He needed to find an oak tree in the forest and cut a plank to fit the chest. Until he’d found it, he could do nothing further. Setting his tools aside, he covered the chest with a piece of leather and moved it back inside the hut.
On the opposite side of the ringfort, he spotted Davin talking to a group of men. He knew they were preparing to approach the western coastline and discern what the Norsemen wanted. If he didn’t speak to Davin now about gaining the wood, his chance would be gone.
He stood on the edge, visible to Davin, but not interrupting the conversation. Though the men saw him, they ignored his presence. Kieran kept his breathing even, though with each minute longer, his frustration grew. He wasn’t accustomed to waiting on others for the things he needed.
Damn it all. He’d not wait any longer. Instead, he strode back to his hut, picking up a small axe he’d sharpened the other day. When he reached the gates of the ringfort, he glared at the guards.
‘Where do you think you’re going, slave?’ one of the men demanded.
‘I’m gathering more wood to repair the chest Davin ordered. And since you haven’t any trees growing here, I’ll have to go into the forest, won’t I?’
‘Not without Davin’s permission. We can’t have you trying to escape.’
The guard glanced at the mound of hostages, likely thinking of the Sullivan prisoners who had escaped weeks ago. Kieran held back his frustration. If he’d intended to leave, he could have done so long before now. He’d chosen to stay here as penance and had completed several weeks of the imposed time. His hands clenched into fists, curling around the handle of the axe.
‘Davin granted him permission,’ a female voice interceded. ‘I will speak for him, as the slave’s future mistress.’
Kieran didn’t turn to look at Iseult, though his senses blazed with awareness. He could smell the flower scents Iseult used for bathing, a light fragrance that surrounded her.
‘He can’t leave the ringfort alone,’ the man insisted.
‘Then I will accompany him.’ Iseult’s tone reminded the guard of her status.
The guard didn’t like it, not at all. Kieran didn’t either, but he needed the wood. The thought of Iseult walking alone with him was akin to torture. Even now, his mind thought of dragging her into the trees and kissing her until he could rid himself of the craving. For that was all she was: temptation.
‘Shall I tell Davin that you are holding me prisoner, as well?’ Iseult challenged the guard. ‘I believe the slave will offer me protection, should I need it.’
Eventually the guard relented. Kieran led the way, Iseult following behind. For nearly a mile, neither spoke. Even so, he sensed her presence and the way she moved. He wanted to touch her, to taste the fragrant skin and give in to his desires. With each step, his tension worsened.
At last, they reached the edge of the forest. Kieran glanced back to be sure she was there, and waited a moment for her to catch up.
Her hair was pulled back from her face in a long braid, two wisps framing her pale cheeks. She looked terrified, as though he were going to attack her.
‘You can wait here if you like,’ he offered. ‘I’ll get the wood I need and then we’ll go back.’
She nodded, her face drawn in as though she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. It was his fault she was so nervous around him. Why had she offered to come along? After the way he’d kissed her, he imagined she would stay as far away from him as possible.
The words of apology came to him, but they would not form. He should be sorry he’d kissed her. And yet, he’d gloried in the taste of her, losing himself in the moment.
‘Kieran?’ Her voice held regret and a question. ‘About what happened between us—’
‘It’s over. No one will ever know about it.’ He met her gaze, letting her see the intensity of his oath. He wanted to unravel her braid, filling his hands with the softness of her hair. His mind envisioned kissing her until she had to cling to him for balance.
Iseult lifted her chin, but he saw her hands trembling. ‘I would never tell Davin.’ She rested her palm against a thin sapling to still the motion. ‘It was a mistake to kiss you. I’m still going to marry him, and I will honour the betrothal.’
‘You should. He’ll take care of you.’ His gut twisted at the thought of Davin making love to her. Jealous thoughts had no reason for being, not any more.
‘I wish—’
‘Don’t.’ He cut her off, not wanting to hear it. ‘By the beginning of summer, I’ll have won my freedom. I’ll leave Lismanagh and you won’t see me again.’
She expelled a breath and inclined her head. ‘That would be for the best.’
With the agreement sealed, Kieran turned his attention back to the wood. A single tree trunk would give him what he needed, or perhaps even a stout branch.
He walked through the forest, studying trees for those with the straightest lines. An oak tree stood near the edge, two hands wide in diameter. It would do well for his needs. He would cut the length needed for the panel and then ask Davin’s men for help in bringing the remainder of the wood back to the ringfort.
‘Stay behind me,’ he advised Iseult. He swung the axe, and the blade bit into the tree bark with a satisfying thunk. He eased into the rhythm of chopping, his muscles welcoming the strain. This was work he hadn’t been allowed to do at home, for it was considered beneath him. Strange that being a slave could be both liberating and confining.
He switched to the opposite side in order to direct the fall of the tree. Wood chips flew, and with a slight push, the oak tree cracked to the ground. Squatting down, he inspected the tree, using the axe to trim off the branches.
‘Is there aught I can do to help?’ Iseult asked.
‘Not unless you’ve another axe.’ Kieran continued to clear off the brush until he had a straight section. With an unhurried pace, he selected a length near the top of the tree and chopped the wood until he had the segment needed.
The fresh scent of cut wood was a familiar friend. He hoisted the log over one arm and gestured for Iseult to join him.
Along the way back, he spied a yew tree. He hacked off one of the smaller branches, for he had another carving in mind. He could bring nothing more without the help of an ox or cart.
When he glanced over at Iseult, she seemed preoccupied. He realised he hadn’t seen her leave the ringfort in the past few weeks. ‘Have you learned anything more about your son?’
She shook her head. ‘I have to visit the slave markets. Perhaps they’ll have a record—’
‘No.’ He set his axe down, appalled that she would even consider it. ‘Don’t go near a place like that. Not even with Davin.’
‘It’s the only place I haven’t looked. If there’s even a chance of finding him…’
She didn’t seem to understand his meaning. ‘Women like you don’t belong there.’
‘Like me?’ Her mouth drew in a line. ‘I’m not afraid of the markets.’
‘You should be. They target beautiful woman like yourself. Sell them across the sea to be concubines.’ He’d seen it happen, time and again. And the men at the slave markets wouldn’t hesitate to defile or hurt her. The thought sickened him.
She paled, finally understanding him. ‘Then what else am I to do?’
He lowered the axe. ‘Ask Davin to go on your behalf. It is his responsibility.’
Her eyes misted with sadness. ‘He doesn’t want to find Aidan.’
‘Why?’ Kieran couldn’t understand it. Clearly, this was important to her. What did it matter that she’d borne another man a child? It was her son.
She shook her head slowly. ‘I know he loves me, and he’ll be a good husband. But he wants to leave the past buried.’
‘What about the child’s father?’ Kieran shifted the log to his other shoulder, adjusting the weight.
‘Murtagh chose a different path. He’s joined a monastery and is happy with his life there.’
Kieran detected a
note of resentment beneath her voice. ‘Does he know about the child?’
‘Yes.’ She turned away, staring off into the distance. ‘And he made his choice to leave us.’
He didn’t know what to say. No words would heal her hurt feelings. A man who would abandon his betrothed and unborn child didn’t deserve a woman like Iseult MacFergus.
For a brief moment he paused and without looking at her, shrugged. ‘You’re better off without him.’
‘I didn’t think so at the time. But it was a couple of years ago.’ She trudged beside him, pushing her way past the branches that blocked their path. A few strands of hair had worked their way free from the braid, and she tucked them behind one ear. The innocent gesture disquieted him, for he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. He wanted to tangle his hands in that hair, feel the softness of her body against his.
She hadn’t pushed him away, like she should have. Though he’d shocked her, she’d responded to him, sweet and wild.
So damned beautiful. And she belonged to Davin.
Frustration gouged at his sense of honour. It had been a grave mistake to come out here alone with her.
When they reached the opposite edge of the forest, Kieran shifted the wood again. Iseult walked alongside him, and she kept her gaze averted.
Her cheeks were flushed from the walk, her full lips tempting. He wanted to drag her against a tree and ravage that mouth until she moaned. For him.
Near the outskirts of the forest, she stopped and faced him. ‘Did you find what you needed?’
No. ‘Yes.’ He needed far more than the oak and yew, but never would he reveal that to her. He had no right to even look upon her face, much less allow his imagination to dream of her.
‘If you need to return, I can escort you again,’ she offered.
He wanted to laugh. Was she truly that innocent? He lowered the oak log to the ground, stretching his shoulders. ‘Don’t come with me again, Iseult. We can’t be friends, and well you know it.’
‘I’ve done—’
‘—Nothing wrong?’ he finished.
Her eyes flashed with an anger he’d never seen. ‘I’ll admit that I shouldn’t have kissed you back. You took me by surprise. But we’ve both agreed that it won’t happen again.’
‘Is that what we agreed?’ He took a step forwards, waiting to see if she’d run from him.
‘Yes.’ She held her ground, facing him with no fear. ‘You wouldn’t dare touch me again.’
He wasn’t going to let that challenge pass. She needed to understand that he wasn’t like Davin. He’d been through the fires of hell, and he didn’t live his life thinking about the future. There was only here and now.
He closed the distance and captured her nape. ‘I’ll dare anything, a mhuirnín.’ The fragile pulse beat beneath his fingertips, her eyes shocked. ‘And you should know better than to come out here alone with a man like me.’ He slid his work-roughened hand across the smoothness of her cheek.
He’d meant to frighten her. But the second he touched her, his intentions fell apart. Dark needs ached, and he craved her body. Beneath him, wrapped around him.
‘Let go of me.’ Her order was firm, despite the shakiness in her tone.
Immediately, he released her. She quickened her pace, almost running to get away from him. Good. She needed to understand that he was not a man to be trusted.
He lifted the log upon his shoulders, welcoming the heavy load. The way he was feeling right now, he wished he had another log to weigh him down.
With his thoughts preoccupied, he barely heard the sound of horses. He glanced up and saw Iseult several paces ahead of him. A group of three riders came from the west, thundering towards her. They wore the Sullivan colours, and weapons were drawn. When Iseult saw them, she froze in place.
He dropped the log and raced towards her. ‘Get back! To the trees!’
But his voice was drowned out by their battle cries. She ran towards the ringfort instead, too frightened to realise that the forest was a better haven.
The mounted riders chased her down, cutting him off. His lungs burned as he ran, the small axe his only weapon.
One of the raiders rode towards him, the horse bearing down. It was one of the hostages, the man he’d believed was a Norseman in disguise. Though Kieran didn’t know how the men had escaped, if he couldn’t save Iseult, both of them would become captives.
He spun away to avoid being trampled. Slashing against their blades, he fought his way towards Iseult. Another man had already dragged her atop his horse. She screamed, struggling against him, and the raider knocked his fist against her cheek until she fell prone.
Fury filled him at the thought of what they’d done to her. Though likely they only wanted Iseult as a hostage, the world became a sea of red. Kieran threw himself at the last rider, knocking the man off his horse with a slice of his axe.
The horse reared, and Kieran grabbed the reins. Blood rage poured through him, along with the pulsing fear that they might harm her.
He mounted and leaned forwards, urging the horse faster. What he wouldn’t give for a sword right now, or a bow. A part of him knew he should go for help, but if he stopped, he feared he’d never find her again. His horse was tiring, but he forced the animal alongside the man who had taken Iseult.
She still had not risen from her position across the saddle, her body motionless. By God, if they’d killed her…
The man raised his sword, and Kieran blocked the blow with his axe. He couldn’t risk unseating the horseman, or he might send Iseult down to the ground beneath crushing hooves. Instead, he ducked another blow and reached for her arm. Fighting one-handed, he unleashed his anger and struck at the enemy, his blade biting into skin.
He felt the slice of a sword against his upper arm, and gritted his teeth. Tightening his grip on Iseult, he shoved the other man back with all his strength. The rider crashed to the ground, and Kieran fought to keep Iseult from falling. He grasped her about the waist and pulled her on to his own horse. A moan escaped when he held her steady.
The third raider retreated, urging his horse faster until he disappeared from view. Of all the men, Kieran wished he’d had the chance to fight that one.
He drew the horse to a stop, holding Iseult’s body to his. Thankfully she was still breathing, though her face was swollen where the raider had struck her. His heartbeat still hadn’t slowed down, and his lungs ached from exertion.
Kieran dismounted, cradling her gently. After a moment, her eyes opened. Gods, he wanted to crush her to him, to ensure that she was not harmed. Instead, he held himself back, laying her down upon the grass.
‘Are you all right?’ he murmured.
Iseult touched a hand to her cheek, wincing. ‘I—I think so.’ Gingerly she sat up. ‘What happened to them?’
‘One is dead. The other fell off his horse—I’m not sure how badly injured. The third got away.’
‘Thank you for saving me,’ she whispered. Her voice was like glass, almost about to shatter. Though she didn’t weep, her hand reached up to his shoulder. He didn’t breathe, not wanting to move away from her.
‘Would you hold me?’ she asked. ‘I just need a moment.’
He closed his eyes, lowering his shoulders. She didn’t know what she was asking of him. ‘No. I’m sorry.’
The stricken expression on her face made him feel like a dog. He rose to his feet, walking back to where he’d dropped the wood. The axe handle was heavy in his hand, and he loathed himself for denying her comfort. But the truth was, if he held her in his arms again, he wouldn’t stop there.
CHAPTER TEN
Iseult’s nerves hung by a thread. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking. Her cheek throbbed from where the raider had struck her, and Kieran walked so far ahead, it was as though he wanted to be rid of her. Her eyes welled up with unshed tears.
She shouldn’t care that he’d refused to hold her. She should be grateful that he’d kept sight of his honour. And hers. But when
she’d awoken, his expression was like a man she’d never seen. He’d been worried about her, and it had felt so good to rest in his arms. She had wanted to sink her face into his shoulder, to weep and feel his strength. Instead, he’d pushed her away.
Her mind twisted with confusion. She had never been so frightened in all her life. Though Kieran had defended her from the enemy tribesmen, she’d never been a victim before. If he hadn’t been there, she truly would have been taken. The Blessed Virgin only knew what might have happened to her.
Davin’s numerous warnings about never venturing forth alone suddenly crystallised. She didn’t know what had come over her, following Kieran into the forest alone.
But when she’d seen him standing there at the gates, she’d spoken without thinking. Her mind and impulse had separated, for there had been no apparent reason. Only the deep sense that she needed to help him, no matter that it was wrong.
Had she wanted to be alone with him? Had she agreed to accompany him, with thoughts that it might lead to something else? She didn’t know herself any more. Ever since the kiss between them, she’d felt her sensibilities coming apart. Kieran tempted her in ways she’d never known. And, God help her, she was afraid of the way he made her feel.
She couldn’t let herself falter. Honour bound her to another man. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind. It didn’t matter what her reckless heart wanted.
Kieran waited for her outside the gates of the ringfort. He balanced the heavy oak log upon one shoulder, the yew branch in the other hand. She didn’t know why he needed it, but he treated the precious wood as though it were a prized possession.
Swallowing hard, she crossed through the gates. And ran straight into Davin.
‘Where in the name of Lug have you been?’ he demanded. Then he stared at the bruising on her cheek, and his face transformed into rage. When Kieran entered the ringfort, Davin smashed his fist into the side of Kieran’s jaw. The wood clattered to the ground. Kieran straightened, his eyes cold.
‘No!’ Iseult protested, trying to put herself between them. This was her fault, not his.
The MacEgan Brothers Series Volume 1 Page 11