The Warrior's Salvation (Warriors of Eriu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  “Any…change in our circumstances?” Jeoffrey gave her a quick side glance and she knew he was speaking of Gregory’s condition. Violence, blood, and death were more than she could ever handle, yet she was not naive enough to believe they would leave Gregory alive.

  Alastar shook his head. “Nay. He did not move all night. His pulse is faint, but tis there. He lives.”

  Clarice gasped and felt her stomach roil again. Gregory lived? Cold fear flooded her. She had desperately wished him dead, as terrible as it was to feel that way.

  “He will not live long, lass,” Alastar said sympathetically, clearly feeling the sudden fear radiating off her.

  “Did you…finish him?” She almost choked on the words. As much as she detested Gregory, she could not stand the thought of an unconscious man being harmed further while defenseless. Just imagining it in her mind was enough to cause her body to start shaking again.

  “Nay, lass. I have too much honor to kill a defenseless man, even if he is a bastard,” he hissed. She breathed a sigh of relief to hear him speak the same sentiments she felt so strongly about. “He is pale, cold, and has lost too much blood. He will not live through the day.”

  She frowned, but nodded, then looked at the three horses standing calmly behind Alastar. Jeoffrey’s gray mare munched on the wet grass while the other two shifted frequently, clearly just as determined as Clarice was to be on the move. But they looked well-rested and ready to travel. Only, the thought of mounting Gregory’s horse made her instantly queasy. She wanted nothing to do with Gregory but did not want to sound ungrateful or like a weak lass, so she pursed her lips together and looked away.

  “Leave his horse here. It will find its way. Clarice will ride with me.” A gush of air escaped her lungs at Jeoffrey’s words. Relief flooded her. He understood without her having to say the words and she was grateful for his protective instincts.

  “Right, let us get home. I crave an ale. And mayhap a lass…or two,” Alastar winked and mounted his horse swiftly.

  Clarice couldn’t help the unladylike chortle that escaped her lips. Some things never changed, and Alastar was as predictable as the sun rising in the east. The man would never settle down, but something about his determination to remain unwed made him endearing to her. He always managed to brighten her mood. Jeoffrey was the brooding half of their friendship and she loved his powerful, controlled mannerisms, but every now and then, a dose of humor was just what she needed and Alastar never failed to provide it.

  ***

  The journey back was a long, arduous one. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and rain began to pelt down on them half way through their traveling and did not relent. Clarice was safely huddled against Jeoffrey the entire time, his cloak encasing her in as much warmth and protection as possible. But by the time they finally arrived home that night, they were all bone weary and water-logged. Jeoffrey prayed Clarice did not catch a chill again. She had been through too much as it was.

  It was nary twilight by the time they arrived and though he knew she was desperate to see their son, as was he, Wee Jeoff was safe and asleep in the care of Morna. Besides, he had another important task to tend to.

  Bringing Clarice’s huddled form into their home, he set straight to building the fire. The chill had overtaken their roundhouse during their absence and he needed to chase it away before Clarice could be comfortable. Once the fire raged and she sat wearily in front of the flames, Jeoffrey helped her out of her soaked through clothes and into dry garments. Her hair hung lank around her face and he scooped it away to get a better look at her. To his relief, the fire had already brought a healthy glow back to her cheeks. Gods, she was beautiful, even after all she had been through. Nothing could dampen her innate beauty or her lively spirit. The proof was in the brilliant smile she flashed him as she rubbed her hands together by the fire.

  “Tis nice to be home,” she said and plopped down on the cushions, bringing her feet closer to the flames. Her tiny toes wiggled and he wanted more than anything to lay down next to her and rub those feet and her entire body until she was clay in his hands, but he had something he had to do first.

  “I will be back shortly. I have…business to tend to.”

  She looked up at him as if he had two heads. “Business? Now? We just arrived home! Why…tis twilight!”

  He laughed at her obvious indignation. “Och, I know but I promise this is necessary and cannot wait another moment. Do you trust me?”

  She cocked her head to the side to look at him curiously, but she smiled and nodded. “Aye, I do trust you. But be quick. I am tired and cannot sleep without you by my side.”

  He did not miss the seductive gleam in her eyes and he felt himself stiffen slightly in his trousers. Clarice had always been an insatiable creature and even after such an exhausting trip, she still craved the pleasures of the flesh, much like himself. “I will not be long, love.”

  He left their house swiftly, finding Alastar still in the stable tending to his mare. “I need you to come with me,” Jeoffrey commanded.

  Alastar scoffed at him. “Not likely, mate. I am exhausted. If I am not mistaken, I just helped you save your lass. I just spent two days of my life atop a horse. I am off to bed, as you should be.”

  Before Alastar got far, Jeoffrey put out a hand to stop him. “Aye. I know. I owe you everything, not just for today but for years of your companionship and aid. But I need one last thing from you.”

  Alastar raised his brows curiously. Jeoffrey was not prone to sharing such emotions with his mate, but he truly did owe so much to Alastar.

  “I need you to stand as a witness. I plan to marry Clarice. Right now.”

  “Right now?” Alastar furled his brow. “Did I not stand in as a witness for your last marriage?”

  Jeoffrey flinched at those words. It had been less than a year since he kidnapped Treasa and forced her to wed with him. He was ashamed of his behavior, even if he had been under the command of his father. To make matters worse, he had threatened to harm the people she loved in order to force her compliance. He suddenly felt no better than that bastard, Gregory. Had he not also taken a lass already promised to another man and forced her to wed him using threats? Perhaps his soul was too black. Perhaps he did not deserve Clarice after all his dark deeds.

  Alastar must have sensed his inner turmoil, for he looked at Jeoffrey and pounded him on the back, once again being more serious than usual. “You did what you were ordered to do, Jeoffrey. You loathed every moment of it. And in the end, you never consummated the marriage and saved her husband’s life so they could be together. Do not torment yourself with the past. Treasa is out there somewhere and she is happy, because of you…because you killed their enemy and made Ériu safe.”

  Though he wanted to believe everything Alastar said, it still cut Jeoffrey to the quick to know he had done what he had. How he wished for a chance to apologize to Treasa, and especially to Eoin, her husband. He now knew, first hand, the terror Eoin must have felt every moment Treasa had been taken from him.

  But this was his new life. He was a better man. He worked hard to tend his farm, train as a warrior, and live an honest life. He was a father now. He wanted…nay, needed to be Clarice’s husband. Now.

  “Let us find the druid,” Jeoffrey said determinedly. It may be late, but laughter and music still drifted through the night air. It seemed much of their tribe was still within the gathering hall enjoying the ale and camaraderie.

  Where there was ale and stories, there was usually a druid.

  Chapter 11

  “Mama! I missed you!” Clarice barely had time to turn before her son ran through the door, flung himself into her arms, and nestled into her lap with his arms around her neck.

  She had believed herself done with tears for the evening, but the sudden feeling of her beloved wee lad wrapped in her arms was enough to draw an unexpected sob from her throat. Only a few hours ago, she had feared she may never see her son again, and now here he was, snuggled
safely against her, the warmth of his body engulfing hers.

  She sniffled and laughed. “Och, my wee Jeoff. I missed you, my sweet child.” She squeezed her arms around his waist and rocked him back and forth gently, as if he were still the wee babe she used to swaddle in blankets and sing to sleep. He would always be her wee babe.

  Four more people walked through the door behind him and her gaze first met with Jeoffrey, who took her breath away with the intensity of his gaze as she rocked their son in her lap. He was always so primal. Every time he looked at her like that, she felt that same shiver run across her entire body. There was something so powerful about knowing they had created a life together, and it suddenly hit her how very badly she wished to create another. And when Jeoffrey looked at her the way he was now, with hunger in his eyes and a proud smirk on his face, she knew he felt the same way.

  Alastar walked in behind Jeoffrey with Morna. “Oh, Morna!” Clarice said with a smile. “I owe you my thanks for watching Wee Jeoff and keeping him safe.”

  “T’was nay bother, Clarice. I am very glad to have helped. And I am honored to stand in as your witness right now.” Morna’s alabaster skin tinged slightly pink and she smiled while nervously fisting her orange woolen skirt in her hands. Her beautiful blonde hair was hastily plaited and tied back with a leather string, small tendrils escaping the sides.

  “Witness? Witness for what?” Clarice’s eyes moved from Morna’s pink-cheeked grin to Alastar’s perpetual smirk and then landed on Jeoffrey’s perfectly chiseled features.

  “Our marriage,” Jeoffrey said with confidence as he stepped closer to her and put a hand out to help her and Wee Jeoff up off the cushions around the hearth. “Tis why I have brought the druid,” Jeoffrey smiled.

  It was only just then that Clarice truly focused on the fourth person who had walked into the house. He was a tall, thin man wearing very dark woolen robes with a rope of leather tied around his waist. His brown cloak and even darker hair had served to keep him hidden in the shadows until he decided to step forward and bow his head to her. “Greetings. I am Fingal,” the tall druid said with a smile.

  Clarice looked from Jeoffrey to Fingal and back again. “Married…right now?”

  Jeoffrey stepped closer to her again, scooped up Wee Jeoff under one of his strong arms and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her to him. “Aye. Right now. I was already supposed to wed with you twice in the last four years. Planning and waiting have not been successful. I will not wait even one more dawn to call you wife.”

  His grip on her waist tightened possessively and she felt her chest tighten with love for him. He truly wanted them to be a family. His lips hovered just above hers as she tilted her head up to search his eyes. The feel of his warm breath on her skin made her shiver. Wee Jeoff was pressed against Jeoffrey’s side, clearly enjoying the good news as he began to clap his hands excitedly. “Mama is getting married!”

  “Jeoff,” Clarice turned her face away from Jeoffrey and focused on her son. It only felt right to tell him the truth of his patronage now, before she was married. It felt like the right time. She quickly looked at Jeoffrey for confirmation that she was doing the right thing and the intensity of his gaze and a slight nod of his head told her he agreed. “Wee Jeoff, I need to tell you something important. Tis about Jeoffrey.” She could hear the quivering in her own voice and was shocked at just how nervous she was to tell her son the truth. She knew he loved Jeoffrey, but he had loved Harrold as well and truly believed the man was his sire.

  “He is my Papa. I know, Mama.”

  “What?” both she and Jeoffrey whispered in shock at the same time, looking at one another, and then again at their son.

  “How?” Clarice asked.

  “Everyone says I look like him. And we have the same name, Mama.”

  “Och, Jeoff,” Clarice groaned and squeezed her son closer. “We truly wanted to be the ones to tell you. I was afraid you would be upset.”

  “Nay. I love my papa.” Wee Jeoff leaned in and wrapped his arms around Jeoffrey’s neck, pulling him close and kissing him on the cheek. “He takes me fishing. And teaches me about chickens. He is a good papa.”

  “I love you very much, son.” When Jeoffrey said those words out loud, it tore at something buried deep inside Clarice’s chest. It was the oddest sensation, like dark secrets being ripped away from her over-burdened conscience and deep wounds healing in her heart simultaneously. For the first time in four years, she could breathe. She could truly breathe, with nothing weighing her down.

  “We wish to be married, Jeoff. Would that please you?” Clarice asked carefully, suddenly realizing she had never truly asked how he felt about everything that had changed in their lives.

  “Aye! I want to be a family,” he shook his wee head and then rubbed his eyes. It was quite late and he had been awoken from his usually deep slumber, no doubt, just to be here for the wedding.

  “Druid Fingal. We wish to wed immediately, and swiftly. Can you do this?” Jeoffrey asked, obviously realizing they had only a few moments before their son was sound asleep again.

  “Och, aye. I can do this swiftly indeed.” Fingal pulled a long piece of soft blue linen from his belt and he instructed them to clasp wrists. As they did, he began to twine the fabric around both wrists, effectively binding them while he began to speak their vows.

  “Jeoffrey and Clarice, this cord is a symbol of the lives you have chosen to lead together. Up until this moment, you have been separate in thought, word, and action. As your hands are bound together by this cord, so too, shall your lives be bound as one. May you forever be one, sharing in all things, in love and loyalty for all time to come.”

  Clarice’s heart was fluttering wildly in her chest as she listened to the druid bind her to Jeoffrey. She had awaited this moment for so many years. It did not matter that her dress was now in tatters or that only two people stood as witness to their private ceremony. She was here right now with their son, becoming Jeoffrey’s wife. Nothing else mattered.

  “Today, we ask that the infinite light of the divine shine upon this union. In that spirit, I offer a blessing to this ceremony.” As the druid continued with his list of blessings upon their marriage, she looked up at Jeoffrey and the hunger on his face made her breath catch in her chest. For so many years she had felt despair keenly for having betrayed him, or more accurately, what he had seen as a betrayal. To be offered a second chance was never a true option she had considered. To stand here now, binding hands and lives with him and seeing that he truly wanted her as much as she wanted him, was more than she could have ever asked for or expected.

  Aye, she would spend every moment of her life showing Jeoffrey how thankful she was for his forgiving spirit, for his undying love for her and their son. He had been justifiably angry and cruel to her in the beginning, but he had opened himself to her and Wee Jeoff.

  Just then, Wee Jeoff whooped loudly, startling her out of her deep thoughts of the past and back into her glorious present. Everyone smiled and clapped around her and she knew the druid must have concluded his ceremony.

  A small twinge of regret flooded her for having missed the majority of the druid’s words while she pondered all that had transpired, but when Jeoffrey smoothly passed their wriggling son into the outstretched arms of Alastar and stepped toward her again with that overpowering look of need and possession in his eyes, she swallowed audibly and ran her tongue along her lips to prepare herself for his kiss.

  That had been futile. There was no preparing for the kiss that Jeoffrey planted upon her lips. His mouth sealed across hers ravenously. She felt his tongue pressing for entrance and she willingly obliged, feeling fire consume her entire body as he consumed her mouth. She could hear the shouts and cheers from the other five occupants of the room, but they sounded distant, almost imaginary, as Jeoffrey showed her with his first kiss as her husband just how badly he wanted her, how strongly he loved her. She gave back with equal fervor, gripping a handful of his thick dark
hair in her fist and gripping the back of his neck with her other hand.

  Jeoffrey sucked her tongue into his mouth almost painfully, then released her mouth with a firm tug of her bottom lip between his teeth. When he finished, he licked his own bottom lip and groaned, as if tasting the remains of the savoriest meal he had ever eaten. She struggled for breath, feeling as if the man had robbed her of whatever bits of her soul he had not yet claimed. Nay. This was not robbery; she had willingly given it and would do it again in every lifetime if she were so blessed to do so.

  Without breaking eye contact with her, Jeoffrey gripped her backside firmly with both hands, pressing her body intimately against his. “Wee Jeoff will stay with Uncle Alastar tonight. I have business to attend to with my wife.”

  She heard chuckling voices and shuffling bodies behind Jeoffrey as they all started filing out of the house. The light of the hearth’s flames caused their retreating shadows to dance across their white-washed walls, but all she could process was the wild beating of her erratic heart and the press of Jeoffrey’s hardness against her pelvic bone.

  Right before the door slammed shut and a large gust of wind caused the flames of the fire to flicker, she heard Wee Jeoffrey’s curious voice ask, “What business could papa have with mama? Tis so late!”

  Jeoffrey chuckled as their son’s voice receded into the night and the footsteps faded away, leaving them alone with only the sounds of the crackling fire to keep them company. Pressing Clarice down to the cushions surrounding the hearth, he laid her on her back and whispered, “Tis never too late in the night to have business with my wife,” and swallowed her laughter with a searing kiss.

  ***

  He lay on the cold earth floor, feeling his life blood draining slowly from his body. Death was calling to him and he would welcome it gladly…if only it would come more swiftly. Time’s passing eluding him, but Gregory was certain he had lain upon this forest floor for at least an eternity. Mayhap he was already dead and this suffering was his punishment from the gods for a life ill-lived. Nay. He knew he was alive, if not for the faint pulse beating obnoxiously against his neck, then by the feel of critters and insects crawling over his body, awaiting his demise.