Warriors in Winter

by Michelle Willingham

  She shivered against the winter air, and the snow had begun to accumulate around them, coating the pine branches in a frosted white. Arturo picked up the basket and nodded for her to accompany him back to Laochre. ‘In return, I ask that you take me to visit the lands nearby. I want to see what I can of this country, before I return to Navarre.’

  It was a reasonable request, one she could grant easily. ‘All right. Until Liam and Adriana marry.’

  Though he inclined his head in agreement, she worried that spending a great deal of time with Arturo was not a wise idea. Even while walking with him, a dormant part of herself stirred, as if awakening from a long slumber.

  Being trained by this man would be a dangerous game indeed.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, the ground was covered in several inches of snow. Brianna stood back within the inner bailey, watching the soldiers spar. Most were fighting with light colc swords, and they wore armour made from leather. All of the men, including Liam, took part in the training. But her attention was drawn to Lord de Manzano. He held a lighter sword made from Damascus steel. The blade was beautiful, and he stood speaking with Connor MacEgan, Rhiannon’s father, who had already begun working with the men. Though Connor had lost the use of one of his hands, it made no difference at all in his fighting. He went from soldier to soldier, speaking to each man and offering adjustments to improve their skill.

  When he spied her, Connor came forward and smiled. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Brianna. Have you seen Rhiannon this morn?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ But from the guarded look on the man’s face, she suspected something was amiss.

  ‘If you see her, tell her I was looking for her.’

  Brianna agreed but didn’t miss the way his eyes searched the fortress. Her cousin’s confession yesterday, about the love charm, made her wonder if something had gone wrong.

  A few moments later, she saw Liam’s bride walking along the far side of the castle. The young woman’s eyes held the evidence of a sleepless night, but she walked toward Brianna and greeted her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked Adriana.

  The woman nodded. ‘I’m still getting accustomed to this place. It was just some troubling dreams.’ Though she tried to smile, Brianna noted a tension in her demeanour.

  ‘My brother said you wanted to learn how to protect yourself. I’ll join you this morn, for I want to improve my own skills.’ Adriana waved a hand to Lord de Manzano, who ended his sparring match and sheathed his sword.

  When he strode toward them, Brianna saw the thin sheen of perspiration on his skin. The tunic he wore was shapeless, but she’d caught a glimpse of muscles within the cloth. There was no doubt the man was a strong fighter, like her uncles.

  Murtagh had been competent, but his skill was in building. He’d ignored his father’s wishes and had spent his days laying stone around the castle and working with the king to improve their physical barriers against enemies. Had he trained with the others, he might have been better prepared to fight during the Lochlannach raid.

  A silent grief enfolded her mood, and she remained solemn when Arturo bade them a good morning.

  ‘We’ll move away from the others,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, you’ll distract the men.’ He led them away, pressing his palm against the small of Brianna’s back. Though it was an innocent gesture, awareness of him slid through her skin. She could smell the faint aroma of soap, as if he’d bathed before dawn. His dark hair was pulled back in a cord, and he walked with an air of confidence.

  ‘You should learn the knife first,’ he suggested, ‘before the spear. If a man tries to attack you, it’s the easiest weapon to seize.’

  He stood before his sister to demonstrate. Adriana smiled at her brother, and when he grasped her arms, she retaliated by slipping her hands to his waist. Within seconds, the blade was pointed at his throat.

  Lord de Manzano released her and beckoned. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

  Brianna took the young woman’s place and he instructed her. ‘I’m going to seize your shoulders. Your task is to unsheathe the knife at my waist.’

  Brianna tried, but her hands were locked at her sides. ‘How? I can’t move my arms.’

  Adriana moved beside her. ‘Men have weaknesses when it comes to women. Put your hands upon his chest, as though you want him to hold you.’

  Brianna obeyed, but when she touched Arturo, she grew aware of his hardened chest and the muscles that were like stones beneath her palms.

  ‘Slide your hands down his torso and look at him as though you are enjoying his touch,’ Adriana instructed.

  Brianna hesitated. She wasn’t at all accustomed to using feminine wiles against a man. When she looked into Arturo’s dark eyes, she didn’t like the attraction that sparked between them. Slowly, she moved her palms down his body and saw the flare of interest in his eyes.

  Her breath caught, and in a suspended moment, she recognised her answering response. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch. And God forgive her, she’d missed it.

  ‘When you reach his waist, hold your hands there for a moment before you strike. In one motion, you’ll have to take his blade and lift it to his throat.’

  Arturo’s hands tightened around her shoulders, and Brianna reached for the blade at his waist.

  ‘You have to know where the knife is,’ Adrianna corrected her. ‘If you search for it, he’ll know your intent.’

  Brianna held steady and drew one hand around Arturo’s back, the other hand seeking the weapon. In his arms, she felt the heat of his skin, the dark seduction of his gaze. He watched her with the eyes of a man who knew how to touch a woman and evoke her passion. As if he had all the time in the world.

  Shaken by the direction of her thoughts, her hand closed upon the hilt and she forced it upward, aiming for his throat. She moved too quickly, and the blade nicked his chin.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, lowering the blade and touching his chin. It was a shallow cut, but she felt terrible for it. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  He caught her fingers, moving them aside. ‘It’s nothing, cariño. Don’t trouble yourself.’ He leaned in to her ear and whispered, ‘Unless you want to kiss it better.’

  She jerked away from him so fast, he might have been on fire. But he only laughed at her while his sister shook her head in exasperation. ‘Pay him no mind, Brianna. Arturo is, and always has been, a terrible flirt.’

  She spoke to him rapidly in Spanish, and from her tone, Brianna suspected she was giving him a warning. His response was a lazy smile. ‘Care to try it again?’

  She did, but this time, she was more careful with the dagger. After several more trials, she was able to retrieve the blade without error.

  * * *

  Liam joined them after an hour, and he took Adriana with him for a walk. When they’d gone, Brianna thanked him, saying, ‘I should go.’

  ‘Why? Because you’re afraid to be alone with me?’

  ‘There are nearly two dozen people around us,’ she countered. ‘We’re not alone.’

  ‘Then keep your part of our bargain. You were going to show me the surrounding land.’

  From the uncertain look on her face, Arturo suspected Brianna would search for any possible means to avoid it. Instead she thought a moment and replied, ‘All right. But first, I’ll get food to take along. We’ll be gone for a few hours.’

  Something about her quick agreement made him wonder about her intentions. She spoke to a young girl with dark brown hair, murmuring instructions. While he arranged for their horses, Brianna departed. For a time, he didn’t know when she would return, but eventually she emerged, carrying a bundle of supplies. An older man and woman followed her. Arturo vaguely remembered seeing them earlier.

  With scarred cheeks and streaks of grey at his temples, the older man eyed him as if considering whether or not to kill him. His hand rested upon a sword at his side, and his eyes were a familiar green.<
br />
  The woman had a warm smile, and she spoke to Brianna softly before turning to him. ‘I am Lady Genevieve. Brianna has asked us to accompany you this afternoon on your ride. Of course, we’d be glad to come.’ Mischief brewed on the woman’s face as she approached to greet him. ‘She told me that you wish to see more of Ireland.’

  ‘That is so.’ Arturo bowed and took the older woman’s hand. Raising it to his mouth in greeting, he added, ‘It would be my honour, Lady.’

  ‘Let go of my wife’s hand, Spaniard,’ came a low growl from the older man.

  Arturo met his gaze squarely, but took no offence. ‘I would wager you are Brianna’s father.’ At the man’s curt nod, he understood that this was Brianna’s means of keeping her bargain without being alone with him. Did she truly feel uneasy in his company? When he’d taught her how to defend herself with a blade, they had stood almost in an embrace. Her hands had trembled as she’d touched him, moving her hands down his chest to seize the dagger. In her eyes, he’d caught a glimpse of surprise...and a softening of her features. She’d looked at him with confusion, as if she didn’t understand the way she felt.

  He didn’t want her to be afraid of him or to distrust his intentions. Though he wouldn’t mind consoling her, he understood the boundaries. She didn’t want another man to intrude upon the memories of her husband, and he respected that.

  Arturo kept his expression neutral, and nodded in greeting toward the warrior.

  ‘Bevan MacEgan is my name,’ the older man said. The look in his eyes added the warning, Don’t even think about touching my daughter.

  Arturo squared his shoulders and stared back at the man as if to say, Your warning is not needed.

  ‘I thought the four of us could ride together,’ Brianna suggested. ‘My father and Lady Genevieve can answer almost any questions you have.’ She walked forward and took the reins of the mare Arturo had brought. ‘If you don’t mind waiting for their horses.’ She took the small bundle of food and secured it to the saddle. Arturo offered to boost her up, and she accepted his assistance.

  ‘You could go on ahead of us and ride along the coast,’ Genevieve suggested. ‘Show him the island, and we’ll meet you there.’ She turned to Arturo and sent him a wink.

  Already he decided he liked Lady Genevieve. Though there was no need to play the role of matchmaker, she was riling her husband’s temper—and well she knew it.

  ‘They can wait,’ Bevan countered, his eyes hard.

  Arturo lifted his shoulders in a shrug before he swung up on his mount. ‘It is for your daughter to decide.’ He deferred to Brianna, never taking his eyes from the older warrior’s face. He sensed that he was being tested, but there was no reason for it. His intentions toward Brianna were nothing more than friendship.

  It was better this way, he supposed. She could show him Ireland, and when he returned home, there would be nothing binding him here.

  Brianna hesitated, eyeing first Lady Genevieve, then her father. ‘It’s only a short distance to the southern coast,’ she said. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in letting you see the island.’

  She nudged her mare forward through the snow, and Arturo followed until they were outside the gate, moving toward the open expanse of land. In the distance, white-covered hills rose up from the landscape, and a well-worn path led up to a higher peak.

  ‘At the end of harvest, during Lughnasa, we walk up the path leading to the top of the hill and bury ears of corn as an offering to the gods,’ Brianna explained.

  ‘You keep to the old ways?’ He drew his horse up alongside hers, curious, for he’d seen evidence of a church within the castle grounds.

  ‘We’ve always celebrated both. My father and his brothers are superstitious. They’d rather keep everyone happy.’ The slight smile playing at her lips suggested that she humoured them in their beliefs. ‘Besides, it gives us an excuse to eat and drink too much.’

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s harm in that,’ he admitted. ‘I heard them speaking of a celebration at the solstice.’

  ‘Meán Geimhridh, it’s called. My uncle Trahern will tell stories, and we’ll decorate the donjon with greenery. It’s a smaller celebration of the solstice before Christmas.’ Brianna tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear, and it drew his eyes to the slender line of her jaw. Her lips were full, the pale pink of morning. He found himself noticing the curve of her chin, the hollowed cheeks and the fresh beauty of her face.

  Green eyes stared at his in a moment of confusion, before she quickened the pace of her horse, riding toward the sea. Almost as if she were trying to run away from him.

  Arturo rode behind her, and when they neared the edge, she dismounted, letting the horse graze upon the tall grasses. The sea was grey, the tide swelling in rough waves against the rocks. Across the narrow channel, he saw an island with a wooden fortress and a smaller circle of huts.

  ‘My great-grandsire dwelled on the island Ennisleigh,’ she said. ‘He was a wood carver and later, he founded the MacEgan tribe, in honour of his brother.’

  ‘Who lives there now?’

  ‘Other members of our tribe. Sometimes the king and queen will go off together and spend a few nights alone.’ She glanced down at the ground, as if realising what she was implying.

  He ignored the remark and replied, ‘It’s a strategic location. I imagine it’s useful if enemy ships approach.’

  She nodded, her face flushed. When she started to return to their horses, he stopped her with a hand. ‘Brianna, you needn’t be afraid of me.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Liar,’ he whispered. Reaching for her cold fingers, he warmed them in his palm. ‘You get nervous every time I look at you.’

  When she said nothing, he drew his thumb over her palm. ‘I admire what I see. You’re a beautiful woman.’ He tilted her chin up to face him. ‘But I also know that you grieve for him.’

  ‘I feel guilty,’ she confessed. ‘And confused.’ She pulled her hand free, letting him glimpse the apprehension in her face. ‘It’s too soon for me.’

  ‘I won’t be here for more than a few weeks,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to return to Navarre and to my father’s lands, where I am guardian.’ His time here would be brief, only long enough to see Adriana settled. ‘But before that, I want to experience this land, which is so different from my own. I would like to see it through your eyes.’

  ‘I am the wrong person to ask,’ she protested.

  ‘You wanted to find a means of using the hours in your day,’ he pointed out. His gaze shifted up, for her parents were approaching. ‘If you want me to hold my distance, I will do so.’

  She let out a slow breath and nodded her assent. Arturo leaned in to murmur against her ear. ‘Or if you want a distraction from your grief, I can grant you that, belleza. No one would begrudge you a winter night spent with me.’

  ‘It would be a betrayal,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I could not do it.’

  ‘The decision is yours. I would never coerce you into anything that would make you uncomfortable.’ He drew back, resting his forehead against hers. ‘But I do know what it’s like, lying awake at night. The loneliness can be unbearable.’

  She could give him no answer at all. But neither did she pull away from him. For a long moment, she leaned against him, the thoughts silent within her. Arturo waited, and then stepped back to regard her.

  He could see the storm of thoughts churning through her. She would think about his offer. But the choice was, and always would be, hers.

  * * *

  Brianna led the small group toward her father’s castle at Rionallís. Though it was an hour’s journey, she felt a sense of comfort riding through the familiar landscape. It was the only way of steadying the trembling within her. Arturo had cast a spell upon her, until she hardly recognised herself. With the faintest touch of his thumb upon her palm, he’d roused an unexpected response within her. The gentle caress had sent blood coursing through her skin, hardening her breasts and reminding
her of the intimacies between a man and a woman.

  He was right. She did miss the closeness of falling asleep naked in a man’s arms, her arms and legs intertwined with his. Against her will, she imagined Arturo’s body upon hers, and it was not unwelcome. His whisper, that he knew of the loneliness, had reached past her shield of guilt.

  No, he would not remain in Éireann for long. But she didn’t know how long she could resist the invitation he’d offered. She did long for a way of silencing the despair that caught up to her at night.

  It was best to refuse the temptation. Her purpose now was to avenge Murtagh’s death, to bring justice to the Lochlannach who had killed him. She had to prepare herself for what lay ahead, and when the men of her tribe faced another raid, she would be ready to seek out her enemy and wield the spear against him.

  When he was dead, it might finally heal the scar within her heart. Then, perhaps, she could look toward a future.

  Her gaze shifted back to the Spaniard. The blood of nobility ran through his veins, but she drew comfort from the fact that her father was still glaring at the man, as if he could read Arturo’s mind.

  He’d disapprove of him even more, if he knew of your thoughts, her mind chided. The invitation, to spend a night in Arturo’s bed, shook her senses apart.

  Brianna broke away from all of them, changing their direction toward the round tower. From beside the church, it rose nearly a hundred feet in the air, like a guardian. It was a unique structure, with a narrow diameter, the size of a small hut. A rope ladder hung ten feet down from the raised door. At the top of the tower were several bells, which could be rung in times of need.

  ‘Have you seen towers like this in Navarre?’ Genevieve was asking Arturo.

  The Spaniard shook his head and smiled at her. ‘Not like this. Our castles are similar to yours, though.’ He drew his horse to a stop and stared at their surroundings, his gaze resting at last upon Brianna.

  ‘In the northeast territory, we have mountains the colour of sand, almost like a desert,’ he told them. As he wove stories about his homeland, he never took his eyes off her. Brianna listened, while her father asked questions about their lands.