Warriors in Winter

by Michelle Willingham

  Adriana felt herself breaking apart, pressing against his mouth as a wave of shattering ecstasy roared through her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t grasp anything save the rush of pleasure.

  She gripped his neck, trembling as she pulled him close. ‘I never knew. Mi corazon, I never knew anything like this.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said, catching her mouth in a swift kiss. Through her haze of satisfaction, she realised that he had not experienced the same pleasure as she. Her body was wet, craving more from him, but she wasn’t quite ready to accept him inside her. She rested her hands upon his stomach, pressing him back onto the bed. ‘Don’t touch me yet. Let me tend to you.’

  The intense fulfilment gave her the courage to touch him in the same way. She drew her mouth over his hardened muscles, kissing his skin as she drifted lower. She curled her hand over his length, exploring the smooth skin while his face transformed with need. His tight stomach was ridged against her cheek as she tasted the salt of his skin, moving her hand up and down. When she found herself close to his shaft, she hesitated, remembering what he had done to her. It had been a shocking rush, a pleasure like nothing she’d ever known. Would it be the same for him?

  Softly, she took the head of him into her mouth, and Liam growled, his hands gripping her hair.

  ‘Adriana, I— Jesu,’ he nearly shouted. Encouraged by his wild response, she took him deeper into her mouth, caressing his length with her tongue and finding her own rhythm. But when she began to suck, he used his strength to pull her back, pinning her to the bed.

  ‘Were you trying to torture me?’ he demanded, his voice resonant with need.

  Liam got up from the bed and drew her hips to the edge, raising her knees. ‘It’s going to happen again, Adriana. I’m going to join with you and do everything in my power to satisfy you.’

  This time, she felt the thick head of him pressing against her. Slowly, he entered, welcomed by her wetness. There was no pain, no sense of being taken against her will. Only the need to welcome him, to make their bodies one.

  ‘Come to me,’ she said, her hands sliding into his hair as he gently penetrated and withdrew.

  ‘Te amo,’ she murmured, lifting her hips to meet his thrust. He lowered himself upon her, his heart resting against hers as he continued the gentle invasion.

  ‘I love you, too,’ he answered. At his words, she felt the tears returning, but they were tears of thankfulness, not pain. She wept as he came into her arms, whispering words of love, filling her with himself.

  And when she gripped his hips, encouraging him faster, she let him take her as he wanted to. Over and over he plunged, his words falling into Irish endearments that captured her heart. She needed this man, and when he finished inside her, she held him tightly. Knowing she could never let him go.

  * * *

  When they returned to the Great Chamber, the room had been transformed, lit by soft candles. Swags of holly and other greenery were hung throughout the room, while the lilting sound of a harp filled the air with music.

  Liam walked through the room with Adriana at his side. Her face held the flush of their recent lovemaking, and he brought her among his family, unable to let her leave his side. She sent him a secret smile, and it spread through him, warming his heart. Though the past still left a bitter taste in his mouth knowing the pain she’d experienced for his sake, he didn’t want anything to come between them again.

  ‘You look well, Liam,’ came the voice of Honora. The woman sent him a knowing look, and winked at Adriana.

  As they crossed through the crowd of people, his kinsmen smiled and offered greetings to Adriana and himself. She complimented them on the food and it was clear that she’d earned a place among them.

  His father was still absent, so it fell to Liam to offer greetings to the people, beginning the celebration. And he found that he didn’t mind it at all.

  He climbed the stairs of the dais, raising his hands until the crowd fell silent. He spoke first in Irish, then in the Norman language so that Adriana could understand his words. On behalf of the king and queen, he offered them greetings and invited them to join in the feast.

  As his gaze fell upon the familiar faces of family and friends, it felt right to have her beside him. Adriana was all that mattered. He embraced her in front of everyone, breathing in her familiar scent, wanting her to understand that he had not turned his back on her.

  ‘You said once, you’d have done anything to save my life.’ He stared into her eyes. ‘As I would do for you.’

  She traced his cheek, her hands trembling with emotion, and though the pain of the past was still there, her love for him shone through.

  ‘You are my life, Adriana.’ Despite the past troubles and all they had suffered, he loved her. They would work to overcome what had transpired before, until the horrors of the Crusade were a faded memory. ‘God willing, we’ll have many years together.’

  She tightened her embrace, kissing him. ‘May it be so.’

  The MacEgans cheered and raised their knees in a gesture of respect. Liam gave the order for the mead to be poured and saw that his father had returned. Though King Patrick appeared weary, he climbed the dais and accepted his own cup of mead. Raising it high, he proclaimed, ‘Blessings upon our people. And especially upon our future king and queen.’

  Liam raised his own cup toward his bride, no longer feeling as if the kingship were a burden. Not with Adriana at his side. ‘To the future.’

  Epilogue

  Winter passed and Adriana welcomed the coming of spring. Her wedding to Liam had come within a sennight of her brother’s marriage, and her parents had arrived at last to offer their blessings. Although there would be many years before Liam would assume his father’s place as king, Patrick had already begun to share duties with his son.

  Until that time, Adriana had insisted that they live in a dwelling of their own, away from the rest of the castle. Liam had built her a small stone thatched hut, one where they could shut out the rest of the world and be together. They had spent many long winter nights in each other’s arms, and there was no greater joy than to be with her new husband.

  The snows had melted, and though Queen Isabel had wearied of remaining in her bed, the child within her continued to grow. This morn, Adriana was out walking with friends while a young girl was stomping within puddles.

  With a heavy sigh, Rhiannon sent them an apologetic look. ‘No matter how often I ask Emla to stop, she loves to get muddy and wet.’

  Brianna smiled. ‘She knows her father won’t scold her.’

  ‘Because Kaall can’t see how much dirt is all over her,’ she moaned, picking up the child and holding her tight. Emla planted a kiss upon Rhiannon’s cheek, snuggling close.

  An ache caught inside Adriana, with the hopes that she would one day bear a child of her own. From the softness on Brianna’s face and the contentment there, she suspected her brother would be a father soon enough.

  A few moments later, Brianna’s sister came running toward them, out of breath. ‘Come quickly,’ Alanna ordered. ‘The queen needs you.’

  ‘Is her babe about to be born?’

  ‘I’ll go and fetch the healer while you sit with her,’ the young girl finished. Without letting them voice another question, she hurried off.

  Though it should have been welcome news, none of the women looked happy about it. All throughout the pregnancy, Isabel had continued to suffer, and she was not alone in her fear.

  Adriana exchanged looks with the others.

  Rhiannon was the first to speak. ‘I’ll go to her. Adriana, have Liam take Patrick away from the castle. He shouldn’t be there while she’s in pain.’

  ‘If he knows her labour has started, there’s nothing that will take him from her side.’ But she understood what the young woman meant. Patrick’s fears would only multiply if he were there.

  ‘Just try,’ Rhiannon said. She handed her foster daughter over to Brianna, adding, ‘Take her back to Kaall, will you?’ />
  * * *

  Just as Alanna had predicted, Queen Isabel was struggling against the pain. ‘It wasn’t like this the last time,’ she claimed, closing her eyes as another labour pain struck her. ‘These are...faster.’

  ‘It’s your second child,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Your body will remember what to do.’

  Perspiration beaded across her forehead as the queen fought to keep from crying out. The women kept vigil over the next few hours, and Adriana was grateful that Liam had removed his father from Laochre, telling him nothing about the queen’s impending childbirth.

  * * *

  But by nightfall, everyone knew. Isabel struggled against the never-ending pains, and had nearly broken Adriana’s hand from squeezing it so tightly. She’d been pushing for hours, but the babe refused to come.

  Patrick had returned and was pacing the floors, his face grey with worry.

  ‘Isabel,’ the healer said, leaning in. ‘The babe isn’t turned correctly.’

  ‘You’re not cutting her to take the child,’ the king insisted. ‘I won’t allow it.’

  ‘Let Aileen try to turn the baby,’ Isabel whispered. She reached out for her husband’s hand, weeping openly. ‘There’s hope, Patrick. I haven’t given up yet.’

  Adriana saw the fear on their faces, and she considered retreating when the queen cried out in more pain. The king was speaking to her, words of encouragement and love. And she voiced her own prayers, that the babe—and Isabel—might live.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, there came the cry of a newborn. Adriana’s eyes were not the only ones weeping. She left the chamber and returned to the others who were waiting below. Within moments, Liam caught her in his arms. ‘Is my mother all right?’

  Adriana nodded, holding him close. ‘I fear you’ll still be the king one day. For you now have a sister.’

  ‘Praise be,’ he murmured, dropping a kiss upon her hair.

  Her brother Arturo’s face was pale, as if remembering the loss of his first wife. ‘I am glad she is well. And I pray never to watch over such a birth again.’

  He raised Brianna’s hand to his lips, but she sent him a curious look. ‘We’ll know in the autumn, won’t we?’

  His look of surprise was replaced by his own joy as he kissed his new wife. ‘Truly?’

  She nodded, and Adriana congratulated them both. Liam put his arm around her and they walked outside where the stars glowed in the midnight sky above them.

  ‘It was a blessing my parents never expected,’ he said, his hand resting upon the small of her back. ‘I didn’t think I would ever have a sister.’

  ‘Did you wish for a brother who would take the throne instead?’

  He walked with her across the grounds, the torches casting shadows on the ground. ‘No. If the people desire that I should be the next king, I will. Unless you object?’

  ‘I would never stand in the way of your happiness. Whether you want to be a king or a shepherd.’

  ‘It wouldn’t matter, a ghrá. For all of my happiness lies with you.’

  She drew him into her arms, holding him tightly. Inside, she sent up her own prayer of thanksgiving that there were no longer any nightmares of the past to awaken her. In Liam, she’d found forgiveness, and a love that had healed her invisible scars.

  Just before they returned home, a star streaked across the sky in a silvery path. ‘It’s like a glimpse of heaven,’ Liam said, stopping to marvel at it.

  She cupped his face between her hands, letting him see her love. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  And with a smile, she led him inside to where their own heaven awaited them.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Whirlwind Cowboy by Debra Cowan!

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  Chapter One

  West Texas

  June 1886

  Where was she? The ground was hard beneath her back. Her head pounded as she stared up at a gray sky and the sun hidden behind red-tinted clouds. Carefully pushing herself up on her elbows, she winced as sharp pain speared through her skull. Her shoulder ached, too. She was behind a two-story white brick building she didn’t recognize.

  She touched her temple, and her fingers came away bloody. She inhaled sharply. Blood also streaked her pale blue floral bodice. What had happened?

  A creaking sound had her looking over her shoulder. A saddled black horse watched her with dark eyes. Then she saw a wet stain a couple of feet away.

  She eased over and touched it, startled to realize it was more blood.

  Cold, savage fear ripped through her and she got unsteadily to her feet, fighting back panic. Whatever had happened here had been deadly. She couldn’t remember it, but she knew it.

  Her head throbbed as she looked around wildly, trying to identify something, anything. Not the building hiding her or the store across a dusty street or the railroad tracks beyond. Nothing was familiar.

  Alarmed and confused, she felt tears sting her eyes.

  From the front of the building she heard the heavy thud of boots. A man muttered in a low, vicious voice. The hairs on her arms stood up and fear rushed through her.

  There was no thought, only instinct. She gathered her skirts and hurriedly mounted the waiting horse, riding astride. Her skull felt as though it was being cracked open and she thought she might pass out from the pain.

  Urging the animal into motion, she rode hard away from the unfamiliar buildings and headed for the open prairie. Someone yelled after her. She wasn’t sure what he said, but she didn’t stop.

  Gripping the pommel with sweat-slick hands, she kept the horse at a full-out run until she was assured no one was behind her.

  Then she slowed the horse to an easy pace. As far as she could see there was an endless sea of golden-brown prairie grass, dotted here and there with a few evergreen trees. The landscape looked familiar, but she didn’t know why. She didn’t know anything.

  A forceful gust of wind had her grabbing the pommel. Bits of dirt and grass pelted her face as well as her mount’s. The animal slowed, but kept moving.

  Dust whirled across the prairie. The horse’s hooves pounded in a steady lope. On and on. Daylight turned to gray. They crossed a dry creek bed, then topped a small rise. Through the swirling light and dirt, she spied a small cabin and a barn. As she rode up to the front of the house, she called out, but no one answered. There was no sign of anyone at all.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at a boiling mass of clouds sweeping across the ground. The first stirrings of a dust storm. Being caught out in it could be deadly.

  Fighting back panic, she decided to take shelter in the small cabin. She wasted no time settling the horse in the barn. After filling the trough with water from the pump just outside, she closed the animal inside and ran to the cabin, praying she would be able to get in. When she tried the door, it opened and she slipped inside with a big sigh of relief.

  Shaking out her skirts then brushing off her hair and bodice, she took stock. A Franklin stove sat in the corner to her left, along with a sink and a pump and a short work cabinet. There was a small but sturdy-looking table, and straight ahead an open door revealed the foot of a bed.

  The windows, real pane glass, shook as the wind gathered force. Her shoulders and neck throbbed, but she searched for candles or a lamp in case she needed light later.

  Though small, th
e cabin was solid and would offer protection from the storm. Looking down, she stared at the bloodstains on her bodice. Her mind was empty. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

  A shiver rippled up her spine. Not only was she completely alone and lost—she had no idea who she was.

  * * *

  After a week of tracking Cosgrove, Bram had lost him and returned home. Whirlwind’s sheriff, Davis Lee Holt, had wired every lawman in the state and promised to send word to Bram if he received any news.

  Bram had duties at the ranch, but he still checked with Davis Lee every day about Cosgrove. Two weeks after the trail had gone cold, Bram got news. Surprisingly it was from his uncle, not the sheriff. Uncle Ike had witnessed Cosgrove robbing a bank in Monaco.

  Bram had ridden straight to the small town located northwest of Whirlwind, where he discovered Cosgrove had murdered a man during that robbery.

  Bram had picked up the outlaw’s trail again, this time headed east toward Whirlwind. Cosgrove would be a fool to go back there and probably hadn’t, but the approaching dust storm had erased any sign that he might have changed direction.

  The past three weeks had been hell, and Bram laid that on Deborah as much as the outlaw he chased. He hadn’t spoken to her mother or sisters again, though Bram’s brother, Jake, had. He had felt it his duty to let Bram know Deborah still hadn’t returned home.

  Bram tried to tell himself he didn’t care. She’d made her choice and it wasn’t him.

  The spiraling wind swirled across the prairie, flaying his face and body with sharp bits of dirt and grit. The gunshot graze on his cheek was healing. Dragging his dark bandanna up to cover his nose and mouth, he knotted it tightly.

  He was worn slick, dirty and madder than hell that this dust storm would force him to briefly suspend his search for Cosgrove, but he would find the low-down dog again. He wouldn’t stop until he did. In addition to being a rustler, Cosgrove was now a murderer. Bram wouldn’t be the only one out for the bastard’s blood. If possible, he hated the cattle thief even more than he had three weeks ago.