Surrender to an Irish Warrior (15 page)

Her first reaction had been to push him away. But just thinking of him, remembering the feelings of arousal, made her wonder if she'd been too quick to deny him. Trahern wouldn't have hurt her; she knew that.

What would have happened, if she'd allowed him to continue? She closed her eyes, trying to imagine his broad hands sliding over her skin. Awakening her.

When she was growing up, she'd overheard her friends gossiping about being with a man. They'd flushed and giggled, laughing about how it was to take a lover. There had been no pain in their experiences, no feelings of being abused. She felt cheated, for her only carnal knowledge was of being punished and discarded.

She tucked her head beneath Trahern's chin, curling up into his body. In the midst of his sleep, a heavy arm came down around her. He encircled her in an embrace that warmed her, holding her close.

And a secret smile curved over her mouth as she succumbed to sleeping beside him.

J
ust before dawn, Morren had moved back to her side of the tent, saying nothing to Trahern about sleeping beside him. They'd continued their travels, but that morning, he'd seemed edgier than usual. Once or twice, she'd caught him looking at her, but she couldn't guess at his veiled thoughts.

It was mid-morning before they reached Laochre, the home of Trahern's brother, King Patrick. Once they reached the land boundaries, Morren noticed an immediate transformation in Trahern. He quickened the pace of his mount, as if eager to see his family. She followed beside him, craning her neck to look at the stone castle.

It reminded her of the Norman castles she'd seen in the north and those from England. Powerful and imposing, the structure would keep away any coastal invaders.

When they reached the interior, a woman came forward to greet them. Her veiled hair was covered with a silver circlet and a matching torque at her throat. With a warm smile and brown eyes that revealed happiness at Trahern's arrival, the woman embraced him. ‘Trahern, I'm so happy you're home.' She drew back to look at him, examining him with critical
eyes. ‘You're looking better than the last time I saw you.' When she risked a glance at Morren, the woman's expression turned curious.

Trahern ignored the unspoken question, saying, ‘My Queen, you look as beautiful as ever.'

Her mouth twisted in an amused smile. ‘Why are you still calling me Queen, Trahern, when you know full well that I prefer Isabel?'

‘
Queen
Isabel,' he said, emphasising her title, ‘this is Morren Ó Reilly.' He introduced the remaining men, but Morren didn't miss the note of distrust when he offered Gunnar's name.

The Queen's gaze narrowed at the sight of the Viking, but a moment later she seemed to dismiss her suspicions. She offered Morren a smile of welcome, but it was guarded. The Queen would ask questions, Morren knew, and she didn't know if she was prepared to answer them. She hadn't really thought of explanations or what she would say to Trahern's kin about why she had come.

‘I'll send servants to prepare your chamber, Trahern,' the Queen offered. ‘Morren, you may stay with my ladies.' She let her gaze linger a moment before she enquired, ‘How long will you stay, Trahern?'

‘Until I've finished what I came to do.'

The Queen issued orders to a servant, and then took his arm, walking alongside him. Morren followed behind at first, but then Trahern extended his other hand. She took it, her heart warming at his effort to include her.

‘Patrick is with Ewan now,' the Queen explained. ‘They're working on Ewan's ringfort. I imagine he'll want to build a castle as grand as Laochre.' With a smile to Morren, the Queen said, ‘Ewan married his Norman bride only a few weeks ago. They're planning to live a few miles inland from here.'

She brought them inside the castle, leading them up the
stairs to the hall. The interior walls were thick, perhaps the length of her arms. Morren lifted the hem of her skirts, but Trahern still didn't let go of her hand.

‘You're in time to join us for the noon meal,' Queen Isabel offered. ‘Morren, if you'd like to change your gown or bathe beforehand, you are welcome.'

Morren's smile grew strained, for although Katla had given her an extra gown, the Viking woman was taller. The hemline needed to be adjusted, but she hadn't had time. In the meanwhile, she had no other gown but the one she wore. It embarrassed her, thinking of how she must appear to the Queen.

Trahern caught another servant and spoke to him beneath his breath. Morren couldn't make out what he'd said, but the servant raced away to do his bidding.

The Queen led them inside the Great Chamber, and Morren saw two men seated with their wives and several children running around, chasing the dogs. There was an air of contentment, and the blond man scooped a toddling child out of harm's way, just as one of the dogs skidded to a halt.

A pang caught Morren's heart at the sight of another woman seated near the fire, nursing a newborn infant. The woman's hair was veiled, and a dark-haired man eyed her with a protective air.

Two of the men came forward, and from their resemblance to each other, Morren guessed they were brothers. ‘These are my brothers Bevan,' Trahern introduced her to the dark-haired man, ‘and Connor.' He pointed to the blond man.

‘My God, he has hair again,' Connor teased, as he pounded Trahern on the back. ‘As old as you're getting, I wasn't sure it would grow back.'

‘You're only a year younger than me,' Trahern pointed out. ‘And as for my hair, the nights were growing colder. It was time to grow it out again.'

But Morren wasn't so certain that was the true reason. Her
hand bumped against his and she whispered, ‘I like it better this way.'

Bevan gave a nod of agreement. ‘You're looking more like your old self. I'm glad of it.'

Trahern's expression grew uncomfortable, and he turned his attention back to introductions, leading Morren forward to the veiled woman who held the infant. ‘This is Bevan's wife, Genevieve.'

Another woman approached to welcome her, and Trahern introduced her as Connor's wife, Aileen. ‘She's the most skilled healer I've ever known.'

After greeting Aileen, Morren turned back to Genevieve. The woman smiled, but there was exhaustion in her features, as though she'd been up all night. ‘I would stand to welcome you, but I'm afraid my daughter, Alanna, would protest.'

‘It's all right.' Morren managed a smile, but inwardly, her thoughts went back to her own lost pregnancy. The hollow ache hadn't faded, despite the weeks gone by. She marvelled at the tiny fingers of the babe, the head so delicate that she could hold it in the palm of her hand.

Genevieve patted a seat beside her. ‘Come and join me, if you'd like to warm yourself by the fire.'

Morren sat with the woman, and moments later, one of the children came to inspect her. The young boy strode over with a confident air. ‘I'm Liam MacEgan. Who are you, and are you going to wed my uncle Trahern?'

Morren blinked at the direct question. She gave her name and said, ‘No, I'm not going to marry your uncle.'

‘Then why are you here?' Liam planted his hands on his hips.

Beside her, Genevieve's mouth tightened to avoid a smile. ‘Liam, it's not polite to ask so many questions of someone you've just met. Tell her you're sorry.'

‘I'm sorry,' he repeated. But in his eyes, she saw that he wasn't sorry at all, only curious.

Morren folded her hands in her lap, not bothering to hide her own smile. She'd always liked children, and Liam had a smile that was every bit as captivating as Trahern's. She realised he'd been named for the eldest MacEgan brother, who had died years ago.

Abruptly, the boy reached for her hand and dropped a kiss on the back of her wrist.

‘Liam…' Genevieve warned. ‘What did you do that for?'

‘My Uncle Ewan said that when you want something from a lady, you're supposed to kiss her.'

‘Oh, did he?' Genevieve rolled her eyes. ‘Ewan would say that, wouldn't he?'

‘Does it work?' Trahern interrupted, a gleam in his eyes.

Liam frowned, staring at Morren's hand. ‘Not yet. But I would like a honey cake or a sweet. If you have one.' He sent Morren a broad smile, and she couldn't help but answer it.

‘I'm sorry, but I don't have any food with me.'

Trahern nodded to Liam. ‘You'd best go to the kitchens, lad. Practise your kissing on one of the maids, and perhaps you'll get your honey cake.'

The young boy took the hint. Isabel leaned down and kissed his forehead, before the lad scampered away. ‘Liam is my eldest son,' the Queen explained. ‘He's being fostered with Bevan and Genevieve and is here to visit for the Samhain festivities.'

‘You still celebrate the old ways?' Morren knew that many clans held on to the ancient traditions, though most of the churches frowned upon it.

‘I see no harm in celebrating with family and friends. Any excuse for food, drinking and storytelling is welcome here.' Isabel's gaze turned to Trahern in an unspoken hint.

‘There is no greater bard than Trahern,' Morren said. ‘I've always loved his stories.'

Trahern appeared pleased at the compliment, and his eyes
softened upon her. Morren's gaze travelled to his mouth, remembering the feel of his lips.

Connor elbowed his brother, his grin light-hearted. ‘Liam's right, you know. Kissing a woman is quite good for getting what you want.' With a knowing smile, he leaned down and kissed his wife, Aileen. ‘If you know how to kiss. But you may be out of practice, Trahern.'

Morren's face turned crimson, and Connor didn't miss her blush. ‘Or perhaps not.'

‘Stop your teasing, Connor.' The Queen swatted at him and offered, ‘Morren, if you'd like to escape their company, I'll take you above stairs now.'

She followed the Queen and a maid up the winding stairs and down a narrow corridor. The maid opened the door to the solar, and Isabel gestured for Morren to enter.

‘Genevieve will join us, once she's finished feeding Alanna,' Isabel said. She ordered the maid to bring a basin of warm water and a clean
léine
and overdress. ‘She'll want to hear about everything.'

‘Everything?'

A secretive smile crossed the Queen's face. ‘Trahern has never brought a woman to Laochre before. You must mean a great deal to him.'

Morren shook her head. ‘No. We're friends, nothing more.'

‘He never took his eyes from you. Not even once,' Isabel pointed out. ‘It may be that you're friends now, but perhaps later—'

‘No.' Morren cut her off. ‘That's all there is between us.' She decided to give the Queen a shortened version of her story. ‘Our
cashel
was attacked, and Trahern's betrothed wife, Ciara, was killed. I survived the attack, and I've promised to help identify the raiders. We think they were among the
Lochlannach
who dwell at Gall Tír, not far from here.'

Isabel frowned. ‘That can't be true. The Hardrata tribe
members are our allies. Patrick's Great-Uncle Tharand lived there, long ago. Their men have no reason to attack a settlement so far from here. Are you certain it's them?'

Morren nodded. ‘Trahern can tell you more.'

Isabel seemed to sense her reluctance, and she offered, ‘My maid will help you dress for the meal. You are welcome here at Laochre, and if you've the need for anything, simply ask.'

‘Thank you,' she murmured. After the Queen had left, the maid helped her into the borrowed green
léine
and overdress. Thankfully, the gown fit her better than the one Katla had given.

Morren sat down while the maid helped comb the tangles from her hair. The relaxing motion made her close her eyes for a moment. Trahern's family had a boisterous air that made her feel welcomed.

The door opened a few minutes later, and she saw the dark-haired healer, Aileen, standing there, with Trahern behind. Morren couldn't understand what they wanted, but when she saw the devastated expression on Aileen's face, she knew.

Trahern had told the healer.

Morren looked away, her face crimson with shame. She didn't want anyone scrutinising her, nor had she wanted anyone else to know.

Aileen dismissed the maid, and Morren sent a hard look towards Trahern. Why had he told a stranger of her dishonour? There was no need for it. She'd healed well enough.

‘I asked Aileen to come and look at you,' Trahern said. ‘I thought that after the birth—'

Anger rose up from inside her, betrayal that he'd told an other woman of her shame. ‘No. I'm fine.'

‘Trahern said that you lost your babe, a few weeks ago,' Aileen said gently. ‘He wanted to ensure that you've fully healed.'

‘I have,' she snapped. ‘And I need no one to examine me.'

She knew she sounded ungrateful and harsh, but she couldn't understand why he'd revealed her secret.

‘Trahern, leave us,' Aileen ordered. Though her voice was calm, there was a firm tone to it. He looked as though he didn't want to, but in the end, he obeyed.

Aileen closed the door behind him. After long moments passed, she admitted, ‘He's afraid.'

‘Afraid of what?'

‘He tended you that night, and he's afraid he did something wrong. He wanted to be sure that you were all right.'

‘I am.' Morren gripped her arms, rubbing them for warmth.

‘I know what it's like, to lose a child,' Aileen said. Upon her face were the lines of sorrow, the unspoken pain. ‘I went through six years of being childless. And I've miscarried several times.' She pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘I won't ask you questions you don't want to answer. But know that you've a friend to speak with, if you have the need.'

Morren's chest ached, and she clenched her teeth together. No, she didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to forget all about the pain and devastation of that night.

But she answered, ‘That's kind of you.' She met Aileen's gaze, adding, ‘The bleeding stopped several days ago. I'll be all right.'

‘If you start to feel feverish, or if you have any more cramping, please tell me. I'll do what I can.' Changing the subject, Aileen said, ‘Would you like to help with the preparations for Samhain? I'm certain Isabel would be glad of an extra set of hands.'

Morren nodded, grateful for a means of occupying herself.

‘We're helping the children to make masks this afternoon,' Aileen said. ‘They usually wear them on Samhain Eve, but
the adults also wear their own masks. After the children have gone to sleep, we have our own celebration. The masks can make the evening more adventurous.'

Aileen began to lead the way down the stairs. Halfway, she stopped and regarded her. ‘He cares about you, Trahern does. If you're wanting more than friendship, you've only to reach out to him.'