Surrender to an Irish Warrior (16 page)

Morren said nothing, for she didn't know what to think any more. She was still upset with him for telling Aileen about her lost child.

He wanted to be sure you were all right
, Aileen had said. Had he told Aileen about that night? Did the healer know more than she should?

Though he'd intended to ensure that she was all right, it felt like a betrayal. Her stomach hurt when she walked downstairs with Aileen.

Inside the Great Chamber, long tables were heaped with food. Freshly baked fish, meat pies and boiled goose eggs were offered for all to share. Aileen brought her to sit with the family, and Morren saw that Trahern had also changed his clothing. Unbidden, she found herself staring at him.

He truly was a handsome man, with sharp features. There was a great deal of his grandfather's blood within him, for now that she could see him among his brothers, she realised that he didn't resemble them much at all. Only their eyes were similar in colour.

When Trahern caught sight of her, he crossed the room to take her palm in his. He led her to sit beside him, murmuring, ‘You look beautiful,
a chara
.'

His compliment was unexpected. Beautiful wasn't the word she'd use to describe herself. She murmured her thanks, but didn't meet his eyes.

He leaned in, his breath upon her ear. ‘I told Aileen nothing, except that you lost your babe. That's all.'

He'd sensed what was troubling her. She couldn't stop the
relief, knowing that her terrible secret was safe. She rested her cheek against his. ‘I wish you hadn't said anything.' Her loss was still too raw, and she didn't want to think of it.

‘I want you to be all right,' he said, his hand reaching around to touch her neck. ‘I couldn't do much for you that night. And when you refused to see the
Lochlannach
healer, I thought you might agree to let Aileen help you.'

‘I'd rather not,' she said, pulling back. Forcing herself to look into his eyes, she added, ‘I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I thought you had told Aileen…everything.'

‘I wouldn't do that to you.'

She squeezed his hand in silent forgiveness, and he walked her toward his family, who were seated at a long table upon a dais. They were prevented from further conversation when they sat among the other MacEgans.

Liam MacEgan kept coming to ask her questions, and Connor's twin boys followed their cousin everywhere. The noise and bustle of the large family was infectious, and by the end of the meal, Morren found herself holding Genevieve's baby daughter, Alanna.

The baby's blue-grey eyes were serious, her tiny mouth pursed up like a rosebud. She was perhaps three months old, and when Morren lifted the babe to her shoulder, Alanna opened her mouth and began rooting against her neck.

It was bittersweet, to feel the warm baby skin against her own. If she hadn't lost her child, she'd have a rounded bump now. Perhaps she'd even have felt a kick or two.

‘I haven't anything to feed you, little one,' she apologised.

‘She's just been fed,' Genevieve offered. ‘She'll be fine.'

A moment later, Alanna stuffed a tiny fist into her mouth and began suckling it. Her downy head pressed against Morren, and within moments she was asleep.

‘Do you want me to take her?' a voice asked. Turning,
she saw Aileen. The healer's tone was gentle, knowing how difficult it was.

But Morren couldn't bring herself to let the child go. ‘Not yet.' She cupped the baby's head, smoothing at the downy hair on Alanna's scalp.

Trahern sent her a smile, and there was a softness beneath it. He looked for all the world like a man who was meant to be a father. Though he was older than many of his brothers, there was a yearning in his face.

A part of her ached, knowing that another woman would have to give him that, for it wouldn't be her.

Shakily, Morren offered Alanna back to Genevieve. She picked at her food, finding it hard to concentrate.

Beside her, Trahern's leg pressed against her own. Hard and muscled, she remembered the touch of his body. But instead of frightening her, she was drawn to him.

If you're wanting more than friendship, you've only to reach out to him.
Aileen's words resonated in her mind, making her wonder.

Several of the men rose, after their meal. She spied Connor and Bevan talking together, before Trahern leaned in. ‘We're going to Gall Tír.'

‘When?'

‘Now.' His expression darkened, and she felt the urge to shiver.

‘Do you want me to come with you?' Though she knew it was necessary, a coldness slipped down her body, flooding her veins.

‘Not this time. We're going under the guise of a visit. If you go with us, it may alert the raiders.'

‘Be safe,' she said, gripping his hand. A prayer came to her lips, for he and the men to return unharmed.

His hand squeezed her fingers. ‘I'll come back tonight.'

Morren didn't miss Isabel and Aileen's knowing looks, but she said nothing. She didn't want to think about what
was happening between herself and Trahern. Something had shifted, somehow. Now that he was among his family, his anger was softening. Moment by moment, he was starting to return to the man she'd known.

It unsettled her. As long as his focus was upon avenging Ciara's death, he hadn't looked upon her with anything but friendship. But more and more, she felt intertwined with Trahern, bound to him in a way she didn't understand.

He started to walk towards his brothers, but stopped suddenly. She waited to see what it was he wanted. Before she could take another breath, he pulled her close and kissed her hard.

‘Until tonight,
a mhuirnín
.'

 

Later, Morren joined Isabel, Genevieve and Aileen in helping the children to make their masks for Samhain. The activity brought back moments of her own childhood when she and Jilleen had laboured over their own masks.

Made of wood bark and pitch, the fragile masks wouldn't last more than a single night or two. Liam was seated away from his cousins with his completed mask drying upon the table. He laboured over a turnip, scraping out the insides.

‘It will be a lantern,' he promised. ‘And Cavan and I will try to catch one of the
sídhe
on All Hallow's Eve.' He beamed at the thought. ‘Maybe we'll find one of the dead.'

‘You're the one who will be a dead man if you and Cavan leave this ringfort after dark,' the Queen warned.

Though Liam sent a contrite look to his mother, Morren didn't miss his impish wink. After he'd finished hollowing out the turnip for his lantern, Liam brought her a piece of birch to decorate as a mask.

‘I have one made of silver that you may borrow,' Queen Isabel offered. ‘After the feast, we'll have dancing, games, and perhaps we can convince Trahern to tell stories.'

‘He might,' Morren said. Studying the fragile birch, she
reassured Liam, ‘I think this mask will do nicely. I won't need another.'

A boyish smile creased his face. ‘I'll find goose feathers for you. You can decorate the mask with them.' He hurried off in search of them.

But though Morren continued working on the mask, as time crept on, she found herself worrying more and more about Trahern. She wasn't the only one who was restless. After another hour, the boys began chasing each other around the chamber.

‘Outside,' Queen Isabel ordered, when Liam started racing across the floors, skidding into a sliding position to see how far he could reach.

‘I love my son,' she remarked, ‘but there are times when I'm glad Bevan is fostering him, else I might murder the lad.'

Genevieve laughed. ‘I'm certain you feel the same way about Duncan and Cavan.'

Isabel sent Morren a mischievous look. ‘Not at all. Genevieve's sons do nothing wrong.' Even as she spoke the lie, the two boys raced across the Hall, colliding with Liam before they all went outside.

When the room had emptied of the boys, the Queen invited the women near the hearth. ‘Shall we have a bit of sport?'

Aileen spied the pile of hazelnuts and shook her head. ‘Isabel, that's nothing but nonsense. You cannot determine a woman's fortune with a handful of nuts.'

‘Oh, but it's fun,' Genevieve insisted. ‘Come on, then, Isabel. I'll go first.'

Morren had heard of games such as these, and she saw no harm in it. Genevieve cast two nuts near the hearth stones. As they grew warm from the fire, the pair of nuts seemed to grow closer to one another.

‘It seems that you and Bevan will continue to be happy together,' the Queen pronounced. ‘Now me.'

She cast two more nuts upon the hearth, and Morren
gathered with the others to watch. As the heat intensified, Isabel choked out a laugh when both nuts burst into flames.

‘Someone will be enjoying a passionate night tonight,' Aileen predicted. ‘Patrick
has
been away a good deal.' Isabel blushed. ‘Well, I won't argue that one. He's always a bit eager whenever he comes back from a journey.'

From the pleased blush on the Queen's cheeks, it appeared that she wasn't at all unhappy about the prediction of passion in her future. Morren's own cheeks warmed, though she had never experienced pleasure with a man. In spite of herself, she thought of Trahern's warm body and the touch of his tongue against hers. Her breasts shifted against her gown, and she crossed her arms to hide the tightened nipples.

‘Now Morren,' the Queen said. She handed Morren the nuts, with the instructions to toss them upon the hearth. She did, wondering to herself what prediction would come true.

The nuts rolled together at first, but as they heated, one rolled in the other direction.

The mood grew sombre, and Morren already knew the meaning. She and Trahern would part ways.

‘It's only a game,' Isabel reassured her.

She knew that. And it shouldn't bother her at all, for she'd always known she would return home. But the strange ache of discontent wasn't easily brushed aside.

‘Trahern will return with the others,' Aileen reassured her. ‘The Gall Tír settlement isn't far. I've no doubt they'll be back within another hour or two.'

Morren tried to venture a smile but was unsuccessful. ‘I'm sure they will.'

Genevieve offered her the sleeping Alanna. The tiny babe was warm and soft, and Morren knew she'd meant the child
as a distraction. But it was like holding a lost piece of her heart.

As the time crept onward and Trahern still hadn't returned, her spirits sank even further.

T
rahern slipped inside the room Morren was sharing with the other unmarried women. He awakened her with a touch on her shoulder. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, ‘If you want to hear about my encounter with the
Lochlannach
, come with me now.'

Morren nodded and got out of bed, reaching for her overdress. Trahern turned his back while she dressed, and when he felt her palm in his, he led her down the stairs. Past the sleeping men and outside to the inner bailey, they walked hand in hand.

He led her to Isabel's herb garden and Morren sat upon the ground, her gaze assessing the plants without really meaning to. Though she didn't ask him, he knew what she wanted to know.

‘We think they were there,' he admitted. ‘Áron Ó Reilly swears he saw one of them.'

‘Did you confront the chief?'

He shook his head. ‘Not yet. I want to speak with my brother Patrick first. As King of Laochre, he'll know the best way to seek justice.'

After seeing the fortified settlement, he'd had second thoughts about his plans. Though it was a blended tribe of both Irish and Viking, Gall Tír was heavily guarded with trained fighters to defend it. Despite his need for vengeance, to see the men punished, Trahern couldn't risk his family's safety by causing a war. It was best to visit them again with his brother, the King, at his side.

A large granite rock stood in the garden, coated lightly in moss. Trahern sat down on the ground beside her, resting his back against the stone. Morren had neglected to bring her
brat
, so he gave her his cloak to wrap around herself.

She huddled within it and moved beside him. ‘Share it with me. We'll both keep warm.'

He opened his arms and pulled her next to him, draping the cloak around them. ‘I would take you inside, but I'd rather not disturb the others, nor have listening ears around us.'

She shivered, and he did his best to warm her. ‘Do you still want to go to the settlement?'

‘Yes.'

But her voice was hardly a whisper, and he sensed more that she wasn't telling him.

‘If you feel uncertain about it, you don't have to go. I wouldn't ask that of you.'

Morren rested her head against his chest. ‘I'm going with you, Trahern. Tomorrow, if you want.'

‘Not until the King returns. And we need to plan this carefully.' He gathered her onto his lap, pulling her close. The softness of her hair tickled his nose, and he breathed in her scent. It felt right, holding her like this.

Her hand moved in slow circles over his chest, and the gentle caress brought him a peace he hadn't known in a long time.

‘Morren,' he murmured, catching her hand. He drew her back to face him, and in the faint moonlight, her face was
shadowed. ‘I should tell you…that when I want these men punished…it's not only for Ciara. It's for you.'

Morren didn't speak, but moved her palm to touch his face. The bristles of his growing beard abraded her hand, and she moved it across the new growth of hair. A faint smile tilted her mouth, and he inwardly vowed not to shave it again.

The softness of her fingertips held him captive. Did she know that she'd brought him back from the edge, transforming the beast into a man once more? She'd taken away the emptiness, making him feel emotions again.

‘You loved Ciara, I know.' Her voice remained quiet, but her hand was stoking another kind of warmth. He wanted to taste her mouth again, to forget the empty months of loneliness.

‘I did.'

‘Do you miss her?'

Ciara's presence wouldn't easily be forgotten. But there was a goodness in the bond between himself and Morren. Something that was soothing the raw scars, healing the pain of loss.

‘Aye. But it's not as bad as it was.' He drew his hand down to her nape, bringing her closer until her forehead touched his. ‘You bring me solace.'

There was a slight hitch in her breath, and her trembling no longer seemed to be from the cold.

‘Every moment I spend with you, it gets a little easier.' His mouth moved so close to hers, it was almost a kiss. Against her lips, he murmured, ‘I'm thankful for it.'

When he took a kiss from her, she opened to him. Like a seedling, thirsting for water, she drank from his lips. And though he longed to deepen the kiss, he didn't push her, keeping it as nothing more than an offering.

‘Once this is over, I'm returning home,' she said, breaking away from him.

She was poised as if ready to flee. Her fear was written upon her face, and she turned her face to his shoulder.

‘I know. But is there harm in wanting to be with you? To see what happens?' He rested his palm upon her back. ‘Unless you'd rather I left you alone.'

‘Trahern, I held Genevieve's babe in my arms today.' Her voice held the weight of unshed tears. ‘It made me think of my son.'

His answer was to pull her into his embrace, holding her. Her arms wound around his neck, and it consoled him to know that she wasn't pushing him away.

He kept his voice steady. ‘I wish I could have saved him.'

‘It's just that—you were meant to be a father one day. I can see how much you love your nieces and nephews. And I can't give you that.'

‘Don't think about what might or might not happen in the future,' he said, running his hand down the length of her hair. ‘One moment at a time.'

She grew still within his arms, and he cupped her face in his hands. ‘Unless you'd rather I didn't touch you at all.'

 

Morren didn't know what to say. Right now, being in his arms, she could feel the desire he was trying to hold back. And her own skin was growing hotter, despite the crisp autumn air. She couldn't deny the things he made her feel. They were at a crossroads, and though her mind was warning her that she couldn't possibly consider anything more with Trahern, her body was responding to him.

Her hesitation brought back the guarded expression on his face. By remaining silent, she'd made him believe that she wanted nothing to do with him.

He helped her rise to her feet. ‘I'll escort you back to your chamber.'

But she didn't want that. She didn't want him to distance himself, not now. When she was with Trahern, the past didn't seem to matter any more. He didn't look upon her as a damaged woman.

‘Wait.' She took his hand in hers. Though heat rushed into her cheeks, she wanted him to know that she cared for him. Guiding him to the stone, she exerted a gentle pressure on his shoulders. ‘Sit down for a moment.'

He obeyed without question, and Morren stood before him. She rested her hands on his shoulders, and forced herself to move closer. Lifting his palms, she set them about her waist.

She didn't know if she had the courage to reach out to him in this way. But she couldn't say what was inside her heart, for she didn't really understand the feelings. All she knew was that she needed him. His presence steadied her, and she didn't want to lose that.

Slowly, she bent down and touched her mouth to his. It was the only offering she could give, and he took it, meeting her kiss. He brought her closer, opening his mouth and touching her tongue with his own. The shocking sensation sent a tingling shudder through her body, until her nipples strained into tight peaks.

But it wasn't from the cold.

Trahern kissed her as though she were the only woman in the world, the one who had brought him back from the edge of madness. The heat swirled through her, dampening the place between her legs. She ached there, and it startled her to think that she could ever welcome a man in that way.

‘Come here,' he whispered. ‘Sit with me.'

She thought he would pull her onto his lap, but instead he lifted her to straddle his muscled thigh. Her instinct, to pull away, was so strong, she almost did. But he didn't move at all, only resting his hands at her waist. He massaged a soft circle over her spine, and she began to relax.

The pressure of his leg against her centre brought another rippling sensation. She didn't understand it, but before she could protest, he captured her mouth with his.

His tongue nudged hers, sleek and wet. A moan caught in
her throat as he kissed her. He shifted his leg in the barest movement, and her breathing quickened. The sensation of his thigh pressed against her sent a tightness swelling up in her centre.

She yearned to run from it, for she didn't want this feeling. Fear washed over her, but she forced the memories away. She trusted Trahern never to hurt her. And in his dark grey eyes, she lost herself.

‘Don't fight it,' he said gruffly. ‘Let me give this to you. Just let go.'

He shifted his leg again, sliding her against the thick muscles. She could hardly breathe as his mouth took hers in a kiss that pushed away all the darkness. In a rhythm that tantalised and terrified her, he moved his thigh, while his tongue slid inside her mouth.

A strange yearning began to fill her, and she strained against his leg. Swollen and burning with need, she nearly tried to move away from him, but he held her fast.

‘Let it happen,' he urged again. And with another nudge of motion, she felt herself trembling on the brink of something. His mouth captured hers, and abruptly, her body erupted with a shimmering pleasure that rocked through her. She gasped against his lips, and her nipples rubbed against the fabric of her
léine
while she rode out the intense sensations.

She melted against him, holding fast to his neck while her heartbeat raced.

‘What happened to me?' she whispered. ‘Just now when you—' Her words broke off when he pressed his leg between hers again. ‘Sweet Virgin, don't.'

His hand stroked her back, and he drew her to him with a wicked smile. ‘That's what lovemaking is about,
a stór
. Giving a woman pleasure.'

Her mind went back to Queen Isabel's earlier remark about her husband and the passion they shared. The happy blush on
the woman's face hadn't been at all fearful. Was that the way it was meant to be?

She searched Trahern's face, trying to understand. Beneath his lazy smile, she saw a hint of physical frustration. ‘What about you?'

‘Don't worry about me. This was for you.'

She brought her mouth to his and kissed him with a gentle brush of her lips. He returned the light kiss and stood, easing her down. ‘I'll escort you back.'

She could hardly walk, and delicious sensations thrummed within her body. But even so, she didn't miss the caged hunger in his demeanour, nor the way he watched her from the corner of his eye.

His heated gaze made her recall the fierce, soaring pleasure. She was attuned to him in a different way, and she wondered why he'd awakened this within her.

When they stood before the chamber she shared with the rest of Isabel's ladies, he touched her face. ‘Sleep well,
a mhuirnín
.'

A blush warmed her cheeks, but she nodded. ‘And you.'

‘In a few days more, we'll return to Gall Tír,' he said. ‘After Samhain and the King's return.'

A cold chill spiralled through her. Though she understood that she had to go to face her attackers, another part of her wanted to hide from it.

‘You won't be alone,' he assured her. ‘The King and our men will be there. I'll guard you myself.'

She knew it, but it didn't diminish her consternation. Nor the fear that, once she faced the men, she would retreat back inside herself again.

 

Trahern hardly saw Morren the rest of the following day. After King Patrick returned with their youngest brother, Ewan, all of them gathered to discuss the raiders.

‘They were mercenaries,' Trahern told them. ‘Hired by someone to kill as many of the Ó Reillys as possible.'

‘But even if you do find the mercenaries among the Hardrata tribe, can it be proven?' Patrick asked. ‘It's your word against theirs.'

‘We have multiple witnesses who can identify them. And surely they would have been gone from Gall Tír at the time of the attack.'

‘Where does Morren fit into this?' the King asked suddenly. Trahern saw the knowing look in Patrick's eyes. There was more to the question than simple curiosity.

He could try to hide the truth from them, but they knew him too well. If they believed she was simply the victim of losing her home or kin, they might not understand his deep need for justice.

He wanted those men dead. And they'd never understand why, unless they knew the real reason.

‘She is one of the witnesses,' he answered. His voice hardened, and his knuckles clenched. ‘She can identify the men better than any of the others. Every single one.' He stood from the table and regarded each of his brothers. ‘They hurt her.'

He said nothing about the violation she'd endured; he didn't have to. He saw the way their faces tightened in understanding.

‘If any man laid a hand upon Genevieve, I'd flay the skin from his bones,' Bevan admitted.

‘Then you know why I want them punished.' He sat down once more, waiting for Patrick to give his opinion. But the King seemed to be weighing his own thoughts, listening to all that was said.

‘How should we approach the chief?' Trahern asked. ‘Much as I'd like to simply go in and kill the bastards, I'd rather not cause a war between our tribe and theirs.'

Patrick sat back and seemed to consider the matter. ‘The Ó Reilly men have just cause for their accusations. They can
bring the matter before the
brehons
and ask for compensation if the men are found guilty. As for Morren—' He stopped and studied Trahern for a moment. ‘She may also seek justice. There is no need for your involvement.'

‘She's under my protection. I won't let her go alone.' Trahern didn't say anything more, for he couldn't name the feelings he had for Morren. It went deeper than he'd realised. He wanted vengeance for her sake, so she could go on with her life. ‘I've promised her that the MacEgan men will offer their support.'