Surrender to an Irish Warrior (19 page)

‘You look nervous, lad,' came an old woman's voice. It was Annle.

He offered her a smile in greeting, and she motioned him closer. ‘I have something for you. I've kept it all these years, and it may be that you'll want to have it.' Annle pressed a cloth-wrapped packet into his hand. ‘It belonged to
her
.'

He didn't need to ask whom she meant. Without elaborating, the old healer hobbled away to join the children. A small boy hugged her leg, before Annle dropped a kiss upon his forehead.

Trahern waited until he was alone before unwrapping the packet. Inside, he found an unusual stone. Upon the stone, it seemed that the spirit of a fish had been captured, carved within the rock. A small section of the stone had broken off, but the image of the fish was clear. Someone had bored a hole into the rock, lacing a strip of leather through it to form a necklace.

He rubbed his thumb over the rough imprint of the fish, wondering what sort of woman his mother had been. Like the stone, it was as though there were a piece missing of himself. A mystery that would never fully resolve.

And deep inside, he feared that the man who had fathered him was one of the
Lochlannach
at Gall Tír. Would he find a man who looked like him, among the enemy?

Lifting the necklace over his head, Trahern tucked it beneath his tunic, where it rested upon his chest. He wished he could have known the woman who had given him life. It felt strange to wear something that had belonged to her.

‘Trahern,' a voice called out. ‘Are you coming to witness
the handfastings?' Connor MacEgan approached, but then stopped short at the sight of Trahern's finery. A cheeky grin spread over the man's face. ‘Well, now. You look fetching, don't you?'

Trahern only shrugged, studying the crowds of people for a glimpse of Morren. ‘What do you want?'

‘What do I want?' Connor repeated. His face twisted, and he uttered a dramatic sigh. ‘If you really want to know, sleep is what I'm wanting, brother. A full night of sleep.'

He rubbed at his head, adding, ‘Finn came running into our chamber last night, claiming he was afraid of the dark. And not a minute later, Dylan joined him.' Yawning, Connor added, ‘Wait until you've children of your own. They're both a blessing and the curse of your existence.'

Trahern said nothing, for he couldn't imagine himself as a father. Not with Morren as his bride, or anyone else. It seemed like an impossible vision, though he wouldn't have minded having sons.

‘Don't worry, Trahern,' Connor teased. ‘One day you'll know what I mean, if Morren agrees to wed you.'

‘She—' Trahern started to answer, but Connor cut him off.

‘After all, you're too tall and not nearly as handsome as the rest of us.' Connor reached out to rub his head, and Trahern caught the man's wrist.

‘This isn't a laughing matter, Connor.' He knew his brother was only trying to break his foul mood by teasing him. But the jest had the reverse effect. All his life Trahern had been teased about his height. Many a time, he'd used it to his advantage, fighting with Bevan or Connor when they'd insulted him.

But today, it only reminded him that they weren't his true family. There was a reason why they looked nothing alike. It sobered him, making him feel like more of an outsider. He almost wished he'd never heard the truth from Annle. Beneath his tunic, the shell necklace felt harsh upon his skin.

‘Have you seen Morren?' he asked Connor.

‘She's with the women. She went to speak with Aileen earlier, but that's all I know.' His brother's eyes gleamed. ‘Did she agree to the marriage? You did ask her, didn't you?'

‘I did ask,' he said tightly, ‘and I think she might.'

Connor's face transformed from surprise into happiness. He slapped him on the back, adding, ‘Good. It's about time you opened your eyes and saw what was in front of you.'

‘And what do you mean by that?'

‘She's good for you, Trahern,' Connor said. ‘You're happier with her.' His brother's face turned serious. ‘I know this past season has been hard on you. When we saw you at Midsummer's Eve, I'd never seen you like that before.'

‘Like what?'

‘Enraged,' Connor admitted. ‘You looked like you would have taken a dagger to your own throat. Like you cared about nothing any more. Not even us.'

Trahern stared into his brother's face. He'd been so caught up in his grief and his need for revenge that he'd kept everyone away. ‘I wanted to die,' he admitted. ‘Every time I saw you with Aileen or Patrick with Isabel, I was eaten up with jealousy. All I could think of was what I'd lost with Ciara.'

‘It was terrible, seeing you like that.' Connor rested his scarred hand upon Trahern's shoulder. ‘We're family, Trahern. And whether you know it or not, your pain was ours.' His dark expression softened. ‘If Morren is the cause of bringing you back to us, I can only be grateful to her.'

As they walked toward the inner bailey, Connor's words forced his spirits even lower. For they weren't truly family, were they? His brothers believed that they shared the same parents, when there was no blood between them. All they had were memories.

He held his tongue, not wanting to lose that. Though Morren had claimed his brothers would stand by him, even
knowing the truth, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. Not yet, for he didn't want to relinquish the MacEgan name.

In the small courtyard, several couples waited with the priest. Among them, he saw his youngest brother Ewan holding the hand of his new wife, Honora.

Though the pair had been married only a few weeks ago, there was no dimming their happiness. Honora rushed forward and hugged him. ‘Ewan told me you were here, Trahern. I'm so glad to see you.' She reached up and rubbed his head, smiling at the new growth of hair. ‘You're looking more handsome, I must say.'

He ignored her comment and voiced the question, ‘Why is it that women are fascinated with touching my head?'

‘Enjoy it,' Ewan urged. ‘If women would come up and rub my head, I'd shave it every day.'

‘And I'd run them through with a blade,' Honora retorted. ‘Watch yourself, MacEgan.'

Ewan kissed his wife. ‘You can rub my head whenever you want,
a stór
. Or other things.'

Honora's face turned crimson. ‘I can't believe you said that out loud.'

His brother's teasing made him laugh, and with his humour restored, Trahern joined them to watch the handfastings. Couple after couple spoke their promises, and Father Brían blessed the marriages, combining pagan and Christian traditions. It was the way of their family, remembering the past, along with the present.

When the last marriage was completed, he ignored the emptiness of disappointment. Morren hadn't come. He wondered if she'd changed her mind again. Grimacing, he turned away, ignoring the platters of steaming food that were brought forth from the kitchen.

‘Trahern,' came a voice. It was Connor's wife, Aileen. Her face was pale, but she took him aside from the others. ‘I spoke with Morren this afternoon.'

The devastated expression on her face made him wary. ‘Is she all right?'

Aileen's nod was hesitant. ‘She told me…everything.' Tears filled up the healer's eyes, and she reached out to take his hands. ‘I understand now why you're so protective of her.'

‘Where is she?'

‘She's coming to join you and Father Brían now.' Aileen reached out and touched his cheek. ‘But you should know something, Trahern. Though her body may have fully healed, there are some injuries that haven't. And I doubt if she'll have children.'

‘It doesn't matter,' he responded. It was the truth. He didn't own his own land, and he had no need for heirs.

‘I bid you happiness,' Aileen said, stepping away. Within moments, he saw Morren arriving to speak with the priest. Her hair was crowned with heather, and she wore a gown he'd never seen before. The forest-green silk was trimmed with fur, the cloth vibrant in colour.

‘It's the gown you meant for Morren to have,' Aileen murmured. ‘Isabel arranged to purchase the silk, after you sent that lad off with a handful of coins the other morning.'

‘It wasn't enough for silk,' he argued.

‘No, but Isabel contributed some. She thought there would come an occasion when Morren would need a finer gown. And I see she was right.'

It pleased him to know that he'd contributed to the gown, though he'd only intended to offer Morren something better to wear than her travelling clothes.

‘We spent most of the day sewing,' Aileen continued. She rubbed at her fingers. ‘Morren looks beautiful, don't you think?'

Trahern took a step forward, then another. His bride's hair was intertwined with tiny golden balls, which accentuated the fair colour of the strands. ‘She does.'

He walked past Aileen to join Morren. He took her hands
in his, feeling spellbound by her appearance. ‘The gown looks well on you.'

Her cheeks grew pink, and she gave his hands a faint squeeze. ‘Thank you.'

Then they turned to the priest, and Trahern grew aware that all of his brothers and wives had come close to hear their vows. As he spoke the words that bound him to Morren, he didn't miss the way Patrick drew Isabel closer. Or the way each of his brothers held his wife, as if to echo the promises made. He was glad for their presence, though the burden of his past weighed down upon him.

Morren's hand squeezed his, her blue eyes soft. Though she appeared uncomfortable with everyone watching them, her lips curved in a faint smile. Whether she meant to reassure him or herself, he didn't know. But when he looked into her eyes, he was startled at the contentment of having her at his side.

Only a few weeks ago, she couldn't have endured the touch of his hand in hers. So much had changed between them. Within her expression, he saw faith and trust. His fingers tightened over hers in a silent promise to take care of her.

When the three cords were wrapped around his wrist and Morren's, the MacEgans applauded with cheers and encouragement to kiss her. Trahern didn't ask permission, but touched his lips to Morren's. They were hesitant, but she accepted his kiss of peace.

‘Kiss her longer than that!' Ewan called out.

Trahern started to refuse, not wanting to embarrass his bride. But Morren had already risen up on her tiptoes. Though she was flustered, he saw amusement on her face.

This time when he kissed her, he tilted her face to meet his. He hardly heard the voices around them or the teasing when her unbound hand went around his neck.

When their lips touched, he gave her the kiss a new husband
ought to give his wife. Hungry and heated, he captured her mouth, coaxing her to surrender.

Morren rested her hand upon his face, then broke free of the kiss to the sound of loud cheers. Her face was crimson, and Trahern held her waist close.

 

The remainder of the evening had blurred, and he hardly remembered any of it, though they had shared food and drink. He couldn't take his eyes off of his bride, and at one moment, Morren cast him a smile.

‘I'm not going to leave you, Trahern. Our hands are bound together,' she reminded him. ‘I couldn't if I wanted to.'

And yet, beneath her words, he sensed a sudden edge, as though something bothered her. He lowered his voice to murmur, ‘You seem frightened. What troubles you?'

From the glance she cast towards Aileen, he sensed he knew what it was. ‘Let them believe what they want,' he said softly. ‘I won't touch you.'

Morren tried to muster a smile, though her face had gone pale. Trahern led her away from the others so they could speak alone about whatever it was.

‘I've been thinking about what happened between us last night,' she admitted. ‘I turned it over in my mind so many times, I could hardly sleep at all.'

He waited for her to continue, and she lowered her chin. ‘You told me what it would be like, if you gave in to your desires.' A faint shiver rocked through her. ‘And though it terrifies me, I want to rid myself of the unwanted memories.'

She rested her bound hand upon his heart, staring into his eyes. ‘I want to become your wife in body, as well as in name. For however long that is.'

L
ater that night after the feasting was over, the King and Queen had offered them a chamber to themselves. Unlike other weddings Morren had attended, there were no women to laugh and undress her. Thankfully, Aileen had kept the other wives away, allowing them privacy.

But now Morren stared at the bed in the centre of the room. It was small, leaving no doubt that she and Trahern would touch each other while they slept.

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. The fear consumed her so badly, she could hardly move. She didn't know if she could go through with her promise. At the deepest level, she was afraid of losing her courage, of screaming and trying to push him away. Or, worst of all, lying beneath him while he used her body for his own pleasure.

A hard knot formed in her throat, for she didn't want to believe it would be like that. She wanted so badly to let go of the past, to move beyond her fear. But she sensed that she would be nothing but a disappointment to him.

Trahern reached to loosen the cords that bound their hands. Morren took a breath, willing herself not to cry. To
her surprise, he took her in his arms, holding her. His strong arms were like a shield, and she breathed in the welcome scent of a man who cared.

‘You're tired, aren't you?' he murmured.

The words were an offer to escape his touch, to simply sleep beside him. But she found herself saying, ‘No. I'm all right.'

His hand pressed against her hair, loosening the plaited strands until they fell free around her shoulders. He removed the crown she'd formed of vines and heather. The green fragrance calmed her, reminding her of the hillside where Aileen had helped her find the late-blooming flowers.

‘Come and sit,' he bade her, leading her to a wooden bench. A steaming basin of water rested upon the floor, no doubt placed there by the Queen's servants. She recognised sprigs of dried lavender floating in the water, no doubt to soothe her anxiety.

She started to take off her shoes, but Trahern interrupted her. ‘Let me.'

He removed the shoes, immersing her bare feet in the water. His large hands washed her skin, massaging the soreness from them. Morren closed her eyes, surrendering to the gentleness of his touch. He poured warm water over her calves, his hands caressing her skin as though she were something precious.

Warmth slid over her, and she looked down into his eyes. He was focused upon her, humbling himself like a servant. When he saw her gaze, his hands grew still.

‘Don't fear me, Morren,' he said slowly. ‘I'll make no demands of you.' He reached for a cloth and dried her feet. ‘As you said last night, nothing's changed.' His face ventured a quiet smile.

She didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't this. And then it occurred to her that he'd once planned to marry Ciara. Was he thinking of her and what they'd shared together?

‘If you don't want to be with me, I understand,' she
man aged. Shame poured through her, for even asking this of him.

He was hesitant, choosing his words carefully. ‘It's not what I had intended.' He sat down on the bed and took his shoes off. ‘I think it's better if I leave you alone.'

An unexpected tangle of frustration balled up in her stomach. She'd steeled herself to do this, to face her greatest fear. The last thing she'd expected was for him to turn her down.

‘All right,' she lied. ‘That's all right, then.'

Was it so wrong to hope that he'd give in to the flush of desire both of them had felt last night? Why did he have to suddenly behave with honour?

This morn, she'd confessed everything to Aileen. She'd released all the painful nightmares she'd held inside, and the healer had hugged her tightly. Then Aileen had said that Trahern could heal the wounds no one else could see. That if Morren asked anything of him, he would not turn her away.

And yet he had.

‘I've hurt your feelings, haven't I?' His deep voice held pity, and it was beginning to irritate her.

She stood up and walked towards the bed. ‘No. That's not it.' Before he could say anything patronising, she spilled out her thoughts. ‘I wanted to forget about what was done to me. And I thought you could…help me to overcome my fear of…joining with a man.'

Though she could hardly believe she was telling him all of this, she couldn't seem to stop herself. ‘You wanted me last night. You told me all the things you wanted to do.'

Her skin was alive with a blend of fear and desire. Trahern was staring at her, as though he didn't know what to say or do. Driven by shame, Morren blurted the rest out. ‘I know this isn't a lasting arrangement, but I thought that, maybe, you could—'

She stopped speaking, feeling like an utter fool. ‘Forget what I said. It was a bad idea.'

But Trahern hadn't taken his eyes from her. There was definite interest there, but she sensed the conflicted feelings. ‘I haven't been with a woman in a very long time,
a chara
.'

‘Oh.' It seemed a ridiculous thing to say, but she could think of nothing better.

‘I don't want you to hold regrets,' he added.

She let out a sigh, shrugging. ‘It doesn't matter.' She tried to convince herself that the words were true. It was just as well, for she probably couldn't have gone through with it. And yet, unexpected regret spread through her.

‘Don't look at me like that. I'm trying to do what's right.' His voice was grim, and she tried to force away her hurt feelings.

‘I liked it better when you weren't thinking,' she admitted. ‘I liked kissing you. It was nice.' She sat beside him on the bed, one foot tucked under her.

‘Nice?' There was a dry tone to his voice, as if she'd insulted him.

‘Well, yes.' Was he hoping for another compliment? ‘You're very good at kissing.'

Trahern eyed her for a moment before he lifted his tunic away, baring hardened skin. She saw the outline of pectoral muscles and a tight stomach. The startling instinct to touch him came over her without warning, but she held her hands back.

He's only undressing because he plans to sleep
, she told herself.
Not because he wants something else.

Her pulse beat wildly, like a primitive drum. His grey eyes studied her, and beneath his gaze she grew flushed. Second thoughts collided with her courage, and now she wished she'd never spoken.

To distract herself from her embarrassment, she removed her overdress, leaving her
léine
on. The form-fitting gown hid every part of her body, and yet she shivered as Trahern
watched her. She supposed she'd get warmer when she was beneath the coverlet.

But sleep would be impossible now.

‘Come here, Morren,' he murmured, ‘and I'll kiss you goodnight.' It was a way of pacifying her and yet setting boundaries.

Before she could say another word, his mouth touched hers lightly. It was more than the brush of their lips, but neither was it the captivating kiss that had stolen her wits yestereve. She leaned in, her hands resting upon his heartbeat.

Trahern shuddered, and she pulled her palms away, afraid she'd trespassed.

‘No,' he murmured, putting her hands back. ‘It's all right.'

Her hands moved tentatively, unsure of herself. But he fascinated her, with his honed muscles and warm, smooth skin. She trailed her fingers down his chest, over his ribcage to his waist. A breath escaped him, and Trahern's gaze grew heated. He tempted her in ways she didn't understand.

He laid down on his stomach, baring his back to her. ‘Lie down beside me,' he offered. A small smile lifted his mouth. ‘And if you want to keep touching me, I'll not complain.'

She hesitated, but realised that it would be more comfortable to stretch out on the mattress. There seemed to be no haste on his part, and so she laid down beside him while caressing his back with one hand.

He shivered when she reached his lower spine. Did she truly have that effect upon him? The instinct to taste his skin came over her, and she pressed her lips to the place her hands had just touched. A prickle of gooseflesh rippled over him, and she placed another kiss higher upon his spine.

She stopped, questioning what she was doing. Trahern rolled onto his side, and the look on his face held her captive.

‘There's no need to stop.' He placed her hand on his back once again. ‘I'll endure it if I must.' The teasing note in his
voice made her relax, and this time she massaged his shoulders, growing bolder. With her fingers, she touched the back of his neck, reaching up to the fine hair upon his scalp.

He groaned, and his fingers clenched into the mattress. Encouraged by his response, she soothed the tension and knots from his neck. But when her lips brushed the nape of his neck, he rolled over.

Dark grey eyes caught hers in silent invitation. He cupped her nape, and her hair spilled between them. He drew her atop him, his mouth covering hers.

Like warm rain, his kiss melted through her, sinking down into the secret places of her body. She felt her breasts tighten against her
léine
, feeling heavier and more sensitive.

His hand slid beneath the hem of her gown and up her calves. He kissed her again, his thumb pressing lazy circles over her lower leg. Though the gesture was nothing more than what he'd done before when he'd washed her feet, it conjured an echoing sensation in other places. Her skin grew warmer, the underdress constraining her.

When his touch moved beneath the neckline of the gown to touch her bare shoulders, she couldn't stop the wave of trembling that came over her.

‘I want to take this off,' he said huskily. ‘And God help me, I know it's wrong.'

Her throat closed up with shame, and a heavy silence descended between them. ‘I shouldn't have asked you.'

He linked his fingers with hers. For a long time, he studied her, searching for answers, it seemed. ‘You said you wanted to forget what had happened to you.'

She nodded. Just being near him made her feel desire, and she hadn't forgotten the way he'd evoked such a strong release. ‘Aileen said…the best way to forget about that night was to replace it with better memories. And you're the only man I trust.'

His hand moved to her face, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Are you certain you want to do this?'

She gave a nod, trying to mask her fear.

‘You hold all the power,
a mhuirnín
. Any time you want me to stop, speak the word.' His grey eyes held an irrevocable promise. In them, she saw desire, and something she couldn't quite understand.

Though she was terrified of what would happen next, she trusted him. ‘Turn around.'

He did, rising from the bed and facing the opposite wall. Morren removed her
léine
, sliding naked beneath the coverlet. The rough wool abraded her bare skin, and she grew cold, both with fear and anticipation. Closing her eyes, she turned to the opposite wall and proclaimed, ‘I'm ready.'

A moment later, she felt his weight upon the mattress, and he got under the covers with her. His feet touched hers, and when her hand brushed against his knee, she realised that he, too, was naked. Panic froze her in place, and she gritted her teeth when his palm touched her shoulders. ‘Relax,
a mhuirnín
. Lie on your stomach.' When she obeyed, he moved the coverlet down to expose her back. His hands caressed her skin, massaging the back of her neck, just as she had done for him. Warmth permeated her, and he trailed a kiss down her spine.

The softness of his mouth made her think of the other night when he'd promised to kiss every part of her body. Would he? She shivered at the thought. What would it feel like?

Slowly, she rolled onto her side, revealing her breasts to him. His eyes grew hooded, dark with desire. ‘I want to touch you,' he whispered. ‘And I want to taste you.'

His words were heady, and she took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was to come. She gave a slight nod, but it couldn't have prepared her for the sensation of his thumb and forefinger, teasing the hardened tip of her nipple. Soft and sensual, he caressed the sensitive bud, and she felt an echoing
sensation between her thighs. A shudder rocked through her, but it was nothing compared to the delicious warmth of his mouth upon her breast. His sleek tongue darted against the tip, coaxing her to pull him closer. He took her breast into his mouth, suckling one nipple while his hand teased the other. Her breathing quickened, her fingers grasping the softness of his short hair.

‘You taste like the sweetest spring berries,' he said against her flesh, and his mouth moved lower to her stomach.

It was like fire, licking at each limb, consuming her with heat. She held on to his neck, shuddering as his palm moved over her hip.

It took the greatest courage of all to lie still when his hand brushed over the mound of curls between her legs. Her knees locked, instinctively trying to remain shut. Trahern didn't argue, but he lowered his hand to rest upon the triangle.

‘I've never wanted any woman more than you,' he admitted. ‘And there's nothing I want more than to watch you soar with release. I want to see your face and watch you come apart.'

His finger slid to rest upon the flesh just inside the top of her intimate folds. Though she hadn't unclenched her legs at all, she was shocked at the arousing sensation of his finger stroking her.

She found herself leaning into his touch, straining for him to reach the part of her that ached. His mouth covered her nipple once more, tantalising her, and making her shift her thighs together.

It frustrated her, that she needed him to touch somewhere else, and yet he wasn't in the right place. The rhythmic touch of his hand became a torment. Morren lifted her hips, opening to him.

When she did, he lowered his thumb just slightly. Not enough to ease her, but closer.