Surrender to an Irish Warrior (22 page)

‘All of us tried to kill each other,' Bevan added. ‘Have you forgotten when Liam convinced us that we could fly, if only we concentrated hard enough?'

‘I was seven,' Trahern remembered. ‘It was Midsummer's Eve, when I was home visiting from fostering.' He'd been so glad to see his family again, he'd spent all day playing with his brothers.

‘We climbed the highest tree we could manage.' A pang caught him, as he thought of the eldest MacEgan brother, Liam, who had died in battle years ago. ‘Liam told me to close my eyes and flap my arms as hard as I could.'

Bevan grinned. ‘You realised he was lying when you hit the third branch. Da beat Liam senseless, and our mother fed him naught but gruel for a week after. I thought she wasn't going to forgive him for it.'

‘I nearly didn't forgive him.' He couldn't stop his smile, as he studied each of his brothers. ‘I broke my arm that summer.'

Bevan smirked. ‘It was funny at the time, watching you flap your arms. Until you got hurt.'

‘I thought it was rather funny, too,' Connor admitted with a chagrined look. ‘I was glad you jumped first, for I changed my mind about flying after I saw you fall.'

Hundreds of stories and memories bound them together, Trahern realised. And through it all, was the unbreakable bond of brotherhood.

‘It doesn't matter, Trahern,' Patrick said quietly. ‘Blood or not, you've been my brother, all my life. And always will be.'

It was then that Annle slipped quietly from the room, a faint smile upon her mouth. She'd known. Keeping his birth a secret wasn't meant to deceive others. His parents had known
the truth, but it hadn't mattered. Saraid had never once treated him any differently from the others. He'd believed he was a MacEgan, because he was raised as one.

‘I don't know what to call myself any more,' Trahern admitted. ‘MacEgan or Dalrata.'

‘You know the answer to that,' Patrick said. ‘Do you believe we'd turn our back on you, after all these years?'

‘No.' He understood then, that to take any other name was an insult to them. ‘You wouldn't.'

‘Good. That's settled.' Ewan stood up and walked to the door. ‘There's a good deal of snow on the ground. I'm thinking we should make use of it.'

They left the chamber, and it was as if they were boys again, planning to make fools of themselves in the snow. Before he could join them, Patrick stopped him. ‘Are you taking Morren back to her home, or will you remain here?'

He sobered. ‘I have to go back with her. And after that, I don't know.'

The remnants of the disagreement he'd had with his wife hung over him. He couldn't think about it now, not when he didn't know what to do about her desire for a child.

‘You might want to spend time with the Dalratas over the winter,' Patrick advised. ‘It may be wise to get acquainted with your other family.'

‘You're right.' Trahern started down the stairs. ‘But first, I think Ewan needs a lesson in humility.'

The Queen was coming up the stairs with her maid and overheard their conversation. ‘You're not planning to get my husband all wet with snow, are you?'

‘Him and the others, yes.' Trahern shrugged at Isabel. ‘We'll have a fight in the snow. And when I've finished, you can take the wet clothes off him.'

A flush rose in Isabel's cheeks. ‘Well, hurry up, then.' She sent a seductive smile to her husband. ‘I'll be waiting for you.'

Patrick eyed her with his own wicked smile. ‘And when is the last time you played in the snow,
a stór
?'

She gave a delighted laugh. ‘I'll join you.'

 

Morren stood in the shadows of the castle, watching the men throwing balls of snow at one another. The swirling storm was beautiful, and when she saw Trahern among his brothers, a wistful smile crossed over her face.

‘Come with us,' came Aileen's voice from behind her. The healer had bundled herself in a warm woollen gown, her
brat
wound over her head. ‘I'm planning to.'

Honora and Isabel were already among the others, laughing and ducking when snow came their way.

‘I don't know if he would want me to join them.' After the way Trahern had turned from her, Morren couldn't seem to let go of the hurt. He'd rejected her, and she hadn't known she could feel so humiliated. Though he'd claimed it was because he didn't want to risk her life, all she could think about was how empty it had felt, with him sleeping on the opposite side of the bed.

‘You're his wife,' Aileen countered. ‘Of course you should come.' The dark-haired healer reached up and lifted Morren's
brat
around her head and shoulders. ‘It will be fun.'

‘He's angry with me right now,' Morren confessed.

‘And how many times have Connor and I fought?' Aileen retorted. ‘We've been married for five years now, and I can't even name all the arguments we've had. He can be as pig-headed as the next man, believing he's right. But you can convince him of your own way, sure enough.'

Morren found herself following Aileen outside. ‘He's afraid I'll bear another child.'

Aileen stopped walking. ‘Oh. So that's it, then.' She nodded towards them. ‘I won't lie to you and say it wouldn't be dangerous. But there's always hope.' The healer offered a warm smile. ‘And I think it would do you some good to
release your anger in a good snow fight. Knock some sense into Trahern.'

‘I don't think it would work.' She eyed the men, who were covered in splattered snow.

‘If he's denying you in bed, I'd say you have more than a few reasons to knock him about.' Aileen reached down and formed a tight ball of snow. ‘You're a woman. The best form of revenge is to drive him wild with wanting you.'

‘But I don't know how.' The very idea of trying to seduce Trahern, though it fascinated her, made her feel like an awkward girl of thirteen. Was she supposed to strip off her clothing? Throw herself at him?

‘Deny him,' Aileen said. ‘Use your body to tell him that he can look, but he can't touch. Believe me, it won't take more than a few hours to convince him to be with you. MacEgan men are hot-blooded. I know that, well enough.' She handed Morren the snow ball. ‘Go and teach him a lesson.'

Morren sent Aileen a hopeful smile. ‘I just might.'

A
slushy shower of snow struck him on the back of the neck. Trahern spun, ready to fire his own packed ball. When he saw Morren standing behind him, he was taken aback.

‘Did you just—?' His words were cut off when she hurled another ball at him, striking at his shoulder. ‘Now that was a mistake, Morren.' He strode forward, hurling the ball at her shoulder. It exploded on impact, dousing her with wet snow.

‘I'm not a bit sorry for it.' Her mouth curved upwards, and he realised that she was using the snow fight as a means of releasing her anger and frustration.

When another snowball struck him, he whirled and saw Ewan was the guilty party. Before he could return the blow, Morren had struck Ewan across the face with another snowball.

‘Good shot,' he murmured.

She sent him a conspiratorial smile. As the fight continued with his brothers, Morren proved that her arm was as good as she'd boasted. Even when his brothers ran to try to avoid her, she managed to nick them with the snow.

Gunnar joined them, and his
Lochlannach
brother proved
to have as strong an aim as Morren. The three of them allied together against Connor, Aileen, Patrick and Isabel. Ewan and Honora kept switching sides.

 

After nearly an hour, all of them were soaked, and freezing.

‘Lucky bastard,' Gunnar muttered. ‘At least you've a woman to warm your bed tonight. I'll be sleeping in the Great Chamber on the floor with nothing but the dogs.'

Trahern knocked him on the shoulder. ‘Don't worry, brother. If you kiss them sweetly, the right dog might snuggle up to you.'

Gunnar swore at him in the
Lochlannach
tongue, but his meaning was more than clear.

Morren started to walk up the stairs, but Trahern shadowed her. Though it seemed that she was less angry with him, he didn't know what else to say to her. He tried to think up arguments that would make sense to her, rational ways of explaining why they should not be intimate with each other.

But every last word fled his brain when he saw her stand on the far side of the room, removing her gown. She moved slowly, peeling off the damp wool and lifting it away. The
léine
underdress was next to go, baring her long legs and taut bottom.

His mouth went dry when he saw her naked. She ran her hands through her long golden hair, squeezing water from the ends. And when she turned to face him, the damp locks framed her tight nipples.

Sweet Jesu. Was she trying to kill him, then?

Yes. Yes, she was. With slow, sure steps, she walked to wards the bed and got beneath the coverlet. Trahern gritted his teeth and removed his own wet clothing, laying it out to dry. His teeth chattered as he slid into the bed beside her. The raw need to touch, to be with Morren, coursed through
him. His shaft was rigid with desire, his hands clenching the mattress.

Abruptly, she turned to face him. Though she huddled beneath the coverlet, she offered a faint smile. ‘That was fun.'

It had been, but he could think of more fun things they could be doing right now. He gave a nod. ‘It was.'

‘Patrick said it would be clear enough that we can leave tomorrow for Glen Omrigh.'

‘Yes.' He could hardly trust himself to speak more than a word or two. It was tormenting him, knowing that her smooth naked skin was just inches away from his touch.

‘I'm a little cold,' she said suddenly. Before he could say another word, she turned her back to him and nestled her bottom against his erection. She brought his arms around her, and his fingertips brushed against the curve of her breasts. ‘You don't mind keeping me warm, do you?'

He bit his tongue to keep from growling when she nudged her bottom higher, bringing his manhood against the seam of her legs. If she opened to him, it would be effortless to slide within her.

‘I know what you're doing,' he said. ‘It's not going to work.'

‘I don't know what you mean,' she said. ‘You yourself said that there was nothing wrong with giving each other pleasure in other ways.' Her hand reached around, her fingers closing around his heated length.

With one firm stroke, she took apart all the reasons for not touching her. He forced her to turn, and took her mouth. Her leg lifted around his hip, in wordless invitation. The kiss drowned out his protests, the warmth of her skin pushing away all thoughts of self-control.

He needed her, this woman who had become such a part of his life. Tonight, when she'd thrown snowballs at him, he'd forgotten about their disagreements. He'd seen only the
breathtaking woman, with the infectious smile. The woman who meant everything to him. The woman he loved.

‘I'm sorry,' Morren whispered, breaking the kiss. ‘I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.' She reached down to touch him again, and he couldn't stop the groan that escaped him. ‘If you'd rather just…touch each other, I suppose that's all right.' Her mouth moved to his throat, kissing the skin while her hand moved in rhythm upon his erection.

Though the pleasure coursing through him was undeniable, he wanted her to feel the same. He reached around to the hooded fold of her womanhood, stoking the fire of her own release. Her breathing grew heavier, and her hand moved faster upon him. Trahern shuddered, and when she suddenly arched against him, her body breaking free with racking tremors, his own seed came spurting forth.

He held her afterwards, his heart pounding. She was right. It wasn't the same at all.

The uncertainty and feeling of loneliness overshadowed the satisfying release. There was something more fulfilling about being inside her, feeling her legs tangled up in his.

But God help him, how could he risk her life? He couldn't, plain and simple. To join with her was a selfish act, and he refused to endanger her in any way.

No matter how much he wanted her.

 

It took over a fortnight to reach Glen Omrigh. Storms and the winter cold made travelling nearly impossible, and they'd had to stop numerous times with neighbouring clans.

Morren had braved the journey as best she could, but in the past few days, she'd worried about Jilleen to the point where the mere thought of home made her physically nauseous. Her stomach lurched, and she picked at her food, terrified of what could have happened to her sister.

They approached the
cashel
, and Morren was gratified to see that the fields had been ploughed and prepared for planting
next spring. If they could get enough grain, they might be able to slowly build back their supplies.

Once they arrived within Glen Omrigh, she saw that the
cashel
was completely rebuilt. The comforting smoke of peat fires rose from the stone cottages with freshly thatched roofs. The palisade wall was built of stone, and she saw the familiar faces of friends waiting.

Her mouth was sour with fear, but Trahern rode alongside her. His presence brought her comfort in the midst of her inner turmoil. Though not once had he made love to her since their time at Laochre, he'd slept with her in his arms. It was something, though not at all what she'd wanted. She prayed that time would wear down his resolve.

When they reached the interior, she found Jilleen outside, talking with a group of girls. As soon as her sister caught sight of them, she raced forward, her face beaming with excitement.

Morren dismounted and caught Jilleen in her arms. She wanted to cry, so grateful was she, to see her sister unharmed. ‘I'm glad to see you.'

Behind them, she saw Gunnar and Trahern. Both stood observing the
cashel
, their faces guarded. ‘Where is Katla?' she asked Jilleen.

‘She's inside with Hoskuld. I was helping her make soup, just now.' Jilleen added, ‘Do you and…the others…want to come inside?' She glanced over at Trahern and Gunnar, her face curious.

Morren motioned to the two men, and she admitted, ‘Trahern is my husband now.'

A delighted smile spread over her sister's face. ‘I'm so happy for you. I had hoped that he might take care of you.'

Jilleen took Morren's hand and led her inside. Trahern and Gunnar followed, and once they were inside, the meaty scent of mutton stew filled the small hut. Though it should
have been enticing, the heavy odour made Morren feel even more sick.

‘Why, Morren!' Katla exclaimed, wiping her hands upon her apron. ‘I never thought to see you so soon. Come in, come in!'

The woman's warm welcome didn't appear false, and she shut the door behind Gunnar and Trahern. ‘Hoskuld is visiting with Dagmar this morn, but he should return soon. Sit, all of you, and you can have some of this stew. I've enough for everyone, thankfully.'

Trahern exchanged a glance with Gunnar and withdrew a pouch at his waist. ‘We came to speak with you about this.' He poured a small handful of the foreign coins into his palm, showing them to Katla.

The woman's face faltered, and she paled as she set bowls before them. ‘I've never seen coins like that before.'

Her tone was too hurried, but her eyes spoke of guilt. Morren left her bowl of stew untouched.

Jilleen stared at Katla. ‘Those are the coins we found in the
souterrain
, used to pay the raiders.'

Katla moved back to the pot of stew, stirring it, though it likely needed none of her attentions.

‘He knew your name,' Morren said softly. ‘Egill Hardrata spoke of you.'

Katla didn't move. The spoon clattered against the iron edge of the pot, and she didn't face them.

‘Why, damn you?' Gunnar demanded, striding forward and grasping her arm. ‘Tell me why he would know your name!'

‘What would you have me say?' she whispered. Katla's head turned back, and tears streamed down her face.

‘You hired them to destroy the Ó Reilly tribe. Isn't that right?' Trahern stood and walked towards her, using his height to intimidate her. ‘Their homes burned, lives lost. The woman I intended to marry was killed. Because of you.'

Katla covered her face, sobbing now. ‘I never wanted this to happen.'

‘Then what did you intend?' Trahern's face was stony, his tone unforgiving.

‘They acted of their own accord. I never hired them for that,' she insisted.

Her hysteria was so strong, Morren almost believed her. She tried a different tack. ‘How would you have even met those men?' she asked. ‘They live so far away.'

‘They came here to trade last spring,' Katla said, her voice breaking on a sob.

‘Did Dagmar—?' Trahern began, but Morren cut him off.

‘No.' She stared at Trahern, shaking her head. ‘Let her finish.'

An unexpected memory came to her, one she'd put aside for so many months. ‘You had a daughter, didn't you? She was about Jilleen's age?'

Katla's face tightened into sobbing. She nodded once, then buried her face in her hands.

‘Our chief spoke with her a time or two,' Morren remembered. ‘I remember when a few of you came to see us. He seemed fond of her.' Understanding pushed past her own fury, for she realised what Katla had done.

‘Our chief was too old for her, wasn't he?' Morren whispered. ‘He gave her more attention than he should.'

‘He hurt her,' Katla wept. ‘My daughter, who had never done anything wrong. She was just back from fostering, and we'd had so little time together. That bastard took her innocence, and he threatened to kill her if she ever told anyone. But she did. She told me, her mother, knowing that I would make it right.'

Katla's hands clenched into fists. ‘I found her body lying in the field a few days later. And I swore I would kill him for what he did to my child.' Her eyes glittered with wildness, and
Morren reached for Trahern's hand. His steady palm granted her comfort.

‘After Dagmar met with the raiders, I came to them in secret with coins I took from my grandfather's hoard. I begged them to kill the chief. I told them they would find the rest of the coins in the Ó Reilly
souterrain
when they completed their task.' Her sobs caught in her throat. ‘That way, they would have to go there. But I never thought they would kill innocent people. They acted of their own will, burning the homes and taking other lives.' She sat down, resting her head between her hands.

‘I thought about ending my own life, after I learned what they'd done. But then, who would look after Hoskuld and our other children?' She raised reddened eyes to look at each one of them. ‘All I can do is atone for it. I can't ever forgive myself. And I won't ask you to.'

Morren reached out for her sister, Jilleen, and hugged her tightly. Then she glanced at Trahern, whose face was unreadable.

‘I believe you,' he said at last. ‘It does not release you from your guilt, but I understand why.'

‘I don't want to be exiled,' Katla said. ‘But I always knew I would have to meet my punishment.'

Hoskuld returned at that moment. At the sight of her husband, Katla paled. Gunnar relayed the tale, explaining to his brother what had happened.

‘Why didn't you tell me any of this?' Hoskuld demanded. ‘You
knew
who had harmed her, and you didn't trust me to avenge our own daughter?'

‘I wanted to protect you,' she cried. ‘You might have started a war if you went after their chief. I believed I could escape notice and the raiders would take the blame if they ever found out.' She tried to throw herself into her husband's arms, but Hoskuld stood with his arms at his side, his anger palpable.

Morren looked up at Trahern, trying to sense his own reaction. There was uncertainty on his face.

‘What you did was wrong,' Trahern said to Katla finally. ‘And I want to speak to Gunnar and Hoskuld with the chief, before any decision is made.'

Morren studied Katla's reddened face. It was not the face of a murderer. She was a grieving mother, who'd wanted to avenge her daughter's death. And she would have to live with that guilt for the rest of her days.