Surrender to an Irish Warrior (23 page)

‘I believe her,' Morren said to Trahern. ‘It was the raiders' fault.' Morren said to Trahern. ‘The destruction they wrought was their decision, and they have paid for it with their lives. I don't believe Katla should suffer the same.'

Trahern gave a nod. Glancing at the other men, he said, ‘Send for Dagmar.'

 

When Dagmar arrived the following day, the chief listened to Katla's confession. A mixture of fury and embarrassment crossed his face. After several hours of deliberation, they made a quiet decision. Katla would be allowed to live, but she would dwell among the Ó Reillys, so that she would never forget what she'd done. They would tell no one of her involvement, so long as she paid restitution every day for the rest of her life.

‘You will work alongside them,' Dagmar pronounced. ‘You will dedicate yourself to rebuilding what was lost. And you may not return to live among us.' To Hoskuld, he added, ‘I hold you responsible for ensuring that your wife obeys.'

It was an exile, but not a death sentence. Trahern felt that the penalty was a fair one, and his respect for Dagmar increased. Though it still felt strange to think that these men were his kinsmen, his former antipathy had lessened.

After he and Gunnar left the chief's dwelling, his brother turned to him. ‘The Ó Reillys need a new leader. Have you thought about joining them as their chief?'

He stared at his brother. ‘I'm not an Ó Reilly.'

‘No, but we are merging many of the Dalrata with them. A man who can call himself both Irish and
Lochlannach
would be a strong representative. Unless you think yourself unable to lead?'

Gunnar's goading challenge wasn't lost on him. Trahern had never considered leading a clan of his own, for he'd always thought of himself as a MacEgan. But he was also Dalrata, by birth. It was strange, to realise that he had two families now. He was possibly the only man who could bridge the two sides, bringing them together.

‘If the Dalrata and the Ó Reillys can accept me, I'll stay.' Though he wasn't certain he wanted the responsibility of becoming the new chief, he didn't doubt that he could lead the people, if they chose him.

‘Will you tell Hoskuld that we're brothers?' Trahern asked. He hadn't spoken a word of his heritage to the man, not knowing how it would be received.

Gunnar nodded. ‘He'll want to know. It might give him some consolation, after all that Katla has done.'

It was time to lay bare the truth. When Trahern faced Gunnar, eye to eye, he saw the image of himself. But this time, it no longer bothered him. Instead, he found acceptance in his blood family. ‘Brothers should stand together,' he said at last.

‘They should.' Gunnar gripped Trahern's forearm in support. With a nod towards Morren, he added, ‘And I think it would please your wife, knowing she can remain here with her sister.'

Apprehensive thoughts clouded Trahern's mind, for his marriage had weakened over the past few weeks. The celibacy was beginning to wear down on both of them. Though he'd slept with Morren, occasionally touching her, there was an emptiness that cast its shadow.

‘I'll see what Morren thinks.' He released his brother's
hand, walking alongside him. ‘What about you? Where will you go?'

Gunnar flashed him a wicked grin. ‘I'll build a hut of my own here and fill it with beautiful women.' His brother gave him a slight shove. ‘And speaking of women, I think you should tend to your own.'

Morren had been walking towards them when she stopped and rested her hand on one of the huts, her face blanching. In seconds, Trahern was at her side. ‘What is it,
a stór
?'

She rested her hands over her midsection. ‘It hurts, Trahern.' Pale and terrified, she stared into his eyes. ‘Like before.' Abruptly, she doubled over, in such pain, her meaning suddenly crystallised.

‘When did you have your last woman's flow?' he demanded.
Oh Jesu, please, not this. Not again.

She shook her head. ‘I haven't. Not since before our handfasting.'

And he knew. God help him, she was carrying his child. Possibly she might lose the babe, if he didn't do something to help her.

No words could express the fear he felt right now.

T
rahern lifted her into his arms, taking long strides to the nearest hut. Morren struggled against the cramping pain, and she voiced silent prayers for the life of their child.

Be well
, she pleaded.
Don't leave us.

Trahern set her down upon a pallet, and once she laid down, some of the pain started to clear. She kept her knees raised, and took a steadying breath. It was better, a little more bearable. And it didn't seem that she'd been bleeding.

Her husband, however, looked as though he were going to faint. His dark hair had filled in, along with the traces of a beard. Like a fierce angel, he watched over her.

‘It's not so bad now,' she admitted. ‘The pain caught me without any warning.'

‘How long have you known?' His voice sounded leaden, as though he expected her to die.

‘I didn't know, truly. I've only missed one flow, and that can happen.' She reached out for his hand, needing his touch. ‘But it's a blessing I could only dream of.'

‘I am never touching you again,' he swore. ‘This is my fault.'

He looked so serious, she realised he meant it. ‘Trahern, this is everything I wanted. To bear a child for the man I—' She broke off, her face reddening. They had endured so much together. He'd been at her side, during the most heart-wrenching moments and in the better times. She couldn't imagine being with anyone else.

‘For the man I love,' she finished.

Trahern sat down beside her, taking her hand. ‘Morren, I would give anything to spare you this pain.' The fear upon his face made it clear that he did care about her.

She eased to a seated position, leaning against him. ‘I know you would. But if it's true, that I have a second chance at being a mother, I want it.'

He moved beside her, supporting her in his arms. In his eyes, she saw the fear of losing her. She ventured a smile. ‘You gave me this precious gift, Trahern. I'm grateful for it.'

He held her so tightly, as though she would disappear from his embrace. ‘No matter what happens, I won't leave you.' His hand stroked her shoulder, his mouth brushing against her temple. ‘I'll never leave you, even if the worst happens again. I love you, Morren.'

She drew back, her blue eyes meeting his. The fear of losing this child was a bond they shared, but she held fast to hope.

‘I'm going to be all right, Trahern. I believe that.' The cramping was no longer the same as her earlier miscarriage. This was more like the onset of her monthly discomfort.

‘I pray you're right.' He kept her in his arms, holding her near. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you? Summon the healer, perhaps?'

She shook her head. ‘The only thing I want right now is to have our marriage back the way it was. I won't live like this any more. It's hurting both of us.'

The truth was, she could see the strain it wrought upon him, trying to stay away from her. Each night in his arms, she
could feel his desire, and she sensed his pain. She knew why he was withholding himself, and it bothered her, knowing she was the cause.

He remained silent, and she pressed further, touching her forehead to his. ‘I need you. Not just in spirit, but also in body.'

Trahern's face was haggard, torn with the need to touch her and the conflicting need to keep her safe. She raised her mouth to his, kissing him. ‘I love you, Trahern. And I know you'll take care of both of us.'

‘You mean everything to me.' He kissed her as though he were afraid she'd shatter in his arms. As though he loved her with every part of himself.

And it was enough.

 

The seasons passed, winter turning into spring. As the seedlings began to rise from the fertile ground, so too did Morren blossom. Trahern watched over her with a vigilance that never failed. Her rounded stomach grew with each month, and somehow, she held on to the babe she wanted so badly.

He hardly slept any more, the worry building up inside of him. Later that summer, he sent for Aileen, Connor's wife. If anyone could help Morren survive the birth, it was she.

‘You look terrible,' Connor remarked, grimacing at the sight. ‘Has it been that bad, being chieftain of the Ó Reillys?'

‘It's not as difficult as I thought it would be.' He'd accepted his new place without much thought. The Ó Reilly survivors and several of the Dalrata Vikings had merged together, forming a new clan that was a blend of traditions. ‘Hoskuld and Gunnar have helped.' He'd found that his new brothers had no lack of advice to share, and they frequently offered their opinions—whether he'd wanted them or not.

Trahern hid a smile at the thought.

‘Did you have enough supplies to endure the winter?' Connor asked.

‘We did.' Trahern pointed toward a section of the fields. ‘We found a hoard of coins buried there, a fortnight ago.' He walked alongside his brother to the
cashel
entrance. ‘It seems that the former Ó Reilly chief was the cause of all the unrest with St Michael's Abbey. He was collecting tithes from his kinsmen, blaming the abbot for greed, when he was the one stealing from his own people.'

Trahern grimaced and shook his head in disgust, ‘He told the abbot that the Dalrata people stole the tithes.'

‘Leaving him free to take everything,' Connor predicted.

‘Aye. But at least we found the coins. We were able to buy more grain, and it made it easier to rebuild.' They entered the gates, and the familiar sounds of activity surrounded them. ‘It's like taking care of a large family,' Trahern admitted. ‘Handling disputes and ensuring that everyone has what they need.'

‘Like being a father,' Connor suggested, a slight hint of amusement on his face. ‘And I believe you'll be a good one.'

Trahern had tried not to think of the child. For now, he merely wanted his wife to survive the birth. ‘How do you stand it?' he asked suddenly. ‘I think about Morren giving birth, and I'd cut off my arm to take the pain away from her.'

‘I won't lie to you,' Connor said, ‘there's nothing in the world that makes me more tense than watching Aileen in labour. You think of all the things that could happen to them. And somehow, when you hold your child in your arms, you forget about all else.' A soft smile crossed his brother's face. ‘It's like holding a piece of the love you share. You see yourself and her in the child's face.'

Connor clapped him on the back, but there was no denying
the emotion on his face. ‘You'll survive it, brother. Only a few hours longer.'

‘A few hours?' He stared hard at Connor, not knowing what he meant.

‘Aye. Usually the first takes a bit longer, but—'

‘She's going to give birth
today
? Why in the name of Belenus didn't anyone say anything to me?' He wanted to knock the knowing grin right off Connor's face.

‘Perhaps because you'd overreact? Didn't you notice that Aileen hasn't left Morren's side today?'

‘She was talking with her and grinding medicines,' he argued. ‘Neither of them said anything about the babe coming.'

He broke away from Connor, running towards the hut he shared with Morren.

She was sitting up, her face tight as she breathed slowly. ‘That's it,' Aileen soothed.

When Morren opened her eyes, she sent him a slight smile. ‘Hello, Trahern.'

‘Were you planning to tell me,' he demanded, ‘or were you going to simply suffer in silence?'

‘I wouldn't say that the last pain was particularly silent,' she admitted. ‘But I didn't want you to be afraid. It's going well, actually.'

He glared at Aileen, who shrugged. ‘She's right. I would say that the babe will be here by this evening—' She was interrupted when Morren closed her eyes again, her palms digging into the coverlet. Her breathing quickened, and he didn't miss the pain upon her face.

‘Connor,' Aileen said, ‘take Trahern away.'

‘I'm not going anywhere.' He moved to rub his wife's shoulders, trying to offer comfort.

‘Don't touch me!' Morren snapped.

In spite of herself, Aileen laughed. ‘Don't take it personally,
Trahern, but when you're about to give birth, the last thing you want is a man touching you.'

‘I'm sorry,' Morren apologised. But a wave of pain passed over her, and she squeezed his hand so tightly, he thought she might crack his fingers in half.

‘I won't do this to you again,
a mhuirnín
,' he promised. ‘You have my word, you'll never have to suffer this pain any more.'

When she opened her eyes again, she sent him a furious glare. ‘If I bear a healthy child, so help me, you will not withhold yourself from me again. You will share my bed whenever I want you to.'

Connor and Aileen were laughing at him, and he sent them a blistering look. ‘Morren, I don't think—'

Another pain washed over her, and she swore at him. ‘Aye, this was your fault, and when I've recovered from it, I am going to have my way with you. Stop being such a saint, and be a damned husband!' Her last words rose up with another pain, and Aileen went to examine her.

‘It's not going to be as long as we thought,' the healer said. ‘Trahern, help to support her.'

 

The next few hours were the worst he'd ever endured. When Morren pushed, crying out, he told her how much he loved her. With each wrenching pain, he relived those moments when he'd delivered her stillborn son. He remembered how badly she'd bled, and how he'd held her all night, telling her stories.

He whispered the story of Lugh once again, and of Dagda. The tales flowed through him, as he fought with her for this fragile newborn life.

And when Morren gave birth to their son, there were no words at all. Only the most all-encompassing joy he'd ever
known. Aileen placed the newborn child upon Morren's bare stomach, and he marvelled at the tiny perfection.

‘He's wonderful,' Morren wept. ‘And he's ours.' Happiness filled her up, and he touched the child's downy head, his fingers brushing against hers.

Thankfulness replaced the fear in his heart. As he kissed Morren softly, he marvelled that any man could be this happy.

 

The harvest came, and autumn darkened the foliage across the land. Morren walked up the forest hillside, back to the hunter's cottage. Trahern took their son Iain into his arms, when she arrived at the small earthen mound that he'd covered with stones. She'd planted heather upon the earth, and the flowers had bloomed throughout the summer.

Kneeling beside the small grave, she voiced a prayer for her lost child. For long moments, she thought of him, wondering if he would have been like young Iain. Would his eyes have been the same quiet grey, his mouth as soft as a rosebud?

Bittersweet tears filled her eyes as she rose to her feet. ‘I miss him, though I never knew him.'

‘He led me to you,' Trahern said, pulling her into his arms. ‘The greatest gift he could have given.'

With a sleeping Iain between them, she kissed him, and his mouth covered hers with the intensity of a man who loved her more than life.

‘Let's go inside,' she said. ‘Iain can sleep, and I'm going to show you how much I love you.' She opened the door for him, and waited while he arranged a place for the babe. When he turned around, she let her overdress and
léine
fall to the floor, opening her arms to him.

Trahern closed the distance, removing his own clothing. Skin to skin, he held her, pulling her onto the bed. Without
words his hands spoke of all his feelings, telling her how much he loved her.

And when their bodies joined at last, she gave a breathless sigh. ‘I love you, Trahern.'

He moved slowly within her, as if in reverence. ‘You're mine, Morren. As I am yours, for now and always.'

She took his face between her palms, her heart spilling over for this man.

‘Always,' she promised.