Surrender to an Irish Warrior (9 page)

Adham sent her a wary look, as though he didn't want her alone with Trahern. She didn't yield, but sent him a steady gaze.

In the end, he lowered his head in farewell. ‘Perhaps later we can talk.'

‘Perhaps.' But she gave no commitment. Right now she couldn't unravel the tangled thoughts inside. Trahern was still holding her hand, and even after Adham left, he didn't let go.

She wasn't sure she wanted him to.

Nonetheless, Trahern handed her the scythe again and picked up the bundle. ‘Did you want to speak to him?'

‘Not really.' She started walking back to the
cashel
, not meeting his gaze. ‘I know I shouldn't be angry with him, but I am. If he'd truly cared about me—'

‘Nothing would have stopped him from reaching your side.'

She lifted her eyes to Trahern's. The fierce intensity made her flush. For a moment, it was as if he were speaking of himself. And though they were virtual strangers to one another,
she sensed that Trahern was a man of strong passion. A man who would love a woman with every breath in his body.

She caught the hint of pain beneath his words, the memory of Ciara. No doubt if he'd been there that night, he'd have protected his betrothed with his life.

Morren ached for his loss, and wished she had the words to say it. In the end, she touched her fingertips to his face before leaving him.

 

When they reached the interior of the
cashel
, Morren could smell a rich stew bubbling on one of the outdoor fires. Her stomach was roaring with hunger, and it was all she could do not to run towards the food.

Two of the huts were now completed, with a third begun. At this pace, the
cashel
would be rebuilt within another week or two. Morren replaced the scythes they'd borrowed and nearly bumped into Gunnar.

He eyed the pair of them, but Morren didn't quite understand the look he flashed at Trahern. ‘You've been busy.'

‘We managed to save some of the grain,' she explained.

‘Good.' Gunnar pointed towards one of the newer huts. ‘We're using that shelter for tools and food. The women will sleep there, and the men in the hut we just finished.'

Trahern went to place the bundle inside the hut Gunnar had designated. Even though he left her for only a brief moment, she noticed that he kept glancing back at her.

Ever vigilant, she had no doubt that Trahern would never let anything happen to her. Today, he'd let down his guard, showing her traces of the man she'd once known. The afternoon they'd spent together, though tiring, was one she'd remember. It felt good to be useful, to bring back an offering that would help her people.

And somehow, when she was around Trahern, she managed to find a part of herself she'd lost. He made her forget the darkness.

But how long would he stay?

‘Your sister is with Katla,' Gunnar was saying, as Trahern returned to them. ‘They're preparing for the meal tonight.'

Morren didn't understand why her sister had abandoned the fields, to work among strangers, but at least she hadn't been alone. ‘I'll join her and help. I understand we're not returning to the
longphort
tonight?'

‘No,' Gunnar said. ‘It will be crowded, but Dagmar wants us to spend the night here and continue working in the morning.'

‘Why not travel to the abbey?' she suggested. ‘It's not a far ride, and they have more space.'

Gunnar's smile grew strained. ‘We're not friends with the brethren. The abbot believes we should be granting more of our land to the Church.' With a grimace, Gunnar added, ‘It isn't enough that they've claimed a large portion of the Ó Reilly lands.'

Morren wondered if there had been animosity between her people and the abbot. It would explain why they were reluctant to stay at St Michael's, though their chieftain had never spoken of any disagreements between them.

Could the abbot have had anything to do with the attack? She found it difficult to believe that a man of the church would do such a thing. Brother Chrysoganus had made her feel welcome at the abbey.

But if her people were dead, the church could lay claim to the land. So could the
Lochlannach
, for that matter.

Trahern seemed to share her thoughts, for he addressed Gunnar. ‘Haven't you done the same, claiming Ó Reilly land in exchange for your labour?'

‘Some of our men are wed to Ó Reilly women. It's not the same at all. The land will be shared between us.'

‘Will it?' Trahern's tone grew cold. ‘Or will you take what rightfully belonged to them?'

He didn't wait for a reply, but strode off to a group of ruined
huts. Morren didn't follow at first, but turned to Gunnar. ‘He's restless,' she apologised.

‘Frustrated, I suspect.' Gunnar sent her a teasing smile, and Morren suddenly caught his innuendo.

‘No. That isn't it.' She glanced back at him, before confiding, ‘His betrothed wife was killed by the raiders. He's angry about it.'

The smile faded from Gunnar's face. ‘I didn't know.'

Morren rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling the cold. ‘I need to speak with him.' Trahern's anger went deeper than an argument over land. And she wanted to know why.

Gunnar murmured a farewell, adding, ‘You could do much to console him, Morren. A woman with your beauty would make any man forget his sorrow.' With a nod, he turned away.

She eyed Trahern, standing alone by the palisade wall like an outsider. The wind whipped across the
cashel
, cold and biting. A low fog had descended over the land, encircling the walls so that she could hardly see the abbey on the hillside. Light flakes of snow swirled in the air, and when she reached his side, Morren adjusted the cloak over his shoulders to shield him from the wind.

Trahern muttered his thanks beneath his breath. A melancholy mood had settled over him. She studied his grey eyes, and asked, ‘What is it?'

He shook his head. ‘I shouldn't stay here through the winter, as I'd planned. Rebuilding this
cashel
, living amongst the
Lochlannach
…it feels like I'm forgetting my purpose.'

She could see that the bitterness was eroding his heart, taking away the man he'd been. ‘And what is your purpose? Vengeance?'

He gave a nod. ‘I'm losing time. I need to find them.'

His restlessness was rigid in his posture. Morren didn't know what to say, but she understood his frustration. ‘I want you to find them, too.'

She moved to his side, and her fingers inadvertently touched his. She expected him to pull away, but he didn't. ‘But I fear, even if you do find the men who attacked that night, it won't bring you the peace you're seeking.'

‘Vengeance is all I need.'

‘I don't believe that.'

His hand curled over hers, and a pained expression came over his face. ‘Don't try to save me, Morren. It's already too late.'

T
rahern didn't move, though he should have. Right now, he despised himself for being so aware of Morren. Her dark golden hair hung against her face, her blue eyes filled with uncertainty. She deserved his trust and protection, not the unholy thoughts coursing through his undisciplined brain. Somehow, she'd kindled feelings that he'd thought were dead, long ago.

Nothing in the world could have been more wrong. He needed to get away from her, to get out of this place. With every moment he spent at her side, his vengeance was becoming less about Ciara and more about Morren.

God above, what was the matter with him? He pulled his hand free of hers, furious with himself. Though he would never hurt her, right now, he didn't understand the strange pull between them.

‘Are you hoping to die,' she asked, ‘after you've faced your enemy?'

He didn't answer. The truth was, he didn't know. Living each day was a torment in itself. Being here, around Ciara's
kinsmen, dredged up older memories that he didn't want to face.

Morren reached out and quietly touched his shoulder. Her blue eyes met his with iron determination. ‘You're strong enough to overcome your grief over what happened. Just as I am.'

His hand dug into the wooden palisade wall so hard, splinters pierced his flesh. She'd seen past his fury to the aching centre of pain in his heart. And with a light touch, she brushed her fingers against his shaved head, then down his bare cheeks, in a reminder that he couldn't strip the last part of himself away.

He caught her hand in his, meaning to push her away. But the warmth of her palm seemed to ease the chill in his skin. He clung to her fingers, not knowing why.

Abruptly, she pulled back. ‘I should go.'

Before he could blink, she'd fled his side, and he was left standing like a fool.

What in the name of Belenus had just happened? He watched her from the doorway, walking apart from the others. She glanced over at her sister, but made no move to join Jilleen.

Gunnar's words came back to prod him.
‘You should do more than take care of her.'

But there was nothing between them. Trahern took several steadying breaths, gathering up his resolve. He'd speak to the other Vikings and find out what he could.

He spied Morren ahead, leaning her hand against the stone wall they'd been repairing earlier. Her face had gone pale, and she remained frozen in place. Was she in pain? Had the bleeding begun again?

But then he saw the cause of her anguish. Seated near one of the outdoor hearths was a young woman, an Ó Reilly who had wed one of the Dalrata men. Her husband stood beside her, and in her arms the woman cradled an infant.

Morren never took her gaze from them, and Trahern released a curse. The raw pain in her eyes was unmistakable, as if she knew she would never again bear a child of her own. He wanted to offer her comfort, the hope that perhaps one day she would.

If he had half a brain, he'd speak to Adham and get the man's promise to look after her. But the thought of any man getting close to Morren made him want to snarl.

She's not yours
, he reminded himself.
She needs someone else to take care of her.

As if in response to his thoughts, Morren looked back at him, seeming to draw strength. The rest of the people seemed to fade into the background, and he looked past her fears and pain. Aye, she was hurting. But beneath it all, there was still hope.

Trahern crossed the
cashel
, no longer caring that it was growing dark. He needed her to understand that her life wasn't over. And an idea came to him, something that would make her feel better.

‘Walk with me,' he commanded, extending his hand.

Morren sent him a confused look, but placed her palm in his. ‘What is it?'

He led her back outside, taking a torch from one of the iron sconces. ‘You'll see.'

She followed him, back to the fields where they had worked together. Although the vast majority of the earth was blackened from fire, the small section where they had cut away the ruin could be ploughed under in the spring.

‘Why did you bring me here?'

His fingers remained laced within hers, trying to offer her reassurance. ‘I saw you looking at the babe.'

She gave a slight nod, her face reddened against the glow of the torch. ‘I shouldn't have. It only makes it harder to endure.'

‘I wish I could have saved your child,' he said.

‘It wasn't meant to be.' Her shoulders lowered, but he wouldn't allow her to pull her hand away. Not yet.

‘There may be other children for you, one day,' he offered, squeezing her fingertips. ‘Your life isn't over, Morren, because of that night.'

‘No man here would want me. Not after what happened.' A tired smile crossed her face. ‘You're the only one who knows the truth. Even if it weren't for Ciara, admit it—you wouldn't want a woman who was used like that.'

He lifted his hand to her cheek, warming it. ‘You're wrong.'

The words came forth, intending to reassure her. But it startled him to realise that it wasn't a lie. Something about Morren Ó Reilly had slipped past his shielded anger.

Her fair hair gleamed in the firelight, her lips slightly parted. He wondered what it would be like to kiss a woman like her, to satisfy the human need to touch.

Gods, it had been so long since he'd embraced a woman, and despite the protests rising in his brain, his body began to respond. He wanted to jerk his hand away, but if he did, she would misinterpret the reason.

He saw the uncertainty on her face, the way she blamed herself. ‘You're not to blame for what they did.'

She shook her head. ‘Yes, I am.'

‘How can you say that?'

‘Because it was my choice.' She stepped back from him, tightening her arms around her waist. ‘I told the men that I wouldn't fight them. That they could do as they wished to me.'

Trahern felt as though a barrel of ice water had been poured over him. He couldn't believe the words she'd spoken. But the calm serenity on her face revealed the truth of Morren's words. And suddenly, he understood why.

‘It was for her, wasn't it? They were going to hurt your sister.'

‘I took her place so Jilleen could escape,' Morren admitted. ‘By the time they'd finished with me, they'd forgotten about her.' A brittle strength tightened in her face. ‘I don't regret my choice.'

He didn't know what to say. Her bravery and sacrifice were greater than anything he'd ever heard of. Few women would do such a thing, surrendering their virtue for a loved one.

His silence made her turn away. ‘And now you understand.'

‘I do.' But he wouldn't let her denigrate herself any more. ‘And I still don't blame you for it.' He pointed out to the fields, lifting the torch higher to reveal the remaining grain that stood undamaged, amid the ashes. ‘Sometimes that which has been ruined can be rebuilt. And new life can emerge.'

When she turned back to him, he saw the tears on her face. ‘I want to forget what happened to me.'

He looked into her eyes, trying to offer comfort. ‘You will.'

The look in her eyes said she didn't really believe it. With one hand, he wiped the tears away, sliding his fingers into her hair. He lowered his forehead to hers, and in the silence he could hear her breathing.

The warmth of her skin against his own seemed to push away his common sense. He acted on instinct, and seconds later, his mouth brushed against hers in an unexpected kiss.

Light, unthreatening, he'd done it without thinking. It was meant to comfort her, nothing more. But the soft warmth of her mouth had evoked an unexpected connection with her. For a single, frozen moment, she'd filled up the emptiness.

Morren pulled away from him, her face pale.

‘I'm sorry,' he said. Without another word, he took her hand and began leading her back to the
cashel
with the others. Inside, his mind was roaring with self-condemnation. She'd given him her worst secret of all, and he'd undermined that trust by forcing a kiss she hadn't wanted.

It was tempting to go and bash his own head against a wall. Fool. Idiot. He should leave right now, before he did anything worse.

As she joined her sister at the fire, he kept himself apart, granting her space. She sat beside Jilleen, hardly touching the stew Katla gave her.

She didn't meet his eyes, and he hung back, not knowing what to say or do. It took the greatest restraint he possessed, to remain seated when Adham Ó Reilly approached her.

 

‘May I sit with you?' Adham asked.

Morren hesitated, but could see no reason why she shouldn't speak to him. He'd done nothing wrong. With a quick glance over at Trahern, she saw that he was no longer watching her. Her cheeks warmed, and she nodded to Adham. ‘If you like.'

Right now, she needed a distraction. Anything to take her mind off the stolen kiss. It had happened so quickly, she was certain Trahern had done it without thinking. It was a gesture meant to comfort, the same as the embrace a friend would offer.

But something had changed between them. The kiss, as light as a snowflake, had melted into her skin. Her lips felt warm, even now, remembering the brush of Trahern's mouth upon hers. Undemanding, as though she were a woman to be savoured.

He'd awakened feelings that had lain dormant for so long; she hadn't realised she was still capable of feeling the faint stirrings of desire.

A part of her wanted to cry right now. She hadn't believed Trahern when he'd said her life wasn't over because of that night. For so long, she'd felt the chains of her shame weighing her down. He knew everything now, her most ragged secrets bared before him.

And yet, he'd understood why she'd protected Jilleen. It was something she'd never expected.

Morren wrenched her attention back to Adham, who had chosen a seat beside her. He held an empty bowl that had once contained stew, and it appeared he was rehearsing his speech, trying to decide what to say.

Finally, he admitted, ‘MacEgan was right. I should have searched for you.'

I'm glad you didn't
, she thought to herself. She didn't want anyone to know about her pregnancy or what she'd endured.

Instead, she replied, ‘It's all right. I'm here now, and the past will stay forgotten.'

He looked relieved and set the bowl down on the ground. ‘Good. I was hoping…that you would stay here with us while we rebuild.'

His eyes lingered upon her, and his intentions were clear. Morren fought the urge to shudder. The question irritated her, for where else could she go? Either here, with her kinsmen, or she could possibly go back with Jilleen to the Moriartys, where her sister was fostered. The idea of becoming a burden on another clan didn't appeal to her.

And Trahern was going to leave, soon enough.

She risked a glance back at him. There was a tension in his body, as though he wanted to come over and drag Adham away, yet he didn't move.

He was the one who'd wanted her to begin anew. No doubt Adham was a reliable man, one who would ensure that she had everything she needed. But if he learned anything about her past, he'd be appalled. He wouldn't understand the reasons for what she'd done, whereas Trahern didn't blame her at all. He knew everything, and he hadn't turned away from her. That was the difference. Being here with Adham felt like a lie, and the longer she endured his company, the worse she felt.

The women had begun to clear away the evening meal, and Morren bid Adham goodnight, excusing herself to work
alongside Katla and Jilleen. She lingered among them, falling into their shadow. But she was aware of Trahern's presence and the way he kept a close watch over her.

When she followed the women back to one of the completed shelters, she saw Trahern leave his place by the fire. The men went to the other hut, speaking of their plans to start repairing a third shelter in the morning.

He started to walk towards her, but stopped short. For a brief moment, he met her gaze. She wanted to follow the women, to hide from his notice.

Instead, he approached her, keeping a safe distance away. ‘I'm sorry for what I did earlier. I never meant—'

‘It's all right.' She didn't want to hear regrets, nor excuses for why he'd kissed her.

‘It wasn't all right.' His grey eyes darkened with remorse. ‘And I want you to know, it won't happen again.'

The frost in his tone was bitter, like the night air. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply nodded. An unexpected bleakness filled up inside her. Though days ago he'd been a stranger to her, there was now a bond between them of shared grief.

‘I know…it's difficult for you to be here,' she murmured. ‘Remembering Ciara.' She looked into his eyes, hoping he would understand the regret she held in her heart.

When he turned away, she couldn't stop the tear that slid from her eye.

 

Morren was crying again. Jilleen wondered if her sister even knew that it happened every night. Or at least, it had for the past few months. Though Morren was curled up on her side, her cheeks were stained with wetness, her arms clenched around her waist.

Would she have been like this? Jilleen wondered. If her sister's fate had happened to her, would she suffer such grief, night after night?

The guilt crossed over her like a dark shadow.

My fault
, she thought. None of it would have happened to Morren, if Jilleen had managed to escape her captors.

That night, flames had soared into the night sky, tearing down the huts. The choking scent of smoke and death surrounded the place. And the screams of the dying had drowned out her own cries for help.

But Morren had heard her. Weaponless and unprotected, she'd faced the men and made the ultimate sacrifice. Because of Morren's choice, Jilleen had escaped unharmed.