Wild Angel (40 page)

"What in blazes . . . ?"

"I brought her to meet Niall because I didn’t know
what else to do,"
came
Triona’s hasty explanation.
"I thought if he could see that it wasn’t right to hold a grudge against
Caitlin—even after what he’s suffered, mayhap he could influence you to think
so, too. But I’d planned to have her back at her cell before you and Niall
talked, so I ran inside the house to tell Caitlin to hide until you were gone.
It never occurred to me that you might have already been to the grain house—"

"And you would have assisted in this ruse?"
Ronan demanded of Niall, who was smiling reassuringly at Caitlin. Noting the heightened
color of the young woman’s cheeks and the furtive smile she threw back at
Niall, Ronan didn’t need to see more.

"That will be enough influencing for one day,"
he muttered, lunging for Caitlin and catching her by the arm. As she gasped,
Niall exploded.

"Good God, Ronan, you don’t have to be so rough!"

"And you’d do well to remember where your
allegiance lies," he countered harshly, pulling Caitlin to the front door.
"We’ll talk of this later, Niall O’Byrne."

"Wait, Ronan, it’s pouring out there!" Triona
objected, running into Niall’s room and snatching up Caitlin’s cloak. But Ronan
didn’t wait for her, dragging his hostage into the rain. Triona could do no
more than cast an anxious glance at Niall before she dashed outside.

"Where are you taking her?" she demanded,
doing her best to fling the cloak around Caitlin’s hunched shoulders as Ronan
wrenched the sobbing girl along with him.

"Our dwelling-house, woman. Do you think your
little plot has changed my mind? Now I’ve all the more reason to keep an eye on
the wench, thanks to you!"

Knowing that he meant Niall, Triona swallowed
nervously. She fell back a bit, starting when Aud caught up with her, a soaked
blanket pulled over her maid’s head like a cloak.

"I’m so sorry, sweeting! There wasn’t anything I
could do."

"It’s all
right,
Aud.
Ronan’s taking Caitlin to my room. It was his plan before he even came to the
grain house."

"But where did the O’Byrne find you, sweeting?"

"At Niall’s house," Triona said distractedly,
cold rain lashing at her face. "But we can’t talk about that now, Aud.
Promise me you’ll look after Caitlin. She’ll need a hot bath, dry clothes—"

"Aye, I’ll see to it."

"And send a bath at once to our room. And wine,
Aud! Lots of wine. Ronan’s in a terrible temper. . . ." Glancing ahead of
her, Triona winced as Ronan practically hauled Caitlin over the threshold. "I’ve
got to go to him, Aud. I’ll see that the key is left for you in Caitlin’s door."

Aud’s reply was lost as Triona splashed across the
yard, anger sweeping her that Ronan could be so cruel. Yet for once she
prudently held her tongue when she got inside, Ronan’s face truly ominous to
behold as he slammed the door behind Caitlin and ground the key in the lock.
Then he turned his wrath upon her, jerking his head toward their room.

"Inside. Now."

Chapter 36

TRIONA SILENTLY OBEYED
him
,
bristling at his harsh command yet determined to keep her own temper in check.
She’d gotten what she wanted after all, and most importantly, she and Ronan
were back together. Now if only she could diffuse his fury

She jumped as the door slammed shut, spinning around to
face him. She doubted she’d seen him angrier, at least where she was concerned.
Hoping to somehow lighten the tension, she gave him a small smile.

"Close the door any harder, Ronan, and you’d have
brought the roof down upon us."

When he didn’t readily reply, instead wresting his
sodden cloak from his shoulders and hurling it with a wet smack to the floor,
Triona knew her attempt had failed. Especially when he moved toward her, his
storm gray eyes burning into hers.

"You think this is a jesting matter, Triona?"

"If . . . if you mean Niall," she began,
edging backward.

"Aye, I mean Niall," Ronan broke in tightly,
advancing upon her. "You’re playing the matchmaker again, woman, but this
time with fire and water, two things that can never mate. Each can only consume
or smother the other—"

"And you’re making much more of this than there
is!" she blurted, half stumbling when she suddenly backed into a chair.
Ronan caught her by the shoulders before she could fall but she didn’t try to
wrench away from him despite that his grip was punishing. Instead she lifted
her chin and faced him squarely. "I hoped Niall might see things
differently than you, is all."

"It seems he has," Ronan said. "Swayed by
flowing blond hair and a face and form any man might lust over, no matter that
the cursed wench is a MacMurrough."

"Oh, so you have noticed how pretty Caitlin is,"
Triona spouted indignantly, realizing, too, that she didn’t like it one bit. To
her surprise, a flicker of amusement crossed Ronan’s face but he quickly
sobered as if trying hard to hang on to his anger.

"Aye, with eyes as lovely and green as yours. And
skin almost as fair."

Triona’s mouth fell open; vexation overwhelmed her. Now
she did try to twist away from him, nearly managing it when she stomped on his
foot. But if she’d hurt him, he gave no sign, grabbing her around the waist in
such a way that her back came up hard against his chest.

"A wee bit jealous, Triona O’Toole?"
came
his hot whisper against her ear.

"Not at all," she lied, still struggling
against him despite the delicious chills racing through her. "You can look
where you will, you spawn! We’re not married yet, after all."

He twirled her around so suddenly to face him that she
felt lightheaded, his powerful arms closing so tightly around her that she
could scarcely breathe.

"Do you truly think that I could look further than
eyes that shine with the spirit of ten women and copper curls with enough gold
fire to rival the sun? Soft
skin
the color of finest
cream and a body so perfectly fashioned as to haunt a thousand dreams?"

"Only a thousand?" she could not help teasing
him though her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Aye, greedy as she is brazen," he countered
huskily, his lips so close to hers that she ached to taste them. "Very
well, woman. A lifetime of dreams."

He lifted her and kissed her so passionately that
Triona was certain if her feet had been touching the ground, her knees would
have buckled beneath her. It was so wonderful to feel his mouth on hers again!
So wonderful to feel the strength of his arms, his honed body pressed so
intimately against her breasts, her belly, her hips, a blazing heat rising
between them despite the cool dampness of their clothes. Her head was truly
spinning when he finally released her, but even so Triona couldn’t resist
teasing him further.

"So I’m to be marrying a poet, am I?"

"Aye, I’ve been known to have a way with words—at
least I did before Conor . . ."

Seeing the sudden pain in his eyes, Triona reached up
and gently touched the side of his face. "All’s forgiven, remember? And
forgotten. If I’m to haunt your dreams, Ronan O’Byrne, there can’t be any more
room for Conor. Let’s leave him rest, or at least smile when we think of him.
Agreed?"

Ronan nodded, burying his face in her hair as he
enveloped her in a crushing embrace. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke
long moments later, his gentle teasing only endearing him that much more to
Triona’s heart.

"So it seems I’m to be marrying a sage."

"A sage is it now? I thought I was your angel?"

"Aye, you’re that, and a good bit of a
troublemaker, too." He drew back to look at her, his expression growing
sober. "But I’ll keep you all the same if you promise not to meddle again
in matters best left for me to manage."

"What? And let you have all the fun?"

That comment brought a frown to Ronan’s face, but it
fled when Triona rose on tiptoes and kissed him. She even teased his lips with
a darting swipe of her tongue just to make him smile, but that only made him
groan, and pull her close, funneling his fingers through her hair.

"By God, woman, it’s been too long since I’ve held
you like this. Too long—"

The sudden knock at the door made Ronan groan again,
but this time out of frustration. Reluctantly releasing Triona, he bade her as
he moved across the room, "Stay right where you are."

"I have no intention of going anywhere," came
her low-spoken reply, her seductive smile making it all the more difficult for
Ronan to take his eyes from her. But he did, opening the door to find Fiach O’Byrne.

"We heard you found the girl, Lord. I wanted you
to know that guards have been posted outside her windows as you ordered. Do you
want a man stationed at her door?"

"No, the lock will be enough," Ronan
answered, not wanting any of his clansmen standing guard in the outer room just
in case he and Triona might decide to enjoy the hearth fire together.

As Fiach nodded and turned away, Ronan began to shut
the door only to hear another sharp rap. Exhaling with impatience, he
discovered Aud standing outside, the poor woman drenched and breathless, her
face drawn with worry.

"The water . . . is here for your bath, Lord."

"I ordered no bath," Ronan began, only to
hear Triona come up behind him.

"No, but I did. And some wine."

"Wine?" he queried, raising a black brow.

"To soothe you," she said simply, glancing
past him to give Aud a reassuring smile. When Ronan turned back to the older
woman, he could see that she had visibly relaxed, the sparkle returned to her
large brown eyes.

"Aye well, since it seems to me you won’t be
needing as much soothing, I’ll just send one of those casks back to the
kitchen," Aud said as she gestured for the servants lined up behind her to
start carrying in the water for the tub.

Ronan glanced wryly at Triona as they both stepped out
of the way. "Two casks of wine? I would have been senseless, not soothed."

Triona shrugged as she looked up at him, though she
curled her hand into his large warm one. "I wasn’t sure my kisses would
prove enough for the task, so I came up with a secondary plan."

She was thrilled when Ronan drew her close against him,
his impatient expression matching her own eagerness that the servants quickly
finish filling the tub and then leave them in peace. But Ronan’s husky whisper
thrilled her all the more, his words meant only for her ears.

"Your kisses would have found you tossed upon my
bed if we’d had no interruptions, woman. I need no wine to feel drunk from the
taste of you."

Her breath caught at the scorching look in his eyes. Triona
was scarcely aware that Aud and the rest of the servants had left the room. But
Ronan had noticed because he made a move to close the door only to suddenly
stiffen. A frown marred his features as he stared at the six brimming buckets
waiting near the hearth, then to Aud who was looking at him wide-eyed and
worried again.

"Is that water not for our bath as well?"

Triona quickly came to Aud’s rescue. "The rest is
for Caitlin, Ronan, at my orders—"

"Your orders?" he cut in, a muscle flashing
at his jaw. "I’d rather it be thrown outside into the mud than—"

"Please, Ronan," Triona said softly,
squeezing his hand. "Let Aud see to Caitlin’s needs. Please."

He didn’t answer for what seemed to Triona the longest
time, but finally she felt some of the tension ease from his body.

"Very well, bathe the accursed chit. And Aud . . ."

"Aye, Lord?"

"See to yourself as well. I don’t relish answering
to Taig O’Nolan if you catch a chill."

Aud smiled, a blush warming her cheeks. "I’ll
change into some dry clothes straightaway, Lord."

"It’s Ronan. Call me Ronan."

"Thank you, Lord. I mean, Ronan."

"As for the rest of you," Ronan addressed the
servants who stood waiting for Aud’s direction. "Tell the cook that I’ll
be expecting a fine supper to be served tonight in the hall. We’ve known little
merriment these past days but that sorry state"— he glanced meaningfully
at Triona—"I’m pleased to say has changed." He closed the door on a
ring of astonished faces, leaving him and Triona finally, blessedly, alone.

"Thank you, Ronan," she murmured, seeing that
his face still bore a hint of hardness. "It was a very kind thing you’ve
done for Caitlin—"

"I’ve done nothing for the girl," he broke
in, though Triona knew his harsh tone was not directed at her. "All I’ve
done is for you, Triona. Never forget that. I wouldn’t care if that MacMurrough
wench sat in her room shivering the night away. But I care about you and for
that reason alone, I will yield to your wishes." He swore fluently under
his breath as he stepped away from the door. "Though I grant you, it’s not
going to be easy for me. Just the thought that she’s under my roof . . ."

Triona heard the sheer loathing in his voice and
shivered, grateful that she had his love and not his hate. Quickly she shed her
wet cloak, but she didn’t hasten overmuch as she began to slip her jerkin from
her shoulders.

"Then what can I do to distract you, Ronan? Since
you’ve given me so much, surely there must be something I can give you."

"Aye, there’s something," he murmured,
walking toward her. Within the blink of an eye he had hauled his drenched tunic
over his head and tossed it aside, his hands moving to his trousers. "Are
you going to undress, Triona O’Toole, or is it your plan merely to stare at me?"

Triona gave a saucy smile as her gaze roamed appreciatively
over his bare chest. "But there’s so much for me to admire . . . Ronan!"
She shrieked as he lunged for her and caught her around the waist.

"Don’t you think I’d like to admire you as well?"