Wolf Bride: The Tale Of Ailis and Eoghan: The Macconwood Pack Tales 1

by C. D. Gorri

  His little brother was more bookish and less warrior. He studied ancient texts and worked as chief negotiator for his father. Though lately, he’d not been seen at many of the trade meetings and business dealings that took place on MacContire land.

  Eoghan proved long ago he was the better warrior of the two of them. He was a valued fighter, the heir to his father’s seat as Alpha and Chief of the Name, and the single most sought-after man in the entire county. Everything was his, and yet sometimes he envied Lyall.

  He was fond of him. His sly and sarcastic younger brother was free to chose his life be it as priest, husband, lawyer, what have ye. Sure, he spent his days with scroll or book in hand, but twas his choice to do so.

  Eoghan cared little for the written word. He was more a man of action. Though, truth be told, he enjoyed the odd group of players who passed their village every now and again. Especially the wenches who travelled with them.

  He looked at his brother’s unsmiling face and frowned. Lyall was handsome in his way. When had Eoghan last seen him with a lass or two? Why, was his saintly brother too good for the company of the village wenches?

  “Tell me Lyall, why is it that yer always alone with a ledger in hand and never with a young miss on yer arm?”

  “I have things of more import to whittle away my time, and besides, you are the one who is fair of face. You’ve had many of the village wenches and yet you long for one who for all ye know could have been a figment of yer imagination. Ha!”

  Eoghan missed the fire in Lyall’s eyes as he tossed back the rest of the thick brew in his mug. Still he sympathized with him. It could not be easy for the lad being the second son. Eoghan would inherit all and Lyall, well, he was left to work for him.

  “I drink to yer freedom, Lyall, may ye never waste it.”

  Too many chains came with Eoghan’s position in the Pack. Lyall, bless his heart, would have naught to worry his dark head over. One thing he vowed upon his life, Eoghan would always take care of his brother. Blood was blood.

  “Is it freedom ye long for? I fear ye shall be free when ye are dead, brother, so do not worry now,” Lyall reached forward and poured more dark ale into Eoghan’s mug.

  “Aye. To death! Ha!” Eoghan’s laughter echoed through the hall and Lyall narrowed his eyes.

  “Tis really worth the trouble of drowning yerself in ale??”

  “You know damn well it is! I must marry the Dungannon lass.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Is that all?! Are ye daft? Tis agony! It pains my heart thus!”

  “Eoghan, mayhaps you should find some means to soother yer troubled heart?” Lyall reached for the arm of the hearty maid who’d been strutting past him for the past hour. He gave her buxom figure a generous squeeze and whispered in her ear whilst she giggled.

  “Do not trouble yerself so, Eoghan, marrying the lass is easy. She’ll not interfere much. Ye can search for the other when the vows are said, after all, there is naught she can do to stop you, is there?”

  Eoghan watched his brother with lifted eyebrow. Lyall continued to hold the wench in one strong arm while he licked the side of her neck and, wait, did he just bite her? She squealed and pushed at him, but he was immovable.

  He reached up her skirts in view of all in the place. Twas most unlike him. Eoghan frowned. Whatever Lyall was about, the maid looked scared and cried aloud.

  Eoghan was about to intervene, but suddenly, Lyall released her. She hurried off, wiping her eyes as she fled. Mayhap Eoghan needed to discuss the occurrence with Lyall, but he was distracted by his brother’s words.

  “Don’t forget Eoghan that twas I who met with the Dungannon on yer and father’s behalf. On father’s orders, of course. The cut in dowry was necessary I am afraid, but the maiden is pure and fresh, a normal and a virgin! Our own priest had it from her maid and surgeon.”

  “That is fine for her. At this point I’d not care whether she be Wolf, Dog or Bear!”

  “What say you? Are ye daft? A normal who knows about Wolves and understands the way of things? Tis a blessing!”

  “Aye, Lyall, but what of the rest of her? Is she intelligent? Is she kind? Thoughtful? Does she have good humor?”

  “Ye mean how does she fair in looks?”

  “Tis of no import. There is but one maid I can see in my mind.”

  “Well, come to think of it, she was veiled when I saw her, but her form was very comely. She was neither too plump nor too thin.”

  “Oh, that’s reassuring!”

  “Worry not, fair brother, worry not. I have it on the best authority that you will have all that is yer due.”

  Lyall grunted when Eoghan clapped him on the shoulder, and stood to leave. Whatever was wrong with Lyall, Eoghan had little time for it now. He wished he could bury his sorrows somehow, but it was time for him to act a man.

  He was promised and, though he had not made the vow himself, it was just as sacred. He would forget the lady of the woods and prepare himself for his marriage.

  He hastened to the chapel and sought prayer and solitude. Perhaps he’d find the answer there. If not, there was always the training grounds. Hmm. Perhaps he’d go there first.

  CHAPTER 5

  Eoghan stared at his father with a look of disbelief on his face. Twas bad enough he was betrothed where his heart had no currency. Was he to play the fool now as well and marry a faceless bride?

  “What do you mean she wishes to be veiled throughout the ceremony and the feast afterwards?”

  “As I understand it, the lady wishes to wear a veil so you are persuaded by no other outside force, only the strength of yer word and yer commitment to make good yer oath and proceed with this match.”

  “I will keep my word or yers as it were, father! Does the Dungannon question my honor?”

  “Tis done, Eoghan, calm yerself. She will wear the veil.”

  “Nay, I’ll not-”

  The altercation between father and son continued with silent growls and even a bit of posturing. Werewolves tended to be quite keen on displays of power and the younger Eoghan MacContire was no exception.

  What he did not know, was that Lyall sat in the corner with his head down as his brother and father growled across his father’s sitting room. A wicked grin spread across his pale face with both none the wiser.

  His plans were going exceedingly well. His pact with the Dark Witch working as she said it would. What was it she told him after he spilled his seed inside of her foul body that cursed night? Ah yes, he recalled her raspy voice in his ear before she vanished from the empty corridor.

  “Now to feed the spell with yer seed, I cast this night and ye shall watch it unfold as I tell it now. Strife will sow between first son and father, the veiled bride shall be wed, she must not be unmasked, and ye will rise from yer station to that which is yer heart’s desire. Heed me, the Wolf Bride must ne’er take off her veil in his sights or all will be lost.”

  It seemed as if Lyall would not have to lift a finger. His father already agreed the lady would be veiled and his brother, well, he’d have no say in the matter. Everything was going according to plan. He turned his dark head to see his father order both his sons out of the room. Soon, old man, it will be me in command and all will obey my word! Soon.

  “Tis done, be gone with ye both!”

  At their father’s dismissal both brothers stalked off from the room. Eoghan’s hands were clenched into fists. He was anxious after all that had taken place.

  “I’d like to dip my head in a vat of uisce beatha for all that man does not listen!” Eoghan pushed his golden locks out of his face and exhaled.

  Lyall noted that his eyes were glowing an icy blue that was almost white in color. The same color they were when he was Wolf. He must have been angrier than he knew. He was careful no to look directly at Eoghan.

  He didn’t need to scuffle with his older sibling. Physical prowess was not the means by which he’d win his right to Alpha. Nay, he had more brains than that. Eoghan in
a state would beat the tar out of him and he knew it. Best to lighten his mood altogether.

  “Come, brother, let us find yer whiskey! Ye shall need yer courage to wed a masked lady, perhaps a little something else to take the edge off as well.”

  “Nay, I’ll take whiskey only. I’ve had my fill of wenches as of late. First, a mystery woman in the woods and, now, a masked bride.”

  “Yes, I wonder why father allowed it,” Lyall agreed.

  “Can you imagine? A veil? For what purpose? Does she hide a scar? Is she disfigured in some way? Is she just another English patsy in our midst to try and cure me of my Roman affiliations and plan to bid me as dog to her queen?”

  “Perhaps it is just she has more than nineteen summers and wishes to hide her age from you, brother!”

  “Yer the one who had dealings with Dungannon! Did ye not get one good look at the lass?” Eoghan shoved Lyall playfully as the pair went down the hall in search of their sustenance.

  “Nay, she was kept from mine eyes, but he assured me she is all the things a wife should be!” Lyall wiped that part of his tunic that Eoghan wrinkled with his push.

  He could barely contain his snarl, but again was too intelligent to challenge his brother outright. Nay, be still. He tried to focus on Eoghan’s words.

  What did he ask again? Ah! Twas true he visited the Dungannon a fortnight ago to finish the terms of the betrothal contract. Lyall volunteered for the mission as it were, much to the surprise of his father.

  The old fool thought he was taking an interest in becoming Eoghan’s bloody secretary! The insinuation enraged him to no end.

  Soon he’d be the one in charge and not some lackey! Before his journey to Dungannon lands, Lyall met with the Dark Witch. She led him to believe that the lady betrothed to his brother was not the English miss her father spoke of. Nay, she was just a common bitch.

  A fine match for his pig of a brother! Ha! She told him to sweeten the deal with the Dungannon and Lyall heeded her words. Her powers, whatever they were, best be worth it. Lyall could hardly piss worth a damn since his cock entered her wretched slit.

  Twas the price he paid for his kingdom and he’d likely do it again, he reminded himself. Lost in his own thoughts, Eoghan missed the malice hidden behind his brother’s dark coal eyes.

  “Come let us drown yer sorrows in a jug of golden whiskey,” Lyall’s tongue was honeyed and sweet as he poured jar after jar for his fair-haired brother.

  “One more for strength, yes?”

  “Nay! I am done! And you, when shall ye trade yer milk for this then?”

  Lyall smiled his serpentine grin and shook his head. Eoghan failed to notice the powdery substance his brother added to his beverage time and again. A half an hour later and the effects were evident.

  “Lyall, I feel ill, Ly-” His blonde head hit the wooden table with a thump.

  Lyall sneered and slapped his brother across the face. He moved to repeat his action, but a servant, his servant, interrupted. He was a sniveling wretch, but he kept Lyall’s secrets and was paid well for the trouble.

  “Take this note to my father,” he took a rolled letter from out of his sleeve and lifted Eoghan’s hand, it was imperative that his scent be on the paper.

  “It seems my brother is well and happy to marry the Dungannon lass on the morrow. May he be damned for all the remainder of his days and may those days be brief!” He spat on his brother’s sleeping form and thrust the missive at the servant.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Lyall’s head snapped round and he bared his teeth at the wretch before him.

  “Pardon, I mean, my lord, of course.”

  “Tis best you remember that, boy. Now wait upon my word. As for you, brother mine, for once in yer perfect life I’ve the upper hand. Come now, tis time for you to wake!” Lyall lifted the jug of whiskey and splashed it across Eoghan’s face.

  Werewolves metabolized potions and poisons far quicker than normals. He had roughly a minute or two before his brother would awaken.

  “Oy, what is this? My head throbs murderously.”

  “Nay, tis only yer nerves. Come, go and bathe. Yer betrothal shall be announced and ye shall make yer promise to the lass among all soon enough. Now, I’ll get a servant to fetch some water.”

  Some time later…

  Eoghan stood up too quickly. He sipped from the jug of water Lyall’s man had fetched for him, but the water was too tepid for his tastes. The slow thud that plaguing his brain suddenly peaked and he howled his pain.

  “How dost thou fare?”

  “What brew was in this cup? Lyall! What time is it?”

  “It is almost time for the ceremony! Come you must bathe and dress the part,” Lyall was immaculate in his finely stitched wool. His dark hair gleamed and his shoes were polished.

  Eoghan looked like a commoner in comparison. Even his mouth felt mealy and sick. He took a long swallow from a mug of fresh water and spit it into a waiting bowl.

  “Ugh, I feel I’ve been bespelled by some Witch or Devil!”

  “Come Now, in our house? Who would dare such a thing? Tis husbandly nerves is all.”

  Eoghan wiped his face with a square of cloth and followed his brother to his chambers. He needed to at least dress the part or his father would have his hide for a rug. He would wear the traditional leine of his clan.

  His affluence would be recognizable in both the fine dying of the wool with saffron till it shone as yellow as his hair. Golden thread embroidered the hem and sleeves, it sparkled in the sunlight. His inar was a red-brown color and fit tightly over his broad chest. Hundreds of small pleats were neatly stitched and ironed into the soft wool.

  It was further decorated with the crest of his family, the MacContire, it depicted a Wolf, head thrust back mid-howl and claw raised. His clan were warriors. The crest was ancient with few modern touches. The newest addition was a high Celtic cross behind the Wolf.

  It signified their clan’s loyalty to the Hounds of God, and the Werewolf blood that kept them strong. Though normals had no idea the MacContire were actually more beast than man.

  Eoghan was proud of his crest. Proud of his land. Of his people. He was both Wolf and Hound. Warrior and heir to the Pack. Eoghan may not want to marry the English miss, but he would at that. Honor was everything.

  The handfasting would soon begin, and he would go to his betrothed in the dress of his people. Twas the custom of both his Irish and Werewolf descendants. The Catholic priest overseeing the match agreed that their ancient custom would be honored. The real marriage ceremony, the legally binding one, would not be held for weeks.

  Many things could happen in that time. Eoghan wondered if the lass fancied taking herself to London after the ceremony, as her English mother before her did.

  His dark eyes narrowed. He’d not allow it. She could just as well forget her fancy notions of English life. No sir, not here. She was in the wilds of Ireland. His home. And he was the only master he’d tolerate in his house.

  Betrothals aside. Eoghan was a man. He intended to get a few things straight with his bride before the ceremony.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Gwinnie, is that you? Just come in then and help me with my laces!”

  Ailis was bent over the side of the bed. She attempted to retrieve her sleeve from the floor, but the cumbersome skirts of her English dress were simply too big for her. Especially unlaced as they were now.

  Whatever her mother had assured her about fashion, she felt large as three people in the multi-layered skirts that would go under the gown itself. The dark green color was fetching and all, but she didn’t even have it on yet and already the dress weighed a ton. She was not even certain of all the pieces.

  There were several underskirts on top of the thin chemise she wore. An outer gown with hard pieces of bone sewn inside, a stiff collar, separate sleeves, wool stockings, and the veil her father insisted she wear, made up the rest. The gown itself was heavily embroidered with silvery thread and brocade adornment
s.

  Ailis wondered if she’d look as ridiculous as she felt. If only she could wear the much simpler gowns she was used to wearing at home. But this ceremony was about more than her comfort. It was about power and standing.

  She was the currency her father used to buy his good standing in County Tyrone. And now I go from one man’s rule to another’s. Will I never be free?

  What was taking her lady’s maid so long? She could not even put on the outer gown without her help. She turned around at the sound of footsteps.

  “Gwi- Ooh, you, you leave this room at once!” Ailis shrieked at the tall man standing in her doorway.

  She was very aware of the fact that an indecent amount of her breasts and shoulders were on display. She wanted to cover them and hide, but something told her she’d never outrun the brute. He was big as an ox and took up most of the space of the large doorway.

  His dark eyes seemed to eat every inch of her exposed skin and she fought not to shield herself from his sight with her hands. Instead, she stood tall and straight, after all she was well over five foot five inches at her full height.

  She looked down her straight nose at him with clear blue eyes. A difficult feat since he was at least ten inches taller than she. Still, she managed it.

  “I said leave here, sir. Can ye not see that I am not dressed yet?”

  “Indeed, I see that and more, lady, tis the reason I can not look away.”

  Ailis blue eyes widened. She’d never been addressed in such a way before. And by a man! Her heart sped up in her chest as he continued his thorough perusal.

  “Wondrous and lovely, thou art, lady, forgive the intrusion,” his eyes that had been dark a moment ago suddenly shone a light blue and Ailis stepped back.

  He stared at her face for one moment before recognition spread across each of them. Tis cannot be? And what she, a servant then? For she is undone in my eyes and puts her mistresses gown out on the bed.

  “Tis you! The lady of the wood! I am pleased to see you are well,” Eoghan’s words were calm, but inside he felt anything but.