by Mia Pride
Another thought floated through his mind that froze his body more than the earthen floor beneath him. With his father’s death, the Noble Council would be meeting this morn to proclaim him the new chieftain of Coraindt. He held his head and grimaced as his temples began to throb. It was a certainty they would choose him as king. There was nobody else. He had been raised as a warrior, following in his father’s footsteps throughout the years, just in case the day ever came. As the years passed, it became painfully clear that no other man in their tuath was as capable or well-prepared as he was. A meeting had already been held a few moons ago, where the council and his father had arranged the plans.
His father’s burial would need to be arranged and Garreth would have to be inaugurated as their chieftain. How could he handle it all alone?
He groaned loudly. It was too much to bear in such a short amount of time. “Garreth? Are you all right?” He heard the sweetest, softest voice call to him and his eyes widened. He had forgotten that Ceara had cared for him the night before, cleaned his wound, and spoken gently to him. In his haze of pain and grief, she was the light guiding him through the dark. “Garreth?” He heard her shuffle and next thing he knew, he felt her warm, sweet breath on his neck as she leaned over him and her gentle fingers probed near his bandaged wound.
“I am all right, lass,” he whispered, turning his head toward her so their faces were only inches away. Her long red waves hung over his face, smelling of wildflowers and honey, and he inhaled her scent readily. Her green eyes veiled with dark lashes searched his face with genuine concern and he could not resist the impulse to touch her.
Taking her head in his hands, he pulled her down to him and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. She sighed at the gentle touch and leaned in, to his surprise, not shying away from his embrace. “Ceara,” he whispered as she slightly pulled away and kissed his forehead. It felt so soft, yet powerful. His chest constricted and his heart seized up. Seeing her this close, her features illuminated by the hearth fire, she was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Like a goddess sent from above to seduce him, mind, body, heart, and soul.
“Good Morrow, Garreth,” she said as she sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She looked so sweet and innocent. She was sweet and innocent. He had been her first kiss. Something about that revelation enthralled him. He never wanted another man to know the taste of her lips.
When the word “morrow” rolled off her tongue, it reminded him of her promise to marry him this day. His heart lifted and an uncontrollable smile spread over his face. He may have a lot to face in the next sennight with his father’s burial and his inauguration as king, but at least he had this. Her. Ceara. The woman he had promised to marry seven and ten years ago. The woman he avoided for most of those years. No more avoiding her. He found himself wanting to be consumed by her, enveloped in her presence.
“We must find the druid,” he smiled as he tucked a stray wave of fiery red hair behind her ear.
She pulled back and winced. Why would she wince? “Garreth...”
“Nay!” he shouted unexpectedly, knowing where she was going with that sad tone in her voice. “You made a promise to me.”
Shaking her head, she frowned. “Nay, I did not. I said we would talk about it. We do not need to marry now. You do not know me. You never even tried. You purposely pushed me away and made me watch you carry on with other women while I sat by myself at every festival, with never a lad brave enough to so much as speak to me for fear of you.” She laughed at those words sadly, clearly remembering how he had reacted to Mac Tavish. “And do you not see? The first man in my entire life to show me any favor, and you broke Aaron’s nose!”
Garreth scowled. “Do not say his name to me, Ceara.”
“Aaron.”
“Do not.”
“Aaron. Aaron.”
Garreth growled a warning at her and lifted a brow. “Ceara...”
A defiant gleam flickered in her eye. He knew at that moment what a feisty lass she truly was. “Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” she sighed with feigned passion in her voice, covering her forehead with the back of her hand dramatically.
For a man injured in battle just the night before, he moved with the speed of a wolf. Knocking her on her back, he pushed her onto the floor, just as he had the night before. “Must we keep meeting this way, wife?”
Her eyes bulged out of her head. “Do not call me wife.”
“Wife.”
“Oh! You are an arse!” she cursed at him. She lifted a hand to swat him but he was faster, catching her wrist in his hand.
“Wife, wife, wife.” Lowering his mouth, he brushed his lips across hers, just barely grazing the sweet, plump flesh. She turned her head to the side, trying to avoid the joining of their mouths.
“Wife,” he said again with a playful laugh.
“Garreth! You are ridic—” He claimed her mouth, hard, urgently. She sucked in a breath at his assault and he pressed his advantage. His tongue slipped between her plush lips and Ceara did not give chase. She met the thrust of his tongue with hers and he prided himself on her newly blooming skills. He had taught her how to kiss this way. He looked forward to many more lessons.
For a woman who so adamantly pushed him away emotionally, physically she responded to him instinctively, without inhibition. He felt a slow burn spreading inside him as, once again, she pushed her hips into his. She was playing with fire. If she wished him not to marry her on this day, she was not helping her argument with her urgent response to his body pressed against hers.
His hand slid up her ribcage slowly and stopped just under her breast. She groaned into his mouth and arched, signaling for him to continue. He needed no further invitation. He took her breast in his hand and squeezed gently, feeling rewarded when a mewl escaped her lips. His other hand skimmed down her calf and under her dress. He ran the tip of his finger slowly up the length of her leg, worshiping the softness of the skin on her inner thigh.
He was so close to where he wanted to touch her and she was making no move to stop him. Her legs opened a bit wider and he shifted. The searing pain in his side threatened to slow him down, but he willed it away. This beautiful lass was offering herself to him and he would not be stopped by the gods themselves. No force could stop him from ravishing her here and now.
“Greetings, mo leanbh,” Abigael’s cheerful voice floated into the room as the door flew open wide.
Garreth groaned and rolled off Ceara, once again removing his hands from her body. Apparently, there was a force that could stop his ravishing of Ceara: her mother. He really needed to remember to bar that door.
“You need to bar your door, Garreth,” she chided him mildly and sauntered into the room as if her daughter was not still sprawled on the floor taking in lusty, heaving breaths.
“Or perhaps you could learn to knock?” Garreth suggested wryly, running a frustrated hand through his tangled hair. Ceara watched him move, clearly relishing the way his muscles jumped with his motions. She licked her lips briefly and looked away just quickly enough to see her mother observing the scene with amusement.
“Nay. Now I have evidence that my daughter is truly pleased with the man I chose for her all those years ago. Perhaps she may actually thank me someday.” Abigael shrugged and walked to the back of Garreth’s large rectangular house. All the other homes in the tuath were circular but as the residence of Coraindt’s chieftain, this home was larger, longer, and contained corridors with smaller chambers for guests to stay when visiting.
“Mama!” Ceara hollered as she sat up and covered herself with the blanket still on the floor. “Why are you here?”
Abigael placed a folded piece of light blue fabric down on a knobby wooden table near the hearth and looked at Ceara incredulously. “Why, to prepare you for your marriage, naturally!”
Garreth let out a grunt of approval but Ceara shot to her feet. “I said I would not marry him today!” Ceara stomped her bare foot and crossed her arms. Garreth glared
at her, wanting to shake some sense into her.
“Truly?” Abigael asked incredulously as she looked at her disheveled daughter, Ceara’s hair looking more like a bird’s nest than anything. “You cannot carry on as you do with Garreth and not expect to be married. I will not have you being called a woman of loose morals in the village.”
Ceara’s mouth dropped open at her mother’s crude words, but she snapped it shut and growled. “I am not of loose morals! I have only kissed the man! Nay more than every other lassie in this village has done!”
“But you are promised to him.”
“But you are promised to me.”
Both Garreth and Abigael spoke the same sentiments at the same time and he felt a burst of hope in his chest. Abigael was on the side of this marriage. Certainly, Ceara would see reason.
“I was promised to him. I called off the arrangement. Remember?” She quirked a brow at her mama, then spun and glared at him.
Garreth smirked and ran a hand through his beard. “Hm, I do not recall you saying any such thing. Perhaps you murmured the words in between our connected lips last night and I did not hear them?”
“Och! You are insufferable!” she clenched her fists and spun away from him. “Mama, we must speak.”
Garreth looked at her and felt a pain in his chest, and in his side. Ceara truly did not want him. But she had little choice. She was his, always had been. He felt all the anger rising in his blood. The loss of his father. The wound aching his side. His impending inauguration. Her public display with Mac Tavish. He had claimed her as his. No other lad in the village would dare touch her now. This had always been their inevitable future and, after all that had transpired, she wished to reject him? Nay!
He walked over to Ceara and bared his teeth to her, gripping her by the shoulders. “This is not your choice. Nor mine. My father willed it. It will come to pass. Today,” he snapped and she jumped at the sudden fierceness in his voice. He released her with a slight shove, causing her to take a few steps back as her eyes widened. It was not fear he saw in her gaze, but anger and frustration. Good. She should never fear him. He would never cause her harm. But, by the gods, he would marry her.
“I will leave you two alone to prepare.” He sent Ceara a warning look and she turned away from his heated gaze, crossing her arms in protest. He did not care. As long as she showed up and spoke her vows, she could protest later all she wanted. He would look forward to taming her. Sending her a final grin, he walked out the door in search of the druid. Then he would need a bath, preferably a cold one to calm his flaming groin...and perhaps a strong drink.
Ceara stared at her mother in defiant silence as Abigael continued to unfold the length of light blue cloth, revealing a lovely dress made of the softest, finest fabric she had ever seen. It almost shimmered in the light of the hearth. Though she desperately wanted to know what the material was, she did not ask because she did not want to seem at all interested in anything having to do with this wedding.
ABIGAEL HELD THE GOWN up to Ceara and she reluctantly took it, letting the smooth fabric slip through her fingers. “Tis silk, Ceara. The finest. King Doran traded with a man many moons ago to get a bolt of this just for you and Gwynneth. He insisted it be used for your wedding to Garreth.”
Ceara swallowed hard and her chin began to quiver. “You are truly going to make me marry him, are you not?”
Abigael sighed and grabbed Ceara’s free hand. “Considering the compromising way I have found the two of you twice now, can you blame me? There is an obvious attraction between you two. You have been promised to him your entire life, you are of an age to marry now...why is this suddenly so distasteful to you?”
Ceara felt her stomach knotting up painfully at the memories of yesterday. “Mama, he does not want me. He has made that clear. He told me he was my prisoner just yesterday. He has embarrassed me with other lassies intentionally, just to prove to me how very little interest he had in me. Then last night, suddenly...everything changed.”
“Aye. He claimed you, quite publicly. What does that say to you?”
“Only that he is a jealous man with too much pride! He only did that to protect himself from embarrassment! He can carry on with any lass in front of the entire tribe, but one man in all my life shows me attention, and Garreth breaks his nose!”
“He wants to marry you, Ceara,” Abigael said confidently.
“Only because his father wills it!” Ceara blurted back. “That is all he ever says! His father wills it!”
“Ceara...his father is gone,” Abigael shook her head sadly and guilt suddenly shot through Ceara. She was being cruel to Garreth the very morning after losing his father. But how could she marry him simply out of pity? “King Connor is gone; may he rest in peace in the Otherworld. Garreth will be King. He can reject this marriage if he wishes it, and yet he insists upon it. He wants you, Ceara.”
“He has a very strange way of showing it,” Ceara murmured.
“Aye, he does. But I can see it. Something has changed in him. He is ready for this, to take you as his wife. And not because he feels honor bound. The man wants you, the woman. I have seen it,” Abigael chuckled.
“Mama, please, tis very embarrassing!” Ceara placed her cool palms on her brightening cheeks. “Why must it be today? Why can we not plan slowly while Garreth and I get to know one another?”
“Why wait? He is a good man. Strong, handsome, loyal. He will be a good husband. He will make strong sons.” When Ceara began to protest, Abigael put up a hand to stop her. “He will need you, Ceara. He must bury his father and become a king. Would you not rather be there for him during his greatest time of need? Support him as a wife does; be strong for him.”
Ceara sighed loudly and closed her eyes. What more could she say? She had been caught in his arms twice already, publicly claimed by the man. And he would need her support and strength. She supposed, if their marriage was inevitable, it was best to start it off right, be there by his side when he needed her most. Perhaps it would help them build a bond together. She would be loyal to him and he would be loyal to her...so she hoped. The thought of him being with another woman while married to her made her want to poke his eyes out, but she could not punish him for a deed he had not yet done.
She would marry him, aye, but she would make certain he understood her expectations. “Aye, Mama. I will marry him,” she whispered. “Today.”
Chapter 6
GARRETH stood next to the druid, holding his breath. The entire village had gathered suddenly to watch what he had hoped would be a private exchange of vows. All eyes looked at him with pity, clearing believing he was only marrying Ceara to honor his deceased father’s wishes. It must appear that way. He had rejected her publicly all these years then abruptly, the morning after the death of his father, he finally marries the woman his father had promised him to? He felt like an arse. Ceara did not deserve to have the entire tuath believe she was an unwanted bride. He would just have to make sure every person present knew how much he wanted his wife...if she actually showed up to marry him.
He heard gasps roll around him from the gathered crowd and his gaze snapped from the lingering clouds above to the source of the commotion. His breath caught in his chest as he saw her. She was a vision, a goddess in blue slowly gliding toward him in a long silk gown pulling tightly across every curve of her body. The material strained across her breasts and he could see the outline of her beaded nipples beneath the thin material. He was certain everyone else could as well and that same feeling of possession took hold. He wanted to throw a blanket over her form, to protect her from the gaze of every man in the village.
A gold belt sat low on her hips, accentuating the slight curves leading to her narrow waist. She was a small lass, but he had never known just how small until now. The silk of this dress displayed every curve that her usual linen garments hid well. A wreath of fresh wild flowers adorned her head, sitting proudly atop her mane of wild red waves as they blew in the summer breeze.
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She was a beauty. It was a painful stab to his heart to know his father would not be here today to finally witness the union he had always dreamed of. Garreth briefly wondered why their parents had been so untraditional and arranged a marriage, when it was customary for people to choose a spouse in their society. He had always questioned it, even rebelled against it, feeling the sting of injustice. So, he had taken it out on Ceara. He had treated her cruelly and made up for his lack of control in choosing his bride by bedding every lassie he possibly could.
Sending a prayer of thanks to both his father and the gods, he watched as she slowly glided closer. Not only had his father done right by him all this time, but she had, by some miracle, agreed to marry him after the cruel way he had treated her. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to her, treating her like the goddess she was and the queen she would soon become.
That thought knocked the air out of him. Was she only marrying him now that she knew she would become his queen? Was this an ambitious move for her? He wanted to fiercely push away his sudden doubts, but why else would she agree to so suddenly marry him, when she had adamantly refused before? The niggling doubt ate at him but he had no time to question her, for she was now standing in front of him with her soft curves, wild tresses, and breathless lips. He decided in that moment, he did not care why she married him. He was a lucky bastard just to have her. He would seek answers from her later. For now, he had a wife to take.
Her emerald eyes locked onto his hazel ones tentatively and she must have seen the spark of desire in their depths, for she flushed prettily and looked down at her bare toes buried in the soft green summer grass.
“You look beautiful, Ceara,” he whispered as he took her small hand in his. She looked up at him appraisingly and smiled softly. He had cleaned himself up before the ceremony, took a bath, combed his long hair and put on new brown trousers and a white tunic. He could see the approval in her eyes and he squeezed her hand in acknowledgment.
