Briana

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  "Death to the English."

  "Aye." A great roar went up from the crowd. "Death to the English."

  Outside, Keane lifted her tenderly into his arms and mounted his

  horse, then took up the reins of her horse, leading it behind.

  As they rode through the village, the voices from the tavern faded.

  Keane wrapped his arms firmly around her, drawing her against him.

  He could feel the shudders ripping through her slender body. Tremors

  of horror and revulsion that she no longer had the strength to fight.

  "You're safe now, Briana."

  She shook her head. "I'll never be safe. Not as long as Halsey lives.

  None of us will be."

  Though Keane wanted to deny it, he couldn't. He'd known sp many

  men like Halsey. Bullies who enjoyed the killing.

  They crested a hill and began the descent toward Carrick House. All

  around them there was only the silence of the night.

  And Keane's voice, low and fierce with passion. "Then we'll have to

  see that he lives no longer."

  Keane's order to the servant was issued sternly. "You'll see that the

  lass has a warm bath, Cora. And then she's to go straight to bed."

  "Aye, my lord." The servant studied Briana, who, beneath the

  tumbled hair and garb of a stable lad, looked pale and drawn. "Has

  our lass been wounded?'

  "Aye. But it is a wound to her soul. She needs her rest. See to it."

  "Aye, my lord." As soon as he'd stormed out of the chambers, Cora

  helped Briana to bathe and dress for bed.

  "What about food, my lady?"

  Briana shook her head. "I couldn't. But thank you, Cora. You may go

  to your room. I'll sleep soon."

  "Aye, my lady." Troubled by the look in her eyes, the servant blew

  out the candle and let herself out of the room.

  Minutes later Keane stopped Cora in the hallway. "Is the lass asleep?"

  "Nay, my lord. She seems agitated. But she asked me to leave her

  alone. Would you like me to go back and sit with her?"

  He shook his head. "Go to bed, Cora. I'll see to her."

  At Briana's door he knocked, then entered. The room was in darkness.

  But as his eyes adjusted, he could see, by the light of the fire, that

  Briana was standing by the window.

  "You should be in bed, lass."

  She turned. For the longest time she merely stared at him. Then, in a

  voice just above a whisper she asked, "Why do you call me lass?"

  "It suits you."

  "Nay. It suits you to call me that. It implies that I'm still just a wee

  lass, and not a woman, doesn't it?"

  "Is that what you think?"

  She nodded.

  He stayed where he was, afraid to walk closer. "You're in a strange

  mood tonight."

  "Aye." She hugged her arms about herself. "I suppose it was talking

  about the attack of the soldiers. And Halsey." She shivered. "And

  thinking again about those brave lads who'd been sent to accompany

  me home."

  "You said yourself they died bravely. Nobly."

  "Aye. But they're dead just the same. And I'm not."

  "Is that what's bothering you? That you lived?"

  She shook her head. "You don't understand. They died without ever

  having a chance to live. And I lived, but for what? I'm no better off

  than they. What have I done with my life? I've no husband to look at

  me the way Hugh McCann looks at his Bridget. No babes, clinging to

  my skirts and smiling up at me with absolute trust."

  "You'll have all that." Even as he said it, the thought brought a knife

  to his heart. He didn't think he could bear to see another man look at

  her with love. Or to hear that she'd borne another man's children.

  "How can you know what my future will hold?" She took a step

  toward him and saw a wary look come into his eyes. "I could face

  Halsey's sword again tomorrow. And then, all my fine dreams would

  be gone forever."

  He reached out a hand and caught her more roughly than he'd

  intended. "Don't say such things, Briana."

  "And why not? Do you know, Keane, that I've never shared my

  dreams with anyone?"

  He hadn't meant to touch her. But now that he had, he couldn't seem

  to let go. He drew her even closer, his hands moving across the tops

  of her shoulders, down her arms, trying vainly to dispel her chill and

  warm her with his touch. "You'll share them someday." His voice

  roughened. "With someone who deserves to share them with

  you."Her head came up. He could see her eyes warming, softening. "I

  want to share them with you, Keane."

  He could feel the blood draining from his head. And rushing straight

  to his loins. "Be sensible, Briana. Any day now you'll be going home.

  I'm sure in Ballinarin there are any number of men eager to be a part

  of your dream."

  "I don't want any number of men in Ballinarin." She stood as tall as

  she could and brushed her lips over his. "I want you, Keane."

  It wasn't possible to resist those lips. Perhaps, if he had been a saint,

  he would have made a more valiant effort. But Keane did what any

  mere man would do, taking what she offered with a greedy hunger

  that rocked them both. His mouth closed over hers in a long, slow,

  deep kiss, pouring out all the passion, all the desire, all the loneliness

  in his heart.

  She answered with equal passion and hunger.

  His hands were greedy, touching, massaging, arousing. He pressed

  soft, moist kisses to her neck, her shoulder and the sensitive hollow of

  her throat.

  With a sigh she arched her neck and clung to him, loving the feel of

  his lips on her flesh.

  He continued kissing her while his hands began a lazy exploration of

  her back, her sides. His thumbs encountered her breasts, stroking

  until her nipples hardened.

  He swallowed her gasp, taking the kiss deeper until they were both

  struggling for breath. And still he savaged her mouth, wanting more,

  needing more.

  His words, spoken inside her mouth, were rough with urgency. "God

  in heaven, Briana, what am I to do with you?"

  She wound her arms around his neck and sighed with sheer pleasure.

  "You could try loving me, Keane."

  He lifted his head and stared down at her. She was smiling in the most

  seductive way.

  When had the lass learned to flirt? And why did she have to be so

  appealing as she tried to ply her newly discovered womanly charms?

  He took a deep breath to steady the ripple of nerves that threatened to

  send him over the edge at any moment. "You don't know what you're

  saying."

  "Aye. I do, Keane. I want you to lie with me. And love me."

  "That isn't possible." He took a step back, needing desperately to

  break contact. When he was holding her, touching her, he couldn't

  think. And right now, he needed a clear head, so that he could do the

  right thing. The honorable thing. The only thing.

  "I don't understand. I thought you..." She paused. Licked her lips, that

  had gone suddenly dry. "I thought we...cared about each other."

  "I do care about you, Briana. That's why I'm leaving now. This

  minute. Before we both do something you'll later regret."

  She felt te
ars dangerously close to the surface, and blinked furiously.

  ' 'Is it me? Is there something about me that you don't like?"

  Before he could answer, she shook her head. "Aye. Of course. It's as

  my father said. I don't know how to be a woman. I suppose that would

  put off most men. But I'd thought, somehow, that you were different

  from other men. That you would like me despite my... imperfections.'

  He caught her arm and dragged her roughly against him. His voice

  against her temple was a rasp of fury.

  "Don't be a fool, Briana. You're more woman than any I've ever

  known. A man would have to be a fool not to want you. But this is

  about me. About what I am."

  She pushed away. "And what are you, Keane? Some sort of

  monster?"

  "Aye." His eyes were hard. As was his voice. "You've led a sheltered

  life, Briana. You have no idea about men like me. Believe me, you're

  better off without me in your life."

  "Don't you think that should be my decision?"

  "Nay." He hated the pain and confusion in her eyes. But there was no

  way he could explain. "The decision is mine. I made a vow to see you

  returned to your father as I'd found you, or die trying. And, by God, I

  intend to keep it."

  "And my feelings don't matter?"

  "Your feelings..." He lifted a hand, as though to touch her, then

  seemed to think better of it and closed his hand into a fist at his side.

  "Your feelings are bound to be confused, Briana. But one day you'll

  see things clearly, and you'll be grateful that you saved yourself for

  someone worthy of you. You're a very special woman, Briana O'Neil.

  The man who finally wins your heart will be the luckiest man in all of

  Ireland."

  Because he could no longer bear to look at her, he turned away. "Now

  go to bed. And I'll do the same."

  Briana stood perfectly still, watching as he let himself out of her

  room. In a state of shock she listened to the sound of his footsteps

  recede along the hall. And then, with her arms wrapped around

  herself to ward off the sudden chill, she listened to the silence of

  Carrick House as it closed around her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Filled with self-loathing, Keane paced his room. His tunic lay in a

  heap beside the bed. It had given him little satisfaction to kick off his

  boots and watch them bounce, one after the other, against the wall. He

  had downed a tumbler of ale in one long swallow. But all it had done

  was leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

  As had this whole horrible night.

  He stormed to the balcony to stare into the blackness, but all he could

  see was Briana's eyes. The sweet lass was as transparent as glass. All

  her emotions were there for him to see. The self-doubt. The

  confusion. The pain of rejection.

  That had been the worst. He'd hated hurting her like that. But it was

  the only way it could be done. It would have been so easy to take what

  she offered. In fact, it had taken all his willpower to refuse. But

  afterward she would have hated him. And would have always

  resented the fact that she had given herself to a man like him.

  A man like him.

  Aye, he thought, running his hand through his hair. This was better. A

  quick, clean amputation. Like cutting off an arm to save a life.

  Or cutting out a heart.

  He caught the edge of the balcony at the sudden pain. He'd survived

  so much. He would survive this, as well. But the pain of this loss

  would linger for a lifetime.

  He exhaled a long, slow breath, and allowed his shoulders to slump

  for just a moment. Then he straightened and made his way back to the

  bedside table, where he poured himself another glass of ale.

  Briana sat shivering on her balcony, staring off into the distance. She

  had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, her chin resting on her

  arms atop the railing. It could have been hours or mere minutes. Time

  was a blur.

  She hadn't cried. The pain was too deep for tears. She had thought her

  father's rejection the most crushing blow of her young life. But it had

  been nothing compared with this. The knowledge that she had offered

  herself to Keane, and that he had refused her, left her shattered.

  She couldn't let him crush her spirit, she thought as she got to her feet

  and began to pace. She wouldn't permit it. Still, when she thought

  about how calmly, how.-coldly he had rejected her, she had to bite

  back a sob.

  He'd called her feelings "confused." As though she were somehow a

  child who didn't know her own heart. She-clenched her hands at her

  sides and stalked around the room, fueling her anger. It was so much

  better than self-pity. Anger was something she could deal with.

  Confused, was she? She hadn't been confused about the things she'd

  felt whenever he'd touched her, kissed her. And there was no

  confusion in her mind about his reaction to her either. Oh, there were

  times when he'd worked hard to bank his emotions. She'd been aware

  of that. But there were other times when he hadn't been able to hide

  his true feelings. When he'd crushed her in his arms and kissed her

  until they were both breathless. Like tonight, before he'd managed to

  compose himself.

  She paused. Aye. Tonight, when he'd first come to her room, there

  had been real concern in his eyes. And tenderness in his voice. And a

  rough possession in his touch that left her no doubt of his intentions.

  But then it was as if he'd closed a door on his emotions. He'd called

  himself a monster. And hinted that she would have to live with regrets

  if they should give in to their passion.'

  What else had he said? She struggled to remember. At the time she'd

  been so stunned, she'd hardly paid any heed to the words. Now it was

  important to recall them clearly.

  He'd spoken of a vow he'd made to return her to her father as he'd

  found her.

  She clapped a hand to her mouth. Sweet heaven. Of course. It all

  made sense now. Ever since her fall from Peregrine, Keane O'Mara

  had been a changed man.

  Cora had told her he'd never left her bedside until she regained

  consciousness. And from that moment on, he'd been so different, it

  had become a matter of great discussion among all the servants.

  Since that time, whenever he was in her presence he'd been

  concerned, compassionate, almost brotherly. As though he'd shut

  down any other passions.

  She stood in the middle of the room, giddy with relief, as the truth

  dawned. Her heart swelled with such joy, she feared it would burst.

  Keane loved her. Loved her so much, he'd bargained with heaven on

  her behalf. And now he felt honor-bound to protect her virtue, by

  whatever means possible.

  Without taking time to think about what she was doing, she raced out

  of her chambers and down the hall.

  Keane slouched in a chair in front of the fire. The room was dark

  except for the red glow of hot coals.

  After the day he'd put in, he ought to be sleeping. But sleep, he knew,

  would be impossible this night. How could he rest knowing that all

&nbs
p; that he'd ever desired lay just a room away? And he, like some sort of

  noble hero, had just cast all his dreams aside. For what?

  He wasn't feeling noble right now. All he felt was empty. And cold.

  So bone-jarring cold, he would probably never know warmth again.

  He'd spent the past hour thinking of ways to spirit Briana away to his

  chateau in France or his villa in Spain, where her love would wash

  him clean, and he could put away his past forever. It was a foolish

  wish. For his past was real. And sordid. And nothing and no one, not

  even someone as innocent and good as Briana, could change it.

  Briana. It was time he started thinking about her needs. She had a

  home to return to. A family she loved, who loved her. She hadn't seen

  Ballinarin in three years now. It was time he returned her to the one

  place she really belonged. A place where she would be safe.

  Especially from him.

  He didn't even bother to look up when the door to his chambers was

  opened. He pressed an arm over his eyes as light from the hall

  sconces spilled into the room. "I don't wish to be disturbed, Vinson."

  He heard the door close and expelled a tired breath. He leaned back,

  closing his eyes. If only he could close his mind as easily.

  "Can't sleep, my lord?" The familiar voice was soft, breathless, as

  though she'd been running.

  His eyes snapped open. He got to his feet, staring at her as if he

  couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

  He was barefoot and naked to the waist. Something she hadn't

  counted on. It took her a moment to absorb the jolt to her already

  charged system. "You once said I live my life without boundaries."

  "We were talking about class boundaries, if I recall."

  "You were." She took a step closer and saw his eyes narrow. The fact

  that he was nervous only made her all the bolder. She laid a hand on

  his and he reacted as though he'd been burned, dropping his hand to

  his waist, where he clenched it into a fist. "I was talking about

  crossing all boundaries, Keane."

  "This is one I wouldn't advise." Needing something to do, he walked

  to the fireplace and tossed a log on the fire.

  She watched the way the muscles of his back and shoulders bunched

  and tightened with each movement. Her throat went dry, but when he

  stood, she forced herself to calmly walk to him, to boldly touch a