by Mia Pride
She wanted to look at him, walk beside him, touch him, anything to feel that connection again. Instead, she looked straight ahead and hobbled on her sore legs, using her brother’s arm for support.
“I want to get Maggie back to our home to be with Elwynna before I see the king. I shall join you all momentarily.” Àdhamh held firmly to her arm and virtually dragged her away, as if he knew she wished to linger in Flynn’s company.
“Mags.” She stopped dead in her tracks at Flynn’s low, pleading voice. Àdhamh tried to yank her forward, but she scowled warningly at him and jerked her arm out of his firm grip.
Swallowing hard, she squared her shoulders, reminding herself that Flynn was never, and would never, be hers. “Aye?” she replied as she slowly turned to look at him. That had been a bad idea. The moment his mesmerizing green eyes focused on hers and she saw his scruffy beard covering his clenched jaw, she felt as if her legs may give way. He was breathtaking and her love for him was debilitating.
“I just wanted to thank you for your tender care and delightful company. You made my recovery much more tolerable.” His eyes burned with unsaid words, but she knew he was thinking of their night together and a chill of pleasure ran up her spine. He affected her body in a most shocking way.
She felt her cheeks flushing and somehow, even with the winter’s cold surrounding her, she suddenly felt heat rising up her neck. “’Tis my job, Flynn. I was glad to do it.” It was all she could think to say, especially with her brother’s narrowed gaze shifting between them suspiciously. There was an almost undetectable sadness in his gaze, but Maggie decided she was imaging it, for it had been Flynn who repeatedly reminded her that they could never be more than companions.
Just then their king appeared, bare-chested and heaving as sweat dripped down his chest. Maggie knew Tuathal was a large man and she had seen him many times without a tunic, but this time, she felt no fear and a smile crept up her face. Aye, despite her new confidence and skills, she knew a man like Tuathal could crush or force her, but she had learned more than just self-defense during her time with Flynn. She had learned that men truly could be trusted, and that was a very freeing discovery, considering that her occupation put her in the company of many large, braw warriors.
Swiping his tunic across his forehead to mop up his sweat, Tuathal’s long dark hair stuck to his neck. “There you are. I was just informed of your arrival. I left training to meet you.” His gaze shifted from the men to Maggie and he bowed his head slightly. “Maggie, what you did for my warrior was the bravest thing any lass has ever done. I am very proud of you.”
Her eyes shifted to Flynn and then back to her king. “I only did what was right, my king. ‘Tis my job to heal the wounded.”
“’Tis your job to heal the wounded aye, but to travel so far to do so, giving up a fortnight of your life? Nay, that is much more.”
Àdhamh looked at her and gave her a proud wink. She felt herself flushing. Being the center of attention was never something she enjoyed, even if it came in the form of praise from her king. “My thanks, my king,” she murmured, and nervously rubbed the thin woolen fabric of her dress between her fingers.
Tuathal nodded and drew his attention back to the men. “We have much to discuss. Shall we speak in private?” He jerked his head toward his home, and the men began to follow silently. Maggie turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward her home. She was anxious to take a proper bath, change out of this awful dress, and see her sister by marriage. She hoped Elwynna fared well after all that had transpired. It was not her fault that her father was a violent man, hungry for power. Still, she knew Elwynna paid the price time and time again.
“Maggie.” Her king’s deep voice called to her and she stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder in confusion. “I would ask you to join us, lass. This involves you, as well.”
Her brow furrowed. What could they possibly discuss that involved her? She knew naught about Flynn and Brennain’s private mission, aside from the plan to infiltrate Mal’s camp. Sharing her confusion with the king was not her place. Her place was to do as commanded. With a sigh of resignation, Maggie walked toward the men, following them into the king’s large rectangular home. Every other home was circular, but his was crafted with corridors, private bed chambers, and enough beds to hold visitors from other tuatha.
As they entered, the sounds of children wailing filled the room and Maggie’s instincts went on high alert. “Is your babe still not feeling well?” she asked when she spotted Queen Leannan in the corner rocking Fedlimid frantically to stop his cries.
“Nay. Well, in truth, I do not know. He is happy until he eats. Once he is off the breast, he starts to holler for hours.” Tuathal explained. “He seems healthy, but I cannot know why he cries after feeding.”
“May I?” Maggie stepped up to Queen Leannan who gladly passed her screaming child over to her, so she could attend to her other screaming child sitting cross-legged in the corner, banging a wooden toy of sorts against the floor. “Is he well?” Maggie nodded to the wee two-year-old child as she took the babe in her arms.
“Och, nay, he likes to fuss whenever his brother does. I assume ‘tis for attention, but the more the babe wails, the more we have two wailing children. ‘Tis enough to make me wish to run for the hills!” Queen Leannan groused.
Maggie sent her queen a sympathetic smile and lifted the wee linen gown over the babe’s belly. His stomach looked slightly distended, but not to the point of concern. Placing him down gently on the bed, Maggie used two fingers to gently poke around his belly button and abdomen. The child made small whimpering sounds and flinched, but otherwise seemed to be calming down as he chewed on his fist, drool dripping down his arm.
“What do you think is the cause?” Leannan asked as she leaned over and observed her child.
“He has pains in his belly from your milk.”
“What?” Leannan flinched back and clasped her heart. No mother wanted to hear that her own child could not tolerate her milk.
“’Tis something you are eating, my queen. Whatever you eat shall also be in your milk. Most often, ‘tis something most common, such as garlic or buttermilk and cheese.”
Leannan looked over her shoulder at Tuathal with contrition on her face. “Och, I put garlic on everything. ‘Tis the very best tasting herb we have!”
“Aye, that it is. It also is very hard on most infant’s bellies. I am sorry, but I recommend nay more garlic until the lad is able to eat other foods.”
“I will gladly do so if it will make my wee one feel better. To think, all this time, ‘tis been the garlic. Och, I feel awful.” Leannan picked up her now cooing son and cradled him in her arms, whispering sweet apologies while smothering his face with kisses.
Something inside Maggie ached for all Queen Leannan had: a handsome husband who adored her and wee babes to love. These were always things Maggie knew she would never have, therefore she never gave them any thought. Now she loved a man so deeply, she could not help but think of a life as his wife. What would it be like to carry his wee babe within her womb? Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. Such thoughts were foolish and would only lead to greater pain.
“This is precisely why I called you here, Maggie,” Tuathal said, pulling her from her thoughts.
“To help wee Fedlimid?” she asked, turning to face him and the three other men.
“Nay. Well, aye, that is fortunate, and I thank you, but I mean to say that I require your further assistance.” Then he turned to Flynn, Brennain, and Àdhamh to include them all in the conversation. “I am done chasing Mal around. I am done waiting for him to form a large enough army to attack us. He shall never do so, but in the meantime, he is causing us much grief. He is threatening my people. ‘Tis time we gather our warriors and bring the fight to Mal. I want his head.”
“Excuse me, my king, but what does this have to do with my sister?” Àdhamh asked. Though Maggie’s ire piqued at her brother for, once again, speaking fo
r her as if she was not there or had no voice, she was also curious as to what any of this had to do with her.
“I want Maggie to travel with us to Mal’s camp. We will need a healer on hand, in case things escalate, and they likely will, for I mean to put an end to this. She has proven her capabilities time and time again, and she has proven her ability to think under pressure. We need her.”
Her heart leapt in her chest. She knew that a fortnight ago, she would have cringed at the offer to travel with the men. She would likely have shaken with fear and even protested. But now? Now her heart longed to go, to be free to travel outside the walls. She had spent so much of her life cowering behind the safety of her brother and her home. She was ready to move forward. She knew it would not all be pleasant. War was terrifying and men would be injured, or worse. She was a healer, the best healer she knew, if she was honest. She wanted this more than she wanted anything… almost. Her gaze locked on Flynn and she breathed deeply at his penetrating gaze. Did he wish her to stay? Or was he silently willing her to go? She was not sure, but she had to remove Flynn from her decision one way or another.
“Nay.” Her head jerked away from Flynn and she narrowed her angry eyes at her meddlesome brother. “I am sorry, my king, but I cannot allow my wee sister to travel with a group of men. She is afraid of men and she is an innocent. Besides, the village needs her here.”
“Your wife has become quite a skilled healer under Maggie’s tutelage. She can handle things here at Ráth Mór. Do not underestimate your sister, Àdhamh.”
King Tuathal truly believed in her, and that made all the difference. Her heart soared at the opportunity to be more, do more. She could do this.
“Again, I am sorry, but I cannot allow it,” Àdhamh argued.
Something took control of Maggie. She was not sure if it was rage, rebellion, or a sense of betrayal that guided her. Mayhap it was an explosive combination of the three, but she was done standing back silently while her brother made life decisions for her.
“Enough!” She fisted her skirts and flared her nostrils, trying to control her temper. “Do not speak as if I am not here to speak for myself, brother. I know you are used to being my champion and I love you for all you have ever done for me. I am nay longer your ‘wee sister’, I am nay longer afraid of men, and I certainly am nay longer an innocent! From now on, I make my own decisions, and I am going.” She crossed her arms and stomped her slippered foot to drive her point home.
Before she could even process all she had inadvertently confessed, her brother stormed over to Flynn with a growl, planting his right hook into the man’s beautiful face. “I knew it! You cursed bastard! You touched my sister! I should kill you!”
Brennain pushed Àdhamh back, causing him to stumble before righting himself. “You fight one Mac Greine brother, you fight both.” Brennain’s fist connected with Àdhamh’s nose, causing blood to spurt out in sickening rivers from his nostrils.
Maggie watched in horror as the men began to brawl. Flynn caught Àdhamh in the belly. “I do not need your help on this, Brennain!” he shouted, just as Àdhamh’s fist connected with Flynn’s jaw. Flynn staggered back, spit out a wad of blood, and growled as he charged at Àdhamh, knocking her brother to the floor. “You know nothing about your sister, mate!” Flynn shouted as he hovered over Àdhamh’s prone body. “You have lived with her all your life and yet you do not see her. She is not yours to command.” Flynn backed away, wiping more blood from his mouth with the back of his arm. Brennain stood beside him with his arms crossed while King Tuathal looked on with boredom. Apparently, men breaking out in a fracas in the middle of his home was not a startling occurrence. Even Queen Leannan ignored the commotion as she continued to play on the floor with her two sons.
“You care for her.” Àdhamh’s voice was soft as he looked up at Flynn. Propping himself up on his elbows, he brought himself to a standing position and rolled his shoulders before looking at Brennain. “Gods, Mac Greine, you hit hard.”
Brennain scoffed. “Flynn hits much harder. He simply went easy on you.”
“Right,” Àdhamh murmured, pushing his long blond hair away from his face. His hazel eyes shone with an emotion Maggie had never seen before, and she swallowed hard and bit her tongue to keep from adding to the insults. “You care for her,” Àdhamh repeated, looking directly at Flynn.
It was all too much. She was not ready to hear Flynn’s response one way or another. If he denied caring for her, her heart would wither and die, causing her the greatest sorrow of her life, not to mention the utmost embarrassment now that everyone knew she had given herself to him. However, if he admitted to having feelings for her, her heart would only ache for what could never be. They were being sent into a war. Once it was over, she would come back here to continue her work and he would continue to do his work for Tuathal, wherever that would take him.
“I have had enough,” she huffed. “None of you, aside from our king, can command me.”
“I never commanded you, lass,” Tuathal corrected.
“Which is why you are the only man in this room right now that I do not wish to throttle.”
“Hey!” Brennain exclaimed, and his lower lip pouted. “What did I do?”
“You punched my brother!” she hollered, and stomped her foot.
“He punched my brother, first!” Brennain countered.
“Your brother took my sister’s innocence!” Àdhamh roared, pointing a finger in Flynn’s face. Flynn grabbed his finger and twisted it back, making her brother yelp in pain.
Rolling her eyes, she walked toward the door. “You are all fools.” Before she left, she turned to address the room. “Àdhamh, Flynn took nothing from me. I gave him my innocence… nay, I begged him to take it! And I shall never be ashamed. Shame on you, for assuming I should remain innocent my entire life.” Then her gaze landed on Tuathal, whose huge arms crossed over his chest as he smiled in amusement. “King Tuathal, tell me when to be ready, and I shall be. My thanks for the opportunity.”
Maggie wished to slam the door to make her exit more poignant, but remembering two wee children were still within the home, she quietly shut it behind her and walked away from the three most ridiculous lads in all Ériu.
Chapter Twelve
Flynn had been left completely speechless when Maggie shut the door behind her the day before. Not only had she admitted to her brother that they had lain together, she said it with such conviction, he could not help but be proud of the strong woman she had become.
Not so long ago, Maggie was afraid of the world, men, emotions, aught that could bring her pain. Now she was demanding to travel with the warriors, willing to face danger to save lives. His heart bloomed with more feeling than he had ever known he could experience. He could actually feel an ache in his chest when he thought of her, causing him to catch his breath and stand in awe. Nobody had ever affected him so.
To his utter shock, her brother had not further pummeled him or made any threats to Flynn after Maggie had left. He was much too stunned as his sister walked away after publicly berating him for treating her like a wee lass. Àdhamh’s jaw had physically dropped and his fair skin flushed with what Flynn had been certain was embarrassment. In a way, Flynn felt bad for Àdhamh. He had done all he knew to do to protect Maggie. Instead of trying to teach her self-defense or to face her fears, he had coddled her, as most good elder brothers would. It had taken another man to teach her the ways of the world. He was proud to have been that man, yet he ached now as he quietly packed provisions for their journey and shoved them in his satchel. He would be so close to Maggie, yet not at all alone, and he had so much he wished to say.
Would she even care to hear what he would say? She seemed to have moved on, no longer being affected by him or the time they shared. It hurt to think he may spend the rest of his life as no more than a shadow in her distant past. Yet, he had been the one to tell her repeatedly that he could offer her naught. She had simply taken him at his word, learned from him what s
he could, and moved on. He should be relieved that a woman, for once, understood what he meant when he said he could not have a relationship, and yet all he felt was pain. She was the one woman who ever made him question his role in life. She made him want more, want to be more. Instead, he would have to settle for finishing this mission and then seeing what his king required of him next.
“The horses are readied. The question is, are you ready?” His brother always knew more than he should. Even when Flynn did his best to show no emotion, his elder brother knew otherwise.
Turning to face Brennain, Flynn crossed his arms. “Aye. I am ready. I am not one to allow my emotions to affect my work.”
Quirking a dark brow, Brennain smirked in triumph. “Emotions? I was simply speaking of your recent injuries, brother. Are there some emotions I should know about?”
Flynn scowled, knowing he had just played into his brother’s wily scheme. “Nay. I am only anxious to be rid of Mal once and for all. I have spent over a year of my life tracking the man. You were the one who infiltrated his camp. ‘Tis time I did my part.”
Brennain looked suspiciously at him through narrowed eyes, as though not at all convinced that there was not more to Flynn’s grim mood, but fortunately he kept his peace. “Arawn awaits you outside. He is saddled, watered, and fed.”
“My thanks,” Flynn murmured, and he tucked a few spare tunics and trousers into his satchel before slinging it over his shoulder. “I am ready.”
As they walked out of their family home and toward the stables, Flynn saw about three score warriors and one wee blonde-haired lass who looked as if she would blow away with the wind when her cloak billowed wildly behind her. She certainly did stand out when surrounded by so many large men, and Flynn noticed a few appreciative glances skim over her body. For the first time in his entire life, he was overcome with a sense of possession. He was not at all certain when he had decided she was his, but he had and if he stood any chance of making it so, he had to find a way to get her alone.
