The Warrior's Mission: A Celtic Historical Romance (The Warriors of Eriu Book 3)

by Mia Pride

  “Mal was going to give me to his men,” Maggie whispered, and Flynn stopped in his tracks. He could hear the fear and hurt in her voice. Of course, she had been frightened. “He wanted Eoghann to take me first as a reward for stealing me, but Reaghan demanded that he deserved me first, because he had been the man to negotiate the terms. Mal agreed, but Reaghan had to kiss me… to make it appear he was going to… take his turn.”

  Heart lodged in his throat and stomach churning with distaste, Flynn focused on breathing before he murdered every single one of Mal’s men in this filthy camp. What made men believe they could treat women so horribly? How dare Mal try to give his Maggie to his men. If the man had not run off like a coward, Flynn would be first in line to gut him. “I am sorry for all you have been through, my love.” Flynn turned and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and inhaling her sweet floral scent.

  “I was so afraid,” she murmured against his chest, then pressed her ear to his heart. “I thought Reaghan truly meant to force himself on me, but as soon as Mal and the other guards left us, he released me. And, I slapped him.”

  Flynn’s laughter rumbled low in his chest. “That’s my feisty wee lass,” he said before kissing the top of her head.

  “Nobody has ever referred to me as ‘feisty’ before,” she giggled, and looked up at him. Her golden hair lit up in the light of the dying bonfire and her blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “You are feisty,” he assured her. “You are spirited, brave, strong, and a true survivor. And if I am the only man in the world who sees this, then I am truly the most fortunate man alive.”

  “What are we to do with Mal’s remaining men?” someone asked Tuathal from the crowd of warriors surrounding him.

  “We take them prisoner. At one time, I would have invited them to join my ranks, but these men are the shite on the bottom of my boot who turned their backs on a true chance to fight for right. I stand for Ériu. They stand for power and greed. I say they use that power to our benefit by serving as our slaves.” Flynn could not help but agree with Tuathal, and based on the murmurs of approval all around, everyone else agreed. When he had first won the war against the false High King Elim Mac Conrach, Tuathal gave all enemy warriors a chance to fight for him, to defend Ériu alongside her rightful heir. Most men had willingly agreed. As Tuathal had expected, those men had been forced to fight by their tyrannical leader at the time. Elim would have killed a man and all his family if he felt the slightest bit of resistance. Not surprisingly, those men had been more than willing to fight under a true leader and for a better cause once Elim was defeated.

  These men, however, the ones who still fought for Mal, were the ones who never truly had Ériu’s best interests at heart. Nay, they wanted land, power, and riches, never minding whose blood they spilled to obtain it. Each of them deserved to be enslaved and forced to toil the land they had betrayed. Flynn also knew that, even though being a slave could mean abuse, starvation, and even death at the hands of a cruel master, Tuathal was not that man. He would make these men work hard and keep a close eye on them, but he would treat them fairly, as human beings. Tuathal was no tyrant, and that was precisely why he earned respect from his men.

  “Maggie!” Àdhamh ran out of the group of warriors beginning to round up Mal’s men when he saw Maggie enfolded safely within Flynn’s grasp.

  “Brother!” she laughed, when she saw him coming her way. Releasing Flynn, she ran into her brother’s arms and shrieked with delight as he swung her around. “You are hale?” she asked, and he gently put her down on the ground.

  “Aye, that I am. My wife is safe at home with my child in her womb and my wee sister is safe in the arms of a good man.” He hugged her close and winked at Flynn over her shoulder.

  Flynn’s heart soared to have Maggie’s elder brother’s approval. It mattered to him that Àdhamh respected him and trusted him with his sister. Grabbing Maggie’s hand, Àdhamh walked over to Flynn and Brennain, bowing his head in greeting. “I have been an arse and I wish to apologize. My sister means everything to me, as you know, and I would do aught for her. Years of protecting her turned me into a man who refused to let her go, but she has chosen a fine man and I cannot speak for her decision to marry you or not, but I can say that I do support your marriage.”

  A sense of peace washed over Flynn. He wanted to whisk Maggie away and beg her to marry him right now, but he was still a warrior and Mal had left behind a score or more of men who needed to be detained. Now, surrounded by death and violence, was not the time to beg her once more to marry him. Though every part of him longed to carry her away into the deserted forest and make sweet love to her, he knew he must wait. To have Àdhamh’s blessing would have to suffice, for now.

  Looking over Àdhamh’s shoulder, Flynn saw that bastard Reaghan walking toward them with his arrogant stride. He knew the man was loyal to Tuathal, but he had been out of line when he licked Maggie’s cheek before, then kissed her in that tent. Maggie had been frightened, and that made Flynn want to injure the lout.

  “What do you want?” Flynn barked at the man as he stepped into their circle.

  Reaghan cocked an arrogant brow, which only annoyed Flynn further. “I came to make my peace with you. We are on the same side, after all.”

  “I wonder why you assume we must make peace?” Flynn stepped forward and fisted his hands, trying his best to not punch the fool in the nose. “Mayhap because you held a knife to my lass’s throat? Or because you licked her cheek and frightened her? Or perhaps because you kissed her in the tent?” Flynn groused. Aye, he was definitely growing closer and closer to pummeling the man with every second that passed.

  With a scoff, Reaghan shook his head. “You know as well as I that I had nay choice but to pretend she was my captive. I am sorry she was frightened, but I did what had to be done for my king. I kept her safe and, in case she did not inform you, she already paid me back for that kiss. My jaw still aches from the sting of her palm,” Reaghan said, and he rubbed the tender spot. “Had I not been there to protect her, much worse would have happened.”

  Flynn did not want to think on that. He was still fuming at the memory of the man licking her. “Did you need to run your tongue up her cheek?” Flynn asked through clenched teeth.

  A thoughtful look crossed Reaghan’s face and he tapped his finger to his lips in mock contemplation. “Nay, I suppose I did not need to do that. I simply got lost in the moment and—”

  “Wrong answer!” Flynn’s right hook flew straight at the bastard’s nose and he reveled in the sound of the man’s cartilage cracking with the force of his rage.

  “Flynn!” Maggie wailed, and tried to step forward, but Brennain held her back and whispered something about “allowing the men to work it out” in her ear. Fortunately, she listened.

  Reaghan, to Flynn’s astonishment, took his punishment rather well, holding on to his bleeding nose with one hand as he nodded in understanding. “Aye, I deserved that,” he conceded.

  “Aye, you did,” Flynn agreed. Then he put his arm out to Reaghan and begrudgingly smirked. “My thanks for keeping my Maggie safe. I owe you a debt.”

  “Fine way of showing it,” Reaghan said wryly, before putting a hand out to clasp Flynn’s outstretched forearm.

  With that, their peace was made. Now that Flynn had successfully defended his woman’s honor, he had other business to tend to, such as helping to round up Mal’s men. Then, he would find time to speak to Tuathal about his position as an informant. No matter what, he was determined to convince Maggie to marry him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As soon as Mal’s remaining men were secured within a few larger tents and well-guarded, Tuathal decided that they would do best to use the deserted camp for the night. It was slightly past midnight before everyone settled in, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before heading back to Ráth Mór in the morning. Once Flynn found Maggie safe in Mal’s camp, he refused to let her out of his sight. While she did no
t mind one bit being in his presence, they never truly had a private moment to discuss their future. Furthermore, Maggie had something of great import she wished to discuss with King Tuathal, and to do so, she needed to find a way to leave Flynn’s side. Based on his grip around her waist as he securely held her on his lap, Flynn was not going to let her get away so easily.

  Maggie could not help the fluttering in her stomach. She would marry Flynn Mac Greine. He was loyal, kind, hardworking, yet gentle… and the most handsome man she had ever known. And he wanted her. Gods help her, she wanted him with a fierceness that consumed her body in flames and her mind with thoughts that would send her elder brother into a fit of rage.

  Àdhamh and Reaghan sat across from Maggie and Flynn around the fire, with Brennain, Alastar, Jeoffrey, Freyne, and Eoin also close by, enjoying the flickering of the dying flames.

  “I was so worried about you, Mags. I cannot tell you how my heart squeezed in my chest when I saw… him,” he shot look of disgust at Reaghan, “holding you captive. I know he is not the enemy and we made our peace. Still, the image of that dagger to your throat haunts me. Then your terrified screams inside the tent. Och, I thought I had lost you ten times over this day. I never want to be away from you again,” he murmured in her ear, causing chills to race up her spine. He cherished her in a way that she never thought possible and she loved how openly he shared his affections with her.

  “I never wish to leave your side either,” she whispered back, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Maggie wished to shout her love for him and proclaim that she would marry him, but she still had unfinished business with Tuathal. “However, the night grows late. We must get some rest before our journey home.”

  “Then allow me to carry you to our tent.” Flynn said suggestively with a waggle of his brows.

  Maggie gave him a reprimanding look. “We shall be sharing a tent with many men, including my brother who will likely lay between the two of us and sleep with one eye open. I do not believe we can do aught in such cramped, occupied quarters. Furthermore, I do know how to walk. You need not carry me.”

  “What if I wish to carry you?” Flynn retorted, leaning in to nibble on her throat. He felt so good. His touch put her under a spell, and caused her to lose all sense. She could almost see herself hiking her skirt up to her waist, straddling his lap and taking him now, forgetting anyone else existed. But, nay. And though they were surrounded by men, she knew Flynn would not relent so easily. She had to come up with an excuse to leave his side that he could not deny her. “You wish to carry me to the place where I shall relieve myself?” She smiled wickedly and tilted her head.

  With a sigh of resignation, Flynn loosened his grip on her waist to allow her up. “I shall not be long, mo chroí,” she said as she ran her hand through the dark stubble across his strong jaw. “I love you, Flynn.” With that, she hopped off his lap and ventured toward a distant and thickly wooded area where he would believe she was… busy.

  But once she knew he had started up a conversation with Alastar around the fire, Maggie swung back around to the cluster of tents where she knew Tuathal was staying with a few of his men to guard their prisoners. As late as it was, and as much as they needed rest, it seemed few men actually slept. Mal running off had been a blow to Tuathal. Though much bloodshed was prevented and none of their own had been killed, it felt like failure. For several moons, Flynn watched Mal from a distance, gathering information and traveling back to Tuathal. It had been a balance requiring enough information and correct timing. Just when Tuathal decided the time was right to snuff out Mal once and for all, Eoghann had infiltrated their lives, stealing information for Mal and learning all of Tuathal’s plans.

  These were the games men played during war, and yet none of it was a game at all to Maggie. It made her feel ill to think of Flynn gone for sennights at a time, risking his life… and for what? For Mal to flee once more? How long would it take to track Mal down again? Would Flynn be sent to find him? This last question was the very one burning into her mind, and it was the reason she needed to speak to her king.

  Whispered voices could be heard coming from within a large tent just ahead of her, and two large men stood guard. Swallowing her trepidation, Maggie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. If she could fell a large warrior with just her knee, and take another down with the flick of her wrist, certainly she could manage a conversation with her intimidating king.

  Both guards ignored her as she approached. This only added to her determination. Wee woman or not, she was the best cursed healer in all Ériu and she had saved one of their best warriors with her skills. Och, she had saved the very man standing before her now, averting his gaze as if she were not worth the effort of a simple acknowledgment. “Greetings, Findmall.” The two brothers guarding Tuathal now, Findmall and Fiacha, had grown up with Tuathal while he was in exile in Alba. When Tuathal had been ready to claim his rightful place as the High King of Ériu, it had been these two brothers who journeyed to Ériu first, learning the land and later guiding the way for Tuathal. Without their help, he may not have ever succeeded with his plans. But, without Maggie, Findmall would have died from an infected wound. Perhaps the man had forgotten this and needed a reminder. “How is your leg?” she asked sweetly, raising a brow in question.

  Findmall cleared his throat, but kept his gaze straight ahead. Fiacha, fortunately, was not as stubborn as his brother. “He still limps, but he lives, thanks to your healing touch, Maggie.” Fiacha’s praise made her smile and she was suddenly overcome with a sense of pride. Several moons ago, when she had been brought to Findmall’s side to help him, she had been internally terrified of the large, imposing brothers. Either one of them could snap her in half like a twig. They frightened her terribly not so long ago, yet here she was with her shoulders held high, a sense of self-worth and dignity bolstering her bravery. Nay, these men were not so frightening after all.

  “’Tis my greatest pleasure to heal the ill or wounded. I am most glad he is well. Now, I would like to please speak with King Tuathal,” she said with a smile.

  Findmall snorted. “Not happening. He is inside with his advisors.”

  “And, you are not one of them, Findmall? Fallen from favor, have you?” she jibed. He always had a serious and sour disposition. It used to intimidate her. Now, she found it most entertaining to try to break through his aloof personality. His brother sniggered and winked at her, causing Findmall to bristle.

  “You have a cheeky tongue, healer.” Findmall groused.

  “Her name is Maggie,” she heard through the thin tent fabric as the front flap opened wide enough for Maggie to see King Tuathal surrounded by his advisors, the three husbands of the Sisters of Danu. Liam and Garreth were Flynn’s uncles, and Liam was also Tuathal’s father by marriage. Flynn’s huge father, Brocc Mac Greine, smiled widely when he saw her standing outside, then faltered when he saw her shiver.

  “Findmall! You left Maggie out in the cold to shiver? I shall inform my son about your improper treatment of his future wife.” His voice held no true threat, yet Findmall’s eyes grew wide and he frowned. Findmall feared Flynn? She had come to know him as a gentle lover and kind soul, but she supposed, to other men, he was quite fierce and intimidating with his size and skills on the battlefield. Few knew of the role he played as an informant for Tuathal, but he was always at the king’s side, which must give him quite the reputation. Factor in that he was a son of one of the legendary Sisters of Danu, son of a king who was also well known as a descendant of the first High Kings of Ériu, and she supposed Flynn could send terror into any man… even one as arrogant as Findmall.

  “She has not yet agreed to marry the lad, have you, Maggie?” Garreth said with a wide grin and a shove at his brother by marriage. Liam grunted and winked at her, flashing a handsome smile and two dimples her way. The three men must be nearing their fiftieth year, yet all of them still appeared to be made of stone with their strong builds and robust health. Aside from the gray strands sh
immering in their hair and a few laugh lines around their eyes, they seemed youthful and filled with spirit. Perhaps being married to the three Sisters of Danu had kept them happy all these years. They were all rumored to hold their wives in the very highest regard, counting them as equals and openly doting on them. Was that why Flynn had no issues about attempting to ravish her publicly? It seemed to be in his blood, his own father having openly chased his mother, Una. for many moons before she finally gave in. Aye, Flynn was born from a powerful love and she felt her cheeks warm, knowing that same love flowed through him, into her, enveloping them both in a heat that knocked them on their backsides.

  “Do not tease my future daughter. She may well be the only daughter I ever have. You have three of your own, Liam. Do not chase mine away!” Brocc guffawed, and she blushed even brighter. He already considered her a daughter? She had hardly spoken to him in all the time she was at Ráth Mór, due to her cursed fear of men. Now, she was surrounded by large men and all she felt was love and respect for them, and from them in return.

  “Maggie. You wished to speak with me?” Tuathal said gently, scowling playfully at his advisors.

  “Aye, my king… if it is not poor timing. It is rather… private.”

  Raising his brow, he got the hint and shooed his three rambunctious family members out of his tent. Before Brocc left, he looked down at her and smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Flynn has never shown an interest in any lass before you. I knew he would love a lass one day, but I never expected him to love the way he loves you,” Flynn’s father nodded and left the tent. Her heart fluttered even more, if it were possible. It was as if a hundred butterflies took flight within her, making her feel light and tingly all over.

  “Have a seat, Maggie,” Tuathal offered, gesturing to a small stump of wood near the center of the tent. He sat beside her on another stump. “What can I do for you?”