Still ogling Nioclas, Bri had to agree.
• • •
“The women are under the benches,” Aidan said as he bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for Nioclas to finish his drink. Admiring his sword, he added, “Been there for about ten minutes or so. I give them another twenty before they get cold and head back into the castle.”
Nioclas sighed. “I’m unsurprised. Does Erin still think no one knows about her forays into the lists?”
Aidan shrugged and quickly crossed swords with his brother. “Of course. I’m certainly not going to tell her. She’ll skewer me on the end of her sewing needle whilst I sleep.”
“Are you that afraid of a wee lass?” Nioclas mocked, jumping back and just avoiding the tip of Aidan’s blade. He grinned. “I don’t think Donovan has much trouble with her.”
“Oh, I’m sure Donovan has complete control over his wife,” Aidan replied, and they both grinned as they hacked away at each other. “I don’t think he’s ever been privy to the full extent of Erin’s talents, though.”
Nioclas ducked and rolled out of Aidan’s path, springing back up and crossing blades once more. “I—oof—doubt he would’ve agreed to marry her, had he known.”
“Marriage. I don’t envy you, brother. Shackled for life. I hope she is worth it.” Aidan ducked, narrowly avoiding the flat of Nioclas’s blade, then spun to avoid it again. “Saints, Nick, I was only—oof—is there something you care to talk about?” he asked sardonically as Nioclas’s attack intensified.
“No,” Nioclas replied curtly, swinging his arm relentlessly.
“Hmm. I believe there’s a tale there.” Aidan plunged his sword toward his brother, who leapt backward.
“None I care to tell you,” Nioclas replied, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Well, you’re putting on quite a show for her.” They circled each other. “Mayhap this will be a love match yet—” Aidan’s sword went flying. He watched, open-mouthed, as it soared through the air. Someone called out, and men scattered as the blade went hilt-over-tip, landing about twenty feet from where they stood.
He looked at his brother in alarm. Nioclas had never bested him by forcing his sword from his hand. That was something they’d agreed long ago was unnecessary between them. War was never far, and neither wanted the other without his sword if it broke.
“Love is for fools,” Nioclas growled before stalking off.
It was a rare thing for Nioclas to lose his temper, especially in the lists. Bemused, Aidan watched him go, then threw a wink over to the source of his brother’s obvious discomfort.
Smirking at the feminine gasps, Aidan collected his sword and sauntered off.
Chapter 12
“Is it so bad, then?”
Nioclas rubbed his temples as Aidan entered, unbidden, into his solar. “Truly, brother, you’ve no wish to know.”
Aidan furrowed a brow. “Contrary. I very much wish to know. You’ve never thrown my sword, nor walked off a field before training was done for the day. That’s the third time this week. I vow my lips are sealed with whatever you choose to tell me.”
Nioclas swallowed his ale and sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw.
“Is it so bad, then?” Aidan repeated.
“Aye.” Nioclas stood from his seat and paced the solar, then slammed his fists on the table. Aidan didn’t flinch. “I made a bargain with her.”
“What kind?”
“A fool’s kind. If she married me, thus relieving me of having to marry the Kildare lass, I’d ensure she got back to her home in three months.”
“Nick!” Aidan exclaimed. “O’Rourke will have your head spiked on his gates! Sending a wife back to her clan rescinds clan alliance. You’re asking for battle!”
“No.” Nioclas shook his head. “No, I mean her real home. She isn’t from Ireland. I believe her to be from France.”
“She’s not an O’Rourke?”
“She is. She looks just like Kathryne did when she was younger. But she lived somewhere else, with O’Malley, for the whole of her life. Her accent is…odd.”
“She doesn’t sound French,” Aidan replied skeptically.
“You would know, as you’ve been there more often than I,” Nioclas agreed. “France seems the most likely. If she were from Italy, her skin would be darkened from the sun.”
“She sounds nothing like the Italian woman you entertained last year,” Aidan replied with a small smile. “Although I doubt you did much talking with her.”
Nioclas ignored him. “She’s Irish by birth, but that’s all.”
“Something else about her?”
Nioclas gave a small laugh. “Aye, there’s more. Unbelievable, really.”
“Nothing’s unbelievable in Ireland,” Aidan quipped.
Nioclas met his brother’s eyes. “Remember the dreams?”
Aidan froze.
“Aye. Those dreams…the ones I had for years.” Nioclas ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “Brianagh is that woman.”
“Saints above,” Aidan whispered. “Truly?”
“I wouldn’t be saying it if it weren’t true,” Nioclas snapped, then immediately relented. “I sound daft enough when I say it in my mind—saying it aloud only makes it worse.”
“When did you know?”
“Almost immediately.” Nioclas picked up a quill from the table and examined it. “After Kiernan told her she was to marry me, I asked her for a walk. I was going to allow her to stay on as part of the clan, as O’Rourke was adamant she remain here to fulfill their damn legacy. When she spoke… There was no doubt. ’Twas that odd accent.” Nioclas’s eyes were tortured. “I knew her voice, Aidan. I saw her in my dreams for years, but until I heard her voice, I wasn’t certain. I don’t know if that means she’s cursed…or I am.”
“You don’t believe in curses,” Aidan pointed out.
“I didn’t,” Nioclas agreed. “Until this past week, which has given me nothing but an ache in my head. I thought I could avoid her, then send her on her way, but I suspect that won’t be enough for the elders to believe I love her.” He set his jaw. “It doesn’t help that she is—was—betrothed.”
Aidan raised a brow.
“She wants to return to him and has agreed to give me three months.”
“So…you’re not married in the truest sense, then.”
“Nay,” Nioclas muttered.
Aidan fought a smile. “The MacWilliam. The MacWilliam, who can have any woman with a crook of his finger, can’t get his wife to look his way?” Nioclas fisted his hand, and Aidan held up both of his. “Easy, brother. I merely meant to say that, if you want the wench, then woo her. You have everything you need to do so. Make her forget about the other man. Your reputation precedes you—’tis easily done.”
“Your reputation is much the same,” Nioclas shot back.
“All true.” Aidan fell silent as Nioclas stared into the fire.
“I find myself at a loss,” Nioclas finally admitted. “Our mother…she came to me in that dream the day she died.”
Aidan nodded. “She told you how to succeed over Burke. She gave you the words you needed to convince the elders you were different—no boy can come up with those thoughts himself.” Aidan joined him at the fire and placed a hand on Nioclas’s arm. “You always believed she sent you the woman in those dreams, and you now have that woman in your castle. She’s here for a reason.”
“You always did believe her tales.”
“And yet you’re the one she sent the dreams to. I find humor in that.”
“You always have.”
“I know.” Aidan slapped his brother on the back. “Donovan and I will keep an eye on your lady-wife while you figure out your plan of attack. Don’t take too long. She’s a beauty, and an O’Rourke, rumored to be the key piece to the O’Rourke legacy. There are many in the castle who would try to woo her from you if it’s believed you’re not interested.”
“I’
m aware. She’s not the key to a legacy,” Nioclas warned.
“Maybe not,” Aidan agreed. “But she’s the key to something.”
• • •
After hours of searching for Nioclas, Brianagh finally gave up. He didn’t want to be found. So, executive decision time. She approached Donovan as sweetly as she could and asked for an escort into the village.
“Why would you want to go into the village?” he asked incredulously. “It’s outside the castle walls. I beg you to think about this, Lady Brianagh.”
“I wonder if your teeth ache?”
He blinked. “Sorry?”
“Your teeth. Do they ache after you’ve eaten your bread here?”
Donovan tried not to smile but failed. “They did, until my own cook was brought over. He arrived yesterday.”
“That’s exactly why I need to go into the village,” Brianagh replied triumphantly. “Your cook and the MacWilliam cook do not get along. But there is a woman in the village who, according to clanswomen in the castle, can make any food palatable. And her bread is free from rocks.” Leaning in, she whispered, “I need that woman—her name is Keela—in here before you leave with your cook. Yours needs to show Keela the best way to prepare food for a castle.”
Donovan reluctantly smiled. “Nick doesn’t know, does he?”
Brianagh wrinkled her nose. “Well, he would, if he were ever around. Because he isn’t, I’ve made the decision for him. Will you take me to the village? The guardsman will let me pass with you as an escort.”
“Aye, I’ll take you.” Donovan nodded. “But we’ll take a guard with us. Can’t be too careful with the lady of the clan.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Bri said nervously, visions of Burke’s pit dancing across her mind.
“I don’t think you’d like the outcome, were I to let you outside castle gates without one,” Donovan replied over his shoulder as he trotted down the hall. “Gather your cloak and meet me at the stables.”
A few minutes later, she mounted her horse, and with Donovan leading and a bunch of large men surrounding them, the guardsman at the portcullis finally let her through.
She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
They crossed the drawbridge, and a moment later, Donovan reigned in next to her. “’Tis dangerous outside castle walls. The forest to our north—” He jerked his head to the left, where, about a mile out, a thick crop of trees stood. “—holds beasties and enemies. The village is to the south, this way. It’s protected by the sea to one side, and the castle on its other…but Nick will have your head on his gates if you venture forth without a guard.”
“Beasties?”
Donovan slid her a look. “Aye. Animals with sharp antlers, or those with unworldly roots.”
Brianagh blinked. Is he referring to mythical creatures? Bri thought, blinking in surprise. Reilly always told her Irish myths, and a beast of some sort was usually present, but he never mentioned people fully believed them.
Instead of voicing her thoughts, Bri turned her horse south. “So the village is in between the castle and the sea? I thought castles were supposed to overlook the ocean, not turn away from it.”
“’Tis difficult to see enemies approach from land if one’s gazing at the water.” Donovan smiled kindly at her. “I believe your solar lies in the east wing of the castle. ’Tis no wonder you haven’t seen the village, or the sea. You should ask Nick to change the room. Erin claims there’s no sunset in all of Eire like the MacWilliam sunset.” They meandered away from the gates, staying close to the outer castle wall. “Which cottage does your Keela live in?”
Brianagh shrugged. “The women in the kitchens say she lives in the white cottage on the edge of the village.”
Donovan frowned. “The village is large, with many white cottages.”
“How large?”
He raised his brow. “One of the largest in Ireland.” At her surprised look, he smiled. “Your husband is one of the most powerful lairds on this isle. The English crown is forever after him, trying to buy his allegiance. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of how much your country covets his land.”
“I’m not from England,” she laughed, but stopped abruptly as they rounded the castle.
Brianagh’s breath caught. Spread before her in varying shades of green despite the winter chill were patches of farmland marked with low stone walls and dotted with sheep and cattle. The village itself sprawled to the right of the farmland, with a grassy village center filled with people. Row upon row of small cottages were arranged around the village center like spokes on a wheel. And beyond all that beauty lay the sea, sparkling in the late afternoon sun, small boats bobbing peacefully.
Something shifted in Brianagh. She suspected it might be her soul, sighing with content.
“Wow,” she whispered, halting her horse.
“Surely, you’ve seen such villages in France.”
“I’ve never been to France,” she replied, still awed by the spectacular view, thus missing the skeptical look that passed over Donovan’s face.
“So if you’re not from England, nor from France, I must wonder where you spent your childhood. Your Gaelic is uncommonly good.”
“I lived in a very small country on the continent,” she replied uncomfortably, giving her horse a nudge. “I’ve, ah, never met a person who’s heard of it, so its name is no matter. And my cousin taught me Gaelic from a very young age.”
Suspicions raised, Donovan drew his brows together but followed her down the sloping hill with his tongue held.
When they reached the village, the first thing Bri noticed was the smell of peat fire. It permeated the air, enveloping her in a sweet, familiar comfort. Reilly always had peat fires in his Irish cottage, back home. She noticed the men returning from the direction of the field, and people gathering in the center.
“What’s going on?” Brianagh asked as they neared the crowd. They were the only ones on horseback, so she slid off hers and held tightly to the reins. “You weren’t kidding. This is a lot of people.”
“’Tis almost the pagan new year,” Donovan explained, removing himself from his own horse. “Nick sees no harm in allowing his people to celebrate however they wish, even if celebrating a new year at the end of December is seen as heathen.”
“Why would it be considered heathen?” Bri asked. “January first is the new year…right?”
Donovan shrugged. “Depends on who you ask. English crown thinks it’s mid-March—that’s what their religious tome indicates.”
“The Bible?”
His eyebrows nearly fell off his face in surprise. “Aye! How would you know about the Bible? Have you seen it?”
Prevaricating, Brianagh shrugged, unsure as to her answer. Books probably weren’t all that common in the 1400s—she had yet to see one in the castle, although there was plenty of parchment and ink.
“We do things differently here,” Donovan said mildly, although Brianagh could feel his eyes boring into her. She continued walking without answering. He went on. “If others found out, the MacWilliam clan may have difficulty in explaining their actions.”
Brianagh lifted her own eyebrow at him. “Laird Maguire, I assure you that I have no interest in what other clans may or may not celebrate. I just want to find Keela, ask her my question, and return home.”
Strange words, strange accent, and strange joy at seeing a village. Donovan thought it might be time to talk with his closest ally about his new wife.
• • •
“You have to woo her.”
Nioclas, to his credit, didn’t miss a step. He merely continued on his way, content to let Erin badger him in a way only she could.
“Nick, listen to me! Bri is going crazy in there. She’s not used to our way of life, and you haven’t done much to convince her that you’re an amiable husband.”
He did stop then and turned to her, his stomach sinking slightly. Keeping his face impassive, he raised a supercilious brow. “
Are you so sure?” he drawled, letting his meaning crystallize. If the clan didn’t think he had consummated the marriage, it wasn’t going to go well for him when Brianagh left.
He felt the relief course through his body as Erin’s face drained of color.
“Well…um, I don’t know about that. But outside of your closed doors.” She nodded briskly. “Aye. Outside of closed doors, she’s quite miserable.”
Nioclas paused. Brianagh had seemed fine to him, but he really wasn’t near her during the day all that much. He’d seen small changes in the castle—his castle did appear much cleaner when he ate his supper, and the general chaos he encountered in the moments before it was served had disappeared. He figured she’d been keeping herself busy somehow.
“I might remind you that you have a reputation to consider,” Erin added, the blush rising to her cheeks.
He choked. “What? How do you—”
“I’m not deaf!” she exclaimed. “And I’ll remind you I’m a married woman now.”
“You’ve been married for half a year,” Nioclas pointed out, “and that does not make you the most knowledgeable in this area.”
Nioclas couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Erin, of all people. She was like a little sister to him, and while he certainly wasn’t against her and Donovan together, he had no wish to think about it anymore than he had to.
Which was never.
Besides, he’d already determined that, while he wanted Brianagh in his bed, getting her there was a bad idea indeed. If she carried his child, even more complications would arise, and he’d never be able to bring her back to her home, which would mean he’d have to break a vow. He never broke vows.
“I like her, Nick,” Erin said firmly. “She’s clever and capable of running this whole clan if she’s just shown our ways. I think she’s going to make an excellent lady for the MacWilliams, but don’t forget that we all know you. We all know of your, um, prowess. And we all have eyes. We can see that you stay away from each other, and that you don’t share a room, even though you’re newly wed.”
The Winter Laird Page 11
