Nioclas had to concede the point. Erin was the most outspoken among the clan—and he had a very outspoken clan—and she would be the only one brave enough to tell him the truth.
And the truth was, after one week of marriage, the ruse wasn’t exactly convincing.
If his clan leaders thought him to be unhappily married and then his wife disappeared after only a few short months, they would never believe him to be so in love with her that he could never attempt marriage again. He needed a plan, and he needed one fast. “Where is she now?”
“She went to the village.”
Nioclas’s jaw clenched. “Who let her out of the gates?”
“She went with Donovan and some others,” Erin replied. “She tried to find you all morning but was unsuccessful, so she asked Donovan to take her.”
“Is he a fool?” Nioclas asked angrily. “He knows what is out there!”
“You do Donovan a dishonor by thinking he wouldn’t keep your wife safe.”
“I stole a woman from my sire’s pathetic excuse of a dungeon. When it comes to Burke, honor has nothing to do with it. You best of all know that.”
Erin swallowed visibly. “Donovan took seven men. His personal guard.”
Nioclas blew out a breath. “You said it yourself, Erin. She’s not used to our way of life. She may have little knowledge of the dangers.”
Erin nodded. “She has asked me some rather interesting questions about everyday life. I believe she was sheltered by her cousin. I doubt she’s seen battle or wars.”
“If she’s never seen bloodshed, I do hope her first experience with it isn’t with your husband skewered on my sword,” Nioclas muttered, his mind racing.
“Nick!” Erin exclaimed as he spun on his heel and took off across the hall. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t bother answering. He could not afford to lose Brianagh. Well, lose her before I’ve a chance to convince the clan we’re a love match, he hastily amended. And he couldn’t take the chance she’d be killed by his fool of a father, either. No lass deserved that kind of an end. His jaw set in a determined line, he motioned to his own personal guards, then saddled his mount and rode out of the castle gates.
Chapter 13
As they rode back to the castle, Brianagh couldn’t stop smiling. Keela had been overjoyed to come to the castle. Brianagh still had the unenviable task of firing the current cook, but that had to wait until after dinner. She didn’t want that man to spit on her food.
“I believe we’re late for the meal,” Donovan commented as they rode through the portcullis and spied Nioclas standing on the step, his arms crossed and his face forbidding.
Brianagh gulped audibly.
“Oh, he’s not that bad,” Donovan said, urging his horse forward. “Especially when he finds out what you were about.”
Nioclas waited approximately three seconds from when she dismounted to stalk over to her. “What do you think you were doing in the village, unattended?”
“Unattended?” she repeated. “Seven men plus Laird Maguire is unattended?”
“Where was your personal guard?”
Brianagh’s brows drew together. “My what?”
“Your personal guard, Brianagh!”
She exchanged a glance with Donovan. “I wasn’t aware I had a personal anything.”
“The guards who brought you back here. I’m certain I informed you not to go anywhere without them,” Nioclas replied tersely, his patience wearing thin.
“Oh? When would that have been? I’ve been looking for you since—”
“When I saw you in the village with naught but a handful of men, I rode back to the castle to summon your personal guard. However, I wonder if perhaps I should have simply hauled you back myself and saved the men the aggravation of your presence!”
Brianagh gasped, outraged. “You were spying on me?”
“Perhaps you ought to take this conversation to a more private chamber,” Donovan interrupted. Meeting Nioclas’s eyes, he raised a brow, then murmured something in his ear before going inside.
“You. My solar,” Nioclas growled before he stomped off.
She stomped after him. He wanted a fight? She was more than ready. She was seething. He’d left her alone in a castle full of strange people for an entire week, and he was angry at her?
Oh, she didn’t think so.
Slamming the solar door behind her, Brianagh threw her hands on her hips. “Might I remind you that you are not my keeper?” She took a step closer. “You offer me refuge and abandon me to the walls of your castle. Then, because my teeth hurt, I search for you for hours so I can fire your cook and get someone in here who knows what she’s doing.”
“Teeth? Fire a cook?”
“Don’t play word games with me right now,” she snarled. He blinked and took a step back; she closed the gap. Poking him in the chest, she continued. “You’re ensuring that I live in absolute hell for three months, and you think you can treat me like I’m one of your servants?” She glared at him, spitting fire and fury. “I am not your servant, or one of your clansmen you can order about. I am a means to an end—and you aren’t making any effort to show your clan that we’re anything but mortal enemies!”
Nioclas was fascinated by the fullness of her bottom lip. He knew it was a bad idea, but his fury was palpable when he’d learned Donovan had taken her from the castle walls with such inadequate protection. And he couldn’t quite let the feeling go. Her lips were in front of him, and though she was spouting nonsense, her voice brought him back to his dreams. Her tirade continued, each word accented by her small finger in his chest, and without warning, Nioclas shoved his hands into her hair and covered her mouth with his, crushing her to him.
It was as if he had come home.
Melting against him, the fight left her body as her arms lifted, settling on his shoulders as he continued his ruthless assault. He angled her head, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, and he felt a flare of triumph at her acquiescence.
Nioclas backed her against the cold stone of the wall, but Bri only felt heat. Fisting her hands in his hair, she kissed him back, reveling in the newfound feelings he awakened with his touch. His hands skimmed down her bodice—every touch burned through the fabric, seared her skin, forced her even higher in her response.
Nioclas trailed kisses down her neck, breathing in her scent as he freed the ties of her gown and slid a hand onto her smooth back. She gasped, and then her lips found his again as he moved his hand to her front.
“We are not enemies,” he said softly against her lips, dropping feathered kisses across them. Moving across her jaw and up to her ear, he whispered each word with a kiss. “You. Are. Not. My. Enemy.”
She shivered.
He ran his tongue over her neck while trailing his fingers up her skirts. Her answer was incoherent; she felt his smile against her neck. Distantly, she heard a bang, then another.
“Nioclas,” she managed before his lips claimed hers again.
The banging grew more insistent.
“I shall kill whomever it is with my hands,” he growled into her mouth. Reluctantly releasing her, he helped her tie her gown, then smoky-gray eyes met sapphire blue ones. “We will finish this.” Nioclas flung open the door. “What?” he barked.
“We need to speak with you immediately.”
“Who?”
“Your brother and I.”
Brianagh sneaked a peak around the door and sighed heavily when she saw Donovan and Aidan. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere, but that was probably a good thing. She lost all her senses when Nioclas touched her, and she reminded herself that she really didn’t want to go down that path with him.
Really. She was sure of it.
“I have to talk to cook anyway,” she said as she tried to walk out the door.
Nioclas caught her by the arm, and his stormy eyes burned into hers. “We will finish our own discussion tonight,” he said evenly, but the promise was clear.
She wrenched herself free and stormed out of the chamber, trying—unsuccessfully—to slam the door behind her. She sagged against the cool stone of the hallway wall.
What was that? she thought, covering her face with her hands and letting out a shudder. She choked back a sob as she tried to calm herself. Why did he have to kiss even better in real life? He was absolutely irresistible in her dreams, and he was frighteningly seductive outside of them.
Nioclas was the only man who ever stoked a response like that from her. She’d thought herself incapable of passion for her entire life. Now, with just a few kisses and touches…Brianagh was in serious trouble.
She couldn’t stay in medieval Ireland, but when her head was fogged with passion, she had a difficult time remembering why.
• • •
“The morning after your wedding, I sent for O’Malley,” Donovan said flatly.
“Why?” Nioclas asked. “I have no alliance with the O’Malleys.”
“I believe it’s time to know more about your lady-wife.”
Aidan almost spit his ale across the table. Nioclas merely raised a brow. He figured Donovan would come to him sooner or later. They worked together in all things, from battle to clan settlements. He would be suspicious had Donovan not raised concerns, but his timing was, as ever, awful.
“You interrupted my wife and me because you wish to know her better?” Nioclas asked mildly.
“Dammit, Nick, she’s not who she says she is! You told me you thought her from France. She says she’s never been. Her accent is strange, and though she speaks Gaelic, she also speaks the peasant’s English! When I took her to the village today, she used a curious mix, and I don’t think she knew she was doing it. She used words like kidding, but I couldn’t understand the reference to goats at all.”
“So you’re upset because she isn’t from France and made an obscure reference to goats.” Reilly appeared at the door, a bored look gracing his features and his arms crossed. “You had me travel all the way across Ireland, in November, just because you don’t have enough information about a lass?”
Donovan ignored him and directed his attention to Nioclas. “The English crown wants your allegiance. Burke wants you dead, as do many lairds, including Kildare, Clanricard, Cavan…the list is endless. Yet you marry an unknown lass, with an unknown history, on the word of an O’Rourke. It doesn’t make sense, Nick. She doesn’t make sense.” He turned to Reilly. “You owe us answers.”
Reilly closed the door and stood by the fire, warming himself. “Ask,” came the reply as Reilly blew on his hands. “But get me something hot to drink. It’s freezing out there.”
“Where is she from?” Donovan demanded.
“America.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You aren’t as well-traveled as some,” Reilly drawled. When Donovan reached for his sword, Reilly shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for your swordplay, Maguire. Ask me your questions so I can go to sleep. I’ll need a chamber,” he added, casting a glance at Nioclas. “I’m not sleeping on the floor of your great hall when so many rooms are unused.”
Nioclas merely raised a brow and silently crossed his arms.
“What clan does she claim?” Donovan pressed.
“O’Rourke.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Why does she look younger?”
“Because America is a nice place.”
Nioclas smiled into his cup; he could actually hear Donovan’s teeth grinding.
“What are you smiling about, you fool? Don’t you see she could take your clan down?”
Nioclas leaned forward, his eyes hardening. “She is harmless. I agreed to marry her a very long time ago. She was on the continent—America—for safety. She is here now. She’s an O’Rourke, my obligation is filled, and she poses no threat to me. She is but a woman, who herself admits to not having much of a relationship with her clan.”
“What about the Frenchman?” Aidan asked quietly. At Nioclas’s glare, he shook his head. “It’s important to know, Nick.”
“Frenchman?” Reilly asked.
“Matthew de Burgh.” Nioclas’s face hardened.
“Ah. De Burgh.”
Nioclas’s chest tightened. Even though he suspected it to be true, a small part of him had hoped she created him as a falsehood to keep him at arm’s length.
Reilly shrugged. “I’m surprised she even mentioned him. Truly, he means nothing to her. He can’t come here. His distance is too great.” He shot a meaningful look at Nioclas. “Much too great.”
Nioclas scoffed. He could believe the lass was from a country he’d never heard of, and he could believe that country was a great distance away. But O’Malley’s insinuation that de Burgh lived in a month or year not the same as now…well, he could only believe so much before sensibilities took control.
O’Malley claimed to be her protector, and though he’d used the same phrase Nioclas’s mother used when she visited Nioclas’s dreams, ’twas most likely happenstance.
Aidan blew out a breath. “So, Lady Brianagh MacWilliam, formerly O’Rourke, is a twenty-nine-year-old woman who can speak the peasant’s English as well as Gaelic—”
“And French, as well as some Spanish,” Reilly added. “She can also read all of it frighteningly well.”
“—and she has no ties to anyone except you,” Aidan finished.
“She also has a keen mind, owned her own trade in America, and made enough money to pay her workers and create a comfortable life.” Reilly folded his arms. “She is what we call a force of nature. Are we done here?”
“Trade?” Nioclas looked at him skeptically.
“Aye.”
Nioclas frowned. Well, that bit of knowledge would have been of aid before he spewed insulting words about it on their wedding night.
“Pray tell, what did she sell?” Donovan asked scornfully.
“You’ll have to ask Brianagh that. Where is she now? As I was tossed from the castle before speaking with her after her vows, I want to ensure she’s doing well.”
“She mentioned something about a cook,” Nioclas said to Aidan. “Did you see her when you went to the kitchens?”
Aidan shook his head. “No.”
“Shall I go look for her?” Reilly asked, draining his ale.
Nioclas shot him a glare. “Not without escort.”
“You’re more clever than I gave you credit for,” Reilly replied, standing. “Trusting me could really ruin your day.”
• • •
They heard the shouting before they even entered the kitchen. Reilly held up a hand, then whispered to Nioclas, “Watch your lady-wife and see how she handles herself. She’s had to release workers before. However, you can bet gold the person she’s chosen to replace him will serve you well.”
Donovan, Aidan, and Nioclas all watched from the side door of the kitchen. Brianagh and the cook were facing off. Her hands were placidly folded in front of her and she seemed resolved. The cook, however, was slamming things around as he cleaned up from the evening meal’s preparations.
“A few rocks won’t kill anybody!”
“I can appreciate how difficult your duty is here,” Brianagh said calmly, resting her hip on the work table. “Truly, Fergus, your skills with the livestock are impressive. I’ve seen the way you cut the meat. You’re so quick, and you do know the choice bits so well.”
“Aye,” Fergus replied sourly. “But then, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“What we really need,” Brianagh said thoughtfully, “is a butcher. Someone who can humanely—that is, nicely—kill the animals and remove the parts we don’t eat. Then, the butcher would take those parts, like the fur”—Nioclas saw her shudder—“and give it to the right person so we can make coverlets out of them. That sort of thing.”
Fergus looked intrigued.
“The problem is, I’m not sure what all those parts can be used for,”
Brianagh explained, sounding apologetic. She let out a little gasp. “But, Fergus—you do! You could be our castle butcher! Oh, please say you’ll do it!”
He looked a bit taken aback. “But who will cook the laird’s meals?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll find someone. But I know that Laird MacWilliam has said that no one else is allowed to put a knife to any beast unless you’re right there. He doesn’t want it to be spoiled.” She gave a conspiring nod to Fergus, whose chest puffed with pride.
“Well, my lady, since you’ve asked, of course I can help. As you said, I’m mighty fine with a knife and a beast!” Fergus stated proudly.
“Wonderful! Thank you, Fergus. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You’ve certainly earned it, doing the work of two people. Enjoy your wife, and do tell her I say hello. I met her days ago when she was hanging the washing. The woman is amazing at getting linens clean.”
“I’ll tell her you said so,” Fergus replied, a bit of awe in his voice.
“Oh, I’d be embarrassed.” Brianagh smiled. “Just the hello will do. Have a nice night, Fergus!”
“You too, my lady!” He bowed and scraped his way out of the kitchen. She turned and jumped at the sight of the four men standing at the side door.
“Holy cow, you scared the daylights out of me!” she yelped, placing a hand on her heart. Then her eyes landed on Reilly and her face lit up. “Ry!” She catapulted herself at him, and he caught her up easily, giving her a tight hug. “How are you? How did you get back?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. How are you? I see you haven’t cleaved this bastard’s head in two yet. That’s promising.” He held her out, inspecting her.
“I don’t think we should speak in English,” she whispered.
“It’s all right. These fools don’t speak it. We’re fine.” He grinned when he caught sight of the fury in Nioclas’s eyes. Reilly pulled Brianagh under his arm. “How’s married life?”
She drew her brows together. “Well…”
“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Still holding out on him. That’s good. Make him earn it.”
The Winter Laird Page 12
