Lords of Eire: An Irish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Even just a few weeks ago, no one knew if Bric would be capable of continuing his duties at Narborough as he had. No one knew what the future would hold but, these days, the future was bright and beautiful as far as Eiselle was concerned.

  Bric was back, as strong as he ever was, and she loved watching him work with the men. It made her heart swell with pride. She was so fixated on Bric that she hardly noticed Mylo as he walked in front of her, heading towards the troop house. He said something to her but she didn’t respond, so he stopped and said it again. Only then did Eiselle realize he was speaking to her and she grinned, embarrassed that he’d caught her daydreaming.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not hear you, Mylo.”

  Mylo smiled. “I know,” he said. “Bric often has that same look when it comes to you.”

  Eiselle thought that was a sweet observation. “And he does not hear you, either?”

  “Sometimes, he does not. I am coming to think it does no good to speak to either of you these days.

  Eiselle giggled. “Again, my apologies,” she said. “I did hear your voice, but not your words. If you greeted me, then I shall say good morn to you, but if you did not greet me, then give me a moment to pretend I know what you said. I will figure something out.”

  It was Mylo’s turn to laugh. “Not to worry, Lady MacRohan,” he said. “I know that you are watching Bric and that is exactly where your attention should be. I simply wished you a good day.”

  Eiselle dipped her head politely, smiling at the man as he walked away. She liked Mylo; he was easy-going, and very humorous when the mood struck him, and she honestly couldn’t see a man like that married to a woman like Angela, but she’d never asked why he married her. As she pondered Mylo being married to a very odd woman, a voice suddenly caught her off guard.

  “Greetings, Lady MacRohan.”

  She yelped, startled that Bric had snuck up beside her while she hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as she saw who it was, she giggled uncontrollably.

  “You startled me,” she gasped, hand on her chest as if to still her frazzled heart. “I did not see you approach.”

  Bric stood next to her, his eyes twinkling. “I know,” he said. “You were too busy looking at Mylo, whom I shall now have to kill because he has your attention.”

  Eiselle wrapped her hands around his big forearm in an affectionate gesture. “He does not have my attention,” she said. “If you must know, I was wondering how a nice man like Mylo is married to a woman like Angela. That marriage puzzles me.”

  Bric’s gaze flicked over to Mylo, who was still walking away. “There is no great mystery,” he said. “It was arranged. And Angela seemed like a nice enough lass when she first came to Narborough. It was after she gave birth to that brat that her manner changed.”

  Eiselle nodded in understanding. But she didn’t want to talk about Mylo and Angela. She was far more interested in her husband and her grip on him tightened as she smiled up at him.

  In public for all to see, this was the most affection they would display. No hugging, no kissing, because as Bric explained it once, that was something only for the two of them to experience. He didn’t want to share his happiness with everyone at Narborough. But Eiselle couldn’t keep her hands off him, making it very difficult for Bric not to reciprocate.

  “Then I feel sorry for Mylo,” she said. “But I do not wish to speak of him. I would like to speak of you; has your day been pleasant so far?”

  He smiled down at her. God, it was so incredibly easy to swallow her up in his arms and kiss her until she swooned, and he found himself fighting off the urge. His arms fairly ached to hold her.

  “It has been uneventful,” he said. “Some of the new recruits are as stupid as tree stumps, so progress has been slow. With all of the men who were put out of commission at Holdingham, we desperately need healthy men to fill their positions, so it is going to take some work to make these men battle-ready.”

  Eiselle’s smile faded. “And you?” she asked quietly. “Do you feel battle-ready?”

  He lifted his big shoulders, averting his gaze. “I am always battle-ready,” he said. “I was born with a sword in my hand. That has not changed.”

  Eiselle hoped that was the truth. She, too, had heard the whispers around Narborough, that MacRohan didn’t seem himself after his devastating injury, and some men were even saying that the fearless knight was no longer fearless. But she had never repeated what she’d heard to Bric because she honestly didn’t believe it. The High Warrior had not lost his fearlessness; she would stake her life on it. But not having been around Bric very much before his injury, she didn’t really know the man and his manner prior to that event, so all she could go on was his reputation and what she saw these days.

  What she saw was a man who went about his duties, a man who was, and ever would be, de Winter’s greatest knight.

  She believed in him.

  “I simply meant that you have had some pain in your torso when you swing a sword,” she reminded him. “Does it still pain you?”

  He seemed resolute. “The pain will fade. It will not stop me from doing as I must.”

  “Do you fear that de Winter will be called to fight again?” she asked. “I heard the servants saying that the French rebels have been moving south, to London. They say that is where Prince Louis is now, waiting for a fleet of ships from France. Is this true?”

  Bric looked at her a moment without reacting. Then, he smiled weakly. “There are many rumors flying about, Lady MacRohan. I would not take what the servants say too seriously. The weak minded have vivid imaginations.”

  “Then it is not true?”

  “I did not say that. I simply said there are many such rumors flying about, but nothing has yet been confirmed. Until it is, you should not worry about it. When the time comes, I will tell you the truth about things.”

  Eiselle sensed that he simply didn’t want to speak on the subject, so she didn’t press him. Instead, she shifted the focus to the reason why she’d come.

  “As you say, Husband,” she said. “I apologize if I sounded foolish with my questions.”

  “You did not.”

  “Then that would be a first,” she teased. “My father used to say that everything out of my mouth was foolishness.”

  Bric couldn’t help it; he reached up to gently stroke her cheek. “Not everything,” he said quietly. “When you tell me you love me, that is not foolish.”

  Her cheeks flushed sweetly. “Nay, it is not.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “That I love you? You know that I do.”

  “I know. But I want to hear it every day.”

  “Then I shall tell you every day if you tell me that you love me, too.”

  His eyes glimmered warmly at her. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “And I love you. I love you madly.”

  They were words that fortified his heart in ways he could have never imagined. He never knew that three little words could make him feel such joy, such contentment. He very much wanted to kiss her, but his natural restraint railed against it. But he knew that if he stood here with her much longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge, so it was best to remove himself from temptation.

  “Now that I have heard the words that will carry me through my day, I am content,” he said. “But if there isn’t something else you wish to discuss with me, I must return to the men. Still, it has been a welcome respite to see you.”

  Eiselle was touched. Bric wasn’t the great flatterer other than to tell her of his love for her, but the compliments he did pay her were simple and sweet. She adored that about him. The past several weeks had been a learning experience for them both, and they were improving in their communication.

  The man who never wanted to be married had learned a valuable lesson when the arrow almost ended his life – he learned that life was worth living, in all circumstances, but most especially with the right woman by his side. And Eiselle was learning
about a life she could have never imagined, something romantic and sweet that she’d heard of but never believed she would experience.

  For both of them, the unexpected and, in one case, unwanted marriage had become the most important thing in the world.

  “Do you think I just came here to gaze adoringly at you, then?” she jested. “I really did come here for a reason and it was not to distract you from your duties. It was to ask you if you have time to try on the clothing I am repairing for you. I believe I have it right, but it would help if you would try the pieces on so that I can make any necessary adjustments.”

  He glanced at the group of men about twenty feet away. “I do not have the time at the moment,” he said. “But, mayhap, in an hour or so. Will that be acceptable?”

  She nodded. “It will.”

  He winked at her. “Thank you, mo chroí.”

  Eiselle simply smiled as he turned once again and headed back to the training area where the men were practicing with wooden swords they had fashioned. Pearce had entered the activities and he broke off a group of men and took them over to the south side of the field for instruction in archery. There were targets set up on piles of hay for the men to practice on. But Eiselle paid little attention to Pearce as she turned back for the keep; her attention was on Bric until the very last moment. She wanted him to be her last memory before she turned her attention to something else.

  Bric saw when his wife had headed back towards the keep, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. Even though he was reclaiming his broadsword to continue his instruction to the men, his thoughts were lingering on her. Such a lovely, sweet creature who was turning into a woman that was quite eager in his bed. She seemed to crave sexual contact as much as he did, and she needed absolutely no prompting to respond to his will. Even thinking about that made his loins feel warm, so he quickly diverted his attention. It would do no good to feel a need for his wife when he still had work to do.

  But knowing what was waiting for him this night made him want to complete his work just a little faster.

  With that thought on his mind, he bellowed orders to his recruits, demanding they give him their attention, and they did. He had an eager audience of both young and old men, and he resumed the lesson where he’d left off. He was teaching the men defensive tactics which, in the past, he’d taught them by physically demonstrating – and in some cases, violently – what happens when an enemy tries to kill them and how to counteract their attacks.

  But today, Bric was being a little less violent about it and a little more explanatory. In truth, what Eiselle said was correct – his torso still pained him to swing a sword, and sometimes he felt he was tearing up all of the healing he’d done, which had forced him to be somewhat cautious when engaging in physical activity.

  At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth that he kept buried was that he didn’t want to reinjure himself. For the first time in his life, he was concerned about his physical state.

  It was an unusual concern, indeed.

  But it was something he tried to push through, alien feelings that he’d never experienced before. As the men gathered around him once again, he pulled one young man out of the crowd and spoke to the men about the proper way of using a sword for defense rather than offense. He had the recruit properly positioned as he explained what needed to happen in the heat of battle, while over in the crowd of men who were learning how to properly hold a bow, Pearce had given one of the recruits an arrow to see if the man could properly handle it. Unfortunately, the recruit accidentally let the arrow fly and it sailed into the air, landing about two feet from Bric as he was instructing his men.

  Bric didn’t remember running into the keep after that.

  All he remembered was something unfamiliar – the powerful sense of panic.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Eiselle had just sat down with one of Bric’s tunics in the chamber near the keep entry that was Bric’s former sleeping chamber. Bric decided to occupy Eiselle’s chamber, and that was where the newlyweds spent their time, but his former chamber had been converted into a solar for the ladies.

  That was where the women now spent their time, sewing or drawing or reading aloud. When the noise of the hall grew too much, they could close the doors and shut themselves in, and Keeva had moved furs and rugs and chairs and even a couch into the solar so that she and her ladies could be comfortable.

  It was also an Eddie-free zone, meaning Angela was welcome but her son was not. Consequently, Angela had barely spent any time in it at all, but that was normal as of late for her. Meanwhile, Keeva and Eiselle and Zara enjoyed it as a place to call their own.

  It was into this room that Eiselle was settling when she heard someone come in through the keep entry. The great doors were usually closed and when they swung back on their old iron hinges, they made a great deal of noise no matter how much the servants greased them up. Therefore, she heard the doors opening and the rapid boot falls of someone. She didn’t think too much of it until she heard someone wretch, and the sound of liquid splashing on the floor of the entry.

  Curious, not to mention concerned, Eiselle rose from her chair and stuck her head out of the solar just in time to see Bric rush towards the spiral stairs that led to their chamber, pause once again to vomit onto the stairs, and then disappear up the stairwell.

  Throwing her sewing onto the nearest chair, Eiselle raced after him. She ran past two big puddles of vomit, up the stairs, and nearly stepped into a third puddle at the top of the stairwell. There were servants on that level and they’d already come out of their alcoves to see what the fuss was about, and Eiselle quickly instructed them to clean up the mess. She didn’t mention who had left it, but the servants heard the door to her chamber slam, so they could probably guess. Still, Eiselle didn’t say anything more as she rushed to her closed chamber door and lifted the latch.

  The room was illuminated only by the light coming in through the lancet windows as she entered, as the fire in the hearth had long died and now there was only ash. Immediately, she spied Bric in the corner, leaning against the stone, with his hands over his face.

  Greatly concerned, Eiselle came around the side of the bed, wondering why her husband was cowering in the corner and breathing as if he were about to explode.

  “Bric?” she said softly. “What is wrong? Are you ill?”

  His hands came away from his face and he looked at her with an expression Eiselle had never seen before. Bric not only had an unusual eye color, but the shape of his eyes was somewhat unusual as well – almond-shaped, some would call it. They were both unique and beautiful, but they were eyes that could narrow down in a slit in a flash-second, a particularly terrifying trait the man had.

  At the moment, however, Eiselle didn’t recognize them. They were as wide as she had ever seen them, as if Bric had been deeply shocked by something. He didn’t answer her right away; he simply stared at her. Eiselle took a timid step towards him.

  “Bric?” she said again, her brow furrowed in concern. “What is the matter? Are you ill?”

  His mouth worked as if he wanted to say something. Then, it was as if he simply went boneless – his entire body collapsed until he was sitting on his rump in the corner, his back pressed against the wall. He couldn’t even answer her, and Eiselle sank to her knees where she was standing so that she could be on his level.

  Now, he was starting to frighten her.

  “Please, Bric,” she whispered. “What is wrong?”

  He took a couple of short, panting breaths followed by one long, deep one. “I do not know,” he finally said. “I was standing with the men, with a sword in my hand, and an arrow landed in the dirt a few feet away. And, suddenly, I’m running. I’m running blindly and the next I realize, I’m at the top of the stairs. Then, I’m in this room. I… I do not know what happened, only that I am here and I feel… I feel…”

  Eiselle crept closer to him as he trailed off. “What do you feel?” she asked softly.

&n
bsp; He was looking at her as if he couldn’t breathe. “My God,” he muttered. “All I could think was that I did not want to die. That arrow… I heard it… and then all I could think was that I did not want to die. I did not want to leave you.”

  Eiselle moved in closer, reaching out a timid hand to him. “You will not leave me,” she said. “And I will not leave you. I will always be here, Bric.”

  She was close enough that Bric could touch her, and he did. He pulled her into a crushing embrace, burying his face against her belly as his arms went around her torso. It was almost like he was attempting to hide or, at the very least, block out whatever was troubling him so. Eiselle ended up with the man practically laying in her lap as she tried to put her arms around him to comfort him.

  “I am here,” she said soothingly. “I am not leaving you, I promise.”

  Bric was trembling in her arms; she could feel it. He was shaking all over. She tried to hold him tighter, trying to comfort him, but he simply remained where he was, his head in her lap and his muscular arms around her body. Eiselle thought the man might shake apart right in her arms, and she could feel his breathing – it was irregular, sometimes slower, sometimes faster. Eiselle simply held him tightly, not knowing what else to do.

  Time passed, but Eiselle was uncertain as to how much. It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours. It seemed like forever. She could hear noise from the bailey wafting through the windows of their chamber, her grip on Bric very tight as she wondered why the man was so shaken. She’s never seen anything like it in her life other than from her mother, who panicked on a regular basis and imagined she was sick or dying. It began to occur to Eiselle that Bric was panicking over something, something he couldn’t explain, and it puzzled her greatly. The most powerful knight in England didn’t panic. He didn’t fall.