Surrender to an Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  And so he had. He’d protected her, and she saw the way he watched over Morren, even now.

  Though Jilleen had never been much of a matchmaker, if she helped put them together, there was a strong chance that Trahern would take care of Morren.

  Maybe that would make up for her cowardice.

  Maybe.

  ‘We’re going to meet tonight to discuss the attack,’ Gunnar said, when the crowd had begun to dissipate. ‘Áron thought you would want to attend.’

  At the mention of Ciara’s brother, Trahern tensed. He hadn’t seen Áron, hadn’t known that he’d returned. Áron wasn’t among the other Ó Reillys, and it struck him as strange that the man hadn’t greeted them.

  He glanced back at Morren, who answered his unspoken question. ‘Go with Gunnar. I’ll be fine with Jilleen.’

  ‘I don’t want you unguarded.’

  ‘She can stay with Katla,’ Gunnar offered. ‘My brother’s wife will keep her safe.’

  Trahern had no doubt of that. He imagined the Norsewoman would wield a spear against any man who threatened someone under her protection.

  ‘It’s all right, Trahern. You may as well go with them and find the answers you’re seeking.’

  He would have preferred it if Morren came with him, but she was looking pale. It was best if she got some rest. He also wanted the healer to look over her in the morning, to be sure she hadn’t suffered unduly from the miscarriage.

  ‘I’ll be back later tonight,’ he promised.

  ‘I know you will.’ She lifted her eyes to his, and they were a steady, deep blue. Although she didn’t appear confident, she put on the appearance of bravery.

  Without thinking, his hand reached out to her cheek. He touched it with his palm, and she flinched. The reaction was so fast, he dropped his hand away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I know you didn’t mean any harm.’

  He mumbled that it didn’t matter, but inwardly it bothered him to think that any unexpected touch would have such an effect upon her. He left without another word, following Gunnar outside the house to another rectangular structure. The air had turned even colder, hinting at a freezing rain or snow.

  The Norseman stopped before the entrance, eyeing him thoughtfully. ‘Have you claimed Morren as your woman?’

  ‘Not in the way you’re suggesting. But I won’t allow you or any other man to bother her. I’ve sworn my protection.’

  ‘Selfish bastard.’ Gunnar pushed open the door. ‘You don’t want her, but you don’t want anyone else to have her.’

  ‘You’re right.’ He offered no excuses, for Morren had endured enough.

  When they reached the interior of the dwelling, Trahern saw five men seated. Ciara’s brother, Áron, was there with a resigned expression. The man looked as though he’d given up hope.

  He’s avoiding me, Trahern realised. But why? Was it sorrow at losing Ciara…or guilt?

  ‘This is our chief, Dagmar,’ Gunnar said. A taller, older man, the chief wore costly gold rings and a band around his upper arm to denote his rank. Shrewd brown eyes stared into his own, as if assessing his measure. Trahern didn’t falter, but stared back, daring the man to voice a protest.

  ‘I know you believe we were behind the attack that night,’ the chief began, ‘but it isn’t true. We’re trying to learn who was.’

  Trahern chose a seat beside Áron, studying each of the Lochlannach men. A man’s posture and demeanour would often proclaim his guilt when he spoke false words. But so far, he had found nothing.

  The chief spoke the Irish language, out of courtesy for himself and Áron. Trahern had learned a bit of the Viking tongue from his grandfather as a child, but his abilities were limited.

  ‘A runner returned last night from Corca Dhuibhne,’ the chief said. ‘The Irish and Ostmen are essentially one tribe there. They had no reason to attack Glen Omrigh.’

  Trahern could have told them that, for his own grandfather Kieran had spent a great deal of time in Corca Dhuibhne with the Ó Brannon family.

  ‘What about Port Láirge?’ he ventured. ‘There’s a large settlement along the river.’

  The chief looked doubtful. ‘It’s a good distance from here, but possible.’ He shrugged as if it were no matter to him. ‘Gunnar, see to it.’

  Then he turned to the others. ‘It’s turning colder, and it will be more difficult to rebuild when the ground freezes. We’ll need a group of men to start working on the foundations tomorrow. The sooner we rebuild, the sooner the Ó Reillys can return to their own cashel.’ The conversation turned towards the needs of the Irish clan and whether or not all of the survivors should make the journey.

  Trahern watched the men, feigning his attention, but his true interest was in learning just why they wanted to help the Ó Reillys. Though it was common for one Irish clan to assist another, there was no discussion of what would be given to the Dalrata in return. Finally, after the men ended the meeting and began leaving for their own houses, he asked Áron.

  ‘They are planning to expand their own territory,’ Áron answered. ‘We’ve granted the Dalrata people some of our land in return for their help. With fewer clan members, we don’t need the space.’

  Trahern didn’t like it. ‘How much land?’

  ‘Not as much as you might think.’ Áron sent him a warning look and lowered his voice to a whisper as they returned to the center of the longphort. ‘Trahern, if it weren’t for them, we’d be dead. We lost most of our harvest in the fires, and they’ve invited us to stay with them through the winter.’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust them if I were you, Áron.’

  ‘We’ve no choice.’ He stopped walking and shook his head. ‘You might be suspicious, but I am grateful. You’re welcome to come with us on the morrow, when we rebuild the cashel.’

  ‘I might.’ The more time he spent with the men, the more he could learn about what had happened that night.

  ‘Why did you come back, Trahern?’ Áron asked suddenly. His face tightened with wariness, as though he didn’t want Trahern to be here.

  ‘I intend to avenge Ciara’s death. I’m going to find the men who were responsible for the attack.’

  Áron seemed unsettled, his gaze shifting back to the Lochlannach. More than ever, Trahern was convinced that the man knew something.

  ‘I know you cared for my sister,’ Áron admitted. ‘I would have been glad to call you brother. But nothing will bring her back. Finding the men won’t change that.’

  Trahern took a step closer, revealing the icy anger he’d caged. ‘I will find them, Áron. And they will answer for her death.’

  Áron nodded, but refused to make eye contact. He cast a glance at the Viking dwelling where the women slept. ‘How did you come to travel with Morren? We never knew what had happened to her.’

  Trahern held back, not wanting to reveal too much. ‘I found her and Jilleen in an abandoned hunter’s cottage in the woods. I brought them to the abbey first, but then learned you had come here.’

  ‘We searched for them, but thought they were both dead.’ Áron’s expression grew pained. But Trahern sensed that it was false, that no one had searched for the women. His uneasiness trebled.

  ‘When I saw the men going after Jilleen,’ Áron continued, ‘I feared the worst.’

  ‘And you did nothing to help her?’ His fist curled over the wooden door frame. ‘She’s a girl, for God’s sakes.’

  ‘You weren’t there that night,’ Áron responded, his voice growing cold. ‘All the homes were on fire and the fields, too. We were trying to get the children out. We weren’t prepared for the attack.’ He reddened, staring off into space. ‘When Morren and Jilleen didn’t return over those few months, we assumed they were either dead or prisoners.’

  ‘You left them behind. No one searched,’ Trahern accused.

  ‘I lost my sister and my parents that night,’ Áron said. ‘I had enough of my own dead to bury.’

  It didn’t assuage Trahern’s anger that the
clan was so caught up in their own problems, they’d ignored two of their own kin. ‘What happened to Morren’s family?’

  ‘She and her sister were already alone. Their parents died last year, and if they had uncles or aunts, we never met them.’ Áron thought a moment and added, ‘There was a man who courted Morren, I think. Adham Ó Reilly was his name.’

  That brought him up short. Trahern tried to remember if he’d seen Morren with anyone, but to be honest, he’d spent so little time with the rest of the Ó Reilly clan, he didn’t know.

  ‘What happened to Adham?’

  ‘He is still here.’

  Trahern didn’t respond, but it was as though a strand of tightened steel had pulled through his stomach. Though he’d never met Adham, he had little faith in any of the Ó Reilly men.

  There had been no reason for the clan to abandon Morren, despite the danger.

  ‘I’ll come with you when you leave,’ Trahern said. ‘And I intend to take my horse back from Gunnar.’

  Áron ventured a smile. ‘I’ll arrange it.’

  The two men crossed through the longphort, but Trahern departed Áron’s company, continuing on to Katla’s dwelling, where Morren was staying. The tall woman intercepted him at the door and nearly shoved him outside again. ‘You cannot come inside. Only the women may stay.’

  Trahern ignored her. ‘Your husband is here, is he not?’

  Katla planted both hands on her hips. ‘I trust Hoskuld with my life. I don’t, however, trust you.’

  ‘I swore to Morren that I’d keep her and Jilleen safe,’ Trahern argued. ‘If it bothers you to have a guard, then I’ll take them somewhere else.’

  ‘You aren’t her family,’ Katla argued. ‘You haven’t the right.’

  ‘I’m the only man who’s shown any concern for them, so aye, I have the right.’ He wasn’t going to let a sharp-tongued Norsewoman badger him.

  ‘Stubborn brute of an Irishman,’ she cursed, trying to shut the door on him.

  ‘That, and more.’ He didn’t back down, but met her fierce brown eyes with his own, keeping the door open with the strength of one thigh. ‘No harm will come to them.’

  Morren had risen to her feet, sleepy-eyed, her fair hair neatly braided. ‘It’s all right, Katla. He can stay.’

  ‘And what about the others? They’ve no need to be bothered by a man such as him.’

  Morren touched Katla’s shoulder. ‘Trahern would do nothing to hurt any of the women. But if you’d rather, I will go elsewhere to sleep.’

  Something knotted up inside him at her quiet offer to stay at his side. Her trust in him was unexpected, humbling even.

  Katla stared at both of them, sending Trahern a heated look of disapproval. Pointing to the far end of the longhouse, she ordered, ‘Stay on that side, then.’

  Trahern waited until the woman had reached the opposite side before approaching Morren. He eyed her carefully, wondering if she wanted him to leave. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

  ‘I wasn’t truly sleeping,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t like to dream.’

  He didn’t press her to answer why. ‘Do you want me to go? I’ll sleep outside if it would make you more comfortable.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish. It may freeze tonight. And what good are you, if you’re dead?’

  Her macabre remark made it hard not to smile. ‘Are you certain?’

  She nodded and patted the ground beside her. ‘Sit with me and tell me what you learned from the others.’

  In a low voice, he relayed all of the information to her, but left out any mention of Adham. Though he didn’t know the man, he distrusted him for leaving Morren behind. He also wondered what feelings she held for Adham, if any.

  ‘They’re going back to the cashel in the morning,’ he told her, ‘to rebuild the homes. Do you want to come?’

  Morren hesitated. ‘Will you go?’

  He gave a nod. ‘I had planned to, yes. I want to speak with the other Ó Reilly men about the attack.’ He softened his tone, suddenly aware of the dark memories Glen Omrigh would hold for her. ‘But if you’d rather remain here—’

  ‘No, I need to return.’ She looked over at her sleeping sister. ‘I think it would be best for Jilleen, as well.’

  She leaned back, her spine resting against the wall of the hut. With their voices lowered, she had to lean closer to him to hear. He wondered if it made her fearful, being so near to him.

  ‘Trahern, how long will you stay?’

  Until I know you’re safe, he almost said, but stopped himself. She might misunderstand the words.

  Protecting Morren and her sister was a way of atoning for his mistakes with Ciara. He wanted to be certain that her clan didn’t fall victim to the Vikings or be absorbed into the Dalrata tribe. And that would take time he didn’t have.

  Though he didn’t like the idea of wintering amongst the Lochlannach, soon enough it would be too dangerous to travel. ‘Long enough to help your clan rebuild,’ he admitted. ‘I want to know why the Lochlannach are so interested in your land. I suspect that there’s more that the chief isn’t telling us.’

  He cast a look over at Katla, who had gone to sleep. ‘Among the Ó Reillys, I may learn more about the attack. And, if we work hard, you might spend the winter in your own homes.’

  Morren shook her head. ‘Even if we rebuild, we don’t have the supplies we need to last through the winter. Not unless any of the harvest was spared.’ A despondent look crossed her face. ‘I doubt if anyone tended the fields.’

  ‘There’s time enough to hunt. If everyone works together, we could preserve enough meat.’

  ‘But we’ve no grain.’ She drew her knees up, growing quiet for a time. ‘And it’s too late to plant.’

  ‘We could trade for what you need,’ he offered. ‘There’s always hope.’ He opened his palm to her.

  She looked into his eyes, and he saw softness mingled with determination. Tentatively she lifted her hand and placed it in his. ‘You’re right. There’s hope.’

  He curved his fingers over hers, knowing what it had meant for her to reach out to him. The serene beauty of her face caught him like a spear between the ribs. For Morren Ó Reilly was more than what she seemed, with a strength veiled beneath the delicate features. Her wistful blue eyes had seen too much horror. He found himself wanting her to find happiness again.

  But not with Adham Ó Reilly.

  He didn’t know where these possessive thoughts had come from. She needed a steady man to take care of her, to push away the nightmares of her past. Why should it matter if it were Adham, or Gunnar, or any other man?

  Because those men didn’t know what she’d suffered. They hadn’t held the body of her child in the palm of their hand, nor did they know the unimaginable torment that she’d locked away.

  She shouldn’t have to reveal it. They didn’t need to know.

  Morren’s gaze fell to his feet. The ties of his shoes were loose, the leather stiff from the cold. She reached out to his feet, meaning to bind them.

  The light brush of her hands against his feet sent a rush of blood through his body. Though she did nothing more than adjust the ties, the gesture was unexpectedly arousing.

  He couldn’t have stopped the reaction if he’d tried to stop breathing. The light scent of her hair, the fragile air about her, made him want to pull her close.

  What in the name of God was wrong with him? Was he so desperate for a woman that he’d consider touching Morren? He loathed himself for the betraying thoughts that desecrated Ciara’s memory.

  He jerked away from Morren and stood. ‘Go to sleep. We’ll leave in the morning.’ Without a word of explanation, he moved as far away from her as he dared.

  But as he tried to force sleep, all he could think about was her.

  At dawn, Morren rode back with the others toward Glen Omrigh. She hadn’t been back in so many months, she was almost afraid of what she’d find.

  Trahern had sent two of the Vikings back to the monastery to retur
n the ageing horses they’d borrowed. Now that he was riding his own mount once again, he appeared more relaxed.

  And yet, not once had he spoken. His cool demeanour unnerved her. Last night, he’d treated her like a vial of poison, after she’d mistakenly touched the ties of his foot coverings. She’d done it without thinking, the way she would adjust a child’s laces.

  But Trahern had behaved strangely ever since. He’d not spoken to her this morn, nor had he met her gaze. If it weren’t for his protective guard, she’d have thought he was avoiding her.

  He must have thought she was reaching out to him, wanting him in the way a woman desired a man. That wasn’t true at all. Her cheeks flushed red. But even if it were, he’d treated her like discarded goods, a woman contaminated.

  It cut through her, reaching down to the pain she’d tucked away, flaring the anger back. It wasn’t my fault. I’m not to blame for it.

  She knew that, in her heart, but she forced her emotions back, burying them deep. Don’t think of it. She clenched the reins of her horse, fighting back tears that she refused to shed. Although Trahern had saved her life, she suspected he viewed her as a burden.

  And why? Had she ever demanded anything of him? The more she thought of it, the more resentful she grew. He treated her like a younger sister or a child he felt responsible for. But she was a grown woman, more than capable of surviving on her own. She didn’t need Trahern.

  Morren closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong. She would be no man’s inconvenience, nor would she let her fear transform her into a shadow. She had to think of Jilleen.

  As she continued on the journey, she found herself staring at the small group of Ó Reilly survivors. One familiar face caught her eye. It was Adham, a man who had once shown interest in her.

  He’d spoken to her when she’d arrived at the longphort. She hadn’t replied, not wanting to face him. Silently she’d hoped that he would abandon his courtship efforts. She didn’t want to be noticed by any man at all. Not any more.

  Steeling her posture, she rode at Trahern’s side. It was strange to be surrounded by so many people, and yet she’d never felt more alone.