Forbidden Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  “Give him a chance, papa! He didn’t know! If you tell him, he will agree! Papa, please!” Her voice cracked with pain as tears streamed down her face. Her hands were folded together tightly as she begged her father to let her talk to Liam before the handfast ceremonies began that evening.

  Turning around to face his brokenhearted fifteen-year-old daughter, King Doran sighed, twisting his fingers in his black and grey beard, as he often did when distressed. He stepped forward to take Gwynneth’s shaking hand in his. “Gwynneth.” His voice was soft and broken. He never expected for her to be so distraught. “I cannot explain my decision to you, not yet. I understand it is customary for a man and woman to marry for love, but you are different, special. You are a king’s daughter and you must marry a king. This is not my will. It is the will of the gods. You will understand one day.” His hazel eyes were boring into hers, pleading for her to submit to his commands without further issue. “If I could wait, I would. But this needs to happen, and it will. Tonight. Everything is arranged.” Her father wiped a tear away from her cheek and tucked a stray wave of platinum hair behind her ear.

  “Papa, I have never disobeyed you. I will always do as you ask, you know that. But I will never forgive you…” She lowered her head in defeat and wiped her nose on the long billowing sleeve of her soft yellow linen dress. “May I please go see Liam, just one more time…and explain to him?” Her heart was crumbling to pieces within her chest just imaging Liam’s face as she told him.

  “Nay, Gwynn, you know as well as I do that nay good can come of you telling him, yourself.” He pulled on his beard and shook his head. “I will send one of his friend’s down before the festival to tell him. In the meantime, let me take you to Baine. He is waiting to speak to you. He is five years your senior, Gwynn, but he is gentle and kind. He comes from a good family.”

  “So does his brother, who is known as a violator of women”, she wanted to shout at her papa, but she shook it off. It was unfair to judge Baine upon the actions of his brother. Her fate was sealed. Liam was forbidden to her.

  “Stop! Get off of me, Baine! You’re hurting me!” Struggling in pain, Gwynneth was trapped underneath the weight of Baine’s strong, hard body. His hands were twice the size of hers and he was easily pinning both wrists up above her head as she struggled. “Let me g-go!” She started thrashing beneath him, trying to connect her knee to any part of him she could reach.

  Releasing a low moan of pleasure, Baine was completely naked and grinding his pulsating flesh between her legs. “Come now Gwynn, has struggling ever helped? I’m surprised you still fight it, after all this time.” He leaned forward and aggressively sucked on her lower lip, then bit down hard before releasing, breaking the skin. “I like the struggle Gwynn. It keeps things interesting. You are not nearly as dull in bed as you are the rest of the day.”

  He leaned closer to her, his mouth barely resting against hers as their breath mingled, both panting for different reasons. Her eyes were shut tightly, trying to wish herself away from her violent husband. Suddenly, her lips were forced open with the strength of his eager tongue and she could feel him desperately thrashing around inside her mouth. She moaned in frustration, tasting the ale on his breath. “That’s right, Gwynn. I’m taking all of you.”

  A sharp pain shot into her abdomen as he forcefully ripped into her insides with one thrust, the muscles of his chest flexing as he rocked his hips painfully into hers. As a sob escaped her throat and a tear ran down the side of her face, anger consumed him and he picked up his excruciating pace, pumping into her sore body even harder. “What’s the matter, Gwynn? Still wish you married Liam?” His voice was full of contempt and mock sympathy.

  He paused his thrusting and slapped her forcefully across the cheek. “Whore! Is Liam worth your undying loyalty?” he growled. “Where is he now? In bed with Fiona O’Beirne, crying out his own pleasure while you cry out in pain?” Leaning closer, he bit down on the tender flesh where her shoulder met her neck. A small trickle of blood began to descend from the wound before his tongue flicked out to lick it away.

  “Liam does not love you, Gwynn. He was glad to be rid of you, to have a woman in his bed who is not as cold as a dead fish.” His demeanor suddenly changed, as it often did, and he appeared to be a hurt, loving husband with a touch of pain in his eyes. “Why can’t you love me, Gwynn? I will be your king someday. Will you love me then?” Angry Baine was back and the rhythmic flexing of his hips continued against her body, starting with one painful thrust as he gained momentum again.

  “The other lassies all want me, Gwynneth,” he groaned in a lusty whisper as he leaned down and watched her breasts bounce with the rhythm of his violent thrusts. Leaning down to draw one pink nipple forcefully into his mouth, she screamed in pain as he smiled in satisfaction and kept up his increasing pace. “They want to be my wife, Gwynn. They want to be married to a king. You should be honored to share my bed.” Gwynneth had her eyes closed tightly, gritting her teeth and waiting for this round of his daily abuse to be over.

  With a building pace, Baine forced himself deeper in Gwynn’s cringing body as he shuddered and found his release. He relaxed while still inside of her, releasing Gwynn’s bruised wrists and stroked his fingers tenderly down her swollen cheek. The angry mark where he slapped her was hot beneath his touch and she flinched.

  Forcing a final kiss upon Gwynn’s lips, now trickling with blood from his previous bite, he pulled himself out of Gwynn’s swollen body, throbbing from abuse. She scrambled away from him quickly and pressed herself against the wall in a naked, vulnerable heap in the corner of the bed. Her body was wracked with the pains of his daily violence. Her cheek was stinging, fresh blood was dripping from her lip and neck, there was a bruise around her nipple. The skin on her wrists was raw from his grip.

  Bending over to pick up his trousers, Baine looked up to see Gwynneth cowering in the corner. With a predatory smile playing across his lips, he squinted his eyes at her in loathing. “You are lucky you are the king’s daughter, or I would have gotten rid of you long ago. Until you are with child, you a worthless barren bitch and nothing more.”

  With his trousers only pulled up half way, he paused and stood in front of her, exposed from the thighs up. She could see his arousal building once again as he crawled over to her on the bed, like a feral cat waiting to pounce, grabbing her hand. Placing it against his throbbing flesh, he pushed himself into her hand and said with distain, “Look what your fear does to me, Gwynn. The more you cower, the harder I get.” He turned away from her, climbed off the bed and pulled his trousers all the way up to his hips. “Don’t worry, I’m just as sick of you, as you are of me. I think I will go visit one of my willing women, perhaps Fiona today.”

  He started to walk toward the door and with pure hatred in his eyes, he stared down at her shivering naked body. “I will be back tonight. I need an heir, Gwynn and I will never stop until I have one.” He barked. “I would tell you to lay there until I am back, but with all the marks I’ve left on you, I’m certain you have nay place to go.” With a sideways wink, Baine left the room, leaving Gwynneth ripping in pain from the inside out.

  “Nay, get off of me! It hurts so much…” Gwynneth balled herself up in pain, hands wrapped around her abdomen. “Don’t touch me!” Gwynn’s screams of pain startled Abigael out of bed, and she came running over to sit on Gwynn’s bed.

  Gwynn continued to thrash and claw while one hand was buckled tightly across her mid-section. “Gwynneth! You’re safe! Tis Abigael, wake up!”

  Hearing Gwynneth’s screams and Abigael’s failed attempt to calm her, Liam’s pain was forgotten as he bounded out of bed with the reflexes of a cat and was instantly sitting next to Gwynneth, stroking her clammy forehead. Wiping sweaty tendrils of blonde hair out of her face, he made calm shushing sounds as he stoked her cheek.

  His touch made her scream louder and she clawed at his hands. “Nay! Baine, nay more! Please! It hurts so much!” Abigael and Liam looked at each ot
her with concern in their eyes, not knowing what to do to stop the nightmare that was consuming her.

  Liam let go of Gwynn and then whispered in her ear, “Gwynneth, my love, tis Liam. I am here. You are safe. Wake up.” His voice was feather soft and caressed her ears. Hearing his safe, familiar voice, Gwynn snapped her eyes wide open, but her screaming did not stop and she rolled over onto her side cringing in pain.

  “Make it stop! It hurts so much…” Gwynneth was sobbing and groaning. Abigael pulled back Gwynneth’s blankets with a quick tug. Everything was soaked with blood.

  Chapter 12

  “What’s happening to her? Is she dying?” Liam was hysterical and hurled his body over Gwynn’s protectively, looking for the wound site. “Gwynneth, mo chroi, can you hear me? What hurts you?” Liam’s voice was coming out in ragged, choking sounds. His throat was constricting as he tried to hold back tears.

  Abigael grabbed Liam’s wrist and forced him to look at her. “Liam, she is losing her child.” Her face was grim, but assertive. Liam could see it in her eyes. She knew what was happening. She had seen this before.

  Gwynneth’s screams turned into constant moaning as she clutched tightly at her body and kept repeating, “Nay…mo leanbh…mo leanbh.”

  “What? How can that happen in the middle of the night? I don’t understand. Nay, nay…” He was holding his face with his hands and tears rolled down his cheeks. “Nay, not the babe. Not our precious child. Mo Leanbh…”

  “The child is yours?” Abigael Looked at Liam as he raised his head from his hands. Exposed red-rimmed eyes blazed into hers, full of pain and loss. He just shook his head and sat down next to Gwynneth, rubbing her back.

  “Can you do anything for her? Can I?” It was all he could think to say, although he knew the answer. Gwynneth was sobbing and Liam could see the tears running down the tip of her nose. He took his finger and wiped away some of the tears, but more kept coming. “I love you, Gwynn.” Another sob escaped him and he held on to his aching ribs, pain searing his injured chest with every stifled tear.

  Abigael looked from Gwynneth, to Liam, and back. “Nay, I’m sorry, but all I can do, all we can do, is stay next to her until it passes. I will clean her up and you just lay with her.” Abigael’s voice was calm. Like a true healer, she did not panic in the face of a disaster. However, her sympathy for Gwynneth and Liam was palpable. “Liam, don’t forget, I loved her father very much. And I love her, though we never met until yesterday. Her father would be devastated.”

  Having no control over his emotions, Liam swiftly switched from consuming sorrow to uncontrollable anger. He stood up quickly and punched a wall. “Her father? Abigael, this is ALL her father’s fault!” He was shouting with rage, spittle flying from his mouth. “He forced her to marry that monster! And now, now…” his voice choked and once again, sorrow consumed him as he tried to continue. “Now, she is losing the one good thing she received from that horrible marriage.” He sat down next to Gwynn’s shaking body and lowered his voice. “Nay. This is my fault. I should have killed him a long time ago. I was going to raise this child as my own, but the painful memory of Baine’s abuse has ripped her babe away in her sleep.”

  No longer able to keep the tears at bay, Liam allowed his heartbreak to flow freely as he lay down next to Gwynneth, wrapping his arms around hers as she held the place where her child once was. Her hands wrapped around Liam’s tightly, squeezing with all her strength, and together, they mourned the child who was briefly theirs.

  The morning passed is a blur. A few more screams from Gwynneth as the child ripped away from her body, many more groans of suffering, and it was done.

  Abigael quietly gathered Gwynneth’s blood soaked white linen night dress up her frail body while Liam lifted her weak arms over her head to pull it off. He tossed it into the central hearth fire and watched it burn, as if ceremoniously letting go of what could have been.

  Turning back to Gwynn, he placed a clean night dress over her body and lifted her up briefly into his lap while Abigael pulled the linens off and burned them as well. Gwynneth’s arms slowly went around Liam’s neck as she buried her wet face into his chest, seeking his strength and comfort. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist and slowly rocked her back and forth until she was lulled to sleep.

  “Do you want to lay her back down?” Abigael pat the bed. New wool blankets lay clean and folded, as if the bed was never drenched in Gwynn’s blood. Liam shook his head and continued to rock the sleeping Gwynneth in his arms.

  Sitting down on the bed herself and staring at the two of them seeking solace in each other’s arms, all Abigael could do was shake her head. “This is not right. You two belong together. This isn’t what Doran wanted for Gwynn. He was only doing what he had to do.”

  Liam shot her a warning look from the bench. He was not in the mood to hear any more about Doran’s good intentions. “You will see, Liam, on the morrow at the Samhain festival. You will hear the legend.”

  Raising his eyebrows at her in confusion, she stood up and walked over to him. “Aye, there is a legend, about Gwynneth. She is more than she seems. I will tell you…on the morrow,” she said firmly and gave him a slight nod. She ran a finger through Gwynneth’s tangled hair as she slept. “However…” Abigael said with a slightly raised voice and then paused for the sheer drama of the moment, “I do have a very interesting story to tell you both tonight. I think you will find it enlightening.” Looking at the frustrated expression on his face, she smiled and walked away. “When Gwynneth awakens, I will tell you.”

  Liam rocked Gwynneth gently for a little while longer and before he knew it, he was fast asleep, holding Gwynn tightly as her chest was on his and her face nuzzled into his tear streaked neck. Abigail watched them from the other side of the house, while she worked tirelessly at her loom, creating something with a soft yellow thread.

  Abigael was humming to herself and whispering, as if communicating with someone unseen. “Aye, I believe so, as well. The time has come.” Pausing, as if listening to someone else’s words, she replied, “I will make this right, Doran. I have promised the gods, and I have promised you. I will make this right.”

  A loud knock on the door broke up the silence that had consumed the house for the past several hours. The day was turning to dusk and pink light entered the house as Abigail opened the door. Standing in front of her was a strong looking man with long red hair and bushy eyebrows to match. His nose was slightly crooked, probably from one too many rowdy nights in the gathering hall, she thought, but his curious face looked friendly and she knew exactly who he was.

  “Duncan, I was wondering when you would come to greet your companions. Please come in.” He looked quizzically at her, assuming Liam must have told her about him, and he walked in slowly searching the room for Liam.

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Liam’s ribs were still wrapped tight, but his head was no longer bandaged. His hair was disheveled and sticky from the dry blood that had coagulated into a nice scab. His eye was an unsettling yellowish-purple color, but he could open it now, as the swelling had been significantly reduced, thanks to Abigael’s remedy of cold meat.

  Liam was sitting at a table near the hearth looking solemn, not at all how Duncan expected to find him. Even when injured, Liam had never let his pain affect his good humor. Remembering that Gwynneth was supposed to be staying with him, he looked around for any sign of her, and found her in the bed, awake and propped up with lots of wool blankets and warm tea in her hands. Her hair was just as distressed as Liam’s and her face was dirty with tear stains running all the way down to her neck.

  Duncan’s mouth dropped open as he looked back and forth between the two saddest people he has ever seen, wondering what had happened in just a single night. Abigael walked up to him with a smile and a hot cup of tea, offering him a seat. He sat down next to Liam, not sure if he should speak or not.

  “I am just about to give Gwynn a bath, Duncan, so you can’t stay long. But as you can see, w
e’ve had a bad morning and I do have something important to tell Liam and Gwynn. I suppose you can stay to hear the news as well.”

  Abigael was silent for a few moments, allowing Liam to whisper into Duncan’s ear. A look of understanding and sadness washed over Duncan’s face as he turned to look at Gwynn with sympathy, and then he looked away, unsure of how to act or what to say. He looked down at his hands, closed his eyes and sipped his tea.

  “Liam. What are your intentions with Gwynneth?” Liam’s head popped up fast at Abigael’s abrupt, and quite honestly unwelcomed, questioning. His cobalt eyes squinted into her light blue ones and his brows crinkled together in consternation, wondering why this subject was any of her business. Just as he was about to say as much, she raised a hand to stop him, seeing that his response would not be amicable. “I am asking, because, what I have to tell you, pertains to the future, for you both.”

  Gwynneth was quietly starring at her mug of tea, one finger silently tapping on its rim nervously as she awaited Liam’s response. His mouth opened then shut again as he bit his lip and thought about his answer. “Hmmmm…what are my intentions with Gwynneth?” He tapped his fingers in irritation on the table in front of him. “Well, I am now 23 years of age and I’ve wanted to marry her since I was 13. But since I was denied that honor, I suppose my intentions are to allow her to make her own decisions, for once in her life. The choice is not mine to make.” He folded his arms across his bandage-bound chest defensively and leaned back with his legs spread wide, a glare of defiance in his eyes.