The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  “We need to see this consummated.” Aodh Meic Lochlainn replaced the bloodied blade and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the stairs.

  Tisa looked behind her at Fergus, his blood spreading beneath him. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. Her father came out of the anteroom. Darragh stood beside him.

  “Father?” was all she could get out as she was dragged toward the stairs.

  The crowd of strange men followed behind. She strained to find her father in the sea of heads but he was lost behind her.

  “Nae. Stop. Where are ye taking me?” She pulled against the hurtful grip on her arm.

  Darragh appeared on the other side of her and faced his father. “I will see to this, Father.”

  “Are ye sure ye’re able to?” His words dripped with derision.

  Tisa didn’t understand this interplay.

  “Please,” she said. “My father.”

  They continued moving to the top of the stairs.

  “Release my wife!”

  Darragh’s commanding tone brought a look of surprise from his father. They paused to face each other. His expression of surprise changed to one of respect. Tipping his head, he released his hold and raised his hand, palm out. Tisa rubbed at her arm.

  “As ye will, my son. See to it then.” His jaw tightened, he moved in close, his eyes widened in warning. “Let. There. Be. No. Doubt!”

  “None.”

  Aodh glanced down at his daughter-in-law. Her cheeks heated at his blatant inspection of her bosom. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her flat against him, his wet lips covering her own. When he shoved his tongue into her mouth, Tisa gagged. With one large hand on her bottom, he jerked her against him. Evidence of his arousal hard against her. Just as suddenly he released her and she fell back against Darragh who thankfully caught her fall.

  “Have at her, then I’ll take my turn.”

  “Not this night.” Darragh’s commanding tone remained. He turned his gaze on her then smiled, moving in as close as his father had been. “So, show me to yer chambers, wife.”

  The grip he took of her arm belied the soft tone he’d used with her. She hesitated but a moment. Surely resistance would result in harsher behavior from them both. With her husband alone, she may be able to calm his ire, make him see reason. She led him to the far end of the hall and the stairs that led up to the single room. Her room.

  “Please. Dunna—” Tisa said.

  “Nae! I give the orders.”

  Mayhap not. She couldn’t catch a breath. “But my father—”

  “All contracts have been signed, sweet little Tisa. We are indeed wed. Ye are now mine to do with as I please.”

  She paused in front of the door at the top of the stairs. If he would but listen. “With no—no service or wit—witnessing, it seems—”

  He shoved open the door. She didn’t move.

  “Witnessing? Ye wanted witnessing?”

  “Yea. I had hoped for som—”

  “Then ye shall have it.” He gave her a radiant smile. “Of the consummation.”

  The crowd pushed up from below.

  “Nae. I—The loud sound. My father objected—”

  “Merely surprised at our terms.”

  Tisa couldn’t wipe the confusion from her face. “I dunna understand.”

  “Ye’re my wife now. Ye need not understand anything beyond that.”

  Darragh smiled for the benefit of those further down the steps, no doubt. The dirty faces of eager men leered up at them. Their eyes wide with anticipation. Tisa was going to be sick.

  He pulled her unyielding body into the room that seemed suddenly foreign to her. The small bed with curtains pulled back—her bed—was his total focus. He released her to untie the material. Tisa wrapped her arms around herself. Her stomach tightening as each heavy curtain fell into place. The swooshing noise took on the horrifying sound of a sweeping blade. She should be glad they would have no one seeing the actual act but to have this man take her now, in her own bed, seemed a greater violation.

  “Get on the bed.” Darragh had dropped his voice but it was an order none-the-less.

  Five men had squeezed into the room through the door her husband had left open. Their eyes glazed over with lust.

  “Wait,” Darragh grabbed at her although she hadn’t moved. “Remove yer gown. Let them see all of my wife.”

  Tisa froze with fear. His hands were on her in an instant, turning her to face them as he unlaced her from behind. She pushed back against him, trying to turn away from the doorway. “Wait. Please.”

  She tried to stay his hands but they were adept and her gown was quickly falling away from her, leaving her all but exposed with the thin material of her chemise beneath. Cheers as even more men pushed through the narrow doorway for a glimpse.

  “Please.”

  Tisa tried to cover herself with her hands but Darragh yanked them away. She closed her eyes against the assault. The cool air on her legs moved up her body. Her eyes flew open. He was removing her chemise. She held her arms rigid to her sides and clamped her jaw. She refused to loosen her hold even when he stopped and moved in close to look into her eyes.

  “Shall I allow them to watch as I spread yer legs?” His breath hot on her face, he measured her emotions. “As I impale ye on my prick?”

  Her breath stilled. Would he really do that? He smiled at her and removed the dagger from his waist.

  As if in a dream, she watched as he used the blade to slice the material down the front. Sounds became muffled. The rending of the material. The cold on her bare skin. A collective groan from the onlookers. Shouts of congratulations. Lewd remarks on what they would like to do. Darragh stood to one side with a crooked grin.

  “What are ye waiting for?” a toothless man shouted his encouragement. “If ye dunna take her, I will.”

  “My cock is stiff as a board just looking at her,” another man added.

  Darragh pushed her onto the bed and followed, the curtains closing around them. Entombing them. He shoved her flat onto her back, pressing her shoulders down. His face suffused with anger.

  “Spread yer legs.” He spat the words at her.

  Tisa couldn’t catch a breath. She did as he ordered.

  He pulled his trews down to reveal himself then stopped.

  “More.” He didn’t hide his irritation with her.

  His legs dropped between her knees. He was fully clothed. Fumbling for something at his waist, he pinched at her nipple with his other hand. His upper body surging against her, the bed groaned beneath them. A look of triumph on his face, he held a small vial in front of her and unstopped the top.

  The smile that creased his eyes was back. “Ye’ll be a virgin no more.”

  He brought the bottle down between them, to the juncture of her legs, and arched his body away. A cold wetness seeped into her most intimate area, dripping down. Latching on to her shoulder, he bit down. She cried out in pain.

  The others began to clap and cheer.

  “Well done, man.”

  Darragh bounced on the bed. The creaking sound of the ropes below filling their small space and the men’s imagination.

  “That’s it man.”

  “Give it to her good.”

  “Dunna hold back now.”

  Tisa watched as Darragh worked out the machinations of her wedding night. It seemed to be happening to someone else. The stickiness between her legs. The pain at her shoulder. The pinching of her breasts. Then it was over. He stilled himself.

  “Deed done,” he whispered the words. A shared secret. Hovering over her, he brushed her hair out of her face with a surprisingly gentle hand. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  She cringed. He wanted flattery now? For a deed not done?

  He pushed himself away, jerked down his trews and pulled out his limp length. With the vial safely hidden, he wiped some of the red liquid along his tarse. Spreading the curtains, he was met with cheers. He yanked up his trews w
ith great, dramatic flair and raised his arms, allowing the curtains to close behind him.

  “Another drink!” he announced.

  More cheers and congratulations as they made their way down the stairs.

  “Ye done well, man.”

  “How was she?”

  Tisa dared not to move. The voices drifted further way until they were no longer heard. The men had gone back down to the Great Hall.

  The curtain to her right was jerked opened and Tisa recoiled in fear. An old woman she’d never seen before began tying back the curtains. A tight covering over her hair, her eyes bulged as she moved about the bed doing the same at the other three posts. Tisa covered herself with her hands as best she could.

  “The sheet,” the woman said.

  Tisa forced herself to sit up. Between her legs was a large, red stain. Her “virginal blood”. She jumped away from the offending sight. Three other women stood between her and the door as if afraid she may bolt for freedom. None of them were familiar. One shook her head as if in pity. The bulging-eyed woman pulled the covering off the bed.

  “I’ll get someone to bring ye up warm water.”

  “Caireann.” Tisa was relieved to hear her own voice. “Please send Caireann.”

  The woman shrugged and the four of them left, closing the door tight behind them.

  Tisa stood naked beside her bed. The tears she’d been keeping at bay came in full force. She dropped to the ground. Humiliation. Dread. Fear. Relief. All of her emotions pushed against her brain making it difficult to think. It could have been much worse. He could have actually raped her as she was afeared he might. Instead, he’d barely touched her. She dragged the heavy, wool blanket from the foot of the bed and covered herself with it. Curling into herself, she slept.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ~

  “The food stores will not last a fortnight.”

  Tadhg closed his eyes and took a slow intake of air before again looking at the dark-haired man before him. “And ye’re just apprising me of this now?”

  His ruddy complexion deepened. “I dinna want to burden ye with yer father so ill.”

  Lughaidh, a small man with a mop of brown hair that hung past his shoulders, had been appointed keeper of the stores ever since Moira the Wise had passed. He was a good, loyal kinsmen but Tadhg was convinced he needed a kick in the arse right about now.

  “There was nothing ye could do about it with yer father breaking off from the O’Brien before we’d brought in our share of the harvest.”

  The man was right. Tadhg might have had some vague idea of approaching Roland O’Brien with a new alliance afore now. Now Tadhg knew the reason for his father’s break. It was a little more difficult to go begging for food from the man.

  “I need information, Lughaidh. Dunna be holding back from me for any reason. ‘Tis what I need from ye.”

  The tall man nodded and accepted the seat on the bench beside his new chieftain. “Anything I can help ye with, Tadhg, ye ken I will.”

  Tadhg shook his head. “How many have gone off to the shore?”

  “Twelve men. They’ve not had an easy time of it though.” Lughaidh scratched his head. “Two of the men drowned in a storm. What the others brought back has been getting us through this fall.”

  “None was put up for winter?”

  “‘Tis been a vicious season. The ocean’s near black with turmoil. The fish are farther out and harder to catch. Sending them out again will not do much good.”

  “They have to try. Who was it that perished?”

  “Flann and his son. We’ve two widows now to care for with three wee ones between them.”

  The more desperate he was feeling, the more Tadhg refused to even consider going to Roland O’Brien. The more he resented the man for holding back on their rightful share of the harvest. The more he hated the man for seducing his mother. Certainly his mother would never have gone off to another man, not when her husband was here, seeing to all her needs, loving her. The betrayal stung like a vicious wasp. Tadhg had believed they were truly in love with each other. How could he be so naive?

  “Tadhg?” Lughaidh’s face was lined with worry.

  “I dinna hear ye.”

  “Ye’ve a lot of worries on yer shoulder. I wish I could be of more help to ye.”

  Tadhg heaved a heavy sigh. “So there’s no other choice in the matter?”

  “Ye mean than to ask the O’Brien?”

  “O’Brien—what a laugh. He’s not great. Or a warrior. Never was.”

  Lughaidh pulled back as if he’d been slapped. After a pause, he spoke. “I’ve never heard ye be so cruel, Tadhg. Roland O’Brien is past his prime but he did his best. Having eight children and not a mighty warrior among them is a cruel life. That he’s used his son’s marriages to ensure peace with other clans was only possible because of our clan. He’s relied on us to be his defenders. I dinna mean to be slighting yer own father, but to leave the man with no assistance when the western clans are making moves against them seems pitiless.”

  Tadhg’s blood boiled but there’d be no explaining his reason. They needed to trust him. Lughaidh was a good man. He spoke out of desperation. Tadhg was finding he had less and less sympathy for others and an ever shortening length of patience.

  “Methinks it best if ye leave me. Now.”

  Lughaidh nearly tripped over the bench in his haste to escape. No doubt Tadhg’s expression was not as schooled as he had believed.

  Damn. How was he to provide for the families depending on him? He knew they’d gone and helped in the sowing despite his father’s proclamation that the alliance was dissolved. They must have thought he’d gone daft but knew they’d still need to eat. They had every right to what the O’Briens were storing away for the winter.

  “Cormac!” Tadhg’s bellow went far beyond the long hut he sat in.

  “Aye?” Cormac was red faced and wheezing with the speed he’d run up the hill with.

  Tadhg steadied himself before responding. “I need my horse readied. And find Sean. He’ll be accompanying me.”

  Cormac nodded and headed for the door. The lack of questions from the ever inquisitive boy was a clear indication of the fear Tadhg’s black mood was bringing to his clan. He just couldn’t find a way out of it. He had been betrayed in the worst way. His father even more so. But the example of all that was good and gentle had been his mother. It was hard to reconcile the reality to his imagination.

  “Where am I going with ye?” Sean’s tone indicated his irritation at being called on unexpectedly.

  “Wherever I tell ye to go with me.”

  “What kind of shite answer is that?”

  “It’s the answer ye get for showing disrespect to yer chieftain.”

  Sean lowered his head. He pursed his lips. “Ye want to try and kick my arse? Would that help ye with yer irritation at losing Tisa?”

  “Try and kick yer arse?”

  Sean smiled. His even, white teeth were clearly visible through his heavy beard. “Yea, try. Ye ken ye won’t best me...unless I am ordered to yield to ye by my chieftain.”

  The promise of release the fighting would give him was quickly deflated. “I’d not need ye to let me win, Sean.”

  “But ye’ll never know.”

  Sean’s intense glare made Tadhg uncomfortable but Sean refused to ask again.

  “We’re going to the O’Brien.”

  His friend’s face lit up.

  “It’s not to reinstate the alliance. That can never happen.”

  “Why not, Tadhg? What could have happened that was so unforgiveable?”

  Ye’ll never ken.

  “Enough! I need to see if we can work out an agreement and feed ourselves through winter.”

  Cormac stood in the doorway but avoided Tadhg’s eyes. “The horses are readied.”

  Sean glanced at Tadhg, a disgusted look on his face that seemed to ask do-ye-even-need-to-intimidate-the-boy but he held his tongue.

  “My thanks, Cormac.
” Tadhg tried to sound less riled but the boy left without looking directly at him. Tadhg glanced toward Sean. “Well?”

  “Ye’re turning into an ogre. Scaring away little children. I dunna think ye’ll be sweet talking Roland O’Brien with that fierce scowl.”

  “Enough, Sean.”

  The tall blond shrugged and Tadhg led the way to the horses waiting for them on the path. Cormac was nowhere to be found.

  “He dinna get us any supplies for the trip.”

  Sean jumped onto his horse in one leap and grabbed the reins. “An ogre.”

  He urged his horse to the path leading north without a backward glance. Tadhg’s blood ran hot in his veins. He’d like to take the man up on his offer of a fight. Kicking Sean’s arse would give him a most improved outlook. But his clan still needed food and he still needed to go begging for it from that adulterous dog. Best to save his strength.

  By midday next, they were approaching the large, stone castle that housed the O’Brien. Its building was attributed to Brian Boru himself and dating back to before the Battle of Clontarf. The king had great sons but many were lost in the battle. Roland O’Brien was the third in his line to sire many strong daughters but only feeble sons. It was as if they’d lost the favor of God Almighty. The treaty with the MacNaughton gave them the needed protection. So why jeopardize it by sleeping with his closest friend’s wife?

  A growl rose in his throat. Tadhg had to stop going over this time and time again. He had no answers. He had only the truth of the matter. Sean pulled up alongside him when he stopped, searching his face.

  “Ye’re clearly troubled, Tadhg. Come to new terms with the O’Brien and see this done with.”

  “Ye dunna ken what ye’re talking about.” Tadhg all but hissed the words. “Dunna be telling me how to handle this. Ye dunna ken all there is.”

  “Then tell me.” Sean’s eyes rounded in a look of vulnerability that Tadhg didn’t often see on his stoic friend. “If ‘tis not about Tisa, then what is it eating away at ye?”

  Tadhg took a shaky breath, his nostrils flaring as he struggled for composure. His friend’s unexpected show of compassion busted large holes in his defensive wall.