The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  “I canna tell ye. Trust me. I,” Tadhg glanced around, “need a bit of time for myself.”

  He jumped from his horse and led her to the small clearing. Sean did not follow and remained on his horse but his eyes followed his chieftain. Tadhg flexed his shoulders, working out the knots from the long, hard ride. The time had come. He needed to face a man he’d always respected and looked to for guidance. The man that turned out to be nothing but a lying adulterer. This wasn’t helping. He dropped the horse’s lead and continued down the path, between the oaks and maples just losing their leaves in preparation for the winter to come.

  The path was familiar and led down to the brook. The same brook where he’d sat with Tisa many times and talked about their lives together. He continued to the river’s edge and hunkered down to drag his fingers through the water’s coldness. He could almost hear his love’s sweet laugh with the trickling of the water over the stones. Bracken grew large along the banks, bleached golden from the morning sun.

  That was where he’d confessed his love for her and taken her in his arms. He’d promised he’d protect her and provide for her. At ten years, there’d been nothing more he’d wanted from her. Any time they spent together after that, he would find a way to take her in his arms again. She felt so right there. Fitting perfectly against him.

  When he’d held her that last time and her small breasts had pressed into him, his body had come alive. It became perfectly clear to him. She would grow into a beautiful woman, he would take her to wife, and he thought he understood what that meant. He would hold her against him at night with nothing between them. It wasn’t until he was a bit older that he imagined what it would be like to lay with her. To take her virginity. To finally release his passion. A moan of longing filled the air around him. The need cried out from the depths of his soul. His Tisa. He wanted her still. Like an ache in his heart that wouldn’t lessen.

  Mayhap he could work this out with her father. Mayhap the past was something he could overlook and move away from. Mayhap they could build a new alliance based on a new understanding. A new understanding would make it possible for him to have his lovely Tisa to wife.

  “Is aught amiss?”

  Tadhg hadn’t heard Sean come up behind him.

  “Aye. I was thinking on the best approach with Roland.”

  “Ye sounded as if ye were longing for yer Tisa.”

  Sean never kept his thoughts to himself when it mattered.

  “I suppose I was.”

  “If there’s a way to overlook the offense, Tadhg, it would be best to do that.” Sean paused. “I dunna ken what the offense was so only ye can decide if ‘tis possible. I just ken ye have a deep need for her, a great love.”

  “‘Twas a great offense.”

  If he hadn’t learned of his mother’s betrayal, things would be different. If his father had not spent the time in the chapel to look over their line as Tadhg had. Not knowing would have made things simple.

  The far off cry of the puffins along the rocks drifted to them. Sean offered no more advice but waited behind him. A show of support for whatever decision Tadhg came to. Was it for the good of the clan that they starved through the winter? With the meat they were able to trap and hunt their only sustenance? No. That was not what was best for his clan. He needed to see this offense set aside. Did the O’Brien even know why Padraig had broken their alliance? Did the O’Brien know he’d fathered another child with Tadhg’s mother?

  Tadhg sighed and stood. He had much to discuss with Roland O’Brien. At least now he had a bit of peace. His father’s betrayal may not be something Tadhg could set to rights. Tadhg needed to look ahead. What was best for all was what he needed to think on.

  When Tadhg finally faced him, Sean’s expression quickly changed from surprise to a satisfied smile. “Ye’ve come to a decision.”

  “Aye. I have. Let us see if we can get an audience with the great Roland O’Brien. We may have food in our clan’s belly for the winter after all.”

  Tadhg patted Sean on the shoulder. They walked in companionable silence toward the horses.

  In one swift motion, they mounted.

  “We may even stay the night,” Tadhg offered then urged his horse toward the wall surrounding the castle. Mayhap it would not be such a bad day after all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ~

  ROLAND O’BRIEN WAS AT his wit’s end with these pompous warmongers. If he’d had the slightest hope of making amends with the MacNaughton, he’d never have welcomed the Meic Lochlainn. He had no idea what had transpired to anger Padraig.

  Moira had been distant as well these past years. When her brother, Ronan, came with news of her passing, Roland had been deeply saddened. There had been no communication winter last that she’d even taken ill. That had been the first blow but the man had brought more bad news. Padraig had dissolved their alliance even while his own people were working alongside the O’Brien clan. Tisa and Tadhg’s betrothal was broken as well.

  The news had been devastating. Ronan offered no further explanation but he expressed a certainty that Padraig MacNaughton would not be changing his mind. He was far too angry.

  Roland sighed and glanced again at the hefty, gray-haired man beside him—Aodh Meic Lochlainn. It was Ronan that had suggested the alliance with the Meic Lochlainn. Ronan who had given his acceptance of Tisa as a match for Aodh Meic Lochlainn’s son.

  Aodh Meic Lochlainn had the manners of a wild beast and again took the most succulent meat from the platter before them. Ronan sat to his right, eating little, but keeping a watchful eye on all around him.

  “Ye’ve a well-stocked castle, Roland,” Aodh spoke as he gnawed on his food.

  Roland waved his hand to pass the tray of food. His stomach was in knots. He glanced toward the stairs for the hundredth time and offered a prayer that Darragh had handled the bedding of his daughter with more consideration than his father displayed.

  “And yer son has not come down yet.”

  “They’ve only just begun, Roland.” Aodh slapped him on the back. Hard. “I doubt he’ll be overlong.”

  Aodh laughed and took another bite of the near meatless leg. A strange man. The wounding of his guard had pushed Roland to the edge of his patience. Ronan had stepped in to diffuse the situation and minimize the affront. Their promise of even more warriors stationed within the castle had been an offer Roland could not pass up. The O’Neill had been coveting his family lands for generations. Word of the MacNaughton’s withdrawal of support had quickly spread. The O’Brien was defenseless. He felt much like a wounded deer just waiting for the wolves to attack.

  The loud clatter of a crowd making their way down the stairs had Roland standing. A shiver of fear worked down his spine. It wasn’t his daughter but his new son-in-law. Aodh stood as well, wiping his greasy mouth on his sleeve and smoothing down his beard. Roland sensed the man’s tension despite the wide grin on his face.

  Darragh was surrounded by his men. Slapping him on the back. Shouting congratulations. Roland waited, his eyes fixed on the stairs, unable to take a deep breath. He needed to see Tisa. She did not come down.

  Roland needed to see how she fared. He dropped the hand cloth on his seat preparing to leave but Aodh grabbed his arm.

  “Is that any way to show my son yer support, Roland?”

  Roland ripped his arm out of the man’s grasp. “Was yer ushering my daughter up the stairs for her bedding before even a kiss of blessing from her father any way to treat my daughter?”

  Aodh dropped his hand to the sword at his side. “I ken we do things differently in Inishowen.”

  “I ken that when ye said I had to commit my own warriors for yer battles.” Roland stood his ground. He glanced again toward the empty stairs. Tisa was not there. “Conquering is not what we are about here. We are a peaceful people.”

  “Aye. Always defending. I ken it well.” Aodh measured each word. A warning. “What I dunna ken is how ye managed to keep yer fine castle and all yer lan
d for so long.”

  With the help of our allies.

  Roland cringed inside. Padraig had been like a brother. They shared all things in common. It would have been their lands, MacNaughton and O’Brien, once Tisa and Tadhg were joined. Padraig’s missive breaking the alliance had dealt him a serious blow. The offer of any of his sons to Padraig’s daughter, Brighit, had been a ruse since he’d already married three of them off. It had been rejected.

  Roland had waited and prayed that despite Ronan’s beliefs to the contrary, Padraig would change his mind and honor their agreement. An agreement that went back three generations. Breaking Tisa’s heart had not been an easy thing to do. Moira had kept her son away for so long, Roland had the small hope that Tisa might have forgotten him. That was not the case.

  An elderly woman came down the stairs and into the hall. She held a large sheet in her hands and was followed by three others. Witnesses.

  “My lord,” she addressed Aodh in a loud voice so there would be no mistaking her words.

  “Yes, Lilith?” Aodh said.

  “The bedding cloth.”

  Darragh came to stand beside his father. He crossed his arms. His grin barely containable as he looked on. The woman shook out the bloodstained sheet.

  “Ah.” Aodh beamed with pride and glanced toward his son.

  Roland’s stomach churned. The man must have ripped Tisa asunder with that much blood. He moved to find his daughter but Aodh held him fast. He shook his head, a clear warning.

  “We will stay and celebrate,” Aodh said. “The bedding has proven yer daughter a virgin. We are well pleased. Our clans are now joined.”

  Aodh raised his mug, the special one he’d brought for the celebration, cast in gold and adorned with jewels. Roland relaxed his stance and lifted his own mug with a lot less enthusiasm. If he could but see his daughter and know she had survived, he could pretend to celebrate with these men. Now, he worried about the repercussions of his hasty decision. He should never have listened to Ronan.

  Tadhg slowed his horse as he approached the castle. There were no guards visible from the signal tower or at the gate.

  “This lack of protection surprises me.”

  “The hour is still early. Mayhap they anticipated no problems.”

  Tadhg snorted. “An attack is not usually anticipated, Sean.”

  The tall man tipped his head. “I was merely trying to ease yer angst.”

  “Hail.” Tadhg called toward the tower. “We’ve come to see the O’Brien.”

  A small head popped up from the tower before dipping down again. Despite the distance, a loud commotion could be heard. Tadhg placed his hand on his sword as did Sean. After a moment a man stood, his helmet crooked on his head. Tadhg recognized him as one of Roland’s men, Breandan. He was still in training without much hope of ever toughening up the last Tadhg had seen him.

  “Greetings, Tadhg.” The young man smiled. “Ye’ve missed the celebration.”

  Sean and Tadhg exchanged glances. The boy appeared inebriated. Another man’s head popped up beside him then ducked again. The guard said something they couldn’t make out before turning back to them. His smile gone.

  “What are ye about?” The tone had shifted to one of aggression. “Ye have not been sent for. Why are ye here?”

  “Breandan, what are ye about and who have ye got in there with ye?” Tadhg asked.

  “Oh, just let them in.” The whiny voice could be heard from within the tower now. A man’s voice.

  “Ye may come in. Open the gate.” Breandan shouted to someone within the walls and the gates were opened.

  Breandan’s head quickly disappeared within.

  “Breandan seems to be playing soldier with another man in yonder tower,” Sean said in a quiet voice.

  “Methinks ye’re right.” Tadhg’s surprise carried even in his whispered tone. “I had my own ideas regarding the man and his unusual predilection but I’d never thought he’d be so blatant about his preference for his own sex.”

  Sean glanced behind them as they entered through the gates. “Or while he was on duty no less.”

  “Mayhap I should mention it to Roland.”

  Sean looked thoughtful. “Why is he not aware of the goings-on here? And where are the troops of his household with all this happening?”

  His question was a valid one. Many of the soldiers they passed within the bailey, most which were not known to Tadhg, appeared intoxicated as well. Even the young boy who came to see to their horses was a bit shaky.

  Sean remained outside while Tadhg followed yet another unfamiliar man into the Great Hall. Roland sat in his chair, staring far off as if deep in thought.

  “A visitor.”

  Roland started when he finally noticed Tadhg. The smile that began quickly shifted to a frown.

  “What have ye here?”

  Tadhg forced his hands to his sides. A show of peace. His innards sloshed about in turmoil with the mixed emotions he felt. Rage. Betrayal. Love. Respect.

  “Roland. How fare ye?”

  “Is that what ye’ve come to ask?”

  “Be easy. My father has passed. I am seeing to my duty as chieftain.”

  Roland’s eyes rounded at his words but quickly narrowed again. He worked to hide his feelings for Padraig, but he was not successful.

  “My heart feels yer loss, Tadhg. I had great love for both yer parents.”

  The mention of his mother left a bad taste in Tadhg’s mouth. He cleared his throat and unclenched his hands, forcing them to remain at his sides. This course of civility was harder than he had anticipated. Best to get to the point of the visit.

  “My thanks. And how fare yer fields this harvest past?”

  Roland’s scowl did little to ease Tadhg’s tension. He wondered if he would respond at all but then he began a slow nod.

  “We have had a plentiful harvest. Our animals will not want for food. Neither will our people. Even a long winter will be of little hardship to us.”

  The blatant bragging caught Tadhg off guard. He hadn’t expected Roland to need to twist a knife in his back.

  “And ye?”

  Tadhg nearly choked on his gasp. The bastard. He knew exactly why Tadhg had come and he was not going to make it easy.

  “Tadhg,” Sean said as he entered the hall. “Roland.”

  Roland tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Ye’ve grown, Sean, if ‘tis even possible.”

  “Aye, I’ve grown several inches since last we met. And I train even harder now with not three but four opponents at a time.”

  The pressure of the knife eased a bit. The look of amazement that crossed Roland’s face made Sean’s boast well worth it.

  “Roman got away from the lad. I need yer horse to get him back. Should I wait for ye?”

  Tadhg glanced at Roland, measuring his increased anxiety before answering.

  “Nae. See to yer horse.”

  Roland kept his eyes on Sean until he was out of sight. He spoke without looking directly at Tadhg. “So what are ye about, Tadhg? Yer da saw fit to break our alliance and the betrothal.” The anger Tadhg saw in his eyes when he finally faced him was palatable. “Are ye here with yer tail between yer legs begging for food?”

  A melodious gasp from the far stairs had both men turning toward the woman standing there. Tisa. Her face was radiant where she stood surrounded by the sunlight filtering through the single window. Her eyes, indeed, sparkled. Tadhg had begun to think he imagined that. Her young figure had blossomed into a woman full-grown. A woman of great beauty.

  She took a step closer but stopped. Her lips parted. Her eyes wide. He drank in the sight of her from the long, dark tresses falling over her shoulders and hugging every curve, to her bare feet—yes, she was barefooted. His eyes met hers and he smiled. She’d always disliked having her feet covered, or her legs. Even foregoing warmer hose beneath her gown in the chill of winter.

  “I like the feel of my skin. It’s smooth and silky.”

  She had
been ten years old and barefoot, hunkered down in a foot of snow beside the roosting chickens, rummaging through the straw for eggs hidden by the hens. He was three and ten and became obsessed with the need to touch that silken skin.

  The sudden memory of her lips against his cheek hit him. Warm and soft. He’d dreamed of that kiss and much more over the years. Even imagined his own hands slipping up over those delicate feet, up her soft calves, and along her thighs to feel their softness.

  “Tadhg.” No doubt the only word she dare say without her father bidding her to speak. She sounded out of breath.

  Tadhg had to force himself not to close the distance between them. Not to take her in arms that ached to surround her. Not to press her voluptuous length against his own and feel her breath on his cheek and taste her mouth anew.

  She should be his. Surely she still could be. He glanced back to her father and licked his lips. If he used great diplomacy perhaps it could still work out.

  “Yea, Roland. I have come to make terms with ye. Otherwise my clan will not make it through the winter. I dunna ken—”

  “And I ken even less.” Roland’s voice boomed. “Ye come here begging for food? Well, there’s a price.”

  Tisa moved closer, her head down. She appeared guilty of...something. Tadhg could not understand. He needed to speak to her. Alone. To tell her how much he loved her still. And still wanted her as his wife no matter the cost to his own pride.

  “Name yer price.” He glanced toward Tisa before facing Roland.

  Roland grimaced. “Is that what ye want? Tisa? ‘Tis too late. She has been wed to another.”

  The room shifted beneath Tadhg. His throat squeezed tight. He couldn’t remember how to breathe.

  “But if ye still want my food—”

  Roland’s mouth was moving and Tadhg struggled to make sense of what he was saying. How could she be married? She was his.

  “—perhaps we can come to an agreement with ye offering all that we’ve ever needed from ye and yer clan—”

  Air burst into his lungs and Tadhg took a deep swallow. Roland continued talking but the light around them dimmed. No!