The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  Malcolm came to stand beside her. “But yer husband asked ye to be with him. He needed ye there.”

  Tisa had sensed a change in the way this man spoke of Darragh of late. “And yer concern?”

  “Ye show he’s a man ye respect by doing as he bids.”

  She searched what little she could see beneath his overgrown beard. He had heard about their night together. It could have been Malcolm who’d been watching. Darragh had said only that he knew someone was there but not who.

  “I do respect my husband.”

  “Saying is one thing. Doing ‘tis another.”

  Tisa glanced at Caireann who had looked up from her own mending. Her eyes were wide with concern. Learning that Tisa’s husband did not even desire to lay with her had surely been hard enough for the girl. To see Darragh in a passionate embrace with another man must have sent her mind in a tizzy. There had been no time for them to talk of the events. Mayhap she would get a chance now if Breandan and Malcolm left them alone.

  “Go on, Breandan. I’ve the wool to keep me warm. ‘Twill be but a short distance. Go on now.”

  Malcolm shook his head but followed the lad out the door.

  “Come closer, Caireann, so we can speak.”

  Caireann brought the stool and stood beside her.

  “Sit!” The girl had been acting even more timid than usual. “Do ye not wish to speak with me?”

  Caireann plopped down. “I do, but I wish to ken what ye have done with my friend.”

  “I dinna understand.”

  “Ye are not my dear friend. Ye are someone else. I swear it.”

  She clasped Caireann’s cold hand. “Ye are still my dear friend. Please. Dunna say I have changed so much.”

  “Yer husband is a sodomite! And ye do nothing to stop him.”

  Tisa cringed at the condemnation. “What would ye have me do? He is kind to me. Do ye not see how he cares for me? Provides for me at our meal? Even while the one he would choose to be with looks on?”

  Caireann’s look of censure left little room for acceptance.

  “His father wanted to take me the night of our wedding. He would have used me and passed me around his men so that they, too, could use me.”

  Her friend’s eyes rounded in disbelief, her head shook. “Nae! He would not.”

  “He would! That is the way it is here.” Tisa chose her words carefully. “Darragh sought to protect me from them. I am grateful to him. He is a kind man.”

  Emotions flitted across Caireann’s face as she struggled to make sense of the situation she found herself in.

  “Please. Do not think on what upsets ye. See the man for who he is.”

  “I will try.” Caireann wrapped her arms around Tisa, holding her tightly against her. “I cry for ye each night that ye are away from the man ye love.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes but Tisa refused to give in. It was a waste of her strength. She cleared her throat. “I will do what needs to be done here.”

  Caireann pulled away, smiling at her friend. “Ye have such strength. I will endeavor to be the same.”

  Tisa kissed Caireann’s cheek before standing to stretch her back. She blew a breath. Malcolm was correct that Darragh wanted her there and she did not want to disappoint Darragh. She should have just gone with him. Now she had to walk in while everyone was seated, all eyes upon her. Grabbing at the wool covering, she wrapped herself tight.

  “Can ye gather the mending? I dunna believe this will be a short day for any of us.”

  The wind pressed against her so hard she had to shove the door closed behind them. Dark clouds were back, hanging heavy around the village where they drifted up from the cove. The Godwin had chosen a wild day to finally arrive. Loud music drifted to her the closer she got to the longhouse. The still damp earth sucked at her feet as she passed over it, the forceful wind doing its best to dry the area.

  Lights flooded through the tiny openings of the longhouse and onto the road. Despite it being midday, the darkness required the aid of candles. The door was flung open by a young couple. They stumbled out, laughing and talking. At the sight of her, they stiffened, almost as if they’d been discussing her. What a silly notion. They rushed by without even a greeting. Tisa’s stomach gurgled.

  She was, indeed, far from the bosom of a loving clan that held her in high regard. Hoping to sneak in unnoticed, she hadn’t expected the music to halt, cheers, and raised glasses when she entered. Darragh approached, pecked her cheek, and took her covering.

  He had a relaxed smile and pleasure fairly poured out of him. “Ye took a long while.”

  Merely a statement and not intended as censure, she felt certain.

  Glancing around, Tisa watched as Caireann joined the others then lowered her voice. “I was in no hurry to be here.”

  Darragh led her toward the head table but his eyes clouded with concern. “Are ye not well?”

  She felt guilty at her churlish behavior and sighed. “I have not felt myself ‘tis all.”

  Aodh stood and moved his seat so that she could join the group. “Daughter! Mayhap ye’re with child.”

  He’d overheard her comment? Expecting a lustful gaze from him, she instead found him grinning at the dark-haired man beside him. The Godwin, no doubt. That he was settled in Aodh’s seat of honor confirmed it. The young couple that usually sat at the far end was settled beside the older woman with the bulging eyes. The two had never found a reason to speak to her. Darragh’s explanation that he was the old chieftain’s son and to stay clear was a warning she heeded well.

  “I dunna believe ‘twould be so quick, Father.”

  “Ah, ye ken best.” Aodh stood, cup in hand and addressed those gathered in the hall. “Now that my daughter has arrived, let us begin this celebration.” The smile he sent her way seemed genuine. “Kinsmen, this is a proud time for our clan. Ye ken for generations we have opened our arms to any returning children, and children of children, who have left our shores to start anew elsewhere. Like the prodigal son, we welcomed them back to our shores with a fatted calf,” he motioned to the meat roasting over the fire, “and a good mead,” he lifted his glass, “and celebrate their fortune, good or ill. Today, we welcome back a Godwin, Leofrid, son of Tostig, and his lovely lady Abigail” He lifted the cup higher. All drank.

  The dark woman beside Leofrid took a sip from her cup and made a face of disdain before returning it to the table. Godwin stood.

  “Happy I am to be back among ye. My lady,” it took quite a bit of coaxing to get Abigail to stand, “and I are here to celebrate yer good fortune with the joining of yer own Darragh and the Lady Tisa from of the O’Brien Clan.” He turned toward her and raised his glass. “And a mighty clan it is. Welcome, Lady Tisa.”

  The applause burst forth. Many came to their feet and turned toward her, smiling. Darragh stood and encouraged her to stand as well.

  “Welcome to ye, Leofrid. Lady Abigail.” Darragh’s loud voice carried over the cheers and applause. He exuded a new confidence. “And may this be the first of many more celebrations to come.”

  Aodh motioned to the cook and the procession of heavy-laden platters began, their table first. Malcolm had entered during Aodh’s speech and stepped forward as taster. Darragh beamed with pride beside her. Aodh spoke with Ronan who sat on the far side of the Godwin couple. The woman appeared bored.

  This warm reception eased her tension but Tisa couldn’t begin to understand the sudden change. Breandan had settled at a table far to the left with several families who seemed to welcome him. He smiled and accepted the mead poured for him from the clay pitcher.

  “Yer rushes have been seen to, mistress.” Malcolm had come up beside Darragh and addressed her. When he placed a huge hand on her husband’s shoulder, Darragh stiffened. “I have been remiss in not offering my well wishes on yer marriage these many weeks. The best to ye and Tisa, Darragh.”

  Darragh’s surprise was replaced by a smile. “My thanks, Malcolm. Glad I am that ye’ll be here to guard
my lovely wife in my absence.” He turned toward her. “She is not a treasure I’d lose lightly.”

  Malcolm bowed and withdrew.

  Darragh turned his attention to the platter a lanky lad extended toward him. Perhaps seven and ten, the boy glanced at her husband again and again almost as if hoping to catch his attention. When Darragh had made his selection, he did finally notice him. The lad offered a coy smile and moved away.

  Darragh’s happy facade dropped, showing deep pain. Raw emotion. He struggled for composure.

  Tisa put a hand on his arm. “Who is he?” Her heart quickened. “Is he not from this clan?”

  “Aye, he is—he was...Father sent him with Leofrid the last time he was here. I have not seen him...”

  A former lover? She squeezed his hand and he turned to her. “Dunna fash yerself.” She kissed his palm and smiled. “Let us celebrate while we may.”

  Darragh exhaled a slow breath and attempted to smile. “He was just—he had been sent with another who was very dear to me.”

  The man Aodh had spoken of. His first. The pain was there again in his eyes.

  “Dunna ye agree, Darragh?” His father was speaking to him.

  “My thanks.” He nodded then looked past her to his father. “Speak louder, Father. I dinna hear ye.”

  “When we go south, we will surely be seeing many heroes that day.”

  “Oh, yea, surely. Men who go willingly for glory into battle.”

  “And we pray ye will be among them that will return from battle unharmed to a hero’s welcome,” Ronan said, lifting his golden mug in the air. “Even in practice ye show ye have much strength, Darragh.”

  “He does indeed. Like his father.”

  Darragh smiled and raised his glass. “Victory will surely be ours.”

  “Aye.” They all drank deeply.

  Tisa couldn’t manage to swallow her food for the lump in her throat. She gazed out across the room and noticed the number of occupants had increased. Tables had been squeezed in at odd angles to accommodate the huge crowd. Armed soldiers stood along the walls, eating as best they could manage.

  A huge battle was planned. Planned with many warriors. A battle that would place Aodh Meic Lochlainn at the place of highest honor, High King of Eire. For the first time, Tisa wondered who this Godwin was. Why did he not expect the honor of High King over Eire? No doubt Darragh could explain. When she turned to ask him, she was startled to find Lady Abigail watching her.

  The woman had a fair complexion and dark hair that hung around her like a mantle. She could see why Leofrid took this one as his lady. She was beautiful. A tight smile crossed her face before she turned away.

  Tisa felt suddenly plain. She rested her hands in her lap. No one noticed. Leofrid saw to his lady despite her lack of enthusiasm for any of the food offered her. Aodh, Darragh, and Ronan continued with their incessant plans. Leofrid spoke little but any suggestions he made were accepted with little discussion.

  A leather-clad man paused at the back door as if searching out someone in particular. He wore a rounded shield over his shoulder, a deadly looking sword as his sidearm, and an ornate, circular brooch at his shoulder, securing his brat. He removed his helm, approached the table and dropped to a knee before Godwin.

  “My lord.”

  Leofrid stood to accept the man’s offer of respect. No doubt, he was one of his own men. “Yea. What news have ye?”

  “The clans to the west have laid down their weapons, my lord. Ye have won the day.”

  “Huzzah!” roared from all present.

  Leofrid tipped his head back and smiled. A slow smile that started from some inner place of satisfaction for a job well done.

  “Gerrit.” Darragh’s voice was a strangled whisper.

  Tisa grabbed his hand. “Are ye not well?”

  “Well done, Gerrit!” Leofrid said. “A better man-at-arms there has never been. Ye made a great gift to me with this one, Aodh.”

  Gerrit remained on one knee, his head lowered before his lord.

  Darragh’s eyes remained on the dark soldier.

  “Gerrit! Rise! Join us for this celebration. Our reasons for celebrating increase yet again.” Leofrid’s happiness was uncontainable as he continued speaking to Aodh. “Not only do we have yer son’s momentous marriage to Tisa O’Brien but now another victory. Music!”

  The musicians who had stopped to partake of the food were quickly following his orders. Gerrit rose as well and turned his intense gaze on Tisa. She sucked in her breath, struck by the force of his attention as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

  A handsome man. Dark stubble covering his strong jaw. His dark brows deepening the blue of his eyes. A small smile turning up the corners of his mouth, he quirked one brow then turned his attention to Darragh.

  Darragh blanched. His shoulders slumped. His eyes rounded as if in pain.

  Gerrit seemed to hold him mesmerized and neither turned away. Tisa cleared her throat. The spell broken, the leathered man faced the Godwin.

  “My lord, I have just now arrived to give ye this news. I must see to my men and the horses. With yer permission, I will return when I have completed my duties and am in a more presentable state.”

  “So be it. Rest easy, Gerrit. I am more than well pleased with ye. Be off. See to whatever ye need to.” Leofrid looked over the others dining. “Many a comely damsel here. Whatever ye like. Return whenever it pleases ye and we will hear the stories of our victory.”

  Gerrit just fell short of clicking his heels together and turned from the room. All eyes followed him including Darragh’s. The sadness Tisa saw there was all she needed to know. This was the first man he’d fallen in love with.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ~

  SEAN TUCKED HIS LONG, deer hide brat tight around his sleeping wife. That she lay naked against him and was well satiated did little to dissuade his own body’s strong desire to take her again. He had time. They had their whole lives ahead of them.

  Contentment settled on his chest like a purring cat. Being sent back to Drogheda ahead of Tadhg was the last thing Sean had wanted to do. Coming to the aid of this fetching lass along the way had certainly improved his disposition. Especially when that aid included taking her to wife.

  His arrival home came with responsibilities he would rather not face. Not yet. This may be his last time to be alone with his new wife. He was no hurry to see it end.

  Thomasina moaned beside him, seeking his lips even while not fully awake. He kissed her with all the passion she provoked in him. She was perfect in every way.

  “Do we need to get walking again?”

  They had quite a ways to go yet and the crossing had not been an easy one.

  “Nae. Sleep. There’s time yet. But first,” even the smell of her roused his desire. Mayhap with the right persuasion...he nibbled her ear and whispered. “I want ye again, mo mhíle stór.”

  She smiled in his direction. “Mmm.”

  He moved to her shoulder, stroking with his tongue, nibbling more persistently. “Is that a yea?”

  Thomasina stretched her neck. Running his hand across her chest, he enjoyed the feel of her nipples hardening against his palm. He grabbed a full breast, tipping his head to suckle a rosy peak. She arched into him. One hand slid along her hip, gliding between her legs that parted quite invitingly.

  “If ye insist.” He traveled down her belly, smattering nibbles and kisses as he went. She rocked against his hand so hard that the vibration through the ground reminded him of a galloping horse.

  Sean jerked his head up. That was a galloping horse. And it was coming very close.

  “Stay here.” Sean covered her, pulled his leine over him, and belted his sword at his waist.

  A large tree was the perfect place to hide...and wait. If there was no need, he would not show himself but allow the rider to pass. He couldn’t be certain if he was on MacNaughton or O’Brien land this close to the sea. The brown courser seemed familiar and the red head of the
rider confirmed it. Slightly behind the redhead was the lad, Cormac. Sean had two choices. Stay hidden and enjoy feasting on his wife a little longer or let Calum know he had arrived safely home.

  “Sean?” Calum Rua called out, his breathing heavy from his fast ride. He reined in the horse and the younger lad did the same. The light color of the brat was too bright against the dark brush. Sean hadn’t thought of that. Calum’s eye was drawn to it.

  Damn. Sean licked his lips. He would have chosen to continue enjoying his wife if he’d had a choice but he did not.

  “Dress quickly. I’ll keep him from ye,” Sean called to Thomasina in a hushed tone then stepped into the open on the far side of the tree, diverting the riders’ path from where Thomasina donned her clothes beneath the large covering.

  “Aye. Calum the Red.”

  Calum turned to him, his surprised expression shifted to a huge grin. “It’s about time ye made it back. I thought ye were just shirking yer responsibilities.”

  Sean winced. He meant no harm but Sean would prefer his wife’s first impression of how others saw him not be as a shirker. “Keep yer tongue in yer head, lad.”

  “Lad?”

  Damn. Calum could never let anything slip past.

  “Ye sound more like Tadhg than—” The man’s eyes widened at the sight of something beyond Sean. He looked like a fish out of water with his mouth gaping and no sound coming forth.

  With a deep sigh, Sean turned to Thomasina. He stepped close enough to yank out the bit of twisted skirt tucked into her hastily belted waist.

  He kissed her pert little nose and whispered. “Sweet Thomasina, methinks ye intentionally reveal yerself to me so that I will not be able to keep my hands off of ye.”

  Thomasina smiled then peered past him to the men still atop their horses. “The redhead seems upset. Any chance he can be quickly dispatched so that we may see to that urge?”

  “I will do my best.” Sean turned back toward Calum. “Speak or be gone.”

  “Sean! What to hell are ye doing out here? And with such a comely lass and one I’ve never seen before?” The man was still out of breath when he jumped off his horse.