by Ashley York
Sean smiled at the lass beside him. “Thomasina, my time alone with ye has come to an end it seems.”
“Are these two from yer clan?” she asked.
Sean gave the men in question a withering look. “Aye, they are, but ken me well enough to ken not to bother me while in the company of a lovely lass even when ‘tis my own wife.”
“Wife?” Calum’s face, already suffused with blood from exertion, may well have reddened with embarrassment. Sean certainly believed he should be embarrassed at interrupting his seduction of his bride. Their time in the tiny boat had left no time to spend in such pursuits.
“Aye.”
“‘Tis not Brighit!” Cormac blurted out. His face reddened as well.
Thomasina’s face tightened. “Aye. I am not Brighit. I am the woman he loves.”
Sean stood taller. Quite a lass who’d willingly married him and she’d not be regretting it any time soon. They needed to get back to what they were about.
“Thomasina, this is Cormac and Calum Rua. My wife, Thomasina.”
“Pleased I am to meet ye, Thomasina,” Calum said.
Thomasina had said her piece apparently because she only dipped her head in acknowledgement.
“Now go on yer way, both of ye. Tarry not here on my account.”
“I need yer help, Sean. The O’Brien has not sent his supplies as promised.”
“Nae food has come from him?” Sean’s stomach tightened. While he’d been happily bedding the lass of his dreams his clan starved? “Explain yerself.”
“Provisions arrived regularly and then no more. I’m off to see to the matter. I’d hoped ye’d be closer behind me than this.” Calum glanced at the woman beside him, a skeptical expression still on his face. “But I see ye’ve been busy setting yer heart to rights.”
“More than that. I’ve been learning how deep true love can actually be.” Sean winked at Thomasina who smiled back. A beautiful smile. A smile that rivaled the loveliest sunrise. “So speak. What reason did they give?”
“Nae reason. I’d only just arrived and learned of the problem. Tadhg had set it up with the man.”
“I ken that, Calum. I was there. Get on with it!”
“They may have met with a mishap. We’ll soon be in dire straits.”
Sean sighed. Responsibility had arrived. From where they stood, Sean was as far from the O’Brien as he was from his own home.
He took Thomasina in his arms. “Can ye find it in yer heart to spend a bit more time alone with me before meeting the rest of my kinsmen?”
Sean picked up the long, auburn hair that rested on her bosom. He twirled it around his finger.
“Time with just ye?” Thomasina asked.
“Aye. Can ye stand me any longer?”
“Methinks I may be able to.”
Sean retrieved their few belongings and turned to Calum. “Give me the horse and head back with Cormac. If ye follow the river, ye’ll see where the deer have been hiding from ye. At the big rock, a stone’s throw east. Mayhap ye’ll be bringing back some food.” Sean mounted and reached an arm toward Thomasina, settling her in front of him. “Ration it as well as ye can. I’ll return when I’m able.”
Calum turned a wary eye on him. “Hold yer temper, Sean. We dunna need Roland O’Brien breaking the agreement because ye’ve offended the man.”
Sean tipped his head. “What are ye saying about me, Calum? And in front of my new wife?” He turned the horse in the direction of the O’Brien. “If yer brash words find me in a bad light with her, I’ll be kicking yer arse upon my return.”
With a shake of the reins, they were off. Heading back toward the coast, Thomasina rested against his chest. Her arms held tight around his waist and she smelled as sweet as a meadow in spring. It would be a long ride. If he’d had a mind to take his time, he’d certainly be slaking himself in her arms but the clan needing food was not to be taken lightly. That Roland O’Brien might blatantly disregard their agreement was not something Sean even wanted to consider. There’d be hell to pay if that were the case.
Close to nightfall, Sean and Thomasina finally arrived. The full moon reflected off the still meadows surrounding this side of the castle. Movement within the tower silhouetted in the moonlight eased Sean’s fear that the O’Brien had been attacked.
Thomasina shivered against him. She had said little. He thought her asleep.
“Are ye cold?”
“Aye.”
She rubbed her hands together and blew on them. He brought her tighter into the folds of his cloak. “Better?”
She shrugged.
“Is aught amiss, mo mhíle stór?”
Thomasina shook her head but refused to look at him. Sean reined in the horse. With a fingertip, he lifted her chin up so the moon shone on her bonny face.
“Thomasina, tell me, what troubles ye? Is there discomfort?” He placed a hand high on her thigh. “I dunna mean to cause ye pain.”
Sean adored this woman. She had the spirit of a young filly and the passion of an ocean storm. Nothing had ever felt as right as taking her in his arms, as if she were made for him alone. Their first time together had been pure ecstasy. She had, indeed, been a virgin. Unknown territory for him but he had kept his passion in check, choosing instead to open his wife to the intense fulfillment she could give as well as receive. He’d gone slowly, offering her pleasure before he took his own. The taste of her on his tongue, her responsiveness, etched in his heart. If he had caused her pain or if she were sore, he would move heaven and earth to ease it.
“And ye dinna.” She again shook her head, more forcibly this time. “Sean, ‘tis this Brighit.”
“Brig?” He hadn’t expected that. “What about her?’
Thomasina finally met his gaze, an imploring expression. “Ye loved her first.”
With a hand on the back of her head, he eased her toward him. Her lips as sweet as wine. He tucked her in close, her soft breasts pressed against his hard chest. She smelled of the earth and the ocean.
She didn’t resist. In fact, she kissed him back with much enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around his neck to urge him tighter still.
He reluctantly broke the kiss. He needed to look into her lovely, green eyes, let her see the sincerity. “My sweet Thomasina, ye are very wrong.”
Frowning her displeasure, she closed the distance to his mouth again. Her heavy breathing matched his own.
“It matters not. I want to feel ye in me again.” She spoke without breaking the kiss.
He took her shoulders and pulled her away.
She looked at him through hooded eyes filled with passion, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “What are ye about?”
Sean moaned at the lust-filled look, his own desire burgeoning. “Not when ye dunna understand.”
Thomasina frowned. “Understand?”
“Ye said I loved Brighit first.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter and moved to kiss him again.
“Wait.” He pulled his head back from her, struggling against his own desire to give her what she wanted. “I dinna ken what love was.”
“Ah, this is love.” She placed his hand over her breast and he caressed her, loving the weight of her in his hand. Her eyes closed and she leaned into him. Surly talking could come later. He moved closer to take her lips then jerked away.
“Wait! Hear me first. Carnal pleasure is not love. In the happiest marriages it is part of love.” When she started to speak, he held his finger to her lips. “Love is when a man trusts all that he is, gives all that he is, in the keeping of one woman that he places above all others. When she cares for him, accepts his protection, shares his joy and pain, and honors him with her love.”
Thomasina’s frown deepened.
“Men can take their pleasure almost anywhere.” He held up his hand. “Even by themselves.”
She giggled.
“Some men even think this lass or that lass would be most pleasurable. ‘Tis not love. ‘Tis just taking th
e pleasure.” He swiped her hair away from her face and covered her mouth with his, moving over her with the intensity of the love he felt for her. Pulling back, he sighed his longing. She was the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. “Ye, Thomasina, are the only lass I have ever loved. When my soul reaches out to ye and draws ye in close, just as yer own body takes me into yerself, we are truly one. Body and soul. That is the pleasure in the fulfillment of true love. That is the love I have for ye alone. None other. Ever. Mo chroí go deo thú.”
She tucked her shoulder up, an endearing gesture she used when she was unsure of herself.
“I dunna understand then,” she said. “What did ye feel for this Brighit if ‘twas not love?”
“Until we met, I dinna ken love. Ye were right that I was afeared of ye.”
“Afeared of me?”
“Aye and ye said as much.”
“I said that?”
“Aye, in one of yer mouthier moments.”
“I dunna have mouthy moments.”
“Aye, ye do.” Sean waited for her to respond. Although she said nothing, her eyes were focused on him. “So I thought I was just lusting after ye—greatly—but at the inn, I needed ye to trust me. To believe in me. To believe I had yer back whatever ye were about. None were going to hurt ye with me there.”
“And if I trusted ye? And then ye left me?” Thomasina’s eyes rounded with the pain she no doubt was remembering.
“I dinna ken yet that I loved ye and that ye could love me back. When yer brother arrived, it seemed ye had nae use for me or how strong I felt for ye. That was why I left.”
Thomasina wrapped her arms around him. “I died inside when I saw how they’d beat ye.”
“Wheesht, lass. I’ve been beaten worse by my own kinsmen.”
Her tears dampened his shoulder.
“I’m thinking I’ve shared too much if ye need to cry so.”
She clung tighter. “I dinna ken I could care so much as I do for ye.”
Sean squeezed her just as tight. If he could but share the intensity of his love for her through his touch alone. Mayhap after a lifetime together.
“Then we are well suited, indeed. Destined to be together since before time began.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
~
“Stand up slowly before I cut yer head clean off.”
Sean’s eyes focused on the tip of the blade at the end of his nose. He raised his arms above his bared chest to show he was unarmed.
“Where are ye going?” Thomasina spoke to him without opening her eyes.
“Wheesht. Go back to sleep,” Sean whispered before responding to the mail-clad man before him. “I have nae weapon. Can ye draw down yer sword?”
With great effort, Sean worked to not reveal his true feelings to this unknown man but his blood was pounding through his veins. He could easily rip the man’s head from his shoulders.
No response.
“If ye lower yer sword, ‘twill be possible for me to stand as ye asked.”
Thomasina picked her head up from Sean’s shoulder with an irritated scowl. “What are ye about?”
The soldier lowered his weapon enough for Sean to stand.
“Wheesht. Stay down, mo mhíle stór.” He urged her back to the ground. Her eyes were finally opening. She looked to be struggling to make sense of the commotion around them. Sean felt the same.
When he was standing to his full height, two more soldiers trained their weapons on him as if afraid of him. Their faces obscured by their helms, they shifted to a more defensive stance. Good. Waking a sleeping warrior was never a wise move.
“What do ye here?”
The soldier to Sean’s left had noticed Thomasina’s unclothed state. A greasy smile was making its way across his shadowed face. She yanked the brat over her shoulders and glared back at him.
“Back down!” Sean gave the man a menacing look. He could take these three and more if it were a matter of protecting her. “What do ye want with me?”
“Ye’re not an O’Brien,” the first soldier spoke but was also showing an interest in Thomasina now.
“And neither are ye.” Sean moved right, obscuring their view.
“And how do ye ken that?”
“I ken these lands and their people. We’ve come to see Roland O’Brien. The gates were closed and we decided to pass the time out here.”
“And we see what ye were passing yer time with.” The greasy one wiped at his face.
The three soldiers chuckled.
“Back off.” Sean jerked toward the man as if to attack him.
Greasy stepped back, dropping the tip of his sword before raising it again and giving Sean his complete attention.
“Roland would not like ye molesting his guests.”
The first soldier ran his tongue over his teeth. “Ye’re not a guest.”
“‘Tis just sun up now. We will be coming to him when the gates are open.”
The same man glanced Thomasina’s way. “They’re open now.”
“Yea, why dunna we help ye get in to see the man.”
It was clear these men were waiting with bated breath to catch a glimpse of Thomasina as she dressed. That would not be happening.
“Methinks ye dunna ken Roland as I do.” Sean eased into his storytelling voice, a keen eye on each of them. “There was a man who once spoke to his daughter—merely spoke—while she was out searching for her herbs one day. She told her father of the man. And what did her father do? Roland put the man to the spike.”
The men shifted. One blanched but kept his eyes averted from both Sean and Thomasina. The greasy man rubbed at himself, flexed his shoulders and glanced back toward the castle as if gauging the distance.
“I’ll make yer presence known to the O’Brien. What is yer name?”
“I am Sean of the MacNaughton Clan. He kens me well.”
“And who is this? Will she be coming in with ye or was she only keeping ye warm for the night?”
“Hold yer tongue! She is my wife.”
“Aye.” The man tipped his nose perhaps in an attempt at a threatening look but all the men quickly withdrew toward the castle.
“Thomasina,” Sean dropped beside her to take her in his arms, “ye handled yerself well.”
“I dinna. I was scared.” She pulled away to face him. “I need to get some guts.”
Sean tried not to laugh. “Let us get ye dressed first. Then we’ll see to the guts.”
Roland O’Brien was abed, a priest at his bedside. Sean directed Thomasina to wait at the door and quietly approached the man. The room was dark and the smell of sickness permeated the air, making it difficult to take a breath.
“Is he near death?” Sean asked the priest who was putting away his vestments.
“He may be close. They sent me word that he was no longer aware of his surroundings.”
“Has he spoken to ye?”
The priest shook his head.
“Sean?” Roland spoke in a strong voice. “Is that ye, Sean?”
“Aye, Roland. ‘Tis me.”
The priest shrugged and sat on the stool beside the bed.
“Tisa.”
Sean felt a fist to his gut. If something was wrong with Tisa, he would have to send word to Tadhg. “Aye?”
Roland reached toward Sean. After a moment’s hesitation, Sean took the man’s hand. It was surprisingly strong.
“Please, Sean, go to her. See that she is well.”
“Where is she?”
Roland covered his face with his other hand. “I have done her wrong, Sean. I have wed her to a cruel man. Cruel like his father. I have wronged my sweet Tisa. She will never forgive me.”
The priest widened his eyes and shook his head. Sean locked his jaw. The church did not want to know about the cruelty of a man toward his own wife even when it violated their own beliefs.
“Do ye ken who she is wed to?” He directed the question at the priest.
“The Meic Lochlainn. A prominent norther
n clan.”
Prominent meaning wealthy. Wealth they didn’t need to take from the church.
Roland wiped at his cheeks. “She is wed to Darragh of the Meic Lochlainn. But I fear for her safety.”
“Then why did ye allow him to take her to wife?” Sean fought to maintain his composure. A sick room was no place for a show of his temper.
“I could not sit here like a mole on a rock just waiting for the hawk to swoop down on me. I needed protection.”
“Ye should have worked out an agreement with Tadhg when he came to ye.” Sean’s voice rose to the same level as Roland’s. He seemed less at death’s door and more racked with guilt.
Roland’s eyes widened. “‘Twas too late! Darragh had taken her.”
Sean swallowed down the anger building in him. “Tadhg loves Tisa. He would have saved her from the man if ye’d but told him the truth. He would gladly lay down his life for her.”
“I could not.”
Thomasina came to stand behind Sean, a hand on his shoulder. He felt strength in her touch and took a deep breath before speaking again. “What would ye have me do?”
“Please. Go to them. See how she fares. Bring me back word that she is well that I may die in peace.”
Thomasina squeezed his shoulder, a look of concern on her face. She nodded as if in consent. Sean didn’t believe the man was anywhere near death, only that he was, indeed, overcome with remorse.
“Aye, Roland O’Brien. I will go and see that Tisa is well. And ye send the provisions to the MacNaughtons as ye promised.”
Roland nodded his head. “‘Twill be done.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
~
York, England
With the short days growing even shorter, Peter and John were both wishing to be somewhere other than at the castle in York. No doubt, John dreamed of being back in Rowena’s arms in Essex just as Peter dreamed of having Brighit to himself in that huge bed of Bishop Odo’s.
“I do not believe there was much else we could have done that we had not done.” Mort rubbed at the helmet gripped in his hand, polishing it before putting it back on his head. “I arrived in time and gave him your protection, my lord. Sean is, no doubt, home with his wife even now.”
