The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  “Ah, Father,” Darragh said in a voice loud enough to carry above the din. “Apologies for my tardiness.” He pulled her alongside him, tucking her against him when he stopped in front of his father. “I had a difficult time tearing myself away from my enticing wife.”

  “And a fetching wife, she is, Darragh.” Aodh led them to the table before the fire. “No grandchild yet? Ye just keep trying, son.”

  “Oh, I am, Father.” He kissed the side of her head. “I certainly am.”

  Tisa sat beside her father-in-law, Darragh so close beside her that their bodies touched. When the food was brought out, many settled down at the few tables around them, the rest stood against the walls of the small inn. Darragh brushed her hair away and kissed her cheek before offering her a trencher, heavy with meat juices.

  “We’ll keep up her strength in preparation of the event.” His eyes locked on to hers when she didn’t immediately take the bread. A warning. Tisa accepted the food from Darragh.

  “And keep up her strength for the making of it.” Aodh laughed, his mouth full of food.

  His father believed all that Darragh told him. His father wanted to believe him. She lifted the bread to her mouth, catching sight of Gerrit where he stood against the far wall, his eyes fixed on her. He smiled, that tilted smile he had when he spoke of his own prowess. She hesitated before biting into the bread and looked away. With difficulty, she swallowed. The mead was passed but she reached for the same that Aodh was drinking. Darragh blocked her hand, allowing the cup to pass them.

  “Do ye need this? We would not want ye too relaxed.” He gave her his own mead. “This will do for ye tonight, wife.”

  She swallowed down the liquid, her eyes closing, then lifted it for more. Darragh covered the hand that held the mug with his own, forcing her to bring it down to the table. He moved in close and kissed her again, his tongue invading her mouth before he ended the kiss. “Dunna get any ideas about becoming drunk, sweet little Tisa. More slips happen when drunk.”

  Her eyes filled in her humiliation. “Why are ye doing this, Darragh? Few couples display such blatant, unquenchable desires. Have I given ye any reason?”

  Darragh dipped his head and took a drink from the now full cup. When he looked at her, his own eyes were bright with suspicion.

  “There are many seeking my downfall, that would lure ye into their web of deceit. I dunna want to learn the hard way that ye succumbed by finding yer legs spread with someone else betwixt them.”

  Her jaw dropped but she quickly recovered. “‘Tis ye alone that go to someone else.”

  He moved in close, hissing her silent. She searched around those closest but saw no one’s eyes on them.

  “I’ll admit that I’ve often wondered why that was, why ye never objected to my preferences, or why ye allowed it.”

  Tisa moved in closer, her words for him alone. “Because I want my husband happy!”

  He raised his brows expectantly, his eyes on her, and waited but she did not understand. Humiliation washed over her. When she tried to stand, he grasped her hand to keep her seated. “I dinna bid ye to go. Ye need to stay with me this night.”

  Aodh frowned in their direction.

  “Yer father is wondering if something is amiss,” she said.

  “And ye will stay and convince him it is not.”

  Tisa tipped her head in acquiescence. Darragh handed her his cup of mead and turned to his father. As soon as they started talking, she downed the cup. It was not very good and it did not numb her as the other drink did. She glanced out over the men’s faces, they were deep in their cups able to drink much more and much faster than she was. She envied them.

  Darragh leaned toward his father, speaking with great gusto to the man on the other side. Mayhap that was the man he’d dressed for, not Tadhg. She searched him out. He was not in the room. There were only Meic Lochlainn men as had been the way of it the entire journey. The MacNaughton warriors were kept away. She heaved a sigh and looked down at her sopping bread.

  A gold cup appeared next to her. She followed the hand to find the innkeeper standing beside her.

  “For ye.”

  The amber liquid in the cup was a boon and she smiled at the man. Darragh was paying her little attention now.

  The liquid went down smooth and he refilled the cup.

  “My thanks.”

  “Not me, my lady.” The innkeeper directed her to the far side of the room. Gerrit raised his cup to her. The innkeeper stepped away to disappear in the crowd.

  Sweat broke out on her forehead and her breath tightened in her chest. She put the cup down with trembling fingers.

  “I need to leave, Darragh,” she said.

  He swatted at her and kept his eyes on the man he spoke with.

  “Now, Darragh, I am not well.”

  “Ye ken the way.” He spoke over his shoulder at her.

  So much for his show of interest in her. On shaky legs, she stood. The man on the other side of Aodh was a soldier she often saw Darragh in conversation with. Ronan’s commander of the guard. The room shifted beneath her, her arms flew out to catch herself. She lowered her head closer to Darragh.

  “Please, I am not well. I think—”

  “Then return to the room.” Darragh turned his angry eyes on her. His mouth was a tight, thin line. He turned back to the captain.

  Aodh had moved to the other side of the captain, a hefty wench on his lap. Her large breasts close to his face. The room dimmed then brightened. She could not stay here.

  Groping along the wall, she made her way through the hall. Men pushed against her, only moving at the last minute. They paid her little heed. When the stairs came into focus, she struggled to move closer, her legs heavy. A firm hand gripped her waist, giving her aid through the men that now stepped aside. The steps were but a few feet away when she turned to offer her thanks. Gerrit’s bright blue eyes looked down at her, a huge grin on his bearded face.

  “Did ye wish to offer yer gratitude for my assistance?”

  Fear lurched in her chest but settled back down, leaving her numb. He lifted her into his arms. No words came out. The scream trapped in her throat.

  “Allow me to bring ye to a place where ye can show me proper gratitude.”

  Gerrit carried her away from the stairs, taking her out and into the darkness. She lurched forward, trying to break free, but her movements were awkward. He held her tight against him.

  “With what have ye poisoned me?” she asked.

  “Poisoned? Never. Relaxed ye only. I wished for ye to enjoy our time.” His eyes twinkling when he looked down at her. “Yer first time.”

  Out in the night air, he strode toward the trees. Then she was on a blanket, the smell of horse dung surrounding her.

  “Nae.” She pushed herself up before Gerrit pressed her back, flat, with little effort.

  He lay beside her, looking down at her, a hand caressing her cheek. “Oh, yea, sweet little Tisa. Did ye think I’d not have my way with ye?”

  His bright blue eyes hovered over her before his lips brushed against her cheek then moved to her lips, pausing there. “I always get what I want.”

  Tisa tried to shake her head but he clamped a hand to her chin, his tongue pressing against hers with feverish strokes. When he broke the kiss, he was breathing hard.

  “I’ve a great need for ye. I want to be the first to master yer comely body.”

  “Nae.” Her voice sounded so small.

  “Oh aye.” His lips shifting to her neck, his hand groped at her breasts. Then her dress was laid open, the cool night air on her skin. She’d foregone the chemise that reeked of body odor.

  “Stop.”

  “Stop? Why would I stop?”

  Gripping her breast, he sucked at her nipple, drawing it into his hot mouth and stroking it with his tongue.

  “No one will stop us this time.” His hot hand grazed her skin, working its way between her thighs. His hand stopped and he lifted his head. “Ah, sweet little
Tisa, ye disappoint me.”

  Covering her, his huge body forced her legs far apart. His hips dug into her, no doubt bruising her. He rubbed his stiff shaft against her. “Where is my passionate lover?”

  Tisa spit at him. “I’ll not be yer lover. Ye defiler of all innocents!”

  Gerrit drew back, wiping the spittle from his cheek, an odd expression on his face. “I defile no one. I give them what they want.”

  “I dunna want this!”

  The herbs were wearing off. Anger surged through her and she fought him, straining her legs against the invasion. He slapped her hard. Her head jerked back.

  “Methinks ye do.”

  “Then ye ken ye’re raping me, not taking me willingly.”

  “I just ken ye like it rougher than I first believed.”

  “I dunna want ye at all.”

  Gerrit frowned. “Ye did when I found ye in the woods. I smelled yer desire. Ye were wet with desire.”

  “Ye’re wrong. ‘Twas not ye I wanted.”

  “Ye’re lying to yerself.” He yanked down his hose and lowered himself. The tip of his tarse hot against her skin.

  “Dunna.” She turned her head aside.

  Gerrit did not shift to the juncture of her legs as she expected. Abruptly he stood and covered himself. A horse came up behind them and he strode toward the rider.

  “What is amiss here?” Tadhg’s sweet voice carried to her. She stood up and pulled her gown to close, wrapping the tie around her.

  “There is naught amiss. A lover’s tryst is all.”

  Tadhg searched beyond, his eyes fell on her. “Is that so?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then I will speak to the lady and hear it from her mouth.”

  “She does not wish her husband to learn of this.”

  “And I will not be dissuaded from hearing it from her mouth.” Tadhg dismounted. “Come forth.”

  Tisa walked toward Tadhg, her lungs filling with cool, night air and exultation. He examined her closely before he spoke. “Are ye here willingly?”

  “I am not.”

  Gerrit roared. “She plays me false! She came here of her own accord.”

  Tadhg reached his hand toward her, his somber expression never changing. Heat rippled through her at his firm grasp and she went to him. “Do ye wish to leave?”

  “I do.”

  Tadhg mounted and caught her up, settling her in front of him. She wasn’t sure if her shallow breathing now was from fear, the herbs, or her closeness to Tadhg. He was rock solid beside her. An anchor in the storm that was her life.

  Gerrit fisted his hands at his hips, an inscrutable expression. He said not a word but she could feel him following them with his eyes.

  An arm on either side of her, Tadhg urged the horse forward. She dare not move. She dare not speak. She dare not look at Tadhg or he would surely know the joy in her heart at being so near him. Her hero. His scent surrounded her. She longed to wrap an arm about his waist, to snuggle her head against his chest and hear his heart beating, to feel his lips on hers.

  “Do ye need a moment before I return ye to yer husband?”

  Tadhg’s voice held no emotion, no hint of what he was feeling. Tisa exhaled quietly to calm her pounding heart before she answered him.

  “I do.” She could not say more than that, not without revealing her inner turmoil.

  Leading his mount down the road, he veered off toward the coastline. The moon disappeared behind the clouds, the surf heard but no longer seen. Tadhg dismounted and reached up to help her down before crossing to the water, leaving her behind.

  The night birds called in the distance. The water crashed against the rocks. She wished she could speak of her longing to be his but Tadhg gave no indication he felt the same. He seemed cold now. Unapproachable. Not the man she remembered. She missed his ready smile. The way his eyes twinkled when he laughed. The way he held her against him.

  Tears fell but she did not approach him. He stood stiff beside the water, gazing off toward the horizon.

  “When ye have composed yerself, I will return ye.” He spoke without facing her.

  “Thank ye.”

  What could she have done to deserve this life? What great transgression had she committed to be ripped away from the man she loved, the man she would give up the rest of her life for just one night in his arms, to be completely his?

  Oh God, please forgive me. I beg for yer mercy, Lord. Allow me this moment. Let me ken again his gentle kiss, the feel of his arms safely surrounding me.

  Tadhg faced her. “I do need to return to my men.”

  Tisa dropped her head. “Aye.”

  He mounted and reached down to her, placing a hand at her waist to steady her. His hand was hot. The horse was not urged forward. His breath fanned against her face. She closed her eyes and imagined things were different. This was her love and they were headed to their own home where he would take her in his arms and make love to her. They would talk of their future and make plans for a family.

  She opened her eyes and turned to him. “Is aught amiss?”

  His eyes were on her. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she held her breath, wetting her dry lips.

  “Nae.” He looked past her and urged the horse forward, his hand dropping away.

  She stiffened against the tears. Loud noises carried to them, the men had moved their celebration outside. Her gut tightened. She couldn’t be found with Tadhg. She put a hand to his chest and he took a quick breath.

  Tisa turned to him. “Ye can let me down here.”

  It was a moment before he responded. “Nae, ye are not safe here.”

  “The men are about.” Panic rose within her as did her voice. “Please. No closer.”

  She made to get down on her own but he halted the horse and assisted her. She moved toward the throng, searching out Darragh or Aodh. They could not see her with him. Not now.

  “Tisa!” One drunken soldier addressed her.

  Her body tensed.

  “Is the privy that way?” Another man scratched at his head, a thoughtful frown on his face.

  She slipped past without responding.

  “Tisa!” Darragh called to her from closer to the building, the red-headed captain close at his side. He could not have seen Tadhg. “I will be up anon.”

  Fury gripped her innards.

  She stomped past them and into the building where a good many warriors still sat, some playing games, others making moves on the wenches that Aodh had supplied. All of them looking quite exhausted.

  Gerrit’s solid frame blocked her way to the stairs.

  “Move aside,” she said in a loud voice. When he reached to grab at her arm, she jerked it away. “Nae! Ye’ll not touch me again! Ever!”

  “Oh, a fire in ye now! Now that ye got the handsome MacNaughton warrior on yer side.”

  He could not learn how wrong he was. She moved her face in closer, the anger rippling through her, tightening every muscle on her face. “Ye have the right of it. Now step aside!”

  Gerrit’s bright blue eyes flashed, a look of admiration. He quirked a brow and stepped aside. Tisa nearly ran up the stairs, throwing the door shut and barring it tight. Darragh would not be back anon unless they were interrupted. He’d been too long unsatisfied to not want to go at it all night long.

  She ripped off her gown and threw herself on the pallet, covering herself with the thick, coarse blanket. It scratched at her skin and the discomfort somehow felt right. Somehow she deserved it. She drifted off the sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ~

  DARRAGH REMAINED BY THE captain’s side for the rest of their journey home. He spoke to Tisa only when his father was present or if he noticed Tadhg nearby. In all other ways, it was as if she did not exist. When they arrived home, Darragh helped her down and again left her to fend for herself.

  Caireann approached as soon as he was gone.

  “I’ve missed ye.” She held Tisa close.

  “Is aught a
miss? Has something happened?”

  The redhead’s eyes were filled with tears. “Nae. All is well. I have just missed ye so.”

  Tisa headed toward her home, her small sack of belongings in her arms. “Has Malcolm been seeing to ye?”

  “Aye.” Caireann blushed. “He sees to my every need.”

  Tisa pushed open her door, the smell of home greeting her. “Of course he does. He cares for ye.”

  “He loves me so. Sometimes I dunna ken what I did to deserve such happiness.”

  Tisa dropped her sack onto the chest in the alcove. “Do ye ken when ye’ll make yer pledge to the man?”

  “We would like to do it whenever ye think ‘twill be best.”

  She stopped to face her friend, her hands at her hips. “The morrow? ‘Twill surely be a fine day for it.”

  Caireann’s mouth dropped open. “So soon?”

  “Why not? Ye should be together.”

  “Malcolm has said as much but I dunna wish to leave ye.”

  “Ye’re not leaving me, lass. Ye’ll be here to help me as I need ye. Dunna fash yerself. The joining will be on the morrow. Go to see the man. Off with ye now!”

  Tisa shooed her out the door. Waiting to wed was begging for trouble if Caireann was, indeed, pregnant from the rape. Who would do such a thing? Even that bastard Gerrit showed himself unwilling for such an atrocious act.

  Aodh always had women around for the men although Tisa kept her distance from all that. After what Darragh had told her about him sharing the best wenches, she did not care to witness what type of women did not mind being passed around. Or mayhap they were not willing. That could easily be her. A chill of fear passed over her. She had avoided it thus far. She needed to continue to do so.

  Tisa yanked back the coverings from the little bed but they needed cleaning. She ripped them off and headed toward the door. Darragh burst in, laughing, and nearly collided with her. His head turned away, his attention on whoever was behind him. The captain followed.

  “Oh, Tisa! I expected ye to be at the longhouse.”

  Tisa did not smile. “I dunna choose to be at the longhouse. I choose to be at my own home.”

  “My home.”