by Ashley York
“Aye.”
Her dreams were real. Her husband. Her Tadhg had come to make her his. He held her against him, stretched out, and she was beneath him. His lips on her neck, she couldn’t sit still. The fire burned hot within her. When his hand slipped between her legs, he moaned again then stilled. His breathing labored. She waited. Worrying her lip, she was overwhelmed by how much she wanted him. Needed him.
Ever so gently, he worked his fingers over her slick passage. Slipping a finger inside, his breath hitched.
Her loins were on fire, needing him, needing this.
“My body longs to be yers,” she whispered.
The trews were being shoved away. His mouth on her breast and his finger moving in and out of her wetness. She cantered her hips up against his hand. And he filled her even more. Pleasure washed over her like a storm’s tide, pushing aside any other thoughts.
She dared not open her eyes even when the cold moved over her skin but then he was back, his solid chest covering her. Naked now, she spread her legs for him. He fit perfectly. Supporting himself, he touched her wetness with the tip of his tarse before sliding its length along her folds, heightening her desire for the feel of him inside.
He moaned. “I am aching with love for ye.”
“Come into me.”
With one firm thrust, he filled her. She gasped at the sensation. He stilled. His broad back tight under her hand. He nuzzled his face into her hair, dropping kisses along her shoulder. One long sweep of his tongue along her neck. She sighed and he relaxed again, shifting his hips to move ever so slightly within her as his tongue continued its delicious assault.
Entering her more fully, there was no more pain. His warm lips brushing over hers, he took her mouth in an exquisitely gentle kiss. She nearly cried out when he withdrew but then he was pressing into her again. And then again. Stretching her. Little by little. He flamed her burgeoning need with slow, deliberate movements. Each time pressing further into her until he was fully sheathed.
“Look my way, my love.”
She opened her eyes. It was like her dream but so much more. Him inside of her. The look of love on his face. His endearing smile of unsurpassable pleasure.
He thrust into her. His tempo slow at first, began to increase. Controlled. She slid her hands down his back, savoring the feel of him, his firm buttocks. The tension in his body seemed unbearable. Her eyes closed, she savored the intensity. Building with her heightened awareness of him. His heavy breathing. His strong hands on her, gripping her, grasping her bottom as if he would die if he couldn’t have her like this. He gave in to his own need for her, plunging harder and deeper, touching her womb and his heart pounding against hers.
Overwhelming sensations forced a groan of longing that wasn’t even recognizable as hers.
An answer. A low sound rumbled through his chest, vibrating into her, and she was over the edge, the waves spreading out from her core, cascading throughout her body.
She cried out his name and it echoed back. A slow, hard thrust. And again. And he stilled within her, spilling his seed. She squeezed him tight inside her. She would never be satisfied again.
He covered her face with gentle kisses, trailing along her cheek. His unsteady breath in her he ear, he whispered, “I love ye, Tisa.” Taking her face in his hands, he gazed into her eyes. “I canna be without ye anymore.”
Tisa shook her head. She did not want to think. Not now. Not when she could still feel him inside of her. Not when total contentment filled her. Not when she was enveloped in such a great peace, a knowledge of being right where she belonged.
“My love,” he said.
Lowering his lips, he kissed her with great care as if showing his love to her. His need for her. Showing he could never have a life without her. The tears slipped down into her hair.
He pulled the long brat over them. She snuggled tight against his solid length, still overwhelmed by sensations. Her body satiated, she drifted off. Contented. Fulfilled.
Sometime later the cold awakened them. With no light, Tisa couldn’t guess what time it was. She tipped her head up to watch Tadhg as he slept, startled when she found him watching her.
“Ye look like an angel when ye sleep.”
She scoffed. “And how do ye ken what angels look like when they sleep?”
“I have one in my arms.” He kissed her lightly.
When she would have wiggled up closer to kiss him again, he stayed her with his hand. “What are we to do now, Tisa?”
“Nae, Tadhg. I canna speak of this now. Make love to me again.”
He sat up beside her, his eyes all but caressing her skin where he searched every bit of her as if he couldn’t get his fill of her. “God kens how much I wanted ye for my wife. Things can never be right for me without ye.”
His pained tone cut through her like a knife. She had no words of comfort.
“Do ye believe we have sinned here?” she asked.
Tadhg’s expression changed into one of confidence. “There is no sin when a husband takes his wife.”
“But I have another who calls himself my husband.”
“He is not yer husband in truth. He married ye not to take ye as his wife but as ordered and with no thought of ever fulfilling his duty.”
“There was no pledge made between us. No blessing.”
“Darragh does not seem to care about such things,” Tadhg said.
“He believed there was no need, no doubt, since he would not be consummating our union.”
“Now ye are bedded.” Tadhg stood. “And I will see to ye in all things.”
Tisa glanced down to the blood smeared between her legs and on his brat beneath her. He gently cleaned her with water from the spring, his tenderness bringing tears to her eyes.
“Ye have me as yer wife, Tadhg. Ye are my husband in truth. I will never go willingly to another.”
Standing, he rubbed his head in frustration until he happened against the sore spot and winced. Even with such a grimace, her Tadhg was a handsome man. She allowed herself to look over his nakedness. His broad shoulders and bared torso, lightly covered with dark hair, down to his well-honed legs. She paused at his tarse, surprised when it changed under her perusal, growing in length and thickness. Tisa looked up at Tadhg in astonishment.
He snorted, a lopsided grin on his lips. “Ye canna look on me like that and expect no reaction from me. I burn for ye even now.”
She opened her arms to him. “Then dunna wait. Take me again, husband.”
He dropped beside her and again made love to her. And she again cried in his arms, wishing things could be different. She rested her head on his shoulder, his arm holding her there, tight against him. It was a long while before either of them spoke.
“Tadhg?”
“Aye?”
She dreaded bringing up the unpleasant subject but she needed to know. “Please tell me about your mother. Did she lay with my father?”
“I should not have shared that with ye.”
She leaned up on her elbow to look into his face. “How do ye ken? Mayhap ye’re wrong.”
He shook his head. “I am not wrong. ‘Twas in her own hand. My mother named yer father as Brighit’s father.”
“How can that be?”
He shrugged. “My mother was deceitful.”
“And she is not here to defend herself.”
Tadhg pierced her with his look. “There is no defense.”
Tisa shivered, his harsh tone washing over her. His anger so very deep.
“We canna ken what happened. We need to let it go.”
He looked toward the wall, a hard expression. “I am having a hard time with that. Especially since it made me lose ye.”
If that was the reason Padraig broke off their betrothal, then his mother’s betrayal did cost them their chance for happiness. There was nothing Tisa could say to him.
“Methinks we need to get ye back,” Tadhg said.
Tisa sat up, tucking her knees up under her chi
n. “I dunna want to return. I want to remain with ye.”
Wrapping his arms around her, she welcomed his strength, him holding her close. “I want to make ye mine.”
“I am yers.”
With a gentle hand, he lifted her chin and placed a kiss on her lips. “I take ye as my wife, to love ye, to protect ye.”
A small breath lay trapped in her chest as she responded. “I take ye as my husband, to respect ye, to honor ye.”
“I’ll take no other unto myself.”
“I will take no other unto myself. I will cleave unto ye and accept yer protection.”
“And I will love ye all the days of my life, holding ye deep in my heart, cherishing ye as my most my precious gift, more precious than my own life.” He pushed the hair from her face. “But how can I protect ye when another calls ye wife?”
“I am not his wife.”
“Ye are not. Ye belong to me.” Tadhg scanned the area. “Can I stay with ye here? Have a life with ye here, hidden away?” He picked up the small rag doll that lay with the rest of their clothing. “Is this yers?”
Tadhg settled down beside Tisa and she took the doll.
“There were people here. People Aodh would not allow to live amongst us. He claims they will weaken the group. Some are sick. Some are mangled. His own granddaughter lives as an outcast. Aednat.”
“Does Aednat have a malady?”
“Her foot is not right so she limps but she is a charming lass. I brought that for her.” She looked around the area. “I dunna ken where they’ve gone now. Malcolm will ken. Until his return, I will pray they are still safe.”
“He has returned. I came upon him three nights ago when I was out looking for Ultan—ye.”
Tisa shook her head. “It could not have been him. They traveled south along the coast.”
“I spoke to him.”
“Was Caireann with him?”
“She was not. He had an older woman with him that I dinna ken. He kept her behind him as if to keep her from my view so I dinna press the matter.”
“How did she look?”
“She had long, dark hair with gray sprinkled throughout. A noble bearing.”
Tis gasped, covering her mouth. She shook her head before facing him. “Methinks ye saw him with Aoife, Darragh’s mother.”
“Darragh’s mother? Aodh’s wife?”
“His first wife. She is one of the outcasts. He set her aside when he married the chieftain’s daughter, Lilith. Aoife told me Aodh poisoned the old chieftain, Eirnin, when he refused to fight him for leadership.”
“Eirnin? I remember that man from my youth. He visited my father every summer. A proud man.”
“Eirnin refused to fight Aodh because his young son, Brian, was tanist. He had been named after the great Brian Boru and held great promise as a warrior and leader. Aodh poisoned Eirnin but no one could prove it. Darragh’s mother was the only one that knew the truth and she was put with the other outcasts. Brian was too young to take over as leader so the clan accepted Aodh once he proved his mettle. Aodh allows Brian to remain at a place of honor but not to fight beside him. He does not trust him.”
“If Brian kens that Aodh poisoned his father, no doubt Aodh fears Brian will do the same. Brian is brother-in-law to Aodh. He would not put his sister in jeopardy by challenging her husband. And who are Aednat’s parents?”
“Darragh’s brother.”
“I dunna ken any brother.”
“Aoife told me of him. Malachi. He and his wife died in some tragic accident she would not speak to me of, leaving Aednat. Aoife said the loss nearly broke Aodh. That was when they traveled north with Darragh.”
“Aodh is ruthless. I am afeared for ye if they notice ye’re missing. Mayhap we should prepare to return.”
Tisa did not protest and dressed herself. Tadhg did the same. When he picked up the well-worn shawl, shaking it before handing it to Tisa, she frowned and shook it out again.
“Sorry I am that ye dunna have something less worn than this. Ye deserve better, my fine lady.”
Tisa held the material in front of her, squinting. “‘Tis Caireann’s, not mine. She is very careful of her things.”
Tadhg leaned beside her. “What do ye see?”
“‘Tis strange.” She shook her head and grabbed a section of the material. “These holes dunna look as if from wear.”
“Nae. Mayhap it became stuck on something? Or something poked her?”
She ran her hand along the material, counting out three very prominent holes. When she grabbed at her shoulder, her eyes widened.
“What is wrong?”
“I had the same mark on my shoulder. ‘Tis from Gerrit’s brooch, the one that holds his brat. See the circular pattern? Very ornate with large stones that jabbed into me, breaking my skin.”
Tadhg’s face tightened. “Was that at the inn?”
“Nae. ‘Twas here. He came upon me in the woods.”
Her jaw tightened and it was difficult to swallow.
Tadhg took her hands in his warm ones. “What? What did he do?”
“He almost ran me down...he wanted to take me. He said he would do to me what Darragh could not.”
“He kens Darragh has no desire for women? Ah, because they had been lovers.”
She searched the material, barely able to voice the words. “And then that devil spawn went and raped Caireann.”
“Caireann was raped? Sweet Caireann?” Tadhg’s upset matched her own. “How did I not hear of it?’
Tisa’s heart thudded in her chest as if simply sitting there was unacceptable. She would confront Gerrit.
“These people are not like us. They take what they want. They share women who are unwilling. The men—”
“—are reprehensible! And I will be yer champion. Sean and I have spoken of this. Forgive me that I could not bear to think of ye with another and refused to listen to him afore now. What ye’ve had to endure? But no longer.”
She placed a small hand to his cheek, a sad expression. “That ye ken does not change anything.”
“It does! I canna allow it to continue. I will not allow ye to be treated so! These men act more like animals and if Gerrit raped Caireann, it will not go unpunished.”
“He prides himself on having willing lovers. Men and women. But Caireann had not been willing. He came up from behind.” She held up the material. “And took her, forcibly, tearing her with his brutality, ruining her.”
“Did Malcolm ken?”
“Malcolm had loved her from the very first. When we found her after the rape, he berated himself that he had not taken her to wife afore. He believed he would have been able to protect her. We had no thought of it being Gerrit.” She glanced again at the material. “This will be seen to but we need to return.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
~
Once inside the longhouse, Sean took but a moment to locate his target.
“Gerrit! Ye whoreson!” Sean strode toward the man who now stood beside the table where he’d been ensconced with men offering their congratulations for taking down the great MacNaughton warrior.
“Sore loser?” Gerrit rubbed at the stubble on his chin, inspecting Sean as he approached.
“Ye’re a cheat because ye haven’t the bollocks to fight the man fairly.”
Despite having given him a considerable amount of warning, Sean’s fist easily slammed into Gerrit’s jaw. The contact sent him back a good three feet before landing him on his arse.
Sean looked down into the very bewildered face of the leathered man.
“Have a fair fight with me now and we’ll see who is, indeed, the greater warrior - the MacNaughton - or the sodomite.”
A few of the men bent to help Gerrit to his feet but the rest dispersed, exceedingly careful to do nothing that could be misinterpreted as aggression. His jaw tight, Sean was barely able to contain his rage.
A safe distance from Sean, Gerrit brushed off his clothing with casual hands. “I’d say ye are, indeed
, no more than a sore loser. What proof do ye have that I cheated?”
“This!” A loud voice came from the doorway. As one, they all turned to see Darragh standing there. In one hand, Gerrit’s leather glove; in the other, a large rock, flat on one side.
“Yer weapon of choice? Fear not, Sean, yer friend will be avenged. I have yet to make my own impression on this man.”
Gerrit’s expression quickly shifted from one of guilt to one of seduction. His lips curling into a smile before he spoke. “Ah, my dear Darragh.”
“Dunna call me that ever again.” Darragh barked the words, his composure slipping a bit. Gerrit would have seen it as well. A trained warrior watched for any show of emotion and that man thrived on manipulation, exploitation, and bullying. Darragh standing up to this man was obviously personal which would give the advantage to Gerrit.
“He’s devil spawn for certain, Darragh. Are ye certain ye wish to lower yerself to deal with the likes of this man?” Sean paused long enough to offer a contemptuous scowl at Gerrit. “Ye’re the chieftain’s son, after all. And ye’ve proven yerself today in front of all of us. Ye’re a man to be reckoned with, Darragh, and make no doubt about that. Ye have earned the right to have another see to someone so far beneath ye. Ye only need say the word and I will gladly take this caitiff down.”
Darragh turned his hardened expression on Sean. His eyes rounding once he realized Sean was supporting him, he clipped a nod of acknowledgement. “My thanks, Sean. I will see to this one myself.”
Darragh stiffened his face, wiping away any sentimentality, and headed to the door. The men cheered as they filed out of the longhouse behind Darragh, followed by Gerrit, and back toward the well-worn fighting area. The sun was lower in the sky. The night promising to be a cool one.
Sean picked up the rock as he passed the table Darragh had dropped it on. One side was flat just like the dent in Tadhg’s head, his blood and hair still visible. Sean’s blood boiled and he marched toward the makeshift viewing box. He would be nearby and ready to assist if Gerrit was somehow able to get the upper hand on Darragh. It was no longer about being a fair fight, not when the man had violated all rules of fairness himself.
