Daughter of the king

by Ashley York

  “Ye think I need help subduing my own wife?” He allowed his gaze to wander the length of her, a self-assured smile turning up his lips. “I think not.”

  “Subduing? And won’t that be the way of it?” She snorted. “Forcing me to obey yer every command.”

  Her words shouldn’t surprise him since she showed the same willfulness with her family. And just like with his own clan’s teachings, she’d probably been told the only reason a man took a wife was to have his needs seen to: food, children, intimacy.

  “Ye’ll be an obedient wife.” His tone was even, his words untroubled.

  “I’ll fight ye at every turn.” Her voice cracked with indignation, her body rigid before him.

  Her determination set something off inside of him. “Ye’ll lose.”

  Her eyes widened, and she nearly succeeded in leaping from his horse, but he was able to halt her movements.

  “Settle yerself.” He kept a tight hold round her while her legs flailed, until she stopped struggling against him. “Does yer father know of these midnight jaunts?”

  Turning to give him that tolerant expression he knew so well, she said, “Of course he does. I always have his blessing.”

  And she lied. Brighit enjoyed treating him as if he lacked any intelligence, as if she thought him incapable of understanding anything beyond battle tactics. Mayhap not even that.

  Her condescension had sparked his temper at first, but only until he noticed how irritated she became when he didn’t attempt to defend himself. When he answered in a calm tone, his demeanor remaining relaxed, she would scowl. And when he didn’t answer at all, she appeared about ready to scream.

  In truth, why should he defend himself with any of them? The bards and fili sang of his abilities as a warrior even now, not to mention his schooling in numbers and letters. He served as warrior, clerk, and brithem to his ambitious father. If not for his sire’s expectations for him, Darragh would have been happy leading a quiet life, raising a family with a woman who loved and wanted him. But he had no intention of dishonoring his parents by breaking the betrothal, no matter how she behaved.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Sneaking behind his back after he’s given ye more freedom than any other lass is not the best way to repay his generosity.”

  Her eyes widened. “And ye know nothing about it.”

  Darragh gave a shrug.

  Her expression relaxed into clear gloating.

  A sudden desire to keep her engaged pushed him to say more. “Explain it. Explain to me why ye’re off with the lads getting into mischief instead of safe in yer bed with the other maidens?”

  “The other maidens.” She scoffed. “’Tis no concern of yers.”

  “Ah, but it would give me great pleasure to know of ye.” He smiled at his own choice of words. “And soon I will be yer husband.”

  In the flick of an eye, she was nose to nose with him, her chin jutting out. “Not. Of. My. Choosing.”

  Facing front again, Brighit was stiff before him. Was there someone else she preferred to marry? She’d shown no partiality to anyone else that he’d witnessed. He’d watch more closely now. Not that it mattered overmuch. They were already as good as wed.

  “Our betrothal is not up for debate.”

  She remained unyielding.

  “Mayhap ’twould be best for ye to remain with my clan.”

  She glared at him.

  “Getting to know the clan that will soon be yers will no doubt ease any concerns ye may have about our joining.”

  “I’m not afraid of ye.”

  “Brave words from a lass untried.”

  Even in a loveless marriage, attraction went a long way to smooth the rough edges, and he definitely liked that flush of passion he saw in her when she verbally sparred with him. Passion was passion as far as he was concerned. Anger. Lust. Her willfulness, however, could put them both in a bad situation.

  “We’ll see.” The declaration, delivered with her nose in the air, did not sit well with him.

  “Take heed, Brighit. Yer father’s disapproval over yer behavior will not compare to my wrath if I find ye have dallied with another.”

  Her wide eyes quickly narrowed. “And until we are wed, ye will understand if I give yer concerns the attention they deserve. None.”

  That last word, spoken with such finality, felt like a call to arms. The excitement coursing through him was undeniable. So be it.

  “Well then, ye will understand if our wedding night is not everything a young lass might hope for.”

  Her mocking smile said it all, and he was surprised to find she could indeed still anger him. Darragh squeezed the beast into a gallop so fast, Brighit had to grab him to keep from falling off since he resisted the urge to give assistance.

  The battle lines drawn, he settled himself with a deep breath. No, being married to Brighit would never be dull. And he looked forward to it with relish.

  Chapter 1

  One year later

  * * *

  Betrothed since birth.

  That pronouncement had hung over Brighit for eighteen long years, and now that her wedding was on the horizon, the days she had left to see to her own pleasure were quickly coming to an end. She needed to take every opportunity she could to indulge herself. Heaven knew, there’d be none of that with Darragh as her husband. He’d require her constant attention, no doubt.

  So Brighit decided to stay abed as long as she could…only to have her efforts thwarted by her mother. Thomasina, small though she was, managed to rip the covers from around her toasty warm body in one strong tug.

  “Out of the bed this instant, or I’ll be calling yer father.”

  Brighit sat up but refused to get off the pallet. “That’s yer threat?”

  Thomasina’s usually beautiful face squeezed into a scowl. “Do not tempt me, Brighit. Ye’ll not like the outcome.”

  Her mother was like a dog without teeth, but she was clearly piqued about something. Something to do about Clan MacNaughton, more likely than not. And it was Brighit’s fault that they were here. If she had married Darragh before now instead of dragging out the betrothal in the hopes she could get out of it, her mother would have peace.

  “If I am out of the bed, will ye feel better?”

  Her mother’s stern expression was the only reason she relented, raising her hands in a show of submission.

  Brighit continued, “As ye say. I am a good daughter—”

  “I said no such thing.”

  “—and I would not want to add to yer burdens this day.”

  “Aren’t ye the thoughtful one?” Her tone indicated her disbelief.

  She did love her mother even when she was in a foul mood. Thomasina huffed, shook her head as she glanced heavenward, and left Brighit to her ablutions.

  Dipping a cloth in the cold water, Brighit scrubbed at her face and neck. Calling on her father to ensure she did as she was told? Given that her father was wrapped around her finger like a strand of thread, that was no threat at all. Her betrothed, however, was a different matter.

  Brighit yanked the well-worn gown over her thin shift and tucked her feet into her slippers, foregoing any stockings. No one would know.

  What did it matter that the great MacNaughton ri túath was here? He was only Tadhg and his wife was only Tisa. And their son, Darragh. He was a thorn in her side. Catering to him this day was something she’d rather not do and he did so love to provoke her by asking her to do things for him, things he should be able to do himself. And if she resisted his unreasonable request, both Tisa and her own mother would be giving her that expression of disappointment.

  It wasn’t until shortly after they broke their fast that Brighit had the opportunity to slip away. The day was perfect for a soak—the sky a clear blue without so much as one wispy cloud to mar its beauty. The lough was a wee bit cold, but Brighit minded not at all. The weightless floating was a welcome respite from her mother’s irritation. It was freeing to do as she pleased…except she found herself thinkin
g of Darragh.

  The distance between the two clans was great enough that she’d only seen him on occasion in her youth and he’d kept to his father’s side. She’d thought he was the most handsome lad she’d ever seen. When her mother told her that he would look out for her, Brighit had immediately thought of the boys who’d run away after pushing her in the mud. She had no older brothers to defend her and the idea that he could put them in their place for her? Well, that had made him even more appealing. His disinterest in Brighit had angered her. She’d wanted to get to know him. Not anymore. Now the distance suited her fine. The more distant he remained, the better she liked it.

  As Brighit grew older, she had learned being betrothed to someone from another clan meant she had no lad’s attention at home. No one would dare look at her, or even compliment her. Not as a lass. But when she donned her brother’s trews and tunic, they’d pat her on the back and treat her as one of their own. She’d prefer that behavior to the drooling she’d witnessed from those same lads—including her own brothers—over the dainty lasses with their pretty hair and flirty smiles. Dumbstruck more often than not. Much better to earn their respect and companionship.

  Many a time the lads would forget her presence and remark on the size of this lass’s bosom or the roundness of that one’s bottom. Tits and arses, they’d call them. She would try not to laugh at their embarrassed expressions when they’d turn and see her listening to every word.

  “Do not be looking at me,” she’d say. “I’ve no interest in their tits or their arses.”

  “And ye should not be talking so,” her brother Lachlann had said to her once. “’Tis not ladylike.”

  “And what do ye know about being ladylike?”

  “More than ye.” His face had turned nearly crimson enough to hide his freckles. “Ye should not even be here.”

  His censorship had seemed like a betrayal. They had always been so close, training side by side. Though younger, he was her eldest brother. Her closest friend. That had set her off something fierce.

  “Lachlann, ye have no right to be telling me what I should be saying or how I should be spending my time.”

  He’d leaned over her, intimidating her with his size. Up until his latest growth spurt, he’d only been a bit taller. His new height dwarfed her small stature. “And if that is so, how would ye feel about me telling Ma and Da where ye been sneaking off to?”

  Neither of her parents would be any happier about her escapades than Darragh had been, and well her brother knew it. Her father had been proud of her accomplishments, fighting and hunting right along with the other boys…right up until her menses had started while they were out hunting for the winter and far from home. Her da had been shocked speechless by the blood, but her cousin, Aednat, had been there as well. She was like a big sister, older and wiser, and she’d helped her.

  Truth to tell, Brighit had not been well pleased herself. Neither with the inconvenience of the whole experience, nor with the way she was now kept close to home and forbidden to go off with the boys. Sean had refused to listen to reason and his whole demeanor toward her had changed. He’d demanded she start wearing the longer, traditional léines and agreed with her mother’s assessment that it was time to put away childish things.

  That was when she started to sneak off.

  The lads she’d ridden with had been sworn to secrecy, and it had worked out fine. Darragh’s threat a year earlier had not failed to make its mark, giving her even more reasons to dislike the overbearing man. Her brother had toughened his stance since then. He’d insisted that he only wanted what was best for her—which now meant being safely tucked away with the other lasses. Lasses who had no use for her. Lasses who laughed at her lack of “ability.” Lasses who called her strange, stopping just short of saying she should have been born a boy.

  She couldn’t ride with the lads anymore and Darragh was surely to blame. He’d taken away her freedom. That’s what the lads had, what they took for granted. And the lasses? They had to stay behind with their sewing and their gossip and their viciousness. What a waste.

  The sound of men approaching jerked her back to reality. If she were caught here unguarded, it wouldn’t go well. Her father had warned her to take at least three men with her if she went through the woods and here she was with not a one. How many men would he have insisted she bring had he known she’d be floating naked in the lough?

  The dark green bushes to her left, intertwined with delicate honeysuckle, were thick with branches hanging close to the water, providing her with a chance to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, her gown was out in the open, but there was nothing she could do for it now.

  “And so ye have the right of it.”

  Darragh’s voice. Brighit gasped and ducked below the water, shoving off the bank toward the bushes.

  Chapter 2

  Did ye hear that?” Darragh’s eyes scanned the water of the lough, easily finding the ripples marring the lough’s flat surface. He lowered his voice and quirked a brow. “Someone’s gotten here afore us.”

  His companions grumbled behind him like they’d grumbled when he’d offered their help with the work Sean needed done. The promise of a refreshing dip had made the hard work of rebuilding one side of the ring fort go much easier. His own disappointment was as keen.

  “Mayhap they’ll not mind our joining them.” It was Terrence who spoke. He usually spoke without thinking and Darragh decided against pointing out the small size of the lough, the number in their group, and the fact that they were not well known here. Instead, he signaled them to wait and moved closer.

  Once alongside the water, Darragh noticed the gown and slippers laid out on the boulder. His heart skipped a beat. A lass. He dropped to a squat and turned to his men, pressing his finger to his lips and then pointing at the garments. They remained huddled close together, intent on him. When they caught his message, their eager nods encouraged him and they exchanged goofy smiles. Mayhap they would get a glimpse of a comely lass.

  The green color of the material seemed vaguely familiar, but it could not hold his attention. His eyes were on the lough. The brightness of the lass’s chemise would be unmistakable against the darkness of the lough floor if she glided past them.

  Darragh fingered the gown, a fine material and still warm from her body. He wetted his lips, exhaling a slow breath as anticipation coursed through his veins, but then he heard his father’s voice.

  This is childishness.

  Darragh should not wait here in hiding to watch her. He should lead his men away, set a good example, and above all not encourage foolish behavior.

  “Is it a lass?”

  Darragh turned a scowl on Terrence, signaled the other men to back up, and jerked his finger back to his lips. Their eager faces decided it. He needed to leave. His eyes found the gown again and his stomach sunk all the way to the soles of his feet. He knew where he’d seen it before. On his betrothed. It was Brighit’s.

  With narrowed eyes, he scanned the banks and the woods around them. She’d come with no protection at all to a place far enough from the village that no one would hear her if she screamed for help. She could easily be discovered by undesirables waiting to catch her unawares.

  His face heated.

  Undesirables worse than him and his friends?

  He stood to face Terrence. “Return to the village. I will be there anon.”

  They did not question his command, but Terrence’s skeptical glance warmed his cheeks even more. The man clearly thought the worst of his intentions. As soon as the others were gone, Darragh strode toward the bush, the gown clasped in his hand.

  When Brighit broke the surface, she dragged in air as quickly as her lungs were able. He tamped down a rush of concern for her. It was obvious she’d heard their approach and hidden from them. Her choice to do so under water deserved no sympathy.

  “What d’ye here, Brighit?” Darragh stood tall over her where she trembled in the water. “I do not see the men yer father insisted
ye take with ye. Just. This. Morning.” He turned about, even opening his arms, pretending to look for them. “Where have they gone off to? Surely they should be whipped for such disobedience.”

  Her wet shift and long brown hair were plastered against her skin. She looked so innocent and vulnerable. The thought of what could have happened to her cooled any sympathy for her condition. “Did ye leave with no one to protect ye? Ye are a foolish lass.”

  Her eyes flashed and before he could stop her, she was climbing out of the lough.

  “I do not need to be guarded! My father is overprotective.”

  He sucked in a breath, backing away as if he’d been struck. Her brazen move left him speechless and fighting, without success, to not take in every inch of her unabashedly displayed body. A fine body it was with long, shapely legs, and a narrow waist, no wider than the span of both of his hands.

  “Wh-what are ye about now?” he asked, irritated with himself for revealing his own uncertainty, but she showed no indication she’d noticed it.

  “I’m leaving. Isn’t that what ye’re suggesting? That I return to the village, where I will be well protected?”

  When she stilled, his eyes widened in an effort to remain on her face, the angry slash of her brows and her wide, demanding gaze, and not the erect nipples atop her glorious, full breasts or the dark patch betwixt her thighs.

  “Well?”

  Her tone was demanding, and he struggled to focus on what she had asked. When he finally did, he tightened his jaw and narrowed his gaze right back at her.

  “I’m not suggesting anything. Ye’ve no business being out here alone, Brighit, and well ye know it. ’Tis not the time to be sneaking off. There are dangerous men about that could easily take advantage of an unprotected lass.”

  Brighit shoved past him, ripping her gown from his loose grasp, leaving the scent of ever greens and honeysuckle in her wake.