Daughter of the king

by Ashley York

  Darragh’s chest swelled with his father’s words. Tadhg was not one to be overly complimentary. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember the last time his father ever patted him on the back for a job well done.

  “As am I.” Sean raised his head to impale Tadhg with his gaze.

  Tadhg stilled the patting. “Quite a menacing tone.”

  Tipping his head to the side and raising one heavy brow, Sean clearly indicated the tone had been intentional.

  Tadhg removed his hand. “Ye believe ye need to threaten me or my son for yer daughter to get the proper treatment?”

  Darragh couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d encouraged the shift of location for their wedding for this very reason. Sean’s insinuations that Darragh was lacking in some way did not sit well with him. It was unfounded.

  “’Tis understandable that ye’re overcome with emotion.”

  Sean glanced skyward, his lips tight, as if searching for control. “I am concerned. I am concerned that my lass be treated with the utmost care.”

  “She. Will. Be. And not because we’re afraid of any retribution from ye, but because we all treasure her. My son included.” Tadhg finished his drink and stood. “Besides, ye’re not that intimidating.”

  Sean barked a laugh at Tadhg as he walked away. Darragh was speechless, shocked that his father had stood up for him so adamantly. And yet there was no denying everything his father had said was true. He’d be a good husband and provider. Brighit was a handful but well worth the effort.

  “Did ye hear enough?” Tadhg passed Darragh without stopping.

  His face heated. “I hadn’t meant to—“

  “I can’t say why Sean’s behaving like an arse or why his wife is insisting on so much tradition, like the bedding ceremony.”

  Darragh had also heard Thomasina wanted the bedding witnessed. “It does not appear that the woman has any sensitivity to Brighit’s own wishes.”

  Tadhg stopped at that, turning to his son. “She has confided in ye?”

  “She does not need to confide in me. I know ‘tis not what she wants.”

  A flash of something in Tadhg’s expression surprised Darragh, but then his father smiled and slung an arm around his shoulder. “I am surprised when I see ye are indeed much like yer mother.”

  Now his confusion was complete. “How so?”

  They passed Niall, who was regaling the lads with more tales of his midnight raids back in Alba.

  “I am inclined to action, whereas yer mother is more thoughtful.”

  Darragh wasn’t certain how to take that last bit. When he noticed Brighit off to the side of the group, awkwardly hunkered down beside the garden as if she were weeding, he gave it no more thought. From her flushed face and the way her hand was barely moving over the tops of the plants, Darragh knew she was listening to Niall’s tales.

  Everyone enjoyed Niall’s stories, each more exciting—and exaggerated—than the last. The young warriors especially enjoyed the entertainment, always asking for more. And Niall enjoyed keeping their eyes, wide with awe and wonder, stuck on him. Surely there would be no harm in such worship of a man they barely saw. One who would be leaving soon. No harm at all.

  When they chased after us, their swords high in the air and ready to attack,” Niall said, “they lost us at the first bend in the road.”

  “But, Uncle, how were ye able to lose them so quick?”

  “Have ye not been listening, Lachlann? That was where the trail started. We had ducked onto it, disappearing before they made it past the first boulder that shielded us from them.”

  Lachlann slapped his leg and guffawed. His amazement at Uncle Niall’s stories was shared by all present, including Brighit. She’d stepped away from the others upon catching sight of her father and Tadhg, their heads tilted together in conversation. Tisa had sent her over to gather some dandelions from the garden, a task she’d neglected in favor of joining the group of lads listening to her uncle. Scooting down beside the garden, she picked the dandelions half-heartedly, her ears perked toward her uncle.

  Her skin tingled as Niall re-told the story of his near capture. Her breath caught as he spoke of his captors pressing a knife to his neck. She edged closer, abandoning the dandelions.

  Watching as Tadhg moved away, Niall leaned toward Brighit, his voice dropping. “Would ye like to have one last raid as a lad before ye wed, niece?” He winked at her. “I promise ye a night ye’ll not soon forget.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  He beamed. “Consider it done.”

  “What did ye have in mind?”

  “Ah, now ’tis a surprise but rest assured, the rest of the lads are up for it as well.”

  She could barely contain her excitement. The faces of those gathered around him held the same eagerness. The twinge of guilt at betraying Darragh’s trust was quickly set aside. This was different. This was an adventure with her uncle! Besides, Darragh need never know.

  Beaming, she said, “’Twould be the best of wedding gifts. Thank ye, Uncle Niall.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Darragh frowns on such things.” Her face heated at how whiny she sounded.

  He nodded, the corners of his eyes creasing with his smile. “I’m not convinced yer young lad lacks any desire for excitement.”

  “He’s far too responsible to do anything that his father would disapprove of.”

  Niall raised both brows. “Then certainly my bonny niece will have to change his ways and turn him toward a life less predictable and staid.”

  “I will do my best.” Brighit kissed her uncle’s cheek. “But I do thank ye for taking us out one last time. When shall we meet?”

  “Well, ye’ll be meeting me as soon as they’ve tucked ye off safely to bed.” Niall winked again before turning his gaze to the eager faces of the lads surrounding him. “Ye all can join me as soon as ye can sneak away unobserved. With all these clans gathered for the celebration, ye should not soon be missed.”

  “Unobserved?” Lachlann snorted. “What a way with words ye have.”

  Her brother Calum shook his head, giving his uncle a sideways glance. “And what a way with the ladies.”

  “Well, I can’t seem to fight them off…”

  Brighit didn’t miss the dark cloud that passed over her uncle’s handsome face. It was no secret that he’d been making his way through the willing lasses, entertaining a different one each night since his arrival. She feared it was more to avoid being alone than from any carnal need.

  Niall had just lost his wife to the fever. His arrival in Drogheda had come as a shock—he was still in mourning and hadn’t been expected. That first day, Brighit had been taken aback by how pale the normally boisterous man looked. Clearly distraught.

  “Are ye certain ye’re up for this, Uncle Niall?” Brighit wiped the concern from her face at Lachlann’s wide-eyed expression of warning. They’d been told by their mother to behave as if nothing was untoward and, above all else, not to mention Lily, his deceased wife.

  “What are ye on about?” Niall scoffed. “I’m seeing to my favorite niece’s last night of freedom. I do not take that lightly.”

  Freedom. An unexpected chill traipsed across her skin.

  “A great adventure!” Lachlann beamed. “And my gift to ye, sweet sister, is that I promise to not tell a soul.”

  “And mine,” Calum chimed in, his smile radiant.

  Brighit snorted. “Well, aren’t my dear brothers the generous ones.”

  Lachlann stood and stretched. “Ye’ll be thanking me for covering for ye come tomorrow if ye’re late for the blessing.”

  “Ye canna be late, lass.” Niall’s serious expression surprised her. “Yer mother will have my head if she learns what I’ve got planned. She’ll never forgive me.”

  Pressing her lips together to keep from smiling, Brighit said, “Ye need not worry about me. I’ll not be getting caught.”

  “Caught?” Darragh’s voice startled her, but her uncle quick
ly turned back toward the group as if they’d not just been talking. “Are ye getting into mischief again?”

  It was suddenly very hot. Brighit dropped again, collecting the dandelions from the ground. “No good wife gets into mischief.”

  She smiled at her choice of words.

  “So ye wish to not be a good wife?”

  Her gaze flew to Darragh to find him grinning at her. She sensed no anger, so he must not have heard any more than what he’d repeated.

  She stood.

  “Did ye not promise ye could make me a good wife?” he said, his tone teasing.

  “Did I say that? Hmm. I do not recall.”

  His hair hung loose, not pulled back as usual, and she had the sudden urge to push it away from his face. She shook herself. “Something about teaching me?”

  That look of desire was back, but he held her gaze, mimicking her words. “Something about it.” His quiet voice seemed like a caress. “Within hours ye’ll be mine.”

  “We’ll be wed.”

  He tipped his head. “Is there a distinction?”

  “I will not only be yers.” She paused. “Ye will be mine.”

  She sensed his intake of breath rather than heard it. Darragh took her hand, gently leading her away from the others before turning to her again.

  “And how d’ye treat what is yers?”

  Brighit hesitated, not sure what the right answer should be. “I will protect it. As ye would.”

  His expression relaxed into a broad smile. “And so much more.”

  “And so much more.” She mimicked him back. Although she had no idea what he referred to, she was certain she would find out soon enough. The excitement was back in her belly, more intense even than the thought of slipping away tonight for a late-night venture. That thought stirred the guilt she’d been trying to ignore.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Ye enjoy yer uncle’s tales more than the other lasses.”

  Her defenses went up and she straightened her back. “I am more capable than the other lasses.”

  “Ah, so ye have said.”

  “I could…I could easily be one of those riding along with him.” She watched him closely. “If I were a man.”

  “If ye were a man.”

  Darragh’s expression was intense, as if he were looking right into her soul.

  She swallowed against the uncomfortable feeling. “I need to get back to my duties.”

  Brighit flattened the few dandelions she’d collected into the basket hanging from her arm and headed off toward the cooking fire behind the longhouse.

  Without glancing back, she knew his gaze followed her. The way his face had lit up at her mention of duties had sent a shiver down her back. Her palms were damp when she finally handed the basket to his mother.

  “Thank ye, Brighit.” No doubt Tisa’s smile was intended to reassure. “Are ye excited for the morrow?”

  Tisa dropped the plants into a waiting bowl of water, swishing the dirt from the leaves.

  “Certainly.” The quick glance Tisa gave her had Brighit averting her gaze, the heat spreading up her neck to cover her face. “I may be a little…apprehensive.”

  “’Tis expected.” Tisa wiped her hands on a cloth, a very lady-like action, before directing Brighit away from the fire and the rest of the women. “Every bride feels this way.”

  “Even ye?” Brighit found it hard to believe this self-assured woman had ever felt nervous about anything.

  The older woman smiled. A gentle smile that matched the touch of her hand on Brighit’s cheek. “Sweetling, ye are no different than me in many ways.”

  Brighit forced herself to not roll her eyes at the absurd comment. “I know Darragh is a good man…”

  “But he is a man.” Tisa finished the sentence that Brighit had not dared complete. “And men have needs. D'ye fear the marriage bed? As I did?”

  Brighit shrugged, not feeling overly comfortable discussing intimate matters with her husband’s mother. Her future mother-in-law was so controlled and soft-spoken. Could she really have feared Tadhg? She glanced toward the benches where the older men had settled to drink and discuss area politics. Their stern voices carried, although the words were lost.

  Tadhg was forbidding, to be certain, and seemed relentless in his demands of those around him. Mayhap Tisa had feared him. Feared his assessment of her. Feared her own ability to fulfill her wifely duties. Feared, above all, that she would be found lacking. Those were fears Brighit could well understand, but there was an important difference—for Tisa, those fears had been unfounded.

  “Had ye not been married before Tadhg?”

  Tisa nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. “Married, aye, but I remained untouched. My husband preferred others to me.”

  Brighit gasped. How could any man find her less than perfect? And why had Tisa named her first son after such a man?

  Tisa must have sensed her thoughts; her eyes rounded with concern and she said, “Oh, no. Not other women. He preferred men.”

  That was not unheard of, but who would marry such a man to a young girl? If they had been expected to consummate their vows, Tisa would have experienced his rejection firsthand. Brighit’s heart filled with new compassion for this woman.

  “I am sorry for ye.”

  Tisa smiled. That quiet smile she usually saved for her husband when he was reproaching someone, and she was sitting demurely by his side as wife to the powerful ri túaithe. “Darragh did his best by me. I found no complaints after we came to an understanding. He offered me his protection. And his care. He was a kind man.”

  Brighit’s confusion must have been apparent because Tisa’s next words came out in a rush.

  “It was a bad time for my father and our clan. He’d had no choice—and no idea about Darragh’s preference. No one did, but many suspected.” Again that far-off look. “But I had always held a fondness for Tadhg.”

  And there it was. The difference between Tisa marrying Tadhg and Brighit marrying Darragh. Brighit felt no such attraction toward Darragh. Well, mayhap the Darragh who’d kissed her…he was different and could set her heart to fluttering, but she’d seen that Darragh rarely enough. She set the thought aside. “Then the marriage bed was not so dreaded after all?”

  “Mayhap not, but I can tell ye, my son will be considerate of ye.”

  “And ye’re his mother.” Brighit knew there was no sense in saying what they both knew. Tisa only saw the best in her son.

  “And a mother knows her son. He is a gentle soul.”

  Darragh had joined the group of men, standing beside his father, his arms crossed over his chest. He was not smiling, and from this distance, he did not look gentle. He looked like a man desperate for his father’s approval—and if that meant keeping his bride under his thumb, so be it.

  “Well, I am sure it will be fine.” Brighit stood as did Tisa. “I will survive as most wives do.”

  “I am sorry I didn’t alleviate yer fears.”

  “My life is about to change—most drastically. I will get through it. Produce the children that are expected of me. No doubt we will be the model of wedded bliss.”

  “I understand yer fear—”

  “How can ye?” Brighit regretted the words as soon as she let them loose, her impulsiveness getting the best of her. “Forgive me, please, but ye were in love with yer husband. I am not.”

  “Ye will learn to love him.”

  Not the staid, dominating warrior at his father’s side. Never him.

  Brighit ground her teeth together to stop the telling statement from coming out. The words lingered unspoken between them until Tisa finally nodded and walked away.

  No doubt a mother had a hard time seeing the faults of her own children. Wasn’t it the same for Brighit’s own parents? Well, mayhap her mother saw her true colors, but her father believed she had no faults. A twinge of guilt shifted in her gut. Niall had promised them a raid tonight. If she wished to honor her father, she would decline. She would stay behind
with the women, embroidering or gossiping or whatever women did.

  Safe.

  Out of harm’s way.

  Sitting quietly. Listening politely when the men later recounted their adventures. Pretending she didn’t wish she’d joined them.

  NO!

  Tightening her jaw and tipping her nose in the air, Brighit passed the men, who continued their discussion of clan warring and how best to settle disputes in the area. She smiled. A tight smile. A smile that she hoped conveyed her acquiescence to all that the men did, as if she had a choice.

  Brighit may have no say in the clan’s business, but tonight she would get her last taste of freedom, brandishing her sword and riding like the wind through the dark of night. She would have her last bit of excitement as a man and then? Then she would set aside her trews and tunic, exchanging them for the acceptable garb of a married woman who waited patiently at home for her husband to return to her. She would think no more of raids or adventures. She would accept her bondage to a man who was like every other man—bent on breaking her will to his own. But not tonight.

  Tonight? They would not touch her free spirit.

  Chapter 5

  Niall led the way through the forest, intent on his destination, although he hadn’t shared it with the others. Brighit recognized the place as soon as they entered the boulder-strewn path. This was the very same land she’d crossed with Darragh, Tisa and Tadhg. They had been heavily guarded with no explanation for it. So the MacCochlain would feel the sting of their raiding this night. Her excitement increased three-fold.

  When the guards accompanying them had quickly turned their group away from this very path, Brighit’s interest had been piqued. The serious expressions on Tadhg and Darragh’s faces had left her feeling, yet again, that a woman’s life was the antithesis of exciting.

  For the smallest instant, she wondered if she should tell her uncle that their group had avoided riding through this area. But, she had no definite information. They’d kept her shielded from any such knowledge. Men were always too protective of women, but her uncle was an exception. Even so…