Daughter of the king

by Ashley York

  She moaned now, her hands on his head as he feasted on her. Thinking nothing of his own need, he responded to every moan, learning the places that pleased her most by the clenching of her thighs or the tightening of her hands in his hair. And the lovely sound of the groans from deep inside her throat. He pleasured her until she quaked against the fingers he thrust into her, receiving her release.

  “Nothing but pleasing ye, sweet wife. That is what I would give to ye.”

  A guttural sound of agreement and she pulled his face up to hers, kissing him with her own sweetness still on his lips. His tongue continued its assault, their lips locked for a tighter exploration. He settled atop her, and she immediately stiffened beneath him. The suddenness of the change surprised him, but when her hands ceased their caressing and the cadence of her breathing shifted, he knew to stop.

  Her noises of pleasure were sounding different. She was suddenly afraid of him, though he didn’t understand why. Before he could fully pull away, she shoved against his chest with the flat of her hand.

  “What is amiss?” His brain was foggy, but he knew her fear. He tried to move to alleviate her panic.

  “No!”

  Darragh yanked himself to stand before her. “Tell me, Brighit. What is it ye fear?”

  Brighit wagged her head from side to side, covering her face.

  “How have I hurt ye?” He was torn between compassion for her fear and irritation that she still wouldn’t tell him what caused it. “How am I to avoid what I do not know I have done?”

  “’Tis not ye.” Her words came out between her sobs.

  “I am the only one with ye.” His mind worked frantically, grabbing at every passing thought to reach her. “Ye were untouched, Brighit. How is it that ye are so fearful, ye must push me away?” Beside himself, he squeezed his scalp with his fingertips. “I have pleasured ye in every way I know how. If ye find me lacking still, I can offer ye nothing more.”

  Darragh stalked off, away from the small encampment, certain he’d spoken so loudly in his frustration that each of his men knew the breadth of their estrangement.

  His hopes dashed, he pledged to stop seeking her out. This was indeed a miserable existence for the both of them.

  Chapter 15

  The heavens unleashed rain in the middle of the night. Their travels were slowed by the heavy, unrelenting downpour, which washed out the trails the carriage needed to travel. The mood of the group quickly plummeted. Heavy clouds pressed against them and blocked out the sun, and nights were spent huddled under leather braits that didn’t provide much warmth and never allowed their clothing to dry completely.

  “A roundhouse ahead.” Terrence came back into the group of riders that halted and encircled him. He’d been sent up ahead in the hopes of finding some place dry they could rest. “’Tis a small house but no doubt hospitable.”

  The men’s eyes lit up, their expressions relaxing for the first time in days. Darragh looked forward to the respite as well. He’d been avoiding Brighit again, but they needed to come to an understanding. They were bound together and could not continue this way forever.

  “Will ye go ahead and see if they’ll open their doors to us?” one of the men asked, speaking loud enough to be heard over the rain pouring down around them as they stood huddled under a tree.

  “I will go ahead with my bride.” Darragh glanced toward the carriage that had stopped half a wheel deep in the mud. “But ’twould probably be easier to travel by horse.”

  “A cumbersome vehicle to be certain, but no doubt it gives her some comfort,” Terrence said.

  Darragh bristled at the protective way he spoke of her, as if he were the husband, but he also knew she showed him no preference despite the way he spoke of her.

  Terrence nodded. “And if they’ve no room for the likes of us to stay, they will certainly make room for ye and Brighit. Rest assured a warm meal would be welcome enough to us.” The others added their agreement.

  Darragh appreciated the suggestion that he and his wife could use some distance from the others, but Terrence’s attitude toward Brighit still baffled him. There seemed to be nothing untoward between them, and yet…

  Did his friend believe Brighit needed an ally? Against him?

  “I will see to it.” Darragh opened the carriage door to find Brighit leaned against the far side, a heavy wool wrapped tightly around her. “Did ye hear the news?”

  Brighit’s eyes seemed unusually bright, and her teeth were chattering as well. Immediately concerned, he pushed his way inside to kneel before her, warily raising a palm to her forehead. “Ye’re burning up with fever.”

  He was struck by the fact that she was sick and hadn’t felt it necessary to tell him. How little did she think of him? He’d been more than attentive and still she held herself at a distance. Even now, she shook her head to deny the truth while her eyes drooped closed again.

  “Ye most certainly are.” Over his shoulder, Darragh shouted the men into action. “Water! Start a fire as best ye can and see to some warm broth.”

  Terrence moved in close to look at the two of them within the wood-sided conveyance. “What is amiss?”

  “She has a fever.”

  “Some of the men were not well this morning. Was it something they ate that’s sickened them?”

  “I’m not sick.” The weakness of her protest belied her statement.

  “If not, then why are ye soaked through in your own sweat?” He pulled off the blanket and then immediately opened her cloak, blocking the other man’s view of the curves nicely displayed through the dampened material. “Terrence, can ye fetch a cloth for cooling her? And ask the men to set up a shelter for her. She’ll not be able to travel to the roundhouse like this.”

  “Cool? When she’s taken a fever?”

  Darragh realized that wasn’t the normal procedure, but it was the only thing that made any sense to him. Why keep her bundled when she was so hot her skin was reddened? “Please do as I ask.”

  A short time later, an older man came to the door with a mug of a hot brew. “A few herbs to cool her fever.” Duncan was the oldest warrior among them and, as such, much respected.

  “My thanks.” Darragh held the clay vessel to her lips. She had trouble swallowing so he adjusted it until it was easier for her. “Healing herbs?”

  “’Tis what my own mother would give her. The others that were sick are fine now.” Duncan remained in the entrance, his large gray mustache drooping over his turned down lips, watching them.

  Darragh felt the tension working into his shoulders. “Is there something ye wish to say?”

  “I wonder how long she’s been with fever.” The simple question was full of accusations. Darragh may be in command, but without question, it was Duncan whose advice he sought out most often.

  Darragh brushed the dampened hair from her face and pulled at the ties to slip the mantle from her shoulders. “As do I.”

  “A new husband should know these things.”

  Darragh held his retort, the man was right and he had little defense. “She seeks neither my company nor my bed.”

  “Nor d’ye seek hers.”

  The man had an answer for everything. Darragh’s ire rose, but wisdom oft came with age. If Duncan had something to say, he’d be a fool not to listen. “I’d hoped to give her some peace.”

  “Peace?” The older man spat the word out like a fish bone. “She needs coddling, not isolation.”

  “I do not need protection.” Brighit mumbled even as her head lolled back, coming to a rest on Darragh’s shoulder.

  Duncan and Darragh exchanged glances. “I know ye have yer work cut out for ye but seeing to the men to avoid seeing to yer own bride on yer honeyed moon is not the way to go about being a happily married man.”

  Darragh wanted to ask how a man never married would know such things but knew better.

  “Ye’ve left her to herself almost every night.” And the man was relentless.

  “She prefers it that w
ay.”

  Duncan’s thick brow lowered. “And how d’ye know that is so?”

  Done with the niceties, Darragh turned to face the man, though he was careful not to jostle Brighit awake. “Because when I did my husbandly duties, she felt it necessary to knee me in the groin for my effort. Message received, thank ye.”

  Duncan’s dark brown eyes widened, and then he nearly fell to the ground laughing.

  Darragh only scowled. “Ye can stop acting like an arse.”

  Duncan appeared unable to stop, laughing so hard he was grabbing his sides and bending over. Terrence appeared with the cloth and cool water.

  “What are ye about?” he asked of Duncan, but his eyes remained on Darragh as he lightly rubbed the cloth over Brighit’s face.

  “She kneed our young man.” Duncan spat out between bouts of laughter. “Right in the balls!”

  Darragh rolled his eyes. It had been a poor lapse in judgment to tell this man what had happened. He’d hoped for some bit of advice, understanding in the very least.

  Terrence’s frown darkened. “Why would she do that? What did ye do to her?”

  Duncan shrugged, getting himself under control, but Darragh was surprised by the question. There it was again—Terrence’s strange protectiveness toward his wife, which neither of them would explain.

  “I did nothing a husband is not expected to do.” Darragh’s explanation left little room for comment. He ignored them both, turning his attention instead to Bright, who appeared to be rousing.

  “I’m sorry. I am very hot. I didn’t mean to bother ye,” she said.

  “What ye are is sick. This damn rain is making us all sick.”

  “’Tis nothing. I’ll be fine.”

  Her head rolled to the side and all three men jumped forward to catch her before she fell.

  “We’d best get her some place dry,” Terrence said, and Darragh bit back a retort.

  Clasping her small body in his arms, Darragh did his best to protect her from the unrelenting rain as he followed the other men, who had finished setting up a small lean-to for her. The fire within cast a gentle glow and the men had made a heap of whatever dry material they could find and covered it with a heavy fur for a makeshift pallet.

  Darragh removed her soaked mantle before gently laying her down. Duncan retreated with the others while Terrence handed him a freshly cooled cloth.

  “She’s pale, Darragh.” He spoke loudly to be heard above the rain.

  “I can see that.” Darragh struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice. Her dark eyelashes against her cheeks made her look even more vulnerable. He felt his own failure miserably. It was his job to look out for her.

  “Terrence? Check the accommodations at the roundhouse. I need to get her some place dry come morning.”

  His friend left without a question, closing the flap to their makeshift alcove, leaving them alone together. Brighit’s clothing was damp and he worked at the ties, loosening her outer gown until he could work it off her. She lay there in her chemise, vulnerable and pale.

  Supporting her head, Darragh held the cup to her mouth until she had finished the warm drink. When he dipped the cloth into the water and rubbed it along her neck and chest, Brighit still didn’t stir.

  He refreshed the cloth, “Ye have my sympathy.”

  “No. No sympathy.”

  Darragh snorted, working the cloth beneath the neckline to cool her breast. “I did not say ye deserved my sympathy, only that ye have it.”

  “I do not want it.”

  His hand stopped midway to the bowl of water. Her words cut him to the quick, but it struck him with sudden clarity why she didn’t want him caring for her. Even in her weakened state, she would behave as if she disliked him? How she’d hate him caring for her. With sudden clarity he realized it was a lie. She needed him, but she didn’t want to need him. It was her damn pride.

  He thought back over these past two years, how easy it had always been to bait her. How her eyes would flash with resentment when he selected the best meat for her, offering it to her on his own dagger. How very irritating she was to him…and how much he wanted her.

  Alone in their cocoon, the driving rain overpowering all other sounds, Darragh stopped listening for Terrence’s return and adjusted himself so that he held her securely in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, before drifting off himself. His dreams were of their first time. The sound of her sighs. Her fingertips pressing into his back, urging him on in her passion. The overwhelming sense that he was where he belonged.

  He awoke with a start, his breathing labored. The sun had gone down and the fire was nearly out, leaving even their small space chilled. Brighit rested peacefully beside him, her skin now cool to his touch. Whatever had made the others ill had left her as well.

  As quietly as he could, he eased himself away from her to feed the small fire and then doffed his brait to use as a blanket to cover them. She appeared very peaceful. And desirable.

  “Brighit?”

  “Hmm?”

  Her eyes still closed, he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips pressed against his with a surprising urgency.

  “Are ye awake?” he whispered the words against her parted lips, but she moved closer, deepening the kiss when he would have withdrawn.

  “How are ye feeling?”

  Her responding moan cut right to his own desire. She reached an arm around his shoulders, holding him closer. “Ah, much better now.”

  He didn’t dare move, but she found his hand and placed it against her breast before she started kissing him again. Her breath quickened and Darragh had to resist the overpowering yearning to explore her body more fully, to satisfy the fire she was igniting in him.

  “Yer fever may be gone, but ye should probably rest,” he forced himself to say.

  When he withdrew from her, she yanked him back. “Do not leave me. I am cold alone.”

  She held his upper body tight and nuzzled against his ear, sending a rush of blood to his cock. Her nipples teased him, pressing into him through the thin material of her chemise.

  When he started to pull away, she whimpered in protest.

  “Ye need to rest.”

  She shook her head. “I need ye.”

  The words hung between them. She was acknowledging she needed him—he could not deny her.

  Dragging an open palm along her lush curves, he cupped her firm bottom to shift her closer. The passion rushing through him required release, and he kissed her with abandon. His hands slipped beneath her chemise to cup her bare bottom.

  “Ye’ve a fine arse.”

  In response, she leaned up and over him, giving him better access to her curves.

  Darragh groaned, her weight heavy on him and her thigh rubbing his manhood. This could definitely be his undoing.

  “I’m not…I don’t know…” Why was he still fighting something he wanted more than his next breath? He groaned right before he pulled her the rest of the way on top of him. Her light weight was a blessing against his heated stiffness.

  “I would like to take ye again.”

  “Aye.” Her eyes were open now, a smile on her face as she looked down on him. She stretched to kiss him again, grinding her hips into him at the same time.

  Her answer surprised him, but his hand was already slipping betwixt her thighs and he was beyond talking. The dampness brought another groan and he tucked his head into the curve of her neck. That alluring curve he’d been in too much of a hurry to truly appreciate their first time. Was that the problem? Had he moved too quickly? He slipped his finger along her moist folds as he nipped at the sensitive flesh beneath her ear. No, she had been just this ready. He had not taken her unprepared.

  Brighit’s strangled groan, barely heard above the winds overhead in the trees, urged him on, but then her hands were pushing against him, trying to break his hold.

  “Someone’s coming,” she whispered.

  As if waking from a deep sleep, Darragh struggled to get his bearing
s and make sense of the sounds around him. The rustling of disturbed leaves.

  “Darragh?” Terrence’s quiet call cut through his lust. Darragh cursed, hitting his head in his haste to move away from his wife, and cover her with his mantle.

  “Will they accommodate us?” He was happy his voice didn’t betray his frustration, but he rolled his eyes at Brighit. She giggled, pulling her chemise down and over her hips before scooting deeper beneath the covering.

  Terrence’s face appeared in the doorway. “How is she?”

  Brighit’s eyes widened more. “Better. I am…better.”

  “Well?” Darragh sounded about as irritated as he felt.

  His friend hesitated only a moment. “They are expecting ye. They’ve pulled the carriage from the mud and laid down some branches to ease it over the worst of the trail.”

  “Good. We will be out anon.”

  Terrence flashed a smile and was gone.

  Darragh roughed up his hair. “Not the best timing, that one.”

  “Wait.” She pulled on his arm when he would have left her. “Thank ye for caring for me.”

  He nodded and helped her pull on her nearly dry gown. When he cradled her in his arms to carry her out, he was humbled by the rightness of her being in his arms. A sense of pride filled him—his wife had a fierce passion, and now that they were getting beyond whatever issues had stood between them, he felt certain their relationship would only grow stronger.

  Darragh carried her to the carriage and settled her inside. “I’d prefer to ride with ye, but ye’ll stay drier in here.”

  “My thanks.”

  He gave a dubious look to the men around him, and said, “Are ye certain the carriage will get there?”

  After the way things were moving along in the lean to, Darragh was in no hurry to be separated from her. Especially not if they were doomed to get stuck in the mud.