Daughter of the king

by Ashley York

  “What is amiss?” she asked.

  “We are ready to depart as soon as ye have broken yer fast, my love.”

  She dropped her gaze, not wanting any questions about the fear he might see there. “I will do so quickly.”

  Darragh offered her his arm and accompanied her into the hall. Many of the Meachair clan were still partaking of the meal, but the warriors who’d come with them were missing.

  “Francis is excited to be a part of the group of nobles. As am I.” He beamed at her, selecting food from what had been set out on the side table. “The treaty put to writing the practices carried out for generations by many of us. My father’s clan. Yer father’s clan.” He poured her some mead and refilled his own mug, taking a deep swallow before continuing. “The treaty is a way to bring the others in line, which will be less of a challenge with everything written down for all to see. A very exciting time.”

  His smile couldn’t be contained. She nodded, shoveling a spoonful of the porridge into her mouth to avoid speaking.

  “I will be back anon.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and was gone.

  “Ye haven’t told him still?” Terrence spoke from just behind her, his voice only loud enough for her to hear.

  She swallowed. “Of what d’ye speak?”

  Turning to him, she feigned confusion at the question, but his expression never wavered.

  “Ye know what I refer to. If it was not him, he needs to know who it was.”

  Turning back to her porridge, she closed her eyes, struggling to steady her breathing and her fears. “Ye take on too much. See to yer own duty.”

  Her clipped words carried enough irritation that anyone else would have taken the hint and left her alone. Not Terrence. He stood there. Unmoving.

  Brighit felt the weight of his rift with Darragh. She knew she was the cause of it, but she wanted more time with her husband.

  “What d'ye want from me?” She hissed the words, glancing around to be sure no one else was watching them. “I tell ye it does not matter.”

  “I assure ye that it does and I will not keep the secret from him any longer. Either ye tell him or I will.”

  Terrence marched away without a backward glance. Brighit shoved the wooden bowl aside, her appetite gone. It was Devin who sought her out a few minutes later.

  “Lady, we await ye. Darragh is seeing to yer mount.”

  The thought of riding side saddle the entire way rankled her last nerve, but she held her tongue and slapped a smile across her face. At least the need for speed would ensure she was not expected to ride in the carriage. “Of course. Lead the way.”

  The men were still preparing for the trip and she was quickly abandoned by Devin, who went to help his father load some of his belongings.

  “Brighit.” Darragh’s excitement was obvious. “Ye have eaten?”

  “I am ready.”

  Darragh glanced at her gown. “Did Devin not bring ye what I’d sent him with?”

  Weary by now, she was in no mood for any games. “He did not, Darragh. Are we ready to leave?”

  His bewilderment at her sharp tone quickly shifted into pleasure. “Wait here.”

  “Devin.” Darragh approached the man in three strides, ripping a sack from his hands.

  “Apologies.” Devin called after him. “I had forgotten.”

  Darragh shook his head then smiled, holding out the sack. “Go get changed.”

  She glanced down at her green gown. “To what purpose?”

  He frowned at her. “Will ye argue with me on everything?”

  She ripped the sack from his hand, eyes surely aflame, and turned about to head back to her room. Once there, she ripped open the sack and dumped the contents on the bed. Her trews had been neatly folded inside along with a heavy mantle cut small enough for her petite frame but long enough to cover anything the trews may reveal. Tears filled her eyes, making it hard for her to change quickly. By the time she had clubbed her long hair back, she knew they would all be waiting for her.

  Brighit’s expression spoke of her gratitude when she approached Darragh. The others fell silent as they watched her cross to him.

  “A ghráidh, ye have pleased me greatly. How blessed I am to have ye as my husband.”

  She kissed him, and he kissed her back just as passionately, breaking it only so that he could glare at the others who had their eyes stuck on them.

  He said, “A moment to ourselves, if ye please.”

  As one, the others turned their horses away.

  “Ye like it?”

  “’Tis wonderful, Darragh. Ye are wonderful. Many thanks for yer thoughtfulness.”

  “I will admit it was for selfish reasons.”

  Brighit’s brow furrowed.

  “We will ride much faster.” He put his lips to her ears. “And I will be here to see to ye if ye have any need for…release from the…sensitivity ye may experience.”

  “Many thanks.”

  In a short time, they were on their way. The others in the group were known to her. From the Meachair, Francis and his two elder sons accompanied him. The sheepish grins they directed at her were endearing. To have men so very huge duck low whenever she glanced at them made her smile.

  “Brighit, is this the first time ye have been so far south? Devin asked.”

  “Aye.”

  “I understand yer sense of adventure is greater than most women.”

  She paused to control the grin that threatened to erupt. “Mayhap ’tis only my husband supporting my desire for adventure that makes me appear so different.”

  “Ah, a wise woman, too, Darragh.” Francis glanced at her husband. “A fine one to argue the points of law with before ye must confront the others.”

  A chill passed over her skin at the thought of Darragh discussing any punishment with her. She had lain awake most of the night considering what to do. Her thoughts continued to bring her to the same conclusion: she could do nothing to encourage Seigine’s kingship. And that meant the truth would be revealed, either by her or by Seigine.

  Brighit had decided to tell Darragh herself. If he wasn’t too angry to speak to her, he could tell her what she should do. The hours of restlessness had taken their toll, however, and she found herself yawning now.

  “Did ye not sleep well?” Darragh had ridden up alongside her. “Ye tossed about quite a bit.”

  “Mayhap ’twas the sudden softness of our bedding.” She forced a smile.

  “Ah, my thanks for not accusing me of not seeing to ye properly.”

  Brighit gasped with embarrassment and looked to where Francis had been a moment earlier. He had moved ahead and was riding alongside Terrence now. With a start, she realized no one was nearby. This may be her only chance to speak to him.

  Darragh smiled mischievously. “Ye believe I would speak of our private moments so that all could hear? Ye think little of me.”

  Her eyes rounded and she reached for him.

  His concern was evident in his expression as he moved in close to take her hand. “I was teasing.”

  “Forgiveness?” The word was heavy with meaning. When she told him what happened, could he possibly forgive her?

  “Always.”

  She prayed that was true. “Darragh, I need to te—”

  “The paths split ahead.” Iain called back to Darragh. “Which way do we go?”

  Darragh’s look of exasperation was followed by a kiss to her hand. “A moment please.”

  Fear squeezed her throat as she helplessly watched him move to the front of the group.

  As they neared the end of their travels, Darragh was greatly relieved that he would soon have Brighit to himself again. At least they would have their own chamber, a place that they could call their own. Though they’d stopped at various houses along the way that had opened their doors to accommodate the weary travelers, they’d had little time to be alone with many squeezed into each room. At meals he would see to her, but not as he would have liked.

  Brighi
t seemed more comfortable with the others now that she was dressed as a lad and riding her own mount. Could her earlier discomfort have come from being around so many people she did not know? He saw Terrence and scoffed. She’d felt comfortable enough to tell him, a near stranger, what she would not share with her own husband. Even though they were getting closer, she’d still offered no explanations about what had transpired with Terrence and he refused to continue questioning her.

  Terrence’s cold demeanor had softened some toward him, but his old friend still refused to give any details about what he knew and, more importantly, why he continued to avoid Darragh. Mayhap if Darragh could ease his concerns about Brighit’s unhappiness. After they stopped for the midday repast, he sought out his friend before everyone took to their horses again.

  “Will we be home this night?” Iain called to him as he passed, his travel-weary expression lightened by the excitement in his eyes.

  Darragh smiled. “Mayhap by the evening meal.”

  The men’s excited voices carried as they mounted. Devin was to take the lead for the rest of the way with Iain alongside of him.

  Darragh finally caught sight of Terrence and came up alongside him as the man pulled on his leather gloves.

  “Terrence.” Darragh put a hand to his arm to stop him from mounting his horse. “We will need to talk when we arrive. As my second—and my friend—there should be nothing held back from me.”

  The man’s nostrils flared slightly before he glanced toward the others to be certain no one was listening.

  “Something is not right, but I beg ye to speak to yer wife yerself.” Terrence’s eyes pierced his before he spoke again. “Tell me ye would never hurt the lass.”

  Darragh pulled back as if he’d been punched. “How could ye think that of me?”

  “Just tell me.” Terrence hissed the words through gritted teeth, his expression revealing the torment in his mind. “Reassure me.”

  Torn between relieving his friend’s concerns and offense at such an accusation, Darragh didn’t answer immediately. The others were mounted, patiently waiting, and glanced toward them.

  “I would never put a hand to her in anger. I am called to protect her—to be her sole protector.” He moved in closer, gripping the man’s shirt. “And ye will tell me now why ye could think such a thing of me after knowing me all these years.”

  Terrence gulped. “She had bruises on her face.”

  The earth tilted beneath Darragh’s feet. He could not have heard him aright. “What?”

  “That was the reason she wore the powder, to cover it up.”

  Darragh reeled back from the man, unable to form a coherent thought. She’d finally stopped wearing the powder, but he’d believed it was at his request. With her stubborn streak, he wasn’t surprised it had taken a few days for her to give in.

  “Is ought amiss?” Brighit called to him, turning her courser toward them.

  “We’re anxious to be on our way, man.” Francis’s gruff voice was met with agreement by those around them. “My arse is sore as hell and I’m looking forward to a long soak. Can ye not speak to my son after we’ve arrived?”

  “Certainly.” Darragh glared at Terrence, his voice low enough for his ears only. “Do not make me find ye, Terrence. Ye will explain yerself right quick.”

  Darragh mounted and pressed past the others to take the lead himself. Clicking his tongue, he urged his horse into a fast gallop that left the rest struggling to keep up. At this pace, he expected to be able to question Terrence long before sunset, leaving him with enough time to confront his wife. That suited him fine.

  Chapter 22

  Along the trail that followed the coast, Darragh rode as a man possessed. Terrence’s words ran over and over again in his head like a monk’s chant. Now that he knew about the bruises, he was struck anew by the fact that she had confided in Terrence rather than him. Darragh had unknowingly given her several opportunities to explain the powder and why she was using it. She had chosen not to.

  The fact hurt him deeply. Had he ever given her any reason to believe he would not care? Never. She’d even compared him with her own father. But she had not trusted him enough to reveal someone was abusing her, and she’d gone so far as to hide the bruises from him.

  Francis and Devin had tried to engage him at different points along the route, but Darragh could not be moved to respond. When the castle was finally in sight, Francis came alongside him to pull back on his reins.

  Darragh turned on him with an angry scowl. “What are ye about?”

  “I’m thinking ye need to calm yerself before ye have the entire castle up in arms.”

  A quick glance toward Brighit showed she, too, was concerned, though she didn’t speak.

  “Is something amiss?” Francis’s kind eyes were rounded with concern and Darragh felt chagrined by his own behavior.

  He shook his head. “I have much on my mind. I need to sort out some things.”

  The older man glanced over his shoulder and moved closer, lowering his voice even more. “Have they to do with yer wife?”

  “Why would ye ask that?”

  “Of everyone here, she’s the most upset by yer behavior, Darragh.”

  He glanced at the hands fisted in his lap. Taking a cleansing breath, he struggled to calm the demons in his mind. The feelings of inadequacy. The belief that he had been found lacking. Had he known Brighit was hurt, he would have moved heaven itself to care for her and see her avenged.

  “I have too much on my mind.”

  “I should not have interrupted yer talk with Terrence?” Francis flattened his lips. “Forgiveness please for interrupting ye both. Please go and see him now. I will lead the rest in and see yer wife settled. Come when ye have learned what ye need to.”

  Brighit watched with concern as her horse was led past Darragh. He offered her not even a word and it seemed strange that he would stay behind. Impulsively, she blew him a kiss. The shadows fell away from his face and he smiled back. She released the breath that had tightened her chest. Though she’d had no chance to speak with Darragh, she’d had a lot of time to reflect on the things he’d said and the way he’d accepted her for herself. Surely those were good signs that he would not turn his back on her completely. Mayhap together they could face what was to happen.

  “Well, lady Brighit,” Francis said, “I have the duty to see ye inside. I’ll be happy to have such a lovely lass on my arm.”

  She glanced at her clothing then gave him a dubious expression.

  Francis laughed. “Think nothing of it. My wife dresses the same when we travel together.”

  Brighit’s mouth opened, her gaze sharpening with incredulity. “And no one thought to share that with me?”

  “Share that with ye?” The man scratched at his heavy brow in a thoughtful way. “To what purpose?”

  Her nostrils flared, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent.

  “Ah, I suppose I should have thought of it.” Francis was clearly saying whatever he thought would get him out of her bad graces. “Let me help ye dismount.”

  They entered the small area alongside the castle, equipped with a standing block of stone. Francis gallantly lifted her from the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all. Despite his age, he was as strong as he looked.

  When he raised his arm to her, Brighit placed her hand on his forearm and walked with him to the entryway, only to be met by Tisa, whose expression quickly fell. “Oh my.”

  “Good day, Tisa.” Francis dipped his head, his arm still raised for Brighit. “If ye’ll allow us to pass, I believe Brighit would like to rest by the fire.”

  “Of course,” Tisa said before she reached up to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes still rounded with obvious concern as they perused Brighit’s trews.

  “Come, fair Brighit,” Francis said in his courtly tone.

  She would admit she greatly appreciated his attendance on her as they passed through the wide opening to the great hall. Relief flooded
her at finding the hall nearly empty. They’d arrived before the evening repast and only the sound of the servants moving about broke the silence.

  “I must see to my horse, if ye’ll excuse me,” Francis said. “She is not kind to others laying hands on her…much like my wife.” He grinned and was gone in a moment.

  Brighit was taken aback by the sight of Tadhg at the far end of the hall. She hadn’t noticed him when they’d arrived. He was in close conversation with another man, not even his voice carried. Her gaze took in the back of the large man sitting opposite him. The sight of his wolf-skin mantle sent chills through her.

  No.

  Tadhg shifted away and his face brightened when his gaze landed on her. He stood. “Brighit. How lovely to welcome ye home at last.”

  Seigine stood as well and turned toward her, quirking a brow when her mouth dropped open. “Welcome home, Brighit.”

  Darragh waited until the others had passed them before confronting Terrence.

  “Finish what ye started. Tell me everything ye know.”

  The man sighed, looking uncomfortable. “Someone took a fist to Brighit’s face.”

  “What?” The word was more a growl. Duncan had lingered behind and revealed himself now. He was livid.

  Darragh ignored the outburst and directed his question to Terrence. “Did ye ask her where the bruises came from?”

  “She tried to tell me it was from hives.” The man’s face reddened. “And assured me ye’d never hurt her.”

  “Ye needed her to tell ye that?” Darragh shook his head, his hands at his waist.

  “I didn’t believe her since ye’d said nothing to us about it. What other reason would there be for ye not to let us know what had happened?”

  Than if ye had inflicted the bruises yerself.

  Darragh finished his friend’s unspoken thought. If this man—whom he’d counted as his closest friend—knew him at all, he’d know there was nothing that could cause him to hurt anyone except another warrior. Damn him for keeping such a thing from him.

  Clearing his mind, he tried to recall every time he’d seen Brighit prior to the wedding. If the powder was intended to hide her abuse, she had only started using the stuff that day. He had risen early that morn to watch for Brighit, and there’d been no sign of any early-morning visitors.