by Alexa Aston
Only, more never came. Once he had released her and given her one last burning gaze with those cobalt-blue eyes, he left her home without a word. That had been two years ago. She never attempted again, mostly because she fervently believed it was not her place to constantly be offering up kisses. If he wanted her, he needed to come to her. He never did. Here she was, picking blackberries in the rain, wearing rags, and wondering what was to come of her life as she worried about the welfare of her papa.
An owl hooted behind her and her finger slipped off the berry she had been reaching for, snagging on a long thorn. “Cursed creature,” she murmured as she put her bleeding finger in her mouth. Gods, she hated owls. It was not even completely dark yet and that feathered beast had intentionally spooked her. It hooted again and, deciding she had enough berries, she turned swiftly and ran, never minding the sound of ripping fabric as her dingy old red dress caught on a thorn and tore another few inches off the bottom.
Running all the way home as the rain pelted her head, she swiftly flung the door open and heaved for breath while she dripped water all over the floor. Looking up, she saw the two large, handsome Wolf Brothers visiting her father, who sat up in bed as much as he could. Most nights, the men visited, and her papa’s pride never allowed him to stay abed when they were present. They had truly been generous with their aid and her heart warmed when she looked first at Ferghus, who smiled widely at her entrance, then stuttered and stopped when she shifted her gaze to Robert. It was most unfair how he affected her. He was so very different from the lad he had once been. They both were. Muscles covered their large bodies, small beards covered their square jaws. Ferghus had one dimple that flashed at her whenever he smiled, which was often.
But something about Robert turned her legs to mush. Looking down, she realized how awful she looked with her dress torn to just below her knees, mud caking her shins. Wet autumn oak leaves clung to the bottom of her boots. She looked like a serving lass. Nay, she looked like a serf. Even serving lasses had clean, well-fitting garments.
“Brianna,” Ferghus stepped forward and kindly took the basket from her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. “You are soaking wet, lass. And your dress is torn.” Putting the basket down, Ferghus removed her cloak next, unclasping the brooch which closed it together at her neck. She stood still, wondering why Ferghus was essentially disrobing her and why her father and his brother simply stood by silently. His eyes drifted briefly to her breasts and she narrowed her eyes in warning. She knew they were quite large and she disliked how men stared at them. And now, with her faded red dress clinging to her body, she felt almost exposed. Crossing her arms, she turned from him and looked at her papa.
“I believe I collected enough berries to make your favorite tart, Papa. I shall get started on it immediately.”
“Mayhap you can save them for tomorrow, lass. We need to talk.” Her father sounded so very solemn that her heart plummeted to her toes. He had become more serious as of late and she truly missed his laughter.
“What is it, Papa? Are you not well?” She rushed over to him and went to sit on his hay mattress before thinking better of it. She was still soaking wet and muddy in places. She did not wish to soil his bedding. Instead, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, frowning when she felt his frail bones through the sagging skin. Deep foreboding took root and she swallowed down her panic.
“Nay, lass. I am not well. I am dying.”
“Nay! Do not say such things!” she choked on her words and tried to pull away in shock. Surprisingly, he held her firmly with residual strength she had not known he possessed.
“’Tis the truth, lass, and the sooner you accept this, the better off you shall be.” He held up a hand to silence her. “We have naught. And we have lived off the charity of the Wolf Brothers long enough. ’Tis time I saw you settled.”
Her heart skittered. Was she finally going to be given away to Robert as his wife? How could her heart break and lift all in the same moment? Papa was preparing for death, yet in that preparation, he had agreed to let her wed Robert. “Oh, Papa. I cannot face such things right now. I must care for you.”
“Nay. You have done all you can. I am your father, Brianna. I need to see this done before I pass over the veil. We have nothing to offer and yet Ferghus has kindly offered for your hand, lass. He promised to care for you and I believe very much that he will. He has been thus far and ’tis time he was rewarded for his good deeds. He deserves a good wife and you deserve a strong husband. You shall match well.”
Her stomach churned and she resisted the urge to cry. Swallowing hard, she forced a smile and looked over her shoulder. Ferghus was staring at her warily, clearly awaiting her response. He was a truly handsome man. Why could her heart not beat as wildly for him as it did for his brother? Her gaze shifted from him to Robert, who stood straight-faced, showing no signs of concern for the matter. Did he truly not care that his brother had asked for her hand? Had he no intention of ever doing so, himself? She supposed not. Reality must be faced. She had given him ample opportunity to start a courtship with her and though she knew he enjoyed her company and showed a lighter side of himself when they were alone, aside from that one burning kiss between them two years ago, Robert had made no effort to wed her.
Standing up straight on shaky legs, her head spun with the life-altering words her father had just spoken. He was dying. They were poor. Ferghus wished to marry her. She needed to marry in order to survive, and if she must wed someone other than Robert, Ferghus was the most logical choice. He was a loving, kind man with a quick wit and though many lassies followed in his wake, he never showed any care for another woman. He had always only had eyes for her. Mayhap it was time for her to stop pining for the wrong brother. Her feelings for Ferghus could grow in time and her papa had been correct that he deserved a good wife. She could be that for him.
Pushing aside her anguish over her father’s failing health, she walked over to Ferghus with a shaky smile and gripped his hands with her own. “I am honored that of all the marriageable lassies in our tuath, you have chosen me. We have been companions for so many years and I would be glad to become your wife.”
Had she just accepted his proposal? It felt like a dream. She had always imagined this moment, but the man in her imaginings always had dark hair and cobalt eyes, not blond hair and light blue eyes. Still, she could not help but feel slightly at peace with the situation. She did, indeed, need to marry and she could do much worse than Ferghus O’Faolain. His smile widened and he lifted her hands up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the tops of each. His eyes sparkled with merriment and she could not help but smile back. Aye, she could learn to love Ferghus. But could she learn to stop loving his brother?
With a sideways glance, she saw Robert near the wall of her hut with his arms crossed and a small frown on his face. He looked unhappy, but he had no reason to be. Why was he narrowing his eyes at her so menacingly? What did he want from her?
That was it. She had had enough of Robert O’Faolain and his burning gaze, yet lack of action. If he was unhappy with her arrangement, it was his own blasted fault. ’Twas time for her to move on with her life. Clearly, the right brother had offered for her and she would focus on that. She scowled at Robert, making sure he saw her discord with him and his brooding mood. She would not allow him to ruin her happiness. Turning away from him quickly, she looked up at Ferghus and focused on his fair features. Would her children be fair like their papa? That thought gave her chills. Ferghus must have noticed, but assumed it was due to her still soaked garments.
“Lass, you will catch a chill.” He rubbed his hands up and down her cold arms and she enjoyed the warmth. “Allow us to leave so you may change. We will be back for the evening meal. We must celebrate!” he laughed, and she could not help but laugh back. He had always had contagious laughter, unlike his brother who seldom let his deep, rich laugh be heard. Nay, she much preferred Ferghus’s light, frequent laughter, she decided. They w
ould have a blessed life. It would take her telling herself this over and over, but she would come to terms. It had been six years of her assuming she would marry another man, so it would take some time to work this out in her mind.
“My thanks,” she dipped her head and gave him a small curtsy. “I am ashamed at my appearance. You are asking for my hand in marriage and yet I look like naught but a poor lass. Well, I am a poor lass,” she murmured.
Ferghus placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to meet his. “You are a beautiful woman who has been through more than most and you have come through it a stronger person. You are loyal, courageous, and worthy of all the world has to offer. I am beyond honored you have accepted my suit and I look forward to spending my life with you. ’Tis time you were properly cared for and as my wife, you will want for naught.” His words were so heartfelt, and she knew them to be true. The Wolf Brothers came from a noble family. They had a much larger home filled with many loved ones, a beautiful farm and lots of cattle. They had been able to help on so many occasions and she had welcomed it, if only for her papa’s sake.
Before she could respond, his head descended and his lips grazed hers in a most tender kiss that made her heart skitter just a bit. It did not have the heated passion behind it that his brother’s kiss had, but it was meaningful and sincere. Besides, he would hardly ravish her with her father sitting abed just behind them. Her father guffawed with happiness, snapping her out of the moment, just as she saw Robert storm past her and Ferghus and out the door like a leaf caught in the wind.
Ferghus released her carefully, bowed, and spun to leave the room, shutting the door behind her just as Papa fell into another coughing fit. She turned and watched her father while he discreetly spit more blood into a linen square. For him to admit he was dying shook her to her core. He usually tried to convince her all was well. She had known the truth, but to hear him say it made her throat close up with emotion.
Walking over to her papa, she took his hand and frowned down at him in concern.
“Nay, sweet lass. Do not frown. ’Tis a happy occasion. You shall wed with one of the finest men in all of Coraindt, and our King Garreth and Queen Ceara shall be in attendance as you say your vows. I will not have you frowning so.”
“I do not want to lose you, Papa.”
“You shall not. I will always be with you. But before my body quits this world, I shall see you settled.” Then his brow furrowed as he stopped to think. “You are happy? Are you not? I know you have been quite fond of Robert, but the lad has made no mention of marriage to me in all these years. Ferghus has made his intentions toward you clear enough since you were a wee lass. In fact, I believe it may be for love of his brother that Robert keeps his distance.”
She shook her head and pondered that. Was there truth in that? Was Robert only refusing to offer for her because he knew his brother wanted her? It was an honorable thing, but a foolish one if it meant neither of them could ever be truly happy. Mayhap she could ask him. But when? She did not know, but she had to try. She had already given her word to Ferghus and would marry him but not if there was still a chance with Robert. It sounded cruel, but the pain of the moment would eventually fade and it was worth the happiness of a lifetime, was it not? Besides, how would Ferghus feel if he knew his wife was in love with his brother? Did she not owe it to all of them to speak with Robert and try to sway him in the proper direction? She thought so.
“I must bathe and change. Then I shall prepare this boar the brothers must have just brought over.”
“You did not answer my question, daughter.”
“I am sorry. I cannot remember what you asked,” she shrugged. She was so cold and her mind was so hazy with her swirling thoughts.
“I asked if you are happy,” he pressed. “I wish for your happiness, mo leanbh.”
“Aye Papa. I will be happy. ’Tis a lot to take in but I will be happy.” She would be even happier once she had a chance to speak with Robert, she amended in her mind.
Chapter Two
He wanted to shout loud enough to startle the gods. He knew this day was going to arrive sooner or later, but now that it had, he could hardly bear it. Watching his brother offer for her hand, listening to his promise to love her forever while he spoke to Niall Ó Mathúna about wedding his daughter, had been hard enough. But when she barged through that door, soaked to the bone and covered in mud with her wild dark hair wrapped around her face, his heart pounded so hard it felt as if he had been kicked in the chest by a horse.
Gods, she was so beautiful and wild, the strongest lass he knew. When she had vowed to marry him six years ago, he should have done something more than stare at her as if she was mad. But she had only been ten summers, just a gangly lass with a wild imagination. He had been much too young to think about such things. A wife? Marriage? Nay.
But she never let go of that dream, even though he tried to keep his distance. He had lost the battle two years ago when she threw herself at him and demanded a kiss. He gave it to her. He wanted to give her even more but she was a wee young lass still in the budding phases of growth and he had already been an almost fully-grown warrior of seven and ten. He had needed a real woman to pleasure, not some young innocent lass who had no idea what life was truly about.
But that was not true. She did understand life, even back then. She had lost her innocence when her mother passed away and life became hard for her and Niall. And still, she knew what she wanted. She wanted him and he had been too foolish to do aught about it. He could have arranged it with her papa for the future, but he was busy training as a warrior with his brother and traveling with other warriors to nearby tuatha for peace alliances and trade. And, if he were being honest with himself, he had been enjoying the many lassies who threw themselves at him along the way. He had simply been too young to consider what was at stake. She had always just been there. He had assumed that she would be waiting for him whenever he was finally ready to settle.
But he had failed to consider one thing. His brother also had a love for the lass and his love outshone Robert’s by far. At least it had in the beginning. While Robert was content to admire her, and spent an ample amount of time with her as he saw fit, Ferghus was growing more and more attached to the hopes of one day marrying her. He would speak of her constantly, to the point where it made Robert want to roll his eyes and tear his hair out. His brother wore his love and affection on his sleeve for all to see, while Robert kept his buried deep in his heart. He could not understand how Ferghus could love her so much that he made a fool of himself… until now.
Now, Robert knew precisely how his brother felt, because he felt it, too. He felt it so painfully, he would rather take a sword to the gut than watch her wed his brother. To watch her grow round with his child, to have to call her sister when all he wanted in this world was to call her wife. But he had made the decision long ago to allow Ferghus his suit. He was a better man for Brianna, anyhow. He was witty, quick to laugh, gentle and always ready with a compliment. Robert had a hard time with words and emotions. They stuck in his throat. He could not come up with a witty jest or make Brianna laugh at nothing. He was coarse and would rather pull her hair and tell her how much he wanted her, taking her hard and fast, than woo her with gentle words. Och, he would make slow love to her every day if he could, but that would not stop his deeper base needs from wanting to plow her.
He shook his head and grumbled as he paced back and forth in front of their family home. Now he was imagining himself plowing his brother’s bride. He was an arse. This was precisely why she deserved Ferghus, who was always so focused on her and only her that he had hardly touched another woman in his life. He was not a brute. Ferghus was larger than most men and a strong fighter, but he was so gentle with Brianna. Stepping aside had been easier when he was younger, but now it was killing him.
She saw him scowling when Ferghus kissed her. She knew and that fact alone was proof that he failed. How was he to pretend for the rest of his life t
hat he did not love her desperately? He did not know, but he had doomed himself to just such a fate. He could never show his true emotions for her. It would devastate his brother and he could not lose him for love of a woman, even if that woman would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Aye, ’twas a fine mess he had made, but now he must live with his decision.
“Why did you leave so swiftly?” Ferghus asked from behind him.
“She was dripping wet. ’Twas clear she was cold and needed to bathe. We had dropped off the boar as intended…though your proposal was not part of the plan.” He tried not to sound accusatory, but he was in a sour mood. Fortunately, it had become the norm as of late, so his brother was not overly concerned by it.
“I know. I am tired of waiting for her, Rob. I have loved her from a distance long enough. ’Tis time to love her up close now,” he said with a wink and a sly smile. Robert grunted and turned away. He did not wish to hear his brother discuss his physical desires for Brianna. Ferghus grew serious and rubbed his short blond beard. “I love her,” he shrugged. “I am tired of seeing her struggle. I can take care of her much better as her husband than I can as her friend. As her father said, he is dying. She will be alone soon and I wish to be there for her when it happens.”
