by Alexa Aston
“How fares the babe, Bri?” He asked awkwardly as he sat. Grabbing a clay bowl, she ladled a large portion of rabbit stew into it and walked over to him. She set the bowl down carefully in front of him before waddling over to serve up more.
“The babe is well, thank you. She kicks something fierce and is up in my ribs. But my time is near and I cannot wait to have her in my arms… not in my ribs,” she smiled and rubbed her lower back.
Ferghus came behind her and guided her to the table. “Sit. I can serve us. You need to sit.” She smiled up at him as he gently lowered her down.
“He dotes unnecessarily on me these days,” she said with mirth to Robert, who simply grunted and rubbed his hands through his beard uncomfortably. He was always uncomfortable around her and she missed the days when they had been great companions, but he had ruined that with his scathing words and lack of remorse. How she could have been so in love with him, she could not fathom. Aye, he was a large and handsome man, but he had none of the affable qualities Ferghus possessed. Ferghus would never call her a whore. Just the memory of it made her stomach clench. It still hurt much more than she cared to remember. He had conviction behind his words when he swore not to love her. At least she had not made a huge mistake and married the wrong brother.
She sat down as far away from Robert as she could. Her belly made it impossible to lean over the low table. “Och, just place the cursed stew upon my belly, love. It makes a better resting place than the actual table these days.”
Ferghus sat down beside her and laughed, placing his stew on the table beside him. “Shall I feed you, Bri?” he smiled and held the stew up to her lips, but she batted it away with a grunt.
“I may be carrying a child, Ferghus, but I am not a child. I can feed myself.” She grabbed the stew and began to sip it slowly. Enjoying her stew, she felt a pair of eyes on her, dark blue ones the color of the sea on a bright summer’s day. It unnerved her and she did her best to keep her eyes focused on her bowl. One, two, three. Three chunks of carrot floating on top of the thick brown gravy. Five chunks of meat. She continued to do aught to stay distracted, but her skin was tingling with awareness.
Her better senses fled and she slowly looked up to meet those eyes. How she wished she had not. The intense fire in his eyes as he took all of her in, shifting from her face to her breasts and swollen belly, made her insides quiver. Och, she hated him. She must continually tell herself that. She had loved him so very intensely only a year ago, but he had been so cruel to her and never once tried to apologize. He was a brute, lout, arse and every other awful word she could think of. If only she could make herself stop loving him.
It was odd enough to love and hate a person all in the same breath, but to love two brothers with all her heart? It was often too much to bear… but it was her reality. She had fallen very much in love with Ferghus. He was the very best of men and she found that she could not imagine life without him. She would spend the rest of her life with him, and happily so. If only her love for Ferghus could erase her love for Robert. The difference was that Ferghus had never called her a faithless whore. He had never claimed to not love her. He was not brooding, arrogant, or mysterious. Nay, Ferghus loved her openly. He would never call her such vile names. He whispered sweet words to her nightly as he made love to her and she reveled in his touch. He had given her a child and he would help her raise it. And best of all, she knew he would be a kind, loving father.
She grimaced at Robert and narrowed her hazel eyes, letting him know that she saw his glances and did not appreciate them. How dare he call her faithless, yet come into her home and ogle her, his brother’s wife? He was a hypocrite, but she had to keep the peace, so she quickly looked away as Ferghus plopped down beside her, kissing her cheek before diving into his stew.
“By the gods, woman! ’Tis the best rabbit stew you have ever made,” he declared through a mouthful of meat.
She rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. “You say that every time I make it, Fergh.”
“Well, then it must get better and better every time.” He smiled and then looked at Robert. “You must find yourself a wife, brother. I have never eaten so well in my life.”
“I am certain mother would box your ears if she heard you say that,” Robert grunted, and took a large gulp from his bowl. “But, in truth, ’tis most delicious. My thanks for the meal, Bri.”
She flared her nostrils and bit back a retort. She had not made this meal for him. It had been for her husband, who deserved her meals. He deserved nothing from her but the slap she had laid on him that night one year ago. How she wished to do so again. It was a wonder she had kept her contempt for Robert hidden from Ferghus this past year. He loved his brother and she did not want to be the cause of any trouble. She was also ashamed that the animosity between her and Robert had started because she wished to convince him to marry her. She had been a fool. If he had wanted her, he would have asked for her. Why she thought it was best for them all if she and Robert married, she had no idea. Obviously, Ferghus had been her fate all along, and she simply needed to forget her past mistakes and focus on the here and now.
A pounding on the door made Brianna screech like the same cursed owl that still taunted her nightly and her stew spilled all over her green dress, burning her belly. “Ow!”
Ferghus was on his feet within a second and Robert was up just after that. “Are you all right, love?” Ferghus asked as he used his own blue tunic to wipe up the mess. “Did it burn you?”
“Aye, a wee bit, but I am all right.”
Robert reached out to help wipe a chunk of carrot off her dress, but she smacked his hand protectively. With a small frown, he pulled his hand away.
The pounding continued. “Ferghus! Robert! The king is calling all his warriors to gather! Open the door!”
Brianna froze and looked up at her husband. She knew that voice, although she had heard it less and less over the years since he had tied her to that tree seven years ago. He had continued his pursuit of her relentlessly until she finally married Ferghus. Since then, Keegan had used his good sense and virtually ignored her. They had remained uneasy companions simply because they grew up together, but his voice always gave her pause.
“’Tis Keegan,” Ferghus whispered to her, knowing the man made her uncomfortable. She nodded and continued to dab at the gravy stain soaking her dress while Ferghus hopped up quickly to open the door.
Keegan looked winded, his blond hair standing on end and his eyes wild. “What is it, Keegan?” Ferghus said with an edge. “You scared my wife half to death and she spilled hot stew all down herself, you arse!”
Keegan looked over Ferghus’s shoulder and muttered a rather unconvincing apology before seeing Robert standing beside her. “King Garreth needs us. Raiders have been spotted in the distance, just outside the gates. The guards have raised the alarm. ’Tis the cursed O’Neills again!”
“Och, I thought we had put this feud to rest when our king finally took theirs down! They said they wanted peace!”
“Apparently, they want our cattle and our lassies instead,” Robert groused from behind them. “We must head out.” Both Robert and Ferghus dashed over to the wall where their swords rested and gripped them in their hands. These men were so well-trained that their swords looked to Brianna to be a very part of them. Still, her stomach clenched with worry.
“You cannot leave me, Ferghus!” she wailed and clutched his blue tunic sleeve. She could feel the panic rising. Their babe was due to arrive any day. What if she went into labor while he was away? What if he was wounded, or worse? “Please do not go! We have enough warriors!”
He looked down at her tenderly and his eyes softened at her concern. “I must go, Bri. ’Tis my responsibility and my honor to protect Coraindt. We have battled the O’Neills enough times to know they cannot win. I shall be back before you know it.”
“What if you are not? We may win the raid, but what if I lose you? I cannot lose you!” She was begging now, pulling o
n him relentlessly. She had known what it meant to marry a warrior, but they had been living in relative peace the past few years since their king fought man-to-man with the greedy chieftain of the O’Neills. She had ignorantly believed Ferghus would never truly have need to fight. Reality enveloped her in the tight grip of panic and she was sure she would hyperventilate as tears streamed down her cheeks relentlessly.
“Do not weep, love. I will be all right. I must go.” He tilted her head up and kissed her softly just before releasing her and heading for the door.
“Ferghus!” she shouted, louder than she meant to. He turned to look at her just before he left the house. “I love you!” She wanted to say so much more, but in her frazzled state and with him halfway out the door, it was all she could muster to say. Why was she so fearful? He had fought in raids before. But with her swollen belly serving as a constant reminder of all she had to lose, she could not shake her nerves.
He flashed his usual easy grin and winked at her playfully, obviously trying to soothe her fears. “Brianna O’Faolain, I love you more than I love my own life. I always have and I always will. I will be home before sunrise.”
Robert glanced at her with a deep frown and she turned away. She could not stand the thought of anything happening to either one of them. But Ferghus was her husband and she could only spare words for him.
The door shut and she was left alone in her home, with the fire crackling soothingly behind her and her babe kicking wildly within her womb. The only thing left for her to do was wait and pray.
Chapter Five
“These bastards do not know when to give up,” Robert roared as they walked toward the field to meet their king for instructions.
“They will not give up as long as our cattle thrive, and our land and lassies remain lush,” Keegan added.
“All you think about is lassies, Keegan. Even before battle,” Ferghus said with a wry smile.
“Especially before a battle,” Keegan amended. “After this, I will need to find a serving lass to handle my post-battle needs.”
Robert wanted to punch the man, anything to stop his blabber. Ferghus may be the forgiving sort, but he was not. He had never forgiven Keegan for what he did to Brianna that night years ago. There was something about Keegan that set Robert on edge. A man who was willing to leave a lass of ten summers tied to a tree because she refused to kiss him was no friend of his.
“There you are!” their king boomed in the dark distance. The sky was black and stars twinkled in between heavy cloud cover, but several lit tallow candles helped guide them toward the gathered troops. “We need the might of the Wolf Brothers if we are to show those O’Neills who they are dealing with,” King Garreth said calmly. Clearly, he was not concerned about the outcome of the battle.
“We are here, my king,” Robert said with a bow of his head.
“Aye, apologies for the delay. My wife is large with child and her nerves have been on edge this week. Her time grows near and she was desperate for me to stay by her side,” Ferghus added.
Their king nodded in understanding. “’Tis never easy to leave a wife for battle. Ceara is most upset, as well, and she is not even with child. I cannot imagine how Brianna must feel. We will have you back whole and hale in nay time.”
Robert’s stomach clenched, as it had almost every day for the past year. Brianna was his sister, not his wife, and it was a hard reality to swallow. She had meant what she said in the woods that day. She truly hated him and she was very much in love with Ferghus now. It was as it should be, he reminded himself. Ferghus was a loving husband and would make a fine father. He was much better at expressing himself than Robert was, and Brianna deserved that in a man. Still, his love for her haunted him, as did every loving exchange she and Ferghus shared. And when she announced she was with child, it was as if someone had reached inside and pulled his guts out slowly.
His brother was living the life he had always wanted and yet, he stood by his decision to allow it. He could have had her, but at the cost of his brother’s happiness. Seeing just how happy Ferghus and Brianna were now only solidified his belief that he had made the right choice, even if it destroyed him daily. He felt envy slice through him as he listened to Ferghus and King Garreth discuss their wives. Aye, he wanted a wife, but only one lass would do and she was taken.
He needed to change the subject and focus on battle. “How many riders, my king?”
“Scores. It appears they have combined forces with another small local tuath. They think to best us with larger numbers of weaker men,” he grunted. “We must get into formation and prepare to meet the enemy before they close in on our gates!” He suddenly roared to all his surrounding warriors, “We cannot allow them near our women or children!”
The iron gates groaned loudly as they were opened by a few men, and nearly five score warriors, armed with swords, spears, bows, daggers, and shields, roared as they charged through the gates, blood pumping as their war cry echoed across the land. Robert and his men ran downhill where they could clearly see the enemy closing in at the bottom. They had to get down the slope of the hill and reach flat land before the battle. Fighting on a slope would be a huge disadvantage, even though their hillfort was strategically built high on a hill. With only one way in or out and large trenches beneath the gates, it was nearly impossible to penetrate, but it was not simply defense King Garreth was interested in.
Aye, they could all stay within their walls and remain safe while the enemy tried unsuccessfully to force their way in, but to what end? It mattered not if the O’Neills had teamed up with another tuath. They could not best Coraindt and its well-honed warriors. King Garreth was known as one of the fiercest warriors in all the land and he had yet to lose a battle.
Blood pumped in Robert’s veins as the hard ground pounded beneath his feet. He roared in unison with his fellow soldiers, feeling the cold air wrap around his already sweating body. Though it had been years since a battle erupted with the O’Neills, there had been other attempts at cattle raiding that both he and Ferghus had fought against. He knew the feeling of victory. He also knew the sacrifice of death that too many men faced for that victory. But as warriors, it was their job to defend their women, children and elderly from those who would see them harmed or taken as slaves.
As they reached flat ground, the grass beneath his boots was slick from the recent rains and he knew the elements would make this battle a hard one with only a crescent moon hanging in the sky to light the world. Fighting in the dark was never ideal, but they could not choose the time of day an enemy would strike.
Their men had come face-to-face with the enemy and the sound of metal clashing with metal rang through the night, as did the sounds of men grunting with exertion. One man yelped and Robert heard the gurgle of death just behind him. It had been one of his own but he did not have the time to turn and investigate. A man was coming straight for him with his sword at the ready. One wrong step and he would join his fellow warrior in death.
With a roar, Robert raised his own sword in defense and charged at the man running wildly toward him. Their swords connected and he felt the reverberation running through his arm. It was painful, but nothing he was not used to after training for so many years. The man bared his teeth and Robert grunted with the effort to push him away with his boot to gain more ground. The man flew back a few feet, but came at Robert again. This time, Robert kept his sword low and forced it into the enemy’s belly with all his might. The man grunted, and his eyes grew wide as he crumpled. Pulling his sword from the warrior’s body, Robert groaned and stepped away, circling to look for more enemies. Taking lives always left scars on a man’s soul, but he would ponder that later. Every enemy on this field had willingly brought this battle and the price for that error was death.
Men began to fall around him and, though the numbers had been almost evenly matched when the battle began, he was not surprised to see many more of his men left than the enemy. As King Garreth predicted, their opponents had in
creased their numbers, but their skill and might could not outshine the warriors of Coraindt, who spent most of their days training in all the elements and for all occasions. Fighting in the dark on wet grass was hardly an obstacle for his men, though it appeared to be the undoing of the others.
“Behind you, Wolf!” he heard a man shout. Spinning quickly, he raised his sword just in time to block what would have been a killing blow to his skull had he not been warned. His foot lost traction when he stepped on a small boulder, twisting his ankle. He groaned at the pain as he heard his foot snap, and stumbled back. His sword hand faltered as he righted himself and tried to block the man’s onslaught.
It all felt like slow motion. He could tell by the angle of the man’s blade that he would not be able to block it before it cut him through. After years of training, a cursed stone beneath his boot had been his undoing. Large man that he was, he was strong and quick, but he had always been clumsier than he preferred. And now, the sword was descending on him inch by torturous inch.
He lifted his own sword, but even in his effort, he knew he might strike the man, but not before he was run through. Something strange happened in those last seconds. His mind calmed and he felt himself welcoming death. He had naught to live for anyway. He would miss his brother, Ginny, and his parents, but they would go on. Then mossy hazel eyes and shining dark hair swam before his vision, and he felt a warmth come over him. Love. He had loved a good woman, even if she had not loved him. Nay, she had loved him and he pushed her away intentionally so his brother could be happy. In the end, he was already a miserable lout. Ferghus, on the other hand, had a brilliant soul and always felt the light side of life. He could never allow himself to be the cause of his brother’s turn from the light.
