“Good God, Ronan, you don’t have to be so rough!”
“And you’d do well to remember where your allegiance lies,” he countered harshly, pulling Caitlin to the front door. “We’ll talk of this later, Niall O’Byrne.”
“Wait, Ronan, it’s pouring out there!” Triona objected, running into Niall’s room and snatching up Caitlin’s cloak. But Ronan didn’t wait for her, dragging his hostage into the rain. Triona could do no more than cast an anxious glance at Niall before she dashed outside.
“Where are you taking her?” she demanded, doing her best to fling the cloak around Caitlin’s hunched shoulders as Ronan wrenched the sobbing girl along with him.
“Our dwelling-house, woman. Do you think your little plot has changed my mind? Now I’ve all the more reason to keep an eye on the wench, thanks to you!”
Knowing that he meant Niall, Triona swallowed nervously. She fell back a bit, starting when Aud caught up with her, a soaked blanket pulled over her maid’s head like a cloak.
“I’m so sorry, sweeting! There wasn’t anything I could do.”
“It’s all right, Aud. Ronan’s taking Caitlin to my room. It was his plan before he even came to the grain house.”
“But where did the O’Byrne find you?”
“At Niall’s house,” Triona said distractedly, cold rain lashing at her face. “But we can’t talk about that now. Promise me you’ll look after Caitlin. She’ll need a hot bath, dry clothes—”
“Aye, I’ll see to it.”
“And send a bath at once to our room. And wine, Aud! Lots of wine. Ronan’s in a terrible temper.…” Glancing ahead of her, Triona winced as Ronan practically hauled Caitlin over the threshold. “I’ve got to go to him. I’ll see that the key is left for you in Caitlin’s door.”
Aud’s reply was lost as Triona splashed across the yard, anger sweeping her that Ronan could be so cruel. Yet for once she prudently held her tongue when she got inside, Ronan’s face truly ominous to behold as he slammed the door behind Caitlin and ground the key in the lock. Then he turned his wrath upon her, jerking his head toward their room.
“Inside. Now.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Triona silently obeyed him, bristling at his harsh command yet determined to keep her own temper in check. She’d gotten what she wanted after all, and most importantly, she and Ronan were back together. Now if only she could diffuse his fury—
She jumped as the door slammed shut, spinning around to face him. She doubted she’d seen him angrier, at least where she was concerned. Hoping to somehow lighten the tension, she gave him a small smile.
“Close the door any harder, Ronan, and you’d have brought the roof down upon us.”
When he didn’t readily reply, instead wresting his sodden cloak from his shoulders and hurling it with a wet smack to the floor, Triona knew her attempt had failed. Especially when he moved toward her, his storm gray eyes burning into hers.
“You think this is a jesting matter, Triona?”
“If…if you mean Niall,” she began, edging backward.
“Aye, I mean Niall,” Ronan broke in tightly, advancing upon her. “You’re playing the matchmaker again, woman, but this time with fire and water, two things that can never mate. Each can only consume or smother the other—”
“And you’re making much more of this than there is!” she blurted, half stumbling when she suddenly backed into a chair. Ronan caught her by the shoulders before she could fall, but she didn’t try to wrench away from him despite that his grip was punishing. Instead she lifted her chin and faced him squarely. “I hoped Niall might see things differently than you, is all.”
“It seems he has,” Ronan said. “Swayed by flowing blond hair and a face and form any man might lust over, no matter that the cursed wench is a MacMurrough.”
“Oh, so you have noticed how pretty Caitlin is,” Triona spouted indignantly, realizing, too, that she didn’t like it one bit. To her surprise, a flicker of amusement crossed Ronan’s face but he quickly sobered as if trying hard to hang on to his anger.
“Aye, with eyes as lovely and green as yours. And skin almost as fair.”
Triona’s mouth fell open; vexation overwhelmed her. Now she did try to twist away from him, nearly managing it when she stomped on his foot. But if she’d hurt him, he gave no sign, grabbing her around the waist in such a way that her back came up hard against his chest.
“A wee bit jealous, Triona O’Toole?” came his hot whisper against her ear.
“Not at all,” she lied, still struggling against him despite the delicious chills racing through her. “You can look where you will, you spawn! We’re not married yet, after all.”
He twirled her around so suddenly to face him that she felt lightheaded, his powerful arms closing so tightly around her that she could scarcely breathe.
“Do you truly think that I could look further than eyes that shine with the spirit of ten women and copper curls with enough gold fire to rival the sun? Soft skin the color of finest cream and a body so perfectly fashioned as to haunt a thousand dreams?”
“Only a thousand?” she could not help teasing him though her voice was no more than a whisper.
“Aye, greedy as she is brazen,” he countered huskily, his lips so close to hers that she ached to taste them. “Very well, woman. A lifetime of dreams.”
He lifted her and kissed her so passionately that Triona was certain if her feet had been touching the ground, her knees would have buckled beneath her. It was so wonderful to feel his mouth on hers again! So wonderful to feel the strength of his arms, his honed body pressed so intimately against her breasts, her belly, her hips, a blazing heat rising between them despite the cool dampness of their clothes. Her head was truly spinning when he finally released her, but even so Triona couldn’t resist teasing him further.
“So I’m to be marrying a poet, am I?”
“Aye, I’ve been known to have a way with words—at least I did before Conor…”
Seeing the sudden pain in his eyes, Triona reached up and gently touched the side of his face. “All’s forgiven, remember? And forgotten. If I’m to haunt your dreams, Ronan O’Byrne, there can’t be any more room for Conor. Let’s leave him rest, or at least smile when we think of him. Agreed?”
Ronan nodded, burying his face in her hair as he enveloped her in a crushing embrace. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke long moments later, his gentle teasing only endearing him that much more to Triona’s heart.
“So it seems I’m to be marrying a sage.”
“A sage is it now? I thought I was your angel?”
“Aye, you’re that, and a good bit of a troublemaker, too.” He drew back to look at her, his expression growing sober. “But I’ll keep you all the same if you promise not to meddle again in matters best left for me to manage.”
“What? And let you have all the fun?”
That comment brought a frown to Ronan’s face, but it fled when Triona rose on tiptoes and kissed him. She even teased his lips with a darting swipe of her tongue just to make him smile, but that only made him groan, and pull her close, funneling his fingers through her hair.
“By God, woman, it’s been too long since I’ve held you like this. Too long—”
The sudden knock at the door made Ronan groan again, but this time out of frustration. Reluctantly releasing Triona, he bade her as he moved across the room, “Stay right where you are.”
“I have no intention of going anywhere,” came her low-spoken reply, her seductive smile making it all the more difficult for Ronan to take his eyes from her. But he did, opening the door to find Fiach O’Byrne.
“We heard you found the girl, Lord. I wanted you to know that guards have been posted outside her windows as you ordered. Do you want a man stationed at her door?”
“No, the lock will be enough,” Ronan answered, not wanting any of his clansmen standing guard in the outer room just in case he and Triona might decide to enjoy the hearth fire togethe
r.
As Fiach nodded and turned away, Ronan began to shut the door only to hear another sharp rap. Exhaling with impatience, he discovered Aud standing outside, the poor woman drenched and breathless, her face drawn with worry.
“The water…is here for your bath, Lord.”
“I ordered no bath,” Ronan began, only to hear Triona come up behind him.
“No, but I did. And some wine.”
“Wine?” he queried, raising a black brow.
“To soothe you,” she said simply, glancing past him to give Aud a reassuring smile. When Ronan turned back to the older woman, he could see that she had visibly relaxed, the sparkle returned to her large brown eyes.
“Aye well, since it seems to me you won’t be needing as much soothing, I’ll just send one of those casks back to the kitchen,” Aud said as she gestured for the servants lined up behind her to start carrying in the water for the tub.
Ronan glanced wryly at Triona as they both stepped out of the way. “Two casks of wine? I would have been senseless, not soothed.”
Triona shrugged as she looked up at him, though she curled her hand into his large warm one. “I wasn’t sure my kisses would prove enough for the task, so I came up with a secondary plan.”
She was thrilled when Ronan drew her close against him, his impatient expression matching her own eagerness that the servants quickly finish filling the tub and then leave them in peace. But Ronan’s husky whisper thrilled her all the more, his words meant only for her ears.
“Your kisses would have found you tossed upon my bed if we’d had no interruptions, woman. I need no wine to feel drunk from the taste of you.”
Her breath caught at the scorching look in his eyes. Triona was scarcely aware that Aud and the rest of the servants had left the room. But Ronan had noticed because he made a move to close the door only to suddenly stiffen. A frown marred his features as he stared at the six brimming buckets waiting near the hearth, then to Aud who was looking at him wide-eyed and worried again.
“Is that water not for our bath as well?”
Triona quickly came to Aud’s rescue. “The rest is for Caitlin, Ronan, at my orders—”
“Your orders?” he cut in, a muscle flashing at his jaw. “I’d rather it be thrown outside into the mud than—”
“Please, Ronan,” Triona said softly, squeezing his hand. “Let Aud see to Caitlin’s needs. Please.”
He didn’t answer for what seemed to Triona the longest time, but finally she felt some of the tension ease from his body.
“Very well, bathe the accursed chit. And Aud…”
“Aye, Lord?”
“See to yourself as well. I don’t relish answering to Taig O’Nolan if you catch a chill.”
Aud smiled, a blush warming her cheeks. “I’ll change into some dry clothes straightaway, Lord.”
“It’s Ronan. Call me Ronan.”
“Thank you, Lord. I mean, Ronan.”
“As for the rest of you,” Ronan addressed the servants who stood waiting for Aud’s direction. “Tell the cook that I’ll be expecting a fine supper to be served tonight in the hall. We’ve known little merriment these past days but that sorry state”—he glanced meaningfully at Triona—“I’m pleased to say has changed.” He closed the door on a ring of astonished faces, leaving him and Triona finally, blessedly, alone.
“Thank you, Ronan,” she murmured, seeing that his face still bore a hint of hardness. “It was a very kind thing you’ve done for Caitlin—”
“I’ve done nothing for the girl,” he broke in, though Triona knew his harsh tone was not directed at her. “All I’ve done is for you, Triona. Never forget that. I wouldn’t care if that MacMurrough wench sat in her room shivering the night away. But I care about you and for that reason alone, I will yield to your wishes.” He swore fluently under his breath as he stepped away from the door. “Though I grant you, it’s not going to be easy for me. Just the thought that she’s under my roof…”
Triona heard the sheer loathing in his voice and shivered, grateful that she had his love and not his hate. Quickly she shed her wet cloak, but she didn’t hasten overmuch as she began to slip her jerkin from her shoulders.
“Then what can I do to distract you, Ronan? Since you’ve given me so much, surely there must be something I can give you.”
“Aye, there’s something,” he murmured, walking toward her. Within the blink of an eye he had hauled his drenched tunic over his head and tossed it aside, his hands moving to his trousers. “Are you going to undress, Triona O’Toole, or is it your plan merely to stare at me?”
Triona gave a saucy smile as her gaze roamed appreciatively over his bare chest. “But there’s so much for me to admire…Ronan!” She shrieked as he lunged for her and caught her around the waist.
“Don’t you think I’d like to admire you as well?”
Ronan had slid her sodden shirt over her head before Triona could shriek again, her breasts bared to his admiring gaze. But he didn’t stand there looking at her for long, opting instead for sweeping her into his arms and tossing her onto the bed.
“What of our hot bath?” she blurted, made breathless as he straddled her hips, his eyes blazing into hers like molten silver. “You must be chilled from being so long in the rain—”
“With a wild one like you beneath me?” he cut in huskily, bending down to tease a roused nipple with his tongue. As Triona arched beneath him, he laughed, a deliciously wicked sound that excited her as much as his suckling. After he’d played with her breasts for a heart-stopping moment longer, he lifted his dark head to stare into her eyes.
“You’ll keep me warm, Triona. I’ve no doubt of it. Now since you’re giving things away, I’d like another one of those kisses.…”
He didn’t have to say more, Triona wrapping her arms around his neck and blissfully obliging him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The faint rap came at the door an all too short two hours later, Triona snuggling closer to Ronan as a female servant’s voice called out, “I was sent by the cook, Lord. All is in readiness at the hall.”
“We will attend shortly,” he called back, turning his head to brush a kiss on Triona’s brow. But she raised her chin so he caught the tip of her nose instead, which made him chuckle. “I fear, beautiful lady, that it’s time to rise.”
“I’m staying right here.” Triona threw a slim leg over his thigh as if she could pin him down. To entice him further, she rubbed her toes up and down his hard calf, nestling against him even closer. “Supper will just have to go on without us.”
“Not this night,” he murmured, though his deep voice held regret. “My people need to see that all is well between us, Triona. These past five days have been hard on everyone, not just ourselves.”
She sighed, knowing he was making perfect sense but not wanting this wondrous time together to end.
“We have only to stay an hour or so, Triona,” he whispered into her ear as if reading her mind. “Everyone will understand if we slip away.” He slid his hand down the curve of her back and playfully squeezed her bottom. “They’ll understand that we have other things to do.”
She smiled, but she was still reluctant to leave him. At least until he tweaked her bottom—and not so gently!—making her gasp and spring from the bed.
“Ronan, I’ll have a bruise!”
“Then I’ll be sure to massage it for you,” he said wickedly, rising. Yet he didn’t get far, staring at her in so lusty a manner that she was certain he was reconsidering stepping even one foot from their room. But finally he turned away and went to his clothes chest, the decision clearly costing him for the many times he glanced at her as he pulled out fresh garments.
Triona, meanwhile, swept up her damp cloak and wrapped it snugly around herself, then headed for the door.
“Triona?”
She half turned, expecting his query. “My clothes are in the other room.”
“And they’ll be moved into this room come morning,” he s
aid, frowning. But Triona had expected that, too, so she threw him a teasing smile.
“Aye, then you can watch me both dress and undress.” As his frown eased just as she had hoped, Triona was struck by a sudden idea that filled her with nervous excitement. “You don’t have to wait for me, Ronan. I’ll meet you at the feasting-hall.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he began. “I want us to walk in together.”
“Please, Ronan. I’ve a surprise for you, but if you insist on waiting, you’ll spoil it.”
She lingered only long enough for him to nod reluctantly, then she hurried from the room, her heart racing. Her idea was so silly, really, but she wanted to please him. And she’d thought of the perfect way, spurred on by the memory of how he’d looked at her that first night she’d entered his hall…
Conn’s tail thunking heavily upon the floor drew Triona’s attention to the hearth; she took a moment to go over and give her wolfhound a pat.
“Poor dog, I don’t blame you for hiding back here out of the fray,” she murmured, stroking his ears. “But all’s well now, I promise. So get up with you and go see Ronan. Mayhap he’ll let you accompany him to the hall for a bit of supper. Go on. Find Ronan.”
As Conn heaved himself to his feet and obliged her, Triona went to her former room, feeling guilty that she’d been paying so little heed to her pets of late. Her poor Ferdiad least of all.
Deciding that she would ask Ronan if they might take her beautiful falcon on a hunt tomorrow, Triona turned the key in the lock, the room lit softly with oil lamps as she entered. She was pleased to see Caitlin nestled in bed, Maeve curled into a sleek white ball on the young woman’s lap and purring contentedly.
“I see you’ve found a friend,” Triona said as she closed the door behind her, Caitlin throwing her a welcoming smile that was truly dazzling.
“Three friends, Triona. You, Aud, Maeve…” The young woman paused, a becoming pink blush suffusing her cheeks. “Well, four friends.”
Lords of Ireland II Page 144
