Warrior of Fire

by Michelle Willingham

  He kissed her as if she was his reason for being alive. In his embrace, she felt whole and beloved. He laid her back, helping her undress until she lay naked before him. He removed his own clothing and ran his hands over her flesh. ‘You are beautiful to me, Carice.’

  She smiled and brought him down to her. His body was warm, the hardness of his muscles pressing against her softness. For a moment, he simply lay on top of her, skin to skin. Then he adjusted his weight, moving his hands along the sides of her body, caressing her curves. His callused palms evoked a strong reaction, and though she was already anticipating his body inside hers, she recognised his desire to slow down, to savour.

  He nipped at her earlobe, and a shudder passed over her. But when his mouth lowered to her throat, she jolted at the sensitive place, biting back a shriek.

  ‘That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for, chérie.’ But there was amusement in his voice.

  She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. ‘I was ticklish, Raine. When you put your mouth on my neck, I couldn’t stand it.’

  He started to move in, and she put both hands on her neck. ‘If you dare, I’ll scream so loudly, my father and his men will descend upon us.’

  Instead, he moved his hands to cup her breasts. ‘I don’t mind if you scream loudly, Carice. So long as I bring you pleasure.’

  Her laughter died away, and she gasped as he stroked her nipples. He bent and suckled one, pressing her back against the furs. Her fingers dug into his hair, and she arched beneath him. While he worked her with his mouth, he brought both hands down her hips, parting her legs. She surrendered, and he worshipped at the altar of her body, before his fingers touched her intimately.

  She could hardly catch her breath when he found her damp opening and slid two fingers inside. ‘Raine.’ His name was a prayer upon her lips, and he began invading and withdrawing with his fingers. All the while, he continued tormenting her nipple with his tongue, but when he began to circle his thumb against her hooded flesh, she raked her fingers against his spine.

  ‘Come inside me,’ she pleaded. ‘I need you.’

  In answer, he put only the head of his shaft at her opening. She tried to bring him inside, but he held her down. ‘Not yet.’

  He turned his attention to her other breast, and she grew even wetter, seeking a full joining with the man she loved.

  He found a rhythm that she delighted in, pressing and circling her intimate flesh, until she felt herself beginning to tremble. Her body ached to be filled, and she dug her hands into his shoulders. She was quaking, straining to meet him, when suddenly a white hot shuddering release unfurled within her. The wave of ecstasy pulsed through her, and when he slid deep inside, she bit back her cry of relief.

  He moved slowly, caressing her with his shaft, while she tried to urge him faster. Her entire body was pliant against him, and when he began to thrust, she squeezed him from within.

  ‘Do that again,’ he commanded, as he entered and withdrew. She locked her leg around his waist, meeting him as he plunged deep.

  As he continued to drive his body within hers, she heard him murmur words of love in the Norman tongue, words that praised her beauty.

  And when he hastened his thrusts, reaching for his own release, she tightened around him, startled when her body bucked and another ripple of pleasure caught her in its grasp.

  ‘I love you, Raine,’ she cried out, as he thrust hard and pulsed against her, his body finding its own fulfilment.

  He leaned down to kiss her, his lips softened and swollen from their lovemaking. With their bodies joined, he held her close. ‘Know that I will always love you, Carice.’

  She fell asleep with his body against hers, feeling blessed beyond words.

  * * *

  They returned to Carrickmeath, but Carice made him promise to wait until the summer before they wed. Although Raine had wanted to wed her the moment they reached her father’s estate, she had insisted on delaying the marriage for a few months while they attempted to find out the fate of his sisters.

  Raine had sent over a dozen men to search England, but there was no sign of them. He’d wanted to travel there himself, but he was wary of leaving Carice. Although her health had continued to improve with each day, he was still afraid of her declining again.

  Lady Aoife and Strongbow had agreed to intervene with King Henry on his behalf. They had made it possible for him to end his service as a soldier, and Raine had come to live at Carrickmeath with Carice. In time, King Henry hardly seemed to care what became of him. With the Irish Sea to separate them, the man was disinterested in stirring up conflict among the Irish chiefs—especially when he wanted to rule over them all.

  Even so, it was the longest three months of his life. For Carice had also demanded celibacy until their wedding night.

  Although Raine guessed that she wanted to be strong enough to fully enjoy their wedding celebration, it didn’t make it any easier. The one consolation was that each day she grew stronger. Now, he could no longer see her ribs, and her body held a softness with curves that tempted him beyond reason.

  He stood outside, anxious for the wedding to be finished so he could be with his wife. The summer sunlight shone over them, and it took an effort not to pace.

  Her brother Killian came to stand beside him. ‘You do realise,’ he remarked, ‘that if you hurt my sister in any way, I will peel the skin from your body.’

  ‘She’s not really your sister.’ He grinned at the man who had come to be a good friend over the past few months. As the High King’s son, Killian had taken over the province of Ossoria, along with his new wife, Lady Taryn.

  ‘Not by blood, perhaps. But in all the ways that count.’ Killian fingered the knife at his side. ‘You had best make her happy, or I will make you wish you’d never been born.’

  ‘That I will. But I do not know why she insisted on waiting so long for our wedding.’

  ‘Like as not, she wanted it to be summer. Carice despises the winter.’ Killian shrugged and accompanied him down the stone stairs. Below, in the inner bailey, several wagons had arrived, bearing gifts from the MacEgans and from the Connelly clan. ‘She also commissioned a special wedding present for you and went to a lot of trouble.’ With that, he withdrew a blindfold. ‘I’m going to put this on you, and when Carice arrives, she will reveal her gift.’

  The secrecy intrigued him, but Raine saw no reason to protest. Once the blindfold was in place, Killian took him by the arm and guided him towards the stone chapel. ‘Walk forward six paces,’ the man ordered, and Raine counted as he did. He felt the warmth of the summer sunlight transforming into shadows against his skin as he approached the doorway. Then he heard the voice of Lady Taryn as they drew closer.

  Feminine hands touched his face, and when the blindfold was removed, he saw his bride standing before him. Carice’s long brown hair hung below her waist in waving curls. She stood just outside the chapel, and the sun illuminated her hair like a halo. Her sky blue eyes held love and anticipation. ‘Are you ready, Raine?’

  ‘I was ready to wed you three months ago,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Not for the wedding.’ She smiled at him. ‘Something else. I know I should wait to give you your gift until after we are wed. But I find I cannot stand it any longer.’ Carice clutched her hands together with excitement, and her smile held such joy, it echoed the feelings in his heart.

  ‘Go on, then.’ He let her take him by the hand, and they entered the stone chapel. Inside, it was darker, and when his eyes adjusted, he saw his sisters standing inside. Elise and Nicole both ran forward, and he caught them in his arms, unable to believe they were alive.

  ‘Raine, I’ve missed you so much—’

  ‘I cannot believe you’re here—’

  ‘—I’m so glad to see you.’

  Their voices jumbled together, and he
couldn’t stop from crushing them close, so thankful they were here. ‘You found them.’

  ‘With Queen Isabel’s help,’ she agreed. ‘Her father is Norman, living near the border of Wales. He learned where they were and arranged for them to travel to Carrickmeath. That was why I delayed our wedding.’ In her face, he saw the quiet joy. ‘I wanted them to be here for you, after all you endured. King Henry never harmed them—he only sent them far away.’

  Raine let go of his sisters briefly to lift Carice up, kissing her hard before he let her slide down. ‘I love you. You could not have given me a greater gift, Carice.’

  She sent him a gentle smile, touching his face. ‘Perhaps in the next year, you might give me a greater gift. Like a child.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’ He leaned in and kissed her neck, only to have her squeal again at the sensitive place. ‘Raine, stop! I cannot bear it.’ But her protests were mingled with laughter.

  He took her by the hand, and they gathered together among friends and family. They spoke their vows before the priest to be faithful to one another for the rest of their lives.

  But for Raine, even an eternity would never be enough.

  Epilogue

  Two years later

  They rode through the gates, and Carice held their son Guy before her in the saddle. Raine’s mood was quiet as they approached, for he had not set foot upon his father’s lands in many years. King Henry had granted the land to Richard de Clare and his wife Aoife, but now Richard was dead. Lady Aoife had offered Raine the chance to visit his family holdings, and she had hinted that they might one day govern them on her behalf.

  It should have been a blessing. Although Carice knew that her father would want their son to eventually become the chief of the Faoilin clan, she wanted Guy to know his Norman lineage as well.

  Raine hadn’t been eager to return to England. Carice knew that there were many ghosts who haunted him here, and the small estate held an air of neglect. But on the far side of the tower, a few fragile roses struggled to climb the stone walls.

  Several servants came forward, their eyes wide as a few recognised Raine.

  ‘Do you want a moment to walk around?’ Carice asked. ‘I could wait here with Guy.’

  ‘I would rather have both of you with me,’ he answered. He helped her down, and she balanced their son on her hip.

  ‘My lord.’ An older man hurried forward, bowing before them. His beard was grey and he was bald, but there was no mistaking the excitement in his demeanour. ‘We have waited so long for your return.’

  ‘Bertrand, it is good to see you as well,’ Raine answered. The older man led them up the stairs and inside the main gathering space. But the moment they entered the Hall, Carice saw a change come over her husband. He grew pensive and quiet. Instinctively, she reached for his hand.

  ‘My mother died here,’ he said quietly. ‘She took her own life in this place, after my father was killed by King Henry’s men.’

  Carice rested her forehead against his shoulder, trying to offer her own comfort. She let him spill out the details of their deaths, and when Guy began to fuss, she handed their son to Raine. The moment the boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, he calmed. The presence of their son seemed to bring a different peace to Raine.

  ‘They loved each other, didn’t they?’ She rubbed her son’s back, still remaining close to Raine. ‘The way I love you.’

  He turned to her. ‘I never understood, at the time, why she killed herself. Why she didn’t want to live for her children.’ He touched Guy’s baby curls and kissed the boy’s head. ‘And then they buried her on unconsecrated ground.’

  ‘Can you show me where?’

  He gave a nod, but before he could lead her outside the gates, Carice stopped near the climbing roses. She took her knife and cut part of the cane, digging up some of the roots. With the rose cutting in her hands, she followed him towards the woods. There, near the edge of the trees, was a bare space of earth without anything to mark the place, save a small oak sapling.

  Carice knelt by the grave and spoke a silent prayer for the woman who had given life to Raine. Then she planted the rose cutting within the earth. It would take root and grow, a living promise of beauty to the woman she had never met.

  In the meantime, Raine took their son towards a small brook that ran through the woods. He scooped up a handful of water in his palms and showed Guy how to do the same. Both of them walked back to the grave, letting the droplets spill over the planted rose.

  ‘My mother would have loved you, Carice,’ Raine said, when they stood beside the grave. ‘She simply wasn’t strong enough to live without my father.’

  ‘I don’t want to live without you, either,’ she said. ‘But however long we live, a part of us will always live on in our son. And in other children we may have.’ She brought his hand to her womb. Though it was early yet, she was certain that another child grew within her.

  The words had their intended effect, and Raine’s sadness transformed into wonder. ‘When?’

  ‘In the winter, I think,’ she answered. ‘But you will have to decide whether we stay here or return to Éireann. It is your choice.’

  He thought a moment and studied the grave. ‘There has been too much grief within this place. Before we go back to Carrickmeath, we ought to rebuild it and make it a place of better memories. Then, perhaps our son might wed Lady Aoife’s daughter and bring the lands back into our family.’

  ‘I agree.’ Carice took his hand and started to lead him back towards the tower. ‘And since Guy is eager to take a nap, we should let him rest within our chamber. Then we can start making better memories while he is asleep.’ She sent him a sensual smile and touched his chest. ‘If you will show me the way.’

  His green eyes grew heated at her suggestion, and he kissed her fingertips. ‘You are a very wise woman, my wife.’

  ‘I am, aren’t I?’ But, in answer to her teasing smile, he bent again to kiss her throat. Her screech of laughter broke through the darker memories, leaving room for new ones to fill their place.

  And when he led the way to their chamber, she was only too willing to follow.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from LORD LANSBURY’S CHRISTMAS WEDDING by Helen Dickson.

  Final Author Note

  The mysterious illness that Carice Faoilin suffered from is known by modern readers as celiac disease. It was present in Ireland, though medieval healers would not have known the cause. Thank you to Dr Katherine Roberts for the story suggestion and to Dana Rollins for your insights on the symptoms. You both have my deepest appreciation.

  I took a bit of literary licence by not fully describing the digestive results of celiac disease—let’s face it: diarrhoea isn’t exactly romantic—but her stomach pains, overall fatigue, and weakness would have been true to the illness.

  While symptoms can often remain dormant for years, they can also emerge at a time of great personal stress—such as an arranged marriage to the High King—making gluten intolerable. Carice’s stomach ailments were caused by eating bread and grains. The healer’s advice to eat only bread would have essentially caused her to weaken and die, for her digestive system would not have tolerated the gluten. She also could not have gained any nourishment from food, especially if she consumed bread at a meal. Eliminating it from her diet would have caused a complete recovery.

  And thus, she was able to live a long and fulfilling life with Raine de Garenne.

  Thank you for reading Warrior of Fire, and if you would like to read Killian and Taryn’s story, look for Warrior of Ice, book one in the Warriors of Ireland series.

  If you have time, please consider leaving a review online. You can find a complete list of my titles at www.michellewillingham.com.

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  Lord Lansbury's Christmas Wedding

  by Helen Dickson

  Chapter One

  1875

  A light rain had settled over the sea, mottling the surface of the choppy water into a dull blackish grey. Jane leaned against the railing of the steamship, letting her eyes skim over the vast expanse of water as it carried her closer to Dover. It was carrying her further away from the wild and mystical beauty and the heat of the Far East, of India and the countries around the Mediterranean, into a new phase of her life.

  Tears came to blur her vision when she thought of the circumstances that had brought her to this day, of the anguish that had beset her, almost drowning her in a sea of despair when her beloved father had died in Egypt two months earlier, leaving her bereft.

  This morning she had risen before dawn in Paris to catch the boat train to Calais, where she had boarded the ship. She hoped to arrive at her aunt’s London home with something akin to dignity, but her appearance was far from being at its best. The dark-blue bonnet and black woollen cloak served to protect her from the cold, damp wind even if it lent nothing to a stately grace.