Her Knight in Tarnished Armor: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kerrigan Byrne

  Aye, her heart had been broken when Kristina and her mother had died and never had truly mended…much like Niall though Triona had told her of his weeks spent in Ostmentown trying to drink away his rage and sorrow. Until last night when she had tripped over him where he lay upon the dock—

  “Did your father remarry?”

  Shocked out of her thoughts, Nora gave an involuntary shudder. “Aye, to Agnes. My father is a good man but mayhap his grief allowed him to be swayed by her. It was Agnes’s plan that her Norse cousin Sigurd wed Kristina for the alliance it would bring, but when she died…”

  Nora fell silent and lowered her head, finding it still so difficult to talk about her sister’s death. Yet Niall gently lifted her chin to face him.

  “You became the innocent lamb to take her place.”

  Nora nodded, Niall staring at her so intently now that she felt her face growing hot. Her breath coming faster. Her heart beating hard against her breast.

  How could he do that to her so easily? Ah, but even as she asked herself that question, Nora knew the answer.

  She had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her husband, Niall O’Byrne.

  “Say you forgive me, Nora,” came his husky voice to make her heart race even faster. “I never meant to frighten you or to do anything to hurt you.”

  “But you didn’t—” Niall’s finger pressed gently to Nora’s lips had silenced her, and she blinked at him in surprise.

  “Aye, I did. Denied you a wedding feast. Left you alone and wondering what had become of me. Tried to drown myself in drink like a damned fool though I swear, wife, I will never resort to that madness again. Will you forgive me?”

  His finger had fallen from her lips to caress her cheek, which made Nora feel as if she were melting inside. “Aye, Niall. I forgive you.”

  At once she felt some of the tension ease from his body though still, he held her so tightly.

  Still, he stared so earnestly into her eyes.

  “We’ll do our best from this moment forward to forget the past and mend our hearts together. I want you to be happy, Nora. For us to be happy and I vow to make it so.”

  He rose abruptly with her from the chair, lifting Nora as if she weighed nothing at all while she flung her arms around his neck.

  Her heart filled with hope, her spirits soaring, Nora already felt happier than she had ever imagined possible. As Niall strode with her to the door, she glanced around the candlelit room scented so sweetly with roses. “What of Maire? You said you were going to tell me about her.”

  “Aye, I did, and I’m grateful to know she’s happy and wed to the man she loves.” Niall shoved open the door with his shoulder and stepped outside, grinning now. “Begorra, wife, we’ve plenty of time to talk of my sister later.”

  Shivering at his husky emphasis on ‘later’, Nora said nothing more as Niall strode with her toward his dwelling-house.

  Aye, it would appear that she and Maire had much in common.

  Nora was happy, too, indescribably, and married to the man she loved!

  “So you say you saw a young woman running along the dock?”

  “Aye, Lord Knutson!”

  Sigurd squinted against the fiery setting sun and raised the Ostman’s chin higher with the razor sharp blade of his axe. A yellow pool suddenly at his feet, he cursed roundly to see that the trembling fool had wet himself. “What else do you remember, man?”

  “She stumbled, lord, and I heard her scream. God help me, I was so drunk I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it all! Yet I would swear she fell into the river…and then he dove in after her.”

  “He?”

  “A stranger…aye, if it’s the same man. Irish, not Ostman. Dark hair. Light eyes. He’s fairly lived at the tavern for weeks though no sight of him since last night. God help them, mayhap he and that poor woman both drowned—”

  “Jump.”

  Sweat dripping from his brow, the man stared at Sigurd in confusion. “Lord?”

  “Jump now or die!”

  The man took two steps backward on the dock and obliged him, launching himself into the River Liffey and carried downstream at once—while Sigurd’s violent oath rent the air.

  With that swift current, Nora would have been carried out to sea in moments…unless the man who had dove in after her had managed to catch her first.

  Catch her and swim with her to the riverbank somewhere to the east of where Sigurd stood now, the ramshackle tavern emptied of its bleary-eyed patrons so he could question each and every one of them.

  So he had done along the vast dock at every drinking house until he’d finally found someone who had seen a woman Sigurd believed deep in his bones had been his reluctant bride. By Odin, at last some news of her! He leveled his axe now and peered above the polished blade to the east while a couple of the drunken sots awaiting his questioning had actually begun to weep.

  “Silence!”

  As the weeping instantly stopped except for some pitiful hiccoughing, Sigurd focused once again upon the distant Irish Sea. At first light tomorrow his four hundred men would begin to search that span for any sign that Nora and her rescuer had dragged themselves from the river.

  His instincts screamed to him that she was still alive…and his instincts had never been wrong.

  He had only to find her and wed her…and then he vowed that Nora MacTorkil would forever rue the day she had fled from Sigurd Skullcrusher.

  10

  “What do you think, Nora O’Byrne? Shall we arise or stay abed?”

  Drawing her closer against him, Niall wasn’t surprised that his whisper drew no more than a sleepy sigh from Nora as he nuzzled the silky nape of her neck. After all, he’d kept her up for a good part of the night until exhaustion had overwhelmed both of them.

  He smiled to himself, breathing in the warm lavender scent of her skin.

  He hadn’t felt such peace in weeks. With Nora nestled in his arms, her sweetly rounded bottom flush against his hips, it was so easy to forget for a while everything that lay outside of this big bed.

  Their bed. Their home…and one day, that of their children, too. Mayhap they had already made a babe together, he and his bride, which made him press a fervent kiss beneath her ear. It was right and good that it be so, just as he’d accepted that it was right and good that Nora gaze at him with love shining in her eyes from the moment they had left Maire’s dwelling-house together.

  Triona had been right. Nora had opened her heart to him…and he had vowed to himself deep in the night to open his heart to her as well.

  If not love yet, he could not deny that he felt such an intense desire to cherish and protect her that the depths of such emotion had shaken him.

  For Nora to have come to him so bravely yesterday…not knowing what she would find and wanting nothing more than to offer him comfort, had bonded Niall to her more completely than he would have thought possible.

  In truth his memories of Caitlin were growing dim compared to Nora’s gentleness and tender heart, which made him press a kiss to the delicate shell of her ear.

  “Will you not wake, wife? Mayhap you need another way for me to rouse you.”

  Niall drew her closer, his shaft growing hard at once as she instinctively pushed her lush bottom against him—and he knew then that she was awake. She trembled, too, her flesh dimpling with goosebumps, and it wasn’t because he’d thrown off the blankets to the foot of the bed when he’d first awoke.

  He had wanted to gaze upon her, this woman whose lithe body was the very image of perfection, her tousled auburn hair so dark and lovely against the creaminess of her skin.

  Niall had always been a man partial to blondes, but now he thought of last night when she had straddled his hips and rode him, her beautiful breasts bobbing and her long hair cascading down her back. In the candlelight her lustrous blue eyes had mesmerized him, though she kept them closed now even as her dusky eyelashes fluttered.

  The air in the room seemed charged with anticipation, and Niall
saw too, that her breasts rose and fell faster with her breathing. He smiled and slid his hand along the lush curve of her hip, his lower body growing harder still.

  So hard that he could wait no longer as he entered her from behind, the tight warmth of her body making him suck in his breath.

  She felt so wet that he could not help nipping her shoulder even as his fingers slipped between her thighs to find the swollen nub hidden in her slick woman’s folds.

  Now she sucked in her breath, too, moving against him as he thrust inside her slowly, languorously…but not for long. When her fingers laced with his own to ply along with him the nub that pulsed now beneath his touch, he had never felt so aroused. He began to thrust harder as she bucked in his arms, but he held her fast, his restraint making her moan.

  Her unbridled movement made him groan, his body shaking now as he buried his face in her neck, her hair, and spurted his burning seed deep inside her with one last powerful thrust.

  “Nora…”

  As if from some faraway place she heard Niall moan her name, Nora blinded by the lightning flashing across her eyelids as her body suddenly went rigid.

  The fierce throbbing of his flesh propelled her to the very edge of a precipice until the circling pressure of his fingers made her shudder in ecstasy against him.

  “Oh God, Niall!”

  When she fluttered open her eyes moments later, Niall held her close, his breathing still hard at her neck although he managed a low husky laugh.

  “Woman…with mornings like this I won’t have any strength left to leave our bed.”

  Nora laughed softly, too, but in truth, she never wanted to leave their bed.

  To have Niall holding her with his arms so tight around her and his male flesh still deep inside her was a wonder unlike anything she’d known…or had ever hoped to know.

  Her heart felt so full to overflowing that she had no words with which to speak. Instead she nestled contentedly against him and delighted in the warmth of his breath fanning her ear.

  “You’re a temptress, Nora O’Byrne, did you know that? To nuzzle so against me…”

  His fervent kiss at her nape made her shiver, and she wondered with her face suddenly burning if more lovemaking lay in store. She found her answer at once when she felt him swell harder within her.

  She had astonished herself that she delighted so much in the pleasure they shared together, and she wondered, too, if Niall might have been surprised by her wild abandon. If so, he hadn’t seemed at all to mind—

  “Niall? Nora? Are you awake?”

  Triona’s voice calling to them from the adjoining room made Nora gasp in surprise while Niall grabbed for the blankets heaped at the foot of the bed. They had barely covered themselves before Triona shamelessly peeked her head inside the door, a radiant smile lighting her face.

  “Aye, now, isn’t that a fine sight! You’ll have to forgive me, but I had to see for myself that all was well and so it is…the two of you all snuggled together—”

  “Triona O’Byrne!” In mock anger, Niall balled up a down pillow and threw it across the room, though Triona dodged the missile and only laughed.

  “Dawn was hours ago! Time to rise, we’ve so much to do! Nora, the seamstresses are waiting to measure you even now for your new gowns and I want you to meet little Deirdre—oh no, Conn!”

  Nora shrieked as a gangly gray wolfhound bounded past Triona into the room and jumped into the middle of the bed, immediately straddling Niall to lick his face.

  As Niall began to laugh, stroking the shaggy beast affectionately, Nora was certain she was next for the friendly greeting as Conn plopped down between her and Niall. Only Triona’s shrill whistle made the huge dog jump from the bed and he was out the door again before Nora could even blink.

  “Well, now you’ve met my brave Conn the Hundred Fighter,” Triona said, grinning as she shrugged her shoulders. “There’s Maeve the Warrior-Queen, too—”

  “Her cat,” Niall interjected, shifting closer to Nora again. “All of her pets are named after Éire’s ancient heroes.”

  “And Ferdiad,” Triona added.

  Now Niall grinned at Nora, too. “Her falcon. Maeve’s Connaught champion and both friend and foe to the mighty warrior Cuchulain.”

  “Aye, and don’t forget Laeg!”

  “Her stallion named after Cuchulain’s stalwart charioteer. A magnificent beast.”

  “You ride a stallion?” Nora breathed in awe, realizing there was much she hadn’t learned yet about her amazing sister-in-law.

  “Aye, as often as I can…though Ronan isn’t too pleased about it now that I’m with child several months. Yet when else might I forego these silly gowns to wear trousers? I’ll have the seamstresses make you several pair…but nothing will get done until the two of you get out of bed!”

  With that Triona disappeared out the door, her lighthearted voice calling to them from the other room, “There’s food out here for you…toasted oat bread and honey and some freshly smoked salmon. Nora, I’ll see you soon at the sewing house!”

  Nora glanced at Niall, so astonished she didn’t know what to say though her stomach suddenly grumbled, while he threw back his head and laughed.

  “They’re searching the riverbank very near to us, I see them!”

  “Aye, Father Edmund, a sad business indeed.” Father Gilbert shook his bald head as he lingered over his midday meal of salted pork and boiled eggs. “Lord Knutson’s time is wasted, I fear. Magnus MacTorkil’s daughter Nora has surely drowned—ah, no sense in letting my food grow cold to discuss it further. Come away from the window and pour me more wine!”

  Savoring another mouthful, Father Gilbert wiped sticky egg yolk from his fat fingers with a linen cloth as the old priest shuffled forward to oblige him. Yet he sighed with exasperation when Father Edmund’s gnarled hands shook while refilling his polished silver cup.

  “My brother, what has stirred you so? Are you ill?”

  “Mayhap very soon more than ill,” Father Gilbert heard his brother priest mutter as if to himself, but then Father Edmund withdrew from the table and hastened back to the window. Father Gilbert merely shrugged and took a long draft of red wine, smacking his lips.

  If the commotion along the river had captured the old priest’s attention, what of it? Father Gilbert had to agree it was an uncommon thing to have hundreds of Norse warriors searching for a young woman whose recklessness and folly had surely cost the poor soul her life.

  He could not fathom why Lord Knutson believed Nora MacTorkil yet alive, but mayhap wounded pride was driving him to that conclusion. Either that or the startling news that some fool had attempted to rescue her and had dove into the River Liffey after her had given the jilted bridegroom false hope. Those strong currents were known to be deadly to even the strongest of swimmers…aye, it was an unpleasant business all the way around.

  With a hearty belch, Father Gilbert rose from the table and glanced with mounting exasperation at his brother priest who craned his scrawny neck out the window. If he was not mistaken, he would swear the old man was shaking from head to foot.

  “Come, Father Edmund, let us go into the sanctuary for much prayer is needed. Lord Sigurd Knutson may claim himself a Christian, but it’s clear he holds fast to his pagan beliefs as well, may God forgive him. I’ve never heard such blasphemous oaths to Odin as last night when he swore in Lord MacTorkil’s hall that he wouldn’t rest until he found his bride, drowned or alive!”

  Father Gilbert didn’t wait for his brother priest, who hadn’t turned from the window, but shrugged again and made his way to the doorway leading into the church.

  A pity that such a brilliantly sunny day would be spent looking for a bloated corpse. Aye, indeed, there was much to pray about—

  “What…?” Father Gilbert stopped in his tracks at the glitter of gold in the corner and something else. Something a sparkling blue…

  “Father Edmund, do you see that?” Father Gilbert heard the old man turn from the window, but
he had already knelt heavily on one knee to retrieve a gold filigree ring from the floor.

  A gold filigree ring with a blue sapphire that glittered in the sunlight spilling into the room as Father Gilbert felt his heart seem to stop.

  He knew this ring! He had seen it last summer at the deathbed of Kristina MacTorkil, when the dying young woman had given the ring to her twin sister, Nora. Yet how had it come to be in his living quarters?

  A terrible sinking feeling gripped him even as he turned slowly and met Father Edmund’s panicked eyes. The old priest’s face looked so deathly pale that Father Gilbert already had his answer.

  “She’s been here…Nora MacTorkil,” he breathed, incredulous. “She didn’t drown after all—”

  “Ah, God, we must flee before they get here!” Father Edmund broke in, wringing his hands. “We must flee!”

  Father Gilbert knew exactly who the stricken priest meant as cold fear suddenly gripped him. In the distance from the direction of the river he could hear raised men’s voices that told him dried footprints must have been found. Even worse, mayhap a telltale path of crushed weeds and grass led to the church as, dear God in heaven, one man’s familiar voice bellowed above the rest.

  Lord Knutson.

  Sigurd Skullcrusher.

  Crossing himself, Father Gilbert knew with dead certainty, too, that Father Edmund had a gripping tale to confess, but now was not the time nor place.

  Not if they both wanted to live another day and not find themselves hacked to pieces by an enraged Norseman’s axe or impaled upon a spear outside the church for all to see.

  “To the stable, Father Edmund, now!” Hastening as fast as his girth would allow him, his meal churning in his stomach, Father Gilbert fled with his brother priest into the church and down the aisle to the narthex.

  Their only hope lay in reaching Lord MacTorkil’s stronghold before Sigurd Knutson and his men caught up with them. They had one horse between them, thankfully a young swift animal…and only then did it dawn upon Father Gilbert what must have happened to the gelding that Father Edmund had said escaped from his stall two nights ago.