The Warrior's Salvation (Warriors of Eriu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  “Mama!” Wee Jeoff bounded across the room, not at all concerned with how closely she was entwined with Jeoffrey, who seemed intent on keeping her close by the way his grip stayed firm around her waist. Wee Jeoff jumped up on their laps and threw his arms around her neck. She let out a laugh filled with true happiness for the first time in as long as she could remember. Somehow her family had all come together again and she was overcome with the joy of it all.

  When she looked over at Jeoffrey’s face, she saw the longing in his gaze as he took in every detail of his son…their son. How strange it must feel to meet a child and discover he was your own. Jeoffrey must have felt so many emotions at the moment, but she was pleased to see that his foremost emotion was clearly one of wonderment at his child and happiness with their newly blossoming relationship.

  Aye, they had known each other their entire lives and had been lovers for longer than she would ever admit out loud. A young lass of four and ten should not have been sneaking out to meet up with an older lad, but she had always been drawn to Jeoffrey. Even after so long as his lover, and a short time as his intended bride, it felt so fresh and new to be here with him now.

  She could not say what the future held for them, but she knew her love for him was as strong as ever. Once everyone had left the home, silence took over the room. Where would they go from here? Would Jeoffrey expect to wed with her right away, or would he remain guarded and wish to take it slow? She hoped for the former. She would desperately love to pick up right where they had left off and begin a life together, but she also knew that Jeoffrey’s emotional wounds needed to heal, just as her physical ones did. She was so very sore and tired. Being so near death drained one’s body of all energy. Though her heart was glad, her body was worn. Even though she was filled with so many questions, she knew she must rest before they could begin to rebuild all that had been destroyed.

  Chapter 6

  How had everything fallen into place so seamlessly in his life? He went from a lonely, bitter man to a man living with the woman he had always loved and their son. Though he was filled with utter contentment to have his relationship with Clarice again, the old fears of abandonment haunted him. If he let her into his heart completely only to lose her again…and now their son, he did not think he could survive it.

  It had been a sennight since she awoke from her fever and a slow routine had begun to form in their small home. Though Jeoffrey insisted she stay in bed as much as possible, her bruised face and ankles had fully healed, aside from a slight yellowish tinge under her skin, and her knees had scabbed over quite nicely without any further signs of infection. Her joints still ached when she walked too much and he always begged her to allow him to take care of her, but the stubborn woman refused.

  Every morning, she got out of bed and helped with small tasks around the house while Jeoffrey and Wee Jeoff saw to the tasks around the farm. It was late winter and the Imbolc festival to celebrate the arrival of spring was approaching. While he and his son milked the cattle, collected eggs from the chickens, collected wood and hunted small game, Clarice stayed warm indoors and prepared the meals, mended clothing, and worked on the loom to create new fabrics for garments. Soon she planned on making several batches of dye with the berries and other plants that would grow with the warmer weather. The snow had begun to melt and soon enough, his farm’s fruits and vegetables would be ready for market.

  It was a strange feeling to have a family to care for and yet, it also felt so natural. Slipping into family life with Clarice and Wee Jeoffrey had been no hard task as it turned out. He felt no more bitterness in his heart for their past, but he was not certain the fear of loss would ever go away. Every day when he came home from his daily chores with their son, he breathed a deep sigh of relief to see Clarice within the safe walls of his home, stirring a stew in the cauldron or working the loom with her beautiful brown waves of hair held back messily by a strip of linen. How the woman could make an old length of fabric and her worn borrowed dresses look so enticing, he would never understand. The lass was a sorceress and she had put him under her spell many years ago.

  At night, he and Clarice had been sharing the one bed while wee Jeoffrey slept in his new bed on the other side of the home. Both beds had dark blue linen curtains to provide privacy, but aside from some soft, teasing kisses and wandering hands, he and Clarice had not attempted to take their physical relationship further. The warmth of her body nestled into his every night was already a comfort he felt he did not deserve. After the way he had treated her the last time she attempted to make love to him, he could not blame her for keeping herself guarded at night. She was likely afraid of his rejection again and that thought gutted him. If she only knew how terribly he wanted her. Not just wanted. He needed her. He needed to feel her body beneath his, writhing as he buried himself deep within her. He longed to fill her, to plant his seed and watch her belly grow with his child again. He wanted her as his forever, as his wife.

  And yet, he could not know if her reticence about love making was truly due to fear of rejection, or because she was not ready to give herself over to him fully. And while he would allow her to take as much time as she needed to be ready to bed him, he had never considered himself a patient man. Imbolc was a sennight away and he longed to marry her on that night, in front of their entire tuath. He wanted to claim her as his once and for all, after years of waiting. Several times the question had been on the tip of his tongue. He had asked her once to be his wife and then he had lost her. And while he fully forgave her, for indeed he knew the cruelty of his father and how serious his threats were, the fear of asking her again and being rejected had kept him from saying the words out loud.

  Something Clarice had mentioned kept eating away at his gut. She believed Gregory had left Ériu to flee Elim’s cruelty. If only she knew how truly dangerous Gregory had been even back when he had been at their camp. It had not been Elim who forced Gregory out. It had been Jeoffrey. Knowing now that she had ended up back in his clutched in Caledonii, Jeoffrey regretted not gutting the bastard for his lust for Clarice all those years ago. The man’s desire for Clarice went beyond anything she could even imagine, and Jeoffrey was loathe to tell her the truth of it. She had been through enough at Gregory’s hand and he vowed to move forward, away from dark pasts and focus on the future. Gregory was no longer a threat.

  His relationship with his son had only been growing stronger and stronger. They had a natural inclination toward one another, and Wee Jeoffrey was eager to have a bond with him and learn how to work on the farm. Jeoffrey had spent every day with the lad since he arrived, teaching him everything he knew about farming. He had even taken the lad with him to warrior training, but only to watch, and only for a short while, as the cold weather was still a bit too much for the wee lad’s body to sustain over-long.

  The only father Wee Jeoffrey had ever known was Harrold and while he was unfortunately no longer in this world, both Jeoffrey and Clarice were hesitant to confess to the lad who his true sire was just yet. Mayhap he needed more time to bond with Jeoffrey before they told him the truth. Bonding with the lad was as easy as breathing. He was an easy-going, intelligent child with a wondrous sense of humor and understanding of the world around him. His first three years of life had not been easy ones and Jeoffrey vowed to do all he could to provide a loving, stable home for the lad to grow up in, including as many siblings as the goddess Brigid would allow.

  In fact, Imbolc was the festival to celebrate Brigid, the goddess of fertility and it was said that to conceive a child on that day was considered a gift from the gods and a sign of many blessings to come. Jeoffrey had a plan. He hoped to marry Clarice at the festival and make love to her many times over. Not only would he fully enjoy finally feeling her body against his after all these years, but if he had Brigid’s favor, they would create a new life.

  That thought left Jeoffrey in a dreamlike haze as he went about his chores for the day. He seemed to be floating on a cloud since the day Clarice
awoke from her fever. It had not escaped his notice that Clarice had not yet told him that she loved him, even though he had told her right away. Though she had just been coming out of her fever when he said it, he knew she had heard him, for that was the moment she first responded to his words, squeezing his hand in hers. He also knew she did love him, but something was holding her back. Fear? He was not certain.

  “Och, my back is aching from chopping and carrying all this wood,” Jeoffrey groaned as he used his strong thigh muscles to lift up from his squat position and lift a large pile of firewood into his arms to carry back to the house.

  “Och, I hurt too,” Wee Jeoffrey imitated him as he rubbed his lower back and carried his small stack of twigs next to Jeoffrey. Jeoffrey could not help but release an amused grunt. His son was an eager lad.

  “I think we have had a hard day of work. Your mama is likely ready for us to return for the evening meal. Let us head back and join her.”

  “Aye, I am tired!” Wee Jeoffrey agreed as he ran full speed toward the house, dropping a small branch onto the ground as he flew by. Jeoffrey laughed loudly. If that was how the lad ran when he was tired, Wee Jeoffrey would certainly win any test of endurance when fully rested.

  “Mama! We are home!” Wee Jeoff hollered as he opened the door and skillfully placed his carefully collected twigs into the hearth fire, causing it to hiss and pop.

  The fire created a warm glow that bounced off the white washed walls and illuminated the entire house. The smell of wood burning always relaxed Jeoffrey, for it was the scent of home. Clarice smiled and put down the knife she was using to chop up cabbage leaves and smiled as Wee Jeoff plowed into her legs with a fierce hug, almost toppling her over. She laughed and looked up at Jeoffrey with pure elation and love in her eyes. He knew instinctively that there was more than just love for her son shining in those blue depths. She had not yet said the words to him, but he knew she loved him still.

  “Are you strong laddies ready for your evening meal?” she asked playfully as she walked up to Jeoffrey and hesitated to touch his arm. His heart faltered in his chest. He wanted her touch, her open affection. She still feared his rejection and that thought shamed him, again reminding him of the deep wounds rejection can create.

  Putting a hand on her hip, he pulled her near and kissed her soundly on the forehead. “Aye, we are famished. It smells amazing, Clarice.” Her eyes lit with happiness. He was not sure if it was his compliment that had pleased her so, or his tenderness for her, but he was glad to see her smile. She had been in such ill condition when she arrived, and he had been a cruel arse. He had a long way to go to prove to her that he had forgiven their past and that he sought forgiveness for his treatment of her when she was already so vulnerable.

  The night went by like a pleasant dream, one Jeoffrey had had all too many times in his life, where Clarice was his wife and they were surrounded by their brood of children. Aye, she was not yet his wife, but he would remedy that soon, he hoped. He couldn’t let go of that small protective guard he had wrapped tightly around his heart all those years ago. It was too much a part of him to simply vanish, but with each day that passed, the fear of losing her again slowly diminished. Watching Wee Jeoffrey as he practiced his new skills with a wooden sword made his heart swell with pride. Farming may have always been Jeoffrey’s dream, but deep within himself, he had always been and would always be a warrior.

  After the final battle between his father and the new High King Tuathal, fighting had left a bitter taste in his mouth. At the time, he had been content to leave it all behind. All he wanted was this small plot of land here in this peaceful village in Alba. He hadn’t needed a woman to make him happy and the urge to sire a child had been forced deep into the back of his heart where he had hoped to suppress it as long as necessary to keep the pain of loneliness at bay. But now everything had changed and watching his son wield a sword, even just a wooden one, made pride burst inside his chest. It reminded him not of the glory, but of the reason to fight. He had given it all up because he no longer had a cause to fight for. Now, he had everything to fight for.

  The meal had been delicious. It was not just the game he had hunted with his son that made the stew so savory, or the vegetables from his own garden. It was entirely because it had been made with love by Clarice and that he finally had a family to share it with. Alastar would laugh in his face and call him a besotted fool if he were made privy to all the thoughts of love running through his mind. Mayhap he was a fool, but he was ready for the next step of his life if it involved Clarice and his son.

  The winter nights were growing longer as spring was on the horizon. More daylight meant more time to get chores done, but it also meant he had to wait longer to finally convince Wee Jeoffrey that it was time for bed. The lad could not seem to shut his body down until night had fully fallen and he had been drained of every bit of energy. Finally, after several stories about faeries and one particular favorite of his about the legendary Sisters of Danu, Jeoffrey had finally managed to get the lad to fall into a deep slumber.

  “I never thought he would finally sleep,” Jeoffrey laughed as he sat next to Clarice, who was warming her toes by the fire now in no more than her linen nightdress. Long ago, she had removed the linen tie around her head, allowing her glorious mass of brown waves to tumble about her shoulders. Her skin seemed to glow in the light of the fire and even the smallest gesture, such as wiggling her toes closer to the heat of the flames, made his heart beat in overtime. She seemed so at ease in his home, as if she knew she belonged there forever, and he hoped she always felt that way.

  “Aye,” she laughed and looked up at him with a wide smile. “The lad is hard to get down for the night, but once he does, he stays down all night. The change from winter to spring has always kept him up later. So much daylight is hard to resist for a lad.” She wiggled her toes again and he couldn’t help but plop down on a cushion next to her and drag her legs onto his lap.

  She gasped at his sudden move but then smiled warmly when he began to rub her tired feet with his large callused hand. She groaned and tilted her head back. “Och, Jeoffrey, that feels amazing. But it should be me rubbing your feet, should it not?” Her eyes were closed as she leaned back on her arms and her full red lips parted as she breathed deeply in her relaxation. The way her arms held up her weight and the way she tilted her head made her pert breasts press against the thin linen of her nightdress. He could see the outline of her taut nipples through the fabric as her back arched up slightly.

  By the gods, she had no idea the effect she had on him, which made her only that much more enticing in her innocence. Knowing he was still the only man to have ever shared her bed made his heart expand in his chest. Such a beautiful, kind-hearted woman deserved love. She had been through far too much in her one and twenty years of life. He wanted to tell her that there was more than one part of him that she could rub, but it would be brutish to say such a thing when they had not yet lain together and the last time she tried, he had foolishly hurt her spirit. Nay, she deserved to be wooed like the devoted woman she was, not taken like the whore he once claimed her to be.

  “Mayhap you can rub my feet later, but I’m more interested in helping the mother of my child relax after a hard day.”

  His words must have registered somewhere deep within Clarice, for she jerked upward, placed a hand on her chest, and shook her head when she saw the gleam in Jeoffrey’s eyes. A tear began to trickle down her cheek and she sat up to wipe it away. “I have dreamed of us three being together again for so many years. May I confess something?” she whispered and took his free hand as his other continued to knead the soft flesh of her sore feet.

  He swallowed hard and felt anxiety rush through his veins at her words. What could she possibly have to confess? Would it ruin the delicate thread of happiness they had begun to weave? He needed to know. “Aye?” He could not bring himself to say more than that.

  “You accused me of hearing that you were here in Alba and seek
ing you out to pin Jeoffrey on you when you believed him to be Harrold’s child—”

  “Och, Clarice. I was such an arse. I am not worthy of your forgiveness for the awful things I said to you, but—”

  She shook her head and held up a hand to stop his speech. “Nay. You were right…partially. Harrold had heard from the other warriors over in Caledonii that you had slain your father, ending the cursed reign of Elim Mac Conrach. They said you fled to Alba. Everyone said it. He told me what he heard and we had discussed venturing out to find you. We knew you couldn’t have settled too far from the coast and I knew you always wanted to be a farmer. I had Wee Jeoffrey and thought you deserved to know your son. But before we could ever decide on a plan, I found Harrold dead and then Gregory started coming over to harass us, forcing me to marry him or be tried for murder. At that point, I knew we had to flee. I knew not where, nor did it matter. By that point, thoughts of ever finding you had left my mind. All that mattered was escaping Gregory’s threats and starting a life alone with Wee Jeoff.”

  She breathed deeply and squeezed his knee as he listened intently. “When I finally saw the sparkling fires of this village in the distance, I was frozen to the bone and scared out of my mind that my child would starve to death or worse…become the next meal of a starving animal in the woods.”

  Jeoffrey felt her shiver next to him and he pulled her in closer, placing her on his lap and wrapping his arms around her tightly to stave off her sudden chill. She was trembling in his arms, and all he wanted was to comfort and protect her from her demons. “Why are you telling me this now, Clarice?”

  “Because…because I want nay lies between us. I did tell you before I did not know you were back in Alba. That was a lie. I said that because I could not bear you believing that I was plotting to leave Harrold for you or pretend Jeoffrey was your child. It was too hard to explain clearly at the moment, so I lied. But I did know you were in Alba, somewhere. I feel like it was the gods who brought me back to you that day. When Harrold died, along with him went my dream of ever finding you again. I knew I could never navigate the land alone. I can’t have you believe for one moment that Harrold and I were lovers, or that Jeoffrey isn’t your son, or…or…” She stopped speaking and covered her face with her hands.