Warriors in Winter

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘I assume you’ll be returning home, after the wedding?’ Bevan ventured. His veiled hint was quite clear.

  ‘I will, yes. Unless there is a reason to stay through the spring.’ Arturo’s eyes rested upon her, like a physical touch.

  Before her father could say anything more, Genevieve intervened. ‘This morn, I saw you teaching Brianna something. There was a knife, I believe?’

  ‘What reason would you have to train my daughter in the use of a weapon?’ Bevan demanded. Once again, she heard the disapproval in his voice.

  ‘I asked him to help me,’ she answered, but her father didn’t seem to hear her.

  ‘Don’t you believe that women should be able to defend themselves against an attacker?’ Arturo countered, facing her father with a challenge of his own.

  ‘And what would you know of weaponry?’ Her father was staring at the Spaniard as if he were itching for a fight.

  To her dismay, Arturo dismounted and unsheathed his sword. ‘Care to spar, Irishman? Unless you’ve forgotten how...?’

  ‘What are they doing?’ Brianna whispered to Genevieve while Bevan got down from his own stallion. ‘They’re not going to fight, are they?’

  Her question was cut off when her father withdrew his own weapon and attacked swiftly. Arturo deftly parried the blows, watching every move as if learning his enemy’s methods. The snow slowed their footwork, but both held their balance.

  ‘Stop them,’ Brianna protested, starting to intervene, but Genevieve pulled her back.

  ‘No. Let them fight.’

  ‘But why? There’s no purpose for it at all.’ She was aghast when her father swung hard at Arturo’s head, only to be deflected and pushed back the other way.

  ‘Your father is testing his abilities. They won’t hurt each other.’

  But the fight continued longer than she wanted, until at last, Arturo attacked. He sliced his sword hard, putting all his strength into the fight until Bevan’s weapon blocked his next blow. The two men pressed hard against each other, trying to force the other to yield. A bead of sweat rolled down Arturo’s face, but he refused to back down.

  In her father’s eyes, she saw a subtle shift, until at last, he admitted, ‘I see that you do know how to fight.’

  Arturo sent him a slight nod. ‘I guard those under my protection. And I demand that my men train until they can defend our holdings.’

  The two men stepped back at the same time, both sheathing their weapons. Genevieve went over to her husband, while Brianna wondered what would happen now. Arturo eyed her for a moment, and then walked over to the church yard, where there was a well. He retrieved water and splashed handfuls upon his face, dampening his hair. The afternoon light haloed his dark hair, and when he stared back at her, Brianna felt the hunger of his gaze. It moved over her face and down her body with unveiled interest.

  Without a word, without touching her at all, he made her feel vulnerable. Were she to share his bed, she had no doubt that he would spend endless time touching her, until she surrendered to pleasure.

  She closed her eyes against the confusing feelings, forcing herself to lock them away.

  ‘Bevan and I want to ride toward the outer perimeter of Rionallís,’ Genevieve explained. ‘You may wish to take Lord de Manzano inside the tower and lead him up to the top. The view would let him see the landscape better.’

  ‘Will Father Angus mind?’ Brianna asked. The young priest had only recently taken over the church after the older priest had died.

  ‘I should imagine not. So long as you do not disturb the treasures within the round tower.’ The older woman sent her a warm conspiratorial smile, as if her matchmaking plans had come to fruition.

  Startled, Brianna turned to her father. But he, too, seemed in agreement with his wife. ‘We’ll return within the hour. You should eat without us,’ Bevan said, lifting his wife back on to her horse.

  From the way his hands lingered upon her waist and the look shared between them, Brianna suspected that they intended to do more than talk. Pushing that errant thought away, she told Arturo, ‘Come with me, and I’ll show you the inside.’

  He held the rope ladder for her as she climbed up to the door, balancing the bundle of food between her arms. When they were inside, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. Sunlight entered through the open top of the tower, and she began climbing the endless stairs toward the single bell at the top. Arturo followed, but before they reached the third landing, he reached for her hand.

  ‘A moment, if you will.’

  Brianna paused to catch her breath, setting down the food while Lord de Manzano stood on a stair below her. She waited for him to speak, and he said, ‘I wouldn’t have harmed your father during that fight.’

  ‘That’s what Genevieve said.’ She sat down on the stair with him just below her. ‘It’s why they left us alone. You gained his approval.’ It was a strange thought to imagine, for she’d never believed Bevan would permit it.

  Somehow, Lord de Manzano had earned respect from the older warrior, though her husband, Murtagh, never had. Was it truly that Bevan believed sword fighting was more important than affection? Or was it the desire to keep his daughter protected?

  ‘I like your father,’ Arturo said. ‘He seems like a good man. And he’s a strong fighter, despite his age.’

  ‘He is.’ A smile curved over her face in the darkness.

  Arturo took her hands and drew her to stand up. When he moved closer, it brought him closer to her face. At the nearness of him, Brianna started to let go of his hands.

  ‘Stay?’ he asked quietly. Moving closer, she felt his cheek come and rest against hers. ‘If things were different, I would take a kiss from you now.’ His words were warm against her face, and every part of her body seemed to respond to him. ‘I would hold you close and taste your sweet mouth, belleza. But I suspect that it would only feed the hunger I feel for you, instead of sating it.’

  ‘You know it’s too soon for me,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know. But there is no harm in speaking words.’

  He was wrong. His words were invisible weapons, slicing through her defences, and reawakening her. The darkness enfolded them, and in her mind, she struggled against the memory of her last kiss. Murtagh had been affectionate, and she’d enjoyed making love with him. So much, that she understood what Lord de Manzano was offering—the freedom to take him as her lover, to fill up the emptiness inside her broken heart.

  Desperately, she struggled to find the willpower that was slipping away. Arturo’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her close until her hands rested upon his chest.

  ‘It’s your choice, belleza. If you want me to kiss you, you’ll have to make the first move.’

  Chapter Three

  Brianna hesitated, and with every second that passed between them, she sensed the caged sensuality of him. Slowly, her hands moved up his chest, to the powerful shoulders, and then to rest upon his face. She drew her fingers over his lips and was rewarded with a light kiss upon her skin.

  Inside, she was quaking. She wanted him, despite all the reasons it was a mistake. What he offered was only temporary. He was going to leave and nothing between them could last. He’d offered her an escape from the loneliness. But what lay broken inside her couldn’t be healed by one man’s touch.

  ‘Not yet,’ she whispered, holding his face between her hands.

  The words hung between them in a promise she didn’t know if she could keep. Or if she should even try. She let go of him and picked up the bundle, continuing up the winding spiral stairs, until at last they reached the top. The wind was stronger here, and her hair whipped against her face. Arturo came up beside her, his hands resting upon the stone edge. He didn’t look at her, but she saw the tension in his posture.

  When he saw the landscape before him, there was an invisible shift. He stared at the mottled green and snowy-white hills that shifted into flatland, down to a grey sea. The faint smile upon his lips stole her breath away.
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  When he turned back, his dark eyes held hers captive. ‘It’s beautiful. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.’

  She nodded, but couldn’t answer his smile. His earlier words resonated within her: You’ll have to make the first move.

  Confusion spiralled inside her, wondering why he’d conjured up these lost feelings. It had been so easy to ignore the advances of other men of her clan. They were like brothers to her, kind men, but she couldn’t imagine being with one of them.

  Not like Arturo de Manzano.

  It must be because he had also lost someone. There was a bond between them, of facing the death of a loved one. The only difference was that he’d managed to lock away his grief and live again. The way she longed to.

  She heard herself telling him of the different tribes that lived here. Of the Ó Phelans who had been an enemy when her father was young, and of how the MacEgans had grown stronger against the Norman forces.

  ‘They married their enemies,’ she said. ‘My father wed Genevieve, by order of King Henry.’

  ‘You speak of her as if she’s not your mother.’

  Brianna shook her head. ‘No, she isn’t. My mother stole me away from my father when I was a young child. I didn’t understand what happened at the time, but she made choices she regretted. In the end, she took her own life, from her sadness.’

  An unexpected flare of hurt gripped her heart. ‘I was alone for a time. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong, that my mother would rather die than be with me.’

  Arturo came up beside her, resting an arm over her shoulder. ‘You were just a child.’

  ‘I know. And Genevieve took me in, becoming my mother in all but blood.’ She accepted comfort from his presence, leaning her head against him.

  ‘You were fortunate to have your family,’ he said. ‘And they care a great deal for you.’ He reached for the bundle of food and opened it. She tore off a piece of bread and they sat down to eat, while she told him about the other places nearby.

  ‘Where is the Norse settlement?’ he asked.

  The question jolted her from her mood and she pointed out the area near the woodlands. ‘It lies a half-day’s journey from Laochre. At one time, my great-grandfather’s sister wed one of them, and there was peace between us. Even when the Normans attacked, the Lochlannach kept to themselves.’

  She faced him, keeping her voice steady. ‘But during the last few years, it’s been difficult. There have been raids on several occasions.’

  ‘Without success?’

  She nodded. ‘King Patrick’s men kept them out. Last year, they attacked the homes on the outskirts.’ A chill came over her, and she gripped her shoulders. ‘Murtagh was...not a good fighter. He was the son of a miller, and though he was strong, he’d never had any training.’

  Fixing her gaze away from him, she refused to let the dark feelings intrude. With her throat aching, she added, ‘One of the men stood apart from the others. Murtagh mistakenly thought he was the leader, and he went to challenge him while I stayed behind.’

  In spite of her best efforts, a tear broke free. ‘I begged him to stop, but he charged the raider. The man’s spear caught him in the stomach, and it took hours for my husband to die.’ A harshness coated her voice. ‘I went to kill the Lochlannach, but the soldiers from Laochre held me back. The king drove them away, and they haven’t returned since.

  ‘A few days later, they sent gold as a body price for my husband’s death.’ Bitterness swelled within her, and she shook her head in disgust. ‘As if that would bring him back.’

  ‘Killing the Norseman won’t bring Murtagh back, either.’ His hand rested upon the small of her back, warming her.

  ‘Would you have waited at home, if an enemy had slain your wife?’ she questioned. ‘Or would you have avenged her?’

  His silence was the answer she wanted to hear. Reaching for the flask of wine, she took a drink and passed it to him. His mouth rested upon the place where she’d sipped, and once again, she found herself watching him.

  The wind rushed through the narrow space again, moving against the bells. She shivered at the cold and stood up. Arturo removed his own cloak and set it across her shoulders.

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘It gives me a reason to hold a beautiful woman,’ he teased, drawing the cloak over her arms. He let his hands linger upon her, and the spicy scent of his skin quickened her blood. For a time, neither spoke, and she drew comfort from the heat of his body.

  If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was Murtagh standing behind her. That it was his arms upon her shoulders and not a stranger’s. The nearness of him, and the instinct to touch, was dragging her away from reality.

  When Brianna turned around, Arturo moved his hands on either side of her. In his sienna eyes, she saw the cloaked desire. He spoke to her in Spanish, words she didn’t understand. But his voice drew her in, blurring the lines she’d drawn around her life.

  His hands rested upon the stone, waiting for her decision. Her body already knew the answer, though her mind was crying out for her to stop.

  The endless days alone had weighed down upon her, making her no longer feel desirable to any man. But to Arturo, none of it mattered. He’d suffered the same losses she had, and he understood what she didn’t want to admit—that she craved human touch.

  Without speaking a word, she went into his arms, resting her cheek against his broad chest. His mouth drifted against her hair in a light kiss. ‘I know, cariño.’

  Did he? Did he truly know how difficult it was to reach out to another, feeling as if the ghost of her husband were watching?

  ‘He wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this. Admit it to yourself.’

  She closed her eyes, knowing he spoke the truth. As she tried to pull away from his arms, he held her trapped for a moment. ‘Thank you for showing me this land of yours.’

  She nodded, and he released her. As he bent to help her put away the food, he stopped to ask, ‘Were you curious?’

  ‘About what?’ She tied up the bundle and held it in one hand.

  ‘What it would have been like to kiss a man who wasn’t your husband?’

  She faltered, but then steadied herself, recognising it as a teasing invitation. ‘No.’

  ‘Liar. I can see how you’re sacrificing yourself to his memory,’ he said softly. ‘Not allowing yourself to feel any happiness at all. You wear clothes without colour, and you don’t smile. You might as well take a step off the edge of this tower, for you seem intent upon letting the rest of your life slip away.’

  Anger rushed through her, that he would dare accuse her of this. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’ The bundle slipped from her hands, and the flask of wine spilled upon the stones.

  ‘You won’t let anyone know you any more. You lock yourself away, don’t you? Because you feel guilty that you’re alive. And he isn’t.’

  ‘Yes, damn you.’ The anger raged from a place so deep inside, she struggled to control it. And when he dared to pity her, to rest a hand upon her cheek, Brianna was determined to prove him wrong.

  She lifted her mouth to his, kissing him hard. Did he think she was a hollow shell with no feelings of her own? The salt of her tears mingled against their lips, but Arturo wasn’t about to let her use him to prove a point. Instead, he softened the kiss, capturing her mouth. Sensual and firm, he commanded the kiss, forcing away her broken memories until she was consumed by him. She let herself fall under his spell, opening to this stranger and finding the parts of her that needed him.

  Her arms came around him, and she slid her tongue against his mouth, feeling the rush of heat when he answered her call. He took his time, savouring her mouth, his hands moving up her spine and down to her body. With the softest nudge, he drew her against the heated ridge of his arousal, and she couldn’t stop the shudder of answering desire.

  In her mind, she imagined them naked, and what it would be like to be touched by him. To lift her leg o
ver his hip and feel the sweet rush of his body entering hers. To forget the pain of the past and escape all of it for a single night that belonged only to him.

  Arturo broke away, his dark eyes feasting upon her. She couldn’t catch her breath, and she sensed that the barest touch from him would send her over the edge, into the release she wanted so badly.

  Her lips were bruised, swollen from his kiss. And she hated herself for feeling this way.

  * * *

  Arturo didn’t press Brianna any further, for both of them had the answers they’d sought. He’d sensed that she was a passionate, fierce woman, and he’d not been disappointed. But he wouldn’t push her. There was still hurt and anger inside her, from her husband’s death. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her, not when she was grieving.

  He said nothing as they descended from the round tower. When they climbed down the rope ladder, her parents had returned from their own ride. Bevan took note of his daughter’s flushed face and swollen lips. While he made no remark, Arturo knew that there was a silent warning to tread carefully.

  ‘You’ll dine at Laochre this night, won’t you?’ Genevieve asked. ‘The feast is in honour of Liam and Adriana.’

  ‘Of course.’ When he bent to help Brianna on to her horse, this time, he lifted her up by the waist. He let his hands rest there for a single moment, and her green eyes flared with caution. Second thoughts had already taken root within her, and he respected her wishes, turning back to his own horse.

  * * *

  Throughout the remainder of the day, Bevan and Genevieve guided him throughout their lands, showing them their estate at Rionallís.

  ‘Do all of your brothers live nearby?’ he asked Bevan. ‘It seems that you’ve claimed a great deal of land in this region.’

  ‘Three of my brothers live nearby,’ Bevan agreed. ‘But Connor’s holdings lie further west. He often visits with his wife and children.’ He shielded his eyes against the late afternoon sun, watching over Genevieve and Brianna as they rode ahead.