Chapter 2
“Did ye hear that?” Darragh’s eyes scanned the water of the lough, easily finding the ripples marring the lough’s flat surface. He lowered his voice and quirked a brow. “Someone’s gotten here afore us.”
His companions grumbled behind him like they’d grumbled when he’d offered their help with the work Sean needed done. The promise of a refreshing dip had made the hard work of rebuilding one side of the ring fort go much easier. His own disappointment was as keen.
“Mayhap they’ll not mind our joining them.
” It was Terrence who spoke. He usually spoke without thinking and Darragh decided against pointing out the small size of the lough, the number in their group, and the fact that they were not well known here.
Instead, he signaled them to wait and moved closer.
Once alongside the water, Darragh noticed the gown and slippers laid out on the boulder.
His heart skipped a beat. A lass. He dropped to a squat and turned to his men, pressing his finger to his lips and then pointing at the garments.
They remained huddled close together, intent on him.
When they caught his message, their eager nods encouraged him and they exchanged goofy smiles.
Mayhap they would get a glimpse of a comely lass.
The green color of the material seemed vaguely familiar, but it could not hold his attention. His eyes were on the lough. The brightness of the lass’s chemise would be unmistakable against the darkness of the lough floor if she glided past them.
Darragh fingered the gown, a fine material and still warm from her body. He wetted his lips, exhaling a slow breath as anticipation coursed through his veins, but then he heard his father’s voice.
This is childishness.
Darragh should not wait here in hiding to watch her. He should lead his men away, set a good example, and above all not encourage foolish behavior.
“Is it a lass?”
Darragh turned a scowl on Terrence, signaled the other men to back up, and jerked his finger back to his lips.
Their eager faces decided it. He needed to leave.
His eyes found the gown again and his stomach sunk all the way to the soles of his feet.
He knew where he’d seen it before. On his betrothed. It was Brighit’s.
With narrowed eyes, he scanned the banks and the woods around them. She’d come with no protection at all to a place far enough from the village that no one would hear her if she screamed for help. She could easily be discovered by undesirables waiting to catch her unawares.
His face heated.
Undesirables worse than him and his friends?
He stood to face Terrence. “Return to the village. I will be there anon.”
They did not question his command, but Terrence’s skeptical glance warmed his cheeks even more. The man clearly thought the worst of his intentions. As soon as the others were gone, Darragh strode toward the bush, the gown clasped in his hand.
When Brighit broke the surface, she dragged in air as quickly as her lungs were able. He tamped down a rush of concern for her. It was obvious she’d heard their approach and hidden from them. Her choice to do so under water deserved no sympathy.
“What d’ye here, Brighit?” Darragh stood tall over her where she trembled in the water.
“I do not see the men yer father insisted ye take with ye. Just. This. Morning.” He turned about, even opening his arms, pretending to look for them.
“Where have they gone off to? Surely they should be whipped for such disobedience.”
Her wet shift and long brown hair were plastered against her skin. She looked so innocent and vulnerable. The thought of what could have happened to her cooled any sympathy for her condition. “Did ye leave with no one to protect ye? Ye are a foolish lass.”
Her eyes flashed and before he could stop her, she was climbing out of the lough.
“I do not need to be guarded! My father is overprotective.”
He sucked in a breath, backing away as if he’d been struck. Her brazen move left him speechless and fighting, without success, to not take in every inch of her unabashedly displayed body. A fine body it was with long, shapely legs, and a narrow waist, no wider than the span of both of his hands.
“Wh-what are ye about now?” he asked, irritated with himself for revealing his own uncertainty, but she showed no indication she’d noticed it.
“I’m leaving. Isn’t that what ye’re suggesting? That I return to the village, where I will be well protected?”
When she stilled, his eyes widened in an effort to remain on her face, the angry slash of her brows and her wide, demanding gaze, and not the erect nipples atop her glorious, full breasts or the dark patch betwixt her thighs.
“Well?”
Her tone was demanding, and he struggled to focus on what she had asked. When he finally did, he tightened his jaw and narrowed his gaze right back at her.
“I’m not suggesting anything. Ye’ve no business being out here alone, Brighit, and well ye know it. ’Tis not the time to be sneaking off. There are dangerous men about that could easily take advantage of an unprotected lass.”
Brighit shoved past him, ripping her gown from his loose grasp, leaving the scent of ever greens and honeysuckle in her wake.
“Ye know nothing about it, Lord Darragh.”
She’d taken to using the title for the sole purpose of irritating him ever since her family’s visit to Alba where her uncle lived. They’d been visited by Norman knights, friends of her parents. The deference paid to them as landed warriors was a stark contrast to their own system of nobility.
She continued, “Ye’ve not been here long.”
When she faced him, he gave up the fight.
The air in his lungs expelled as he finally gave in to the urge to let his gaze travel along each enticing curve.
He took a step toward her, then halted when Brighit’s eyes flashed, in surprise or fear, he couldn’t be certain which.
She dragged the gown over her head and then hugged herself, covering her breasts, admittedly the area his gaze had lingered the longest—they were exquisite breasts.
Her expression remained defiant even as her teeth began to chatter.
Darragh pulled the fur-lined brait from his shoulders to drape it around her and her sweet scent drifted to him, enticing him to linger near.
“Anyone could have come upon ye. Anyone.” He kept a firm tone despite the leanings of his imagination.
“But it was ye.” Irritation seethed from her.
She tilted her head to pull her long, dark hair out from beneath the covering.
The curve of her elegant neck beckoned him nearer still.
The only thing that stopped him from lowering his lips to her soft flesh was the decision that this—her neck—was where his assault of her senses would begin on their wedding night.
“I’ll see ye to yer father now and tell him what ye’ve done.”
“Do not.” Her plea brought her hand up, just short of actually touching him. “I beg ye, Darragh.”
The quiet words hung between them. The first time his name had been uttered by her with no hint of derision or sarcasm since his clan’s arrival a week earlier.
He took a breath, ready to reply, but halted.
Her eyes were rounded a little too much.
Her brows raised that perfect amount. The lass was working her wiles on him, damn if she wasn’t.
He’d almost reassured her that he would stay silent as long as she would promise never to do it again.
And he would have been the worst of fools.
She would do it again. Brighit would always do as she pleased.
Only now, instead of being forthright, she was being sneaky.
Instead of verbally sparring, she was trying to charm him.
That was something the other lasses did, but hadn’t she shown him a thousand different ways that she was not like other lasses?
He paused before he gave her his reply. “As ye wish. I will not tell Sean.”
Her face immediately relaxed, and she dropped her gaze. He’d swear there was a hint of smile on her lips.
Darragh crossed his arms about his chest. “He is only yer father.”
Her gaze flew back to him and she narrowed her eyes.
“A father sees to a lass only until she is wed.” He smiled. “I am the one ye need to worry about.”
Her brows slashed down. “Ye have no say over me.”
“I will control everything about ye.”
Her eyes clouded in that thoughtful way she had.
So he continued, “I will decide yer punishments.”
“Not yet.” She spoke through gritted teeth, having dropped all attempts at coercion. “And not ever if I can help it.”
“There is no help for it, but I see ye’re still struggling with that fact. Whoever else we might have preferred, it is ye and I who have been betrothed. Even now they discuss when it will be seen to.”
“My father will not force me.”
“Is that the game ye’ve been playing at?
” Darragh shook his head, chiding her with his expression.
“Sean is beside himself with how best to handle ye. And last fall when he left ye with my clan? It was so ye could get accustomed to our ways and lose yer aversion to marrying, but instead ye snuck off alone to follow him to the Meic Murchadha—”
“I did not go as far as that.”
“Ye should go nowhere alone and unprotected.” Darragh’s anger was getting the best of him. He hesitated, struggling for control, but all his emotions were riding him hard.
“My father loves me. He does not wish to see me married to a brute of a man.”
A brute of a man? Hardly. “But yer behavior has not worked out as ye’d hoped. Ye’ve merely demonstrated ye need someone to look after ye now.”
“I do not!” Her nostrils flared. “And yer arrogance is intolerable.”
“Arrogance? So ye question my ability to protect ye?”
“And ye question my ability to protect myself.” She dropped her arms to press her chest out. Intended as a defiant gesture, it gave him a pleasant eyeful instead.
Her eyes clouded over again. “I’ve sparred with all the lads. I’ve proved myself a worthy opponent.”