Chapter 12 #2
Seigine belched and put his food aside. “I believe they intentionally sought him out to kill him.”
A gasp drew Darragh’s attention, but he couldn’t be certain who it had come from. A glance around the fire revealed little. “How so?”
“A particularly vile death. Would ye not agree?”
Darragh nodded. The man’s body had been attacked with a fierce blade, intending to do harm. Blood had covered the man’s clothing.
“The murderer should be scorched before hanging,” Seigine continued. A particularly vile death as well. “I considered who would seek to kill him and I was reminded of the men who came recently to our clan.”
“Men?”
“Warriors from Clan Dubhshláine. Their ri túaithe is an old man. Good for nothing. He was not among them.”
“Yer grandmother’s clan? It sounded to me as if Cathair was on good terms with them. Did the men come uninvited?”
Seigine shook his head. “My brother welcomed them, but not everyone in our clan was pleased with the idea of joining. The notion had come about because of an unprovoked attack on our women fall last.”
“An attack?”
“When the men were away. The women had no defense against them.” He glanced at Brighit. “Not every woman can defend herself against an enemy.”
“I did not know of any attack.” Darragh’s concern was genuine. They were near enough that word should have reached them. He searched his slightly befuddled mind but found no memory of an attack on the women of Clan MacCochlain.
Seigine shrugged, throwing his heavy cloak over his shoulders. He stretched back in a comfortable position and finished his drink before he began his story.
“It took place when many clans were called to a great gathering.” Seigine snorted a laugh. “We were not invited, so instead our clan traveled west where the hunting was better.
“We traveled with our women and set up a camp to see us through the hunt. Our warriors were gone two days, mayhap three. We had found a great herd that we tracked until we felled our catch. Excited with our blessing, we returned to our camp with much celebration in our hearts.
“In our absence, the camp had been attacked, and our women had been ravaged.” He emptied his horn again and held it for Iain to refill it. “A few vicious warriors. Above the law.”
“No one is above the law.”
Seigine sipped his ale, peering at Darragh over the rim, before speaking again. “Some believe Clan Dubhshláine’s offer, first made less than a month after that attack, came at an overly opportune time.”
“Ye believe they had something to do with the attack?”
The man shrugged. “My brother did not believe so and that is all that matters.”
“Such treachery is unheard of.”
The barking laugh that followed seemed full of condescension.
“My friend,” Seigine said, “treachery is everywhere. Let us set aside this serious talk. We need to celebrate,” Seigine announced, then raised his horn toward Brighit.
Darragh would swear she had touched not a drop. She appeared to be sulking in the shadows, her guard at her side. So be it. “Certainly, and ye should join our camp tonight.”
Seigine nodded his agreement.
With the decision to combine the two camps, Darragh saw no reason not to send Terrence and the rest to help move the other warriors’ camp. He wanted the opportunity to see to Brighit himself. Mayhap alone, she would tell him what she had refused to share earlier.
“My hope is that ye will sleep with me this night.” Darragh spoke quietly without looking directly at her. Though they stood at arm’s length from each other, the gap between them felt far wider than ever.
“Of course. I am yer wife.” The lack of hesitation was promising.
“And ye can tell me what ye may not choose to say in front of others.” He held his breath, wishing for some sign from her.
When he turned to her, he again saw the innocent lass who’d so enjoyed his kisses.
How she must hate her youthful appearance.
Darragh moved closer to take her into his arms, her scent arousing him more than he cared to admit.
Roses. He cursed himself for his lustful thoughts, but it didn’t prevent him from reaching for her.
Her lips were more demanding than he’d expected—they parted with little urging and he accepted the invitation.
Or was his besotted mind, now laced with strong ale, playing tricks on him?
Struggling to keep his need for her in check, he focused on the signs of her enjoyment—her quickening breath and the way her small hand gripped the tunic where it covered his chest.
Gliding his hands along her curves, he stopped to cup a breast she pressed into his palm.
Her nipple tightened. With a start, he remembered her just like this.
No fear. No pushing him away. And he was reassured that her disinterest was the lie.
She had wanted him on their wedding night, just as she wanted him now.
His spirits soared and he pulled her close, needing to feel her against him just like this.
He glanced around and realized this was not the best place for such a private moment. The men would return soon.
Reluctantly releasing her, he searched her face. Her dark eyes revealed her own arousal. “I will find a quiet place for us.”
She nodded, as if so overwhelmed with her own need she was unable to speak and his pulse quickened.
The heavy air around them crackled with anticipation, the thunder in the distance like a promise of what was to come.
“Darragh!” Terrence called from atop his mount, two other men close behind him. “They’ve found something that looks like blood.”
Darragh shook his head to clear it, then answered brusquely, “Here?”
“They’ve asked if ye could come to take a look.”
Brighit tensed beside him, her face a mask of terror, and he was reminded that she was still hiding something from him. Despite her brave front, mayhap she was shaken by all this talk of the murdered man.
“I will be back anon.” He halted his instinct to kiss her on the lips, instead opting for her cheek. “Will ye be fine alone?”
He smiled at the way she pulled back, looking very near to outraged. Before she could start in on him, he withdrew his own dagger from his side and placed its hilt in her hand. “In case there’s any trouble.”
Brighit’s fierce appearance softened into open adoration and his throat tightened. That was the look he would prefer to see on his wife.
“I will be back. Keep the fire burning.” He followed behind the other men, already looking forward to returning to his lover’s arms. If given the right persuasion, she would trust him—he felt certain of it.