Chapter 20
The ruins of the stone castle overlooking the bay stood as a stark reminder of battles lost and won on these very shores between those who lived here and those who had invaded their lands so long ago.
A shiver traipsed across Brighit’s skin at the sight of the long boat, barely peeking above the rocks leading down to the sea.
The stories of the Norsemen and the terror they brought was not often spoken of.
Many of those who now ruled as Eire’s kings had the blood of the invaders mixed within their royal blood. A past best left undisturbed.
“Are ye cold? Ye’ve hardly said a word.” Darragh’s concern, evident in both his tone and his expression, sparked her defenses.
“I am merely tired of the travel. It’s exhausting. Ye said so yerself just last night.”
Last night there had been much talk of this and that, and what would happen when they finally returned home.
Feeling the pressure of Seigine’s nearness, Brighit had subtly turned the conversation to him.
But her husband was a wise man and he seemed to know almost instinctively that the man had no leadership qualities.
“Then we will get ye some rest before ye meet the ri túath. He is a good friend of mine.”
“I look forward to meeting him. Will ye relay yer father’s message as well?”
“That is the reason we are here.” Darragh sighed. “And I will listen closely for his response since I have my own concerns.”
Brighit parted her lips to allow her shaky breath to remain unnoticed.
If she did not succeed in convincing her husband and father-in-law to support Seigine against the Dubhshláine, her part in the murder of Cathair would be revealed and her father and Darragh would bear the brunt of her punishment. All would be lost.
He must have noticed the change in her expression because he took her hand, kissing it before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “A ghráidh, I pray ye are refreshed after ye rest. I miss my feisty wife.”
“I will do my best.”
They were met at the entrance by two well-armed warriors who recognized Darragh immediately. Setting aside their imposing demeanor, they each embraced him in turn, one even lifting him off the ground.
“Ye have been missed.” The blond man ruffled Darragh’s hair like he was a boy, and Brighit could only look on in astonishment.
“They have known me since I was a boy,” Darragh explained, his face reddening.
Still dumbfounded, she nodded open-mouthed while the second man did the same.
“Please, no more. Ye’ll have my wife wondering about her husband’s ferocity when he can allow himself to be pawed by other warriors.”
“Yer wife?” The blond’s eyes widened in amazement, then he slapped his friend’s back with quite a bit of enthusiasm. “’Tis her. The she-warrior from Clan Cruadhlaoch?”
Brighit’s jaw dropped at the title.
“Devin.” Darragh’s irritated tone did little to discourage the man. “Please. My wife is named Brighit.”
“She is indeed.” The man got his exuberance under control and, with great solemnity, swept into a low bow before taking Brighit’s hands to his lips. “I am honored to meet ye, fair lady.”
Flabbergasted, she had no words, and when the second man offered the same greeting, she was beside herself. “Darragh?”
“Is Francis about?”
“’Tis still daylight. Ye know he is practicing with his men.” Devin glanced at his friend as if astonished. “What say ye, Liam? Is the young Darragh losing his mind so soon?”
Her husband rolled his eyes. “Gentlemen, if ye could but show us to a quiet place, I wish to sort out the problems ye’ve started for me.”
They both laughed. Devin called over a stable boy to see to their horse while Liam led the way within the new part of the castle, leading them up the stairs that followed along the length of the great hall to, he informed them, the recently added second floor.
The new building was attached to the only part of the castle that remained intact.
Liam was at least a foot taller than Darragh and his body was huge. His léine was made up of wolf skins, the head still attached on one as if the massive beast were sitting on his shoulder.
“This is where Francis’s dearest guests reside and where I presume he would also like ye to stay with yer lovely wife.”
Winking, the man closed the door behind him.
“What is amiss here?” Brighit felt totally confused by this attention. “What are they calling me… that name for? Who are these people to ye?”
Darragh put a hand to his mouth in a useless attempt at covering his laugh. Brighit swung her arms around, beside herself, and said, “I need an explanation, Darragh.”
“Come. Sit with me.” He settled on the edge of a bed very much like his own at home. Brighit sat beside him, an arm’s length away. He seemed surprised at her irritation, but she was in no mood to explain what should be very plain in her opinion.
Darragh heaved a great sigh. “I visited often when I was young. My father would leave me with Francis so I could study my letters. When I came here as a lad, I would talk about ye. I admit it. Especially when we traveled here right from yer túath.”
“And ye called me a ‘she-warrior’?”
“No.” Once again, he could barely contain his laugh, but at least he had the decency to desist when he caught her cold stare. “They were the ones who came up with the name. No harm or insult was intended.”
Inside, Brighit fumed. Her eyebrows felt like they were touching her hairline in her irritation. “I can see the harm. ’Tis an insulting term.”
“Never. They had great respect for ye and Aednat. Sean is a man who demands respect, make no doubt about that. Those men would never insult anyone he cares for and everyone knows how much he cares for both of ye.”
The memories of training with the older Aednat caused a tug in her heart.
She had been so proud of their accomplishments.
When Aednat shifted her focus from warfare to healing, she had nonetheless continued to encourage Brighit.
She wished she could talk to her cousin now, find out how she should handle this terrible predicament.
“Forgiveness?” Darragh’s hand covered her own.
“I suppose.” Brighit could not remain angry when it was more a childish prank than an intended insult. “They seem to care greatly for ye.”
He smiled. “They are as close as brothers to me. Terrence is their younger brother.”
It was easy to imagine Terrence here, and those men certainly did put her in mind of him, but the mere thought of Darragh’s friend filled her with guilt.
What a situation she’d put him in. Terrence always kept a discreet distance from Darragh now.
There had been no time to convince him of her husband’s innocence regarding her bruises.
“I think I will lie down if ye have no need of me immediately.”
Darragh pulled back the dark green blanket covering over the bed. “I would prefer ye rest now. I will see if Francis is about and return shortly to see ye to the feast they will no doubt host for our arrival.”
After she lay down, he covered her with the blanket and then kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “Sleep well, a ghráidh.”
The large, cold hand on her cheek startled her awake. Darkness surrounded her, though the heavy coverings managed to keep her toasty warm.
“Brighit?” A light came up behind Darragh, casting a strange glow over his face. “Are ye not well?”
An older man had followed Darragh into the room with a candle, which he set in the iron holder along the wall before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.
Her body ached, but she forced herself to deny it. “I am over tired. Please help me to wash and dress. Has someone brought up our belongings?”
“Here is everything.” Darragh put down their sack and began pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl. “I came in twice to check on ye, but ye slept so heavy I did not wish to wake ye. Are ye certain ye are up to joining the others?”
“The others?” She splashed the water on her face, dipping the cloth along her throat and neck. When he lifted her heavy hair to aid her, she was caught by the passion in his gaze and her breath quickened.
“They are below and wish to meet ye.”
Standing now, she gave him her back so that he could help her unlace her gown. His tantalizingly gentle touch soothed her, and when his lips touched the sensitive area of her neck, she leaned against him ready for more.
“D’ye mind if they wait a bit longer?” Brighit slipped the gown down her arms and pushed it to the floor.
Darragh’s quiet gasp was followed by his hands tenderly exploring her breasts. “If ye do not mind.”
Excitement ignited low in her belly. “Then ye shall see to me properly? A feather bed once again beneath us?”
Pressing her back onto the mattress, he covered her, his kisses dropping along her warmed flesh like dew on a rose’s petal. “Mmm, I am entranced by the sight of ye in candlelight. Yer body calls to me.”
Brighit was overwhelmed by this sensual attack and submitted to his touch for her own pleasure. A short while later, she lay alongside his body, both of them still damp from their exertions.
“I do not believe I am ready to share ye with others.”
Brighit laughed. “I fear ’twill be ye who becomes lost to me. I know no one here.”
“My men have arrived. Ye know them.”
She gave him a withering look.
“These warriors are friends to ye, like family, but I do not know them. They may not be as cordial as ye and my father are.”
Darragh beamed. “Ye place me in the same standing as yer father?”
Her eyes widened. “Certainly. Why would I not? Ye are as brave and honorable.”
With a start, Brighit realized he’d believed—still—that she thought less of him. “I am well pleased with ye as my husband, Darragh.”