Chapter 25
Darragh seethed inside at the look of appreciation Seigine now bestowed on his wife, but he averted his gaze.
“Ye have enemies, Tadhg?” Francis wiped his sleeve across his face.
Tadhg sighed. “Someone has been poaching my deer, which I find far less offensive than the poacher’s habit of also ripping open its guts and leaving it to waste.”
Francis paused, his food halfway to his mouth, and sat back. “Ripped across its belly? Like this?” He demonstrated the unusual cut.
“The same. Have ye had a similar experience?”
Someone shifted near the end of the table, but Darragh couldn’t be certain who it was.
“I have.” Francis looked straight ahead, raising his goblet to his mouth. “D'ye remember, Devin?”
“I do, Father.”
Darragh leaned forward to take in the strikingly ominous expressions of the Meachair, all three of them.
“A long time back now.” Devin continued. “After Liam had nearly had his head split open with a rock.”
Tisa gasped. “How terrible.”
Francis turned toward the other end of the table, and though Darragh couldn’t see his expression, the tightness of his body reminded him of an arrow about to be let lose.
“D’ye remember the time, Seigine? Ye were fostering with me.”
The man’s face was suffused with anger. “Are ye still claiming I’m the one who tried to hurt yer lad? Ye couldn’t prove it then and ye cannot prove it now.”
Liam sat on the far side of Seigine. “But I remembered, despite yer claim of innocence. ’Twas ye who hefted the boulder over me, barely missing my skull.”
Shaking his head, Seigine tried to make light of it. “We were children. I had no reason to want to cause ye harm.”
Francis continued with the same hard tone. “And at the time, we’d several animals that had been savaged and left for dead.”
“A hard winter, too, and with the extra mouths to feed…” Devin’s voice dropped off.
“A decision was made to quit the fostering and ye were returned to yer clan.” Francis faced front again, his lips flat against his teeth.
The people seated in front of them continued their conversations, eating and drinking, oblivious to the sudden tension at the head table.
Brighit swallowed loudly beside Darragh and he clasped her hand that rested on her lap. He offered her a smile of encouragement and removed his hand before giving her a gentle nod. She stood beside him, a tight smile on her face.
“If ye’ll excuse me, I need to check on my father’s arrival. I expect him anytime.”
“Of course, dear.” Tisa said. “Ye may check with the guards at the gate. Word may have come after we sat down to dinner.”
“Would the guard not have brought us the information?” Tadhg asked.
Darragh tensed as did Brighit. If she wasn’t able to leave the hall, there would be no opportunity for Seigine to speak to her. Their plan would be stalled.
Tisa shrugged. “He does not always deem it necessary.”
Tadhg’s expression of surprise was followed by a loudly exhaled breath, and Darragh felt certain he was about to defend his men.
“Father, allow my wife to see to whatever she needs to.” He widened his eyes, hoping to instill the slightest question in his father’s mind about her reasons for needing to leave.
Tadhg merely nodded, no doubt catching his meaning. “Certainly.”
Devin stood on cue as soon as Brighit disappeared into the entry hall. “Calum.”
A man turned toward him with a look of surprise before glancing around to be sure he was the Calum who’d been named.
“Calum.” Devin laughed and stepped away from the table, clasping the man’s arm in a tight grip. “Do not tell me ye do not remember me.”
The man smiled and nodded and those at the head table quickly lost interest.
“Did ye enjoy yer duck, Darragh?” Tisa asked, dabbing at her lips with a cloth.
“Certainly. My favorite.”
Tadhg turned his back to the others at the table. “And when ye return, we always eat well.”
Darragh smiled, answering absentmindedly while his eyes followed Seigine, who also left the table.
Stretching, he went toward the side table covered with pitchers of ale and mead.
Reaching toward a tall clay pitcher, he glanced around.
Darragh turned to his father, Seigine still in his sights as the man left by way of the entry hall.
“Is something amiss?” Tadhg asked, his stoic expression intact.
“What d'ye mean?”
He glanced at Francis. “Are we laying a trap for anyone in particular?”
“Indeed we are,” Darragh said.
Darragh stood, tipping his head toward Francis, who also stood. “And we’ll know soon enough if we were successful.”
Brighit had waited at the door until she saw Seigine leave the table. Her hand gripping the latch, she counted to five before opening the door leading outside.
“Brighit.” A sense of satisfaction flowed through her when Seigine called her name. In a flash, she forced her expression to collapse into a frown as she turned toward the man.
He glanced around to see no one was near. “Little one, ye surprised me.”
She swallowed. “I did as ye demanded. If ye are not given the kingship, ’twill be because of yer own foolishness and not for lack of trying on my part.”
The man stopped close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look into his face, his heated anger pouring off of him. “Ye insult me and yet I am well pleased by the attempt.”
When he touched her cheek, she cringed. His hand stilled.
“But that is not the game ye will play now, certainly. Not when I wish to show my appreciation for yer efforts.”
He moved forward, trapping her between the wall and his huge body. “We have other things to see to now.”
“I will not be yer whore.” She spat the words at him.
If this was the direction of his thoughts, it would be difficult to turn the conversation toward his brother.
She prayed Darragh and the others were within hearing of the man—his voice was so low, it was nearly a whisper.
When he pressed his hips against her, she tried to shove him away.
“Ho ho.” Seigine grabbed her hands, glanced behind him, and pushed her through the door into the outside. The pitch dark enveloped them as he dragged her into the shadow of the castle. She cried out in pain when he shoved her against the wall.
“I will see to this now.”
He pulled at the ties of his trews, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness. Brighit did the same, her ears straining to hear anything. They would never find them here. Nothing was going as planned.
“Stop this at—.” She cried out and his large hand covered her mouth, strangling her words.
Seigine’s eyes rounded, his face so close she could smell the sour ale on his breathe. “When I was so looking forward to ravaging ye? Will this be the way of it?”
She held his gaze, his meaty fingers squeezing her mouth tight. There was no chance of her getting him to talk like this. It took all her will power to shake her head knowing it would be a sign of her acquiescence. He beamed, stroking her cheek as if he were petting a cat.
He reached beneath his mantle and withdrew the serpent-headed miodóg, holding it up to her face. “This is the very weapon ye used. Shall I show it to yer lusty husband?”
“I know I did not kill yer brother.” Brighit blurted it out, hoping to redirect his thoughts. “I stabbed him only once. Ye murdered him in a rage.”
He smiled. “Ah, very good, little one. I told ye that ye intrigued me.”
She held her breath and prayed his arrogance would make him want to tell her the rest.
“Ye did disappoint me in not killing him. I had such high hopes, but when I went to check on him, he was coming to even then. He shook his head, searching for ye. So I took the knife out and shoved him down. I stabbed him until he stopped struggling against the inevitable.”
“And ye say this is the dagger that killed yer brother?” Tadhg stepped away from the building, his hands at his waist.
Seigine didn’t move, his widening eyes remaining on Brighit.
A panicked expression. “It is.” His voice louder now.
“And I certainly should have mentioned that I personally witnessed the brutal attack. I was unable to stop it, but when I came to my brother’s aid it was too late to save him and the murderer had ridden off. ”
“Unhand my wife.” The demand was delivered in a low, unyielding tone, Darragh’s voice as sharp as a shard of glass. “Immediately.”
“I cannot, my friend. She murdered my brother and she must face her punishment.”
It was Francis who broke out in applause, his slow, steady clap accelerating. “Well done, Seigine. Well done indeed.”
“Datan, ye misunderstand—”
When Seigine would have turned toward his one-time mentor, Francis took the opportunity to shove him face first against the stone wall to the side of Brighit, a knife to his back.
“Remove yerself,” he said to Brighit, jerking his head toward Darragh. “We’ve got the man we want.”
She collapsed in her husband’s welcoming arms while her knees trembled beneath her, threatening to give way.
He held her tight against him, supporting her. “Ye did very well.”
“It did not go as we had planned.” Her sobs were taking hold of her and she fought to steady her breathing.
“It did not,” Darragh chuckled, “but ye kept yer head.”
Devin secured Seigine’s hands behind his back with the length of rope he’d brought. Francis all but growled when he yanked the huge man away from the wall, dragging him toward the heavy wooden door, and turned back to Darragh. “Ye’ve a wise one there, lad.”
Darragh nodded over her head, where her face was buried against his chest, fighting back sobs.
A firm hand on her shoulder squeezed gently. “Well done, daughter,” Tadhg said.
The men spoke around her, but she couldn’t pay attention. She fumed at how afraid she’d been. How she wished she’d stood up to him. Dropping her hand, she felt for Darragh’s dagger, which she kept strapped to her waist.
“My dagger.” Brighit pulled her head up, looking around. Seigine was gone, led away by Francis and his sons. Only Darragh and Tadhg remained with her. “May I have my weapon back?”
Her husband handed it to her. “Do not tell me ye thought I wouldn’t realize the importance of ye having this.”
Brighit ducked her head, her hand rubbing the hilt. Though flashes of the serpent’s head dripping with blood went through her mind, she was determined to reclaim the weapon. It was a good dagger and had served its purpose. It had protected her.
“I will see ye within.” Tadhg spoke to Darragh before turning to her, kissing her gently on the top of the head and disappearing through the doors.
She took a deep, shaky breath, forcing a genuine smile for her husband.
“I shall be fine.”
“Are ye certain?” His eyes rounded with his concern, and his hand made a gentle sweep of her cheek as he pushed her hair back. “Any other lass would have trouble recovering… but ye are not any lass.”
“And glad I am that ye know it.” Sifting through the many thoughts, regrets, and hopes running around her mind, she closed her eyes to gather her wits before speaking. “I have been more unlike myself these past few weeks than ever before.”
“But I know who I married, and I would be greatly saddened if my feisty love were to never show her face again.” He moved closer, their foreheads almost touching. “Mayhap I believed ye might be too much for me at one time, but now I know without any doubt that I want nothing less than all of ye.”
His kiss was gentle, considerate, as if testing how she felt about everything.
She returned the kiss just as tentatively, his words having touched her deeply.
Never before had she been totally accepted.
Mayhap once, when she was young, her father had enjoyed her skill, but that had changed the moment she’d revealed her vulnerability.
Darragh had chosen to prepare her to confront the man who would take her down, even arming her with a weapon.
Brighit pulled her lips away, her gaze unable to meet his. “Darragh, I want ye to know how much I love ye.”
Finally looking at him, she saw a stillness on his face she hadn’t expected. Fear bit into her, but she did not regret her words. Even if he didn’t love her back, her love was enough for both of them.
The moisture gathering in his eyes caught her by surprise. Darragh cleared his throat, glancing at the castle behind them before returning her gaze.
“To be loved by a woman as passionate and loyal as ye is all I could have ever hoped for… especially since I love ye, too.”