Chapter Thirteen #2
‘Because Fergus wouldn’t allow it. I was so afraid of him. But…after that time when he beat you so badly, I knew if I didn’t send you away, he would kill you one day,’ she answered. ‘I had to give you up, to save you.’
‘You sent me with your wedding ring, didn’t you? That was what you wanted me to give the earl.’
She nodded. ‘I wanted William to know who you were.’
‘I never showed it to him,’ Balor admitted.
‘Not until I left the ring behind, just before I returned to éireann.’ He’d been so angry with Orla for abandoning him, and yet, the ring was the only thing he’d had left of her.
Surrendering it had felt like letting go of the life he’d known.
After a slight pause, he asked, ‘Do you want to see Beaumont again?’
His mother closed her eyes, as if gathering her emotions. ‘I’ve made so many mistakes over the years because of fear. I am guilty of the sin of adultery and abandoning my marriage. Even if I came to England, William wouldn’t want me now.’
‘If you want to go, we will take you there,’ Balor offered. ‘And you can decide what to do after that.’
Orla seemed so broken, but she gave a weary nod. ‘So be it.’
* * *
Mairead stared outside the window in her chamber while the moonlight shone over the keep. Her father and brother had begun making plans for Liam’s coronation, which would be held within a few weeks, followed by her wedding to Balor.
She could hardly believe it. It was even stranger to realize that Balor was the son and heir of an earl. But she would have married him, even if he’d been nothing but a serf.
A faint knock caught her attention, and she pulled a warm brat to cover her linen shift. When she opened the door, Balor was standing there. ‘I needed to see you, Mairead.’
She smiled at him and opened the door wider. ‘Come here.’ After he was inside, she lowered the bar to give them privacy.
Silvery moonlight spilled across his handsome features. He drew her into his arms, and she held him close as she murmured, ‘I don’t know if I can wait to be married to you.’
‘Oh, we won’t be waiting, a mhuirnín,’ he said. ‘I came here with the intent of spending all hours of the night with my mouth upon your skin.’
His wicked words sent a rush of sensation through her. But she touched his face and asked the question that had been bothering her for so long. ‘Have you forgiven me, Balor? For what happened in the past…’ Her words broke off as she chose them carefully.
He captured her mouth, pulling her body close until his hardness rested against her softness. ‘The past doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going to spend every day of the rest of our lives loving you.’ He cupped her nape and spoke against her mouth. ‘Starting tonight, if you’re willing.’
His hand moved against her breast, gently stroking it through the delicate linen. Her body reacted instantly, rising against his touch as she went liquid between her legs.
In answer, Mairead let the brat slide from her shoulders. Then she loosened the ties of her shift and let it fall away until she stood naked before him. She needed him to lie with her this night, to drive away the shadows and remind her of the happiness yet to come.
Balor stripped away his leather armour and tunic, followed by his weapons and trews. And when he, too, was naked before her, she couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Hunger roared through her, along with the thankfulness that he was here with her now.
‘Do you remember the day I first rescued you?’ he asked as he drew her towards her bed. ‘The day I tried to take you away?’
‘Yes.’ Her words were breathless as he slid his hands over her breasts, caressing the nipples with his thumbs.
‘I didn’t want to give you back,’ he admitted. ‘I saw you once when we were children, and you waved at me. I never forgot that, and I think I always wanted you to be mine.’
‘I am yours now,’ she said softly. ‘And always will be.’
He drew his hands to her waist, then pulled her tightly against him. She loved the feeling of his hard body against her own.
‘I never imagined you would love someone like me.’ He caressed her spine, stealing another kiss.
She cupped his face and looked into his eyes. ‘How could I not? When you saw me as a woman and not a king’s daughter?’
A smile caught his mouth as he continued guiding her back towards the bed. He pressed her to sit and asked, ‘Do you know what a man must do when he’s with a king’s daughter?’
A sudden rise of nerves caught her, but she shook her head.
‘He has to kneel.’
And with that, he laid her back, pulling her legs to rest on his shoulders as he knelt at the foot of her bed.
His breath warmed her intimate flesh, and the anticipation made her body yearn for his touch. He kissed her inner thigh, and she bit her lip, trying to gather the shreds of her own control.
But when he used his tongue to worship her, tasting her flesh, she let out a shattering moan and arched against him.
Her fingers dug into her coverlet as he feasted, and never in her life had she felt so powerless…
and yet, he was doing this for her. With his mouth, he kissed her softly, sucking against the bundle of nerves while his wicked tongue invaded.
She went over the edge within moments, heat and wild sensation pulsing through her until she was hardly able to breathe. She cried out in gratitude as the release tore through her.
Then he kissed a path up her stomach as his erection came into contact between her thighs. She tried to reach for him, but he pinned her wrists above her head.
‘This is what I’ve been dreaming of since the first night I touched you.’ He leaned his weight against her, and she yearned to join their bodies together. His mouth covered one breast while he teased the other nipple, and she felt the slow burn of another release rising within her.
‘I’ve wanted to taste every part of you,’ he said, moving his mouth to the other breast.
‘So have I,’ she answered, gripping his hair. He suckled her nipples, his fingers sliding into her wetness. ‘I want to take you into my mouth.’ She imagined running her tongue over his thick length, savouring him.
‘Later,’ he promised, before he began a gentle thrusting rhythm with his fingers. He teased her with shallow strokes before his fingers slid in deep. But even as he pleasured her, she whispered the words he needed to hear.
‘You are the man I’ve been waiting for, all my life, Balor. And I want nothing more than to be at your side. I love you with everything I am. And everything I have yet to become.’
He groaned as she found his velvet length at last, caressing him with her palm and guiding him to her entrance. His face turned pained with ecstasy as she used her thumb to coat the essence of him against the blunt head.
‘I love you, Mairead.’ His words turned into a blend of Gaelic and Norman endearments. And when she squeezed him, he rewarded her by finding her slick opening and driving in deep. He found a rhythm, thrusting until she lost where he ended and she began.
God above, she loved the feeling of his body inside hers. But more than that, his gaze burned into hers, his blue eyes captivating her.
‘You’re mine,’ he said. And he slowed down, lifting her hips with one hand while he gently pressed against her stomach with the other.
The sensation intensified, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of his thrusts.
As he made love to her, she could only squeeze him from within, meeting his body with her own.
When the second wave of release broke over her, her body erupted against his. He seemed insatiable, his mouth everywhere, while his hands brought her such pleasure.
‘Your turn,’ she commanded. ‘Take me.’
And heaven help her, he obeyed. He lifted one of her legs, pressing it back to gain deeper access. Mairead watched him enter her body, and she could only hold him as he thrust hard, marking her as his own as he invaded and withdrew.
‘I’m going to marry you,’ she told him. ‘And you won’t ever be free of me.’
‘I don’t want to be,’ he admitted. He thrust within her, claiming her body as his own as she gave him everything she had. At last, his own release took him under, and he flooded her deep inside. Against her damp skin, she could feel his heartbeat pounding.
The aftershocks of their lovemaking still made her clench around him, and he rested above her with a sleepy smile, tracing slow circles over her spine.
‘Do you know, Alanna was right? She told me I would meet my future husband if I gazed through my May crown at dawn. And I did.’
‘I wasn’t the sort of husband you expected, was I?’ he said against her throat.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘You were far more than I ever dreamed of.’
* * *
The morning of his wedding, Balor awoke at dawn, feeling restless. Although he’d spent each day at Mairead’s side, it felt as if, at any moment, this gift would be taken from him. He could hardly believe that he’d won her heart and that she would become his wife this day.
During the past few weeks, Patrick had begun passing on his duties until Liam was crowned the new King of Laochre, only a day ago. The former king had also begun teaching Balor how to govern a large household.
The idea of looking after so many people intimidated him. It seemed impossible that he’d gone from a bastard son, unwanted by anyone, to becoming the heir of Beaumont.
Balor dressed in his wedding finery, the silk tunic trimmed with silver thread, and he wore darker trews. His cloak was woven of the finest wool, fastened with a golden brooch Mairead had given him.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and he went to open it. His mother stood there, and she offered a nervous smile. ‘You look very handsome, Balor.’
‘You look beautiful as well,’ he answered. It was true. She wore a gown the color of the sea, and the blue brought out the colour of her eyes. Orla had woven yellow gorse into her hair, and she ventured a smile at him as she murmured her thanks.
Their relationship had been strained, and he was trying to forgive her. She came to visit often, though she was helping Kenneth assume his duties as the new chieftain of Dunmalus.
‘There is…someone I’ve been wanting to introduce to you.’ She stepped aside, and then an older man stepped through the doorway.
Balor found himself staring at the man who had watched over him during all the years he’d trained—Lord Beaumont.
‘This is your father,’ she said softly. ‘William Fleming de Beaumont.’
The earl offered a hesitant smile. His hair held hints of silver amid the dark color, and Balor found himself studying the man’s features. They shared the same nose and mouth and were the same height.
Balor hadn’t truly noticed their resemblance in the past, since the earl had only watched his foster sons from a distance. But now there was no denying that Lord Beaumont was his true father.
‘I am…humbled to be here for your wedding,’ William said. ‘I wish I could have been there for all the years I missed.’ He extended his hand, and Balor gripped it. Even when he relaxed his hand, his father didn’t let go.
‘You were there as my foster father,’ Balor said. ‘Those years mattered a great deal.’ He glanced at his mother, who was smiling through her tears. He only wished Orla had sent him there far sooner.
‘You were always the strongest fighter of all the boys,’ William said. ‘And my favourite to watch. I wonder if a part of me guessed that you were my son.’ At last, he released Balor’s arm and he asked, ‘Will you bring your royal bride home to Beaumont?’
‘I will. But she will want to visit her family at éireann often.’
‘Of course.’ William reached for his wife’s hand. ‘Just as I know Orla will want to visit Kenneth.’ There was affection and forgiveness in his eyes, as if he’d set aside the lost years and was focused on rebuilding their future together.
Balor walked with his parents down the stairs, as they continued outside to where the horses waited.
He mounted the stallion that had been a gift from King Patrick.
Orla and William followed as he rode towards the coast. The crowd of guests lined a pathway to the sea, and each person carried a sprig of yellow gorse, Mairead’s favourite flower.
When he reached the shore, Balor dismounted and waited beside the priest. Isabel was already seated, and King Liam and Queen Adriana waited beside her, along with their children.
Balor smiled at the sight of Marcas. The boy beamed at him, and he proudly wore the leather bracers Balor had given him, to protect his arms while practicing archery. Liam had agreed to let them foster Marcas at Beaumont, and they would travel back to England together.
The sun rose above them, the light glittering upon the sea in waves of gold. Balor waited for Mairead, and at last, she arrived on her own white horse, escorted by King John of England on one side and her father on the other.
The sight of his bride made Balor’s heart ache, and she wore her elder wood May crown woven with heather, gorse, and yellow roses.
Her smile mirrored his own, and King John led her to him, a bemused expression on his face. It had taken weeks of negotiation to heal the bruised relations, but the new alliances among the MacEgans, Lord Lowell, and Lord Beaumont had softened the king’s resentment.
Balor took Mairead’s hands in his as the priest gave the opening blessing. It was unusual to speak vows here, beside the sea, but he’d wanted to give her a gift upon her wedding day. It was also a reminder of the journeys they’d shared and the journeys yet to come.
They spoke their vows, and then the priest offered up the Mass for all the guests.
Balor held his wife’s hands in his during the celebration as he stared into her green eyes.
As a boy, he’d never imagined that he would one day marry a king’s daughter.
Or that she would love him as fiercely as he loved her.
When the Mass was over, he kissed her in front of everyone. Then he lifted her on his horse and swung up behind her. As they rode past hundreds of cheering guests, he leaned in. ‘I know this is our wedding, but I’m tempted to steal you away right now.’
She leaned back against him, happiness lighting up her face. ‘Do you promise?’
As they rode back to Laochre, he leaned to kiss her cheek, overwhelmed by all the precious gifts he’d been given.
And of all those yet to come.
* * * * *