Surrender to an Irish Warrior (11 page)

She startled him, by bringing her hands over the hair he hadn't shaved. ‘You should grow it back, Trahern.'

He wasn't certain he wanted to. Not until he had his revenge and completed the task he'd set for himself.

She seemed to sense his reticence, but before she could pull her hands away, her hips accidentally bumped against his. She paled, realising what reaction she'd evoked.

‘Morren—'

She stepped back, covering her face with her hands. Her face had gone pale, but she took a deep breath. ‘Don't say it. I wanted you to kiss me, so you didn't break your promise. This was my fault.'

‘No.' He met her gaze. ‘But it's another reason why you shouldn't come with me. It's better for both of us, if we go our separate ways.'

The longer he spent time with her, the more she evoked a desire he didn't want to feel. He might inadvertently forget himself and frighten her.

Morren paled, but didn't move away. ‘You make me feel safe, Trahern. When I'm with you, I can forget about my past.' Her gaze moved down to the ground. ‘But I understand why you wouldn't want me. Those men—'

Anger lashed through him. ‘Is that what you think? Do you believe that I hold you responsible for what those bastards did?'

‘No, but—'

‘I kissed you because you were hurting. Because I wanted you to know that, in spite of everything, you're a beautiful woman who deserves to have a future with a family of your own.'

He raked a hand over his head. ‘I'm angry at myself because I came here intending to avenge Ciara. But with each day that I spend with you, she's fading from my mind. I don't like it. I feel like I'm betraying her, because I can't think of her when you're here.'

She stared at him, taken aback by his words.

Gods, he was behaving like an ass. Why would she care about any of that?

‘I'm sorry,' she whispered. Reaching up, she ran her fingers over his rough skull, down his bristled cheek, to his lips. ‘For both of us.'

He caught her hands, choosing his words carefully. ‘So am I.'

‘I haven't kissed a man in nearly a year.' She looked uncomfortable, but forced herself to continue. ‘And until now, I couldn't bear to be touched.'

Until now? The words sent up a flare of warning within him. But before he could think of what to say, she pulled back from him. ‘I'm grateful to you for that.'

She adjusted the
brat
across her shoulders. ‘Will you help me to see Jilleen? I want to be there with her tonight.'

And just like that, the moment was over, as though it had never happened. Trahern gave a curt nod, escorting her back.

He didn't look at Morren again, nor did he dwell upon the unexpected kiss. It meant nothing.

But he sensed the faith she held in him, the confidence that he would make things right again. And without knowing why, he took her hand in his, in a silent promise.

S
he didn't know how he'd done it, but Trahern had kept his word. With Katla's help, they managed to get past the guards to see Jilleen. Morren held her sister tightly in her embrace, while Trahern remained at the doorway.

They stayed together through the remaining hours, though Morren knew Jilleen wasn't sleeping. Before dawn filtered through the hut, her sister raised up to face her.

‘I don't regret what I did.'

‘Shh—don't speak of it now.' She took Jilleen's hands. ‘Try to get a little sleep, if you can.'

Jilleen's eyes no longer held the innocence of a thirteen-year-old girl. She drew her knees up, meeting Morren's gaze. ‘I'm glad he's dead.'

Morren smoothed a lock of hair away from her sister's face. ‘He won't trouble us again.'

Jilleen's mouth trembled, her hands clenching together. ‘I should have run faster that night. If they hadn't caught me, we'd both have been safe.'

Morren's eyes burned, her heart aching for her sister. ‘It wasn't your fault.'

‘It was. And now I've done something to make amends.'

From across the room, she saw Trahern approach. His height overshadowed the young girl, and he stood over her. ‘It was not your task to kill him,' Trahern said. ‘Though I understand your desire to avenge Morren.'

Jilleen jerked her attention to Trahern, her face colouring. He dropped to one knee, so as not to intimidate her. When he glanced at Morren, she saw that he was trying to help.

‘When my brother Ewan was a young lad, he followed my brothers and me everywhere,' Trahern said. ‘No matter whether it was a ride across the fields or on a dangerous cattle raid, he wanted to be there.

‘We're more than brothers,' Trahern admitted. ‘Friends, even.' His voice had drifted into storytelling, and Morren saw that he'd captured Jilleen's full attention. ‘We became closer, after we all returned from our fostering. One night, almost ten years ago, we faced a Norman attack. Dozens of archers and riders in full chainmail armour attacked us. Our eldest brother, Liam, was killed that night.'

The catch in his voice was hardly noticeable, but Jilleen heard it.

‘You tried to save him,' her sister said softly.

‘We did. And we weren't fast enough to stop the sword that struck him down.'

Morren hadn't known of his personal tragedy, for he'd never spoken of an eldest brother. She knew of his other four siblings, for he'd mentioned them a time or two.

‘You wanted to kill the Normans,' Jilleen predicted.

‘Yes. And my older brother Bevan wanted them dead most of all, for he was the closest to Liam. For a long time, he kept the vengeance in his heart.

‘He let it grow, filling him up inside, for he not only lost his brother, but also his wife in that battle.'

A tear had slid down Jilleen's cheek, and she hugged her
knees tighter. Morren felt her own eyes sting, for it seemed that Trahern was no longer speaking about his brother.

‘He lived each day, consumed by grief. And we all blamed ourselves.' Trahern lowered his voice to almost a whisper. ‘But in the end, we had to keep on living. We had to go on with our lives, for that was what Liam would have wanted.'

Morren tightened her arms around Jilleen, the story reaching down inside her. She stared at him, his grey eyes meeting her own. There was sadness in them, and resignation.

‘Get some sleep,' she told her sister, easing Jilleen down so that her sister's head rested on her lap.

Morren lifted her palm to Trahern, offering a brief touch of thanks. She only wondered if, after so much loss, he could let go of his pain and go on living.

Or if she could.

 

The
Lochlannach
chief, Dagmar, held the assembly at dawn the next morning. Morren hadn't let go of her sister's hand, and Trahern saw the shadows under her eyes.

The gathering was held in the centre of the
cashel
, and the body of the raider was laid out with his face revealed. One by one, the men and women passed by the man to identify him.

And every last Ó Reilly agreed that the raider had been one of those responsible for the attack. Before the raider's body was covered once more, Trahern saw Gunnar removing something from the man's belt. A dagger, possibly.

‘He deserved what he got,' Adham Ó Reilly pronounced, as one of the witnesses. ‘And were he alive, he'd have to pay restitution for the damage he did to our homes.' His gaze fixed upon Morren. ‘And he'd pay the body prices of our family members.'

Trahern stood, waiting until the angered voices grew hushed and fell into silence. His expression softened when
he regarded Morren's sister. When he spoke, he used the power of his voice to reach out to the people.

‘Jilleen Ó Reilly should not have murdered this man, true enough,' he began. ‘But there is not a man here who didn't consider taking the raider's life'

‘I believe there should be a penalty,' the chief interceded. Morren gripped Jilleen harder, and Trahern was prepared to argue, before Dagmar added, ‘But a minor one.'

Rising to his feet, the chief gestured towards the ruined homes. ‘Over the next month, Jilleen must work with her kinsmen and women, helping to repair the damage. Her restitution will atone for the raider's death.'

‘She shouldn't have to lift a single stone,' Trahern argued.

‘Are you questioning my judgement?' The chief stood and walked to face him. Eye to eye, the Viking leader saw the argument as a personal threat.

Trahern didn't care. ‘A girl of thirteen years is not the same as a murderer. We may not know why the raider joined in the attack, but his crimes were clear.'

‘It's all right, Trahern,' Jilleen interrupted. Stepping between the two men, she looked at one, then the other. ‘I accept my punishment. I'll help them rebuild.'

The girl slipped her hand in his, to reassure him. The chief stared hard at Trahern. At last, he gave Jilleen a nod of dismissal, turning his attention back to the matter of sending supplies and more men and women to the
cashel
.

Jilleen broke free and went back to Morren. A few minutes later, Katla approached. For a long moment, she studied the two women, saying nothing. Morren drew her sister closer, not meeting the woman's gaze.

As if a silent question had been answered, Katla turned back to Trahern. ‘I will look after them, when you leave. You have my word.'

The woman's face was grim, filled with understanding. But, to her credit, she said nothing more.

It was an opening, a way of leaving them both behind with the reassurance that Katla would watch over them. As a married woman, Katla could open her home, and he felt certain that Morren and Jilleen would be all right.

Still, he felt hesitant. There was a sense that he was abandoning Morren, just as he'd left Ciara behind. And try as he might, he couldn't seem to push away the feeling of un easiness.

The crowd began to disperse, the chief returning with several men back to their own
longphort
. Trahern accompanied Morren and Jilleen, and for the next few hours, they joined the others, working on one of the new huts.

But even the distraction of building couldn't stop him from catching glimpses of Morren. Her wheat-coloured hair was braided, and she kept her
brat
wrapped closely around her shoulders. Last night, it had rained, and the
cashel
was sodden with puddles and mud.

Morren kept guard over her sister, but he suspected she yearned to be back in the fields, from the way she kept casting glances outside the
cashel
.

‘Do you want to go and cut the rest of the barley?' he asked her. It would take a few hours, but they could finish. ‘We could get a few of the others to join us.'

‘I don't want to leave Jilleen,' she admitted, glancing at her sister.

‘I'm not a child, Morren,' Jilleen insisted. ‘You don't need to watch over me.' Morren's face showed her doubts, but her sister waved her on. ‘I'll be fine. And I'd rather work here with the others than out in a muddy field. Go with him, if that's what you want.'

Jilleen's words did little to convince her, and it was only Katla's faint nod of reassurance that made Morren change her mind. ‘All right. But only for a short while.'

She lifted her
brat
over her head to shield against the wind. Trahern picked up the scythes when he accompanied her and tried to encourage a few of the clan members to help. Not Adham, however. He couldn't bring himself to invite the man, not after the coward had abandoned Morren.

Despite asking several of the folk, none of the clan members wanted to venture forth into the fields, since there was so much labour to be done within the
cashel
. Were it not for Morren's fear that the grain would rot, he'd have been tempted to let it be.

But this was important to her. There was a connection between Morren and the land, one he couldn't deny. Upon her face, he'd seen the dismay at the burned grain, and the faint hope when they'd saved some of the barley yesterday.

As they walked together outside the
cashel
, he wondered if it was a mistake to be alone with her once more. The kiss last night had startled him. He'd dreamed of her that night, of her soft mouth and the taste of innocence. Despite the horror she'd known, Morren was a beautiful, desirable woman. And he wanted her far more than he should.

When they passed beyond the boundaries of the
cashel
, the ground was less treacherous, with grass to help them keep their footing. They chose a place near the remainder of the grain, cutting on opposite sides.

‘Thank you,' Morren said suddenly. ‘For letting me see Jilleen.'

‘She's going to be all right,' he reassured her. ‘The others are looking after her. Even Katla treats her like a daughter.'

Morren sent him a soft smile. ‘I know Katla lost her own daughter. I think taking care of Jilleen has given her a new purpose. It's as if my sister has a foster mother and a home once again.'

‘And you? Do you think you've found a home once more?'

Her smile faded away. ‘No.' She reached for a handful of
barley, slicing it low. ‘Not really. They think I'm the same woman I used to be. But I'm not.' She set aside the grain and reached for another handful.

‘You're stronger than that woman,' he said, ‘because you survived.'

Her blue eyes met his. ‘Sometimes, I think a part of me did die that night.'

He leaned upon his scythe, studying her. She was struggling, not really seeing herself as he did. He searched for the right way to explain himself, wanting to help her overcome the past.

‘Did I frighten you last night, when I kissed you?'

She stilled, and the grain fell from her hands. ‘A little.'

‘Did you believe I would force myself on you?'

She shook her head silently.

‘Because you know I wouldn't. And when a man comes along who cares for you—' he reached out and rested his hand upon her shoulder ‘—you'll know that there's nothing to fear. When love is there, it's about offering yourself. Not taking.'

Her palm covered his hand, the sudden warmth permeating his own skin. His desire to hold her, to feel the comfort of a woman's touch, was making itself known again.

He drew back slowly, so as not to give her the wrong impression. Suddenly, his feet slipped out from beneath him, and he landed hard on his backside.

‘Damned mud.' He regained his footing, not missing Morren's stifled laugh. ‘Watch yourself, or you'll end up—'

Morren skidded forward, laughing as she landed face down in the grain. She rolled over, her arms and cheek covered with the slimy mud.

‘Oh, this is terrible. We look like we've been bathing in it.' She wiped her face on the sleeve of her gown, wincing at the mess.

‘It's slick.' He reached down, bracing himself to help her up. ‘Be careful.'

‘My hands are covered with muck.' But there was a light in her eyes, a humour at what had happened.

‘I'm not certain today is the best day for cutting grain,' he said. ‘I think we've got most of it, anyway.' He realised that this part of the field was sparser, unprotected from the mud.

‘Weakling.' Morren took a careful step, reaching for her scythe. ‘You're afraid of getting your clothes dirty, aren't you?'

‘They're already soiled. And I've nothing else to wear.'

‘I think Katla has an extra gown,' she teased.

‘I'd rather go naked than wear women's clothing,
a chara
.' He saw the sparkle in her eyes, and her spirits seemed to lift.

She continued to cut the remaining grain, taking careful steps. ‘I'll finish this, and you can go back and labour with something more strenuous, if you must. I'm certain there are stones that need to be broken or heavy timbers lifted.'

A split second later, her feet slipped out from under her again, and she fell backwards. The scythe came spinning out of her hand, heading straight towards him.

‘Jesu,'
he breathed, dodging the blade. ‘Were you trying to kill me, then?'

She got onto her hands and knees, horrified by what had just happened. ‘I'm sorry, Trahern. I never expected—'

‘I know I need to shave my head again, but not in that way.'

She sat back, resting her dirty hands on her knees. ‘I apologise again. It really was an accident.'

Trahern took a careful step, not bothering to pick up her fallen scythe. ‘You're not going to be wielding blades again today. I value my life.'

Morren struggled to get up, but her heels slid out, and she toppled onto her back. ‘This is hopeless,' she complained. ‘I don't know how I'm going to get back to the
cashel
without crawling on my hands and knees.'