Surrender to an Irish Warrior (7 page)

‘No, I need to return.' She looked over at her sleeping sister. ‘I think it would be best for Jilleen, as well.'

She leaned back, her spine resting against the wall of the hut. With their voices lowered, she had to lean closer to him to hear. He wondered if it made her fearful, being so near to him.

‘Trahern, how long will you stay?'

Until I know you're safe
, he almost said, but stopped himself. She might misunderstand the words.

Protecting Morren and her sister was a way of atoning for his mistakes with Ciara. He wanted to be certain that her clan didn't fall victim to the Vikings or be absorbed into the Dalrata tribe. And that would take time he didn't have.

Though he didn't like the idea of wintering amongst the
Lochlannach
, soon enough it would be too dangerous to travel. ‘Long enough to help your clan rebuild,' he admitted. ‘I want to know why the
Lochlannach
are so interested in your land. I suspect that there's more that the chief isn't telling us.'

He cast a look over at Katla, who had gone to sleep. ‘Among the Ó Reillys, I may learn more about the attack. And, if we work hard, you might spend the winter in your own homes.'

Morren shook her head. ‘Even if we rebuild, we don't have the supplies we need to last through the winter. Not unless any of the harvest was spared.' A despondent look crossed her face. ‘I doubt if anyone tended the fields.'

‘There's time enough to hunt. If everyone works together, we could preserve enough meat.'

‘But we've no grain.' She drew her knees up, growing quiet for a time. ‘And it's too late to plant.'

‘We could trade for what you need,' he offered. ‘There's always hope.' He opened his palm to her.

She looked into his eyes, and he saw softness mingled with determination. Tentatively she lifted her hand and placed it in his. ‘You're right. There's hope.'

He curved his fingers over hers, knowing what it had meant for her to reach out to him. The serene beauty of her face caught him like a spear between the ribs. For Morren Ó Reilly was more than what she seemed, with a strength veiled beneath the delicate features. Her wistful blue eyes had seen too much horror. He found himself wanting her to find happiness again.

But not with Adham Ó Reilly.

He didn't know where these possessive thoughts had come from. She needed a steady man to take care of her, to push away the nightmares of her past. Why should it matter if it were Adham, or Gunnar, or any other man?

Because those men didn't know what she'd suffered. They hadn't held the body of her child in the palm of their hand, nor did they know the unimaginable torment that she'd locked away.

She shouldn't have to reveal it. They didn't need to know.

Morren's gaze fell to his feet. The ties of his shoes were loose, the leather stiff from the cold. She reached out to his feet, meaning to bind them.

The light brush of her hands against his feet sent a rush of blood through his body. Though she did nothing more than adjust the ties, the gesture was unexpectedly arousing.

He couldn't have stopped the reaction if he'd tried to stop breathing. The light scent of her hair, the fragile air about her, made him want to pull her close.

What in the name of God was wrong with him? Was he so desperate for a woman that he'd consider touching Morren? He loathed himself for the betraying thoughts that desecrated Ciara's memory.

He jerked away from Morren and stood. ‘Go to sleep. We'll leave in the morning.' Without a word of explanation, he moved as far away from her as he dared.

But as he tried to force sleep, all he could think about was her.

 

At dawn, Morren rode back with the others toward Glen Omrigh. She hadn't been back in so many months, she was almost afraid of what she'd find.

Trahern had sent two of the Vikings back to the monastery to return the ageing horses they'd borrowed. Now that he was riding his own mount once again, he appeared more relaxed.

And yet, not once had he spoken. His cool demeanour unnerved her. Last night, he'd treated her like a vial of poison, after she'd mistakenly touched the ties of his foot coverings. She'd done it without thinking, the way she would adjust a child's laces.

But Trahern had behaved strangely ever since. He'd not spoken to her this morn, nor had he met her gaze. If it weren't for his protective guard, she'd have thought he was avoiding her.

He must have thought she was reaching out to him, wanting him in the way a woman desired a man. That wasn't true at all. Her cheeks flushed red. But even if it were, he'd treated her like discarded goods, a woman contaminated.

It cut through her, reaching down to the pain she'd tucked away, flaring the anger back.
It wasn't my fault. I'm not to blame for it.

She knew that, in her heart, but she forced her emotions back, burying them deep.
Don't think of it.
She clenched the reins of her horse, fighting back tears that she refused to shed. Although Trahern had saved her life, she suspected he viewed her as a burden.

And why? Had she ever demanded anything of him? The
more she thought of it, the more resentful she grew. He treated her like a younger sister or a child he felt responsible for. But she was a grown woman, more than capable of surviving on her own. She didn't need Trahern.

Morren closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong. She would be no man's inconvenience, nor would she let her fear transform her into a shadow. She had to think of Jilleen.

As she continued on the journey, she found herself staring at the small group of Ó Reilly survivors. One familiar face caught her eye. It was Adham, a man who had once shown interest in her.

He'd spoken to her when she'd arrived at the
longphort
. She hadn't replied, not wanting to face him. Silently she'd hoped that he would abandon his courtship efforts. She didn't want to be noticed by any man at all. Not any more.

Steeling her posture, she rode at Trahern's side. It was strange to be surrounded by so many people, and yet she'd never felt more alone.

The morning was cool, with low clouds shifting around the skirts of the hills. They rode north-east for over an hour before they passed the abbey, tucked high upon the hillside. After riding north for another half an hour, they reached the ruined
cashel
of Glen Omrigh.

The acrid scent of smoke struck her as they neared, the odour clinging to the ashen remains. Morren sobered at the destruction, but her gaze was drawn to the blackened fields, rather than the burned fortress. The raiders had set fire to the grain that night. The green barley shouldn't have burned so easily, but they'd been fighting a drought. Within minutes, the parched stalks had caught fire and burned brightly.

She doubted if any of the grain could be saved now. Their homes could be rebuilt, but it would take more time to heal the scarred land.

The men were already dismounting, and Morren led her
horse to the stream that swelled around the edges of the
cashel
, dismounting and letting the animal drink.

She wouldn't let herself look at the far exterior of the fortress, where the men had attacked her. The blunt memories were too raw to bear. Instead, she stared at the ground, forcing herself to concentrate on the land.

When the others went inside, she remained behind. Trahern accompanied Jilleen to the outer gate before he stopped, waiting for Morren to join them.

Though she knew it was foolish, she needed a few more moments outside. She signalled for him to go on, but Trahern didn't move. Instead, he watched over her, like a silent sentinel.

She walked through the blackened barley field, kneeling down as she examined the damage. Somehow, amid all the destruction, some of the stalks had survived. The golden colour contrasted against the ashes, offering a glimmer of hope. With nothing but the rain and the sun to nourish it, the barley had fought to live, in spite of being abandoned.

She lost track of time, but eventually, a movement caught her attention. Trahern now stood at the edge of the field, though he hadn't spoken to her. He watched over her, his hand resting upon his sword hilt.

The wind caught at his cloak, the dark mantle shrouding his form. Morren forced herself to leave the charred grain behind, walking toward him. When she stopped a few feet away, he held out his hand.

She hesitated, remembering how she'd held his palm last night. It had been a simple gesture, but one that still made her uneasy. The physical touch of his hand had sent a shiver of awareness within her. Not threatening, not forceful. But the warmth of his fingers closing over hers had been like an embrace, a reassurance that he would be there for her.

But that wasn't true, was it? Their paths were separate, and nothing would change that.

Trahern saw her discomfort, and he lowered his hand. She was afraid she'd offended him, but he shielded his thoughts and emotions.

‘Come,' he said gruffly. ‘There's something I want you to see.'

‘W
hat is it?' Morren followed Trahern inside the
cashel
where she found Jilleen waiting. Her sister had a nervous expression on her face, but she gave Trahern a brief nod.

‘It's something Jilleen discovered,' he admitted. ‘I thought you might like to go with us.'

Something about his tone made her sense her sister's fear. ‘All right.'

There was almost a visible relief on Jilleen's face, and Morren followed the pair further inside. Several men had begun clearing away the burned wood, while others worked on cutting timber for new framing. A few of the Viking women had come along and were gathering thatch to repair the roofs. Katla was directing the process, as though she were personally trying to rebuild every house. The men appeared irritated, and Morren hid a smile at the woman's forceful presence.

Jilleen continued leading them to the far side of the fortress, and Morren slowed her steps. If they continued, she would have to walk past the place where—

She shut out the thought. Jilleen was guiding them to the
souterrain
passage. She reached out and took Trahern's hand,
keeping her eyes averted. She didn't want to look at the trampled grasses or remember anything at all.

His strong hand guided her away from it, in a steady grip that reassured her. She only wished he could protect her from the nightmares, as well as the strangers here.

Jilleen held back the underbrush, revealing the entrance to the
souterrain
. The underground tunnel was used for storage and as an escape route during times of need. On the night of the attack, the raiders had set fire to the hut that covered the
souterrain
entrance, making it impossible to use the passageway.

‘Why are we going here?' Morren couldn't understand the purpose or why her sister had led them this way instead of using a ladder within the
cashel
.

Trahern squeezed her hand. ‘Go on, Jilleen. We'll follow.'

Once they were inside, Morren could see nothing in front of her. The stale interior smelled of earth and rot. She held her breath, following the pair deeper inside. Trahern's hand pulled her forward into a shaft of light that shone down from above.

Jilleen pointed to a pile of shattered clay vessels. ‘Look.'

Morren caught her breath when she saw what her sister was pointing towards. A handful of silver coins were scattered over the ground, as if gathered in a hurry. ‘Where did it come from?'

Trahern picked up one of the coins and held it to the light. ‘I suspect it was payment,' he answered. ‘Given to the
Lochlannach
raiders.'

Looking back at Jilleen, he added, ‘You were right to lead us this way, so the others wouldn't follow.' He reached down and poured a handful of coins into Morren's palm.

She couldn't repress an inadvertent shudder when the cold silver slid through her hand. ‘How do you know they belonged to the
Lochlannach
?'

‘Because these coins are older. Do you see the long cross? They're not Irish. Possibly a hundred years old.'

He held one out to her, and she examined it. He was right. She'd never seen coins such as these.

‘Should we show them to the Dalrata chief?'

He opened her palm and placed a handful inside. ‘No. Don't speak of it to anyone, and we may learn more. After the
Lochlannach
have returned to their settlement, you can use them to buy more grain and supplies for the winter.'

He didn't trust Dagmar, Morren realised. But she was less inclined to believe that the chief had anything to do with the attack. If he'd been responsible, why would he expend so much effort on rebuilding?

The warmth of Trahern's hand lingered a little longer than was necessary. Her skin prickled, and she didn't understand her response to his touch. It wasn't fear, but something else. Something unexpected.

She broke free, kneeling down to pick up the remaining coins. It gave her a means of hiding her embarrassment, and she placed them inside a clay vessel.

‘I'm going back,' Jilleen said, ‘before Katla notices.'

‘We'll follow you in a moment,' Trahern promised. Jilleen left the
souterrain
through the tunnel, while Morren finished gathering the coins.

When she stood, a gust of wind brought flakes of white drifting down the opening from above. ‘Snow?' She couldn't believe it, not this early in the season. It rarely snowed in this part of Éireann, and she was more accustomed to cold rain.

Trahern held out his palm, and the flakes melted upon them. ‘It's early for it.' A hint of a smile played on his features.

‘When I was a lad, I used to fight with my foster-brothers in the snow. We'd pack it into balls and throw it at each other.' His mouth softened at the memory.

‘The boys used to run from me,' Morren admitted. She reached up and another flake faded upon her fingertips.

‘Why would they run?' He led her outside the tunnel, taking her in the opposite direction, to the barley fields.

Morren breathed an inner sigh of relief that he hadn't led her back the way they'd come. ‘Because I could hit any of them with a ball of snow. Jilleen used to taunt them, and I had to defend her.'

He gazed at her with an intrigued expression. ‘Having good aim is a useful skill.' His grey eyes softened with interest, and she felt her cheeks redden. It wasn't the first time a man had looked upon her in that way, but she'd never expected it from Trahern. Especially not after the way he'd been distant earlier.

She tore her gaze away and moved toward the entrance of the
cashel
. ‘Let's go and meet the others.'

Lacy flakes swirled in the air, but most disappeared as soon as they touched the ground. When she walked inside again, she took time to examine the damage.

Charred wood and fallen stones were everywhere. The destruction made her throat ache as she remembered the families who'd lived here. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Such violence that night. For no reason at all, save the pieces of silver.

Trahern came up behind her. He said nothing at first, letting her grieve. She turned and saw her own pain in his eyes. The snow cut through her skin, the frigid air as cold as her heart. Her fingers tightened into a fist, as she understood his need for vengeance.

Friends, distant family members…gone now.

Her hands tightened upon the clay container, as though she could shatter the earthenware under the pressure. She handed it to him, closing his fingers around the open container. ‘Find the men who did this, Trahern. Please.'

‘I will.' Trahern's vow was quietly spoken, but there was intensity beneath it.

She believed him. He wasn't a man who would give up, not until he'd brought the raiders to justice.

‘You'll need the coins to buy grain for your people,' he said.

It made her skin crawl to even think of touching the coins that had paid for the lives of her kinsmen. But he was right. She would have to use them, and even then, it might not be enough.

‘Keep them for me,' she pleaded. ‘For now, at least.'

He emptied the container into a pouch at his waist. ‘They are yours, whenever you need them.'

Morren turned back, walking slightly faster than Trahern. She didn't want to believe that one of her own clansmen might have hired the men, but it was possible. She watched a group of Vikings working alongside Áron and a few of the other survivors. They'd finished a rough framing of two huts, and no doubt within a few more days, the shelters would be finished.

Gunnar was balanced atop one of the walls, hammering the wooden frame supporting the roof. Jilleen had joined Katla and some of the other women, bundling the thatch.

When she passed her own clansmen, Morren caught Adham watching her, a slight smile on his face. It was a questioning look, as though asking whether she would speak to him. She turned away, her stomach uneasy.

The truth was, she didn't want to face him. He'd done nothing that night to protect her. And, as far as she knew, he hadn't searched for her either. She couldn't quite let go of the resentment.

Trahern caught her hand in his once more. Though he masked the gesture as a way of leading her away from the men, she sensed his impatience. ‘What is it?'

‘You're pale.' He led her inside one of the half-finished shelters and dragged a sanded tree stump for her to sit upon. ‘I don't want you to push yourself too hard.'

‘Stop treating me like I'll shatter,' she protested. ‘There's nothing wrong.'

‘It's only been a few days,' he reminded her quietly. ‘And there's nothing wrong with taking a moment to rest.' His eyes passed over her in a silent inspection. ‘You haven't seen the Dalrata healer yet, have you?'

‘No. There was no need.' Did he truly believe she'd reveal her shame to a stranger?

He sat across from her. ‘Morren, you need time to recover. You lost a great deal that night.'

The words sliced through her at the mention of her child. Her eyes welled up, though she managed to hold back the tears. ‘I'm all right.'

But she wasn't, not truly. Even so, she forced herself to say, ‘You needn't treat me like I'm weak.'

‘Allowing yourself time to heal isn't a sign of weakness. It's good sense.' He studied her face, and his expression was haggard and grim. ‘I shouldn't have brought you here.'

‘I needed to come.' She rested her wrists upon her knees. ‘And in a moment, I'm going back outside. There's a lot of work to be done.'

‘Not by you. The others are stronger.'

‘I can't sit and do nothing, Trahern.' She gripped her hands together. ‘Otherwise, I'll start to remember it. I need the work. It makes it easier to bear.' She stood and crossed the hut to stand before him. ‘Can't you understand that?'

A glimmer of sorrow passed over his hardened face. ‘I understand the need to forget, yes.'

‘Then let me work. I want to tend the burned fields and do what I can to make things right again.'

His palm reached over to her hair, with the lightest touch. It was the sort of gesture a parent might grant to a child, to lend comfort. No longer did she fear his touch, but the simple caress unnerved her. She found herself wanting to rest against his
broad chest, to feel strong arms around her. To draw strength from him, for she had nothing left inside.

‘I'll work alongside you,' he offered. ‘And if you start to tire, you're going to stop.'

The hint of a smile faltered upon her mouth. ‘Is that a command?'

‘Aye.' He walked outside again, waiting for her to follow.

When they approached the others, Jilleen walked towards them. Her sister's tangled brown hair hung against her cheeks, and Morren reached for a strand, tucking it behind one ear. Though she'd slept beside Jilleen last night, her sister had hardly spoken to her.

‘I'm going back into the fields with Trahern,' Morren said. ‘Come and help us.'

A strange look crossed Jilleen's face. Her gaze shifted to Trahern's face and then back again. ‘No, I don't think I should.'

Morren frowned, not knowing whether her sister was afraid of Trahern or was simply trying to avoid the labour.

‘Why not?' she probed. ‘Did something happen?'

‘No, nothing.' Jilleen blushed. ‘But Katla asked me to help her and the other women with the thatching. We're working to get it ready for the rooftops.'

Morren hesitated, and her sister begged, ‘Please? It's dull working in the fields. And besides, the crops are all burned anyway. Can't I stay here?'

The fervent tone sounded a little
too
enthusiastic. Jilleen didn't even know the
Lochlannach
women, so why was she trying to remain with them?

‘Trahern would be more help than me.' Her sister shot the man a faltering smile. ‘He'd do whatever you asked him to.'

Morren doubted that, but it was starting to become clear what her sister's intentions were. The faint colour in Jilleen's face made it even more apparent.

‘I'd like to speak to my sister alone for a moment,' she asked Trahern. Thankfully, he looked grateful to escape.

‘I'll go and help with the wall,' he said, pointing to a group of men who were dry-fitting limestone into the stone palisade.

When he was out of earshot, Morren leaned over to her sister. ‘Jilleen, what is going on in that head of yours?'

Her sister shrugged. ‘He watches over you. And you need someone to take care of you now.' Jilleen glanced up at the sky, where it had stopped snowing. ‘He would protect us.'

Morren put an arm around her sister, in a half-embrace. ‘We're going to be safe,' she promised. ‘I won't let anything happen to you again.'

‘But what about Trahern?'

‘He saved my life, and that's all.'

Jilleen didn't look convinced. ‘He likes you, and I've never seen him leave your side.' With a hopeful look, her sister added, ‘He could be handsome, if he grew back his hair.'

Morren couldn't believe they were having this conversation. Was her sister honestly trying to make a match between herself and Trahern? ‘No. It's not that way.' Trahern was still in love with Ciara, and she had no desire to form a match with any man. ‘It won't happen,' she insisted.

‘Not if you don't try.' Jilleen turned her attention back to the men who were rebuilding the outer wall.

Morren stared at her sister. ‘Why would you think I'd want to “try”, after all that's happened?'

Her sister held herself motionless for a long time. When Morren was about to repeat her question, she saw the stricken expression on Jilleen's face. She opened her arms, and Jilleen gripped her tightly, her voice trembling.