The Warrior's Touch (18 page)

W
hen the grey sky of dawn broke forth, Connor and his four brothers rode through the fields of Laochre. He took strength from his brothers’ presence, though he had already warned them not to cross over into Flynn Ó Banníon’s territory. This was his battle, not theirs.

Three days remained before the Feast of Samhain. Connor forced his right hand around the hilt of his brother’s sword. The cool metal warmed beneath his palm, a mixture of steel inlaid with ivory. All throughout the ride, he focused his mind on the forthcoming battle. And still his thoughts dwelled upon Aileen.

She had wanted him to turn from the fight, like a coward. Why could she not see that his honour was all he had? In the past few days, she’d avoided him. He didn’t like to admit that he’d noticed it. He’d grown accustomed to sharing conversations with her.

And the taste of her hung upon his memory, the sweetness she’d offered.

What if I want the man you are now?
she’d asked. He didn’t believe her. No woman wanted a malformed man who could not protect his family. Until he proved his strength, he had no right to stand in as Rhiannon’s true father.

In the past, he’d lived as a hired sword, travelling from one tribe to the next. The only hope of having a permanent home and family was by winning a position as a chieftain.

He glanced at his brother Patrick. Patrick had fought for the right to be king when their eldest brother Liam had fallen in battle. It was right for him to lead the tribe; he’d earned it. Even his brother Bevan had gained his own property by wedding a Norman lady.

Connor swallowed back the envy. Why could he not be content? Trahern and Ewan did not possess the same ambitions. He wished he could force his desires to be silent.

‘Are you ready for this fight?’ his brother Ewan asked when they stopped late in the afternoon to make camp. Worry furrowed the lad’s face. ‘I have not seen you training among the men.’

‘I oversaw his training,’ Patrick replied. ‘He is ready.’

Connor caught his gaze, sending silent thanks for Patrick’s confidence. Bevan, on the other hand, appeared doubtful.

‘Flynn Ó Banníon will not be an easy warrior to defeat. He knows your weaknesses.’

‘And I know his.’ The clipped response ended the discussion. Connor had trained as best he was able. Now he could only wait for his opportunity.

They tethered the horses, choosing a spot not far from a nearby stream. A running waterfall cascaded into a small pool. Not far, they found an earthen trench lined with wood. The cooking site meant that other hunters had camped here before. The trench held rainwater, and Ewan emptied his water skin into the cooking pit. He returned with more water from the pool until it was full.

When they had a fire ready, Trahern dropped several stones in the flames to grow hot for cooking. He passed Connor a horn of ale, his eyes wicked. ‘I’d like to be knowing more about your woman Aileen. And the girl who looks like our mother.’

‘She is my daughter,’ Connor admitted. ‘I only learned about Rhiannon a short time ago.’

Rhiannon. The name of his daughter filled him with apprehension and humility. He wanted to know her better, to ease the resentment the girl felt toward him.

Patrick’s gaze narrowed. ‘Aileen should have told you about her long before this.’

‘It was as much my own fault as hers,’ Connor said. He took a drink from the horn, passing it to Bevan.

‘Do you intend to wed Aileen?’ Trahern asked.

The question caught him unprepared. ‘I do not know.’

He hadn’t allowed himself to envision a future. His attentions were tightly locked upon the outcome of this fight. Blinded, he was, to anything past it. He didn’t dare imagine his prospects afterward.

Patrick and Bevan sent each other a silent look, one which Connor ignored. He could live without their speculations. It was none of their affair.

Trahern removed the hot stones from the fire and used a heavy cloth to drop them into the water-filled trench. Steam hissed and in time the water boiled. Patrick handed a haunch of venison to Trahern, who wrapped the meat in straw and tied it up. Trahern placed the meat inside the boiling water to cook, and later entertained them with stories while they relaxed in front of the fire.

As the afternoon drifted into evening, Connor studied each of his brother’s faces. They had come to offer their support to him, refusing to let him take this journey alone. He was grateful for it. And he prayed that this would not be the last time he saw them. He didn’t want to die, but a part of him was aware of his limitations. This battle would stretch every fibre of his strength, pushing him until he had nothing left to give.

A rustling noise made the men draw their swords. A single rider emerged in the darkness, and he saw Aileen dismount.

Her dark hair had come loose from its braid, long tendrils framing her face. She had ridden quickly, breathing hard at the pace.

Connor caught the mare’s reins and helped her down. ‘What is it? Is something amiss?’

Shadows of exhaustion lined her face when she stood before him. ‘Yes, something is amiss. You left us behind without saying goodbye.’

Her hands reached up to his shoulders. In her eyes he saw apprehension and pain. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘If you want me to go, I’ll leave. But I wanted to see you before the fight.’ Her hand moved to his hair, and a raw need reached inside him, taking apart all his reasons for denying her.

‘Don’t go,’ he said. His thumb caressed her temple, and he pulled her body close to his. The scent of crushed sage flooded his senses. Though he believed there was no future for them, it felt right to have her here.

Aileen cast a look toward his brothers. ‘Is there some place private where we may speak?’

Connor took her hand and walked with her into a grove of trees. Soft ferns carpeted the ground, fading sunlight glowing through the trees. When they reached a rocky area, the sound of a small waterfall greeted them.

Aileen sat down, releasing his hand. Her heart pounded furiously, her mind unable to think clearly. When she’d learned of his departure, it was as though someone had squeezed the very breath from her body. She couldn’t allow him to leave, not without telling him how she felt.

But now, her tongue could not form the words she wanted. She couldn’t let him go to Flynn Ó Banníon without being with him. Even if she had to watch him die, she could not remain at home. Waiting was the worst form of torment.

‘Why have you come?’ He knelt down beside her, hunkered upon one knee. In the dim evening light, his dark gold hair gleamed. She reached out to bring his face close to hers.

‘Because I made a mistake seven years ago.’ She leaned in so her forehead touched his own. ‘And I need your forgiveness.’

Connor pulled back. His thumb caressed the curve of her jaw, and she shivered at the dark look in his eyes. ‘Please.’

He lowered her onto the grass, his mouth hungry against her own. She tasted desire and desperation, mixed with a need so great it stole her senses.

When he ended the kiss, she unlaced his tunic and raised it over his head. Her breath shook when she saw the expanse of muscle and skin. He had indeed been training. Not a trace of excess flesh broke the firm planes. She traced every ridge, possessing him with her touch.

‘I love you, Connor. And I need to be with you. Even if you die.’

‘You still believe I will lose.’

Beneath his austere tone, she sensed his own fear.

‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘But though I may not understand your desire to fight, I will stand by you.’

She could not read his response. He made no move to caress her skin, to love her the way she wanted him to. He was deeply aroused, she could feel it through the soft fabric of his trews. And yet, he held himself back.

‘And afterwards?’ he asked. ‘What do you want from me, Aileen?’ He rolled to his side to regard her. ‘Do you think I’ll become a farmer?’

‘I don’t know. But you could try—’

‘That isn’t what I want. I want what my brothers have. I want to be a leader, with my own people to protect.’ He moved a strand of hair from her cheek, the subtle gesture burning her with need.

He dreamed of the impossible. How could he want so much? ‘Is there something wrong with living in a simple manner?’

‘It’s not enough for me.’

The seriousness in his voice caught her heart. He meant it. If he somehow managed to defeat Flynn Ó Banníon, he would not be content to live with her. With a shattering clarity, she understood that their differences were greater than she had imagined. Once again, she felt like the young maiden reaching out for the warrior far beyond her reach.

‘What will you do?’ she managed to ask, though she feared his answer.

‘It depends upon the outcome of this battle. If I win, then I will compete to become chieftain of a tribe. I have relatives in the west who could help me.’

Grief balled up in her throat, for she knew with a sense of finality that this was the end for them. ‘There is another way,’ she offered. ‘You could marry.’

His hand moved down her body to the curve of her waist. The tender gesture startled her. ‘I could,’ he acknowledged. ‘But few of the nobles would allow a younger son to wed their daughters.’

Aileen hid the sinking feeling in her stomach. He hadn’t denied the possibility of marrying someone else. She already knew he would never surrender his dreams of defeating Ó Banníon.

It left her with this one night to be with him. She covered his hand with her own, lacing her fingers in his.

‘I don’t intend to marry,’ he said. ‘If I cannot gain what I want by my own strength, then I won’t use a woman to get it.’

In a surprise motion, she rolled him to his back. Straddling his waist, she pinned him to the ground. He let her hold him captive, staring at her in disbelief.

‘It seems I’ve gained what I want, with my own strength.’ She wound her arms around his neck. ‘Be with me this night. I need you.’

Connor reached up and lowered her gown from her shoulders, exposing her skin to the cool night air. His palms reached up to cup her breasts. Her nipples tightened with the roughness of his skin against hers. He sat up, keeping her straddled against him. The arousing feel of his erection rocking against her womanhood brought a rush of wetness.

His mouth moved to the curve of her neck, his hands slipping off the rest of her gown. She lay naked, exposed to the darkening sky and the man she loved. By the gods, she wanted to curl up and weep. But this might be her last night to ever see him. Tomorrow they would arrive at Flynn Ó Banníon’s fortress, and preparations for the fight would begin.

‘I am thirsty,’ Connor said suddenly. Aileen pushed him back and rose. Her bare skin rose with goose bumps as she moved toward the stream.

No, she was not a woman whom he could wed. But for this night, she would take him into her arms, as before. She thirsted for him as well, to take him inside her and to feel the rush of pleasure burning in her womb.

Cupping water between her palms, she brought it to him. He drank from her fingertips, some of the water spilling upon her body. Connor removed the rest of his clothing and laid her next to the stream. He dipped another handful of the water and let it pour over her skin.

‘It’s cold!’ she gasped, but her words broke off when he began to drink from her. His hot mouth tasted a path to her breasts. He took the nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over the cockled tip. Heat blazed within her, and he kissed a path lower, sipping water from the hollow of her stomach.

Lower still, to her hips. He spread her legs apart, and Aileen’s breath choked in her throat. ‘There’s no water there,’ she said.

‘There isn’t?’ His gaze turned knowing. ‘I’ll have to look and see.’ He bent between her thighs, his tongue moving to her womanhood. Aileen gasped when he tasted her deeply, running his tongue to the most sensitive part of her. He sucked hard, and vicious pleasure rocked through her. She clutched his hair, her body shaking with desire. Coils of need wound tighter as he tormented her.

Then abruptly he moved atop her. She cried out in shock and ecstasy as he filled her, again and again.

‘I love you,’ she whispered.
Even though he would not stay
.

He covered her mouth with his own, pushing her over the edge until she trembled with release. It would never be like this again, not with any other man.

Holding him against her, she closed her eyes. He grasped the corner of her
brat
and rolled the long shawl to cover them. Their bodies nestled together, and Aileen closed her eyes.

When she was certain he was asleep, she whispered, ‘God be with you, Connor.’

To their credit, Connor’s brothers did not remark upon their absence that night. Ewan’s face turned crimson when Aileen greeted him. She tried to behave as if nothing were wrong, but Connor’s self-satisfied expression proclaimed exactly what they had been doing.

After another full day of riding, they reached Flynn Ó Banníon’s stronghold. High wooden towers rose above an enormous
rath
. Though not as large as Laochre, the fortress had implemented several Norman building techniques. The outer curtain wall was over twelve feet high, and Aileen craned her neck to see the remainder of the dwelling.

Fierce and craggy, the fortress resembled its owner well. Flynn Ó Banníon was not known for being merciful to his enemies. Ropes of foreboding constricted within her.

Connor wheeled his horse to a stop. ‘You are not going inside,’ he told Aileen. ‘Trahern will accompany me.’ To Patrick, Ewan and Bevan, he added, ‘That goes for the lot of you.’

Patrick only laughed. ‘Do you really believe we will let you go in alone?’

‘He betrayed me once,’ Connor said softly. ‘I would not put it past him to harm those close to me.’ His gaze fell upon Aileen, and she warmed to it.

‘In a few days more, I’ll be home,’ he promised. He pulled Aileen into his embrace. She laid her cheek upon his chest, inhaling the clean scent of him. He stroked her hair.

‘I want to be with you,’ she whispered.