Viking Fire (3 page)

Kaireen followed after Elva. Her mind raced as to how she might escape this. With her temper, the convent would not take her in. Maybe she could wed in secret to someone else beforehand, but she had found fault in her mind of any would be suitor.

Outside, she blinked adjusting to the light. Bram’s blond hair glowed in the sunlight. He wore blue hoses and a lighter shade overtunic. His leather belt held a sheathed sword. She flushed remembering the muscles she had seen there earlier.

Her handmaid curtsied to them both. She would serve as chaperone until another took her place.

They walked to the edge of the courtyard where a stone bench sat underneath an oak’s spreading limbs. The dark green leaves fluttered in the cool wind. Elva seated herself on the bench and set to work on embroidering the sample material with different designs to find one that Kaireen liked.

His smile warmed her, but she refused to smile back. Perhaps if he was not the believed spy, he was sent by the traitor to investigate their lands. Why else would he demand to see her lands so soon? An attack from there could be devastating as it would not be expected.

He held two pieces of toast. “Break your fast with me?”

“I would rather break fast with a kelpie, and take a drowning ride on its back to the depths of the River Shannon.”

“I can dunk you as easily, but you might need something to have the strength to fight me off.”

She huffed, but snatched one of the pieces he offered. While she nibbled, she refused to look up at him. They stood in silence eating. The wind shifted through the trees. Leaves rustled, hinting of autumn.

“Your father’s guards will escort us through your land.” His eyes focused on her face and she wondered why he stared at her so. “He says your dowry’s not far from here.”

Her land spread to the cliffs and met the pounding waves. Maybe luck would grace her and Bram would fall off the cliff and swim back to his land. “Since my lord father wishes, I will escort you.” Kaireen said.

He cocked his head to the side, examining her as if judging her motives.

But she simply smiled at him. The O’Neill clan lived south of her land. They did not take kindly to invaders. She would convince them not to kill him, but only to send him back to where he came from. Of course she would need to find an excuse to be away from her father’s guards long enough to get Bram close enough to the border. Perhaps a stroll in the woods? It would be easy to pretend she saw something in the distance, a child? She would come up with something, a distraction to get away long enough for her plan to work.

Kaireen ordered Elva to fetch their cloaks. As they waited they finished their toast. Kaireen stole glimpses of him. Aye, she thought, he was handsome to the eyes. Blond hair with strands of gold and copper filtered through the locks sweeping to his collar. Deep blue eyes contrasted with his skin darkened from the sea and sun.

He caught her stare and she jerked her head away, willing Elva to hurry.

After counting a hundred oak leaves, she saw Elva carrying their cloaks; heavy wool for Bram, and a black pile-weave for Kaireen.

They donned their cloaks. Another servant brought two saddled horses.

• • •

Across the rolling hills, Kaireen led him on horseback. Five of her father’s guards rode with them.

Side by side, she and Bram rode through the land. Bram spoke of his hopes in Ireland; hopes of raising a family, and plenty of land for farming. He would join his forces with her father’s as protection against raiders, both Viking and Irish. Squabbles among clansmen were often bloodier than Viking raids. She didn’t care that he would help defend against her enemies, not too long ago all would have considered him the adversary.

Unable to stop herself, she laughed as he described his first time riding a horse as a child. His facial antics brought tears to her eyes.

After two hours of riding they reached the border of her land and her father’s. Her manor stood on the other side of the rolling hill.

At the top of the hill, a cluster of elm trees rose in tight circle. Bram reined in his horse, glancing between the trees and where the manor stood.

“This mound is taller.” He scratched his chin. “Better defense, why not build the keep here?”

“Daoine Sidhe.” She dusted off her green gown. Looking at his puzzled expression, she knew he did not understand. “Fairies. Everyone knows.” She sighed. “A circle of trees or stones means Daoine Sidhe land.”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“Bad luck if you build on fairy land. They bring death.” She nodded her head. “Steal children, replace them with changelings.”

He stared at her like she was mad.

“Well, superstition, anyway. But no servant would enter a place built on Daoine Sidhe land, much less work there.”

He nodded, but she had the impression he thought the air had gone to her head.

Her father’s guards followed them as they continued. When she was eight summers, her father had built this manor for her. She was the only one of his daughters that he had given land and housing. The roof finished last year, and furniture added earlier in the spring. Her sister’s dowries were gold and jewels instead of land.

They dismounted, and Bram tethered their horses to a flowering bush. “It’s such a pleasant day, I thought we’d let the horses enjoy it as well.”

The guards waited outside sharing stories.

Inside, rushes swamped the stone floor. A scullery maid visited the manor once a week to clean and change the rushes. The frame shaped from wood and earthware. Steps, hearth, and floor carved from stone. They unfastened their cloaks, laying them across a stool in the kitchen.

She showed him through the kitchen, and behind a thick curtain to the private bath.

The sitting room branched from the hall and stairs rose in the corner.

“The bedchambers are upstairs.” She pointed.

“Lead the way, then, my lady.” He grinned.

His smile did not falter her resolve to be rid of him, instead she stomped each foot on the stone steps. She showed him the larger one first.

“Our room.” She waved her hand as she stood at the threshold.

He moved passed her and into the room. Surveying the goose-feathered mattress he turned back to her. “’Tis the first you admit we marry.”

“No. I said no such—”

He crossed the distance to her.

He pulled her in his embrace and she went rigid.

She opened her mouth to scream, but as she drew a breath his lips crushed hers. Tingles of warmth crept from inside her to the tips of her toes. Her mind raced, demanding she be free, while her traitorous body melted in his arms. She wished she had brought her dagger with her.

His kiss became gentle and sparked a craving inside her for more. His mouth opened, offering her to taste secrets within. She slackened against him as his tongue played across her lips, stroking them and numbing her thoughts.

He did not force his way further, but ended the kiss with her lips yearning for his.

Then he stepped back. She gasped, horrified. Her hands were clutching his hair and she jerked them away as if he scalded her.

“Your lips and eyes speak of your love.” He beamed at her frown. “Now I am sure of your passion for me.”

“No.” That was enough! He had overstepped his bounds with his prideful arrogant assumptions. “You are mistaken; I wish to never marry you.” She would not fall in love with him. No matter his handsome face. She must not allow herself to acknowledge that she liked it when he kissed her. How she wished to be rid of him and all the turmoil he caused. She would never be free if he became the laird over her.

“Aye, your kiss spoke more that you know.” He chuckled and held her hand kissing her palm. “In time the rest of you will agree as well.” What could he possibly know of her? How could he not see that she despised his kind and would never trust him as her husband and lover?

“You know not of what you speak.” She yanked her hand back.

“I know you long for me,” he whispered in her ear. “I like seeing your lips swelled and soft from my kisses.”

Auch! She should have bitten those lips. In her fuming to be ordered about during her bath, she had left her dagger again.

He strode away from her as her fingers clenched. Aye, Bram was dangerous. Time she gave him a shove.

Kaireen gathered her skirts and trudged downstairs.

Through the open door the breeze shifted, bringing the smell of the sea. Noticing Bram’s cloak gone, she snatched hers from the stool. She dashed into the open air.

Outside, the waves crashed against the rocks. Bram stood near the cliff’s edge.

The sea burst open in waves, spewing white foam. She tasted the salt in the air. She came here often to think. On windy days, the sea crashed so high that the droplets fell like rain.

She fastened her cloak. Lifting the hood, she pushed her hair inside.

A foot from Bram she paused. She wondered what he was thinking. His cloak and blond hair billowed, exposing his square jaw line. Minutes passed, but he did not move.

She walked forward until she stood beside him. His eyes were riveted to the ocean.

The wind strained against her and she fought to stand. She looked across the water, pondering what he stared at. Folding her hands she stifled a yawn.

“We are to have company soon.”

“Pardon?” She jumped at the sound of his voice.

Seagulls called.

“A ship heads this way.” He nodded his head to the waves. “Be here within two hundred strokes or so.”

Again she searched the waves. Then she gasped when she saw a dark shadow the size of a coin moving toward them.

“Friends of yours?” she asked.

“No. I recognize the ship; the owner killed my father without honor and refused to pay the wergild owed as recompense.” He turned to her. “And with a wench like you in their sights, they would kill me even if I was their king.”

She shivered. More Lochlanns was not what she needed. She could tell not how many came, but given the tension etched on Bram’s face she knew their number was too great for him and the five guards who came with them to overcome.

Images flashed across her mind of her struggling against a boatful of men. Laughing, ripping at her clothes.

Bram shook her shoulders, bringing away from her vision. “Take your horse and ride. Warn your father.” He rotated her around to face her horse. “Ride hard and do not look back.”

Without another word she bolted to her horse. She untied her mare and then mounted.

Dread crept into her throat, but she kneed her horse into a gallop. She would not reach her father’s holding in time to save Bram or the others.

The thought of Bram dead should make her nonchalant, but she didn’t want to be in any way responsible for it. His death especially upon her land would haunt her forever. She racked her brain. Surely she could do something, anything.

The O’Neill’s.

She jerked the reins and spun her mare. A short ride from the southeast of her land was the O’Neill clan, and they always had scouts watching for intruders.

She nudged her horse faster. “You may rest when we arrive at the O’Neill’s holding.”

Minutes dragged. She wondered if the land stretched ahead of her mocked her urgency. Hopefully she would make it in time to save Bram and the others.

She saw the O’Neill monastery on the cliff’s edge. It should be one mile more. Her horse leapt a fallen oak nearly unseating her as it traversed across the grassland.

When her mount reached a cluster of beech and ash trees, two large men jumped out.

Her horse reared. Kaireen tugged on the reins. Her horse settled but kept eyes on the men before them. She patted her mare’s neck, reassuring her. The two men held swords before her.

“Shame to you, Uaine and Quinlan.” She chided. As wide as they were, she wondered how she did not spot them earlier.

“You trespass on our lands.” Uaine lowered his sword from her glare. “Our laird’s son demands permission to any who may cross our land.”

Quinlan’s head bobbed in agreement with his brother. Though he was the younger of the two, he towered over his brother.

“’Tis an urgent matter.” She shifted in her saddle. “I must speak with your laird at once.”

They stared at their feet.

“W-we have our orders. N-none enter.” Uaine stuttered.

“Are you both daft?” Her horse pranced sideways. “I have no time for your trifling rules.” She leaned forward and kneed her mare into a gallop.

The horse’s hooves knocked Uaine backward. As she raced ahead, she heard their shouts behind her. A weeping willow slashed her face, but she tore through the land.

Arriving at the manor, her mare staggered. Her exhausted horse needed no further encouragement to stop.

Kaireen jumped off and tossed the reins to the stable boy. “Walk her. We traveled too far too fast for her to stop now,” She rushed to the stairs. “Gather the other horses, ready all of them.” He opened his mouth in surprise. “I am Laird Liannon’s daughter. Do it quickly and my lord father and your laird will reward you. Now go.”

The young boy scampered away, leading her sweating horse.

Through the gateway she rushed past the three guards taking turns swigging ale from a horn.

She raced the path to the manor. At the door, two guards seized her arms.

“Where you think you are going, my lady?” one said while his eyes roved her form.

“I am Kaireen, daughter of Laird Liannon. I must speak with your laird straightway.”

“Straightway, say you?” The guard smirked. “Well, our laird takes no commands from a lady. He will send you to the dungeon ’afore you can think to breathe.”

The guard hauled her inside to the waiting hall. His comrade made announcement of an intruder wishing to see the laird.

Moments later, Kaireen heard the buzz of voices fill the rafters. Her ears burned, hearing men’s voices refer to her as a mad woman.

“Send her in,” said a raspy male voice.

Both guards marched her forward by her arms. They entered a hall. Tapestries covered the walls. One at the back of the room held the O’Neill’s coat of arms along the edges and a battle scene with an O’Neill laird raising his sword in victory. A fire crackled in the hearth.