Wild Angel (31 page)

He didn’t answer, carrying her kicking and struggling
to the back of the stable where it was dark.

"Ronan? Ronan, what are you doing?"

She got her answer when she was dumped onto a soft pile
of straw, Ronan pinning her down with his powerful body before she thought to
try to flee.

"Ronan—"

His lips were brutal as they captured hers, his mouth
hot and tasting of wine. Lying stiff as a board beneath him, Triona nonetheless
gave up any notion of fighting him when his kiss deepened, his tongue lashing
wildly at hers. Soon everything felt hot, so hot, until she felt, too, as if
she were melting into the straw. She began to kiss him back, her eager response
making him groan and lift his head.

"Aye, woman, if this is how you wish to taunt me
then we will play it out. We will play it out!"

He said nothing more, his mouth devouring her as his
hand slipped between their bodies. Triona felt a sharp tug, but his ravaging
kiss kept her so preoccupied that she had no notion that her trousers were
being dragged from her hips, or that the hard bulge pressing so insistently
between her thighs had sprung free of its restraint.

She knew it, though, when his hot turgid flesh slid
easily into hers, Ronan grasping the balled fists her hands had become and
pushing her even deeper into the straw.

"Aye, taunt me," he said into her mouth, his
voice low and raw as he sank into her deeply, so deeply, then withdrew with
agonizing slowness. "Tease me, woman." He sank into her again, and
Triona could not help but moan. "Ah, that’s it. With your hips, your
beautiful body, with your soft taunting mouth, so hot . . . so wet . . ."

He barely had begun to thrust faster when Triona cried
out, her body growing rigid as her climax burst upon her with lightning
swiftness. But it was no more sudden than Ronan’s, his shattering release
nearly causing him to black out.

And when he did try to lift his head long moments
later, he felt such a streak of pain that he moaned aloud. As dizziness crashed
over him, he rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. It was then
that he heard ragged sobbing, the sound carrying straight as an arrow to his
wine-dazed brain.

By God, what had he done? Triona . . .

He reached for her, but she was gone.

Chapter 27

"TRIONA!"

His hoarse shout greeted by nervous neighing, Ronan
swiftly fastened his trousers as he lurched to his feet, rising just in time to
see Triona scrambling onto Laeg’s back. He began to run, pitching crazily, but
he was so far to the rear of the stable he had no chance to stop her. She
veered her stallion out into the moonlit yard before he even got to the doors.

And when he lunged outside, he couldn’t believe that
the O’Nolan’s men opened the gates for her, but they did, no doubt fearing she
would have crashed into them if they hadn’t. Now Triona was truly gone,
careening wildly out into the night. And it was his fault! His damned fault!

As shouts went up, the commotion raising an alarm,
clansmen began to pour from the hall, the O’Nolan and Niall among them. But
Ronan paid them little heed as he rushed back into the stable, willing himself
to think clearly despite the wine still dulling his senses.

Within what seemed no more than a moment’s time, he had
bridled his stallion and led the snorting animal out into the yard. Only to
come face-to-face with Niall who bore down upon him, his eyes ablaze.

"What’s happened? Damn you, Ronan, what have you
done?"

His tense silence seemed to confirm Niall’s worst
fears. In the next instant, Ronan felt a shattering blow to his jaw that felled
him.

"Stay off of him, man!" roared the O’Nolan to
Niall as Ronan staggered to his feet, grimacing in pain. "He’s your brother,
aye, but he’s your chieftain as well!"

"Chieftain or no, he deserved it! The woman came
all this way to apologize to him. All this way!"

Ronan faced Niall, his brother being restrained with
great difficulty by three strapping clansmen. "Release him."

"Aye, I’m not finished with you!" Niall
shouted, although the O’Nolan gestured for his men not to abandon their hold in
spite of Ronan’s command. "Another good crack and mayhap you’ll see that
you’ve just chased away a woman who wants to be your bride, only the saints
know why!"

Triona’s sobbing coming back sharply to haunt
him,
Ronan had never felt so wretched. "She said this
to you?"

"Not to me, brother, because she wanted to tell
you herself! She couldn’t have been more eager to see you—aye, nervous, too,
because she knew how badly she’d hurt you. But when we saw that you’d been
drinking, I told her she should wait until morning. But she couldn’t wait,
Ronan! She couldn’t wait to tell you how sorry she was for accusing you so
wrongly about Conor. Couldn’t wait to tell you how much she cares!"

Ronan could say nothing, his throat was so tight. God
help him, he deserved that Triona would never come back to him. After what he’d
done to her—

"Aye, it’s hitting you, isn’t it? As well it
should! And you know
what’s the most ironic thing of all,
brother
?" Ronan met Niall’s eyes.

"All along when you thought Triona hated you? She
was only acting as she did because she thought you truly didn’t want her. Aye,
you heard me. She thought she was nothing but an obligation to you—that if she
ever wed you, you’d go right back to trying to make her into something she wasn’t
just as you did when she first came to Glenmalure."

"I do want her," Ronan said in a fierce
whisper. "I love her."

"Aye, well, you’ve done a fine job of showing it!"

"Then get out of my way, damn you, and let me find
her!" His jaw still throbbing, Ronan vaulted onto his stallion’s back and
gathered up the reins.

"Triona can’t be thinking to ride far, brother,"
Niall
said,
his voice now not half so angry. "At
least not tonight. She wouldn’t run Laeg that hard after riding all the way to
Carlow without a stop."

Without a stop? Ronan once more felt his throat tighten
as he looked down at his brother. "I owe you much, Niall O’Byrne."

"Tell me that after you’ve found her, Ronan. And
if she’ll still have you. Now go on with you!"

He did, galloping toward the gates as Taig O’Nolan
shouted after him, "Aye, and we’ll be searching, too! My men know the
Blackstairs like the palm of their hands. We’ll send up a shout if. . ."

Ronan was already well down the hill, the O’Nolan’s
words lost to his mount’s pounding hooves.

***

Triona didn’t know where she was riding. All she knew
was that she had to escape. Her eyes blinded by tears, she was grateful that
Laeg was so surefooted for she wasn’t doing a very good job of guiding him.

She was grateful, too, for the full moon shining over a
wholly unfamiliar glen. She pressed on past densely wooded hills that rose
sharply into peaks that weren’t as high as those of Glenmalure but just as
rugged-looking. But when Laeg’s gait began to grow labored, she knew that she
couldn’t push him much farther. They would have to stop and rest, at least for
a few hours.

Then what? Triona asked herself, veering her exhausted
stallion into the forest to lessen the chance that anyone would find her. She
dismounted and began to lead Laeg almost aimlessly through the trees, each step
giving her no answer to her question other than that she never wanted to see
Ronan again.

Fresh tears burned her eyes as she remembered what he’d
called her.

A witch.

And worst of all he had forced himself upon her, after
he’d said he would never do so again. Aye, she may have given in to him, but if
she’d fought him tooth and nail, would it have made any difference?

Triona nearly bumped into a gnarled oak, she was so
ravaged by her thoughts. Sighing, she decided this place was as good as any to
rest for a while but when she tried to tether Laeg, he tossed his head at her
and kept walking.

"What is it, Laeg?" She followed after him,
not surprised that her voice had gone hoarse. It seemed she’d done enough
crying within the past few days to last a lifetime.

Laeg’s high-pitched whinny sent a chill racing through
her. Triona lunged for the reins as the frightened animal suddenly bolted.

"Laeg, no! Wait!"

She was too late, snatching at nothing but air and
losing her balance in the bargain. She hit the ground so hard that the wind was
knocked with a painful whoosh from her lungs, but she didn’t lie on her stomach
for long. An ominous howl coming from somewhere not too far behind her made her
scramble to her feet, her eyes darting all around her as she set off at a
desperate run after Laeg.

Jesu,
Mary
and Joseph! She had
to find her horse! If there were wolves following their trail she would need
weapons, but her bowcase was still in the leather sheath strapped to Laeg’s
back.

Another chilling howl made Triona run harder, but the
trees were so thick that she had to weave in and out—which served only to slow
her down. And nowhere did she see any sign of Laeg, not that she could have
spied him so easily. The forest had grown almost as black as pitch, very little
moonlight filtering through the abundant summer leaves.

Foolish ninny! Triona paused a brief moment to catch
her breath and get her bearings. She should never have strayed so deeply into
the woods. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with Ronan, she would have been
thinking more clearly and paying attention to what she was doing.

A terrified whinny suddenly sounded in the distance,
Triona fearing in that moment for her stallion’s life. Oh God, if the wolves
had found him . . .

"Run, Laeg! Run!" she shrieked at the top of
her lungs, hoping her voice would carry through the trees. She bolted herself
when she saw a dark skulking shape out of the corner of her eye, her heart
hammering wildly.

She shrieked again, this time in a desperate attempt to
frighten away the demon dogs she sensed like an evil wind were following her.
She pulled her jeweled dagger from its sheath, grateful she had at least
something to use against them. Hoping that Laeg had found his way safely out of
the woods, she headed herself in a direction that she prayed would take her
back into the open.

Her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she kept shouting
as she ran,
shouting
and waving her arms. She even
glanced behind her once, but what she saw made her not want to turn around
again. She’d spied at least five wolves gliding like hungry wraiths in her
wake, so close to her now that she could see the fearful yellow glow of their
eyes.

Helplessness filled her. She would never be able to
fight them with one small dagger. Somehow she had to elude them; she began to
search desperately for a tree she could climb. But the lowest limbs were well
over her head, and when she heard a low growl off to her left, she knew with
horrible certainty that the wolves were circling around her.

A moment later she heard another feral growl no more
than fifteen feet in front of her. She began to laugh giddily, for the first
time in her life her fear so great she could taste it.

She stopped and pivoted in place. There was nowhere
else she could go. Again she shrieked as loud as she could, but her ploy didn’t
daunt the stealthy creatures. She saw a dark flash as the nearest wolf lunged
for her, screaming in earnest as she somehow managed to dodge its lathered jaws
and yet swipe across its belly with her dagger.

She heard a shrill yelp, praying that she’d injured the
creature severely enough to fell it. But then another wolf came at her, this
one much bigger than the last. Before she could lunge out of the way, the
hellhound’s weight knocked her hard to the ground, her dagger flying from her
hand. Yet she felt no fanged teeth sinking into her flesh, the night creature
slumping lifelessly across her legs, its warm body twitching.

Stunned, Triona saw the fletched arrow sticking from
its ribs at the same moment someone yanked her bodily to her feet and thrust
her against a tree.

"Don’t move!"

She couldn’t have if she had wanted to, tears coursing
down her cheeks as she was shielded by Ronan’s body, his back wedging her in
place. She heard him curse as another wolf lunged at them . . . heard the
zinging arrow find its mark, the vicious growls abruptly falling silent. Thrice
more it happened, Ronan finally stepping away from her to pull her roughly into
his arms.

"By God, woman, you’ve never been one to make
things easy on a man."

She wasn’t going to make it any easier now, either, no
matter that Ronan had just saved her life. Balling her fists, she pounded upon
his broad chest, his arms, his shoulders, though her heart was screaming to her
to throw her arms around him and hold him tight. But if she wouldn’t, he did, crushing
her against him, his voice raw and impassioned.

"Tell me it’s not too late for us, woman! Tell me
that you can forgive me . . . that you might still want me."

She squeezed her eyes tight against scalding tears that
would not stop, his rampant heartbeat thudding in her ear. "How can you
ask that of me when I’m nothing to you? A duty, an obligation . . . a—a witch!"

"No, Triona, you’re an angel. My angel."

His warm lips covered hers, drawing her breath from her
in a kiss more passionate than any that had gone before. Yet it was achingly
brief as Ronan pulled away from her to sweep his weapons from the ground. He
found her dagger, too, the diamonds sparkling in the dim moonlight, and
returned it himself to the sheath at her belt.

"Many are looking for you, Triona. They must know
that you are safe."

He lifted her into his arms before she could say a
word, and hugged her close against his chest. "Thank the saints that you’ve
the lungs of a banshee. Else I would never have found you in time . . ."
He didn’t finish, brushing a kiss to her temple as he set off with her through
the woods.