Authors: Miriam Minger
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Medieval, #Irish, #Historical Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance
"Unpleasant, mayhap, but a brew that should make
you feel better or at least help you to sleep."
She sighed when Niall shook his head stubbornly, but
the boyish grin he somehow mustered truly amazed her.
"A brimming cup of ale would do the job nicely,
don’t you think?"
Now she knew that he was going to
recover,
besides that she didn’t have the heart to refuse him. "Well, it would
certainly taste better than the healer’s remedy. I’ll fetch one for you only if
you promise not to try to rise from that bed again until the healer says you
may. Are we understood?"
"Aye, Triona, I promise."
She smiled, clasping his hand. "Then a cup of ale
it is."
TRIONA WAS STILL sitting by Niall’s bedside hours
later, Aud stitching a shirt near the flickering oil lamp while Maire was
working quietly at her embroidery, when Flann O’Faelin appeared at the door.
Niall was sleeping peacefully, so the huge Irishman kept his voice low.
"I thought all of you might want to know, the O’Byrne’s
back."
Her heart lurching, Triona rose from the chair. "Ronan’s
here?"
"Aye,
miss
, and from the
looks of it, there’s wounded among his men. I hope you can spare the healer—"
"Maire and I can see to the O’Byrne’s brother,"
Aud broke
in,
her brown eyes alight as she turned to
Triona. "Go on with you, sweeting! You’ve been waiting all these hours . .
."
Triona needed no urging, careening past Flann in her
haste to get outside. She squinted in the brilliant midday sun. The stronghold
yard was alive with sounds: horses whinnying, dogs barking excitedly—aye, she
heard Conn barking, too—people calling to each other, women and children
rushing through the melee to find husbands and fathers. But she didn’t see
Ronan anywhere.
At once Triona began to fear that he might be among
those wounded, Flann not having the heart to tell her. She plunged with a
racing heart into the throng, her anxiety increasing by the moment. Then it
occurred to her that Ronan might have gone first to their dwelling-house to
look for her, which sent her running in that direction. But the instant she
opened the door, she knew he wasn’t there, the place disconcertingly quiet.
Once more she began to think the worst—until she
realized that Ronan must have gone to see Niall, the two of them just missing
each other in the crowd. Ninny! Of course he would go first to see his brother.
Triona cut back across the yard, almost to Niall’s
house when she suddenly spied Ronan talking with several of his men outside one
of the stronghold’s grain houses. He seemed to be giving them orders. Strange.
He seemed unconcerned for her or his brother.
Stung, Triona turned her back the moment she realized
Ronan had seen her.
"Triona, wait!"
She ignored him and kept walking, though she didn’t get
far. He caught up with her almost at once, grabbing her by the waist and
spinning her to face him.
"Woman, have you gone deaf?"
Triona jutted her chin, her eyes flaring. "Are you
so busy already that you can’t take a moment first to find me and let me know
you’re safe?"
Recognizing her distress he swept her into his arms. "Do
I look sound, Triona? Healthy? Whole?"
She had to fight hard not to smile at his low teasing,
thinking that Ronan had never looked more handsome to her despite his smelling
strongly of sweat and horses. But that wasn’t so unpleasant either, she
decided, a shiver racing through her.
"Aye, you look well enough, but Flann said there
were men wounded. I didn’t know—"
"I’m
fine,
Triona, and
fortunately no one suffered any grave injury. Our attack was a surprise after
all." Releasing her, Ronan sobered, looking almost as grim as when he had
been speaking with his men by the grain house. "Flann told me the moment
we arrived that Niall was doing better, so I saw first to another matter."
"And that was what?"
Ronan looked out across the yard, his tone grown harsh.
"I had a prisoner to attend to."
"A prisoner?"
"More a hostage. But come, we can speak of this
later.
"
He
took her hand and steered her toward Niall’s house, his expression easing. "Tell
me about my brother. When did he wake?"
"Early this morning," Triona murmured,
startled by Ronan’s swift change of mood. Clearly, he had dismissed his
prisoner altogether from his mind and now Triona did, too, eager for him to see
how well Niall was doing. "I was with him when he awoke, Ronan, just as
you wanted."
This news made him pull her close, hugging her as they
came to Niall’s door. "I hope you’re not angry with me for asking you to
stay."
"You didn’t exactly ask me," she reminded
him, slipping free of his embrace to enter the dwelling-house ahead of him.
Then she just as quickly spun, throwing her arms about his neck as he crossed
the threshold. "But mayhap I might forgive you for being such a tyrant if
you’d say you were sorry—"
His
lips capturing hers was
just the apology she craved, his strong arms circling her to crush her against
him. He kissed her so passionately, his mouth warm and urgent, that she almost
forgot where they were and why they’d come. Niall’s wry voice carrying to them
from his room was an instant reminder.
"Do I get a greeting before the two of you
disappear for the rest of the day?"
Her cheeks beginning to burn, Triona could see from the
heat in Ronan’s eyes that the idea appealed to him as well. She took his hand
and led him into Niall’s room, which was bright now with sunshine, the cloth
covering at the window drawn back to emit the light.
Remarkably Niall was sitting up, several pillows
propped behind him while Aud stood at his side, plumping another. And Maire was
smiling happily, looking from Ronan and Triona back to Niall. Yet for all Niall’s
welcoming grin, he looked pale and physically weak, his voice holding a slight
quaver.
"Good to see you again, brother."
Ronan left Triona to take the chair beside Maire’s.
When he had ridden from the stronghold, he hadn’t known if Niall would survive
the night. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.
"Aye, it’s good to see—" Ronan stopped,
suddenly smelling the distinct odor of ale emanating from his younger brother.
Casting a glance at Aud, who shrugged as if acquitting herself of any blame,
and Maire, whose smile now appeared a bit uncertain, Ronan looked back to
Niall.
"Has the healer adopted some new method of cure
for arrow wounds?" he demanded with mock sternness, trying hard not to
smile. "A little something extra added to the poultice?"
"Not at all, brother,"
came
Niall’s somber response. "But I see no harm in washing down those nasty
herb brews with a good draft of ale . . . when the healer’s back is turned, of
course."
"Of course." Ronan saw the glance Niall shot
at Triona, who’d come up behind him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. "And,
of course, you’ve enlisted someone to keep your cup well filled, have you not?
You’re certainly in no shape to walk to the kitchen yourself—probably even
less, now."
"Aye, I’ve a kind helper," Niall said at the
same moment Ronan caught Triona by the wrist, pulling her around into his lap.
"A brazen redhead, mayhap?"
"All right, all right, it was me!" Triona
cried, squirming in Ronan’s arms. But she wriggled even more when he began to
nuzzle her neck, which brought a low chuckle from Niall as Maire and Aud glanced
at each other with very pleased expressions.
"Any chance you might have brought a priest back
with you, brother?"
"Aye, I’d say that would be a wise thing from the
looks of it," Aud interjected with a soft laugh.
"And it’s a beautiful day for a wedding,"
Maire added, a note of excitement in her voice.
"Aye, so it is, but I’ve no priest," Ronan
said regretfully, feeling Triona grow very still against him. Sensing her
disappointment, he gently swept some bright copper curls off her shoulder. "But
now that I’ve seen for myself that my brother is well on the mend, I plan to
send some men within the hour to Glendalough. Early afternoon tomorrow sounds
like a fine time for a wedding, wouldn’t you say?"
"Oh aye!" Maire exclaimed before Triona could
reply, her outburst seconded as Aud gave a distracted gasp.
"Why, the cook will have to be told at once if
there’s to be a proper marriage feast!" Aud took an instant to lay her
hand upon Niall’s forehead, clucked her tongue with
satisfaction
and then hurried across the room. "If I hear of you moving around too
much, young man, you’ll have to contend with me!" she warned as she
disappeared out the door.
Triona looked from Niall to Maire to Ronan, all of them
bursting into laughter. But their mirth was short-lived when Niall groaned,
Triona slipping from Ronan’s lap to stand beside the bed. "Niall?"
"I’ll fetch the healer," Ronan said, rising
from his chair.
"Aye, hurry, Ronan!" came Maire’s cry.
"No, no, it was the laughing, is all," Niall
tried to calm them, gesturing weakly for Ronan to resume his seat. "I must
have bruised my ribs when I fell off my horse. And the healer’s got enough to
keep him busy from the sound of it. I wasn’t sleeping so hard that I missed
hearing Flann O’Faelin say there were men wounded."
"Aye, but none seriously," said Ronan.
"So tell me what happened—"
"He’s brought a prisoner to Glenmalure is what’s
happened," Triona cut in, moving to the empty chair on the other side of
the bed. "No priest, mind you, just a hostage. Or so I was told."
Triona had been jesting, but she wished she hadn’t said
a word about the prisoner when she glanced at Ronan. His face had taken on a
harsh cast unlike anything she’d ever seen from him, even those times when she’d
made him furious. Nor had she seen his eyes so cold.
"Is this true, brother?" Niall asked. "A
hostage?"
"Aye, a MacMurrough."
Triona shivered at the hatred in Ronan’s voice. But
Niall continued before she could say a word.
"So you rode on Gorey and captured one of the
bastards who attacked me?"
Ronan shook his head. "They would have been
waiting for us, spoiling for a battle, so we went deeper into Wexford instead."
"Then who did you bring back?" Triona’s
curiosity overcame her.
"Kin of Donal MacMurrough."
Triona was astounded, Donal the most powerful chieftain
of the MacMurrough clan. "You attacked his stronghold in Ferns?"
"Aye, I decided the offense against my brother was
worthy of such a strike. And it proved an easy matter, the place no
more well
guarded than a church. Donal MacMurrough should have
thought more of protecting his own rather than riding off to join his precious
Norman king."
Ronan rose to his feet, the matter clearly so
detestable to him that he didn’t seem to want to discuss it further. But Niall
persisted.
"What ransom did you tell them you wanted for this
hostage?"
"Enough grain and cattle to last us for several
winters" — Ronan’s hard expression eased as he glanced meaningfully at
Triona— "and mayhap then I can forgo raiding so often to spend time in
Glenmalure with my new wife."
Warmed by the look in his eyes, Triona nonetheless
couldn’t help bristling. "You make it sound as if I’m going to be waiting
for you at home while you’re traipsing about the countryside, Ronan O’Byrne.
Don’t forget that I’ll be raiding with you."
"Begorra, here we go,"
came
Niall’s low murmur as he laid his head back upon the pillow.
"What do you mean, here we go?" Triona
demanded, her gaze flying from Niall to Ronan. Maire kept her silence. "I
am going to be riding with you, aren’t I? After our marriage?"
When Ronan didn’t readily answer, Triona spun back to
Niall. "So your brother likes me just the way I am, does he? Mayhap you
might want to ask him again, Niall O’Byrne! It seems you might have read him
wrong!"
As furious tears blistered her eyes, Triona raced from
the room before Ronan could stop her, slamming the outer door with all her
strength. Immediately she felt a sharp twinge of guilt, wondering if the noise
had hurt Niall’s aching head or startled Maire, but in the next instant she was
running across the yard as Ronan came out after her.
"Triona!"
She ignored him and kept running, dodging clansmen and
their families who still lingered about the yard. She even went so far as to
spout hoarsely, "If the O’Byrne asks any of you to fetch a priest for him,
don’t bother!" as she headed for their dwelling-house.
But to her dismay when she got inside, there was no
bolt to lock Ronan out. Instead she braced her back against the door as Ronan
butted his shoulder against the stout wood.
"Damnit, woman, do you truly think you’re strong
enough to keep me out?"
Triona shrieked as he leaned into the door, shoving it
open so forcefully that she went tumbling to the floor. Scrambling away from
him on hands and knees, she gulped air when she felt herself being lifted by
her belt, Ronan catching her in his arms.
"You . . . you spawn! Let go of me!" she
cried, fighting harder than she’d ever fought him. But her wild struggling only
got her thrown across his shoulders much as he’d done the first day she came to
Glenmalure, her arms and legs tightly pinned.
Yet that didn’t keep her from shrieking that he
release
her, right up until Ronan dumped her upon his bed.
Her cheeks wet with frustrated tears, she barely had a moment to catch her
breath before he was on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the
mattress before she could make any motion to rise.