Surrender to an Irish Warrior. Michelle Willingham

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘You haven’t the right.’

      ‘I’m the only man who’s shown any concern for them, so aye, I have the right.’ He wasn’t going to let a sharp-tongued Norsewoman badger him.

      ‘Stubborn brute of an Irishman,’ she cursed, trying to shut the door on him.

      ‘That, and more.’ He didn’t back down, but met her fierce brown eyes with his own, keeping the door open with the strength of one thigh. ‘No harm will come to them.’

      Morren had risen to her feet, sleepy-eyed, her fair hair neatly braided. ‘It’s all right, Katla. He can stay.’

      ‘And what about the others? They’ve no need to be bothered by a man such as him.’

      Morren touched Katla’s shoulder. ‘Trahern would do nothing to hurt any of the women. But if you’d rather, I will go elsewhere to sleep.’

      Something knotted up inside him at her quiet offer to stay at his side. Her trust in him was unexpected, humbling even.

      Katla stared at both of them, sending Trahern a heated look of disapproval. Pointing to the far end of the longhouse, she ordered, ‘Stay on that side, then.’

      Trahern waited until the woman had reached the opposite side before approaching Morren. He eyed her carefully, wondering if she wanted him to leave. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

      ‘I wasn’t truly sleeping,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t like to dream.’

      He didn’t press her to answer why. ‘Do you want me to go? I’ll sleep outside if it would make you more comfortable.’

      ‘Don’t be foolish. It may freeze tonight. And what good are you, if you’re dead?’

      Her macabre remark made it hard not to smile. ‘Are you certain?’

      She nodded and patted the ground beside her. ‘Sit with me and tell me what you learned from the others.’

      In a low voice, he relayed all of the information to her, but left out any mention of Adham. Though he didn’t know the man, he distrusted him for leaving Morren behind. He also wondered what feelings she held for Adham, if any.

      ‘They’re going back to the cashel in the morning,’ he told her, ‘to rebuild the homes. Do you want to come?’

      Morren hesitated. ‘Will you go?’

      He gave a nod. ‘I had planned to, yes. I want to speak with the other Ó Reilly men about the attack.’ He softened his tone, suddenly aware of the dark memories Glen Omrigh would hold for her. ‘But if you’d rather remain here—’

      ‘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 СКАЧАТЬ