Michelle Willingham - Surrender to an Irish Warrior

‘Neither of us will ever be the same. But I’ve chosen to bury my feelings about what happened. I can’t indulge myself in anger or weeping. I have a sister to take care of.’

‘Do you really believe that you can simply forget about what happened?’

‘I don’t have a choice.’

His tone altered, turning gentle. ‘It’s a poison, Morren. It festers inside you, until you think you’re going to go mad.’

She shivered, for there was a truth to his words. Every time she pushed away the nightmares, they only returned stronger than before.

‘I tried to forget and go on with my life,’ he continued. ‘I have a family. Four brothers, all married with children of their own. And every time I looked at them and saw their happiness, I thought of Ciara. She was taken from me, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let the raiders find happiness of their own.’

She pulled away, feeling even colder. ‘Your need for revenge has changed you. Ciara wouldn’t have wanted that.’

Turning her back on him, Morren strode back to the house where she’d left her sister. The autumn air shifted against her hair, sending the cold onto the back of her neck. Behind her, she heard Trahern’s footsteps trailing her. He wouldn’t let her alone, not even for a moment.

Before she reached the house, he said, ‘Morren, wait.’

She stopped walking, but didn’t move to face him. He could say what he wanted, but it wouldn’t change anything.

‘If you intend to stay among the Lochlannach, then I won’t leave. Not until I know you’ll be safe.’

His sense of honour was so strong that she suspected it would be some time before he’d leave her. The thought made her feel even more like a burden. ‘I’m not your obligation. If you stay, it’s for your own reasons. Not because you feel some need to guard me.’

She kept moving forward, but Trahern intercepted her, standing in her path. He looked into her eyes, folding his arms across his chest. ‘You don’t believe you need protection from them?’

‘Not if it’s given by a man who will brood and sulk the entire time. Or tell me that I’d be better off taking my sister some place isolated from everyone.’

The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘I’m not brooding.’

‘You are. And I’ve no doubt that you’d complain at every moment.’

He seemed taken aback, but she didn’t apologise for the truth.

‘You think I’m behaving like a child.’ Without warning, his mouth curved upwards. It was the first time she’d seen him smile, and it transformed him from an angry warrior into a man.

A handsome man, if she were honest. She’d never really thought about it, but Trahern MacEgan was a man who had captured the attentions of many women in her clan, not just Ciara. Months ago, he’d worn his hair and beard long, but now, his shaved head and face were a stark contrast to his grey eyes. The smooth skin sharpened his features, like a honed blade.

And right now, he was staring straight at her with amusement. She didn’t know whether he was silently laughing at her or whether he’d recognised his own faults.

‘I promise not to sulk or complain,’ he said, gesturing for her to walk in front of him. ‘But I still won’t trust the Lochlannach.’

She didn’t doubt that. ‘You have the same purpose, the desire to find those who were responsible for the attack. Despite your suspicions, I know there are men who want to find the raiders, the same as you.’

‘They’ll have to prove themselves first.’ When they returned to the longhouse, he pushed open the door, waiting for her to enter. Morren glanced back at him. Although Trahern was no longer smiling, at least he seemed more relaxed and less likely to kill the next man he saw.

‘Where will you sleep tonight?’ she asked, before they rejoined the others. She saw her sister seated near the Lochlannach chief, but Jilleen appeared uncomfortable. As she walked to them, Gunnar rose to his feet. The Norseman offered an open smile of interest.

Trahern’s hand came down on her shoulder in an unmistakable message. She forced herself not to pull away, though she wanted to. ‘I won’t be leaving your side, Morren. Tonight, I’ll sleep wherever you are.’

Jilleen Ó Reilly was a coward. A weak-minded, self-centred coward, and she hated herself for it.

Though she’d been with the Dalrata people for several days now, she’d allowed them to treat her like a small child. Katla had given her clothes and although she’d brought her among the other girls her age, Jilleen knew she didn’t fit in with them. She was an outsider. Different.

Already they’d branded her as a stranger, and though they’d said nothing impolite, she sensed their distance. And why would they want to befriend an Irish girl? She wasn’t one of them and never would be. Although there were some ties among the married women, it didn’t matter so much now. After the raid, few of her people lived. Hardly more than a dozen, it seemed.

The horror of that night washed over her, and her stomach wrenched into twisted knots. She wished she could just close her eyes and shut out every memory. She’d seen what the men had done to her sister, and hatred burned through her veins while she’d watched.

Not just for what they’d done to Morren, but also hatred at herself. She’d hidden in the trees, instead of going for help. She’d done nothing to stop the men, and that made her the worst coward of all.

Tonight, seeing Morren among the others, she knew that her sister had changed. Still shy, of course, but Morren no longer smiled. Jilleen couldn’t help but blame herself. If she hadn’t allowed herself to be caught, none of this would have happened.

She would make up for it somehow. The fervent need to atone for Morren’s suffering overshadowed everything else.

Jilleen’s gaze settled upon Trahern MacEgan. The giant had frightened her at first, the night she’d found him. But she’d remembered his storytelling, and the kind way about him. From the moment she’d seen him, she’d known he could help Morren with the fever.

And so he had. He’d protected her, and she saw the way he watched over Morren, even now.

Though Jilleen had never been much of a matchmaker, if she helped put them together, there was a strong chance that Trahern would take care of Morren.

Maybe that would make up for her cowardice.

Maybe.

‘We’re going to meet tonight to discuss the attack,’ Gunnar said, when the crowd had begun to dissipate. ‘Áron thought you would want to attend.’

At the mention of Ciara’s brother, Trahern tensed. He hadn’t seen Áron, hadn’t known that he’d returned. Áron wasn’t among the other Ó Reillys, and it struck him as strange that the man hadn’t greeted them.

He glanced back at Morren, who answered his unspoken question. ‘Go with Gunnar. I’ll be fine with Jilleen.’

‘I don’t want you unguarded.’

‘She can stay with Katla,’ Gunnar offered. ‘My brother’s wife will keep her safe.’

Trahern had no doubt of that. He imagined the Norsewoman would wield a spear against any man who threatened someone under her protection.

‘It’s all right, Trahern. You may as well go with them and find the answers you’re seeking.’

He would have preferred it if Morren came with him, but she was looking pale. It was best if she got some rest. He also wanted the healer to look over her in the morning, to be sure she hadn’t suffered unduly from the miscarriage.

‘I’ll be back later tonight,’ he promised.

‘I know you will.’ She lifted her eyes to his, and they were a steady, deep blue. Although she didn’t appear confident, she put on the appearance of bravery.