Warriors of Ireland

Fighting for honour and for love

In this powerful new duet by Michelle Willingham step back in time to medieval Ireland, where proud men were willing to die for honour and for the ones they loved—although not without a fight!

Fans of The MacEgan Brothers mini-series will meet some familiar faces along the way, but prepare to have your hearts captured by two new fierce warriors!

Meet Killian MacDubh in

Warrior of Ice

And meet Raine de Garenne in

Warrior of Fire

Both stories available now!

Author Note

Warrior of Fire continues the Beauty and the Beast theme, with a beautiful woman seeking shelter in a ruined abbey. Carice Faoilin is dying, but she will stop at nothing to break free of an unwanted marriage—even if it means striking a bargain with a Norman beast.

Raine de Garenne is a haunted man, tormented by his past … and yet Carice awakens a burning desire that sears him to the bone.

I hope you’ll enjoy this forbidden love story between a woman craving freedom and a man forced to betray her. Also look for the first book in this mini-series, Warrior of Ice, which tells the story of Lady Taryn and Killian MacDubh, Carice’s ‘adopted’ brother.

If you’d like me to email you when I have a new book out, please visit my website at michellewillingham.com to sign up for my newsletter. You can also learn more about my other historical romances and see photos of my trips to Ireland.

Warrior of Fire

Michelle Willingham

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RITA® Award finalist MICHELLE WILLINGHAM has written over twenty historical romances, novellas and short stories. Currently she lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. When she’s not writing Michelle enjoys reading, baking and avoiding exercise at all costs. Visit her website at: michellewillingham.com

For Lori Yankoski, with thanks for being a good friend and for sharing the gift of your music.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Final Author Note

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Ireland, 1172

Carice Faoilin was not afraid to die.

She had been sick for so long, she didn’t know how it felt to be an ordinary woman any more. She didn’t remember what it was to awaken without pain, to walk in the sunlight and enjoy each day as it was given. Most days, she stared at the walls, confined to her bed because she was too weak to move.

Until now.

In a matter of days, soldiers had invaded her home, demanding that she fulfil her delayed betrothal contract. She was ordered to accompany them to wed the High King of Éireann, Rory Ó Connor. The Ard-Righ had a brutal reputation, and few women wanted to wed him, herself included.

Perhaps she should have gone meekly, obeying the High King’s orders as a woman should. But then, Carice had never been the obedient sort. She wouldn’t have agreed to the betrothal, had her ambitious father given her a choice.

She was not going to lie back and offer herself up as the sacrificial lamb—even if this escape attempt killed her. And it very well might.

Each footstep felt leaden as she struggled to disappear into the dark forest. She’d chosen a long branch to use as a walking stick while she made her escape. A small voice inside her warned her, You don’t have the strength to reach shelter. You’re going to die tonight.

She silenced the voice. She had lived with the prospect of dying for so long, what did it matter any more? Worrying about it wouldn’t change anything. Instead, she preferred to fight for every breath, living each day as if it were her last.

Although today might be her last day if she didn’t find shelter soon.

With every step she took, the air seemed to grow colder. There was snow upon the breath of the wind, and Carice huddled within her cloak, leaning heavily upon the staff. Her feet were half-frozen, and her fingers were numb. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking, but she prayed to find a warm place to sleep. Please let there be shelter somewhere close by.

Her prayer was answered when she reached the far side of the forest and ventured into an open field. Just near the horizon, the moon illuminated a fortress with a tall limestone wall surrounding it.

When she drew closer, she realised it was an abbey, not a fortress. Never had she visited this place, though it was only a few days’ journey from Carrickmeath, her home. But tonight, it was her best hope for shelter.

I don’t know if I can make it that far, her body reasoned. Every muscle in her body ached, she was starving, and the distance appeared vast.

If you don’t keep going, you’ll freeze, her brain reminded her. And death by freezing didn’t sound very pleasant. She had to keep moving, especially since she’d made it this far.

Carice continued walking across the snowy meadow, counting the steps as she did. Though her legs were shaking from exertion, she forced herself to keep going. While she walked, she hoped that the monks who dwelled within the abbey would grant her a place to sleep and a warm fire. Or, at the very least, a place to collapse from exhaustion.

It was the promise of getting warm that kept her walking. Snowflakes began descending from the sky, the barest drifting flurries.

Just a little farther, she told herself. Don’t stop.

When she reached the abbey, strangely, the gate was open. A crow cawed at her arrival swooping down to inspect her presence. Inside the grounds, the scent of smoke lingered like a harsh memory. A fire had ravaged the outbuildings, and the battered stone structures were charred and lay in ruins. Another building nearby was in better condition, but it, too, had visible damage, along with the nearby roundtower that was missing its roof.

‘Is anyone here?’ she called out.

There came no answer, no sound at all. She walked through the open space, her feet crunching within the wet snow. Near the cemetery, she spied four freshly dug graves. Snow covered the earthen mounds, and she crossed herself at the sight. A chill crossed over her spine as she wondered what had happened here. Were all the monks dead from the fire? Clearly, the abbey had been abandoned.

Carice walked up the stairs leading to the main sanctuary. There was no wooden door remaining, and inside, the chapel was dark and cold. At least it was better than remaining outside, she reasoned. The fire had not reached the inner sanctuary, for the scent of smoke diminished as soon as she walked inside the space. At one end, there was an altar with a larger chair beside it. Spider webs lined the corners of the walls, and a savoury aroma caught Carice’s attention.

It was the faintest scent of food, like a roasted fowl. Someone had been here recently. She spied bones upon the floor and her stomach growled at the thought of a hot meal. It seemed that she could never satiate the endless hunger tormenting her. She pushed back the cravings and called out again, ‘Is anyone here?’

But there was still no answer.

This time, she began exploring a narrow hallway at the back of the sanctuary that opened into a spiral staircase. She guessed that it likely led towards the abbot’s private chambers. Since there had been food scraps left behind, then there might be someone sleeping above stairs.

Her skin prickled with a rise of nerves. It wasn’t wise for a woman to approach a stranger, alone with no guard. But she had no alternative. Right now, her body was reaching the end of its strength. She needed to rest before she could continue her journey, for it was the only way she would survive what lay ahead.

Carice steadied herself before climbing the narrow stairs. After the sixth step, she had to sit for a moment to calm the dizziness. She listened hard for the sound of anyone, but only silence met her ears.

It will be all right, she told herself. If the abbot was here, surely he would find a place for her to sleep. And if he was not, then she would remain in his chambers until dawn. She reached deep inside her for the last of her strength. She crawled up the remaining stairs, struggling to reach the top. The stone floor was cold beneath her hands and feet, and she fought to stand once more.

Carice leaned heavily upon the wall, stumbling towards the first room. Inside the chamber, she spied a narrow bed with rumpled coverings upon it. The curtains were drawn back and hot coals lay upon the hearth, as if there had been a fire recently.

A trace of fear crept over her, but Carice was too tired to care any more. If there was someone here who intended to harm her, there was nothing she could do about it. She lacked the strength to move.

Exhausted, she stumbled towards the bed, seeking its comfort. She huddled beneath the woollen coverlet, so grateful for a place to sleep. It didn’t matter if someone had been here before her, or if they were still here. Nothing mattered except being warm and sheltered.

But as she drifted off, Carice sensed a presence in the room...almost as if someone was watching over her.

* * *

The woman sleeping on his bed was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. From the moment he’d heard her enter the abbey, Raine de Garenne had watched over her from the spiral stairs, remaining in the shadows while she had explored the sanctuary. He didn’t know why she was here, but it was clear she was alone.

Fragile, too, like a snowflake upon his palm. She had collapsed after reaching his room, and now she was sharing the very bed he’d slept within.

Why had she intruded within this place? He remained standing in the shadows against the far wall until he was certain she was asleep. The room was growing colder since the peat fire he’d lit earlier was dying down.

He added more fuel to the hearth until the fire grew hot. The dim light illuminated her features better. Her long dark hair was not black as he’d imagined, but a warmer brown with hints of gold and red. It hung to her waist, and her skin was pale against the coverlet. How had she come to the abbey, and why was she alone? He couldn’t imagine anyone leaving a woman like her unguarded, unless they had died trying to protect her.

His mood grew sombre as he thought of his own failings. You should have died for Nicole and Elise, his conscience taunted. You should have sacrificed your life for theirs. He was haunted by his sisters’ fate even two years later. He’d believed he could get close to them and free them from captivity by joining King Henry’s soldiers. Instead, he had been sent to fight with the Irish Sea separating them. He should have known that the king’s men would never let him remain near his family.

But there was no means of unravelling the past, no reason to dwell upon the bitter memories now. Nothing would change his sisters’ captivity until he carried out the king’s orders. He would return to his commander just after dawn, and if he succeeded in his task, he might win their freedom.

Raine held fast to the thought, for it was the only shred of hope remaining.

Now, he questioned what to do about the woman. Raine pulled a chair beside the fire, considering his choices. She didn’t belong in the abbey any more than he did. He rested his forearms upon his knees, and the amber firelight revealed a long scar—a visible reminder of the battles he’d faced. Most of his scars and burned flesh were hidden beneath his chain mail armour, the cost of survival.

He stared into the fire, knowing he had no right to live. As a soldier, he’d stolen countless souls from the earth. He ought to feel guilty about their deaths, but he didn’t. There was a stony sense of emptiness where his heart had once been. His sisters’ lives depended upon his obedience. He was chained to this life of a Norman soldier that he didn’t want, and he would continue to fight until he had earned back their freedom or he died. He had put aside any dreams he might have held for his own future, for he deserved this prison after failing to save his parents.

Mercenary, some had called him. A heartless murderer, the Irish would say. His soul was already damned, according to the priests, and he regretted nothing. As long as his sisters were alive and whole, none of it mattered.

Raine moved to stand beside the young woman, and her scent caught his attention. The air of innocence surrounded her, and her face was soft like a spring morning. It was doubtful that this woman had ever touched a weapon in her life.

He leaned down, reaching to touch a lock of her hair. It was not a heavy silk like other women he had known. No, it was fragile, like her—tangled and damp from the journey. As he studied her more closely, he realised how very thin she was, half-starved and frail. This was not a woman who had missed a meal or two. She was fighting for her life.

He’d seen folk who had starved to death before, men and women alike. And although he shouldn’t care what happened to a stranger, he felt an invisible force drawing him closer. She needed someone to watch over her, someone to take care of her—the way he wanted someone to protect his sisters.

His mood darkened as he went to fetch her another blanket from the chest. He laid it over her, and she moved slightly, snuggling close within the blanket.

Dieu, how long had she been walking outside? He thought about awakening her but decided to let her sleep. She looked exhausted from her journey. He adjusted the blanket and touched her hair once again. His questions could wait until morning.

Raine lit a torch in the hearth and then left the room, closing the door to keep in the heat. He walked down the stairs and through the sanctuary. Although the worship space was untouched by fire, he could feel the presence of the holy men...and their screams haunted him still.

He blamed himself for their deaths, for being unable to save them. The devastating fire had claimed the lives of every man, and he’d been granted only a few days’ leave to bury the bodies.

Raine walked outside to the kitchen, needing a distraction. He had eaten his own meal hours ago, and the truth was, he knew very little about cooking. Among the Norman soldiers, his food consisted of hunting meat and roasting it. However, the monks who had once lived here had root vegetables stored underground before they’d been attacked. He supposed he could find something for the woman to eat.

He paused, feeling like a thief. But dead men had no need of food, he reminded himself. There was no bread, but he found dried meat he didn’t recognise, parsnips, and some walnuts. Would she like any of it? He wasn’t certain, but it would have to suffice. Raine started to gather it up in a bundle, but then he stopped short.

What in the name of the Rood was he doing? Bringing her food and blankets as if she were a treasured guest? She was a stranger and an intruder. He ought to awaken her and demand to know why she was here. There was no reason to let her stay.

Raine seized the food and strode through the kitchens, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t know this woman. He didn’t know anything about her except that she was dangerously weak, and the sight of her stole his breath.

It was an undeniable fact that she would die if he turned her away. And the last thing he wanted was one more death on his conscience.

But he could save her.

Raine slowed his pace back to the donjon, letting out a low curse. He knew what would happen to a beautiful woman travelling alone, if he forced her to go. He bit back a curse at the thought.

She’s not your responsibility. You must return to your commander and your duties.

He knew that. But when he entered the sanctuary and climbed the stairs bearing the bundle of food, he couldn’t stop thinking about his sisters. They were alone in England, hostages of the king. Was anyone protecting them? Or were they at a stranger’s mercy, like this woman was?

No, she was not his to protect. But neither would he abandon her. He had finished burying the holy men, and before he returned to his commander and the other soldiers, he could bring her to safety. At least then he would know that she had come to no harm.

Raine pushed the door open, and the chamber was warm and inviting. The peat fire glowed upon the hearth, casting shadows within the room. A simple cross hung upon one wall, and beside the hearth was a wooden chair. The woman was sleeping within his bed, her breathing deep and even. He moved silently, setting the food down on a low table before returning to the shadows.

Raine knew he should be resentful that this woman had stolen his bed. Instead he felt...grateful that he could give her a place to sleep. There was the sense that he could watch her sleep, all night long, and he would enjoy the peace upon her face.

She stirred a moment, and he remained against the far wall out of the light. But a moment later, she sat up in the bed. Her long brown hair hung over her shoulders, and her eyes opened. They were a clear blue, like a summer sky. A sudden wariness crossed over him, for she was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Which meant that her presence would be missed, and men would pursue her.

‘I know you’re there,’ she said quietly. ‘You built the fire up while I was sleeping.’

She spoke in Irish, and for once, he was thankful that he’d learned their language. He understood her, although he had difficulty speaking beyond a handful of words. Though he had lived in Éireann for more than two years, he said nothing, not wanting to frighten her. And yet, he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask this woman. Who she was...why she was here.

After a time, she asked, ‘Do you intend to harm me?’ There was weariness in her voice as if she hardly cared anymore.

‘No,’ he said. ‘You are safe.’ He said nothing else, letting her draw whatever conclusions she would—though his armour made it clear that he was not a monk.

‘You are a Norman soldier,’ she predicted, studying his appearance.

‘Je suis.’ There was no reason to deny it, particularly when her gaze had settled upon the conical helm he had set aside.

She let out a slow breath and surprised him by switching into his own language. ‘Will you come into the light, so that I may see you?’

He didn’t want her to see his face. Let her think of him as one of hundreds of nameless soldiers, men easily forgotten. If she never saw him, it would be easier for him to fade from her memory. He wanted no one to remember him, no one to know who he was. It was the only way he could protect himself from being recognised—especially if he succeeded in the task his commander had set before him.

‘I will remain here,’ he answered in his own language. ‘You may sleep in peace, and I will watch over you for the night.’

She stiffened at that. ‘And what is it you’re wanting from me in return?’

He had no expectations of her, but simply answered, ‘Tell me your name.’

She seemed to relax at his request, recognising that he had no intention of harming her. ‘I am Carice Faoilin, of Carrickmeath. And you?’

‘I am Raine de Garenne.’ The name would mean nothing to her, he was certain.

She pulled the coverlet higher and asked, ‘Are you alone here?’

‘I am.’ At least for now. It was likely that other priests and holy men might come to view the damage when they received word of the fire. By then, he intended to be gone.

‘Why? Where are the rest of your men?’

‘I will join them in the morning. I stopped here only for a short while.’ But he would not tell her all of his reasons.

Instead he said, ‘There is food and drink, should you want them. I bid you adieu.’ He kept his hood over his head to shield his appearance from her, departing the room before she could ask more questions.

* * *

The next morning, Carice awakened in a strange bed. The sheets held the unfamiliar scent of a man’s body. It was like being entangled with someone else, though she knew she had slept alone. And although bits of memory returned, making her realise where she was, she felt an intimacy with the man whose bed she had shared.

Raine had kept his word not to harm her, and she had slept soundly, feeling safer than she had in years—which made no sense at all. Slowly, she sat up, holding the bed coverlet close. It was always difficult to stay warm, and she was never comfortable any more—not really.

But strangely, the night of rest had renewed her strength. She eased her legs to the side of the bed and saw the food and drink waiting near the fire. There was also a basin of water upon the floor near the hearth. Curious, she eased out of bed and walked slowly towards the waiting chair. She sank down upon it and then reached out to the basin of water. Steam rose on the surface, and she realised then, that he’d heated it for her.

Her heart stumbled at that. When she touched the water, the heat made her sigh with pleasure. How had he known when she would awaken? She eased off her stockings on impulse and placed her freezing feet into the warmed water.

Bliss sank through her, and she smiled as the heat overtook her. Though she knew nothing about Raine de Garenne, he had sensed her needs and cared for her in a way she’d never anticipated.

The food was meagre, only a bit of dried meat, walnuts, and raw parsnips. But she recognised the offering for what it was—the best he had to give. She ate the meat and walnuts, and was deeply grateful when her stomach did not ache at the food.

At Carrickmeath, the constant nausea and stomach difficulties had been neverending. Only after she’d left, had her aches diminished. It had made her wonder if someone had been trying to poison her in her father’s house. She couldn’t understand why, if that were true. There was no reason for anyone to harm her—she had no power at all within the tribe. Although she was betrothed to the High King, her death would accomplish nothing.

But since she’d left, each day had become a little easier. At least now when she ate, she didn’t feel as if knives were carving up her insides. Perhaps it was the taste of freedom that made food more tolerable.

Carice had just reached for the parsnip, when her door opened. In the daylight, she got a better glimpse of Raine, though he was still wearing the hood to hide his features. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered like a fighter. He wore chain mail armour with a leather corselet and a long sword hung sheathed at his waist. Under one arm, he carried his conical helm.

Why did he continue to hide his face? She was curious about this man and the mysteries surrounding him.

‘Thank you for the warm water. And for the food,’ she said, speaking the Norman tongue. ‘I am sorry. I should have saved you some, but I fear there’s only a parsnip—’ She held up the white root vegetable apologetically, but he dismissed her offer.

‘It was meant for you,’ he countered. ‘I’ve already eaten.’ He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at her.

It made her uncomfortable, and Carice asked, ‘Won’t you sit, then?’

And remove your hood so that I may see your face, she thought to herself. He was clearly hiding his identity, though she could not guess why.

‘Where are your escorts?’ he asked. ‘Who was guarding you?’

She removed her feet from the basin of water and dried them with the hem of her gown before replacing her shoes. ‘No one. I was running away.’

‘From whom?’

Carice sent him a half-smile. ‘My father was escorting me to my wedding. I am betrothed to the High King of Éireann.’ She remarked, ‘I suppose you’ll want to turn me over to them for a reward. They would pay handsomely for my safe return.’ Most men would be eager to hand her over for the promise of silver or gold. But she rather hoped that he would leave her alone.

Raine paused a moment before his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. ‘It’s more likely that your father would kill me, believing I was the one who took you.’

His candour revealed a man of intelligence. ‘That is indeed possible.’ She straightened the hem of her gown and stood up from the chair. ‘If you would help me to disappear where they’ll never find me, I could compensate you for your assistance.’

He didn’t move as she took a step closer. Then another.

‘Please consider it,’ she said softly, reaching towards his hood.

His hands seized her wrists, drawing them downward. His grip was firm, almost bruising. ‘I have other duties more important than you, chérie.’

Carice drew back, startled by his refusal. ‘I don’t doubt that. But I was only asking for your help.’

She tried to pull away, but he held her wrists fast, as if he had more to say. His silence made it clear that he wasn’t going to help her escape. Her nerves took control, and she continued talking too fast.

‘Trahern MacEgan was supposed to help me leave last night, but he never arrived. I had no choice but to run, while we were still far away from Tara.’

Raine gave no response. Slowly, his thumbs edged the pulse point of her wrists, the heat of his touch burning through her. Why did he continue to hold her hands? Carice stilled, and the caress moved through her like a wave of yearning.

Her heartbeat quickened, and his fingers laced with hers. Never had any man touched her in this way, and her mind envisioned his hands moving over her bare flesh. Upon his forearms, she saw the evidence of scarring, the healed wounds of battle. Perhaps his face held the same. Was that why he would not reveal himself?

She took an unsteady breath, and said, ‘I don’t know if anyone will come for me or not.’

‘I know of the MacEgans,’ Raine said at last. ‘I will look for Trahern and bring him back if he is nearby. But soon, you must leave.’ He let go of her hands, and the heat of his palms remained upon her skin.

Her heart was pounding, and she turned her back. ‘What if you cannot find him? Am I to go on alone?’

‘My duties lie elsewhere. I cannot accompany you.’

There was another reason; she could sense it. ‘What duties?’ she demanded. ‘There are no other soldiers here. You are alone.’

‘For now,’ he acceded. ‘But I am under the command of King Henry,’ he said. There was a hint of darkness in his tone, and he added, ‘His Grace has given me his orders, and those I must obey.’

In a crumbling abbey? Although he had no reason to lie to her, his words made little sense. Her thoughts drifted back to the fresh graves she had seen. Had he been ordered to burn the abbey and kill the monks? Was that why he’d been sent here? She swallowed hard, not wanting to believe it. ‘A king would have no interest in a place like this.’

His posture stiffened, and she took a step backwards. ‘You know not King Henry’s orders, chérie. And you do not know me.’

He was trying to frighten her, she was certain. And perhaps he was a ruthless fighter and the king’s man. But then...he had brought her food and warmed water. These were not the actions of a cruel man. She sensed that he was here for a very different reason.

‘You are right,’ she agreed. ‘But you showed me kindness, for which I am grateful.’ She nodded towards the hearth where the basin of water remained.

Again, he held his silence for a time. Carice didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t truly want to know what had happened in this place—or Raine’s part in it. She took a step towards the hearth, and the motion unsettled her. Despite the food she’d eaten, the effects of her illness began to set in.

Her ears rang as the dizziness swept over her. She rested her palm against the wall, trying to take steady breaths. Please, not now. Not when she had come so far. The tide of weakness washed over her, stealing away her vision.

‘What is it?’ he asked quietly.

She turned to Raine, but his hooded features blurred. The room spun, and her hand slipped against the wall.

She cursed herself, knowing she wasn’t going to make it to the bed. A moment later, her knees collapsed, sending the world into blackness.

* * *

Raine barely caught the young woman before she fainted. One moment Carice was speaking, and the next, she dropped like a stone. He carried her over to the bed, bothered by how light she was. His mouth set into a line as he lowered her to the mattress. Despite his demand for her to leave, she was incapable of making any journey, as weak as she was. And unless he left her behind, he wasn’t going to meet his commander on the morrow.

Her face was the colour of snow, and he didn’t know the nature of her illness. He poured a cup of wine for her and waited for her to regain consciousness. It took a moment, but when her eyes fluttered open, he saw the fear in them.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I wasn’t feeling well.’

‘You need to return to your family,’ he said, ‘where they can take better care of you.’

‘Where I’ll be sent to wed a man old enough to be my father.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve no wish for that.’

‘It’s what marriages are,’ he told her. ‘Nothing more than an alliance.’

‘I am going to die, Raine. My time grows short, and I do not wish to spend my last months wedded to a monster.’

The urge to deny it came to his lips, but he could see the fragility in her body. The weariness there was more than exhaustion from a journey.

‘I have been ill for years now,’ she said. ‘And each day is worse than the next.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Surely you can understand that I would prefer to die as a free woman.’ A wistful look crossed her face. ‘The day will come when I cannot bear to live in this pain any longer. And then it will end.’

‘Is it a wasting sickness, then?’ He had seen men and women die in such ways before.

A twisted smile came over her. ‘In a manner of speaking. I can hardly eat without becoming sick.’ She leaned back and stretched her arm over her head. It brought the curve of her breasts to his attention. Oui, she was thin. But he wondered what she would look like if her body were filled out with plumpness.

‘Is it always this way?’ Undoubtedly her illness had caused her to collapse. But he had never heard of a wasting sickness that involved food—unless it was poison of some kind.

‘Usually it’s worse,’ she admitted. ‘But this meal was small, and sometimes that helps.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘You may as well remove your hood, you know. I saw your face when you were leaning down over me.’

He ignored her, for it might have been a ploy. ‘It is better if you do not see my face.’ Though she might not have a memory of him, it seemed wiser to remain shadowed—especially when he’d been ordered to kill her betrothed husband, the High King of Éireann.

‘I would still know you, even if I hadn’t glimpsed your face.’

Her response surprised him, and he couldn’t help but ask, ‘How?’

‘Because of your voice,’ she murmured. ‘I would know you from the moment you spoke.’ Her eyes opened then. ‘Your voice is deep and low, almost wild.’

He was unnerved by what she’d said. Her words cast a spell over him, drawing him nearer. No woman had ever had this effect, stirring his senses in the way she did. He wanted to rest his hand on either side of her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her, learning the shape of her mouth.

Instead, he said gruffly, ‘Rest now. I will return later.’

He needed to hunt, to bring back food for both of them. And while he was away, he could search for the MacEgan man she had spoken of.

A grimness settled over him, for he had met the MacEgans in battle before. Later, their king, Patrick MacEgan, had married a Norman bride. While there might be peace between their people now, Raine knew to never underestimate the power of Irish loyalty.

‘If anyone comes, bolt the door,’ he warned. He didn’t like leaving her defenceless, but there was no choice. He had to bring back more food to nourish Lady Carice, despite the risks. Though her illness had likely caused her to faint, he also didn’t believe she’d eaten enough.

After he departed the chamber, he went down the stairs and returned outside. As he cast a look back at the ruins, a sense of guilt passed over him. He felt responsible for the brethren who had lived within these walls. The abbot and the holy men were innocent, blameless for what had happened. The raiders had been seeking holy treasures, and they had set the abbey on fire during the attack.

The moment he’d witnessed the flames against the night sky, he should have ridden hard to reach the men instead of alerting his commander. The delay had meant the difference between life and death.

Raine stopped before one of the graves, brushing the snow from the simple wooden cross he’d made. For a moment, he rested his hand upon the wood, feeling the rise of anger. He’d been too late. Although he’d tried to help the monks escape, their quarters had been consumed by flames and he’d nearly burned to death himself. Had it not been for one of the brethren dragging him out of the fire, he would not have survived. And then that monk had died, too.

The raw ache flooded through him. He hadn’t been able to save these men any more than his sisters—and he could sense the ghosts of their disapproval haunting his conscience.

The air was cold, and it was near to Imbolc, the Irish feast of Saint Brighid. Raine returned to the stables to prepare a horse. He wondered if his commander, Sir Darren de Carleigh, would send men to bring him back. It had taken a great deal of convincing for the man to grant him leave. He suspected that Darren had only allowed it because he recognised the need to bury the bodies—and because it was a means of doing penance.

The two days Raine had spent here alone had given him a false sense of peace. His soul was already damned, but at least he could give the monks a proper burial. He glanced back at the chapel, wondering what to do about Lady Carice. Her very presence had tangled up his plans—but not in the way she imagined. His conscience warned that he should leave her alone...but there was no doubt she could be of use to him.

He took a bow and arrows, then rode out into the forest, moving deeper into the stillness. The morning air was cool, and there were no sounds at all—not even birds. Their lack of noise made him wary. The shadows of the trees hung over him, while golden light skimmed the tops of the bare branches. Raine drew his horse to a stop and dismounted. Nocking an arrow to his bow, he paused, searching for the source of the tension. Frost rimmed the dry leaves, and he moved with stealth.

There. He spied a small group of men on the far side of the wood. Perhaps a dozen intruders, most on horseback. He didn’t know if they were searching for Carice, but he intended to find out why they were here. Silently, he gave his horse a light push, sending the animal out of the woods and back to the abbey. Then he moved in closer, climbing a tree to get a better glimpse of them.

One was carrying the High King’s banner, and he saw another older man whose face appeared grim. The Irish soldiers broke off into smaller groups, searching the forest—most likely for Carice.

She’d wanted her freedom and had fought with all of her strength to flee these men and reach the sanctuary of the abbey. If he wanted to be rid of her, all he had to do was bring them to her.

Yet, that wasn’t at all what he wanted. He didn’t know why a possessive urge had come over him, but he could not allow her to fall into the hands of these men. He had failed, time and again, to save innocent people from being harmed. Carice would face punishment for daring to run, and he didn’t want that to happen.

This time, he would succeed in protecting an innocent life.

An insidious voice within him prompted, Or you could use her to get close to the High King.

He shut down the thought, for his own purposes didn’t matter. What mattered was protecting the lady from being recaptured—for if those men reached the abbey, they would find her within moments.

Unless he intervened.

The best way to keep her free of these men was to hide all traces of her. Raine climbed down from the tree, hurrying back to the outskirts. They would find his tracks and follow him, but he had an advantage. He knew the abbey well, after spending days here. He also knew of the secret passageways between the walls, for the abbot had left one of them open. Most of the alcoves were so narrow, his shoulders brushed against both sides of the walls—but no one would find them.

When Raine reached the clearing, he found his horse and swung up, riding hard for the abbey.The only thing that mattered now was protecting her.

And in this, he would not fail.

Chapter Two

Carice awoke to the sound of her chamber door being thrown open. Raine de Garenne stood there, his hood down at last. Why? He’d gone to such lengths to conceal himself that she’d begun to think he was scarred or disfigured in some way. Instead, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.

His dark golden hair was cut short against his head, his face clean-shaven. His eyes were a deep green, his mouth a firm slash. There was a quiet sense of determination about him, an air of command that gave her confidence. She had lied before when she’d claimed she had seen his face. But now that she saw him, she felt a rush of self-consciousness.

Before Carice could say anything, he dumped sand upon the fire, extinguishing it immediately. Then he crossed over to the bed and pulled back the coverlet. ‘Come with me,’ he commanded, lifting her into his arms.

‘Where? What is happening?’ Her pulse quickened with fear as he strode towards the wall.

‘The High King’s men have come for you. And I suspect your father is with them.’

Dear God. Then they had tracked her here, as she’d feared. If they found her, they would force her to continue towards Tara, the dwelling of the Ard-Righ. She couldn’t bear the thought.

But Raine’s strength was comforting, and she rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the cool links of the chain mail armour he wore. It was a tangible reminder that he was a soldier, a man fully capable of guarding her.

He led her to the back corner, where a simple cross hung upon the wall. After setting her down, he seized the cross and pushed hard. A chunk of stones the size of a window moved inward, revealing an opening just large enough for her to climb inside.

She wanted to ask questions about how he’d known of such a place, but Raine’s swiftness revealed the need to remain silent. He lifted her into the space, and she found herself within a narrow corridor hidden behind the wall.

He stood upon the bed and swung one leg, then the other, into the opening, before setting the stone and cross back into place. Darkness enveloped them, and she kept both palms upon either wall, trying to ignore the cold. Her body shuddered, her teeth chattering.

‘Your hood,’ she started to ask, but he drew his arm around her waist and touched a finger to her lips.

‘I need you to trust me.’ He spoke in a low whisper against her ear. She supposed that was the reason why he had revealed his identity. Though she didn’t understand why he had wanted to remain hidden, now it seemed those plans had changed.

She obeyed his command, moving in closer to draw warmth from his body. He stiffened when she put both of her arms around his waist. She was so tired, so weak, but this was the only way to stop herself from trembling.

He brought her closer, surrounding her in an embrace. The moment her body was pressed against his, it was like an awakening. She grew aware of his hard, muscled body and the masculine scent of him. His strong arms made her feel protected, and it dissipated the fear.

The heat of his body was welcome, and she snuggled in close. His mouth rested against her hair, and she felt a subtle shift in the way he was holding her. It was as if he were conscious of the way they fit against one another. She stood between his legs, and against her body, she felt the sudden rise of his arousal.

Carice knew she ought to move away. It was a natural reaction of a man to desire a woman—especially when their bodies were so close. But instead of being afraid, she found that she was responding to his touch. She rested her cheek against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. This man could have harmed her many times over, yet he’d not laid a hand upon her, except to guard and protect.

Curiosity wove a web of interest, and she grew more aware of him. It was a good feeling to be in a man’s arms. And though he was a stranger, she liked what she’d seen. Most maidens would be shy and awkward in such close proximity. But her own opinions had changed over the years.

No longer did she care about what was expected of her. She’d grown so weak, and the knowledge of her impending death gave her a courage that she’d never anticipated. This man had kindled an unexpected need, and she wanted to know more.

The chamber door suddenly flew open, and she gripped him tightly, out of shock. Men entered the room, and she heard her father’s voice.

‘I want her found. This is the closest shelter to our camp, and she must have been here.’

‘She might have,’ one of the men remarked. ‘But if she did, she’s gone now.’

In the darkness, Carice sensed Raine’s tension. He was listening to every word, his hands tight around her waist. Whether or not he would admit it to himself, his sudden choice to hide them was the action of a man who would not hand her over to her father. She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling so grateful for his protection.

He stroked back her hair, still holding her close. And the longer he held her, the more she wanted to explore these unknown feelings. She had never been in a man’s embrace, for her father had threatened all the men of the tribe. They would not dare to defy Brian Faoilin or touch his daughter.

But this was her life now, and she could make her own choices. In the darkness, she reached up to Raine’s face, touching his cheek. She explored the smooth surface, fascinated by him. He caught her hand and drew her fingers back to her lips in a silent warning to be still and silent.

The risk of being discovered was far too high. She knew that—and yet, she was tempted to seize a moment to herself. He was only going to push her away as soon as they were out of hiding. She wanted to embrace every last chance to live, even if it was pushing beyond what was right. Raine would never understand her need to reach out for all the moments remaining.

This man intrigued her, for he was a living contradiction. He was both fierce and benevolent, like a warrior priest. And though he claimed to be a Norman loyal to King Henry, she knew he was a man of secrets.

His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, his face revealing hard planes. A sudden heat rushed through her as she explored his features. During her life, she’d never had the opportunity to be courted by a man, and even her illness had shut her away from the world. Her father had isolated her until it seemed that only the hand of Death was waiting in her future.

Perhaps it was the lack of time that made her act with boldness. Or perhaps it was her sudden sense of unfairness. There was a handsome man beside her, one who attracted her in ways she didn’t understand. Being so near to him was forbidden...and undeniably exciting. Why shouldn’t she seize the opportunity that was before her?

Her pulse was racing, and the proximity of his body against hers was a very different kind of risk.

He leaned down and against her lips, he murmured, ‘Don’t move.’ The heat of his breath and the danger of discovery only heightened the blood racing through her. She was aware of every line of his body, of his warm hands around her, and the feeling of his hips pressed to her own.

Her imagination revelled in what it would be like to be kissed by this man. His mouth was so close to hers...and if she lifted her lips, they would be upon his.

Carice gave in to impulse and stood on tiptoe, brushing her mouth against him. She wanted to know what a real kiss was, even if it was given by a stranger. But the moment she kissed him, he went motionless. Instead of taking her offering, he grew rigid like a block of stone.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, when she realised the mistake she’d made. She wanted to tell him that it had only been a whim, hardly more than a means of satisfying her curiosity. But she could not dare to speak a word, not with her father’s men still inside the chamber.

There was a rigid tension within Raine, and she understood that she had overstepped her bounds. His hands tightened upon her waist in a silent warning. Unfortunately, she could not move away from him, because of the tiny space within the walls.

The voices in the chamber grew quieter, and eventually she heard the door close while the soldiers searched the remainder of the abbey.

‘Why did you do that?’ he demanded in a low whisper. The feeling of his mouth against her ear brought a rush of gooseflesh over her skin.

He was right—it had been nothing but a mistake. There were no excuses for what she’d done, and he wouldn’t understand her reasons. But even so, she answered honestly, ‘I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss a man. You were near, and I acted on impulse. I wasn’t thinking clearly.’

‘We could have been found by those men,’ he whispered harshly. ‘Or was that what you wanted?’ He touched his finger to her chin in silent chastisement.

She winced, embarrassed by what she had done. All she could say was, ‘Have you never acted without thinking?’

‘No.’

And she suspected that was true. This man was iron-willed, a strong soldier accustomed to making battle plans. His commanding presence suggested that he expected all orders to be obeyed.

She tried to extricate herself from his body, but he stopped her. Against her ear, he murmured, ‘We cannot leave yet. They may still be nearby.’

Carice said nothing, but turned her back to him. At least then he would know she hadn’t truly meant to bother him.

The tension lingered, making her feel ashamed of what she’d done. If he had stolen a kiss from her, she might have had the same reaction. It was no wonder he hadn’t kissed her back.

Liar, her mind chided. If he had kissed you first, you would have enjoyed every moment. She pressed both hands to her cheeks, wondering what was the matter with her. Standing with him in the dark was giving her a strange sense of recklessness. But then again, when you knew your life would likely end before the year was out, there was no reason to be coy or shy. She couldn’t bear the thought of the High King being the only man to ever kiss her. The chains of her betrothal were suffocating, and she fought against them with every breath.

Raine’s hand brushed against hers, and he threaded his fingers as he held her palm. His gesture confused her, for it was almost an apology. She squeezed his hand in return, wishing she could go back and ask permission before she’d assaulted his mouth.

His thumb began to stroke the edge of her hand in a silent caress. It confused her, because wasn’t he angry with her right now? She closed her eyes, though his touch echoed within other places in her body. She tried to focus on the freezing cold stone walls or on how weary she was.

Not the man who was quietly undoing her senses.

But then, he took her hand and brought it to his neck. Beneath her fingertips she felt the warmth of his bare skin, and she couldn’t resist the urge to put her other hand up, bringing them back into an embrace.

He leaned in, and against her lips, he whispered, ‘We are naught but strangers, Lady Carice.’

They were. And perhaps that was why she wanted to kiss him. It would mean nothing, and after they parted ways, she would have a memory of what it was like to kiss a man.

She kept her voice hushed and murmured, ‘That is why it will not matter to either of us.’

His hand cupped her face, and she felt the forbidden heat that was there. She brought her hand back to his face, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Upon his throat, there was a faint trace of bristle, as if he’d missed shaving there.

And then he did lean in, kissing her softly. It was hardly there at all, and she felt a sense of disappointment. He was holding back, treating her as if she were made of glass. She could almost imagine his silent question: Was that what you wanted?

No, it wasn’t. Several times, she had seen men and women engaged in trysts. On some nights after they celebrated feasts, she would sometimes find couples stealing time together. But there had never been anyone for her. And then she’d grown so ill, she hadn’t been able to leave her chamber.

The kiss had been an idle wish born of longing and loneliness. She found Raine de Garenne quite handsome...and she knew that there would never be anything more between them, beyond a day or two spent in his presence.

His hands moved over her face, framing it. For whatever unknown reason, his touch was now a silent question. He was waiting for something, and she knew not what. In answer, she tightened her arms around his neck. Both of them were aware that these moments were unwise, and if she were caught in the arms of a Norman, her father would murder Raine where he stood.

She didn’t care.

Carice had no time to react before his mouth descended upon hers. The kiss was hot, melting away her awareness of the outside world. Her lips merged into his, and she tasted a hint of mead upon his breath. His tongue entered her mouth, and her knees gave out at the unrelenting sensations. He caught her, pressing her back against the frigid wall. But as his mouth consumed hers, she felt none of the cold—only a desire that was transforming from a kiss into a frenzied need.

‘No one will take you against your will,’ he murmured against her mouth before he claimed it again. ‘Not while I’m here.’

* * *

He was behaving like a ruthless bastard. Raine knew it, and yet, he didn’t want to stop kissing this woman. Despite her frail body, there was a fire within her. He tasted her yearning for a different life, and she had kissed him first. Though it might seem that she was a woman of loose virtue, somehow he didn’t believe it. Her gesture spoke of a woman who wanted to claim every last moment of life before she went to her grave.

It was unnerving, and yet, he was entranced by her sweetness. She aroused him with the barest touch, and his wicked mind imagined touching her boldly, marking her innocent skin. But he would not force her into more—not as weak as she was.

Raine broke the kiss and listened intently. There was no sound of her father’s men, and when he peered through a tiny crevice, he could see no one. He supposed it was unwise to reveal his face to her, but he’d spoken the truth when he’d said he needed her to trust him. It was unlikely that they would see one another again, and if he saved her life, she would not believe he was guilty of killing the High King.

‘Do you think it’s safe?’ Carice whispered. Her voice was breathless, and her hand touched his. ‘Are my father’s men gone?’

‘Stay here while I look.’ He pressed her back into the shadows while he pulled the stone door open, climbing into the chamber.

The moment he entered the room, he drew his sword, listening hard. Carice obeyed his orders, remaining hidden within the wall.

When there appeared to be no danger, he moved towards the door, waiting. Though it was likely that the men had continued their search elsewhere, he knew better than to believe that the threat had vanished. He rested his hand against the door, keeping his sword poised. Seconds ticked by, and he threw open the door, only to find an armed soldier standing guard.

Raine shoved the man back against the wall, his sword at his throat. ‘Why are you here?’ He spoke in his native language, not caring if the man understood him or not.

The soldier’s face went white, but he stammered a reply in the Norman tongue. ‘The—the chief of the Faoilin clan is searching for his d-daughter.’

‘Do I look like the sort of man who would allow a woman to trespass here?’ He pressed his blade against the man’s throat, leaving a trace of blood.

The soldier’s hands were shaking, and Raine told him, ‘Leave your weapons behind and go. And if I see you or any of the other men return, you won’t breathe again.’ Never once did he speak in the Irish language, for he wanted the man to believe he was an enemy.

He released the soldier, and the man hurried down the stairs. Raine followed him, keeping his weapon drawn. The chapel was empty, and he crossed the space, watching as the man retreated. It soon became clear that the guard was the only one left behind, for a single horse was tethered. He guessed that the man had stayed to learn whether or not Carice had hidden herself.

Which she had, but thankfully, the woman had not emerged from her place within the wall.

Raine watched while the man rode away, and he wondered what he should do about the Lady Carice. He had been commanded to kill the High King—Henry had demanded it as the price of his sisters’ freedom. It would cause chaos in the midst of Éireann, making the provincial kings rise up against one another. And it would allow Henry to gain full control of this land, creating order where there was none.

Carice Faoilin could allow him to get even closer to the High King, giving him a reason to be at Tara. Why should he not deliver the missing bride to her betrothed husband? Especially if Raine intended to kill the man anyway? Carice would not have to wed Rory Ó Connor—not if he carried out the man’s death sentence.

And yet, she had already fled her father in an effort to avoid the marriage. If he tried to bring her to Tara, she would only run away from him as well. Or if Trahern MacEgan arrived, she would go willingly with the man she had already asked to save her. Raine turned over the idea in his mind, wondering if he should use her or let her go.

She kissed you, his conscience reminded him. What sort of man would betray a woman who had willingly touched him? Only a bastard whose soul was already damned. He hardened his heart, knowing that it was better if she hated him. He was a killer, not a man worthy of redemption.

Yet, he didn’t want to let her go. Not only was she the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she had awakened a protective instinct within him. He wanted to guard her innocence, to see those sky blue eyes look upon him with gratefulness. She was unable to defend herself, and he wanted to slaughter any man who dared to threaten her.

There was no logical reason for his possessive urges, save her touch. It had conjured a fire inside him, stoking the need to caress her, to make her burn in the same way he did. The taste of her lips had aroused needs he’d buried for months. And if he took her with him, he could spend more time in her company.

After he was certain the soldier had gone, Raine returned to the sanctuary. Shadows clung to the stone walls, and he stared at the simple altar, remembering the men who had died in the fire. He could almost sense their chastisement for the thoughts he was considering. For a moment, he rested his palm upon the wall, hoping the men’s souls had found peace.

Slowly, he ascended the winding stairs and pushed open the heavy wooden door. He expected to find Carice seated before the fire or resting upon the bed. But she was not there.

He walked towards the opening in the wall and peered inside. She was seated on the floor with her knees drawn up, and her body was shivering violently.

‘It’s safe to come out,’ he told her, offering his hand. But she didn’t take it.

His suspicions tightened, and he stepped into the opening. When Carice didn’t move, he reached down and lifted her into his arms. Dieu, she was so light. And despite the gown and cloak she wore, her skin was like ice.

‘I was c-cold,’ she said. ‘And I didn’t have the strength to climb out. I am sorry for it.’ She was trembling, and he brought her over to the bed, tucking her beneath the coverlet. ‘I heard you talking to someone. Who was it?’

‘One of your father’s men.’ He reached for her hand and began rubbing at it, trying to bring warmth back into her skin. ‘I sent him away.’

She closed her eyes and murmured, ‘I am sorry for disturbing you here. I will leave as soon as I can.’

No, he wasn’t going to let her go. Not yet.

‘You need to rest first,’ he said. ‘Try to warm yourself.’

She nodded, burrowing tightly beneath the coverlet. He sat beside her, wondering if she would even survive the journey to Tara. There was no doubt that she could never wed the High King of Ireland. Why would Rory uphold the betrothal when she was so ill? Either the Ard-Rígh was unaware of her weakness, or he didn’t care. It was possible that Carice’s father held a lot of influence among the chiefs.

And yet, there was no denying her beauty, in spite of the illness. Her face was lovely, while her eyes were the colour of sapphires. Although her hair hung limply against her shoulders, it held all the mysterious shades of brown and red, like polished wood.

‘I can’t seem to get warm,’ she admitted, biting her lower lip. ‘My feet are freezing.’

He knew the fastest way to warm her was to lie beside her, curling his body against hers. But he didn’t want her to see him as a threat. She needed to feel safe with him, to trust him.

Before you take her to a wedding she doesn’t want. Before you betray her.

He silenced the voice of his conscience and reached beneath the coverlet to find her feet. With his hands, he began to massage the skin, bringing warmth to it.

Her eyes locked onto his with gratitude. Raine knew he ought not to touch her in this way, but she held him captive with her gaze. She stared at him as if she remembered every moment of their forbidden kiss. As if she wanted him to stay with her.

This woman was dangerous in a way he’d never anticipated. And the longer he spent at her side, the more she might bind him to her.

Abruptly, he covered her feet and stood. ‘Rest now. I’ll find more blankets.’

It was an excuse to leave her, for he had not yet decided what to do. An honourable man would bring her to safety at Laochre Castle with the MacEgans. Raine could leave her there with no regrets.

But he wasn’t honourable. He was a soldier, ordered to spill the blood of men, whatever the cost. He would have struck down her father’s guard without a second thought, except that he wanted the soldier to inform the chief that they should not return.

He shouldn’t care that Carice was a fragile beauty whose kiss had tempted him. She was a pawn in a game that he had no choice but to play. Henry held his sisters captive, and their lives depended on Raine’s obedience.

Kill the High King, and they would have their freedom. One life taken and two lives given.

He knew well what it was to be a pawn, used for another man’s ruthless commands. But when it was done, he would have his own freedom.

And so would Carice.

* * *

Her body felt as if it were frozen in a block of ice. Carice could hardly feel her hands and feet, and despite the layers of blankets, it wasn’t enough.

Raine hadn’t returned in hours, and she was beginning to wonder if he had left the abbey. He was a man of contradictions. One moment he kissed her like a starving man, and the next, he disappeared, as if he no longer wanted to be near her.

Soon enough, she heard his footsteps approaching, and the door swung open. Snow dotted his hair and cloak while in his hand, he carried a wrapped bundle of food. ‘Eat, and then rest again. We leave tomorrow at nightfall.’

She hesitated, for there was a hint of unrest in his voice. ‘We? I thought you were searching for Trahern MacEgan to bring me to Laochre.’

‘I did not find him,’ he answered, ‘and you lack the strength to travel alone.’

Carice knew that was true, but why had he suddenly changed his mind? Earlier, he’d seemed insistent that she leave him behind. Had her impulsive kiss affected him in such a way that he was now wanting to help her?

She rested her palm against her cheek, studying him. His face was like stone, utterly impassive. No, it didn’t seem that he was feeling in any way protective. Instead, there was impatience in his mood, as if he wanted to leave now. Or perhaps he was wanting to be rid of her.

‘What changed your mind?’ she asked bluntly. ‘You didn’t want to help me before.’

He sat down and unwrapped the food. ‘Eat something before you rest. You’ll need your strength for the journey.’

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ She tried to sit up, and he reached back to help her.

‘Does it matter why?’

The cool tone of his voice bothered her, for he behaved as if she was a burden he didn’t want. ‘If you are too busy with your duties for King Henry, you needn’t trouble yourself on my behalf. I can go alone.’

His expression shifted. ‘You couldn’t last more than a mile, chérie.’

‘I made it this far,’ she said quietly. ‘And believe me when I say that no man will force me to marry the Ard-Righ. I will go to the west and live out the remainder of my days in peace.’

‘I was leaving the abbey to return to my men,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll take you with me.’

But although she ought to be grateful for his offer, she sensed that he had his own motives.

‘Eat,’ he repeated, holding out the bundle.

She glanced at the food he offered and noticed that he’d roasted a rabbit. So that was where he’d gone—to hunt for meat, as he’d promised before. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the hot food. It was as if she could never get enough to eat, after all the years of suffering.

‘You need not bring me very far,’ she said quietly. ‘Laochre is hardly more than a day’s journey. If you bring me there, the MacEgans will see to my care after that.’

It was a reasonable solution and one that would not trouble him any more than was necessary. She waited for him to agree, but those green eyes narrowed upon her. Instead, he seemed disinterested in her suggestion.

‘Or I could escort you to the west, if that is what you want.’ He spoke with no emotion, his gaze not meeting her eyes.

Now that, she didn’t believe for a moment. Raine de Garenne had admitted that he was occupied with the king’s orders. He would have to return to his soldiers and commander. Nothing had changed, so far as she could tell.

‘Where are your men?’

He shrugged. ‘They are camped east of here. But I could delay my return to them.’

Her senses went on alert, and she didn’t at all believe he would journey with her, out of the goodness of his heart. ‘You want something from me, don’t you?’

He leaned forward and broke off a piece of the meat, his hand brushing against hers. She jolted at the contact, and his expression fixed upon her. ‘Perhaps I do.’

Her mind flashed back to the kiss, though she knew that was not the reason. Her cheeks reddened, and she asked, ‘What reason would bring you from your duties to act as my escort?’

Raine picked up another piece of meat and guided it to her lips. The simple gesture undid her good sense, crumbling away her thoughts. His thumb edged her mouth, reminding her of the shared embrace.

She chewed and swallowed, feeling a mild panic rising. Was he trying to seduce her? Had she inadvertently suggested that she wanted more than a kiss?

‘Not that,’ she insisted, returning his stare. He didn’t smile in teasing, nor did he react. ‘If you’re wanting a reward, silver pieces are all I can give to you.’

‘You have knowledge of the kings of Éireann, have you not?’

The pieces fell into place then. He could gain permission from his commander to escort her west if she gave him political information. He wanted her to share what she knew, so he could use the information against his enemies. But she was not a traitor.

‘I can tell you nothing,’ she argued. ‘All I know is what I have heard from my father. My knowledge would be of no use to you.’ And even if she did know something, she would never betray her countrymen to the Norman army.

Raine leaned in closer on the bed, balancing his weight upon both hands. At his nearness, she wanted to back away, but she forced herself not to be intimidated by him.

‘Your father made certain you were taught the Norman tongue, didn’t he? Because he wanted you to be able to negotiate between the Normans and the Irish. A useful skill for the Queen of Éireann.’

‘And for speaking to you,’ she countered. Her posture stiffened. ‘There is nothing I can tell you. And if that is what you want, then I must go to Laochre alone.’ She had no desire to reveal information that was never meant for a Norman’s ears.

‘You haven’t the strength for that journey,’ he argued.

Although he was right, she saw no alternative. ‘I will do what I must.’

‘Your father’s men will find you,’ he predicted. ‘And they will force you to return to the High King for your marriage.’

Perhaps they would try, but she wasn’t about to surrender. ‘I will never wed a man like the Ard-Righ.’ She ate more of the rabbit, sating her hunger. ‘Or any man, for that matter.’

‘Your father won’t give up until you’re found.’

‘He can try to find me,’ was her reply, though she knew it was true. Her father would not stop searching for her, no matter how long it took. Brian was a stubborn, proud man who delighted in having his own way—but he did love her. He wanted her to be Queen of Éireann, for it reflected well upon him.

Raine sat back, sharing the meat with her. It seemed that the more she ate, the hungrier she became. It had been so long since eating had not caused her stomach to seize with cramping. She savoured the food, and then he unfolded the bundle again, revealing dried apples.

‘Where did you get these?’ she asked, startled to see the fruit.

‘I found them stored within the kitchen.’ He gave them to her, and she was grateful for the fruit, almost greedy at the taste of it. But as she devoured the apples, she was reminded that the monks who had once lived here were now gone. It felt even more like they were trespassing like scavengers.

‘What happened to the priests who lived here?’ she asked him.

‘They died in the fire.’ He offered nothing else, but the dark tone suggested that he felt responsible for the deaths. She stopped eating, studying his expression in the hopes of glimpsing the truth. He claimed that he was a Norman warrior, and she suspected he was a man accustomed to killing.

And yet, there was an empty bleakness in his eyes, like a haunted man. As if he didn’t enjoy killing, the way a warrior might. She didn’t know what to think of that.

Why had he returned to this place? What interest would a Norman soldier have in an abandoned abbey? She couldn’t understand it.

‘Do you want more to eat?’ he asked her.

She shook her head, recognising his desire to avoid speaking of the priests. So be it. Likely it was better if she didn’t know what had happened here.

‘I intend to leave tomorrow at dawn,’ she told him. And as far as she was concerned, she didn’t need his help—especially if he was looking for information she could not give.

‘It would be better to travel at nightfall,’ he countered. ‘It’s too easy for them to track you. They won’t be far away, and we would be unable to avoid them.’

We? So he was still thinking of accompanying her. She regarded him with a frown, for she hadn’t agreed to that. ‘They are travelling towards Tara, and I am moving in the opposite direction.’ She wanted it clear that she didn’t need him to escort her. He could return to his men, if needed.

Raine evaded her searching gaze and answered, ‘The High King’s men have split up to search for you. If we do not wait and let them travel farther, then they will find us.’

Carice didn’t know why he was insisting on helping her, but it was time to be clear with him. ‘I would be grateful if you would take me to Laochre,’ she said, ‘but I cannot give you information about the kings of Éireann. I know nothing, and even if I did, I would not betray them.’ She eyed him sharply and added, ‘I can grant you a reward of silver for your assistance, but nothing more. And if you choose not to escort me there, I’ll go alone.’

Raine studied her, but his expression held a silent challenge. She didn’t know what to think of that, but she would not lower her eyes in surrender. Instead, she faced him down with her own strong will.

There was a faint hint of respect in his expression. ‘You won’t go alone.’ Though he didn’t acknowledge her offer of a reward, she suspected that he might still try to press her for knowledge.

‘Thank you.’ Yet despite his compromise, she sensed that the battle of wills was not over.

Raine gave a slight nod and commanded, ‘Rest now.’

She leaned back and huddled beneath the coverlet while he finished eating. Beneath the woollen blanket, her feet and hands were freezing. She tried to rub her hands to warm them, but they were numb from the time she’d spent in hiding.

There was no chance she would fall asleep in such discomfort. She managed to sit up, and swung her legs to the side of the bed, intending to go stand by the fire. But Raine stopped her. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m freezing.’ She hoped he might find her another blanket while she warmed herself at the hearth. Before she could get out of bed, Raine pressed her back down.

He reached for her hands and rubbed them between his palms. The heat of his skin felt so good, she closed her eyes, wishing for more. Then he bent down to her feet and did the same, massaging the frigid skin. She tried to stop herself from shivering but could not repress the instinct.

‘Do you want me to lie beside you for warmth?’ His offer meant no harm, but she questioned the wisdom of accepting his body against hers.

‘I don’t know.’ She met his gaze, uncertain of what he intended. This man unnerved her, and she worried about sleeping at his side.

Raine didn’t seem to care about her wariness. Instead, he stretched out beside her, pulling her body against his. He pulled his cloak over both of them and did the same with the blanket. His gesture was only meant to help her get warm, but against her nape, she could feel his breath. A sudden rush of awareness slid over her, bringing goosebumps to her skin.

He is not to be trusted, her mind warned. She knew that, even as she nestled closer to him. His presence was so dangerous to her good sense. Never before had she lain this close to a man. And especially not one who wanted her to act as a traitor.

She was fascinated by the contrast between them. He was muscular, a large man with a great deal of strength, whereas she was weak and softer. The hard planes of his body offered a shelter she welcomed. Even wrapped within the coverlet, she could feel the warmth of his arms around her. For a moment, she imagined that this was what it was like to lie with a husband.

A fragile twinge of regret caught her. At one time, she had dreamed of a life where she would be Lady of Carrickmeath with a husband and children. When her father had betrothed her to Rory Ó Connor, she’d been filled with terror and loathing. Brian had believed he was giving her a dream, not a nightmare.

But she felt no loathing beside Raine de Garenne. Instead, his embrace was welcoming, granting a solace that made her grateful. She had needed the warmth of his body, and he had offered it to her. Though she should feel guilty about resting beside him, she didn’t. Raine was a stranger to her, a man who might escort her to Laochre Castle, and then it was doubtful she would see him again.

She tried to close her eyes and find sleep, but the longer she remained in his arms, the more she grew aware of the heavy chain mail he wore. He could not possibly rest, wearing such armour.

‘You could...remove your armour if you want to sleep. It’s difficult in chain mail.’ She couldn’t imagine trying to sleep with the weight of the metal links pressing down.

Raine didn’t answer at first, but then he sat up, pushing back the coverlet before he walked towards the fire.

She never took her gaze from him as he turned to face her. Though he remained silent, she felt the censure in his stare. Out of courtesy, she closed her eyes. ‘I won’t look, I promise.’

‘Carice,’ he said quietly. ‘Would you prefer it if I left you to sleep alone?’ His stare held an intensity that made her uncertain of what he truly wanted. But it did seem that he was trying to determine whether his presence had made her uncomfortable. And that wasn’t it at all.

‘No,’ she answered. It made her feel safe to have him near. ‘I would rather have you stay. Unless...you do not wish to be near me.’

‘I will stay.’ His green eyes held her spellbound as he removed the leather corselet. ‘But trust that I will not harm you. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.’

He set aside the corselet and reached for the chain mail hauberk. Though she knew she shouldn’t watch, she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. His blond hair gleamed against the firelight, and he fixed his attention upon her as he removed the armour. Only a linen undertunic remained, but it was unlike those she had seen before. This one was worn, but made of a finer weave of cloth, like one a nobleman might wear. It hung open at his neck, and she spied angry, reddened flesh.

‘Are you hurt?’ She hadn’t realised it before. ‘Your skin looks as if it’s still healing.’

His expression tightened, and he paused a moment before lifting away the undertunic. His torso was rigid, resembling the honed body of an ancient god. There were scars of battle, but the reddish markings near his throat spread over one shoulder. He turned his back to her, and she saw that the skin was red and mottled, as if he had suffered from burns.

It hurt to look at the healed flesh, knowing how badly he must have suffered. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I was caught in the fire when this abbey burned. I nearly died.’ He still remained facing the hearth, not looking at her. ‘I saw the flames when my men were camped nearby,’ he said. ‘I alerted my commander, but he didn’t want to intervene. “It’s not our battle,” he told me.’ Raine rested his hands upon the stone wall, and the muscles in his back flexed. ‘I went there anyway, but I was too late to stop the raiders.’

Carice was glad to hear that he hadn’t been responsible for the men’s deaths. But she sympathised with him, imagining what he must have endured. ‘And you were trapped in the fire?’

He turned back and nodded. ‘One of the monks helped me escape. Then he died from the smoke. He couldn’t breathe.’ Raine’s voice was cool, as if it didn’t matter. But beneath his expression, she sensed guilt and regret.

‘Why did you return?’

‘After my wounds healed, I received permission to bury them. I do not think the bishop was notified, for the bodies were rotting when I arrived. But soon, they will come to rebuild this place.’

She couldn’t suppress a shudder, but she now understood why he’d come back. It was the right thing to do. His actions made her wonder more about this man and who he truly was. He was keeping so many secrets, it was difficult to understand him. ‘And now? After you take me to the MacEgans, where will you go?’

He lifted up the linen undertunic and donned it once more, setting the chain mail aside upon a chair. ‘I will return to the king’s men and my commander.’ He didn’t offer anything further but went to sit upon the foot of the bed.

‘What of your family?’

There was a trace of unrest that passed over his face. ‘Go to sleep, chérie. I have no wish to speak of them now.’ He stretched out beside her, on top of the coverlet. She remained facing the fire, acutely conscious of his presence.

But she found it impossible to sleep with him so near.

Chapter Three

Being so close to this woman was slowly killing him. Carice’s scent allured him, tempting him to hold her close as he had earlier. She wasn’t speaking, and he knew she was only feigning sleep.

And yet, the raw need to touch her was pushing away his good sense. He might claim that he was only intending to warm her, but the truth was, he longed to hold this woman. She was innocent, utterly fragile, like a newly-opened blossom.

He flipped back the coverlet and slid beneath it, well aware that he should not be sharing a bed with her. Though they were alone, with no one to cast blame, he understood how dangerous this was. Already he had tasted her lips, and he knew how soft and yielding they were. He wanted to kiss her again, but it would only heighten the temptation.

She moved back to him, snuggling her backside against him, drawing his arms around her body. The moment she did, he gritted out, ‘Dieu, you’re cold.’ She was slender and hardly seemed to have any body warmth at all.

‘I am sorry,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s impossible to sleep when I’m so freezing.’

He pulled her body against his, bringing his leg over hers, to keep her even closer. She sighed and murmured, ‘That’s so much better. Thank you.’

It wasn’t at all better for him. Her presence aroused him, and he could not prevent the instinctive response. He had a beautiful woman in his arms, and despite her cool skin, his mind was envisioning other ways to warm her.

Her brown hair was silk against his cheek, and her limbs were tangled with his, seeking comfort. His conscience warred with his body’s needs, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the way she had reached for him earlier. Despite her boldness, he didn’t at all believe she had any intention of seduction.

In time, her breathing slowed, and her skin was not so frigid. He lay awake, staring at the fire, wondering if this was what it would be like to have a wife. He had never married, not after all that had happened after his parents had died.

But a part of him hungered for a life such as this. To lie with a woman at night, to take comfort in her softness. War was a part of his blood, and he lived in a world where killing was expected of him. There was no peace, no sense of contentment.

Whether or not she knew it, Carice Faoilin was bringing him towards a greater temptation. And each day he spent with her made him more aware of the loneliness surrounding him.

With reluctance, he rose from the bed and went to stand by the fire. He’d revealed his burns to her, expecting her to be repulsed by them. Instead, she’d sympathised and had lain close to him.

He should take her to Laochre as she wanted. She needed to remain in a safe place where she could be surrounded by friends—not with a man like him. He walked over to stand by the bed, reaching for one of her long curls. He traced it between his fingertips before releasing it.

There was a restless energy within him, the sense that all was not right. He put on shoes and his cloak, taking his weapons before closing the door behind him.

The air was frigid, and his breath formed clouds in the air. He decided to go and check the grounds, to ensure that there were no intruders. Once he was convinced it was safe, he might be able to sleep.

The scent of Lady Carice haunted him, tempting him to taste those lips once again. He strode down the stairs, needing the cold night air to temper the fire rising within him.

Raine seized a torch from the wall and walked outside. It was snowing lightly, the ground covered in a dusting of white. As he walked the perimeter of the ruined abbey, he thought of King Henry’s orders. The man had no intention of allowing Rory Ó Connor to reign over the lands he wanted for his own. Henry was ambitious and ruthless, a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. The High King’s death would ensure his success.

Raine stopped beside the graves of the monks, the burden of their deaths troubling him.

He pressed his hand against the skeletal remains of the building, remembering the vicious pain of the burns. His men had taken him away, and over the course of several weeks, he’d gradually healed. But he’d needed to return, to silence the ghosts that dwelled within him.

Dieu, what was he still doing here? He’d been granted two days, no more. He had to return to the soldiers, to face his commander and obey the orders given to him. Time was slipping away from him, and he had to uphold his duties.

But the woman waiting in bed for him could not survive on her own. He had to either use her to get close to the Ard-Righ—or he had to bring her to Laochre and wash his hands of her. Leaving her behind was not an option.

Reluctantly, he returned to his quarters, stomping the snow from his feet before he ascended the stairs once more. The moment he opened the door to his chamber, he saw the dim glow of the fire illuminating Carice’s face. Her features were softened in slumber, and she had the face of an angel. From deep within him came the desire to guard her, to protect this woman from all harm.

She reminded him of a life he could have had, if tragedy had not befallen his family. For a moment, he allowed himself to dream of being a husband...or even a father. Guilt slashed through the vision, reminding him of his purpose. His family had died, while he’d been too stricken to move. He could not set aside the blame, and a life of solitude was what he’d earned.

Raine removed his boots and strode towards the bed. It was better if he left Carice alone to sleep before they departed. But he remembered the softness of her body pressed against his, the womanly allure that held him captive. And most of all, her kiss.

He cursed himself, even as he slid beneath the covers. When he reached towards her, he felt the coolness of her skin. She still wasn’t nearly warm enough. The moment he moved closer, she rolled to face him, snuggling as near as she dared.

Her touch was like a slow flame, consuming him. She was a physical torment, tempting him in a way he couldn’t resist.

Raine shut his eyes, forcing himself to remain utterly still. Though Carice was pressed up against him, he didn’t touch her, nor did he let himself imagine anything more. It was nearly an hour before he managed to calm the urges of his body, and even longer before sleep came.

But when it did, the nightmares returned.

* * *

He heard the sound of screaming. Raine bolted awake in his chamber, not knowing what was happening. He dressed quickly, not even bothering with armour, and seized his sword. His heart thundered with worry for his family or worse, their liege. King Henry was visiting Peventon Castle, along with fifty of his soldiers and servants. The scream was a woman’s, but whose?

Raine hurried down the stone stairs, his weapon drawn. He froze at the sight before him, unable to believe what he was witnessing. His father’s face was purple with rage, and he clenched a dagger in his fist. King Henry held his own blade and stared back at Neil de Garenne with arrogance.

‘You dare to draw your weapon before me?’ Henry said, his voice icy.

A sinking feeling caught in Raine’s stomach, a rise of mingled fear and nausea. To threaten the king was a death sentence. His father knew that, so why would he do such a thing?

‘You dared to touch my wife,’ Neil shot back. ‘I care not that royal blood runs through your veins. If you have harmed her, I will spill every damned drop.’

Only then, did Raine notice his mother weeping in the corner. Estelle sat on the floor, holding her knees, her clothes torn and in disarray.

God help them all.

Raine started to move towards her, but a soldier caught him by the arm. ‘Stay out of this.’

He ignored the man and wrenched his way free, moving towards his mother. Tears streamed down her face, and her expression was filled with terror.

‘She knows better than to deny her king. Sheathe your weapon, de Garenne, and apologise.’

But his father lunged at Henry, a war cry roaring from him. One of the king’s soldiers came from behind and stabbed Neil.

Raine froze in place. His limbs felt as if they were iron, bolted to the floor. He stood in shock as his father’s blood spilled over the stones. Estelle rushed forward, reaching for her husband.

And though he knew he had to move, had to help them, he could do nothing.

Too fast. It had all happened too fast for him to respond.

Then, Raine watched in horror as his mother seized her husband’s knife and stabbed herself.

* * *

Raine gasped for air, jerking awake.

Carice startled at his motion, and realised that he was sweating, his breathing uneven. ‘What is it?’

When he didn’t answer her whisper, it seemed that he was still under the spell of a bad dream. ‘It’s all right,’ she murmured, touching his shoulder. ‘I am here.’

The top of his tunic had come unlaced, and her palm brushed his bare skin. He jolted as if she’d burned him, but his eyes flew open. Even then, he did not appear aware of who she was. ‘It was only a dream,’ she whispered, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

He gripped her wrist roughly and shoved it against the coverlet. ‘Do not touch me.’

His abrupt transformation frightened her. In his eyes, she saw a wildness of a man who was gripped with visions that were all too real. She pulled back, bunching the covers around her. This time, he got out of bed and donned his chain mail once more, adding the leather corselet atop it.

‘What were you dreaming of?’ she asked.

But he would say nothing about the nightmare. Instead, he ordered, ‘We should leave now. It’s nearly dawn.’

She wanted to argue with him, but the look in his eyes was shielded, as if he were holding back terrible memories. Instead, she rose from the bed, reaching for her shoes. She found that she was hungry again, and she took some of the food he had brought last night. Though her weakness lingered, at least the vicious stomachaches had abated.

Carice drew her cloak over her gown, tying it closed. Raine eyed her appearance, his expression stoic. ‘You won’t be warm enough in that cloak. It snowed last night.’ He gave her his own outer garment, before he dragged one of the blankets off the bed and draped it around her shoulders. Carice gathered it up like a brat and added the extra layer.

‘You should take back your own cloak,’ she insisted. ‘You’re only wearing chain mail armour.’ She couldn’t imagine that he could stay warm in that, despite the leather corselet.

‘The cold won’t bother me.’

Of course not, she thought drily. Men didn’t get cold. Or if they did, they’d never admit it.

Raine opened the door and waited for her to follow him. In the narrow corridor, he reached for a torch from one of the sconces. It cast shadows upon the wall while she descended the stairs. As he had predicted, she felt the cold chill of the night air slipping beneath the layers of wool.

Once they stepped outside, she paused a moment to watch the fat snowflakes drifting from the sky. There was beauty in them, and she held out her palm, trying to catch one. A bemused smile crossed her face, and she reached down to form a snowball.

‘Do not consider it,’ Raine warned.

But Carice smiled. ‘I was just thinking of my brother, Killian. He used to throw snowballs at my face when we were children.’

‘You never spoke of a brother.’ The hint of censure in his voice made her stop a moment.

‘He’s not really my brother. At least, not by blood.’ She struggled to explain it to him. ‘We had different parents, but Killian lived at Carrickmeath, and we grew up together.’ A pang caught her, for she did miss him. ‘He’s the brother of my heart, I suppose you could say.’

‘If he was like a brother, then why didn’t he escort you to safety?’ Raine led her towards the horses, and she dropped the snowball. She didn’t miss the implication that Killian had failed in his duties.

‘It’s...complicated. Killian is the High King’s bastard son.’

‘Then does he want you to wed Rory? To bring himself back into favour with his father?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s the last thing he wants. In fact, he wanted to help me escape, but I had the chance to play matchmaker instead.’

The confused expression on Raine’s face made her hide a smile. ‘I have no regrets. Lady Taryn of Ossoria needed an escort to Tara. Killian needs to make peace with his father. And the fact that Taryn and Killian cannot keep their eyes off one another made it even better. I made him stay behind with her when she was in trouble.’ She folded her arms over his chest and saw the look of exasperation on his face. ‘Don’t tell me. If you were my older brother, you would never let me go on my own.’

He sent her a sidelong look. ‘I am not your brother, chérie. Nor would I want to be.’ The sudden edge in his tone made her remember sleeping beside him, their limbs tangled together. She sobered instantly at the thought.

‘If it makes you feel any better, Killian will join me at Laochre before I go west,’ Carice said. ‘Our separation is only temporary.’

‘Why did you leave before Trahern could arrive?’

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘I grew nervous when he didn’t come. I saw a chance to escape the High King’s men, and I took it.’

Raine took her by the hand and guided her towards the stables. ‘What you did was dangerous.’

‘I didn’t think so at the time. But yes, it was.’ She squeezed his hand, feeling embarrassed at her weakness. ‘I am glad I met you. And I am grateful for your help.’

He met her gaze for a moment before saying, ‘We should go now.’

Although she didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, she supposed his nightmare had set him on edge. He was right that there was indeed a risk that she would be caught or found.

The snow dotted Raine’s dark blond hair, and he led her inside the stables. Although she was still weary, it would be dawn within hours. With luck and good speed, she would reach Laochre tonight and possibly find Killian and Lady Taryn waiting for her there.

Raine prepared his horse, and Carice waited until he led the animal by the reins. He lifted her onto the horse and swung up behind her. Though it was still dark, there was a dim haze of morning on the horizon. Against her spine, she felt Raine’s strong presence. She had grown accustomed to the hard lines of his body, but there was no peace within him.

It shouldn’t matter. By nightfall, she would reach Laochre, and their paths would diverge. She steeled herself, knowing it was meant to be this way. Even so, she felt traces of regret. Raine was the first man she had ever kissed, and he had given her a glimpse of a different life. With him, she almost felt like an ordinary woman—one who had a life ahead of her instead of numbered days.

You’re going to die, the voice of reality intruded. No man will ever fall in love with you.

She had no right to hope for more time with him—not when she was dying. It was better to let him go and relinquish the idle dreams. What man would want to be with a woman who could never give him companionship or children? Moreover, he had to return to his Norman commander.

When they reached the gates, Raine paused a moment and turned to look back. The ruins of the abbey were scarred by fire, but the stones remained. On the far side, she saw the graves he’d dug, and though he said nothing, she understood that he felt responsible for the destruction. Perhaps those were the dreams that burdened him.

Snow lay upon the ground, crisp and white. As they rode, it continued to fall. She loved watching the swirl of flakes upon the wind, and when they reached the open meadow, she leaned back to watch. Raine stiffened, and she glimpsed a frown upon his face. ‘Do you not like snow?’

‘I don’t enjoy sleeping in it.’

Her smile faded, for as a soldier, he had likely slept out of doors during many battles. ‘I suppose you’re right. I’ve always enjoyed watching it fall from the sky, though. It’s beautiful. Except when my brother shoved it in my face.’

‘And did you seek revenge upon Killian?’

She glanced behind. ‘I didn’t hit him with a snowball, no. But I did cry until he brought me a kitten.’ Nothing had bothered her brother more than tears, and she’d been ruthless in using them to get her way. But even though her cat, Harold, had comforted her over the years, the animal still doted upon Killian.

‘You manipulated him, then.’ Raine tightened his arms around her as he quickened their pace. ‘It doesn’t surprise me.’

‘I used the weapons I had. It could be called strategy, really.’ She could feel Raine’s chain mail armour against her back, and they were a tangible reminder that he was here to guard her. The metal links were a boundary between them, allowing no warmth at all.

But she remembered well, what it was to sleep beside him. His scent, of warm male and a hint of leather, was comforting.

After they rode together for many miles, she said, ‘Thank you for escorting me to Laochre. I hope your duties bring you prosperity and that you see your family once again.’

He gave no answer, but slowed the pace of their horse. ‘I doubt I will ever see my family again. And especially not if I disobey orders.’ This time, he drew the horse to a stop, his hand resting upon his sword hilt.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked. They were not nearly close enough to Laochre. He cut off her words with his hand, guiding the horse west, towards a small circle of trees. Her heartbeat quickened, though she could not see the invisible threat.

Against her ear, he whispered, ‘Someone is following us.’

She didn’t see how that was possible, given that it was not yet dawn, and she had heard nothing at all. But there was no reason to doubt him.

‘I’m going to dismount, and I want you to ride to those trees. Stay there until I come for you.’

Carice wasn’t certain it was a good idea to be alone, but she gave no argument. He got off the horse, and before he could leave, she caught his hand. ‘What if there is a threat within the trees? Do you have a weapon I could borrow to defend myself?’

Raine unsheathed a small dagger at his waist. ‘Take this. But do not use it unless you have to.’

She took the blade and secured it within her girdle. He was about to move away, but she reached out to his cheek. ‘Be careful, Raine.’

He covered her palm with his own and squeezed it, before he retraced their tracks. Carice watched him for a short time before retreating towards the trees on horseback. When she reached the grove, she moved through the woods to the opposite side.

The horse’s hooves crunched through the snow, and she turned one last time to look back at Raine, hoping he was safe.

Then men closed in on her so fast, she had no time to react. Strong arms dragged her off the horse, and a scream tore from her throat.

* * *

Raine cursed when he heard Carice cry out. Damn it all, but he should have checked the woods before sending her there. A few paces back, he’d spied a single man following on his own horse. The man was a giant, taller than any man he’d ever seen. It had to be Trahern MacEgan, the man who had been meant to guide Carice back to Laochre. Raine had seen the man in battle, years ago, and never had he met any man taller.

He sheathed his sword and charged towards the woods, even knowing it was futile to fight against several men. But he hoped the rider would assist him. ‘MacEgan!’

The rider turned his head and rode up alongside him. ‘Was that Lady Carice?’

Raine nodded. In the Irish language, he added, ‘She needs help!’ Without waiting for a reply, he continued running towards the woods. Another scream escaped Carice, and the sound of her panic intensified the need to reach her. He’d sworn to keep her safe, and he would keep that vow.

With his sword drawn, he entered the woods and seized a fallen branch to use as a makeshift shield. Carice was being held by two men, and she gripped his dagger in one hand. It didn’t seem that they intended to harm her, but he recognised one as the soldier he’d released. Half a dozen more men were armed and standing nearby.

‘Don’t let them take me,’ she pleaded with Raine, struggling against the guards. But she lacked the physical strength to fight them, and within moments, one twisted her wrist so the dagger dropped to the snow.

At her gasp of pain, Raine threw himself at the soldiers. His sudden attack caught them off balance, and he jerked Carice free. ‘Go! Trahern is close by.’

She didn’t argue, but scrambled backwards. Raine had no time to see her there safely, but he struck out at the first soldier with his fists, knocking the man down. He seized the dagger from the snow and buried it in the throat of the next man.

The haze of killing came upon him then, and he moved with swiftness, his sword cutting through bone and flesh. Dimly, he was aware of Carice urging Trahern to help him. He was relieved to know that he’d been right about the man’s identity.

The MacEgan fighter unsheathed his own sword, and his brute strength offered a welcome assistance.

‘Take her to Laochre,’ Raine commanded.

‘There are too many of them,’ Trahern argued. ‘You can’t hold them off alone.’

‘Get her out. Now, before more of them come.’ He seized a fallen branch to block a soldier’s sword, lunging hard with his own blade. MacEgan hesitated, but Raine insisted, ‘You have no choice. Take her to safety. Leave me behind.’

Trahern sent another man sprawling from a punch, and Raine blocked a third soldier who had come up behind the Irishman.

‘Take my horse, then,’ the Irishman ordered. ‘I’ll take her mount.’ Trahern sent him a wary look and added, ‘Meet us at Laochre if you can.’ He shoved another soldier, and there were four men remaining.

Raine stole one last look at Carice. Her long brown hair fell across her shoulders, dampened with snow. Her pale skin was flushed, and fear filled her eyes.

He drank in the sight of her, not knowing if he would live or die. And if Carice’s was the last face he saw before dying, he would hold no regrets.

* * *

Carice leaned heavily upon Trahern MacEgan when they reached the donjon. They had spent all afternoon and evening riding towards Laochre, and she could barely keep her eyes open.

Trahern was so tall she had to lean back to look at him. He was also a bard, and he’d entertained her with stories during the journey. It had been a welcome distraction, but she could not stop worrying about Raine.

Was he alive? Had he managed to defeat the soldiers? They were mostly the High King’s men, mingled with a few of her father’s, but she had not seen any sign of Brian Faoilin.

‘Will you be all right?’ Trahern asked her, slowing down their mount as they entered the gates. ‘Can you walk the rest of the way?’ His eyes grew concerned, and she knew he was well aware of her weakness.

She paused a moment. ‘I can, yes. But I keep thinking about the soldiers. We shouldn’t have left Raine behind. It wasn’t right.’ After all that he had done to protect her and care for her, it felt as if they had turned their backs on him.

‘He’s alive, Carice.’

‘There were four of them,’ she insisted. ‘Four men against one.’ Her throat tightened at the thought of him being surrounded. Surely no man could survive such a battle. And though he had sacrificed himself for her sake, the guilt weighed down on her.

‘He’s a trained Norman soldier,’ Trahern argued. ‘Believe me when I say that he lives. He did not want you to see him slaughter those men.’

She knew she ought to feel pity for the soldiers. They had died obeying orders, attempting to bring her back. But it had always been against her will. They had been part of the chains binding her to a marriage she had never wanted. A numbness settled over her, the regrets so hard to bear.

‘I need to know what happened to him,’ she murmured. Had Raine escaped, as Trahern had predicted? Or had he died, his body bleeding out in the snow? She pushed away the thoughts, afraid of the answer.

God help her, she could not forget the memory of his kiss. He hadn’t wanted to be with her at first, but the moment his lips had captured hers, she was unable to breathe or think clearly.

‘I will find out, if you wish,’ Trahern said. He guided her inside, his palm against her back. ‘But for now, you are safe.’

The lighted torches were bright within the room, and heads turned at the sight of them. She took a deep breath, and relief flooded through her at the sight of her brother, Killian. The worry on his face dissipated the moment he saw her, and from his roughened looks, it appeared that he’d been fighting. There were signs of swelling upon his face, and a hint of blood on his lip.

‘Both of us are in need of food,’ Trahern called out as he escorted her inside.

Carice pasted a smile upon her face, but she wasn’t feeling at all overjoyed. The worry over Raine distracted her from all else. She knew not if she would ever see him again. It felt as if they’d abandoned him, and she couldn’t bear to think of it.

Killian rushed to her side, and she gripped her brother hard as he embraced her. ‘Thank God.’ Despite all her worries, being in his arms made her feel safe once more. Of all the men here, Killian understood the Ard-Righ’s cruelty and he would ensure that she had an escort to continue her journey west.

‘Were you pursued by your father’s men?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘And the High King’s men. I had to take shelter at the abbey.’ For a moment, she considered telling him about Raine, but then thought the better of it. Killian had the protective instincts of an older brother, and he would only be more worried about her if she spoke of being alone with a Norman soldier.

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