Praise for

Michelle Willingham’s

The MacEgan Brothers:

HER WARRIOR SLAVE

‘Willingham skilfully combines a cast of wonderfully

original characters with a refreshingly different,

meticulously detailed setting to create a vivid tale of love

and danger in medieval Ireland.’

—Chicago Tribune

‘Michelle Willingham writes characters that feel all too

real. The tortured soul that is Kieran really pulled at my

heartstrings. Iseult’s unfailing search for her lost child

made this book a truly emotional read.’

—Publishers Weekly

THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH

‘… thought-provoking tale of love …’

—RT Book Reviews

HER WARRIOR KING

‘Betrayal, mistrust and anger fire this medieval tale

about how love finds an aching heart

when that heart isn’t looking.’

—RT Book Reviews

SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR

‘… heart-wrenching and uplifting, with riveting characters

and a captivating plot. It’s the story of two people

devastated by tragedy, who find comfort

and healing in each other.’

—RT Book Reviews

AUTHOR NOTE

When I first began writing The MacEgan Brothers series, it was born out of my love of Ireland. I’ve visited the country on three occasions, and each time I’ve found a corner of the world that holds both mysticism and wild beauty. From the ancient ruins I imagined a family of five strong warriors, fighting to carve their place in a world threatened by Norman invaders. The books in the series include (in suggested reading order): HER WARRIOR SLAVE (prequel), HER WARRIOR KING, HER IRISH WARRIOR, THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH, TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR, and SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR.

Readers have written to me asking about what happened to the warriors after they found their happily-ever-after, and I began to wonder about the second generation. By the time the last book was finished a few of the warriors’ children were adolescents. I decided to create a series of three stories crafted around the children of my warriors. It’s set during the time of the winter solstice and Christmas, and each story features a daughter or son of one of the MacEgan brothers.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed revisiting familiar characters and getting acquainted with new heroes and heroines. Thank you for sharing the holidays with my MacEgans!

Visit my website at www.michellewillingham.com for excerpts and behind-the-scenes details about my books. I love to hear from readers, and you may e-mail me at michelle@michellewillingham.com or contact me via mail at PO Box 2242, Poquoson, VA 23662, USA.

About the Author

MICHELLE WILLINGHAM grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand. When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance. She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University. Currently she teaches American History and English. She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword.

Visit her website at www.michellewillingham.com, or e-mail her at michelle@michellewillingham.com

Previous novels by this author:

HER IRISH WARRIOR*

THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH*

HER WARRIOR KING*

HER WARRIOR SLAVE†

THE ACCIDENTAL COUNTESS††

THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCESS††

TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR*

SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR*

CLAIMED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR**

SEDUCED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR**

TEMPTED BY THE HIGHLAND WARRIOR**

Available in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:

THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE

THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN

AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION††

INNOCENT IN THE HAREM

PLEASURED BY THE VIKING

CRAVING THE HIGHLANDER’S TOUCH

And in Mills & Boon® Historical eBooks:

LIONHEART’S BRIDE

(part of Royal Weddings Through the Ages)

*The MacEgan Brothers

†prequel to The MacEgan Brothers mini-series

**The MacKinloch Clan

††linked by character

Did you know that some of these novels

are also available as eBooks?

Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Warriors in Winter
In the Bleak Midwinter
The Holly and the Viking
A Season to Forgive

Michelle Willingham

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In the Bleak Midwinter

Michelle Willingham

Chapter One

Ireland—1192

The wind had turned cold in Éireann, forcing Brianna MacEgan inside the walls of her beehive-shaped stone hut. The fire had gone out, but she hadn’t built another yet. The chill within these walls matched the feelings of her heart. At any moment, she expected the door to open, with Murtagh sweeping inside to steal a kiss. But he wouldn’t. He’d been killed in a raid by a Lochlannach warrior of Gall Tír.

In her nightmares, she saw the frozen expression of shock on Murtagh’s face when the spear took his life. A cry of anguish had ripped from her throat as she’d rushed to his side, heedless of danger. Never in her life would she forget the cold expression of the Viking who had killed him. In a fraction of a second, he’d ended her world.

A part of her lay buried beneath the earth at his side. Worse, she’d never conceived a child during the marriage. There would be no son with Murtagh’s eyes, no daughter with his smile. The empty longing for a child ached within her, but she couldn’t imagine another man taking his place.

The walls seemed to close in on her, the grief shrouding her. Though her father had pleaded with her to return to Rionallís, her childhood home, she couldn’t bring herself to leave Laochre. All of her best memories were here, in this home. Inside this space, she could feel Murtagh’s presence, like a ghost haunting her. And though she knew it was time to let go of the past, she wasn’t ready.

A knock sounded at the door, and without waiting for an answer, her cousin Rhiannon came bursting inside. Her long brown hair was twisted into braids in a crown across her forehead, while the rest fell to her waist. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The guards saw riders approaching. Liam has returned … and he has a woman with him!’

‘He’s back from the Crusade?’ Brianna stood up, rubbing her arms against the cold. Their cousin had gone to the Holy Land, against his father’s orders. The king had been furious to learn of it, but he’d allowed his son to stay … provided that he remained in the service of King Richard the Lionheart. ‘Why do you think he brought a woman?’

Rhiannon lifted her shoulders. ‘Possibly to marry her. There are wagons behind them, and more riders.’ Her cousin’s voice was filled with excitement at the prospect of visitors. ‘I might find a husband. Pray God, there’s someone handsome among them.’

The fervent prayer wasn’t entirely in jest. Rhiannon’s father believed there was no man alive good enough for his daughter. He’d forbidden any of their tribe to even look at her, much less ask her to marry.

‘And if you do meet a handsome stranger?’ she prompted.

Rhiannon sent her a secret smile. ‘I won’t be telling my father about him, you can be certain of that.’ She rubbed her shoulders against the cold. ‘Come, and let’s greet Liam.’

‘Go on without me,’ Brianna urged. ‘I’ll follow in a few moments.’ No doubt if Liam was getting married, there would be feasting and celebrations for days. The very thought of making merry was foreign to her, like a long-forgotten dream.

Her cousin’s face dimmed. ‘You’ve been hiding away for weeks. If I leave you alone, you won’t come.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The loneliness was so unbearable, she didn’t know how to force herself out of her melancholy. ‘It’s just that … today was difficult for me.’

‘I’ll stand outside the door and wait for you,’ Rhiannon warned. ‘And you wouldn’t want your best friend to die of cold, would you?’

Beneath the teasing, Brianna heard the true concern. Her cousin was only trying to help, to draw her away from the sorrow. Perhaps Rhiannon was right. A distraction might take her mind away from her grief.

Brianna reached for her husband’s cloak and drew it around her shoulders. It was too large to fit, but at least she could hold a part of Murtagh to her. ‘All right, I’ll come.’ Before she pulled the door shut behind her, her gaze fixed upon the spear standing in the corner. The tip gleamed in the dim light, the edge honed until it would slice through any man’s flesh.

She was torn between destroying the weapon that had claimed Murtagh’s life … or using it for vengeance.

Fifteen years, he’d dreamed of this moment. At last, to set foot upon foreign shores and visit the places he’d longed to go. Arturo de Manzano cast a glimpse back at the ship that had brought him from Navarre, and anticipation quickened his pace. All his life, he’d wanted to taste adventure, and he intended to savour every last moment. Even if it was freezing and beginning to rain.

He rode behind his sister Adriana and her betrothed husband, Liam MacEgan. MacEgan had claimed to be an Irish prince, but Arturo would withhold his approval of the marriage until he witnessed the man’s rank for himself. Though they were the same age, Liam appeared far older. He wouldn’t speak of the horrors he’d witnessed while on Crusade, nor would Adriana. Both of them seemed grateful to be upon peaceful shores, far away from Saracen enemies.

Behind him, servants unloaded the ship filled with his sister’s dowry goods. Adriana remained at MacEgan’s side, her gaze fixed upon her betrothed husband, as if drawing strength from him. Her eyes were shadowed with sleeplessness, but what concerned Arturo most was the absence of joy in her face. A bride ought to be smiling with happiness, excited about her forthcoming wedding day. But Adriana appeared troubled.

Arturo drew his horse on her opposite side. ‘You look tired.’

‘It’s been a long journey,’ she admitted. ‘I’m glad to be on land again. As is Liam.’

Liam grimaced, taking a deep breath. ‘Had I known that going on Crusade would mean so many months at sea, I doubt I would have gone.’ He reached for Adriana’s hand. ‘But then, I wouldn’t have met you.’

Though she ventured a smile, Arturo saw the emptiness within it. ‘She shouldn’t have left Navarre.’ Adriana had been changed by the Crusade. He could see the shadow weighing upon her, though she would not admit it. She’d shrugged away his questions, claiming it was only exhaustion. But Arturo suspected there was more to the story than that.

‘It was an honour,’ his sister countered. ‘The queen needed a lady-in-waiting who could guard her.’ Sending Arturo a sidelong glance, she added, ‘And my brothers did well enough, teaching me to defend myself.’

‘A battlefield is no place for a woman,’ Arturo insisted.

‘Which was why we left,’ Adriana finished. With a warning glance, she silently asked him to abandon the subject.

‘Adriana is braver than most women,’ Liam said softly. With a wry smile, he added, ‘She’ll have to be, to survive the ordeal of meeting my family.’

Arturo wasn’t certain what MacEgan was implying by that. ‘Do they know of the marriage?’

He shook his head. ‘I intend to surprise them.’

Adriana eyed her intended husband with wariness. ‘And what if your father has arranged another bride in your absence?’

Liam squeezed her hand. ‘You are the only one I intend to marry. And I have no doubt they will come to love you.’

She tried to smile, but worry lurked within her dark brown eyes. Arturo hung behind them, watching the couple as they rode toward a vast limestone castle. Adriana had been his friend and ally while they’d grown up together. It was she who had dismissed the potential brides their mother had brought before him, revealing the greed or faithlessness she’d discovered. And it was she who had introduced him to Cristina, the woman he’d been married to for years, before she’d died three summers ago.

The loneliness was starting to abrade his mood. It wasn’t simply the desire to visit new places or to experience a culture different from his own. It was the deep need to fill up the empty spaces within his life. He wanted to feel the arms of a child’s embrace during the day and a wife to curl up beside him at night. The time had come to find a new woman to bring back with him to Navarre. Perhaps an Irish one, if she was willing.

He saw love on his sister’s face when she looked at Liam, despite the worry. They would find their happiness, once she adjusted to her new home. And he envied them.

They continued riding toward Laochre Castle, and the air was much cooler than his native Navarre. Arturo was accustomed to sun and mountains, while this land had the greenest hills he’d ever seen. A large stone wall surrounded the fortress, and it rivalled the holdings of their own father. It reassured him that this marriage would be a strong one, and he signalled to one of the servants to join him.

‘My lord.’ The man bowed, waiting for his orders.

‘Send word back to the Vicomte de Manzano that he and my mother should make arrangements to travel here for the wedding.’ He’d wanted to confirm that MacEgan was telling the truth about his land and holdings, before they made the journey. His mother would want to be here, and surely Adriana would be grateful for their parents’ presence.

After the servant departed to do his bidding, Arturo caught up to his sister and her husband-to-be. They had already entered the gates, and from the small crowd gathering, they were fascinated by her.

His sister paled at the sight of them. Arturo brought his horse up behind her and spoke quietly in Spanish. ‘Don’t faint, Adriana.’

‘There are so many of them,’ she responded back. ‘And they’re all talking about me.’

‘Sí. But likely they are enchanted by you.’

‘Will you not ride beside me?’ she pleaded. Liam was speaking to the people in a foreign tongue, murmuring his translation to Adriana in the Norman language.

In a teasing voice Arturo refused, saying, ‘I’ll stay behind, to cut off your escape.’ No doubt his sister was feeling lost amid all the people. He drew closer, giving her his support in the best way he could. While Liam was embraced by family and friends, the smile on Adriana’s face grew strained.

He studied the crowd of people, his gaze passing over each of them, until his attention was drawn to another woman standing back from the others. She was dressed in an unadorned gown the colour of muddy water, while her hair was hidden beneath a darker mantle. A softness moved over her face when she saw Liam, but it was immediately shadowed by sadness.

She seemed reluctant to greet them, but when another woman took her hand, the two of them moved past the crowd toward Liam. Despite the mantle cloaking her features, he recognised the fragile beauty of her. After she greeted Liam, speaking quietly in Irish, she retreated from the crowd.

Arturo dismounted, giving his horse over to the stable master. When he returned to Liam’s side, he asked, ‘Who was that woman?’

‘One of my cousins,’ the Irishman answered. ‘Her name is Brianna.’ With a warning look, he added, ‘And she’s married, my friend.’

‘Widowed,’ another woman interrupted, switching from the Irish language into the Norman tongue. She embraced Liam, adding, ‘Brianna’s husband was killed after you left on Crusade.’

That explained the sadness. Arturo knew, well enough, what it was to endure the days ahead, pretending as if the grief weren’t there. Even now, there were times when he wished he could speak with Cristina again, hearing her soft laugh. As he watched the woman slipping away, he sympathised with her fate.

Moments later, the king and queen of Laochre came forward. Queen Isabel threw herself at Liam, openly weeping tears of joy as she framed her son’s face with her hands. ‘Praise the saints, you’re home.’ She gripped him tightly and then scolded, ‘When you left us, have you any idea how I worried about you? I’m so glad you’re safe.’

‘You’re crushing him, Isabel,’ the king said gently, pulling her back. But he embraced his son as well before turning to Adriana. ‘I am Patrick MacEgan, King of Laochre.’

His sister managed a curtsy and Liam drew her forward. ‘Father, this is Adriana de Manzano, the woman I intend to marry. And her brother Arturo de Manzano.’

At the mention of a wedding, the queen sent her a blinding smile and embraced Adriana. ‘I bid you welcome.’ Moments later, she began chattering so fast, Arturo wondered if Adriana would understand a word of it. But she walked alongside Isabel, and he supposed the queen would take good care of her.

It was clear that the king wanted to speak to his son alone, so Arturo offered to oversee the wagons. As he supervised them, bringing them into the inner bailey, his gaze returned to the hooded woman.

Brianna held herself apart from the others, and when the drizzling rain shifted into snow, she drew her mantle tighter around her. To his surprise, she caught him watching her and walked forward until she stood before him. At first, she spoke Irish, but when he shook his head, not understanding, she switched into the Norman language.

‘Why do you stare at me?’

Her direct manner caught him off guard. Answering honestly, he said, ‘Why do you think a man stares at a woman?’

She lifted her chin and met his eyes boldly. ‘Find another woman for your attentions, Spaniard. I am not the one for you.’

A gust of wind caught at her hood, and it slipped away from her hair. It was nearly as dark as his own, and it contrasted sharply against her fair skin, making her green eyes stand out. Her features were exotic to him, beautiful in a way he’d never seen before.

‘We have more in common than you know.’ He lifted her hood back to cover her hair, while the snow dusted both of them. He was referring to her loss, but she remained motionless until his hands moved away.

‘Turn your eyes elsewhere, Spaniard,’ she whispered. He recognised the edge of grief beneath her words. If she had lost her husband, then likely she would find his interest offensive.

‘I know your pain,’ he said softly. ‘The grief never leaves you. But time dulls it, eventually.’

He gave a slight bow, and turned back to join the others. He didn’t have to turn, to know that she was now watching him.

Brianna’s cheeks rushed with colour as Rhiannon returned to her side. ‘Why did you tell the Spaniard I was a widow?’ she accused.

Rhiannon’s face narrowed with confusion. ‘And so you are. Why? Did he bother you?’

She could give no reply. No, he hadn’t bothered her. But the open interest had provoked a fluttering response within her stomach. The Spaniard was taller than Liam, with dark hair and dark eyes. His skin held the olive tone of a man who had spent a great deal of time in the hot sun. And his physical form was muscular, like a fighter.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of his touch upon her hood. She hadn’t missed the interest in his eyes, but it was his words that had shaken her.

I know your pain.

Did he? Then why would he dare to speak to her, as if he wanted to know her more intimately?

Her cousin was looking embarrassed, and Brianna realised how she’d overreacted. She took a deep breath and apologised. ‘I’m sorry for my ill temper. You did nothing wrong.’ She took her cousin’s hand and tried to smile. ‘He should have looked at you, if he was wanting a woman.’

‘You were the one who captivated him,’ Rhiannon pointed out. ‘I didn’t interest him at all.’

Brianna said nothing, not believing the words. ‘He may change his mind. Besides, I’m not looking to marry again.’

‘At least you had a husband once.’ Rhiannon’s mood darkened. ‘If my father got his way, I would be a bride of the Church. He’s threatened to kill any man who speaks to me.’

‘He doesn’t mean that.’ But both of them knew how protective Connor MacEgan was when it came to his eldest daughter.

‘Whether he does or not, there are no men in this tribe who will even look at me.’

‘The Spaniard might, if you tried,’ Brianna offered. Though she tried to pass off the suggestion in a casual manner, a sudden shyness passed over her. It had been so long since any man had shown an interest in her, she didn’t know how to respond to it.

But Rhiannon sent her a secret smile. ‘Not him. But your sister is putting together a love charm for me today.’

‘Oh, no. You’re not going to indulge her, are you?’ There was no one more superstitious than her younger half-sister. Alanna believed in faeries and magic, and was convinced that she had otherworldly abilities.

‘What harm is there?’ Rhiannon said. ‘I’m supposed to meet her at the dolmen, and she’ll do what she can to find a husband for me.’

From the amused look on the other woman’s face, Brianna relaxed. Her cousin obviously didn’t believe that magic could bring about a husband. ‘When?’

‘This evening, at sunset.’

‘Whatever you do, don’t drink any liquid she’s brewed. Heaven only knows what’s in it.’

‘I won’t,’ Rhiannon promised. ‘But whatever charm she casts, be assured of this. I won’t waste my time here any longer. I’ll find a husband and make my own fate.’

They continued walking into the castle and learned that Queen Isabel had taken Adriana into the solar and had sent for wine and food. Liam had gone with his father, the king, as well as the dark-eyed Spaniard, to discuss her bride price.

‘I don’t envy Liam’s bride,’ Brianna whispered as they neared the door. ‘I imagine our aunt is questioning everything about her.’

‘We should rescue her,’ Rhiannon suggested.

‘Aye.’ Brianna pressed the door open, and the pair of them went inside. The young dark-haired woman was seated upon a stool beside Isabel, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. She’d removed her travelling cloak, and from the look of her expensive gown, she’d taken great care to look her best. The green silk shimmered with silver threads, while a gold necklace hung around her throat.

‘Rhiannon and Brianna, you are welcome to join us,’ the queen greeted them, smiling. ‘I have been asking Adriana about how she and Liam met.’

Brianna exchanged a look with her cousin. No doubt Isabel had interrogated poor Adriana, hardly letting her touch the food and wine.

‘Liam rescued us when the queen and I were held captive on the island of Cyprus,’ Adriana admitted. ‘He risked his life to free us.’ A softness came over the young woman’s face at the mention of her betrothed husband. ‘He never left my side, even when we journeyed to Acre.’

‘Were you there amidst the fighting?’

Adriana nodded, but her face turned pale at the memory of the Crusade. ‘My father and brothers made certain I could fight, if necessary.’ Her hand moved to her gown, and from inside the folds, she revealed a hidden blade. ‘I served the queen not only as her lady-in-waiting, but also as a guard.’

The women continued sharing stories, but Brianna drifted off in a daydream. Though she had not been trained to fight as Adriana had, she imagined searching for the Lochlannach warrior, waiting until he believed himself alone. With the spear, she could confront him.

A dark shadow fell across her mood. She’d never killed a man before, and it wasn’t an act she could take lightly. It was one matter to imagine avenging Murtagh; it was another to begin training for it.

Was it the right thing to do? Indecision warred with her conscience. No one would think it unusual for her to seek vengeance, if she were a man. It wasn’t the favoured course of action, but it happened.

She rested her hand on one cheek, unsure of what to do. For so long, she’d kept the spear, until the very sight of it made her ill. The voice of reason reminded her that she ought to destroy it and simply forget what had happened.

But she couldn’t. Though a year had passed, the crippling sadness never left her alone. It pricked at her heart, leaving her raw and wounded.

She studied Adriana. In the woman’s form, she saw a lean strength and a confidence. This was not a woman who would let any man threaten her. She would stand up for herself, not hiding away from the rest of the world.

It was the woman she wanted to be, a woman of courage—not cowardice.

Although she was uncertain how she might confront the raider, she supposed there was no harm in learning to defend herself or in mastering the use of a weapon. Despite the objection of the others, she could find a way to learn. And when she had mastered the skills she needed, she could make the decision then about whether or not to act against the Lochlannach raider.

An awareness caught her when the voices of the women broke off. When Brianna looked up, she saw that the king, Liam, and the Spaniard had joined them. She’d been so caught up in her dreaming, she hadn’t noticed them entering the solar.

The Spaniard accepted a cup of wine from Isabel, and when he took a sip, Brianna’s eyes were drawn to his mouth. His lips were firm, his face honed with sharp planes. So different from her husband. Murtagh had been a teasing man and a kind one. He’d treated her with affection and had been her friend as well as her lover.

But there was no friendship in Arturo de Manzano’s expression. He eyed her as though there were no other women in the room. The intensity of his gaze caught her deep inside, like an intimate caress.

As a distraction, Brianna drank from her own cup, but the spicy taste of the wine did nothing to diminish the awkward feelings inside her. Did he intend to disarm her with a look? She met his gaze openly, hiding nothing at all. Though the Spaniard might be trying to gain her interest, she had no intention of letting another man close to her. Even if he was fiercely handsome.

‘Our parents will arrive within a few weeks,’ he was telling Isabel. ‘I think they will be more than pleased with the marriage.’

Isabel gave him a nod, and then turned back to Adriana. ‘If you love my son and bring him happiness, then I, too, am well pleased. You might consider having your celebration after Twelfth Night, if their journey takes longer.’

Liam was standing behind Adriana, with his hands upon her shoulders. The young woman covered one of his hands with her own, and although there was love there, Brianna sensed another emotion from the young woman, like a hint of consternation.

It was hard to remain here, seeing the two of them with years of happiness ahead while her own marriage had been cut short by an enemy’s spear. Isabel was talking about decorating the castle with greenery and holly, and Brianna excused herself, letting them continue their discussion of wedding plans. She wanted some time alone, to practise with her spear and make decisions about what to do next.

With slow steps, she crossed the Great Chamber and made her way back home. The bitter cold made her lift her hood over her hair. Glancing at the position of the sun, she had only an hour before dusk.

* * *

When she reached her house, Brianna took the spear and hid it within her cloak. She brought a gathering basket with her, in the hopes that if anyone saw her, they would believe she’d only gone to collect greenery.

She only made it halfway across the castle grounds, when the Spaniard approached. ‘Would you like company on your walk?’

‘No, thank you.’ The last thing she wanted was for him to catch her practising with the spear.

‘Then I’ll keep my distance and guard you from anyone who might bother you.’ He stepped back, gesturing for her to go forward.

Brianna didn’t quite know what to say. She wanted to tell him no, but he’d only offered his protection. ‘It isn’t necessary. My uncle’s guards will keep me from harm.’

As she departed the castle grounds, she glanced behind and saw that he maintained his distance. True to his word, he gave her complete privacy, and yet he remained nearby.

She frowned as she crossed over the open meadow and toward the forest. Trees were sparser in this area, but there was a small copse that would offer her a place to practise. She set down the basket and removed her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. With the spear in one hand, she gripped the wood, finding the balance point.

It was the first time she’d practised with the weapon. Even touching it bothered her, and she half-wished she’d chosen another weapon.

Memories crashed through her, of the suffering in Murtagh’s eyes when the spear had taken him. It had been hours until he’d died, and never would she forget the horror of helplessness. Or the blood upon her hands and this weapon that had cut his life short.

Hot tears burned in her eyes, and she wondered how she ever thought she would have the strength to avenge his death. She couldn’t even touch the spear without weeping.

You’ve gone weak, her mind taunted. You can’t do this.

Her hand dug into the wood, and she sighted another tree as her target, pulling her arm back in preparation.

‘So this is how Irish women spend their time?’ came a male voice.

The spear fell from her hands, clattering upon the frozen ground as she spun. ‘I told you I didn’t need your protection.’

‘Anyone could see you trying to hide a spear,’ he pointed out. ‘You didn’t conceal it very well.’

‘It’s not your concern.’ She steadied her voice, trying to hide her shaken feelings.

‘I wondered why you would bring it so far from the castle grounds,’ he continued on. ‘Were you trying to learn how to use it?’

She remained silent. Please go away.

But instead, the Spaniard reached down for the fallen weapon, testing its weight in one hand. ‘This spear is not meant to be thrown,’ he told her. Turning the shaft into a vertical position, he took her hand and guided it on to the wood.

She studied his features, noting the light chainmail armour he wore and the strength of his stance. There was none of the easy-going nature of her husband, nor the light teasing she was accustomed to. Instead, he remained stoic, rather like a block of stone. His dark eyes narrowed upon her, as if questioning her purpose.

With his hand upon hers, he guided the spear to just below his chest. ‘This is a spear meant for close contact. You wait until the enemy is close enough, and thrust it upward.’

The tip of the spear rested upon his chainmail armour, and she saw the intensity in his dark eyes. Standing so near to him, she murmured, ‘Not into his heart?’

‘The tip would get deflected by his ribs if you miss. It’s too great of a risk.’

‘I’ll remember that.’ Slowly, she drew the spear back and nodded for him to leave.

He ignored her dismissal. ‘Who is threatening you, belleza?’ His tone held warmth, but beneath it lay strength and determination.

‘There is no threat to me. And even if there was, I would not ask for your help.’ She set the weapon down and withdrew her knife. Grasping an evergreen branch, she sawed at it, pretending she didn’t care what he did now. Yet, she was fully aware of his presence.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled from his proximity. When he moved beside her, the top of her head barely reached his chin. Her eyes rested squarely upon his chest, and she chided herself for noticing the way his armour moulded to it like a second skin.

‘Even so, I’ll stay.’ His voice held a deep timbre that made her suppress a shiver. When he moved beside her, he watched her work for a moment. ‘Your blade is dull,’ he remarked. ‘Use mine.’

His hand brushed against hers, and he gave her a knife with an ivory hilt. She held it for a moment, and said, ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re unbelievably persistent?’

‘My sister. But usually she calls me overprotective.’ He reached out for a pine branch and waited for her to cut it. When she tried his knife, the blade sliced through the slender branch easily. He took it and put it within her basket. ‘You’ll want to fill this before you return. So they won’t suspect.’

She reached for another branch and cut several in silence. The Spaniard took them from her, one by one. Though he said nothing more, Brianna felt the need to fill up the silence. ‘You travelled a long way for your sister.’

‘Adriana and I have always been close.’ In his voice, she heard the affection, but a moment later, he added, ‘I had to be sure Liam was worthy of being her husband.’

‘My cousin will be king one day. There is no one more worthy than he.’ She gathered a pile of branches and returned his knife.

‘What of your own husband?’ he asked. ‘If your uncle is king, then was he—’

‘I don’t want to talk about Murtagh.’ The hurt was still fresh within her, and she had no desire to explain why she had wed the miller’s son. Her husband had been hardworking and honest, although her family had not been pleased by her choice to wed him. Her father had not forbidden it, but neither had he approved of the match.

‘Forgive me if I brought up bad memories.’ He used the knife to detach another branch, adding it to her basket. ‘It was curiosity, nothing more.’

She bit her lower lip, realising how snappish she’d sounded. ‘It was a year ago today that he died.’

Arturo stopped cutting the branch, the knife still partially embedded in the wood. ‘You made the wrong choice to come here.’

She sent him a questioning look, not understanding, and he added, ‘On the one-year anniversary of my wife’s death, I drank myself unconscious.’

A hint of a smile tugged at her. ‘And was it a wise choice?’

‘I didn’t think so the next morn. But at the time, it made it easier to bear.’ He reached down and lifted up the basket of branches. ‘It’s not easy to let go of someone you loved.’

‘No.’ In truth, she felt as if she were betraying Murtagh, just by talking to the handsome stranger. But in his eyes, she saw the reflection of her own grief. Without knowing why, she confessed, ‘Murtagh was killed by the Lochlannach. With that spear.’

‘My wife died in childbirth.’ Though his words were spoken without emotion, she saw the flash of pain on his face.

‘And the baby?’ she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

He stood so still, she knew the answer before he spoke it. Quietly, he shook his head.

The echo of emptiness resonated within her, and she heard herself asking, ‘Did you love her?’

‘Very much.’

‘Then why would you follow me here?’ she blurted out.

Arturo reached out for the spear and handed it to her. ‘I remember the grieving and the loneliness. When I look at you, I see myself as I was, a few years ago. I thought you might want a friend who understands.’

The air turned cooler and snow began to fall around them. It dusted his hair and cheeks, while all around them it swirled in a blinding dance.

‘All I want is someone to teach me how to fight,’ she said at last.

His gaze narrowed. ‘For what purpose?’

‘To kill the man who took my husband’s life.’ She took the basket from him, sending him a challenge of her own. ‘Go ahead and tell me how foolish that is.’

Instead, he shook his head. ‘It’s not foolish at all. You’re angry.’

‘Yes.’ She gripped the spear, feeling the rush of injustice filling her up inside. ‘When I first lost him, I spent months weeping. I could hardly get through the days. And now, I feel this rage every time I think of the Lochlannach who killed him.’

‘Killing him won’t bring back your husband.’

‘It would make me feel better.’ She let out a sigh and handed him back his blade, exchanging it for her own. ‘I need a way of filling up the hours of the day.’

A smug expression slid over his face. ‘There are many ways a beautiful woman can spend the hours of her day.’

She sent him an exasperated look, knowing exactly what he was implying. ‘No, thank you.’

His voice deepened as he sheathed his blade. ‘I can teach you what you wish to learn, Brianna.’ The seriousness on his face made her stop walking, as she realised he was no longer teasing. ‘But only if you swear to me that you won’t hunt this man down alone. Put your anger into the training, and you may find that it eases your grief.’

His offer surprised her. Her own father and uncles had refused to let her near the weapons. ‘Why would you agree to this?’

‘I spent the year after Cristina’s death fighting in any battle I could. Releasing the anger is better than holding it in.’

Brianna studied his dark brown eyes and saw the truth of his words. The physical aspect of training would make her feel better, even if she ended up destroying the weapon. She wanted to punish herself with exertion, until at night she fell into a dreamless sleep. And then, perhaps, she wouldn’t feel the emptiness.

She shivered against the winter air, and the snow had begun to accumulate around them, coating the pine branches in a frosted white. Arturo picked up the basket and nodded for her to accompany him back to Laochre. ‘In return, I ask that you take me to visit the lands nearby. I want to see what I can of this country, before I return to Navarre.’

It was a reasonable request, one she could grant easily. ‘All right. Until Liam and Adriana marry.’

Though he inclined his head in agreement, she worried that spending a great deal of time with Arturo was not a wise idea. Even while walking with him, a dormant part of herself stirred, as if awakening from a long slumber.

Being trained by this man would be a dangerous game indeed.

Chapter Two

The next morning, the ground was covered in several inches of snow. Brianna stood back within the inner bailey, watching the soldiers spar. Most were fighting with light colc swords, and they wore armour made from leather. All of the men, including Liam, took part in the training. But her attention was drawn to Lord de Manzano. He held a lighter sword made from Damascus steel. The blade was beautiful, and he stood speaking with Connor MacEgan, Rhiannon’s father, who had already begun working with the men. Though Connor had lost the use of one of his hands, it made no difference at all in his fighting. He went from soldier to soldier, speaking to each man and offering adjustments to improve their skill.

When he spied her, Connor came forward and smiled. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Brianna. Have you seen Rhiannon this morn?’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ But from the guarded look on the man’s face, she suspected something was amiss.

‘If you see her, tell her I was looking for her.’

Brianna agreed but didn’t miss the way his eyes searched the fortress. Her cousin’s confession yesterday, about the love charm, made her wonder if something had gone wrong.

A few moments later, she saw Liam’s bride walking along the far side of the castle. The young woman’s eyes held the evidence of a sleepless night, but she walked toward Brianna and greeted her.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked Adriana.

The woman nodded. ‘I’m still getting accustomed to this place. It was just some troubling dreams.’ Though she tried to smile, Brianna noted a tension in her demeanour.

‘My brother said you wanted to learn how to protect yourself. I’ll join you this morn, for I want to improve my own skills.’ Adriana waved a hand to Lord de Manzano, who ended his sparring match and sheathed his sword.

When he strode toward them, Brianna saw the thin sheen of perspiration on his skin. The tunic he wore was shapeless, but she’d caught a glimpse of muscles within the cloth. There was no doubt the man was a strong fighter, like her uncles.

Murtagh had been competent, but his skill was in building. He’d ignored his father’s wishes and had spent his days laying stone around the castle and working with the king to improve their physical barriers against enemies. Had he trained with the others, he might have been better prepared to fight during the Lochlannach raid.

A silent grief enfolded her mood, and she remained solemn when Arturo bade them a good morning.

‘We’ll move away from the others,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, you’ll distract the men.’ He led them away, pressing his palm against the small of Brianna’s back. Though it was an innocent gesture, awareness of him slid through her skin. She could smell the faint aroma of soap, as if he’d bathed before dawn. His dark hair was pulled back in a cord, and he walked with an air of confidence.

‘You should learn the knife first,’ he suggested, ‘before the spear. If a man tries to attack you, it’s the easiest weapon to seize.’

He stood before his sister to demonstrate. Adriana smiled at her brother, and when he grasped her arms, she retaliated by slipping her hands to his waist. Within seconds, the blade was pointed at his throat.

Lord de Manzano released her and beckoned. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

Brianna took the young woman’s place and he instructed her. ‘I’m going to seize your shoulders. Your task is to unsheathe the knife at my waist.’

Brianna tried, but her hands were locked at her sides. ‘How? I can’t move my arms.’

Adriana moved beside her. ‘Men have weaknesses when it comes to women. Put your hands upon his chest, as though you want him to hold you.’

Brianna obeyed, but when she touched Arturo, she grew aware of his hardened chest and the muscles that were like stones beneath her palms.

‘Slide your hands down his torso and look at him as though you are enjoying his touch,’ Adriana instructed.

Brianna hesitated. She wasn’t at all accustomed to using feminine wiles against a man. When she looked into Arturo’s dark eyes, she didn’t like the attraction that sparked between them. Slowly, she moved her palms down his body and saw the flare of interest in his eyes.

Her breath caught, and in a suspended moment, she recognised her answering response. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch. And God forgive her, she’d missed it.

‘When you reach his waist, hold your hands there for a moment before you strike. In one motion, you’ll have to take his blade and lift it to his throat.’

Arturo’s hands tightened around her shoulders, and Brianna reached for the blade at his waist.

‘You have to know where the knife is,’ Adrianna corrected her. ‘If you search for it, he’ll know your intent.’

Brianna held steady and drew one hand around Arturo’s back, the other hand seeking the weapon. In his arms, she felt the heat of his skin, the dark seduction of his gaze. He watched her with the eyes of a man who knew how to touch a woman and evoke her passion. As if he had all the time in the world.

Shaken by the direction of her thoughts, her hand closed upon the hilt and she forced it upward, aiming for his throat. She moved too quickly, and the blade nicked his chin.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, lowering the blade and touching his chin. It was a shallow cut, but she felt terrible for it. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

He caught her fingers, moving them aside. ‘It’s nothing, cariño. Don’t trouble yourself.’ He leaned in to her ear and whispered, ‘Unless you want to kiss it better.’

She jerked away from him so fast, he might have been on fire. But he only laughed at her while his sister shook her head in exasperation. ‘Pay him no mind, Brianna. Arturo is, and always has been, a terrible flirt.’

She spoke to him rapidly in Spanish, and from her tone, Brianna suspected she was giving him a warning. His response was a lazy smile. ‘Care to try it again?’

She did, but this time, she was more careful with the dagger. After several more trials, she was able to retrieve the blade without error.

Liam joined them after an hour, and he took Adriana with him for a walk. When they’d gone, Brianna thanked him, saying, ‘I should go.’

‘Why? Because you’re afraid to be alone with me?’

‘There are nearly two dozen people around us,’ she countered. ‘We’re not alone.’

‘Then keep your part of our bargain. You were going to show me the surrounding land.’

From the uncertain look on her face, Arturo suspected Brianna would search for any possible means to avoid it. Instead she thought a moment and replied, ‘All right. But first, I’ll get food to take along. We’ll be gone for a few hours.’

Something about her quick agreement made him wonder about her intentions. She spoke to a young girl with dark brown hair, murmuring instructions. While he arranged for their horses, Brianna departed. For a time, he didn’t know when she would return, but eventually she emerged, carrying a bundle of supplies. An older man and woman followed her. Arturo vaguely remembered seeing them earlier.

With scarred cheeks and streaks of grey at his temples, the older man eyed him as if considering whether or not to kill him. His hand rested upon a sword at his side, and his eyes were a familiar green.

The woman had a warm smile, and she spoke to Brianna softly before turning to him. ‘I am Lady Genevieve. Brianna has asked us to accompany you this afternoon on your ride. Of course, we’d be glad to come.’ Mischief brewed on the woman’s face as she approached to greet him. ‘She told me that you wish to see more of Ireland.’

‘That is so.’ Arturo bowed and took the older woman’s hand. Raising it to his mouth in greeting, he added, ‘It would be my honour, Lady.’

‘Let go of my wife’s hand, Spaniard,’ came a low growl from the older man.

Arturo met his gaze squarely, but took no offence. ‘I would wager you are Brianna’s father.’ At the man’s curt nod, he understood that this was Brianna’s means of keeping her bargain without being alone with him. Did she truly feel uneasy in his company? When he’d taught her how to defend herself with a blade, they had stood almost in an embrace. Her hands had trembled as she’d touched him, moving her hands down his chest to seize the dagger. In her eyes, he’d caught a glimpse of surprise … and a softening of her features. She’d looked at him with confusion, as if she didn’t understand the way she felt.

He didn’t want her to be afraid of him or to distrust his intentions. Though he wouldn’t mind consoling her, he understood the boundaries. She didn’t want another man to intrude upon the memories of her husband, and he respected that.

Arturo kept his expression neutral, and nodded in greeting toward the warrior.

‘Bevan MacEgan is my name,’ the older man said. The look in his eyes added the warning, Don’t even think about touching my daughter.

Arturo squared his shoulders and stared back at the man as if to say, Your warning is not needed.

‘I thought the four of us could ride together,’ Brianna suggested. ‘My father and Lady Genevieve can answer almost any questions you have.’ She walked forward and took the reins of the mare Arturo had brought. ‘If you don’t mind waiting for their horses.’ She took the small bundle of food and secured it to the saddle. Arturo offered to boost her up, and she accepted his assistance.

‘You could go on ahead of us and ride along the coast,’ Genevieve suggested. ‘Show him the island, and we’ll meet you there.’ She turned to Arturo and sent him a wink.

Already he decided he liked Lady Genevieve. Though there was no need to play the role of matchmaker, she was riling her husband’s temper—and well she knew it.

‘They can wait,’ Bevan countered, his eyes hard.

Arturo lifted his shoulders in a shrug before he swung up on his mount. ‘It is for your daughter to decide.’ He deferred to Brianna, never taking his eyes from the older warrior’s face. He sensed that he was being tested, but there was no reason for it. His intentions toward Brianna were nothing more than friendship.

It was better this way, he supposed. She could show him Ireland, and when he returned home, there would be nothing binding him here.

Brianna hesitated, eyeing first Lady Genevieve, then her father. ‘It’s only a short distance to the southern coast,’ she said. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in letting you see the island.’

She nudged her mare forward through the snow, and Arturo followed until they were outside the gate, moving toward the open expanse of land. In the distance, white-covered hills rose up from the landscape, and a well-worn path led up to a higher peak.

‘At the end of harvest, during Lughnasa, we walk up the path leading to the top of the hill and bury ears of corn as an offering to the gods,’ Brianna explained.

‘You keep to the old ways?’ He drew his horse up alongside hers, curious, for he’d seen evidence of a church within the castle grounds.

‘We’ve always celebrated both. My father and his brothers are superstitious. They’d rather keep everyone happy.’ The slight smile playing at her lips suggested that she humoured them in their beliefs. ‘Besides, it gives us an excuse to eat and drink too much.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s harm in that,’ he admitted. ‘I heard them speaking of a celebration at the solstice.’

‘Meán Geimhridh, it’s called. My uncle Trahern will tell stories, and we’ll decorate the donjon with greenery. It’s a smaller celebration of the solstice before Christmas.’ Brianna tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear, and it drew his eyes to the slender line of her jaw. Her lips were full, the pale pink of morning. He found himself noticing the curve of her chin, the hollowed cheeks and the fresh beauty of her face.

Green eyes stared at his in a moment of confusion, before she quickened the pace of her horse, riding toward the sea. Almost as if she were trying to run away from him.

Arturo rode behind her, and when they neared the edge, she dismounted, letting the horse graze upon the tall grasses. The sea was grey, the tide swelling in rough waves against the rocks. Across the narrow channel, he saw an island with a wooden fortress and a smaller circle of huts.

‘My great-grandsire dwelled on the island Ennisleigh,’ she said. ‘He was a wood carver and later, he founded the MacEgan tribe, in honour of his brother.’

‘Who lives there now?’

‘Other members of our tribe. Sometimes the king and queen will go off together and spend a few nights alone.’ She glanced down at the ground, as if realising what she was implying.

He ignored the remark and replied, ‘It’s a strategic location. I imagine it’s useful if enemy ships approach.’

She nodded, her face flushed. When she started to return to their horses, he stopped her with a hand. ‘Brianna, you needn’t be afraid of me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Liar,’ he whispered. Reaching for her cold fingers, he warmed them in his palm. ‘You get nervous every time I look at you.’

When she said nothing, he drew his thumb over her palm. ‘I admire what I see. You’re a beautiful woman.’ He tilted her chin up to face him. ‘But I also know that you grieve for him.’

‘I feel guilty,’ she confessed. ‘And confused.’ She pulled her hand free, letting him glimpse the apprehension in her face. ‘It’s too soon for me.’

‘I won’t be here for more than a few weeks,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to return to Navarre and to my father’s lands, where I am guardian.’ His time here would be brief, only long enough to see Adriana settled. ‘But before that, I want to experience this land, which is so different from my own. I would like to see it through your eyes.’

‘I am the wrong person to ask,’ she protested.

‘You wanted to find a means of using the hours in your day,’ he pointed out. His gaze shifted up, for her parents were approaching. ‘If you want me to hold my distance, I will do so.’

She let out a slow breath and nodded her assent. Arturo leaned in to murmur against her ear. ‘Or if you want a distraction from your grief, I can grant you that, belleza. No one would begrudge you a winter night spent with me.’

‘It would be a betrayal,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I could not do it.’

‘The decision is yours. I would never coerce you into anything that would make you uncomfortable.’ He drew back, resting his forehead against hers. ‘But I do know what it’s like, lying awake at night. The loneliness can be unbearable.’

She could give him no answer at all. But neither did she pull away from him. For a long moment, she leaned against him, the thoughts silent within her. Arturo waited, and then stepped back to regard her.

He could see the storm of thoughts churning through her. She would think about his offer. But the choice was, and always would be, hers.

Brianna led the small group toward her father’s castle at Rionallís. Though it was an hour’s journey, she felt a sense of comfort riding through the familiar landscape. It was the only way of steadying the trembling within her. Arturo had cast a spell upon her, until she hardly recognised herself. With the faintest touch of his thumb upon her palm, he’d roused an unexpected response within her. The gentle caress had sent blood coursing through her skin, hardening her breasts and reminding her of the intimacies between a man and a woman.

He was right. She did miss the closeness of falling asleep naked in a man’s arms, her arms and legs intertwined with his. Against her will, she imagined Arturo’s body upon hers, and it was not unwelcome. His whisper, that he knew of the loneliness, had reached past her shield of guilt.

No, he would not remain in Éireann for long. But she didn’t know how long she could resist the invitation he’d offered. She did long for a way of silencing the despair that caught up to her at night.

It was best to refuse the temptation. Her purpose now was to avenge Murtagh’s death, to bring justice to the Lochlannach who had killed him. She had to prepare herself for what lay ahead, and when the men of her tribe faced another raid, she would be ready to seek out her enemy and wield the spear against him.

When he was dead, it might finally heal the scar within her heart. Then, perhaps, she could look toward a future.

Her gaze shifted back to the Spaniard. The blood of nobility ran through his veins, but she drew comfort from the fact that her father was still glaring at the man, as if he could read Arturo’s mind.

He’d disapprove of him even more, if he knew of your thoughts, her mind chided. The invitation, to spend a night in Arturo’s bed, shook her senses apart.

Brianna broke away from all of them, changing their direction toward the round tower. From beside the church, it rose nearly a hundred feet in the air, like a guardian. It was a unique structure, with a narrow diameter, the size of a small hut. A rope ladder hung ten feet down from the raised door. At the top of the tower were several bells, which could be rung in times of need.

‘Have you seen towers like this in Navarre?’ Genevieve was asking Arturo.

The Spaniard shook his head and smiled at her. ‘Not like this. Our castles are similar to yours, though.’ He drew his horse to a stop and stared at their surroundings, his gaze resting at last upon Brianna.

‘In the northeast territory, we have mountains the colour of sand, almost like a desert,’ he told them. As he wove stories about his homeland, he never took his eyes off her. Brianna listened, while her father asked questions about their lands.

‘I assume you’ll be returning home, after the wedding?’ Bevan ventured. His veiled hint was quite clear.

‘I will, yes. Unless there is a reason to stay through the spring.’ Arturo’s eyes rested upon her, like a physical touch.

Before her father could say anything more, Genevieve intervened. ‘This morn, I saw you teaching Brianna something. There was a knife, I believe?’

‘What reason would you have to train my daughter in the use of a weapon?’ Bevan demanded. Once again, she heard the disapproval in his voice.

‘I asked him to help me,’ she answered, but her father didn’t seem to hear her.

‘Don’t you believe that women should be able to defend themselves against an attacker?’ Arturo countered, facing her father with a challenge of his own.

‘And what would you know of weaponry?’ Her father was staring at the Spaniard as if he were itching for a fight.

To her dismay, Arturo dismounted and unsheathed his sword. ‘Care to spar, Irishman? Unless you’ve forgotten how …?’

‘What are they doing?’ Brianna whispered to Genevieve while Bevan got down from his own stallion. ‘They’re not going to fight, are they?’

Her question was cut off when her father withdrew his own weapon and attacked swiftly. Arturo deftly parried the blows, watching every move as if learning his enemy’s methods. The snow slowed their footwork, but both held their balance.

‘Stop them,’ Brianna protested, starting to intervene, but Genevieve pulled her back.

‘No. Let them fight.’

‘But why? There’s no purpose for it at all.’ She was aghast when her father swung hard at Arturo’s head, only to be deflected and pushed back the other way.

‘Your father is testing his abilities. They won’t hurt each other.’

But the fight continued longer than she wanted, until at last, Arturo attacked. He sliced his sword hard, putting all his strength into the fight until Bevan’s weapon blocked his next blow. The two men pressed hard against each other, trying to force the other to yield. A bead of sweat rolled down Arturo’s face, but he refused to back down.

In her father’s eyes, she saw a subtle shift, until at last, he admitted, ‘I see that you do know how to fight.’

Arturo sent him a slight nod. ‘I guard those under my protection. And I demand that my men train until they can defend our holdings.’

The two men stepped back at the same time, both sheathing their weapons. Genevieve went over to her husband, while Brianna wondered what would happen now. Arturo eyed her for a moment, and then walked over to the church yard, where there was a well. He retrieved water and splashed handfuls upon his face, dampening his hair. The afternoon light haloed his dark hair, and when he stared back at her, Brianna felt the hunger of his gaze. It moved over her face and down her body with unveiled interest.

Without a word, without touching her at all, he made her feel vulnerable. Were she to share his bed, she had no doubt that he would spend endless time touching her, until she surrendered to pleasure.

She closed her eyes against the confusing feelings, forcing herself to lock them away.

‘Bevan and I want to ride toward the outer perimeter of Rionallís,’ Genevieve explained. ‘You may wish to take Lord de Manzano inside the tower and lead him up to the top. The view would let him see the landscape better.’

‘Will Father Angus mind?’ Brianna asked. The young priest had only recently taken over the church after the older priest had died.

‘I should imagine not. So long as you do not disturb the treasures within the round tower.’ The older woman sent her a warm conspiratorial smile, as if her matchmaking plans had come to fruition.

Startled, Brianna turned to her father. But he, too, seemed in agreement with his wife. ‘We’ll return within the hour. You should eat without us,’ Bevan said, lifting his wife back on to her horse.

From the way his hands lingered upon her waist and the look shared between them, Brianna suspected that they intended to do more than talk. Pushing that errant thought away, she told Arturo, ‘Come with me, and I’ll show you the inside.’

He held the rope ladder for her as she climbed up to the door, balancing the bundle of food between her arms. When they were inside, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. Sunlight entered through the open top of the tower, and she began climbing the endless stairs toward the single bell at the top. Arturo followed, but before they reached the third landing, he reached for her hand.

‘A moment, if you will.’

Brianna paused to catch her breath, setting down the food while Lord de Manzano stood on a stair below her. She waited for him to speak, and he said, ‘I wouldn’t have harmed your father during that fight.’

‘That’s what Genevieve said.’ She sat down on the stair with him just below her. ‘It’s why they left us alone. You gained his approval.’ It was a strange thought to imagine, for she’d never believed Bevan would permit it.

Somehow, Lord de Manzano had earned respect from the older warrior, though her husband, Murtagh, never had. Was it truly that Bevan believed sword fighting was more important than affection? Or was it the desire to keep his daughter protected?

‘I like your father,’ Arturo said. ‘He seems like a good man. And he’s a strong fighter, despite his age.’

‘He is.’ A smile curved over her face in the darkness.

Arturo took her hands and drew her to stand up. When he moved closer, it brought him closer to her face. At the nearness of him, Brianna started to let go of his hands.

‘Stay?’ he asked quietly. Moving closer, she felt his cheek come and rest against hers. ‘If things were different, I would take a kiss from you now.’ His words were warm against her face, and every part of her body seemed to respond to him. ‘I would hold you close and taste your sweet mouth, belleza. But I suspect that it would only feed the hunger I feel for you, instead of sating it.’

‘You know it’s too soon for me,’ she whispered.

‘I know. But there is no harm in speaking words.’

He was wrong. His words were invisible weapons, slicing through her defences, and reawakening her. The darkness enfolded them, and in her mind, she struggled against the memory of her last kiss. Murtagh had been affectionate, and she’d enjoyed making love with him. So much, that she understood what Lord de Manzano was offering—the freedom to take him as her lover, to fill up the emptiness inside her broken heart.

Desperately, she struggled to find the willpower that was slipping away. Arturo’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her close until her hands rested upon his chest.

‘It’s your choice, belleza. If you want me to kiss you, you’ll have to make the first move.’

Chapter Three

Brianna hesitated, and with every second that passed between them, she sensed the caged sensuality of him. Slowly, her hands moved up his chest, to the powerful shoulders, and then to rest upon his face. She drew her fingers over his lips and was rewarded with a light kiss upon her skin.

Inside, she was quaking. She wanted him, despite all the reasons it was a mistake. What he offered was only temporary. He was going to leave and nothing between them could last. He’d offered her an escape from the loneliness. But what lay broken inside her couldn’t be healed by one man’s touch.

‘Not yet,’ she whispered, holding his face between her hands.

The words hung between them in a promise she didn’t know if she could keep. Or if she should even try. She let go of him and picked up the bundle, continuing up the winding spiral stairs, until at last they reached the top. The wind was stronger here, and her hair whipped against her face. Arturo came up beside her, his hands resting upon the stone edge. He didn’t look at her, but she saw the tension in his posture.

When he saw the landscape before him, there was an invisible shift. He stared at the mottled green and snowy-white hills that shifted into flat-land, down to a grey sea. The faint smile upon his lips stole her breath away.

When he turned back, his dark eyes held hers captive. ‘It’s beautiful. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.’

She nodded, but couldn’t answer his smile. His earlier words resonated within her: You’ll have to make the first move.

Confusion spiralled inside her, wondering why he’d conjured up these lost feelings. It had been so easy to ignore the advances of other men of her clan. They were like brothers to her, kind men, but she couldn’t imagine being with one of them.

Not like Arturo de Manzano.

It must be because he had also lost someone. There was a bond between them, of facing the death of a loved one. The only difference was that he’d managed to lock away his grief and live again. The way she longed to.

She heard herself telling him of the different tribes that lived here. Of the Ó Phelans who had been an enemy when her father was young, and of how the MacEgans had grown stronger against the Norman forces.

‘They married their enemies,’ she said. ‘My father wed Genevieve, by order of King Henry.’

‘You speak of her as if she’s not your mother.’

Brianna shook her head. ‘No, she isn’t. My mother stole me away from my father when I was a young child. I didn’t understand what happened at the time, but she made choices she regretted. In the end, she took her own life, from her sadness.’

An unexpected flare of hurt gripped her heart. ‘I was alone for a time. I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong, that my mother would rather die than be with me.’

Arturo came up beside her, resting an arm over her shoulder. ‘You were just a child.’

‘I know. And Genevieve took me in, becoming my mother in all but blood.’ She accepted comfort from his presence, leaning her head against him.

‘You were fortunate to have your family,’ he said. ‘And they care a great deal for you.’ He reached for the bundle of food and opened it. She tore off a piece of bread and they sat down to eat, while she told him about the other places nearby.

‘Where is the Norse settlement?’ he asked.

The question jolted her from her mood and she pointed out the area near the woodlands. ‘It lies a half-day’s journey from Laochre. At one time, my great-grandfather’s sister wed one of them, and there was peace between us. Even when the Normans attacked, the Lochlannach kept to themselves.’

She faced him, keeping her voice steady. ‘But during the last few years, it’s been difficult. There have been raids on several occasions.’

‘Without success?’

She nodded. ‘King Patrick’s men kept them out. Last year, they attacked the homes on the outskirts.’ A chill came over her, and she gripped her shoulders. ‘Murtagh was … not a good fighter. He was the son of a miller, and though he was strong, he’d never had any training.’

Fixing her gaze away from him, she refused to let the dark feelings intrude. With her throat aching, she added, ‘One of the men stood apart from the others. Murtagh mistakenly thought he was the leader, and he went to challenge him while I stayed behind.’

In spite of her best efforts, a tear broke free. ‘I begged him to stop, but he charged the raider. The man’s spear caught him in the stomach, and it took hours for my husband to die.’ A harshness coated her voice. ‘I went to kill the Lochlannach, but the soldiers from Laochre held me back. The king drove them away, and they haven’t returned since.

‘A few days later, they sent gold as a body price for my husband’s death.’ Bitterness swelled within her, and she shook her head in disgust. ‘As if that would bring him back.’

‘Killing the Norseman won’t bring Murtagh back, either.’ His hand rested upon the small of her back, warming her.

‘Would you have waited at home, if an enemy had slain your wife?’ she questioned. ‘Or would you have avenged her?’

His silence was the answer she wanted to hear. Reaching for the flask of wine, she took a drink and passed it to him. His mouth rested upon the place where she’d sipped, and once again, she found herself watching him.

The wind rushed through the narrow space again, moving against the bells. She shivered at the cold and stood up. Arturo removed his own cloak and set it across her shoulders.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘It gives me a reason to hold a beautiful woman,’ he teased, drawing the cloak over her arms. He let his hands linger upon her, and the spicy scent of his skin quickened her blood. For a time, neither spoke, and she drew comfort from the heat of his body.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was Murtagh standing behind her. That it was his arms upon her shoulders and not a stranger’s. The nearness of him, and the instinct to touch, was dragging her away from reality.

When Brianna turned around, Arturo moved his hands on either side of her. In his sienna eyes, she saw the cloaked desire. He spoke to her in Spanish, words she didn’t understand. But his voice drew her in, blurring the lines she’d drawn around her life.

His hands rested upon the stone, waiting for her decision. Her body already knew the answer, though her mind was crying out for her to stop.

The endless days alone had weighed down upon her, making her no longer feel desirable to any man. But to Arturo, none of it mattered. He’d suffered the same losses she had, and he understood what she didn’t want to admit—that she craved human touch.

Without speaking a word, she went into his arms, resting her cheek against his broad chest. His mouth drifted against her hair in a light kiss. ‘I know, cariño.’

Did he? Did he truly know how difficult it was to reach out to another, feeling as if the ghost of her husband were watching?

‘He wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this. Admit it to yourself.’

She closed her eyes, knowing he spoke the truth. As she tried to pull away from his arms, he held her trapped for a moment. ‘Thank you for showing me this land of yours.’

She nodded, and he released her. As he bent to help her put away the food, he stopped to ask, ‘Were you curious?’

‘About what?’ She tied up the bundle and held it in one hand.

‘What it would have been like to kiss a man who wasn’t your husband?’

She faltered, but then steadied herself, recognising it as a teasing invitation. ‘No.’

‘Liar. I can see how you’re sacrificing yourself to his memory,’ he said softly. ‘Not allowing yourself to feel any happiness at all. You wear clothes without colour, and you don’t smile. You might as well take a step off the edge of this tower, for you seem intent upon letting the rest of your life slip away.’

Anger rushed through her, that he would dare accuse her of this. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’ The bundle slipped from her hands, and the flask of wine spilled upon the stones.

‘You won’t let anyone know you any more. You lock yourself away, don’t you? Because you feel guilty that you’re alive. And he isn’t.’

‘Yes, damn you.’ The anger raged from a place so deep inside, she struggled to control it. And when he dared to pity her, to rest a hand upon her cheek, Brianna was determined to prove him wrong.

She lifted her mouth to his, kissing him hard. Did he think she was a hollow shell with no feelings of her own? The salt of her tears mingled against their lips, but Arturo wasn’t about to let her use him to prove a point. Instead, he softened the kiss, capturing her mouth. Sensual and firm, he commanded the kiss, forcing away her broken memories until she was consumed by him. She let herself fall under his spell, opening to this stranger and finding the parts of her that needed him.

Her arms came around him, and she slid her tongue against his mouth, feeling the rush of heat when he answered her call. He took his time, savouring her mouth, his hands moving up her spine and down to her body. With the softest nudge, he drew her against the heated ridge of his arousal, and she couldn’t stop the shudder of answering desire.

In her mind, she imagined them naked, and what it would be like to be touched by him. To lift her leg over his hip and feel the sweet rush of his body entering hers. To forget the pain of the past and escape all of it for a single night that belonged only to him.

Arturo broke away, his dark eyes feasting upon her. She couldn’t catch her breath, and she sensed that the barest touch from him would send her over the edge, into the release she wanted so badly.

Her lips were bruised, swollen from his kiss. And she hated herself for feeling this way.

Arturo didn’t press Brianna any further, for both of them had the answers they’d sought. He’d sensed that she was a passionate, fierce woman, and he’d not been disappointed. But he wouldn’t push her. There was still hurt and anger inside her, from her husband’s death. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her, not when she was grieving.

He said nothing as they descended from the round tower. When they climbed down the rope ladder, her parents had returned from their own ride. Bevan took note of his daughter’s flushed face and swollen lips. While he made no remark, Arturo knew that there was a silent warning to tread carefully.

‘You’ll dine at Laochre this night, won’t you?’ Genevieve asked. ‘The feast is in honour of Liam and Adriana.’

‘Of course.’ When he bent to help Brianna on to her horse, this time, he lifted her up by the waist. He let his hands rest there for a single moment, and her green eyes flared with caution. Second thoughts had already taken root within her, and he respected her wishes, turning back to his own horse.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Bevan and Genevieve guided him throughout their lands, showing them their estate at Rionallís.

‘Do all of your brothers live nearby?’ he asked Bevan. ‘It seems that you’ve claimed a great deal of land in this region.’

‘Three of my brothers live nearby,’ Bevan agreed. ‘But Connor’s holdings lie further west. He often visits with his wife and children.’ He shielded his eyes against the late afternoon sun, watching over Genevieve and Brianna as they rode ahead.

When they were out of earshot, Bevan drew back to speak with Arturo privately. ‘If you hurt my daughter in any way, you’ll answer to me, Spaniard. She’s been isolating herself for the past few months, and this is the first time I’ve seen her leave Laochre. I won’t have you making her miserable.’

He met the older warrior’s penetrating gaze with his own steadiness. ‘She is a beautiful woman, and we understand each other.’ He saw the darkening disquiet brewing, and he continued, ‘I won’t deny that I wouldn’t mind taking a new wife back to Navarre. But the choice is hers. If she does not care to be courted, I won’t ask for more than she’s capable of giving.’ The words seemed to reassure the man, and he said nothing more.

They arrived back at Laochre Castle after nightfall. More people had arrived, and seeing the vast crowds, Arturo didn’t envy his sister. So many of the MacEgan tribe members were speculating about their wedding, and he knew Adriana loathed being the centre of attention.

Bevan and Genevieve went to speak with the king and queen, while Arturo gave their horses over to a young boy to be stabled. Brianna started to walk home, when he caught up to her. ‘Will you attend the feast this night?’

‘I don’t know,’ she hedged. ‘It’s been a long day and I’m tired.’

He lowered his voice. ‘I won’t apologise for kissing you earlier. But I vow that I won’t press you any further.’

‘It felt wrong,’ she whispered, opening the door to her home. The interior was dark, and after she lit an oil lamp, her breath clouded in the night air. Outside, a few sparse snowflakes drifted upon the wind. Brianna laid a few evergreen boughs over the hearth, and the heady scent of pine filled the room.

He didn’t know what to say. To him, the kiss had been deeply arousing, and she’d responded with her own passion.

‘You were the second man I’ve ever kissed,’ she confessed, her gaze turning downward. Arturo kept his distance, waiting for her to continue.

‘I gave in to temptation, and I lost myself in it. In that moment, I forgot about everything I intended to do. I betrayed his memory.’

‘He’s dead, Brianna.’ The words were cold, he knew, but he wanted to lash out against the pedestal she’d set her husband upon. ‘He can’t blame you for wanting to live again.’

‘I know it.’ Her voice came out in a whisper. ‘Murtagh was a kind man. But sometimes I can’t sleep at night, thinking of how he died.’ She crossed the room to stand in front of him. ‘You said you loved your wife.’

‘I wouldn’t have minded growing old with her.’ He rested his hand against the door. ‘But as the years passed, I knew she wouldn’t have wanted me to be lonely and never have children of my own.’

Brianna was listening to his words, and within the golden light of the lamp, her face grew pensive. ‘Perhaps.’

He moved toward her and tilted her face toward his. Leaning down, he brushed a light kiss upon her lips. ‘I won’t apologise for that, either.’

She caught his hand before he could leave. Though she looked embarrassed and a little nervous, she held his palm, as if pleading with him.

I need more time, her eyes seemed to say. Arturo studied her, wondering if the two of them could possibly heal the loneliness in each other.

Brianna sat in the dim light of her hut, with a small fire burning within the hearth stones. She touched her fingertips to her lips, the confusion filling up inside her. Ever since Arturo de Manzano had come to Ireland, he’d shaken her life apart. She hadn’t wanted to be attracted to the handsome stranger, but she was drawn to him in ways she didn’t understand.

The kiss had evoked sensations she’d forgotten, making her stare at the lonely bed with regret. Her thoughts confused her, tearing her apart with longing for a husband and children … and wanting to avenge Murtagh’s death.

She rose from her seat and donned a mantle, pulling the hood over her hair. A walk was what she needed right now. A chance to clear her head and breathe in the frigid night air.

But when she reached the inner bailey, she found utter chaos. Connor MacEgan was gathering up a group of men. His face was lined with worry, and his wife, Aileen, stood nearby with her hands gripped together.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

‘It’s Rhiannon,’ Aileen confessed. ‘She went out on her own yesterday and still hasn’t returned. I pray nothing has happened to her. I can’t imagine anything worse than finding her hurt or …’ Her voice trailed off with fear.

Connor barked an order to a group of soldiers, commanding them to search the different parts of Laochre.

Brianna recalled her cousin’s enigmatic words, that she planned to seek her own husband. ‘Have you spoken with my brother and sister? They were with her yesterday.’

Connor nodded. ‘They were separated during the snowfall and thought she returned last night. We’ve sent out small groups to search, but haven’t found anything.’ In his eyes, she saw the unfathomable fear for his eldest daughter.

‘What about the island? Could she have gone there?’

‘We searched there already.’ He shook his head, his face turning grim. ‘Now, we’ve sent men to Gall Tír.’

A cold chill spiralled into her stomach. ‘She wouldn’t go there.’ The idea of her cousin seeking shelter among the Lochlannach was unthinkable.

‘I’ll search every last blade of grass until she’s found,’ Connor said. His brothers Patrick and Bevan joined his side.

‘There was no sign of her along the coast,’ the king said. Placing his hand on Connor’s shoulder, he said, ‘We’re postponing the feast tonight until Rhiannon is safely home with us.’

‘We’ll find her,’ Brianna said softly. ‘I’m certain of it.’

‘I pray you’re right.’

A few hours after dawn, Rhiannon returned. Tired and silent, she would not say where she’d gone, but that she’d found shelter on her own. Her father, Connor, had raged at her for causing them worry, but not a word would she say.

Not to them.

But when Brianna met her cousin alone, while they hung greenery around the castle, she whispered, ‘I’m so glad you’re all right.’ With a pause, she predicted, ‘You met someone, didn’t you?’

Her cousin froze, holding a pine bough. Instead of sharing the secret, Rhiannon looked stricken. All she would admit was, ‘I was lost in the forest, and he rescued me. It was too dark to find my way back, so I stayed with him.’ But she wouldn’t meet Brianna’s eyes, as if consumed by guilt.

‘Was he handsome?’ she prompted again, trying to understand what had happened.

‘He was … like no one I’ve ever met before.’ A mask of determination came over Rhiannon’s face. ‘I’m going to see him again. I don’t care what anyone says.’

‘I’ll give you my help, if you’ll tell me who he is and where you were.’

Rhiannon reached for another pine branch, sadness spreading over her face. ‘I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t approve of him. Nor would anyone else.’

‘Then why risk it? You only just met him.’

‘Sometimes a few nights is all it takes.’ Rhiannon finished with the greenery and added, ‘He needs me. Like no one ever has.’ A flush came over her cheeks, and she sent Brianna a soft smile before returning outside.

Arturo entered the donjon, casting a glance at Rhiannon before he greeted Brianna. ‘They found her, I see.’

She nodded, noticing that he was wearing chainmail armour again. The silver links outlined his muscular form, and she tried to push away the traitorous thoughts. But when her gaze slipped up to his mouth, the shield of her willpower began to crack apart. His lean, tanned face held a bristled texture from not shaving. ‘If you keep staring at me like that, belleza, I’ll forget the reason I came to see you.’

‘What was it?’

‘Did you still want a lesson in fighting?’ He eyed her manner of dress, as if it were unsuitable for what he’d planned.

‘I do, yes.’

‘Then come.’ Arturo extended his hand, and Brianna left her basket of greenery behind. Outside, the sky was heavily clouded, an omen of more snow. He led her through the grounds until they reached the training area.

To her delight, she saw her Aunt Honora, dressed in lightweight armour. Beside her stood Uncle Ewan and their two children.

Brianna welcomed them and complimented the little girl’s miniature léine and overdress, trimmed with ribbon and silk. The child curtsied prettily, then walked demurely off to join the other children.

‘I believe the faeries switched my daughter by mistake,’ Honora remarked. ‘Lora has no interest in fighting, but spends all her time sewing and behaving like a lady. My sister’s daughter hates gowns and cut her own hair with a knife, pretending to be a boy.’

Glancing at Honora’s armour, Brianna offered, ‘I suppose Lora doesn’t want to learn to fight.’

‘No, but my son does.’ Her hands rested on the boy’s shoulders. ‘Kieran has begun his fostering, and I believe he’ll be a strong warrior one day.’

‘Like his mother,’ Ewan teased, kissing his wife. He greeted all of them and then said, ‘I’ll leave you ladies to spar with one another.’ Taking his son’s hand, he departed the grounds.

While Honora led her through a few training exercises, Brianna was intensely aware of Arturo watching. She moved, feeling the heat of his gaze upon her.

‘He’s a good match for you,’ Honora murmured, adjusting Brianna’s hands upon the spear. ‘A Spaniard, is he?’

She nodded. ‘But we’re just friends.’

Honora sent her a sidelong glance and murmured, ‘He wants to be more than that, from the way he’s watching you. But is that what you want?’

Colour rose over her face. ‘I don’t know.’

‘The solstice will be celebrated in a few hours,’ Honora reminded her. ‘The night will be longer than usual. And you know what that means.’

She did. After spending most of the afternoon and night in darkness, the wine prompted men and women to spend time in each other’s arms. It loosened inhibitions, and often wicked games were played on that night. Many believed that a woman was more fertile, more open to conceiving a child upon the winter solstice.

Brianna shivered, unsure of whether she wanted to join in or not. A part of her wanted to cast aside the past and spend one night without the burden of sadness. She wanted to be like the other women, celebrating the midwinter with joy. But if she succumbed to Arturo’s invitation, she knew it would not ease her grief. It would only tempt her more.

She forced her attention away from the thought. Grasping the spear, she practised thrusting it into the bag of sand, over and over. In her mind, she imagined the cold eyes of the Viking, and promised herself that if he ever set foot upon Laochre again, it would be his last moment alive.

The longer she practised, the more her body grew warm with perspiration. She was conscious of the way Arturo was eyeing her, and she quickened her pace to try to block out the distraction of him.

‘You’ve done enough,’ Honora pronounced, reaching for the spear. ‘Go and prepare yourself for the celebration.’

Arturo was waiting, and he held out a flask of cool wine. Without a word, he gave it to her, and she drank, tasting the sweet fermented grapes while he watched.

‘Will I see you tonight?’ he asked.

She nodded, her hand brushing against his as she gave back the wine. Already the day was waning, the night moving ever closer. He shadowed her as she returned home, and when she reached the door, she stopped for a moment. ‘On this night, we sometimes exchange gifts.’

‘There is one I brought with me from Navarre,’ he said. ‘I believe it will please you.’

‘I have nothing to offer in return,’ she said. ‘I fear that—’

Leaning in against her cheek, he murmured, ‘There is only one gift I want from you, belleza. And you already know what it is.’

A night in her arms. She couldn’t suppress the tremble that fired within her skin at the thought. He tempted her more than he should. And she suspected, if she were to ignore the voices of reason, claiming one night to fight against the loneliness, it would change her for ever. She would want more from him.

When he departed, she closed the door and lowered the bar across it. The fire had burned low, and she added peat to it, the bitter aroma filling up the room. She set a kettle of water to heat, and pulled out a gown she’d not worn in many years.

The overdress was dark green, the colour of evergreen branches with a gold léine meant to be worn beneath it. Made of the finest silk, Brianna had put it away after her marriage, for it only reminded Murtagh of the difference in their status. She’d thought about selling it but never had.

Tonight, it seemed fitting to wear it. She didn’t know what decision she would make about Arturo, but she wanted to look her best.

While the water was heating, she removed her clothing until she stood naked before the fire. She sat upon a low stool and brought the bucket of warmed water beside her. With a sea sponge, she dipped it in the water and began to wash.

The droplets slid lazily over her skin, puckering her nipples. She washed away the grit and sweat, and with the cleansing, her mind fell into a greater turmoil.

Arturo was right. Murtagh wouldn’t have wanted her to bury herself away from life. He’d have wanted her to seek happiness.

She wept openly as she drew the sponge over her naked skin, grieving for what she’d lost. For her husband and the love they’d shared. For the child she’d never conceived. And for the woman she’d let herself become.

When her bathing ritual was finished, she walked naked across the room and reached for a small wooden box, given to her by Rhiannon’s mother, Aileen. Inside it lay healing herbs and a few vials of oil. She reached for one and poured a few droplets on to her fingertips. The soft fragrance reminded her of summer wildflowers as she anointed her throat, sliding her hands over her bare skin.

The solstice was here, and outside she could hear the sounds of her kinsmen celebrating. She pulled on her shift, followed by the golden léine and the emerald overdress. Reaching behind her, she struggled with the laces of the outer gown. Last, she unbraided her hair, letting it slide across her shoulders in waves, falling just above her waist.

With a last glance at the spear resting in the corner, she steadied herself for the night ahead.

Chapter Four

The castle was filled with candles. Arturo stepped inside the Great Chamber and saw nearly fifty hollowed-out turnips with beeswax candles burning brightly. Greenery and holly were hung throughout the room, and mistletoe sprigs were tucked within the boughs. Lady Genevieve and another woman nearly the same age, were both seated upon the dais, playing a lilting tune upon their harps.

Someone handed him a cup of mead, and he spied a group of people sitting on the floor near a giant of a bard who was telling stories with a small boy on his lap. Adriana stood on the far side of the room, wearing a gown the colour of silver. Although the feast was in her honour, she seemed less nervous around the guests. Liam kept his arm around his bride, and wonder spread over her face at the sight of the festivities.

The gleaming candles cast a spell over the night, transforming it into a hallowed magic. Arturo’s gaze passed over the people, searching for Brianna. When at last he spied her, she stole his breath away. Dressed in green and gold, the gown outlined her curves, while her black hair was crowned with a wreath. Her cheeks were rosy from the warmth of the room, and a smile played upon her mouth as she looked around at the decorated chamber.

The queen passed through the crowd to greet her, and she tucked a sprig of white berries into Brianna’s wreath. The young woman laughed and embraced Isabel, giving Arturo the chance to approach them.

‘I have gifts for both of you,’ he said, bowing before the queen. Isabel drew back and merriment glimmered in her eyes.

‘Something from Navarre?’

He nodded. ‘There is a special wine I’ve brought with me. As well as these.’ Opening the small bag he carried, he showed them the oranges.

Isabel reached for one, fascinated by the fruit. ‘I’ve never tasted one before.’

‘Remove the peel with a knife,’ he advised. ‘You’ll find the fruit sweet and filled with juice.’ The queen thanked him for the gift, and he took one orange back, before handing the remainder to Isabel.

When they were alone, he gave the last orange to Brianna. She held the sphere in her palm, studying it with interest. ‘Am I meant to try this now?’

Arturo took it back. ‘Later, I’ll share it with you.’ He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. ‘When we’re alone.’

A slight moue of worry creased her lips. ‘Perhaps.’

With their hands joined, she led him through the Great Chamber, introducing him to her extended family. He came to understand that she had five uncles, and all of them were married with sons and daughters of their own. The MacEgan tribe spread throughout southeast Ireland, and three of the five men were married to Norman brides.

As the night continued, they feasted upon beef that had been freshly slaughtered the day before. There were platters of roasted geese and boiled goose eggs, as well as fish, eels, and tart apples. He chose food for Brianna, offering her the best portions. As they ate and drank, he saw her beginning to relax and enjoy herself.

‘Is it always like this?’ he asked.

‘Usually. Last year I didn’t celebrate with them,’ she admitted. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’

‘And now?’

‘It still hurts to be here without Murtagh,’ she said. ‘But it’s easier to bear it with a friend.’

Arturo squeezed her hand, though he didn’t want to be her friend this night. The kiss she’d given him had haunted him all last night and this day. He didn’t know where it would lead, and already he was letting his mind spin off with ideas of bringing her back to Navarre. But he didn’t know if she would want to leave her home and family.

The music ceased after a time, and several couples had left the Great Chamber. From the over-bright faces of the men and women, many had enjoyed the wine he’d sent. The king moved to the centre of the dais and lifted his hand. Several men raised a knee as a gesture of respect, and the crowd drew back, forming a small space in the front of the Chamber.

‘It is time for the competitions,’ Patrick declared. ‘All men wishing to join in, should come forward.’

Arturo sent Brianna a questioning look, and she nodded in encouragement. While he wasn’t certain whether the competitions involved fighting, he felt confident in his abilities. The other MacEgan men joined him, as well as Liam. Turning to the man beside him, he asked, ‘What must we do?’

‘You’ll see,’ Ewan replied.

One by one, the women approached. He saw Brianna and Adriana, as well as Honora and the other wives. Several women began adjusting their skirts, using ribbons to tie them to their ankles. It wasn’t until the first contest began that he realised what was happening. The women were competing for the right to choose a man.

‘What happens if the wrong woman chooses you?’ he asked Ewan, who stood beside him.

‘My wife is the strongest fighter among them,’ Ewan countered. ‘She’d bring down any woman who dared to ask for me.’ Sending him a teasing look, he added, ‘And would you really complain if a beautiful woman asked you to be hers for the night?’

Arturo shrugged in answer, but he wasn’t so certain. Brianna wasn’t nearly as strong as her opponents, and he didn’t know if she was willing to fight for him. Though the MacEgan wives chose their husbands, he saw several unmarried women eyeing him. One winked as she faced off against Adriana. His sister struggled against the woman, trying to fight in a more womanly manner. But when the maiden rolled Adriana to the ground and sat upon her, his sister grasped the woman’s hair and yanked hard, jerking her away. A smile crossed Liam’s face as his bride began fighting with more aggression, until she held the woman pinned to the dirt.

After the fight ended, Adriana moved to Liam, who claimed her in a fierce kiss. The cheers resounding in the Hall showed their approval of his choice of a bride.

Arturo paid little heed to the next fight, for he didn’t know either of the women. But to his startled surprise, the winner of the match came forward and took his hand. A roar of laughter resounded from the men.

The woman was quite young, possibly seventeen, with braided red hair. If she knew that his choice was Brianna, she didn’t seem to care. With mischief in her eyes, she started to lead him away.

‘Choose another man, cariño,’ he told her.

‘You don’t have a choice.’ She wrapped her arms around his neck and said, ‘I claim a kiss as my reward.’

Baffled, Arturo looked back at the other men. They were laughing at him, offering no help at all. Brianna had disappeared from the crowd, and he didn’t know where she’d gone.

The others were waiting for him, and the maiden had her lips puckered, waiting for the kiss. Arturo cupped her face, lifting it up. All were watching him, and when he pressed a kiss upon the maiden’s forehead, she challenged, ‘Is that how the men kiss in your country?’

‘You didn’t say where the kiss was supposed to be,’ he pointed out, and she sent him a furious glare. He hadn’t really intended to embarrass her, but she’d taken away Brianna’s opportunity.

A young girl cleared her throat, interrupting them. ‘My sister Brianna went home,’ the girl informed him, ‘but do not fear. I put a charm in her wreath that will make her love you.’

There was seriousness in her face, and Arturo bent down. ‘I thank you for your assistance.’ At the girl’s warm smile, he found himself amused by her belief in magic.

‘You are the one for her,’ the girl promised. ‘I know it, for it was in the bones I cast.’

In answer, Arturo lifted her hand to kiss it. ‘Then I should go after her, shouldn’t I?’

The young girl’s eyes widened, and she hurried back to her parents. Arturo moved through the crowd and after searching the inner bailey and the castle grounds, he found her walking amid the snow.

‘Brianna,’ he called out.

She stopped, but didn’t turn around. Gripping the long sleeves of her gown against the cold, she stood in place until he reached her side.

‘Why did you leave?’

She didn’t answer at first, and when he saw her shudder from the cold, he drew his arm around her. It encouraged him that she didn’t pull away. ‘Not out of jealousy,’ she said. ‘You’ve the right to choose any woman you please.’

‘And if I’ve already chosen?’ He slid his arm around her waist.

The words hung between them, and she gave no answer for a long time. ‘If it’s a new wife you’re wanting, you should choose one of them. Someone who will add joy to your life.’ She stepped away from his arms, walking slowly toward one of the other homes.

He didn’t like the direction of this conversation. It sounded as if she’d already given up. ‘And you felt nothing at all when you kissed me yesterday?’

She let out a heavy breath. With a hand, she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, beneath the wreath of greenery. ‘I did. And that’s what bothers me.’

He wanted to go to her, but she had to make this decision on her own. Instead, he held back, watching over her. Amid the drifting snowflakes, there came the cry of an infant. Nothing at all unusual, but the sound stilled him. He heard the sounds of a mother soothing the child, and regret tightened within him.

Had Cristina lived, he might have held a son or daughter of his own. He might have taken the child upon his shoulders, soothing its cries.

Brianna turned and seemed to read his thoughts. The infant continued to fuss, and she glanced toward the sound. ‘Are you all right?’

His expression tightened, but he nodded. From a fold of his cloak, he held out the orange to her. ‘Take it, and go home, Brianna.’

But she made no move toward the fruit. She drew closer, studying him. ‘You said your wife died in childbirth.’

The edge of grief closed upon him, the cries of the infant grinding against his memories. ‘She did.’

‘Was it a son or a daughter?’ She moved closer, and if she knew what her questions were doing to him, she made no effort to stop.

‘I never knew.’ He shook his head, for the babe had died inside her. Often he wondered if he’d made the right decision not to let the healer cut into Cristina. They’d known that the babe was already dead, and he’d not wanted to desecrate his wife’s body.

Brianna caught his wrist and held it. Whether she was offering her sympathy or something more, he couldn’t tell. ‘Why do you ask me these questions, Brianna?’

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘I’m trying to understand you.’

He took her face between his hands. ‘I grieved for them until it nearly destroyed me.’

The sorrow in her eyes mirrored what he’d felt over the past few years. Even so, her hands came to rest upon his chest in silent understanding.

‘I know what you have suffered,’ he continued. ‘And if you wish it, I would try to ease your pain. For however long I remain in Ireland.’

She stared at him, the indecision etched upon her face. ‘I know what you want from me, Arturo. But I can’t change what I feel inside.’

His hands came to rest upon hers. ‘Do you want me to stay?’

For a time, she didn’t answer. The intensity in his eyes allured her, making her want to set aside the past and begin anew. Already she knew the taste of his kiss and the soft swirl of desire that reached into her heart, offering a night to forget.

Even so, her courage faltered.

‘If you stay, I would be using you to forget my grief,’ she confessed. ‘You don’t deserve that. You should be with a woman who can give you the love I can’t. There’s nothing left within me.’

‘Belleza, are you afraid of me touching you?’

‘I’m afraid of the way I feel in your arms.’ She sensed that he would take her to a place where her mind would have no voice, where she would forget everything except the devastating pleasures of her body.

He lifted her hands to his mouth, and she felt the warmth of his breath upon her fingertips. ‘Then I’ll take you home.’

A wisp of regret slipped beneath her defences. This man confused her, offering her glimpses of a life she wanted. But she didn’t know if she had the courage to reach for it.

With their hands joined, he led her back to her hut while snowflakes spun upon the wind, coating her lashes and hair. In the darkness, they walked in silence until they reached her home. Arturo raised her hand to his mouth in farewell and turned to go.

‘Wait.’ Her voice came out in the smallest whisper. She reached out and touched his shoulder, so very frightened of what she was about to do. ‘The orange,’ she reminded him.

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