Surrender to an Irish Warrior. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
told it to others, year after year. Morren’s trembling grew calmer when he used his voice to soothe her.
‘Dagda was a god who invoked goodness among the earth and in the fields,’ Trahern murmured. ‘But one day he saw a beautiful woman whom he desired as no other before. Her name was Eithne.’
Trahern wrung out a cold cloth and set it upon Morren’s forehead, careful not to touch her skin. He told the story, using every nuance of his voice to capture her attention.
He spoke of the god who seduced Eithne and gave her a son. Trahern continued until his voice was nearly hoarse, stopping just before dawn.
Morren shuddered, struggling as the fever drew her deeper. She thrashed on the small pallet, her face tight with pain.
‘Don’t,’ he ordered her. ‘You’re not going to give up now.’
‘I’ve no wish to die,’ she whispered, leaning forward when he offered her another sip of water. Her skin was flushed hot, her body limp and weakened. ‘I have to look after my sister.’
She lifted her eyes to his. They were a deep blue, the colour of the sea. Within them, he saw a rigid strength to match his own.
‘You’re going to live,’ he insisted.
Her expression was glazed with fever, but she pleaded with him, ‘Trahern, when my sister returns, don’t tell her about the child.’
Whatever he’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. His mouth tightened into a line. ‘How could she not already know?’
‘I…hid it from her. Jilleen knows what happened to me on the night of the raid. She doesn’t need to know about the child—she’s only thirteen.’
‘She’s old enough. And it will fall to her, to take care of you after this.’ He couldn’t stay with her indefinitely.
‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Say nothing.’
His hand clenched into a fist. ‘I can make no such promise.’
Chapter Two
The next morning and afternoon went by with still no sign of her sister. Worries eroded her conscience, and Morren tried to convince Trahern to leave.
‘Jilleen is just a girl,’ she argued. ‘She shouldn’t be travelling alone.’ Her own wild fears came back to haunt her, of all the things that could happen to her sister. ‘You have to bring her back.’
‘One more day.’ Trahern folded his arms across his chest. ‘I won’t leave you behind when you’re still unwell.’
‘I’m afraid for her, Trahern. Please.’
‘Not until you’re strong enough.’ He held out a plate of food, but Morren could hardly bring herself to eat any of the dried venison or the tart apples he’d brought. ‘Try to eat.’
She forced herself to pick at a piece of the venison. ‘Why did you come back?’ The meat tasted bland, and she struggled to chew it.
‘I came to avenge her death.’
She knew he meant Ciara. ‘How did you hear of it?’
‘Her brother sent word. I want to know the rest.’
She saw the terrible expression on his face and held her tongue. Some things were better left unremembered.
‘Tell me,’ he ordered. ‘You were there.’
‘No.’ She saw no reason to torment him. It wouldn’t change Ciara’s fate.
Irritation flashed over his face. ‘I’ve the right to know what happened to her. We were betrothed.’
She kept silent, meeting his gaze with her own stubbornness.
‘I want to know everything,’ he insisted. ‘And I will revisit the same upon my enemies tenfold.’ The ferocity of his glare left her no doubt that he meant what he said.
‘Tomorrow,’ she murmured. ‘Take me back to Glen Omrigh, and help me find Jilleen. Then I’ll tell you what you wish to know.’
‘You’ll tell me now.’
‘Or what?’ she taunted. He could say nothing to threaten her. The worst had already happened.
Fury flashed over Trahern’s face and he strode outside, slamming the door behind him. When he’d gone, Morren drew her knees up. The pain had abated, though the dizziness remained. She reached for another piece of meat, forcing herself to choke it down.
You have to live, she told herself. For Jilleen.
Her hands moved to her midsection once more, and the soft, sunken skin bruised her spirits. After the massive bleeding, she didn’t know if she would ever be able to bear another child.
It didn’t matter. No man would want her, after what had happened, and she had no wish to let anyone touch her.
Slowly, Morren eased her feet to the side of the bed, wondering if she had the strength to stand. She set both hands on the edge, gingerly easing her feet down.
The door opened, and Trahern stopped short. ‘Don’t even consider it. You’re too weak.’
He moved towards her, and out of instinct, Morren shrank from him, pulling her legs back onto the bed.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ he swore. ‘But you’ll never make it back to Glen Omrigh if you exert yourself too soon.’
He moved over by the hearth, adding more wood to the fire. His shoulders flexed with hardly any effort at all as he arranged the oak logs into a small stack.
‘It’s just a fever,’ she said. ‘It will go away in a few days.’
He crouched by the hearth, eyeing her. ‘You said your mother was a healer. What would she have done for you?’
‘Raspberry-leaf tea, I suppose. Or willow bark, if the fever got too hot.’
He shrugged. ‘I saw neither when I was out getting water. I’m sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She would find them herself, if the bleeding continued. It seemed to be lessening.
Trahern stopped arranging the wood for a moment. The firelight gleamed against his head, and she wondered why he’d shaved his hair and beard. The clothing he wore was hardly more than a slave would wear, as though he cared nothing for his appearance.
He grieved for Ciara, she realised. He’d loved her.
Morren studied him, not understanding how such a fierce, hot-tempered man could stay at her side all night telling stories. Amidst the smothering fever, she’d heard his deep voice. It had reached within her, giving her something to hold on to. She let her gaze fall over his face, noticing the worn lines and exhaustion. He hadn’t slept at all, using the captivating tale to ease her pain. And something within her was grateful for it.
‘Where are the others?’ he asked. ‘Your kinsmen?’
‘Jilleen and I have no one else. Our parents are both dead.’
He returned to her bedside, holding out the food once more. ‘How long have you been living here?’
She took one of the apples, with no true intent of eating it. ‘Since the attack happened, in early summer.’
‘And you’ve been here alone since then?’
‘Yes.’ Morren’s gaze fixed upon his. ‘I don’t know how many of the Ó Reillys are left.’ The only person she’d wanted near her, after that night, was Jilleen. She hadn’t returned to the cashel after they’d fled, nor to St Michael’s Abbey. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know of her shame.
‘After we find your sister, you should stay at Glen Omrigh,’ Trahern said quietly.