Warriors In Winter: In the Bleak Midwinter. Michelle Willingham
‘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