Warriors In Winter: In the Bleak Midwinter. Michelle Willingham
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