“I blame myself,” she whispered. “Not you.” She reached out to him and he held her close, stroking her back. She rested her cheek upon his chest, as if absorbing comfort from him. And he began another tale, this one of his own making.
“There was a prince, long ago,” he began, “who had a hundred concubines.” He paused, waiting for her to respond. Hoping he could distract her with a story, easing the physical tension in her body.
She waited for long moments, then asked, “Tell me.”
Trahern lifted the fur coverlet over her. “Each night, he took a different lover. But no matter how beautiful the women were, he was unsatisfied. And one day, he met a young Bedouin maiden in the marketplace. She was fleeing from a horse trader, a man who wanted to marry her. Her name was Lilith.”
Morren curled both palms beneath her cheek, listening to his story. She looked innocent, and her lips were parted with interest.
Trahern found himself wanting to kiss her again, to touch the curves of her body and awaken her to a sensual pleasure. One that would help her to see that lovemaking could be breathtaking.
“The trader and his men had nearly caught up to Lilith, but the prince reached down and lifted her onto his horse. He carried her to safety.”
“He protected her,” she whispered. She leaned on one arm, still watching him.
“The prince was captivated by her beauty, though he knew no man had ever touched her. He wanted to keep her for himself.
“He wanted to gift her with the finest silks and jewels, using whatever means he could, to win her heart.”
“And did he?” Morren reached out and touched his chest with her hand. When she did, it was as if she’d reached inside him, to take his own heart. The past crumbled away, leaving room for nothing else but her. This frightened woman, who needed him as badly as he needed her. It shook him to the core, when he realized what had happened.
“Did he win her love?” Morren whispered again. Her hand fell away from his chest, and Trahern felt as though someone had poured mud into his veins, choking out everything. He couldn’t think right now.
“I’ll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow,” he promised. He laid down with his back to her. With every last fiber of determination, he forced the desire back.
And just as he closed his eyes, trying to grasp at sleep, he felt the warmth of a fur coverlet that she’d slid over him.
Trahernavoidedherforthe next several days. He kept to his side of the tent, while Morren remained on hers. From time to time, she would awaken at night to feel his warm body pressed against hers. Though she’d shied away at first, in time, she’d grown accustomed to it.
He’d never intentionally slept beside her. It was simply that the tent was too small for a man of his size to avoid her. Any slight movement would bring him close. In time, she felt the need to sleep in his arms.
On the last night, after she was certain he was asleep, she’d moved beside him to share in his body warmth. The nights had grown so much colder, it made it easier to endure the frigid ground. And there was something reassuring about having his large form beside her. She’d snuggled close to him, her mind drifting back to the night when he’d touched her more intimately. His hand had caressed her nipple.
Her first reaction had been to push him away. But just thinking of him, remembering the feelings of arousal, made her wonder if she’d been too quick to deny him. Trahern wouldn’t have hurt her; she knew that.
What would have happened if she’d allowed him to continue? She closed her eyes, trying to imagine his broad hands sliding over her skin. Awakening her.
When she was growing up, she’d overheard her friends gossiping about being with a man. They’d flushed and giggled, laughing about how it was to take a lover. There had been no pain in their experiences, no feelings of being abused.
Morren felt cheated, for her only carnal knowledge was of being punished and discarded. She tucked her head beneath Trahern’s chin, curling up into his body. In the midst of his sleep, a heavy arm came down around her. He encircled her in an embrace that warmed her, holding her close.
And a secret smile curved over her mouth as she succumbed to sleeping beside him.
Chapter Fifteen
Justbeforedawn,Morrenmoved back to her side of the tent, saying nothing to Trahern about sleeping beside him. They’d continued their travels, but that morning, he’d seemed edgier than usual. Once or twice, she’d caught him looking at her, but she couldn’t guess at his veiled thoughts.
It took almost until mid-morning before they reached Laochre, the home of Trahern’s brother King Patrick. Once they reached the land boundaries, Morren noticed an immediate transformation in Trahern. He quickened the pace of his mount, as if eager to see his family. She followed beside him, craning her neck to look at the stone castle.
It reminded her of the Norman castles she’d seen in the north, and those from England. Powerful and imposing, the structure would keep away any coastal invaders.
When they reached the inner bailey, a woman came forward to greet them. Her veiled hair was covered with a silver circlet and a matching torque at her throat. With a warm smile and brown eyes that revealed happiness at Trahern’s arrival, the woman embraced him. “Trahern, I’m so happy you’re home.” She drew back to look at him, examining him with critical eyes. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.” When she risked a glance at Morren, the woman’s expression turned curious.
Trahern ignored the unspoken question, saying, “My queen, you look as beautiful as ever.”
Her mouth twisted in an amused smile. “Why are you still calling me queen, Trahern, when you know full well that I prefer Isabel?”
“Queen Isabel,” he said, emphasizing her title, “this is Morren Ó Reilly.” He introduced the remaining men, but Morren didn’t miss the note of distrust when he offered Gunnar’s name.
