Pádraig glanced down and took a big breath, almost as if composing himself before delivering some important message. When he looked up, she cowered at his fierce expression. Without warning, he moved in close, obstructing the view of the others with his large body. She caught his sly smile just before he clutched his hands around her throat. He pulled her back behind the building, and though she grabbed at the hands squeezing her throat, she was powerless to stop him. Finally, he released her neck and shoved her against the house. She sucked in air at the release, outrage coiling in her gut.
“Yer mother has everything to do with this! Ye thought ye could do better than me with Marcán? ’Tis of no account to me who yer wandering eye has settled on now, as ye are by now betrothed to me.”
“I am not!” Her tears came through in her voice. “I would never marry ye!”
“Yer mother and I are in agreement.”
“My mother oversteps her bounds if she has made an agreement with ye.”
“Ye. Are. Not. Hearing. Me.”
When he stepped closer, Astrid trembled.
“Heed me well! Beibhinn and I understand each other, and she assures me there will be no other.”
Astrid’s jaw was clamped so tight, it ached. He gripped her arm to drag her toward the outbuildings. Short of digging in her heels and screaming for help, she had no escape, and doing so would cause the same problems now as it would have when Faolán had first interrupted him. When he angled them toward the storage building, her heart sank.
No! Not where she’d made love with Marcán.
Servants moved about, but they were readying themselves to join the celebration, small as it would be, of the warriors’ return and paid them no attention. No doubt they saw nothing unusual with Astrid speaking with Pádraig. And he seemed content to tarry with her in the shadow of the little building now, biding his time until the others left.
Once alone, Pádraig released her arm. She rubbed the burning skin but refused to face him.
“Not so interested in me now, little one?”
She sneered at him. He slid his hot hand down her throat, continuing over her breast, and she grabbed his wrist with both hands to stop him.
He smirked, pressing his length against her. “Are ye showing me disrespect, even while I hold yer life in my hands?”
Lost to her fear of what he might do, she couldn’t respond.
“Release my arm,” he said.
Astrid dropped her hands in defeat. His hand continued its assault, fondling her even as he lowered his voice to a seductive tone. “Just who do ye think ye are, little one? Ye think to deny my father’s request that ye come to him? Even after my sister travels to ye in the rain?”
Struggling with her fear, she could barely squeeze the words out. “Yer father knows me. It was a ruse to again get me alone!”
“Hah! Listen to the timid little mouse speaking her mind and yet… look?” The arrogant dog turned to the left, then the right, before moving his face in closer. “Yearealone with me.Veryalone.”
“Not if I scream.” Astrid felt the stirrings of courage in her gut. She envisioned a number of people stepping up to intervene if she did just that.
“And yet I know ye won’t.” He whispered into her ear like a lover. “I wonder… if I’d had my way with ye that night? Would I even want ye now?”
A sob escaped, and he pulled back to search her face, but she refused to look away, even as hot tears of frustration slid down her cheeks. If that was all he wanted, why would he agree to a union between them? A high price, indeed, to pay just to possess her. Was it taking her virginity that he sought? A bit too late for that. Would his learning that be enough to turn him away?
“I would never mistreat Daimhin,” he said, his stilted words revealing his irritation with her, “sending her out into the rain for my own selfish pleasure. ’Twas my father’s wish that ye come to him. He liked the idea of our joining. He remembers yer mother as well.”
“Then ye are jeopardizing much by treating me this way. If ye are caught, they will kill ye.”
“I jeopardize nothing.” He raised both his brows. “I want to feel ye again, Astrid.” He gripped her breasts with both hands, pressing his palms into her, snuggling his face against her neck when she turned away.
Her stomach tightened. She was going to be sick. When he pressed his stiffened prick against her, she feared she would not be able to stop him.
“I would take ye now. Here. But for the promise I made to yer mother.”
A crowd of warriors came around the house just a stone’s throw away, laughing and talking, and Pádraig stepped back. His hands were at his sides, but his gaze searched her face. He raised his brows as if to question her. Her nostrils flared.
“Is this why Marcán kept ye in his sights? Ye are too timid to seek help if it puts someone else in danger.” Pádraig’s expression was intent on her. When he quirked a brow and his lips began to curl up, her irritation shifted into a black rage, sitting like a snake in the pit of her stomach, rearing its head and demanding to be heard. Courage raced through her veins.
