Darragh’s expression was intense, as if he were looking right into her soul.
She swallowed against the uncomfortable feeling. “I need to get back to my duties.”
Brighit flattened the few dandelions she’d collected into the basket hanging from her arm and headed off toward the cooking fire behind the longhouse.
Without glancing back, she knew his gaze followed her. The way his face had lit up at her mention of duties had sent a shiver down her back. Her palms were damp when she finally handed the basket to his mother.
“Thank ye, Brighit.” No doubt Tisa’s smile was intended to reassure. “Are ye excited for the morrow?”
Tisa dropped the plants into a waiting bowl of water, swishing the dirt from the leaves.
“Certainly.” The quick glance Tisa gave her had Brighit averting her gaze, the heat spreading up her neck to cover her face. “I may be a little… apprehensive.”
“’Tis expected.” Tisa wiped her hands on a cloth, a very lady-like action, before directing Brighit away from the fire and the rest of the women. “Every bride feels this way.”
“Even ye?” Brighit found it hard to believe this self-assured woman had ever felt nervous about anything.
The older woman smiled. A gentle smile that matched the touch of her hand on Brighit’s cheek. “Sweetling, ye are no different than me in many ways.”
Brighit forced herself to not roll her eyes at the absurd comment. “I know Darragh is a good man…”
“But he is a man.” Tisa finished the sentence that Brighit had not dared complete. “And men have needs. D'ye fear the marriage bed? As I did?”
Brighit shrugged, not feeling overly comfortable discussing intimate matters with her husband’s mother. Her future mother-in-law was so controlled and soft-spoken. Could she really have feared Tadhg? She glanced toward the benches where the older men had settled to drink and discuss area politics. Their stern voices carried, although the words were lost.
Tadhg was forbidding, to be certain, and seemed relentless in his demands of those around him. Mayhap Tisa had feared him. Feared his assessment of her. Feared her own ability to fulfill her wifely duties. Feared, above all, that she would be found lacking. Those were fears Brighit could well understand, but there was an important difference—for Tisa, those fears had been unfounded.
“Had ye not been married before Tadhg?”
Tisa nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. “Married, aye, but I remained untouched. My husband preferred others to me.”
Brighit gasped. How could any man find her less than perfect? And why had Tisa named her first son after such a man?
Tisa must have sensed her thoughts; her eyes rounded with concern and she said, “Oh, no. Not other women. He preferred men.”
That was not unheard of, but who would marry such a man to a young girl? If they had been expected to consummate their vows, Tisa would have experienced his rejection firsthand. Brighit’s heart filled with new compassion for this woman.
“I am sorry for ye.”
Tisa smiled. That quiet smile she usually saved for her husband when he was reproaching someone, and she was sitting demurely by his side as wife to the powerfulri túaithe.“Darragh did his best by me. I found no complaints after we came to an understanding. He offered me his protection. And his care. He was a kind man.”
Brighit’s confusion must have been apparent because Tisa’s next words came out in a rush.
“It was a bad time for my father and our clan. He’d had no choice—and no idea about Darragh’s preference. No one did, but many suspected.” Again that far-off look. “But I had always held a fondness for Tadhg.”
And there it was. The difference between Tisa marrying Tadhg and Brighit marrying Darragh. Brighit felt no such attraction toward Darragh. Well, mayhap the Darragh who’d kissed her… he was different and could set her heart to fluttering, but she’d seenthatDarragh rarely enough. She set the thought aside. “Then the marriage bed was not so dreaded after all?”
“Mayhap not, but I can tell ye, my son will be considerate of ye.”
“And ye’re his mother.” Brighit knew there was no sense in saying what they both knew. Tisa only saw the best in her son.
“And a mother knows her son. He is a gentle soul.”
Darragh had joined the group of men, standing beside his father, his arms crossed over his chest. He was not smiling, and from this distance, he did not look gentle. He looked like a man desperate for his father’s approval—and if that meant keeping his bride under his thumb, so be it.
“Well, I am sure it will be fine.” Brighit stood as did Tisa. “I will survive as most wives do.”
“I am sorry I didn’t alleviate yer fears.”
