Brighit met Darragh’s eyes. He studied her before he spoke.
“This will not be the kind of honeyed moon I’d wish for us. I’ve agreed to bring the news of the treaty violation to the otherrig túaithe.”
Guilt flooded her. It was her fault—all of it.
“We will travel with warriors for protection, but the trip will not be easy. The rains are nearly upon us, which can make the routes impassable. Without many places of protection along the trail, we must prepare for the worst.”
She simply nodded. A single short, quick movement.
“Still, we will have time to ourselves, as we should,” he said. “We should get ye to bed. Sunrise is not so very far off.”
Standing, he offered her his arm, his face again that stoic visage. Overcome with sadness, she placed her hand on his arm and they turned toward the stairs. The music stopped, and all eyes were on them as they ascended the steps. Applause broke out, but rather than pause to acknowledge the cheers of encouragement, Darragh seemed to quicken his step.
At the door to his chamber, he turned to her, the torch on the wall casting dark shadows on his face making it impossible to read his expression. “And here we are again.”
He leaned into her, easing her against the wall with a hand on either side of her, before capturing her lips. The gentleness of the kiss wiped away all other thoughts and when he grasped her chin to tip her head, his tongue slipped between her parted lips to spar with her own. The heat was there again. If he touched herthere,he would find how easily he roused her.
He pulled away, sliding a single finger down her face. “My lovely wife. Have ye nothing to say to yer husband?”
A jumble of words flitted through her mind. Apologies. Explanations. A plea for forgiveness. She remained silent.
He turned away from her and opened the door, giving her room to precede him. The bed had been remade and a sheer chemise lay across the foot of it, the silky material no doubt meant to entice.
Darragh cleared his throat before speaking in a brusque tone. “We best get to sleep. I plan to leave before the sun is up.”
He gave her his back, removing his tunic, calfskin shoes, and trews with little ceremony. She struggled with the ties but managed to disrobe, quickly donning the chemise. Darragh neither watched her nor offered his assistance. He seemed to be fulfilling her first impression of him just fine. When he crawled beneath the covers and turned away from her, she did the same, shivering despite the heavy fur covering. The wedding night was truly not everything a young lass might hope for.
Chapter 11
Brighit had been dreaming of her own bed, but it was her husband who roused her from sleep. She groaned, and her eyes flew open. He was leaning over her, a hand on either side of her head, and a knowing smile on his face.
“Were ye dreaming of me?” His voice barely a whisper.
When he leaned closer to kiss her, covering her with his body, Brighit couldn’t take a breath. She panicked, shoving at his chest. “No!”
He yanked back, quite a far distance, and she realized he’d moved more than a knee’s length away. His expression of confusion quickly shifted to irritation. “Get yerself ready. We need to be off.”
Darragh left the room, stopping barely short of slamming the heavy wooden door closed. The tears came fast and hard. Her dream had been so sweet—she’d been lying across his chest and kissing him back. Sweet, tender kisses that sent all kinds of delicious sensations throughout her body. She remembered wanting him to take her again. But just now, he had been too close to her. She’d felt trapped. Jumping up from the bed, she quickly bathed in the cold water from the pitcher then dressed. The last thing she wanted to do was to anger him more by making him wait for her.
When Brighit entered the inner bailey cloaked in her heavy mantle, she was surprised by the number of mounted men gathered there. Darragh approached, the reins of his horse held loosely in his hands.
“Ye’ll ride in the carriage, hidden and well-guarded by my men.”
It was then that she noticed the small wood-sided conveyance. Attached to a single horse, it could probably hold two people in close proximity. For once, she eagerly embraced the notion of traveling in a carriage. She required time to herself, time to think. Her earlier reaction to Darragh had come from some irrational fear and that did not sit well with her. She hoped he wouldn’t share what she’d done, for the men would certainly see it as cowardice as well. No doubt another woman would care very little if the men saw her as a coward, but to Brighit, there was no worst label.
“Let me help ye in.” Darragh joined his hands, fingers locked, for her to use as a step up into the carriage. It swayed like a ship on a sea and she couldn’t sit quickly enough.
His hands on either side of the door frame, he leaned in to look around the inside. “Seems a comfortable enough way to pass the day, would ye agree?”
She tightened her jaw, disgusted with the fact that she wanted to agree wholeheartedly with him. To be in here? Away from prying eyes? Alone to ponder how best to handle the situation? A godsend! “’Twill be most pleasant, I’m certain.”
He tipped his head, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit. “D'ye still wear the powder on yer face?”
Brighit’s bruises seemed even more prominent today, so she’d had no choice. “I do.”
She didn’t dare offer any more information but prayed he would let it go rather than question her. Her own father always insisted her mother was beautiful enough without adding foreign concoctions to her skin. Surely Darragh did not feel that way about her looks.
Ye are exquisite, wife.
