Her wide eyes quickly narrowed. “And until we are wed, ye will understand if I give yer concerns the attention they deserve. None.”
That last word, spoken with such finality, felt like a call to arms. The excitement coursing through him was undeniable. So be it.
“Well then, ye will understand if our wedding night is not everything a young lass might hope for.”
Her mocking smile said it all, and he was surprised to find she could indeed still anger him. Darragh squeezed the beast into a gallop so fast, Brighit had to grab him to keep from falling off since he resisted the urge to give assistance.
The battle lines drawn, he settled himself with a deep breath. No, being married to Brighit would never be dull. And he looked forward to it with relish.
Chapter 1
One year later
Betrothed since birth.
That pronouncement had hung over Brighit for eighteen long years, and now that her wedding was on the horizon, the days she had left to see to her own pleasure were quickly coming to an end. She needed to take every opportunity she could to indulge herself. Heaven knew, there’d be none of that with Darragh as her husband. He’d require her constant attention, no doubt.
So Brighit decided to stay abed as long as she could… only to have her efforts thwarted by her mother. Thomasina, small though she was, managed to rip the covers from around her toasty warm body in one strong tug.
“Out of the bed this instant, or I’ll be calling yer father.”
Brighit sat up but refused to get off the pallet. “That’s yer threat?”
Thomasina’s usually beautiful face squeezed into a scowl. “Do not tempt me, Brighit. Ye’ll not like the outcome.”
Her mother was like a dog without teeth, but she was clearly piqued about something. Something to do about Clan MacNaughton, more likely than not. And it was Brighit’s fault that they were here. If she had married Darragh before now instead of dragging out the betrothal in the hopes she could get out of it, her mother would have peace.
“If I am out of the bed, will ye feel better?”
Her mother’s stern expression was the only reason she relented, raising her hands in a show of submission.
Brighit continued, “As ye say. I am a good daughter—”
“I said no such thing.”
“—and I would not want to add to yer burdens this day.”
“Aren’t ye the thoughtful one?” Her tone indicated her disbelief.
She did love her mother even when she was in a foul mood. Thomasina huffed, shook her head as she glanced heavenward, and left Brighit to her ablutions.
Dipping a cloth in the cold water, Brighit scrubbed at her face and neck. Calling on her father to ensure she did as she was told? Given that her father was wrapped around her finger like a strand of thread, that was no threat at all. Her betrothed, however, was a different matter.
Brighit yanked the well-worn gown over her thin shift and tucked her feet into her slippers, foregoing any stockings. No one would know.
What did it matter that the great MacNaughtonri túathwas here? He was only Tadhg and his wife was only Tisa. And their son, Darragh.Hewas a thorn in her side. Catering to him this day was something she’d rather not do and he did so love to provoke her by asking her to do things for him, things he should be able to do himself. And if she resisted his unreasonable request, both Tisa and her own mother would be giving her that expression of disappointment.
It wasn’t until shortly after they broke their fast that Brighit had the opportunity to slip away. The day was perfect for a soak—the sky a clear blue without so much as one wispy cloud to mar its beauty. The lough was a wee bit cold, but Brighit minded not at all. The weightless floating was a welcome respite from her mother’s irritation. It was freeing to do as she pleased… except she found herself thinking of Darragh.
The distance between the two clans was great enough that she’d only seen him on occasion in her youth and he’d kept to his father’s side. She’d thought he was the most handsome lad she’d ever seen. When her mother told her that he would look out for her, Brighit had immediately thought of the boys who’d run away after pushing her in the mud. She had no older brothers to defend her and the idea thathecould put them in their place for her? Well, that had made him even more appealing. His disinterest in Brighit had angered her. She’d wanted to get to know him. Not anymore. Now the distance suited her fine. The more distant he remained, the better she liked it.
As Brighit grew older, she had learned being betrothed to someone from another clan meant she had no lad’s attention at home. No one would dare look at her, or even compliment her. Not as a lass. But when she donned her brother’s trews and tunic, they’d pat her on the back and treat her as one of their own. She’d prefer that behavior to the drooling she’d witnessed from those same lads—including her own brothers—over the dainty lasses with their pretty hair and flirty smiles. Dumbstruck more often than not. Much better to earn their respect and companionship.
Many a time the lads would forget her presence and remark on the size of this lass’s bosom or the roundness of that one’s bottom. She would try not to laugh at their embarrassed expressions when they’d turn and see her listening to every word.
“Do not be looking at me,” she’d say. “I have my own and no interest in theirs.”
“And ye should not be talking so,” her brother Lachlann had said to her once. “’Tis not ladylike.”
