“My daughter caused a distraction when she was shoved accidentally from behind,” continued Ronan while Deirdre still stood next to him, her gaze unexpectedly apologetic as she stared at Liam.
“Aye, forgive me—again,” she murmured, her lovely face pink from chagrin that melted Liam’s resentment, he couldn’t deny it, his fists unclenching. Yet a fresh wave just as swiftly overcame him when Deirdre glanced at Darragh with a soft smile of apology—by God, where was her smile forhim?
“You will wrestle each other again—everyone, move back!”
Ronan’s roared command at once made the circle surrounding Liam and Darragh grow wider, though onlookers still jostling each other to get the best view made Ronan loop his arm through Deirdre’s to prevent another mishap.
She glanced wide-eyed from Liam to Darragh—there it was again! A soft smile that Liam would give anything for and that made Darragh nod at her as if to acknowledge her favor, a smug smile on his sweaty face as he fixed his gaze upon Liam.
Both of them circling each other as a great cheer of excitement went up, Ronan gesturing for his O’Byrne clansmen to step back even further to give Liam and Darragh plenty of room to wrestle.
Liam didn’t waste another moment but lunged at his opponent, who deftly sidestepped him…which made Liam all the angrier.
So Deirdre seemed to have eyes only for Darragh now, aye, it was plain the bastard had somehow beguiled her when they had gone walking together—but had Liam’s kiss not moved her as well?
She may have been stunned at first by his boldness, but he hadn’t imagined her acquiescence when she had leaned against him and kissed him back…the sweet taste of her and the softness of her lips more intoxicating than he could ever have imagined.
Her breasts pressed to his chest and her heartbeat racing—aye, Liam had felt it even as she had opened her mouth for him to kiss her more deeply.
At that moment she had wanted him as much as he wanted her, Liam wholly infuriated now as he lunged again and caught Darragh around the shoulders, both of them grappling with each other.
Both of them so slick with sweat beneath the warm midday sun that Liam felt his grip slipping as Darragh suddenly caught him around the neck and tried to shove him to the ground.
Both of them grunting with exertion while Liam resisted the attack and kept his footing, his leg wrapping around Darragh’s left calf to drop him hard onto his knees.
A sharp gasp erupted from the crowd as Darragh winced in pain, which only fueled Liam to force him down sideways into the dirt—a sudden cry from Deirdre nearly distracting him again.
Nearly.
He didn’t look in her direction but clenched his teeth and threw himself with all of his might upon Darragh, who struggled to no avail as Liam pinned him by the shoulders to the ground.
Darragh’s face reddened with outrage at his defeat and his vehement curses rending the air, which only made Liam grind Darragh’s shoulders harder into the dirt.
“Iwin.”
Darragh went still to stare with pure hatred at Liam, who glared back at him with as much enmity before releasing Darragh with his own fervent curse and lunging to his feet.
“Aye, the winner again is Liam O’Toole!” Ronan announced while Liam shot a glance at Deirdre to find her not looking at him at all—but at Darragh, who had rolled over onto all fours and seemed to need a moment to catch his breath.
Darragh! Even after Liam had won the wrestling match that had been disrupted this time by her outcry of sympathy for his opponent, making Liam wheel around in disgust.
Without another glance at Deirdre, he pushed his way through the crowd and went to gather up his clothing and sword belt while Ronan bade everyone to retire to the feasting-hall for some refreshment.
A good portion of the day gone already and clearly, Liam was no closer to winning Deirdre for his bride than when he had started.
No footrace had impressed her, no arrows splicing her own in two, not his wrestling victory over Darragh—God help him, not even his kiss…or had it?
She had slapped his face, aye, her gray eyes darkened and her cheeks flushed as Deirdre had looked more stunningly beautiful to him than any woman had a right to—but Liam had seen, too, the quickened pulse at the base of her throat that could mean only one thing.
He had excited her, roused her, the breathless rise and fall of her breasts and how vehemently she had denied enjoying their kiss to Conor reinforcing to Liam that she had lied…which swelled him with renewed determination to claim her for his bride.
Not even seeing her walking with her father and a limping Darragh toward the feasting-hall diminished his resolve, Liam dressing hurriedly and then striding after them.
After all, how could flattering words compare to the scorching memory of the kiss they had shared?
Once again Deirdrefound herself seated at the head table as servants bustled to serve food and drink, but now only four of her suitors remained.
Cian and Brendan across from her in spite of their wrestling defeats, and Darragh on one side of her while Liam sat on the opposite side…both of them glaring at each other over her head, aye, she could feel it.
