“You’re a fine young man and I’m pleased to have you as my son-in-law?—”
“Well, if Deirdre will still have me.”
“Oh, aye, she will have you.” A chuckle burst from Ronan, a faraway look on his face as if remembering. “My wife, Triona, and I were at odds with each other before we wed, too, she was so rebellious and defiant. I planned at first to marry her off…until I realized she was the only woman for me. These past twenty-four years with her have been the happiest of my life.”
Liam heard such emotion in Ronan’s voice that he looked away, his throat grown tight that the renowned rebel chieftain would reveal so much to him.
Yet another chuckle and Ronan again clasping his shoulder made Liam cough gruffly and continue walking with him, though all he really wanted was to return to Deirdre’s side.
To beg her forgiveness and chase any doubts from her beautiful eyes, a stunning gray that could go from soft to stormy in a blink and then back again—by God, she had so entranced him…
“Let her be for a while…like I said, when she’s ready,” came Ronan’s aside as if he had sensed Liam’s impatience, the wind buffeting them as they stepped outside where the rest of the family and the healer had gathered near the door. “All of you,Deirdre is fine and just needs some rest. Meanwhile we’ll wait out the storm in the feasting-hall where it’s warm.”
Indeed, the air had grown cool and the darkened sky rumbled with thunder, Liam hoping that someone had thought to return his clothing to him—Conor suddenly coming forward with a grin to thrust a bundle at him, Liam’s sword belt in his other hand.
“Now you can get dressed, O’Toole. I found dry trousers for you as well. So why did my father summon you back into Deirdre’s dwelling-house? Have you good news for us?”
“Nothing is certain yet, but I’m hopeful,” Liam admitted, setting out with Conor after Ronan and the others. “She’s a tempestuous one, your sister.”
“Yet worth the battle, aye?”
Liam gave a laugh and nodded, though he sobered when he glanced around the stronghold yard. “Darragh?”
“Gone to the stable clutching his bag of gold. He’ll have a wet ride home, but serves him right. Something felt odd to me about him all along—ah, God, here comes the rain!”
Conor began to run in the sudden torrential downpour accompanied by an earsplitting crack of thunder, Liam right behind him as he gave no more thought to Darragh—only Deirdre.
Always Deirdre.
His overwhelming impulse still to run back to her and pull her into his arms and declare his love for her until he saw again that heart-stopping yearning in her eyes…but he had to honor Ronan’s request.
The man was the formidable chieftain of the Glenmalure O’Byrnes after all and the father of the woman he would soon marry—aye, before the end of the day, if Liam had anything to say about it!
Deirdre stubbornly heldthe blankets over her head even though she knew she was alone, Liam’s and her father’s footfalls faded away long moments ago.
Now she just heard rain pelting heavily on the roof and thunder booming, a particularly loud crack making her start.
She usually enjoyed storms, just like her mother, but now the noise only seemed to heighten her indignation that both men had found Liam’s absurd reasoning she might be with child so amusing.
First Liam laughing and then Ronan while she had never felt so outraged—and chagrined that Liam might have considered such a thing…aye, but she had muffled a laugh, too, she had to admit it.
Her father warning Liam that she was like her mother had conjured an image in her mind of Triona defying Ronan, her emerald eyes flashing, and Deirdre hadn’t been able to stifle her amusement in time—Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, it was all so ridiculous!
Deirdre heaved an exasperated sigh, and made a small opening in the blanket so she could breathe more easily, but she wasn’t ready yet to uncover her head.
Her father had said she should rest, but how could she when she felt as much regret for slapping Liam? Aye, right after he had told her that he loved her and wanted to marry her—but she had been so stunned, so angry…
“That’s no excuse for striking the man,” Deirdre admonished herself, inwardly vowing that she would never do it again. Twice she had slapped him this day, and still Liam hadn’t told herfather that he wanted nothing more to do with her and stormed from her bedchamber.
No, instead he had stood there and explained himself to Ronan, who had been upset, indeed, when she had spouted that Liam had forced his kiss upon her.
What manner of man would marry a woman who carried another man’s child? A man who would be grieved if she had loved someone else, but wanted her anyway?
“An honorable one, you silly fool,” Deirdre said as even deeper regret swept her that she had blurted out she didn’t love him anymore—ah, God!
When would she ever learn to curb her tongue before she considered things first? Liam loved her and she loved him, aye, her heart aching at how she must have hurt him…yet still he had chuckled, so all could not be lost.
Where was he now? Might Liam still be with her father? She had to make things right and tell him that she would become his wife that very night if he wished it—just as she wished it! Such intense longing overwhelmed her that she didn’t even flinch when another crash of thunder seemed to shake the dwelling-house.
