The insufferable whelp! Hadn’t he just told her to stay close to him? Muttering to herself, Deirdre nudged Tam with her heels and followed after Conor, who raised his right arm in greeting.
“Are you bound for Glenmalure?”
Her brother’s shout seemed to echo all around them, and startled a flock of mallards feeding alongside the shoreline, their frantic quacks filling the air.
Tam snorted, too, not startled as much as sensing the other horses that whinnied in response as a deep masculine voice answered Conor with a resounding, “Aye, at the invitation of Ronan Black O’Byrne!”
Invitation? Swept now by mounting confusion, Deirdre had the strangest feeling that she was an outsider to some impending event that she knew nothing about—which only heightened the irritation gripping her.
She stopped Tam some twenty feet from Conor’s horse as her brother dismounted to meet the strapping stranger, who had also gotten down from his steed and strode forward to clasp Conor’s forearm in greeting.
“Liam O’Toole, come from the Glen of Imaal. Conor O’Byrne, is it? I haven’t seen you for some years now.”
“Aye, I heard from my father that you were one of the six. Welcome!”
Six? Six what? Deirdre felt as if her heart wouldn’t stop racing, and it wasn’t because of the confusion overwhelming her now so much as that she’d never seen a man taller than Conor, who matched their father in height.
Liam stood a head above her brother with shoulders even broader, his reddish-blond hair glinting in the sunlight as he fixed his gaze upon her—making Deirdre gulp.
A gaze so intensely blue that she could but stare back at him, her cheeks suddenly burning and her heart racing as it had never done before.
If a man could be called beautiful, it was this one, and she felt her jaw drop as he strode toward her.
“As lovely as I’ve heard. Your sister, Conor, surely?—”
“Aye, Deirdre, though you must forgive her for staring at you so slack-mouthed, O’Toole. She knows nothing of your invitation or that of the others—or the contest this day.”
“C-contest?” Deirdre heard herself say with a voice gone hoarse as Liam drew closer, still appraising her even as her heart beat all the harder. Truly, she had never seen a man more strikingly handsome…and yet with a bold assurance about him that bordered upon what she deemed suddenly as arrogance. “What are you saying, Conor? What others?”
“Your other suitors are no concern of mine,” Liam said before her brother could answer, his gaze upon her even bolder as he reached out to stroke Tam’s forehead. “I will win you for my bride, Deirdre O’Byrne, aye, before this day is done. You’ve my word upon it.”
CHAPTER 2
Deirdre barely heard Tam’s soft nickering as raw disbelief swamped her. “Did…did you say bride?”
“Aye, woman, I can tell already you’re the one for me.”
Now Deirdre’s jaw dropped again that Liam would speak to her so audaciously while his appraising gaze swept her from head to toe before he glanced at Conor.
“I heard, too, she dresses like a man, but it pleases me. Shows spirit?—”
“Spirit?” Deirdre spat with outrage, jerking on the reins so hard that Tam reared up, his hooves pawing the air as both Liam and Conor lunged out of the way. “I’ll show you spirit, you-you arrogant bastard—and I’ll not be marrying anyone this day, you havemyword upon it!”
Deirdre veered Tam around so abruptly that he whinnied in protest and nearly bucked, until she dug her heels into his sides to spur him into a hard gallop.
Her face burning. Her throat tight. Her breathing harsh as she fought against tears that blurred her vision and enraged her even more.
Tears? Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, she never cried and she wouldn’t cry now, either!
It wasn’t true, none of it. There was no contest, no suitors. Her father would never have arranged such madness and even if he had, her mother would never have agreed to it—no, no, no, she didn’t believe it!
Nor could she believe the masculine laughter that carried across the meadow as she headed for the trail leading back to the stronghold.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Liam slapping Conor on the shoulder as if her vehement indignation had amused him—and her brother laughing with him, too!
By God, she would never forgive him. If this madness was true, how could Conor have kept such a secret from her?
I heard from my father that you were one of the six.
