Yet she didn’t want his patience! She wanted him to tell her that he had changed his mind and there needn’t be any unwanted wedding. A tear tumbled down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand while Ronan sighed heavily and began to steer her again toward the door, clearly as resolute as before.
“Even though you may have narrowed your choice, you must give all of them the chance to prove themselves worthy. Aye, that includes poor Fergal, though mayhap he’ll spend a good part of the morning in the outhouse. I know what you did, Deirdre, but your defiance will not change the outcome of this day. You may think me harsh?—”
“I do!” she blurted, which cut her deeply to say it to a father she had always worshipped, Ronan’s jaw grown even more tight. “I cannot believe this is happening to me after you gave me such freedom since I was a child.”
“A mistake I now regret, though the past is done. I gave you my reasons and I will not repeat them. Now smile and give these men their first test to try and impress you,” Ronan said firmly, drawing her with him outside into bright morning sunshine that made her shield her burning eyes with her hand.
Her fingers shook as somehow she obliged him to paste a smile once again upon her face, though her chin trembled, too…until she took one look at Liam’s own broad smile as if he couldn’t wait to hear what paces she might put them through.
At that moment she hated him—aye, hated them all!—and was all the more determined to make her suitors regret ever agreeing to come to Glenmalure to try and win her hand.
“I’ve decided your first test will be a footrace while the air is still cool. Three times around the perimeter of the stronghold…and I will join you. Nothing would impress me more than to see any one of you attempt to outrun me. I always win, aye, Conor?”
Her brother appeared almost sheepish as he nodded, while once again Liam’s laughter rang out around them.
“A footrace, it is!” came his enthusiastic assent, infuriating Deirdre that he looked so…so confident.
Meanwhile Cian and Roy appeared hesitant, Cian gripping his stomach and belching even as he broke wind so loudly that masculine laughter erupted all around—causing Ronan to chuckle, too.
Aye, all of these men laughing atherexpense, Deirdre thought mutinously as she shrugged off her jerkin and then bent down to remove her leather shoes so she could run barefoot.
When she straightened, she saw that Liam had discarded his sword belt and chain mail and had kicked off his shoes, too, and proceeded to pull his tunic over his head so that he wore only trousers—Deirdre gulping at the muscled expanse of his chest and abdomen.
Oddly, she hardly noticed her other suitors were stripping down as well for the sunlight that seemed to heighten the bronzed hue of Liam’s skin…until his amused gaze made her swear softly under her breath and look away.
“Well, then, if you’re all ready to race, you might as well start right here,” came Ronan’s pronouncement to snap Deirdre back to the challenge that lay ahead. “When I raise my arm, you may begin.”
He had barely done so when Deirdre took off running, her bare feet kicking up the dirt as she sped through the yard toward the gates, all three still yawning open.
She loved to race, exhilaration fueling her as she laughed, too, a quick glance over her shoulder telling her that her suitors were well behind her, though Liam was gaining ground.
That realization made her careen around the corner of the last gate and run as fast as she could along the cleared ground that surrounded the stronghold.
Her arms and legs pumping while the sound of her footfalls upon the packed dirt and her steady breathing were the only things she focused upon—though she had an unnerving sense that Liam was still not far behind her.
Yet now she didn’t dare waste a moment to look, which would only disrupt her concentration and slow her down…though her heartbeat seemed now to pound in her ears.
Damn him! She could hear, too, the cheers of her clansmen from within the stronghold carrying over the three circular palisades of stout red oak that had proved impregnable to any attackers.
Cheering her name over and over for they knew her fleetness of foot and that no one had ever bested her. Before she knew it, she had reached the outer gates again to start her second lap around the stronghold—only to gasp when she had to veer sharply around Cian O’Brien, who had collapsed on all fours to vomit into the dirt.
He hadn’t even made it very far on his first lap before his breakfast had rebelled against him, Deirdre feeling only the slightest bit of regret for her brawny suitor as his gagging noises receded behind her.
She wasn’t surprised when halfway around the stronghold, she spied Roy O’More leaning against the palisade, his bony chest and shoulders heaving. Clearly, he could run no farther,though he looked up at her as she ran past him and gave her a half-hearted wave.
She had to stifle a smile of triumph for that wouldn’t have been kind at all, but a shouted-out challenge from not far behind her made her run all the faster.
Liam! Calling out to Darragh and Brendan as he dared them to catch up with him, so they couldn’t be too far behind.
All three men holding their own against her, which had never happened before in any race, Deirdre pushing her legs to pump harder, her breathing now sounding harsh to her ears.
She passed the outer gate a second time to fresh cheers erupting from the throng of O’Byrne clansmen gathered there to watch the last lap, while others had gone to retrieve Cian and Roy, who clearly needed help walking.
She had glimpsed her father standing there, too, his dark scowl telling her that he wasn’t pleased about what had befallen two more of her suitors—but Deirdre couldn’t think about that now.
She could hear heavy footfalls coming closer and closer though she ran with all her might, willing herself to concentrate upon her breathing and increase her pace even as another sound carried to her.
By God, was that chuckling she heard behind her?
