She didn’t know how he’d done it, but Trahern had kept his word. With Katla’s help, they managed to get past the guards to see Jilleen. Morren held her sister tightly in her embrace, while Trahern remained at the doorway.
They stayed together through the remaining hours, though Morren knew Jilleen wasn’t sleeping. Before dawn filtered through the hut, her sister raised up to face her.
‘I don’t regret what I did.’
‘Shh—don’t speak of it now.’ She took Jilleen’s hands. ‘Try to get a little sleep, if you can.’
Jilleen’s eyes no longer held the innocence of a thirteen-year-old girl. She drew her knees up, meeting Morren’s gaze. ‘I’m glad he’s dead.’
Morren smoothed a lock of hair away from her sister’s face. ‘He won’t trouble us again.’
Jilleen’s mouth trembled, her hands clenching together. ‘I should have run faster that night. If they hadn’t caught me, we’d both have been safe.’
Morren’s eyes burned, her heart aching for her sister. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘It was. And now I’ve done something to make amends.’
From across the room, she saw Trahern approach. His height overshadowed the young girl, and he stood over her. ‘It was not your task to kill him,’ Trahern said. ‘Though I understand your desire to avenge Morren.’
Jilleen jerked her attention to Trahern, her face colouring. He dropped to one knee, so as not to intimidate her. When he glanced at Morren, she saw that he was trying to help.
‘When my brother Ewan was a young lad, he followed my brothers and me everywhere,’ Trahern said. ‘No matter whether it was a ride across the fields or on a dangerous cattle raid, he wanted to be there.
‘We’re more than brothers,’ Trahern admitted. ‘Friends, even.’ His voice had drifted into storytelling, and Morren saw that he’d captured Jilleen’s full attention. ‘We became closer, after we all returned from our fostering. One night, almost ten years ago, we faced a Norman attack. Dozens of archers and riders in full chainmail armour attacked us. Our eldest brother, Liam, was killed that night.’
The catch in his voice was hardly noticeable, but Jilleen heard it.
‘You tried to save him,’ her sister said softly.
‘We did. And we weren’t fast enough to stop the sword that struck him down.’
Morren hadn’t known of his personal tragedy, for he’d never spoken of an eldest brother. She knew of his other four siblings, for he’d mentioned them a time or two.
‘You wanted to kill the Normans,’ Jilleen predicted.
‘Yes. And my older brother Bevan wanted them dead most of all, for he was the closest to Liam. For a long time, he kept the vengeance in his heart.
‘He let it grow, filling him up inside, for he not only lost his brother, but also his wife in that battle.’
A tear had slid down Jilleen’s cheek, and she hugged her knees tighter. Morren felt her own eyes sting, for it seemed that Trahern was no longer speaking about his brother.
‘He lived each day, consumed by grief. And we all blamed ourselves.’ Trahern lowered his voice to almost a whisper. ‘But in the end, we had to keep on living. We had to go on with our lives, for that was what Liam would have wanted.’
Morren tightened her arms around Jilleen, the story reaching down inside her. She stared at him, his grey eyes meeting her own. There was sadness in them, and resignation.
‘Get some sleep,’ she told her sister, easing Jilleen down so that her sister’s head rested on her lap.
Morren lifted her palm to Trahern, offering a brief touch of thanks. She only wondered if, after so much loss, he could let go of his pain and go on living.
Or if she could.
* * *
The Lochlannach chief, Dagmar, held the assembly at dawn the next morning. Morren hadn’t let go of her sister’s hand, and Trahern saw the shadows under her eyes.
The gathering was held in the centre of the cashel, and the body of the raider was laid out with his face revealed. One by one, the men and women passed by the man to identify him.
And every last Ó Reilly agreed that the raider had been one of those responsible for the attack. Before the raider’s body was covered once more, Trahern saw Gunnar removing something from the man’s belt. A dagger, possibly.
‘He deserved what he got,’ Adham Ó Reilly pronounced, as one of the witnesses. ‘And were he alive, he’d have to pay restitution for the damage he did to our homes.’ His gaze fixed upon Morren. ‘And he’d pay the body prices of our family members.’
Trahern stood, waiting until the angered voices grew hushed and fell into silence. His expression softened when he regarded Morren’s sister. When he spoke, he used the power of his voice to reach out to the people.
‘Jilleen Ó Reilly should not have murdered this man, true enough,’ he began. ‘But there is not a man here who didn’t consider taking the raider’s life’
‘I believe there should be a penalty,’ the chief interceded. Morren gripped Jilleen harder, and Trahern was prepared to argue, before Dagmar added, ‘But a minor one.’
Rising to his feet, the chief gestured towards the ruined homes. ‘Over the next month, Jilleen must work with her kinsmen and women, helping to repair the damage. Her restitution will atone for the raider’s death.’
‘She shouldn’t have to lift a single stone,’ Trahern argued.
‘Are you questioning my judgement?’ The chief stood and walked to face him. Eye to eye, the Viking leader saw the argument as a personal threat.
Trahern didn’t care. ‘A girl of thirteen years is not the same as a murderer. We may not know why the raider joined in the attack, but his crimes were clear.’
‘It’s all right, Trahern,’ Jilleen interrupted. Stepping between the two men, she looked at one, then the other. ‘I accept my punishment. I’ll help them rebuild.’
The girl slipped her hand in his, to reassure him. The chief stared hard at Trahern. At last, he gave Jilleen a nod of dismissal, turning his attention back to the matter of sending supplies and more men and women to the cashel.
Jilleen broke free and went back to Morren. A few minutes later, Katla approached. For a long moment, she studied the two women, saying nothing. Morren drew her sister closer, not meeting the woman’s gaze.
As if a silent question had been answered, Katla turned back to Trahern. ‘I will look after them, when you leave. You have my word.’
The woman’s face was grim, filled with understanding. But, to her credit, she said nothing more.
It was an opening, a way of leaving them both behind with the reassurance that Katla would watch over them. As a married woman, Katla could open her home, and he felt certain that Morren and Jilleen would be all right.
Still, he felt hesitant. There was a sense that he was abandoning Morren, just as he’d left Ciara behind. And try as he might, he couldn’t seem to push away the feeling of un easiness.
The crowd began to disperse, the chief returning with several men back to their own longphort. Trahern accompanied Morren and Jilleen, and for the next few hours, they joined the others, working on one of the new huts.
But even the distraction of building couldn’t stop him from catching glimpses of Morren. Her wheat-coloured hair was braided, and she kept her brat wrapped closely around her shoulders. Last night, it had rained, and the cashel was sodden with puddles and mud.
Morren kept guard over her sister, but he suspected she yearned to be back in the fields, from the way she kept casting glances outside the cashel.
‘Do you want to go and cut the rest of the barley?’ he asked her. It would take a few hours, but they could finish. ‘We could get a few of the others to join us.’
‘I don’t want to leave Jilleen,’ she admitted, glancing at her sister.
‘I’m not a child, Morren,’ Jilleen insisted. ‘You don’t need to watch over me.’ Morren’s face showed her doubts, but her sister waved her on. ‘I’ll be fine. And I’d rather work here with the others than out in a muddy field. Go with him, if that’s what you want.’
Jilleen’s words did little to convince her, and it was only Katla’s faint nod of reassurance that made Morren change her mind. ‘All right. But only for a short while.’
She lifted her brat over her head to shield against the wind. Trahern picked up the scythes when he accompanied her and tried to encourage a few of the clan members to help. Not Adham, however. He couldn’t bring himself to invite the man, not after the coward had abandoned Morren.
Despite asking several of the folk, none of the clan members wanted to venture forth into the fields, since there was so much labour to be done within the cashel. Were it not for Morren’s fear that the grain would rot, he’d have been tempted to let it be.
But this was important to her. There was a connection between Morren and the land, one he couldn’t deny. Upon her face, he’d seen the dismay at the burned grain, and the faint hope when they’d saved some of the barley yesterday.
As they walked together outside the cashel, he wondered if it was a mistake to be alone with her once more. The kiss last night had startled him. He’d dreamed of her that night, of her soft mouth and the taste of innocence. Despite the horror she’d known, Morren was a beautiful, desirable woman. And he wanted her far more than he should.
When they passed beyond the boundaries of the cashel, the ground was less treacherous, with grass to help them keep their footing. They chose a place near the remainder of the grain, cutting on opposite sides.
‘Thank you,’ Morren said suddenly. ‘For letting me see Jilleen.’
‘She’s going to be all right,’ he reassured her. ‘The others are looking after her. Even Katla treats her like a daughter.’
Morren sent him a soft smile. ‘I know Katla lost her own daughter. I think taking care of Jilleen has given her a new purpose. It’s as if my sister has a foster mother and a home once again.’
‘And you? Do you think you’ve found a home once more?’
Her smile faded away. ‘No.’ She reached for a handful of barley, slicing it low. ‘Not really. They think I’m the same woman I used to be. But I’m not.’ She set aside the grain and reached for another handful.
‘You’re stronger than that woman,’ he said, ‘because you survived.’
Her blue eyes met his. ‘Sometimes, I think a part of me did die that night.’
He leaned upon his scythe, studying her. She was struggling, not really seeing herself as he did. He searched for the right way to explain himself, wanting to help her overcome the past.
‘Did I frighten you last night, when I kissed you?’
She stilled, and the grain fell from her hands. ‘A little.’
‘Did you believe I would force myself on you?’
She shook her head silently.
‘Because you know I wouldn’t. And when a man comes along who cares for you—’ he reached out and rested his hand upon her shoulder ‘—you’ll know that there’s nothing to fear. When love is there, it’s about offering yourself. Not taking.’
Her palm covered his hand, the sudden warmth permeating his own skin. His desire to hold her, to feel the comfort of a woman’s touch, was making itself known again.
He drew back slowly, so as not to give her the wrong impression. Suddenly, his feet slipped out from beneath him, and he landed hard on his backside.
‘Damned mud.’ He regained his footing, not missing Morren’s stifled laugh. ‘Watch yourself, or you’ll end up—’
Morren skidded forward, laughing as she landed face down in the grain. She rolled over, her arms and cheek covered with the slimy mud.
‘Oh, this is terrible. We look like we’ve been bathing in it.’ She wiped her face on the sleeve of her gown, wincing at the mess.
‘It’s slick.’ He reached down, bracing himself to help her up. ‘Be careful.’
‘My hands are covered with muck.’ But there was a light in her eyes, a humour at what had happened.
‘I’m not certain today is the best day for cutting grain,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve got most of it, anyway.’ He realised that this part of the field was sparser, unprotected from the mud.
‘Weakling.’ Morren took a careful step, reaching for her scythe. ‘You’re afraid of getting your clothes dirty, aren’t you?’
‘They’re already soiled. And I’ve nothing else to wear.’
‘I think Katla has an extra gown,’ she teased.
‘I’d rather go naked than wear women’s clothing, a chara.’ He saw the sparkle in her eyes, and her spirits seemed to lift.
She continued to cut the remaining grain, taking careful steps. ‘I’ll finish this, and you can go back and labour with something more strenuous, if you must. I’m certain there are stones that need to be broken or heavy timbers lifted.’
A split second later, her feet slipped out from under her again, and she fell backwards. The scythe came spinning out of her hand, heading straight towards him.
‘Jesu,’ he breathed, dodging the blade. ‘Were you trying to kill me, then?’
She got onto her hands and knees, horrified by what had just happened. ‘I’m sorry, Trahern. I never expected—’
‘I know I need to shave my head again, but not in that way.’
She sat back, resting her dirty hands on her knees. ‘I apologise again. It really was an accident.’
Trahern took a careful step, not bothering to pick up her fallen scythe. ‘You’re not going to be wielding blades again today. I value my life.’
Morren struggled to get up, but her heels slid out, and she toppled onto her back. ‘This is hopeless,’ she complained. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get back to the cashel without crawling on my hands and knees.’
Trahern’s hands were muddy as well, but he adjusted his footing onto a patch of grass, to steady himself. ‘I’ll help you.’
He lifted her into his arms, carrying her with careful steps across the field. ‘I don’t trust you not to fall again. Once we’re on the grass, I’ll put you down.’
Her arms held tight to his neck, the cool mud warming upon his skin. ‘I should have known the ground would be too muddy.’
‘You like working in the dirt, don’t you?’
‘Dry dirt, yes. Mud, no.’
He managed to bring them both to safety, letting her down. Morren stared at him in horrified wonder. ‘We both need to bathe or they’ll never let us in the cashel.’
His gaze moved past her face, and heat flared up at the sight of her body. The mud had plastered her thin gown to her skin, outlining the generous curve of her breasts. One sleeve hung down, baring a shoulder. Her hair hung in muddy ropes across her skin, tendrils that flirted with her tight nipples.
He remembered kissing her, and how it had felt when the warmth of her tongue slid within his mouth. She was as desirable now as she had been yesterday. More so, with the way she’d smiled at him.
Trahern spoke not a word, but headed straight across the meadow towards the river. It wouldn’t have mattered if the water held a film of ice. Right now he wasn’t thinking of cleanliness, only drowning out the maddening lust that was rippling through him. He dove off the edge of the bank, breaking through the frigid water, and swimming long strokes to clean off the mud.
* * *
Morren watched him swim, not knowing what had caused him to go so swiftly. One moment, he’d been standing before her, and the next, he’d all but pushed her away.
She eyed the water, knowing how cold it had to be. But the mud was beginning to dry upon her skin, and if she didn’t clean it off, it would cause her skin to itch.
Did she dare join him in the water? It looked terrifyingly cold.
‘How bad is it?’ she asked him, when he surfaced. Droplets of water slid over his skin, down to his mouth.
‘Too cold for you.’ He strode out of the water, his clothes completely sodden. Though the remark was probably true, she didn’t like the way he assumed she was unable to handle the temperature.
It couldn’t be that bad, could it?
Before she could lose her courage, she dropped her brat and ran off the edge of the bank, plunging into the water feet first. The shock of the cold river was like a blade through her spine, numbing her. She surfaced again, her teeth chattering.
‘What in the name of Danu did you do that for?’ Trahern demanded. He strode back into the water, reaching out to hold her steady.
‘I n-n-needed to wash my hair.’
‘The water is so cold, there was likely ice on it this morning,’ he argued. ‘You could have drowned.’
‘I’m t-t-tall enough to stand in it.’ She reached back, trying to wash the mud from her hair. Trahern held her neck, quickly rubbing her scalp until the long strands were clean.
‘We could have heated a tub of water. You didn’t have to do this,’ he chided, lifting her out of the water. When the cold outside air hit her skin, she started trembling even more. Trahern wrapped her in the long brat, but the woollen wrap did little to warm her icy skin. Only Trahern’s body heat made it bearable.
‘I didn’t think it was that bad,’ she admitted. ‘You took a swim and didn’t seem affected.’
‘I’m larger than you, and the water isn’t as cold against my skin.’
Trahern carried her back to the cashel, his long strides crossing the grass without any effort. Morren clung to him tightly, as if trying to absorb the heat of his skin into her own.
Trahern was nearly at the gates when suddenly he stopped. He let her down, and her knees nearly buckled.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have gone into the water.’ She held tightly to her shoulders, shivering. But it wasn’t just the cold that made her shiver.
It was the dark look in his eyes, the look of a man who wanted her. He was giving her the chance to walk away, and she knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn’t lay a hand upon her.
But his restraint was taking a toll. His gaze was smouldering, like a fire that began upon her skin, working its way over her breasts, down to her thighs. Her nipples tightened beneath the wet wool of her gown, and Morren flinched as something unexpected began to warm between her legs.
Desire. Something about Trahern MacEgan was stirring up buried feelings she’d never expected to feel.
Perhaps she wasn’t quite as broken as she’d thought.
Right now, she wanted to move back into the circle of his arms. She wanted him to warm her up, to feel safe. Because she knew he would never, ever hurt her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Trahern murmured, taking a step closer. His head gleamed with water, his skin pale from the cold. But as soon as he was within a hand’s distance, she found herself staring at the prickles of hair upon his face, the unyielding strength in his arms.
‘Sorry for what?’ Her voice didn’t break a whisper, and her breath seemed trapped within her lungs.
‘For this.’ Trahern captured the back of her neck and pulled her into a hard kiss.