Chapter 2

Astrid remained motionless in the small thatched building she and her mother had been given the use of for the night. An old pallet had been thrown together for them on the floor with barely enough straw to protect them from the cold, dirt floor. Her mother snored an arm's length from her, and the opening to the outside revealed the dark-haired warrior as he walked away in the moonlight. Marcán. He was being ridiculously overprotective of her.

Marcán stopped at the road, roughed up his hair, then looked skyward with open arms. Astrid frowned. She heard something that sounded like yelling, but he was too far away for her to hear the words. She moved nearer the doorway. Was he screaming up at the heavens?

When he turned back toward the hut, Astrid dropped out of sight. She dared not even breathe, expecting him to appear at the door at any moment. Marcán had seemed a bit out of control just now. A shiver of something she couldn't name traveled over her skin. Was it fear? But she would never fear Marcán, no matter how he acted.

She glanced at her mother's sleeping form, a dark bump covered with heavy wool. Her back to the door, the woman slept like the dead. Oblivious to all around her now, but she had encouraged Astrid to stay for the feast and entertainment. She'd even told her to enjoy herself, which was very odd for the woman to say. Astrid's pleasure was not something Beibhinn ever gave much thought to.

Pádraig had lied to Marcán. She had never asked to see any hot springs. She'd asked only if they could speak alone.

It would be best if Astrid just did as Marcán had told her she should. She was here, so why venture out again? She scratched at her head, surprised to find her hair such a mess, then suppressed a yawn.

Pádraig's earlier interest in the redhead with the curly hair and bright green eyes came to mind. The woman was beautiful, and she'd definitely returned his gazes, even kissing him!

That was the way of the Meic Murchadha. Pádraig's sister had straddled Marcán's lap earlier, and the man had barely flinched. Astrid had expected some kind of reaction, but instead he'd just held Daimhin's gaze, his hands at his sides. Astrid had half expected her to kiss Marcán. That would have gotten a reaction, for certain. He probably would have dumped her right off his lap. Instead, Daimhin had moved in closer, said something to him, then climbed back off. Very strange.

Astrid couldn't be certain who had initiated the kissing between Pádraig and the redhead, but he appeared to be quite good at it. Remaining just inside the open door, she'd watched them, imagining it was her Pádraig was kissing. It would have been a very enjoyable kiss indeed.

She sighed.

Astrid touched her lips. She'd never been kissed by a man before. Well, she'd had to kiss Marcán once in a game of Pull the Ribbon, but that didn't count. He'd looked so irritated… When he'd leaned in close to her, she'd almost been afraid to let their lips touch, his eyes had been so dark. He hadn't wanted to play—in fact, he'd tried to talk Diarmuid out of it. This was back before Diarmuid had become ri túaithe, when their father was still alive. Astrid assumed the whole game had only been started because her brother had wanted to kiss one of the lasses. That kiss had lasted quite a while.

It had been so irritating to sit and watch that she'd rolled her eyes and looked toward Marcán, expecting to see the same reaction. She'd found him watching her instead, that darkness still in his eyes. Diarmuid should not have insisted that he play. Marcán had not been happy about any of it. She hoped Pádraig would be much more agreeable to both the idea of kissing her and their union.

What she needed was to have a forthright conversation with him tonight—a discussion of how their match would bind the two clans together. Certainly he should agree with her. She smiled. And then she would be the one receiving his attention and his kisses.

That was the reason she'd approached him. It was why she had agreed to take a walk with him when he'd offered. Despite what he'd told Marcán, he had not asked her if the other three could come. She'd been trying to think of a way to speak with Pádraig privately and then Marcán had shown up.

When her mother flipped onto her back, Astrid gasped. Offering a prayer, Astrid slowly rose and stood beside the opening. There was no sign of Marcán, so she grabbed her mantle, ready to head back to the main house.

"Well?" Her mother's tired voice startled her. "Were ye successful?"

Astrid let out a slow breath to calm her racing heart. "I did not know ye were awake."

Beibhinn would not speak again until Astrid answered her. That was the way of it with her mother.

"Pádraig did notice me and I spoke to him."

Beibhinn did not sit up, and her chuckle had a strange, throaty sound. "I am duly impressed then. Ye have done something right, daughter."

With slow, controlled movements, the woman rolled over to lean on an elbow. Astrid's breath caught at the cruel lines on her mother's face. "Then why are ye here instead of with him?"

Explanations and excuses spun in her head. None would be acceptable to her mother. "I tried to speak to him alone, but the other men—"

"Other men?"

"Pádraig invited others to join us. Some men. I did not know them."

"Men from the other clans, no doubt." Beibhinn sat up, blowing out an exasperated breath. "We may be too late. If ye had explained yerself—or used what little bit of attraction ye have—we might have stood a chance."

"But I thought ye said—"

Her mother halted her words with a raised hand. "Do not make excuses now. Ye had the perfect chance to win over the man, and ye failed. I need to think."

Astrid stood there, afraid to even sit beside her mother when Beibhinn was this irritated. With a small voice, she voiced her defense. "I approached him. Boldly! I even asked him if we could speak."

The memory of the sudden interest in the man's eyes came to mind. It was as if he'd seen her for the first time. He'd studied her body for a long moment, and his smile of approval had given her a heady sense of power. Her mother had been correct. A man could easily be led if a woman went on the offensive, using any weapon she had.

"Then what went wrong?"

"Well, he insisted we should take a walk and grabbed my hand."

A slow smile started on her mother's face.

"He led us to a small path in the woods." A very dark path. "When he called other men to join us, I tried to explain we needed to speak alone, but he said we would talk later."

He'd actually told the men to come "for some entertainment," which had shaken her confidence a bit, though surely Marcán had been mistaken about their intentions.

"We'd settled on the ground. Pádraig placed a protective arm around me."

Astrid knew she had very little with which to attract attention from someone as handsome and powerful as Pádraig. If she wanted to get herself married, she needed to continue to take bold steps, so she had tapped down her trepidation.

"I thought that Pádraig may have needed to speak to these men, so I laughed at their jokes while they passed around a wineskin." Their jokes had nearly burned her ears with their bawdiness. "And I kept his attention. I did!"

Her mother was still smiling as she nodded, encouraging the story.

"The other men, too, so I'd hoped they would leave—"

The smile dropped. "Do not tell me ye insulted the man by saying as much!"

"Of course I said no such thing. I was very pleasant. Very interested in all they said." She'd even encouraged their interest in her. It had made her feel powerful again. Wanted. "I had just hoped the others would leave."

"Astrid!" Her mother's scolding tone continued. "Do I need to remind ye how important this is to me? To us? I cannot stay another winter with yer father's people."

Astrid sighed. She'd heard the story enough times to recite it by heart. There was only one man her mother had ever loved. Only one man she had been willing to leave her own clan to marry, and that man was not Astrid's father. The man Beibhinn had loved had been bewitched by a heathen woman.

"No, mamaídh. I am satisfied to accept him as my husband, but he does not ask!"

It made Astrid sad to think of her father being so despised by his wife. According to Beibhinn, he was the reason for all her unhappiness—and one needed only to spend a few moments with her to know she was a very unhappy woman. Astrid remembered her father differently. He had been a good man. A loving man. She had missed him desperately when his trips away from home had started to stretch out longer and longer. No doubt he had felt the loss of her little brother, Fergus, just as she still did. The only time she'd ever seen her father cry had been after Fergus's death.

After that, when her father did come home, he never stayed long—until he finally stopped coming back at all. The occasional missive had done little to fill the hole in her heart from not seeing him. The day they received news of his death had been the saddest one of her life. He'd died in battle, his best friend and tánaiste beside him.

"Have I not explained to ye how this is done?"

Astrid nodded, but she did not like the idea of being sneaky. It went against her grain. She would prefer to be forthright. Approach him with the idea. Show him the merits of the two clans joining.

The furrow between her mother's eyes deepened. "Ye had an opportunity with the man and… Oh well. Ye did yer best, I suppose."

Desperation clawed at her gut. She would not be so easily defeated! Marrying Pádraig might be the only chance she'd have for a family, and with her mother helping her, it seemed like a real possibility.

"I was doing very well, but then Marcán—"

"Marcán?" Her mother spoke the man's name as if it were poisonous. "What does he have to do with this?"

"He was afeared for my innocence and he brought me back—"

Beibhinn was on her feet in an instant, pacing the small space, a hand on her forehead and a fist at her hip. "That one! He is like a thorn in my side."

Astrid's lips parted. "What are ye saying? He is Diarmuid's dearest friend."

The woman turned her sharp gaze back to Astrid before pasting a smile on her face. "Ye have it right. Forgive me, Astrid. I fear I am overwrought. Marcán was no doubt looking out for ye."

Settling down on the flat pallet, Beibhinn patted the spot beside her and Astrid took the seat. They sat in silence.

Astrid hesitated before sharing her idea. "I'd had a thought… to mayhap return? Seek Pádraig out again?"

"Could ye do that?"

Astrid shrugged. "The feasting is ongoing. I could slip in and see if I can get him alone again."

She hated how conniving she sounded, but her mother enjoyed such things. If Astrid actually saw Pádraig and found an occasion to speak to him, her approach would be more direct.

"A fine idea." Beibhinn stood beside her, smoothing her hair down. "Remember the importance of this."

Astrid saw the opportunity for what it was. Surely she would be successful this time, at the very least in expressing her interest in the man. If he rejected her? Well, she would deal with that if it happened. Straightening her léine, she headed out the door.

The lively music called to her, but the path she traveled was very empty. The groups that had been scattered about earlier were gone. She hobbled faster, holding the wool tight around her. Marcán's warning about all the men being after her was making her more nervous. Although she would never admit it, the way he'd mentioned Pádraig being the first betwixt her legs had sent a slight thrill to her innards.

Astrid stopped in her tracks, realizing something that shocked her. When Marcán had said those words, she'd imagined his face over her—not Pádraig's. She licked her lips, more moved by the image than she would like to admit.

"Are ye still looking for trouble?"

Astrid turned, half expecting to see Marcán, but it was Pádraig who stood behind her. The redhead was nowhere in sight. Astrid beamed, pulling her shoulders back like her mother always advised her to. "I did not mean to cause trouble."

Pádraig's expression had lost some of its earlier cheerfulness.

"Sorry I am that we were interrupted," Astrid said, feeling more nervous now that she was finally alone with him.

He crossed his arms, staring at her with a stern expression. His long fur was once again draped over his shoulders. "Are ye?"

The depth of his anger at the situation brought a lump to her throat. "Pádraig, I am—"

He held his hand up. "I am certain we should not be standing here. In the dark. Alone. Talking."

She understood his sarcastic tone and nodded.

"Or has yer guard finally gone off to bed?" he asked.

His expression shifted ever so slightly, and she was filled with intense relief. He was still interested in her. She shrugged. "I do not know for certain where he is, only that he is not here."

Pádraig came closer, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Good." His voice was low. Enticing. Astrid wetted her lips. "Because I've been wanting to do this all night."

His lips were soft against hers, his tongue flicking across her tightly sealed mouth just before he pulled away.

Struggling to suppress her sigh, Astrid merely smiled, unable to look any higher than his lips. "Ye have?"

With a finger to her chin, he pulled her lips to his again, his mouth firmer this time, more insistent. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, giving her a lot of things to pay attention to. His prodding tongue slid against her closed mouth again, and when she thought to protest, it darted inside. Her breath caught in her throat. And yet… it was a surprisingly pleasant sensation. She relaxed her lips and he groaned, kissing her more deeply.

The hands around her waist glided up along the curve of her hips, over her lower back, and all the way up to her arms before moving back down again—caressing her in an ever-widening arc. Each time his hands moved up, they were closer to her breasts, and they kept dipping lower until he was grabbing her arse. Alarm bells were going off in her head. Her tongue stopped trying to spar with his, but he didn't seem to notice.

He made strange little sounds in his throat, as if he was quite enjoying the feel of her. Even though that pleased her, she knew she had to stop him, especially when he cupped her buttocks in his hands to hold her still, then rubbed his stiff prick against her.

"Umm, Pádraig?" She spoke against his insistent lips.

Pádraig broke the kiss, turned his head, dropped his arms, and stepped away with a disgusted sigh. When he looked back, his eyebrows arched over his wide eyes. "I'm listening."

Astrid wasn't sure how to respond. She had wanted him to kiss her but not to feel his… his need. "I wanted us to talk."

The man stood perfectly still, as if his thoughts were requiring all of his concentration. He placed his hands on his hips and lowered his head.

With a sideways glance, he said, "And what would ye like us to talk of?"

Despite his tone, which was pleasant enough, she sensed he was not happy with her. She turned away slightly, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I had an idea for us."

"Oh?" He reached toward her and moved in closer, his voice low. "As do I. D'ye believe it could be the same idea?"

His lips against her ear sent an unexpected shiver of repulsion through her. She backed away from him. "Please do not."

His expression screamed ye-cannot-be-saying-no-to-me. Astrid gave him her back, frowning in confusion. She had not expected this from him. In her mind, he had listened to her suggestion and considered the merit of her words.

This was a side of him she was not sure she liked.

"Forgiveness, please, Astrid." Pádraig's voice carried clear concern, and she searched his face for his sincerity without success. "There are many here this night, and I admit it tires me. I am not myself."

Something told her his words did not match his thoughts. She swallowed again, unsure of herself, but they were finally alone. It was now or never.

"My thought was of our joining." Her lips parted at the sheer lust now visible on his face and the wide grin that followed.

"As was mine!"

Holding up a hand to ward him off, she paused before continuing, no longer convinced herself that the idea was a good one. But if she went back to the hut now, Beibhinn would never let her hear the last of it…

"I was referring to ye taking me to wife, with the blessing of God and our families." Regret bloomed in her chest at his crestfallen expression, but she couldn't lose her courage now. She spoke even faster. "Surely 'twould be a good bond between our clans. My mother is from yer clan as well. She would like the idea, I am certain." Especially since it had been her idea to begin with.

Pádraig's face tightened, but she remained hopeful as she waited for him to respond. His gaze dropped to her bosom, caressing each breast with his gaze before continuing lower. Finally, he looked back up to her face. "I could imagine us wed."

Astrid had imagined this moment dozens of times, but she felt none of the relief she'd expected. Instead, there was a surprising sensation of trepidation. What terrible thing was she getting herself into? He watched her now, his eyes narrowing.

"Is that not the answer ye wished to hear, Astrid?" He took a step closer. "I agree with ye. A good bond between my clan and yers."

Whereas his closeness had set off sparks of excitement earlier in the evening, before their first kiss, she was feeling nothing but… stifled the closer he got. She swallowed and looked up at him. He stood that close.

"My mother is here now, and we could approach her with the idea… and yer father?" She hoped talk of the arrangement would keep him from touching her again.

Pádraig tipped his head. "Ah, my father is not well enough to hear of this. What of yer brother?"

"He has returned home, but we can speak of it to him on the morrow."

The man puckered his lips in a thoughtful way, his brows lowering. "I do not know if that is the best idea."

"Why ever not?"

He glanced back toward the longhouse. "One of the clans here tonight has a lovely young lass my father would like me to take to wife. I believe ye may have seen her? Curly red hair?"

"I thought ye said yer father was not well?"

"This is something he put his seal to before he took to his bed. If I am to approach him with another offer, I would need to have knowledge that only yer brother as clan leader could offer."

Pádraig's expression seemed pleasant enough, but she sensed his tension. Mayhap he was truly interested in a joining of the clans. Mayhap he was so eager for their clans to join together he did not wish to miss the opportunity.

"D'ye not agree?" he asked.

"With what?"

"That we should see yer brother now. Approach him with yer idea and see if he would consider it."

Astrid glanced back toward the longhouse, the music and laughter spilling out.

"But we would need to leave at this very moment," Pádraig pressed. "My father will make the announcement on the morrow."

She whipped back to face him.

His brows raised in expectation. "D'ye not agree?"

Well, at least he wanted to know her thoughts.

She sighed. "Mayhap ye are correct. We should see Diarmuid before yer father commits ye to another."

"Come." Pádraig's arm was a bit too tight around her shoulders. A strong sense of foreboding flooded Astrid. Damn Marcán for sharing his lurid thoughts.

Pádraig led her toward the stable, his pace fast and sure. He paused outside and offered an unexpected peck to her cheek.

"My horse is very fast. We will be there by daybreak."

Pádraig disappeared inside and Astrid stared up at the night sky full of stars. This was a good idea. If they approached Diarmuid, certainly he would see the wisdom of the joining of the two clans and agree to the match. She took the weight off her injured foot. Suddenly overcome with the chill, she rubbed her arms. Pádraig reappeared, mounted, and reached down to her.

This was the ride she had hoped for earlier. Now she would learn just how it felt to be ensconced in his bonny, strong arms. She took his hand and he settled her in front of him.

"Are ye comfortable?"

"A bit chilled."

Pádraig leaned forward, enveloping her with his heat, and wrapping her up in his fur. Very romantic. Some of her earlier excitement returned.

"That will ward off the chill." Wrapping his arm around her hips, he yanked her closer to fit between his spread legs. His tarse poked against her thigh, and her excitement made a quick exit. She stilled, not sure what she should do. When she looked up at him, he merely smiled. "Ye're a bonny lass, Astrid. I'd be lying if I did not admit taking ye would give me great pleasure."

Yanking the horse's head to the left, he jabbed the beast into a gallop, and they headed back toward Clonascra, moving away from the others.