Chapters

Please enjoy these sample chapters from Daughter of the Overking, the next book in The Warrior Kings Series.

Clonascra, Ireland 1094

"Can. Ye. Shut. Yer. Mouth?"

The small fire cast enough light that Darragh of Clan MacNaughton, hidden atop his mount in the trees behind the clearing, could make out the lads' expressions. Three silent, grim-faced figures sat around the small fire while their mounts grazed nearby. The two who were speaking stood beside a familiar black destrier. The angry voice belonged to Lachlann, the younger brother of Darragh's betrothed.

"I dinna see any stone, so why is the beast favoring her leg?" The speaker, a wiry red-headed lad—was his name Calum?—was met with a glare from Lachlann.

Darragh shook his head, unseen in the darkness. After having caught wind of Lachlann's plan to sneak away from the festivities with friends, Darragh had decided to follow them. The lads had been practicing raiding on their neighbors, riding like the wind along rutted trails in the dark. He suspected they'd been motivated by Lachlann's Uncle Niall, who was visiting from Alba. The big man told stories of his own exploits at every meal, and he'd no doubt ignited the lads' imaginations.

Enough for them to borrow the man's mount in order to ride faster.

Now that Darragh had proof, it was time to confront them. No doubt his future father-in-law, Sean, would appreciate Darragh intervening.

One of the small lads beside the fire held a thumb to his mouth, nibbling at the nail between darting glances at the injured horse and Lachlann.

"We're in it now." The gentle voice carried the sting of condemnation.

Lachlann didn't hold back his own angst when he responded, pinning the small figure with his gaze. "And what would ye have me do? I find nothing wrong with her."

Darragh winced at the lad's angry tone and dismounted without a sound, a mere stone's throw away from the fire. Lachlann was not usually one to lose his patience, unlike his sister. He must be feeling the weight of how badly their ‘adventure' had gone awry.

"Uncle Niall will have yer head!" the smaller figure said in the same stern tone.

That voice… Inching a bit closer, Darragh paused again to search their faces, each one smudged with ashes, giving their features a ghostly appearance. The nail biter dropped his hand and turned toward him, searching the darkness with narrowed eyes. Darragh held his breath, his suspicions growing. Could it be?

When the same lad stood, the long, dark hair clubbed at the back confirmed Darragh's fear. It was indeed his betrothed, Brighit, dressed in trews and tunic and sitting with the lads. He had to admit she fit in fine, all her burgeoning curves well-hidden. Her small stature merely made her look like one of the younger lads.

Stepping soundlessly over to Lachlann, she spoke in a tone too hushed for Darragh to hear, but the others turned as one toward his location. She had alerted them to his presence, and he was surprised to feel a slight rush of pride that she'd been the one to hear him.

"It took ye long enough." Darragh spoke in a strong voice, crossing the distance to the fire in a few long strides.

The mad dash for weapons ended as quickly as it had begun when they recognized his voice.

"What are ye about? Have ye gone and damaged yer uncle Niall's horse?" Darragh asked, his sardonic tone raising a few eyebrows.

Lachlann blew out a breath, stepped away from the horse, and turned his pained expression on Darragh. "She's got nothing wrong with her foot but continues to favor it."

Darragh frowned at the dark-haired man, watching from the corner of his eye as Brighit sidled her way to the back of the group and the lads drew together to shield her from his sight. Lachlann ran his hand down the horse's leg, squeezing above the ankle for it to lift its hoof.

"Clean!" The lad made the pronouncement with about as much irritation as Darragh had ever heard him display. That Lachlann recognized the extent of the trouble he could be in made Darragh feel some sympathy for him.

Stepping closer, Darragh slid his hand along the beast's side, patting its rump to calm any fears. His way with animals was no secret. "Easy now."

The answering whinny made him smile. He brushed a hand over the beast's hoof. "Are ye familiar with these iron shoes?"

Lachlann's shrug was his only answer.

"She's just recently been shod. It looks as though they may have trimmed this one a bit too much." Darragh adjusted his hold so Lachlann could also see and then released the sore leg.

Brushing the dirt from his hands before speaking again, Darragh allowed his gaze to take in each of the lads around him, noting the way they kept Brighit hidden except for her face, which was partly visible from between their shoulders. Even with ash smudged across her fair features, she was still a beauty. Now that he was close, there was no questioning her for a lad.

"I'm thinking Niall did not expect his prized animal to be taken on such a ride as ye've given her this night. Her lameness will disappear once she's rested, but I suggest ye walk her back."

"Walk her back?" Lachlann all but whined and the rest of the lads quickly joined in, voicing their own objections to dragging out the return journey.

Darragh raised his hands, ceasing the complaints. "Only a suggestion, but if ye force her to bear the weight of a rider on that sore hoof, she may take longer to recover. I'm not sure how yer uncle will feel about trusting ye again."

The grumbling started right back up as the lads tossed ideas back and forth. Darragh kept his expression neutral and his betrothed within sight. She remained silent, again nibbling at her thumb nail.

"Or—" the lads' discussion ceased and Darragh continued. "Ye could allow me to take my betrothed upon my own horse while ye lead the lame horse home."

The men separated like Moses parting the Red Sea, all eyes on Brighit's shocked expression.

"Ye've been caught," Lachlann said.

Brighit finally closed her gaping mouth to give her brother a tight-mouthed scowl. She then turned that same expression on Darragh, closing the distance until she stood directly in front of him. Her small body heaved with indignation.

"Are ye not the sneaky one? Pretending not to see me!"

"Pretending not to see ye?" Darragh forced an even tone, even though he found her pursed lips and narrowed eyes intriguing. She was unlike any other lass he'd ever known, and this close proximity to her and her family was providing quite a bit of insight into her true nature. That she would go off playing lad, however, had been no more than a sneaking suspicion until this night. "And when was this?"

"This whole time!" She huffed.

With dramatic flair, he glanced at Lachlann and his friends with wide, innocent eyes, arms open in supplication. "Did I ever say that my betrothed was certainly not here?"

The others averted their eyes, their quiet chuckles receiving the same unrepentant glare from Brighit.

"Or that the daughter of one of the most powerful ri túath would certainly not be dressing up as a lad to race across the countryside in the dark of night!" His easy tone ended in a combative declaration.

"Ye did not call me out!"

"Why should I?" Darragh stood tall and crossed his arms, setting his lips to curl before he spoke again in a much quieter tone. "These lads certainly knew ye were here. As did I. There was no pretending."

Shifting uneasily, Brighit glanced around and Darragh flinched at the sight of her proud demeanor slipping away with her obvious distress. And why wasn't someone curbing her behavior? Protecting her? These lads were doing just the opposite! They were aiding her in the deception.

Darragh glanced around. Surely they realized they were playing with fire to have the only daughter of their king ride with them, dressed as a lad. What if she were hurt? What if they were attacked?

Turning his ire on the lads, Darragh let loose his anger. "Lachlann, how could ye—"

"Dinna blame me! I told her not to come."

"And yet here she is!" Glancing over her attire, Darragh continued. "And are these not yer trews? I recognize the stain on the arse!" He pointed without thinking, and all eyes were suddenly on her derrière. The color darkening Brighit's face in the firelight compelled Darragh to step forward to block the view. Heaving a heavy sigh, he swung an arm under her knees and grasped her shoulders to pick her up in one fell swoop.

"Put me down, ye oaf!" Brighit punched at his chest—surprisingly strong punches—and came damn close to heaving herself right out of his arms.

He tossed her onto his own mount, leaping up behind her before she could escape. With a strong arm wrapped around her waist, he yanked at the reins with his free hand.

"Ye can continue to argue amongst yerselves, but I will see the daughter of the Overking safely returned myself."

The only objection was the unexpected elbow to his side. He oomphed and tightened his hold of her.

"Behave or I'll take ye over my knee myself." He spoke under his breath, loud enough only for her to hear, and urged the horse into a trot, away from the others and the wider path they would have to use.

"Ye and whose clan?"

He couldn't be certain he'd heard her correctly. Once they were far enough for privacy, Darragh reined in his horse.

"Ye think I need help subduing my own wife?" He allowed his gaze to wander the length of her. Nearly full grown now, she was indeed a beauty. Though he had no reservations about taking her to wife, Brighit showed no such inclination. His betrothed avoided him at every turn.

She snorted, her body rigid before him. "Ye do not own me yet!"

"Own ye?"

This attitude, however, was another matter altogether. She was defiant, pigheaded, strong-willed… And if the stories whispered behind his back were true, all those traits could be firmly laid at her father's feet. What could Sean have been thinking, training her right alongside her brothers? They needed to learn to defend themselves, but she would have a husband to see to her defense.

"Does yer father know of these midnight jaunts?"

Dropping her chin to give him that tolerant expression he knew so well, she said, "What do ye think?"

Brighit enjoyed treating him as if he lacked any intelligence, as if she thought him incapable of understanding anything beyond battle tactics. Her condescension had sparked his temper at first, but only until he saw it for what it was. A way to keep him at bay. A way to keep him from seeing her true nature. A way to keep him from getting to know her. She used it to protect herself from him.

So he'd changed his tactics and curbed his anger. That made it possible for Darragh to breach her defensive wall, and what he'd found within excited him. Considerably. No other lass ever dared to call him out. No one dare ruffled the feathers of the son of the great Tadhg MacNaughton. Yes, he definitely liked that flush of passion he saw in her when she verbally sparred with him.

"Sneaking behind his back after he's given ye more freedom than any other lass is not the best way to repay his generosity."

Her eyes widened. "And ye know nothing about it!"

"That is correct."

Her expression relaxed into clear gloating.

"Have pity on my ignorance and explain it to me."

"To what purpose? 'Tis no concern of yers."

"It would give me great pleasure to know of ye." He smiled at his own choice of words. "I am yer betrothed."

In the flick of an eye, she was nose to nose with him, her chin jutting out. "Not of my choosing."

Facing front again, Brighit was stiff before him. That answer caught him off-guard. Was there another she would prefer to wed?

"Our betrothal is not up for debate."

She remained unyielding.

"Brighit?"

She was quiet for so long, he assumed she wasn't going to answer.

"What?" she finally asked. Her tone had softened some and he took that as a good sign.

"Ye need to take care, Brighit. Until I am able to see to yer defense—"

"I do not need ye to defend me."

"—if ye put yerself in harm's way, ye may end up in a situation ye're not prepared for."

Her wide eyes quickly narrowed. "And until we are wed, ye will understand if I give yer concerns the attention they deserve. None."

That last word, spoken with such finality, felt like a call to arms. So be it.

"Well then, ye will understand if our wedding night is not everything a young lass might hope for."

Her scoff said it all, and he was surprised to find she could indeed still set off his anger. Darragh squeezed the beast into a gallop so fast, Brighit had to grab at him to keep from falling off. His hope to silence her the rest of the way worked fine.

The battle lines drawn, he was surprised to recognize his own increased excitement. No, being married to Brighit would never be dull. And he looked forward to it with relish.