Chapter

One year later

Betrothed since birth.

That pronouncement had hung over Brighit for as far back as she could remember, and now that her wedding was on the horizon, the days she had left to see to her own pleasure were quickly coming to an end. She had decided to take every chance she could to do what she wanted. Heaven knew, there'd be none of that with Darragh as her husband. He'll require her constant attention, no doubt.

So Brighit decided to stay abed as long as she could…only to have her efforts foiled by her mother. Thomasina, small though she was, managed to rip the covers from around her toasty warm body in one strong tug.

"Out of the bed this instant, or I'll be calling on yer father."

Brighit sat up but refused to get off the pallet. "That's the best ye can do?"

Thomasina's usually beautiful face squeezed into a scowl. "Dunna tempt me, Brighit. Ye'll not like the outcome."

Her mother was like a dog without teeth, but she was clearly piqued about something.

"Tell me true," Brighit said. "If I am out of the bed, will ye feel better?"

Her mother's stern expression was the only reason she relented, raising her hands in a show of submission. "As ye say. I am a good daughter—"

"I said no such thing."

"—and I would not want to add to yer burdens this day."

"Aren't ye the thoughtful one." Her tone indicated her disbelief.

She did love her mother even when she was annoying. Thomasina huffed, rolled her eyes, and left her alone to see to her ablutions.

Dipping a cloth in the cold water, Brighit scrubbed at her face and neck. Calling on her father to ensure she did as she was told? She scoffed. Given that her father was wrapped around her finger like a strand of thread, that was no threat at all. Her betrothed, however, was a different matter.

Brighit yanked the well-worn gown over her chemise and tucked her feet into her slippers, foregoing any stockings. No one would know.

What did it matter that the great MacNaughton ri túath was here? To her, he was just Tadhg and his wife was just Tisa. And their son, Darragh. He was a thorn in her side. Catering to Darragh this day was something she'd rather not do.

It wasn't until shortly after they broke their fast that Brighit had the opportunity to slip away. The day was perfect for bathing—the sky a clear blue without so much as one wispy cloud to mar its beauty. The lough was a wee bit cold, but Brighit minded not at all. The weightless floating was a welcome respite from her mother's irritation. It was freeing to do as she pleased and float aimlessly by herself…except she found herself thinking of Darragh.

The distance between the two clans was great enough that she'd only seen him on occasion in her youth. On those first visits, he'd kept to his father's side. His disinterest in playing with her had perplexed her at the time, but now some distance would suit her just fine. The more distant he remained, the better she liked it.

As Brighit grew older, coming into her womanhood, she had learned what it actually meant to be betrothed to someone from another clan: no one in her own clan would dare to look at her. Not as a lass. But when she doffed her brother's trews and tunic, they'd pat her on the back and treat her as one of their own. That was fine with her. She'd prefer that behavior to the drooling she'd witnessed from those same lads—including her own brothers!—over the dainty lasses with their pretty hair and flirty smiles. Dumbstruck more often than not, though she didn't understand the connection between their brain and their cocks. Much better to earn their respect and companionship.

Many a time the lads would forget her presence and remark on the size of this lass's breasts or that one's backside. She would try not to laugh at their embarrassed expressions when they'd turn and see her listening to every word.

"Dinna be looking at me," she'd say. "'Tis not me drooling over the roundness of this and the firmness of that."

"Ye should not be listening," her brother Lachlann had said to her once, his face nearly crimson enough to hide his freckles. "Ye should not even be here."

His censorship had seemed like a betrayal. They had always been so close, training side by side. Though he was younger than her, he was her eldest brother. Her closest friend.

It had started even before Darragh caught her riding with the lads, but after that incident, her brother had toughened his stance. He'd insisted that he only wanted what was best for her— which now meant being safely tucked away with the other lasses.

That had set her off something fierce.

"Lachlann, ye have no right to be telling me how I should be spending my time."

He'd leaned over her, catching her off-guard. Up until his latest growth spurt, he'd only been a bit taller. His new height nearly dwarfed her small stature. "And if that 'tis so, how would ye feel about me telling ma and da where ye been sneaking off to?"

Neither of her parents would be any happier about her escapades than Darragh had been, and well he knew it. Her father had been proud of her accomplishments, fighting and hunting right along with the other boys…right up until her menses had started while they were out hunting for the winter and far from home. Her da had been so shocked by the blood, he'd been speechless, but Aednat had been there as well and helped her. She was older, sort of a big sister.

Truth to tell, Brighit had not been well pleased herself. Neither with the inconvenience of the whole experience, nor with the way she was now kept close to home and forbidden to go off with the boys. Sean had refused to listen to reason and his whole demeanor toward her had changed. He'd demanded she start wearing the longer, traditional léines and agreed with her mother's assessment that it was time to put away childish things.

That was when she had started to sneak off.

The lads she'd ridden with had been sworn to secrecy, but Darragh's threat had not failed to make its mark. She couldn't ride with the lads anymore and he was surely to blame. He'd taken away her freedom! That's what the lads had, what they took for granted. And the lasses? They had to stay behind with their sewing and their gossip. What a waste!

The sound of men approaching jerked her back to reality. If she were caught here unguarded, it wouldn't go well. Her father had warned her to take at least three men with her if she went through the woods and here she was with not a one. How many men would he have insisted she bring had he known she'd be floating naked in the lough?

The dark green bushes to her left were thick with branches hanging close to the water, providing her with a chance to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, her gown and hose were out in the open, but there was nothing she could do for them now.

"Methinks ye have the right of it."

That was Darragh's voice! Brighit gasped and ducked below the water, shoving off the bank toward the bushes.

"Did ye hear that?" Darragh's eyes scanned the water, easily finding the ripples marring the lough's flat surface. He lowered his voice and quirked a brow. "Someone's gotten here before us."

The few men grumbled behind him. The promise of a refreshing dip had made the hard work of rebuilding the wall of the ring fort go much easier. His own disappointment was as keen.

"Mayhap they'll not mind our joining them." It was Terrence who spoke. He usually spoke without thinking and Darragh decided against pointing out the small size of the lough, the number in their group, and the fact that they were not even known here. Instead, he signaled them to wait and moved closer.

Once alongside the water, Darragh noticed the gown and slippers laid out on the boulder. His heart skipped a beat. A lass! He dropped to his haunches and turned to his men, a finger to his lips, then pointed to the garments. They remained huddled close together, intent on him. When they caught his message, their eager nods encouraged him and they exchanged goofy smiles. Mayhap they would get a look at a comely lass.

The color of the material seemed vaguely familiar, but it could not hold his attention. His eyes were on the lough. The brightness of the lass's chemise would be unmistakable against the darkness of the lough floor as she glided past them.

Darragh fingered the gown, a fine material and still warm from her body. He wetted his lips, exhaling a slow breath as anticipation coursed through his veins, but then he heard his father's voice.

This is childishness.

Darragh should not wait here in hiding to watch her. He should lead his men away, set a good example, not encourage this foolish behavior.

"Is it a lass?"

Darragh turned a scowl on Terrence, signaled for the other men to back up, and again jerked a finger to his lips. Their eager faces decided it. He needed to leave. His eyes found the gown again and his stomach sunk all the way to the soles of his feet. He knew where he'd seen it before. On his betrothed. It was Brighit's.

With narrowed eyes, he scanned the banks and the woods around them. She'd come with no protection at all to a place far enough from the village that no one would hear her if she screamed for help. She could easily be discovered by undesirables waiting to catch her unawares.

His face heated.

Undesirables worse than him and his friends.

He stood to face Terrence. "Return to the village, I will be there anon."

They did not question his command, but Terrence's skeptical glance heated his cheeks. The man clearly thought the worst of his intentions. As soon as the others were gone, Darragh strode toward the bush, the gown clasped in his hand.

When Brighit broke the surface, she dragged in air as quickly as her lungs were able. He tamped down a rush of concern for her. It was obvious she'd heard their approach and hidden from them. Her choice to do so under water deserved no sympathy.

"What do ye here, Bright?" Darragh stood tall over her, trembling in the water. "I dinna find the men yer father insisted ye take with ye. Just. This. Morning." He turned about, even opening his arms in a dramatic show. "Where have they gone off to?"

Her wet chemise and long brown hair were plastered against her skin. She looked so innocent and vulnerable and his anger peaked. "Did ye actually leave with no one to protect ye? Ye are a foolish lass."

Her eyes flashed and before he could stop her, she was climbing out of the lough.

"I dunna need to be guarded! My father is overprotective."

He sucked in a breath, backing away as if he'd been struck. Her brazen move left him speechless and fighting, without success, to not take in every inch of her unabashedly displayed body.

"Wh-what are ye about now?" he asked, irritated with himself for revealing his own uncertainty, but she showed no indication she'd heard it.

"I'm leaving! Isn't that what ye're suggesting?"

When she stilled, his eyes widened in an effort to focus on her face, the angry slash of her brows and her wide, demanding gaze, and not the erect nipples atop her glorious, full breasts or the dark patch betwixt her thighs.

"Well?"

Her tone was demanding, but he struggled to remember what she had asked. When he finally did, he tightened his jaw and narrowed his gaze right back at her.

"I'm not suggesting anything. Ye've no business being out here alone, Brighit, and well ye know it. 'Tis not the time to be sneaking off. There are dangerous men about that could easily take advantage of an unprotected lass."

Brighit shoved past him, ripping her gown from his loose grasp.

"Ye know nothing about it, Lord Darragh."

She'd taken to using the title just to irritate him ever since her family's visit to Alba to meet with their uncle. They'd been visited by Normans, friends of her parents. The deference paid them as landed warriors was a stark contrast to their own system of nobility.

She continued, "Ye've not been here."

When she faced him, he lost the struggle. The air in his lungs expelled as he finally gave in to the urge to let his gaze travel along each enticing curve. He took a step toward her, then halted when he realized why he was so intent on touching her.

Brighit's eyes flashed, in surprise or fear, he couldn't be certain which, and she yanked the gown over her head. She hugged herself, covering her breasts, admittedly the area his gaze had lingered the longest—they were exquisite breasts—but her expression remained defiant. Even as her teeth began to chatter. Darragh's desire shifted to concern and he pulled the fur-lined mantel from his shoulders to drape it around her.

"Anyone could have come upon ye, Brighit. Anyone."

"But it was ye." Irritation seethed from her. She tilted her head to pull her long, dark hair out from beneath the covering. Her scent drifted to him, but he jerked himself away.

"I'll see ye to yer father and tell him what ye've done."

"Do not." Her plea brought her a step closer, just short of actually touching him. "I beg ye, Darragh."

The quiet words hung between them. The first time his name had been uttered by her with no hint of derision or sarcasm since his clan's arrival a week earlier. He took a breath, ready to reply, but halted.

Her eyes were wide, her brows raised just the perfect amount. Never had a pleading look been more pitiful. The lass was working her wiles on him. And she'd nearly succeeded.

He'd almost reassured her that he would stay silent as long as she would promise never to do it again. And he would have been the worst of fools. She would do it again. Brighit would always do just as she pleased. Only now, instead of being forthright, she was being sneaky. Instead of verbally sparring, she was trying to charm him like the other lasses did, but she was not the other lasses.

He would do well to remember it.

"As ye wish. I will not tell Sean." Her face immediately relaxed and she dropped her gaze. He'd swear there'd been a hint of smile on her lips. "He is only yer father."

Her gaze flew back to him and she narrowed her eyes.

"A father only sees to a lass until she is wed." He smiled. "I am the one ye need to worry about."

Her brows slashed down. "Ye have no say over me."

"I control yer destiny." Her eyes clouded in that thoughtful way she had, which convinced him he'd taken the right tactic. "It is I alone who will decide yer punishments."

"Not yet." She spoke through gritted teeth, having dropped all attempts at coercion. "And not if I can help it."

"There is no help for it. Whoever else we might have preferred, it is ye and I who have been betrothed. Even now they discuss when it will be seen to."

"My father will not force me."

"He is beside himself with how best to handle ye. When he left ye with my clan so that we may become better acquainted, ye snuck off alone to follow them to the Meic Murchadha—"

"I dinna go as far as that!"

"It was foolish of ye to go anywhere unprotected." Darragh hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal. "Sean and I have spoken."

Brighit nibbled at her thumb nail, not realizing how well this simple gesture revealed her unease. He waited. She dropped her hand away from her face.

"My father loves me. He does not wish to see me married to a brut of a man."

A brut of a man? Hardly. "As I said, there will be no change to our betrothal. Ye've made it clear ye need someone to look after ye."

"I can defend myself!" Her flaring nostrils was the only breech in her well-built defenses.

"When were ye forced to do so?"

Her eyes clouded. "I've sparred with all the lads."

"When were ye forced to defend yerself against someone ye didn't know?"

"I've never had to… but I know that I can."

He shook his head. It was just as he'd suspected. "The wedding can happen in a fortnight or it can take place this very night."

Darragh was pushing it a bit. His mother had expressed a desire for the priest to be present and he was at least two day's journey away, but that fact was not well known.

Brighit's hand curled into a fist but remained at her side. "Ye want this even less than me!"

Darragh tried not to reveal his surprise at such a statement. Brighit was a beautiful, feisty woman. He was the envy of all the lads, both in his clan and her own. True, she was spirited, but he admired that. Some men would like nothing more than to break her, like they would a spirited horse. Darragh had no such wish. Being firm did not require breaking her will.

"So? What is it ye want?" Brighit's expression revealed nothing. "I promise I'll not leave—"

"Yer promise means nothing."

"Hey!"

Darragh raised a hand. She needed to learn that he would not be so easily swayed by her empty promises. "A display of how insulted ye are will not change my mind. I know ye better than that. Instead, let us have a truce of sorts."

Her lips tightly sealed, she remained silent.

"Ye will not misbehave again—and I will agree to wait to take ye to wife."

"How long will ye wait?"

Admittedly, her enthusiasm for putting off the inevitable stung a bit. "This cannot be avoided forever. Yer father is eager to see this done and has given me his blessing."

Her eyes rounded. Darragh knew she loved Sean deeply, and any hint that he was not happy with her would hurt her regardless of whether she allowed her brave front to slip.

"He knows ye will be in good hands," he added for her benefit.

"Hah!"

Without another word, he grabbed both wrists and drew her to him. "Yer defiance will be the death of ye."

She immediately began to struggle against his hold. "Let me loose, Lord Darragh. I am not yers to command yet."

"I need only say the word."

She stilled, her eyes widening. The reality of her precarious situation was finally sinking in. A small victory for him! Dare he push her? With that blush just fading from her cheeks, he decided he had little to lose.

"I wish a kiss to seal our agreement."

Her dark eyes widened. She glanced down at his lips. When she looked back up at him, he was surprised by her expression. He'd swear her interest was piqued. She wanted his kiss? Even as she railed against him, she wanted him to do it.

Darragh could think of only one reason for her contradictory behavior. She'd never been kissed before. How could he be so foolish? Of course she would be an innocent. Her father was overprotective in the extreme. He allowed her every freedom as long as he oversaw it. Mayhap she was even ignorant of the ways between a man and a woman. Such an irrational fear would be reason enough for her to push him away.

With the slightest movement, Darragh loosened his hold. Rather than retreat, she wet her lips and ventured a glance at his own. She was waiting with bated breath. With slow movements, he grazed his open palms up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. Her eyes were now downcast. That would not do. He was finally learning to read her and he needed that connection between them.

"Look at me, Brighit." She tipped her head up to his. Her lips glistened, and judging by the vein at her neck, her heart beat had quickened as well. He could take this kiss from her, the kiss she pretended not to want, or he could feed her desire for control.

With a low voice, he asked, "Would ye seal our agreement with a kiss?"

"I haven't agreed." Snippy, but there was no sign of anger behind the words.

Sliding one hand into her hair to caress her neck, Darragh felt a slow smile cross his lips when her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation.

"Oh, but ye have because ye had no choice." He traced the curve of her jaw with his thumb and her lips parted. "And if I give ye a choice? What would ye choose, I wonder? Silence for yer father at the cost of a chaste kiss from yer betrothed?"

Her chest expanded, her breath shaky, before she asked, "Chaste? Ye promise?"

The question surprised him. He'd never given her any reason to question him. Could he be wrong about what she was feeling? Perhaps, but there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted his kiss.

"As chaste as ye wish." His voice was huskier than intended, her nearness having its effect on him. For the briefest moment, he wondered if she would be willing to see to his need. They were to be wed, after all, and her interested expression couldn't be denied. "I leave that up to ye."

Darragh didn't miss the glint in her eye. She would accept his challenge.

"Then kiss me." Her words were breathy.

He met her lips halfway as she stood on tip toe to reach him. Wrapping her arms lightly around his neck, she leaned into him. He slanted his lips across hers, a gentle caress, before slipping his tongue between her parted lips. She stiffened and he recognized her inexperience, but her enthusiasm for the task quickly surpassed any qualms and she sealed their lips for his exploration.

Darragh followed her lead, fighting the urge to hold her more firmly against his needy length. She was igniting a fire in him, but it was his own fault. He'd begun this torture, best to let her see to its end rather than crying defeat.

Without warning, she released him and backed away, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Her heavy breathing spoke of her own arousal and he wanted nothing more than to see to it.

He reached for her. "Brighit, I—"

She raised a hand, shaking her head, and took another step back from him. It was a long time before she spoke again. "We will wait the fortnight."

Darragh closed his eyes, struggling to quell his throbbing desire. He'd had no expectation of how she would feel in his arms—he'd wanted only to give her a taste of what they would share together, a sense of pleasant expectation. Instead, he had become a shaking ball of need. There was no help for it, he'd promised himself he'd follow her lead.

"As ye wish."

Brighit walked past him and he took a deep, cleansing breath, adjusting the tightness in his trews before turning to her. When she mounted, he half expected her to take off at a gallop back through the woods, leaving him to chase after her and insist on offering his protection. Instead, she stood tall in her saddle and said, "Would ye be so kind as to escort me back to my father?"

Mayhap he'd accomplished more than he'd expected with this tactic. "At once."

Retrieving his mount, he led the way back toward their village, her horse close to hand. Neither spoke the entire way.