Chapter 16

S ean awakened to banging on the door. It took him a moment to remember where he was but he knew immediately the small body tucked beside him was his wife—Thomasina. He kissed the top of her head and moved away trying not to disturb her.

It was still dark. He donned his trews and went to the door. Lachlann stood there, cupping his hands to his mouth as he tried to keep warm. "We found a boatman but we need to go now. No sign of the Normans."

Sean wanted to make love to Thomasina again in the night but she hadn't awakened. "Yea. Give us a minute."

Shutting the door, Sean returned to light the candle and bring it closer to the bed. The bloodstain beneath them was proof enough that she was indeed his. The smile on her face as she slept told him she was happy about it.

"Thomasina." He kneeled beside the pallet, a hand on her shoulder. "Mo mhíle stór, we need to go now."

She frowned, shielding her eyes from the light. "'Tis the middle of the night. We will not be able to see anything."

"'Tis almost sunrise. Lachlann says we need to go now."

She sat up still half-asleep. Her nakedness called to him and he cupped a breast as he moved in nearer. "If I had my way, I would wake ye slowly and pleasure ye until ye cried out my name."

She smiled, her eyes partly closed in her weariness. "Did I not call yer name? I knew it was ye and none other that made such sweet love to me, mo mhíle stór." She pursed her lips toward him for a kiss.

He kissed her, rubbing his lips against hers. "Good day, my sweet Thomasina."

"Yea. 'Tis that."

Thomasina stood up and stretched her delectable body. Sean had a hard time keeping himself focused on dressing with her body all but calling out to him.

"Are ye sore?"

She stilled and closed her eyes as if assessing her body from the inside. "Maybe a little here." She opened her eyes and offered a most fetching expression while pressing her hand between her legs. "'Twas a necessary pain that resulted in much more pleasure."

"Are not ye the worldly one now?" Sean pulled at the sheet, removing it from the pallet, and wrapped it up to take with them in case there was need of any proof. "Come now."

She accepted his outstretched hand. Even as they opened the door, a dull light was making its way toward the sunrise. Lachlann handed Sean the lead to Niall's riderless horse and smiled at Thomasina. "Ye made it through the night I see."

"Yea. Even with my big, strapping husband, I survived just fine."

Sean mounted and reached down to pull her up in front of him. "And I survived just fine as well."

Lachlann's face blanked before he broke into a laugh. "I had no concern for ye, man."

He jumped onto his horse. By the time they made the shore, the sun was clearing the horizon but a heavy mist hung over the water making it difficult to see. Niall came out of the trees. "The boatman will be here anon."

Sean dismounted and took a quick scan of their surroundings. He reached up to take Thomasina by her small waist and help her down. He stopped, holding her just short of touching her feet to the ground. "A kiss for my efforts?"

She smiled and kissed him. He held her against him, wrapping both arms around her when she would have pulled away. His lips demanding more, she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

"Thank ye for yer efforts," she teased him.

Sean smiled back but didn't put her down. "Can ye say goodbye to yer brother? And his friend?"

She glanced behind him where her brother waited beside Lachlann. "Yea. Do ye think it be forever?"

"Nae. We will return if 'tis what ye want."

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before looking at him with a smile. "Thank ye for that as well."

Niall started toward the shore, the sound of the surf the only noise. "I think this is the boat now."

Sean slipped his head through the rope on his shield, securing it to his back and took the sack. They followed behind.

Like a ghost in the mist, the longboat appeared with a single man. "Hail."

Sean's fist clenched. Something in the voice was familiar. He thrust Thomasina behind him and withdrew his sword. "Stay here."

Niall was almost to the shore, Lachlann beside him. Sean surged forward just as the heavily-cloaked boatman waded into the water, bent toward his boat.

"'Tis a trap," Sean said as he sped past them.

The words were shouted as the man turned toward him, cloak thrown over his shoulder revealing his mail and his sword in hand.

Sean raised his own sword, intercepting any danger to Niall or Lachlann. Engaging the boatman, blade to blade they slid down to the grip, face to face, and shoved against each other. The soldier's cloak quickly soaking, dragging him down, making his movements difficult.

In the distance, the sound of horses and shouting men could be heard as other soldiers advanced onto the beach. Sean urged the man deeper into the waves until he stumbled back, his sword tangled in the material and swamped by the surf. With the hilt of his sword, Sean gave a quick downward thrust to the man's face. The blood mixed with the water as he went under.

With high steps through the crashing waves, Sean rushed to help Niall and Lachlann. Their swords at the ready, the two faced the oncoming soldiers. Sean came up alongside them.

"This is not looking good." The intensity of emotion came through in Lachlann's voice.

No one responded. A high-pitched sound carried to Sean over the sound of the waves. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of Thomasina running toward the beach, her hands flailing in the air. It sounded like she yelled, "Stop!"

Sean ran toward the closest mounted soldier, his arms wide, as he shouted his war cry. As expected, the horse reared up. The next two soldiers were prepared, one even jumping down to meet him on foot with a pole axe.

"Stop!" Thomasina's shrill cry carried to the soldiers. The one on foot turned toward her. Sean surged forward, shoving his pole arm into the air. His sword found its mark.

"'Tis Aldred. The little man is with him." Lachlann's voice carried to Sean but it didn't make any difference to him. He needed to get Thomasina safely away. The boat drifted closer to the shore with the incoming tide but it would be drifting out just as easily. He needed to get to it.

"My lord," a voice called out behind Sean as he yanked the soldier off his horse, landing him flat on his back.

"We have word from Lord John, Earl of Kent. He sends a treatise of protection over the Eire man."

Sean smashed his sword pommel into the Norman's face, the sound of breaking bone gratifying.

"Halt!" It was the lord who had ordered Sean's beheading.

Sean ran toward the boat just as the water threatened to suck it back into deeper water.

"Halt, Normans!"

Sean grabbed at the rope from the boat dragging it closer to shore and looked behind to find Thomasina far too close to the soldiers. Niall and Lachlann stood a short distance from him. The Lord sat atop his horse where a small man was running toward him. He held something over his head. He seemed familiar to Sean.

"Sean," Niall called to him, his hands cupped to help his voice carry.

Sean reached Thomasina in three steps, throwing her over his shoulders.

"Niall is calling to ye." Thomasina's voice implored him to stop.

"I see to yer protection. I will not let them harm ye." He placed Thomasina inside the boat. "Stay down."

She lay on her belly, one hand holding the side of the small boat. "I think the attack has stopped."

Sean glanced again toward the little man dressed in mail. Yes. A man at the Priory. The Earl's man.

Taking a run into the waves, Sean pushed the boat away from the shore. He jumped in at the last second and grabbed an oar.

When Thomasina moved to sit up, he urged her down. "I dunna want ye to become a target."

She peered over the edge. "But they no longer fight."

Niall's call carried to him. "Sean! Lord John has sent his protection."

Lord John was Peter's close friend. And then there was the talkative soldier, Mort. Sean realized the little man was, indeed, Mort himself. Sean scanned the soldiers. All had their weapons lowered. The ones on horseback now waited behind their liege lord.

"Ye can sit up." Sean offered his hand.

"Do ye think what he said is true? Can there be word from York? Was someone sent?"

Aldred stood beside his two friends looking quite a bit travel worn. "Methinks yer brother may have seen to my protection this time."

When the boat drifted in on the next wave, Sean jumped out and took hold of the rope. He pulled it toward Niall, beaching it on the sand. He picked Thomasina up and out of the boat. Her feet never touching the water. Holding her hand and still positioning her behind him, he approached the three friends. The dark lord urged his horse a bit closer.

"Is there something ye neglected to tell me of?" Sean directed his question to Niall.

Niall laughed. "Yea. Aldred went off to York as soon as we heard no one had been sent."

"What say you?" The Lord's angry voice rang out, edged with defensiveness. "I dispatched a man to York." He glanced at the soldiers on either aside. They avoided his eyes. "Did I not?"

"We have not heard back," the soldier to his right answered. "Regardless, he still murdered the only witness to the killings."

The man called Mort stepped past him to take Sean's hand. "Lord John sends his greetings along with his protection and that of the King, Sean of Drogheda." He turned back to the soldier who had spoken. "If the man you speak of was Ivan, I can assure you, all that he told you was a lie. If he has been killed by this man's hand," Mort indicated Sean, "it was a job well-done and long overdue."

Mort reached up to place his arm on Sean's shoulder. "Peter sends his regards as well and wishes you safe travels home."

Peter, Brighit's new husband. "How fares Brighit?"

Mort nodded, a slow nod as if he had knowledge beyond what was said. "She and Peter are happy. They wish the same for you, Sean."

Brighit's last words to Sean filled his mind.

There is a wonderful woman out there intended for you alone. Open your heart so that love may find you.

"My thanks, Mort." He brought Thomasina to the forefront. "I would make known to ye, Thomasina. My wife."

Mort tipped his head to Sean then bowed with great comportment. "A pleasure, dear lady."

Sean's chest could expand no further. His joy complete. "And please tell Brighit she was correct."

Mort paused then nodded. "I will pass on your message."

The lord dropped from his horse to approach Sean. "I fear in my grief I have listened to the wrong man. I will pray for more wisdom in my dealings forthwith. Forgive me."

Sean tipped his head. "Ivan meant to cause problems here. Killing as many Normans as he could was only the beginning of his plans."

Niall wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulder. "So do ye still have to leave now?"

Sean understood his sadness. Where he had sadness, Sean had happiness. He offered a gracious smile. "Niall, I am long overdue back to my clan. The tide is right. Now is the time we must leave."

"But ye've no one to man the boat." Lachlann pointed toward the empty vessel.

Sean tipped his head. "Ah, my friend. I never said I was unable to man the boat myself. Thomasina will be in good hands."

Niall gathered her close. "Be well, sister."

She nodded and kissed his cheek before withdrawing.

The moisture on her cheeks could not be attributed to the surf alone. Sean moved in close. "Will it be well with ye, mo mhíle stór?"

Her eyes rounded. She swallowed hard as if trying to force down all the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. "I ken ye are my tomorrow. I feel a little sad saying goodbye to yesterday 'tis all."

He tipped her chin up. "I will make ye forget yer yesterdays." He kissed her. "And these men will indeed be part of yer tomorrow. That I promise ye."

Her expression lightened with his words and he helped her into the boat. Settling behind her, Sean raised his knees to protect her on both sides. He took the oar. "I just wish I had been able to get Tadhg's damn knife. I will never hear the end of it."

"Oh, wait! Niall!" She jumped up without warning, nearly overturning the small vessel. She held her hand out, palm up. "Niall! The knife!"

Niall frowned as if thinking then nodded, a huge smile across his face. He dug into the bag at his waist. "Here ye go, brother! Ye can thank me when next we meet."

He tossed it to Sean who caught it.

"Yer friend's knife! Yea?" Thomasina asked.

Sean opened the blades of the intricately carved knife. "Yea. The very same."

"Niall found it on the floor at the blacksmith's."

"Glad I am that he did."

She settled down in front of him. The ocean's current pulled them further out to sea.

"At least I will not have to hear about that from Tadhg." He bent his head in a scolding frown when her eyes came back to him. "Ye—on the other hand. I will never hear the end of marrying ye!" He pulled her in close. "The knife I could gladly have gone on without and withstood his anger. But ye? I could never withstand a life without ye." He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "And I would have it no other way."

"Nor would I."

The End