Wild Roses (36 page)

Authors: Miriam Minger

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Medieval, #General, #Historical Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance

BOOK: Wild Roses

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"Something's not right. Aye, everyone's grown too
quiet."

Maire glanced in alarm at Triona, but it was the way
her clansmen were suddenly looking at her, their expressions grave as they
parted to let them pass, that made Maire's heart pound.

At the sight of Ronan's black scowl, she felt Triona
squeeze her hand tightly even as Maire looked past her eldest brother to the
rider who approached the stronghold.

He was alone, no knights, no men-at-arms surrounding
him, his shirt of mail glinting in the sun.

Jesu, Mary, and Joseph . . . not Niall, but Duncan—

"Stand your ground, Norman, come no closer!"

Ronan's roar shattering the charged silence, Maire felt
as if her knees were giving way when Duncan ignored the command and rode even
closer, though he'd slowed his great bay stallion to a walk, his eyes intent
upon her as much as Ronan.

"By God, FitzWilliam, I know why you've come, and
you will not have her!"

"The choice is not yours, O'Byrne, but Maire's
alone," came a voice as fiercely resolute as Ronan's. "If she wishes
it, I will make her my bride and none will dare speak against it. King John has
sanctioned our marriage—I've only just returned from England to ask his
favor—"

"I care nothing for your accursed king or his
favor! Leave now, or you'll die here."

Stricken by Ronan's ominous words, Maire saw a
flushed-faced clansman then, pushing his way through the silent crowd bearing
Ronan's sword.

"Triona . . . no." Her voice no more than a
whisper, Maire glanced at her ashen-faced sister-in-law and then back to Duncan
to see that he had dismounted and stood with his sword in hand.

"I have not come to fight you, O'Byrne, I owe you
my life. I want only to speak with Maire. But if you raise your weapon against
me—"

"I do raise it."

Ronan grabbed his sword and lunged away from them to
attack even as Triona hoarsely shouted his name, but he gave no heed to her or
that Deirdre had begun to cry. Like a clash of titans, Maire watched in horror
as Duncan's heavier weapon met Ronan's blow, metal against metal ringing across
the glen, the terrible meeting she'd so feared finally come to pass.

She could see at how Duncan fended off a second blow
that he meant only to defend himself, yet Ronan clearly intended to kill him.
Within an instant, Duncan was made to fight in earnest, too. Maire felt her heart
stop when Ronan barely dodged a blow that would have severed his arm, only to
lunge at Duncan so violently that she could not still her desperate scream.

"Ronan, no more. I will tell him to go! I will
tell him to go!"

Tears blinding her, she tried to move toward them only
to find herself pulled back by the hand and Deirdre thrust suddenly into her
arms. It was Triona who ran to Ronan, her cry as angry as anguished.

"Damn you, O'Byrne, I'll not have our son born to
this world without a father! Do you hear me? And Maire's babe deserves a father
as well—damn the both of you to break the hearts of the women who love
you!"

Triona reached Ronan even as he turned around, his
sword fallen to his side while Duncan, his sword lowered too, stared at Maire,
his chest heaving from exertion, sweat dripping down his face. She hugged
Deirdre close, the frightened child still wailing, and went to him. Duncan's
gaze was so intent upon her she scarcely realized when Triona eased Deirdre
from her arms. God help her, to see him again, to know he lived! Desperate to
throw her arms around him, she still didn't dare, not certain of what Ronan
might do.

"You bear . . . you bear a babe?"

His voice was labored and she saw, too, from his
grimace how it pained him to draw breath, Maire knowing then just how grave his
wound must have been. She wanted nothing more than to tell him she carried his
child, their child, but she could only shake her head.

"I wished it to be so, Duncan—"

"By God, woman, what ruse is this?"

Ronan's face was truly thunderous, but Maire saw that
Triona held her ground, even lifting her chin a stubborn notch at her husband
while she cradled Deirdre in her arms.

"How else was I to make you stop this madness?
You've been so angry these past weeks, at Maire, at everyone, I didn't know if
my news would be enough . . ."

Triona couldn't finish, her voice breaking, something
Maire had rarely heard from her brazen sister-in-law. Ronan cursed under his
breath, some of the tension in his shoulders clearly ebbing. He enfolded Triona
and his daughter in his arms, though the dark glance he threw at Duncan told
Maire the danger was far from past. His voice was harsh when he turned his gaze
upon her.

"Tell him to go, as you said."

Maire heard the pain there, too, stabbing her, but she
moved closer to Duncan and took his hand, her heart soaring when he enmeshed
his fingers with hers. "I cannot, Ronan, I love him. I wish for nothing
more than to be his wife."

"Then go, damn you! But know if you leave with
this Norman, you'll be forever dead to us—"

"Ronan, no!"

Maire's heart went out to Triona as she stared at her
husband in disbelief, her eyes filling with tears.

"She's your sister, Ronan, you can't pretend she
doesn't live and breathe! I bear Norman blood, Deirdre, the babe in my womb yet
you love—you love!"

Maire's own eyes brimming, she felt Duncan squeeze her
hand, and she glanced at him, stunned that Triona's revelation hadn't seemed to
surprise him. He looked no more than grim, his voice low as he drew her toward
his steed.

"There's no more to be said here. Come."

A lump growing in her throat, Maire saw it was true.
Ronan, his arm still around Triona's shoulders, shepherded her and Deirdre
toward the gate, and their clansmen stepped aside for them, every familiar face
as somber, every O'Byrne as silent.

It was all so terrible, but Maire knew she would alter
nothing. She could not. Her life and love were bound together with Duncan.
There was no other choice to be made.

His hands were strong and sure as he lifted her onto
the saddle, his handsome face so dear, so dear. He joined her then, mounting
behind her, his arms going round her to hold her close, and Maire felt her
heart soar again.

If not that Ronan's back was still turned to her,
though Triona faced her now, Maire couldn't have imagined a more wondrous
moment. And Niall, poor Niall. Would she ever see him again? She could only
hope that one day he would see how happy she was, his wish for her finally come
true.

"Do you know how much I love you, Maire
O'Byrne?"

She nodded at Duncan's fervent whisper against her
ear—aye, she knew, she knew! He kicked his stallion into a walk to give her
time to glance again at her family, and her eyes met Triona's as they moved
away, truly the dearest friend she'd ever known. Maire wiped at the wetness on
her face, but more came as she thought of everything Triona had done for her.

"She's a brave one, your brother's wife. I heard
the story of her true family from King John—he remembers Ronan and Triona
still, and not so fondly. I feared then he would refuse our marriage."

"But he did not? Truly?"

Duncan drew her closer, warming Maire even as he
whispered huskily in her ear. "He did not. Truly. When I told him I would
relinquish my barony to wed you, anything to have you, he thought it better for
us to wed and produce as many children as we could to thin the rebel
blood—"

"That's what Adele said of you—why she wanted you
to have a Norman wife . . ."Maire didn't finish when she felt Duncan tense
and suddenly she felt uneasy, too, just thinking of his half sister.

"She's gone, you know. Back to England. She'll not
hurt you from the tower where King John sent her—and my half brothers and their
vassals have been forbidden ever to set foot in Ireland or they'll join her
there."

Duncan hugged her tightly, so tightly Maire had never
felt more safe, or more grateful to a Norman king. Almost to a rocky slope now
which led from Glenmalure, she felt a lump rising once more when Duncan stopped
their mount so she might gaze a last time upon the O'Byrne stronghold, the only
home she'd ever known.

Her breath caught, glad tears filling her eyes.

Ronan stood watching them with Triona, his back no
longer turned. And she could see Triona within her husband's embrace smiling
too, which told Maire much—Ronan had granted her the only blessing that he
could. She knew then he had forgiven her.

As Duncan pressed a
fervent kiss to her brow, truly, she had never imagined a more wondrous moment.

About the Author

Miriam Minger is the award-winning, critically
acclaimed author of ten historical romances
.

She also writes inspirational romantic
thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little Mike and
Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs and
their motorcycle adventures.

Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:

Twin Passions

Stolen
Splendor

A Hint of
Rapture

Captive Rose

Defiant
Impostor

The Pagan’s
Prize

Wild Angel

Secrets of
Midnight

My Runaway
Heart (sequel to Secrets of Midnight)

Wild Roses
(sequel to Wild Angel)

Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker: