Celtic Bride. Margo Maguire
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two wounded Wrexton men and had them brought inside where they’d be warm and relatively comfortable.
She had not seen Lord Marcus since he’d left the cottage much earlier, nor had she spoken yet to Tiarnan about the devastating sights she’d seen the previous night.
She sighed. He would not allow her to avoid him forever.
While organizing the cottage so there’d be room for the men, she pondered her moments under the blankets with Lord Marcus, dwelling on the strange sensations caused by his close proximity, by his scent and by the touch of his big hands stroking her back. She’d never experienced anything so exhilarating, and at the same time, confusing.
She was strongly attracted to the young man, but Keelin knew her destiny was in Ireland. Not only was she betrothed to the man her father had chosen for her in Kerry, but after seeing Cormac’s fate in the vision, Keelin knew she had no choice but to return to Carrauntoohil. Whoever became chieftain would have desperate need of Ga Buidhe an Lamhaigh, in order to prevail over Mageean.
Keelin renewed her vow to see Tiarnan settled at Wrexton Castle, then somehow get herself across the Irish Sea before the snows began. She would ignore the confusing feelings and sensations that coursed through her whenever Marcus de Grant was near.
’Twas time to return home to see what could be done about Mageean.
The cottage should have smelled like an infirmary. Instead, the pleasing aroma of herbs and spices met Marcus’s nose as he entered the hut. A kettle of stew simmered over the fire, and men slept on soft, stuffed pallets near the hearth.
Old Tiarnan was awake and propped up somehow, and Keelin sat next to Adam, speaking quietly to the boy.
She wore the green kirtle again, laced tightly against a narrow waist and full, high breasts. The linen under-kirtle, with which Marcus was so familiar by now, was visible above the low neck of the green wool, and her fine white skin showed above that. Delicate bones slashed across both sides of her shoulders. She was exquisite.
“Oh, aye,” Keelin said, after halting a moment when Marcus entered, “’twill be a mighty warrior’s scar. And if ever yer tunic’s raised, all who see your back will know you’ve seen battle.”
“Who is come?” Adam asked weakly.
“’Tis Lord Marcus,” Keelin replied, “come to see how ye fare.”
“How do you fare, lad?”
“Lady Keelin says I am perfect, Marcus,” Adam replied weakly. “She said I am stronger and braver than any lad in Carrauntoohil—that’s her village in Ireland.”
“I daresay the lady is correct,” Marcus replied. “Though I don’t know the lads of…Carrauntoohil.”
“Lady Keelin told me that the Marquis Kirkham took Uncle Eldred to Wrexton.”
Marcus nodded as he put his hand on Adam’s forehead. The boy was hotter than before. He looked over at Keelin, who nodded slightly. Fever.
“Will we go to Wrexton for the requiem?” Adam asked.
“We’ll try, Adam,” Marcus replied. “For now, just concentrate on getting well.”
The boy acquiesced and lay quietly as Lady Keelin got up and went to the hearth. Here, she picked up a long wooden spoon and stirred the steaming contents of the cookpot. “How many of your men are left here, m’lord?” Keelin asked quietly.
Marcus stifled a yawn. The last twenty-four hours had taken their toll. When Nicholas Hawken left, he’d taken most of the Wrexton men with him. Marcus and the remaining men made a thorough search of the surrounding area, making certain that no enemies or other intruders were near. “Four, in addition to these men,” he replied, indicating the two on pallets near the fire. “They’re keeping watch.”
“You must be weary, m’lord,” Keelin said, “after the night ye had. There’s room enough for ye to stretch out your blankets here and rest awhile.”
Marcus blushed at the mention of the night he’d had. He thought there was a brighter tinge of pink on Lady Keelin’s face, too, and wondered what she thought of the whole incident. He hadn’t heard any description of the vision she’d seen before her collapse, nor had either of them discussed the fact that they’d spent the night entwined in each other’s arms. As though by not speaking of it, it hadn’t happened.
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