Delectably Undone! Part 7

He couldn't bring himself to deny it before the door closed behind Clar. Honor demanded that he forget about Auder. She wasn't the right woman for him, nor could she belong to him even if he wanted her to.

But the memory of her kiss haunted him, making him wonder why she had provoked him in such a way. And what on earth he was supposed to do about it.

In the morning, Auder blinked at the harsh sunlight. She'd hardly slept at all last night, for today was her last day among the o Reillys. It also marked the feast of Bealtaine, a time when prayers were spoken to bless the land and the animals. A time honoring the fertility of women, when the old ways were remembered.

Men and women would lie together this night, and many children would be born the following spring. More of the Dalrata tribe members would join them, and several men and women would handfast, marrying for a year and a day, if not longer.

A sense of isolation shadowed her, for she would not partic.i.p.ate in the celebrations. In the morning, she would travel to the Norman settlement, and this night would be her last among friends and family.

Near the outer gate, she saw the glint of chain mail armor. Two of the Norman soldiers were speaking to Trahern. One stared at her, and her lungs seized with fear. Though she knew it was irrational to be so afraid when she would be living among them soon enough, she couldn't cage her feelings. Trahern's hand rested upon the sword at his waist, while Gunnar was nowhere to be seen. Several of the other men were approaching the soldiers, their hands gripping weapons in a silent threat.

"Auder, go back and remain hidden," came a female voice. She saw Morren standing behind her, and the woman's face was pale. "Let Trahern handle this."

"Why are they here?"

Morren shook her head. "Just go. Quickly."

Her heart was racing, but Auder turned her back and obeyed. She didn't want to leave yet-it was too soon. But if the Norman baron commanded it, she doubted if she could refuse.

With the uneasiness weighing down upon her, Auder entered the storage hut that led to the hidden souterrain pa.s.sage beneath the cashel. Though it was likely unnecessary to hide there, it was the safest place she could think of.

She climbed down the ladder until she reached the stone-lined chamber below the earth.

The air was cooler, and she sat down against the frigid wall, flinching as she wondered how long she should remain here. With her knees drawn up, she exhaled, s.h.i.+vering as a cloud formed from her breath.

"Auder, what are you doing here?" came a voice. Gunnar returned from the opposite side of the souterrain pa.s.sage, his face shadowed in darkness.

"The Norman soldiers are here." She gripped her arms, steeling herself against the cold. "Morren ordered me to remain hidden. What about you?"

"Trahern asked me to guard this exit, in case anyone tried to invade the pa.s.sage."

She glanced back at the ladder leading to the storage hut. "Should I go back?"

"No. I'd rather be the one to guard you." He set down his s.h.i.+eld and leaned against the wall beside her. She couldn't read his expression, since the only light came from the overhead entrance by the ladder, but she could hear the tension in his voice. Whether he was angry at the soldiers or at her, she didn't know.

Several minutes pa.s.sed before he demanded, "Last night...why did you do it, Auder?"

"I didn't want to kiss any of the others," she admitted. "I thought you wouldn't mind. Besides, it was your idea for me to enter the race." She turned her gaze away, not wanting to hear any reasons why he hadn't wanted her kiss.

Gunnar s.h.i.+fted his weight against the wall, and she heard him expel a sigh. "Auder, I don't know. As friends, we-"

"I know what you're going to say." She hugged her knees tighter, cutting off his excuses. "Gunnar, you don't need to explain why I don't interest you as a woman. I know it already, and it doesn't bother me. Your interest is in Clar."

"I'm glad you understand that." But there was something else in his tone, almost as if he wanted to say more.

"Good." She waited for him to go, or to make some sort of pitying remark. Instead, he reached down and helped her to stand up. He took both of her hands in his, as though he were trying to make a decision. "Is something wrong?"

Gunnar didn't answer. The heat of his skin warmed her, and she had the sense that he was choosing his words carefully. Long moments pa.s.sed before he finally asked, "Did you believe that was a real kiss?"

"Of course." She frowned. Was he criticizing her lack of experience? She'd been nervous enough, and she'd gotten it over with as quickly as possible. "It won't happen again," she promised. "You can go back to Clar with a clear conscience." She tried to pull her hands back, but he refused to allow it.

"The problem is," he said slowly, "I've been thinking about it ever since yesterday. And I don't know why."

Against her better judgment, her heartbeat quickened. She tried to keep her tone una.s.suming. "Gunnar, I meant nothing by it. Truly."

Never in a thousand years would she admit to him that she had imagined him kissing her back, the way he'd kissed Clar. There was no reason to humiliate herself, not when it would never happen. Best to pretend it was of no importance.

Gunnar released her hands, but she didn't move. He leaned in so that his mouth rested against her ear. "I don't believe you."

A chill rose upon her flesh, a tightness at the lie. His fingers moved lightly up her back, and an almost violent tremble poured through her. He was so close, she could smell the light scent of oak and wood ashes upon his skin.

She didn't dare move, terrified he would stop. Within his posture, she sensed a mixture of interest and s.h.i.+elded anger at himself. It took everything she had to take a step away from him. "I'm going back now. And I think you should return to Clar."

But he took her hands and trapped them against her own waist. She could feel his warm breath against her mouth.

"What are you doing, Gunnar?" she breathed.

"d.a.m.ned if I know."

There was hesitation in Auder's eyes and a shocked awareness. Though there were a hundred thousand reasons why Gunnar shouldn't kiss her, the doubts about Clar were growing darker. He liked the widow, but before he made any commitment to her, he needed to know if he was making a mistake. If perhaps, there should have been something more.

Auder's gentle brush of lips lingered with him still. It had haunted him last night, and perhaps kissing her again would end all of the forbidden thoughts. It might solidify his decision to choose Clar and settle for a quiet, pleasant handfasting.

He slid his palms upon her nape. Strands of her hair had fallen about her face, despite the braids pulling it away from her cheeks. When he bent his mouth to hers, she caught her breath, their lips merging in softness. He nipped at her upper lip, coaxing her to open more.

She faltered at first, as though uncertain of what he wanted. But then, when he kissed her harder, she melted into him, her hips seeking his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as though she needed him to keep her balance. The softness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed into his tunic, and he couldn't stop the roar of desire that awakened.

She had an instinct of what to do, and as he deepened the kiss, her tongue slipped against his. "That's right," he encouraged her, threading his own tongue with hers.

Sleek and wet, she let him invade her mouth, kissing him back as though he were the only man left in the world. There was an eagerness, a willingness to please, that made him forget all the reasons he was courting Clar. His hands moved down Auder's back, over her taut bottom. He kissed her until his mouth grew numb, until he caught himself rubbing his shaft against her, needing to satiate the rigid l.u.s.t.

Gunnar let go, jerking away as though she'd caught fire. Auder's breathing was unsteady, her shoulders trembling. Her hair hung over one shoulder, against the b.r.e.a.s.t.s he wanted to touch. He wanted to peel off her gown, to expose her skin and watch the nipples pebble in the wind. To take the tight buds into his mouth, making her moan with the same l.u.s.t he was feeling right now.

G.o.d help him, he needed to cease this madness.

"Was that...a real kiss?" she ventured. She clenched her waist as though trying to hold herself together.

"I'm sorry." He strode past her, to the exit of the souterrain, furious at himself for starting this. He'd been caught up by her innocence and the way she'd responded to him. If he hadn't stopped himself, he'd have taken her right here, claiming her with his body.

Gunnar didn't look back, for his thoughts were in complete disarray. He wished he'd never kissed Auder, for it had only driven home what he'd already suspected.

It couldn't be Clar. Not anymore.

The light at the edge of the souterrain was s.h.i.+elded by the underbrush. The sound of voices outside caught his attention, and Gunnar's hand went to the battleaxe at his waist.

Without warning, the branches moved, and men charged inside the souterrain.

"Auder, get out!" he roared, as he unsheathed the axe and swung hard.

They were going to kill him. She was sure of it. Auder didn't know what power moved through her, but instead of obeying Gunnar, she ran for one of the torches near the ladder that led above to the cashel. If he couldn't see, he couldn't fight.

A scream tore from her throat as she raced with the torch, using it to illuminate the narrow pa.s.sage. She saw the Norman soldiers, their swords drawn, as Gunnar defended the souterrain with his battleaxe and the s.h.i.+eld he'd dropped earlier.

One of the soldiers tried to move past him, but Auder swung her torch, the fire nearly singeing the man's beard. "Is this how you honor your lord's alliance?" she demanded. "By sneaking into our cashel like thieving animals?"

The leader of the men met her gaze, his expression furious. "We could take this cashel by force within a few hours. Then there would be no need for an alliance."

Gunnar shoved the point of his sword at the man's throat. "Try it, and you'd be dead."

Auder's voice froze within her throat as the soldier dove away from the blade, slicing his sword at Gunnar's stomach. At the last second, the man's weapon bit into the wooden s.h.i.+eld, and Gunnar slashed the battleaxe at the man's face.

Auder watched in startled fascination as Gunnar unleashed the force of his rage, like one of the legendary berserkers. One of the Norman soldiers fell to the ground, and whether he was dead or alive, she didn't know.

When she saw another soldier coming up from behind, she cried out a warning. Gunnar spun, and caught a s.h.i.+eld against the side of his head. Blood poured from his temple, and G.o.d help her, she couldn't let the soldiers harm him. Not when she held the power to stop it.

"Don't," she pleaded. "I am the woman betrothed to Lord Maraloch. Release Gunnar, and I will go with you back to your camp."

She lifted the torch, meeting the leader's gaze. "We will keep the alliance and avoid further bloodshed." Swallowing hard, she stared at Gunnar. His expression was like stone, impenetrable and furious.

A movement from the souterrain exit caught their attention, and she saw Trahern arriving with half a dozen men. More of the o Reillys came from the ladder above, surrounding the Normans on both sides.

"Go back to Lord Maraloch," Trahern ordered the soldiers. "And tell him that he will only have his bride if he honors our agreement for peace." In the torchlight, the chieftain's face was rigid with anger. "I will have words with him about this treachery."

The Norman took a step backward, never taking his eyes off Auder. As they departed, they took the wounded soldier with them, and then they were gone.

Auder rushed to Gunnar's side, touching the blood at his temple. "Are you all right? Can you stand?"

Gunnar caught her wrist, his eyes burning into hers. "You're not going to go through with this marriage, Auder."

She didn't answer him, for though it terrified her to be living among these men, worse was the thought of war between them and her clan. His blood stained her fingertips, and everything inside her clenched at the thought of Gunnar coming to harm.

"I don't have a choice."

Later that evening The Bel fires blazed upon the hillsides, and the clouded sky held off its rain. As the night of Bealtaine began, the Dalrata tribe members mingled with the o Reilly clan. Trahern sat in the midst of everyone, preparing to entertain them all with his stories. After the attempted invasion earlier, the atmosphere among the people was strung tight. Both the Irish and the Nors.e.m.e.n took turns guarding the cashel, though it seemed the Normans had indeed gone.

Her mother Halma sat with Maeve o Reilly, a matron who loved to gossip. Maeve sent Auder a nod of approval and continued speaking with Halma. It was the first time in many weeks that she'd seen her mother smiling.

When she went to join them, Maeve reached out to take her hand. "You've done the right thing, Auder o Reilly. I've been telling Halma that I can think of no one more courageous to marry the Norman."

"I'm still not so sure," Halma began.

"Nonsense." A mischievous smile perked at the matron's mouth. "With her looks, she'll have that Norman eating out of her hand after one wedding night."

Auder didn't believe that at all, but she wasn't about to ruin Halma's evening. For now, her mother looked content. Not nearly as alone as she'd been. And for that, she was grateful to Maeve.

"When I was married," Maeve continued, "I kept my husband well satisfied. If I asked him to bring me the stars from the sky, he'd have tried his best to get them." To Halma, she added, "Stop your worrying. She's a brave girl, and you should be proud of her."

"I am," Halma said. And with the soft words of praise, tears brimmed in Auder's eyes.

"It's going to be all right, Mother," she said. "Enjoy yourself tonight."

When she left the two women alone, she blinked until the tears faded away. Maeve's prediction couldn't be further from the truth. Auder knew she thoroughly lacked the ability to please a husband.

Her doubts multiplied until she found herself walking toward the storytelling. She saw Morren moving among the people, seeing that everyone had enough food and drink while Trahern settled back to begin his tales.

The chieftain's voice took on a mystical quality as he transformed the mood of the clan, capturing them in the spell of his words. As the evening drifted into night, children began falling asleep in their mothers' arms. Trahern took his wife's hand, and pulled her to his side. It was as if he drew strength and comfort from Morren, and Auder envied the love between them.

Would any man ever look at her in that way, as though she meant the world to him? The weight of her betrothal vow grew more difficult to bear, for she suspected the marriage was of little importance to the baron. He'd never even seen her face, though he'd agreed to wed her.

She forced her thoughts back to Trahern's story, wis.h.i.+ng she could lose herself within it. She needed to hear the tales, to drown out her fears of tomorrow.

Trahern spoke of a young woman named Sinead who was taken by the faeries when she neglected to give them an offering on the night of Bealtaine. "Her lover Kel went in search of her for a hundred nights," he continued, his voice weaving its spell. "No matter how long it took or how many miles he had to go, he swore to find her. For she belonged to him in this world and the next."

A strange p.r.i.c.kle formed upon her neck while Auder listened to the story. Across the cashel, she saw Gunnar standing with Clar. The widow was speaking to him, and seeing them together broke something inside Auder. Though it shouldn't have made any difference, she couldn't stop the suffocating disappointment. It seemed that the kiss Gunnar had given her meant nothing, despite the feelings it had aroused.

She meant nothing to him.

Auder retreated from the crowd, needing to be alone with her bruised feelings. In the distance, she saw Gunnar watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. Nothing about her feelings was rational or reasonable. Her mind was in disarray, and her anger with Gunnar kept growing higher.

She wished he'd never kissed her a second time. Torches flared in the darkness, and for a long time, she stared at the rippling flames, trying to calm her wayward heart. Within the shadows, she found her refuge, turning her face away from everyone.

She returned to the gates, watching the darkness that lay beyond the torches. Were the soldiers still there? Or had they gone back to Maraloch?

She started walking over to the sentries, when a low voice resonated from behind her. "Don't move another step."

Gunnar had never felt so blindingly angry as right now. "Where are you going, Auder?"

"I don't even know anymore." There was a wrenching pain in her eyes, as though she were about to shatter. "It's hard for me to watch the men and women going off alone together. My fate isn't the same as theirs."

"Then tell Trahern you won't marry Maraloch. You have that choice."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. "I'm not trying to martyr myself, Gunnar... But I don't believe I can say no. Not after what happened earlier." She tried to venture a smile and took his hand.

"You can't trust them, Auder." He needed her to understand it, to refuse the alliance. This was no longer about his friend endangering herself-it was his own unexpected jealousy. He didn't want any man touching Auder. Not anymore.

He ignored the warnings that resounded through his brain, and claimed her mouth once again. Within her innocence, he tasted something else. A yearning, as though she needed him tonight. He kissed her back, letting the thunderous desire claim him, and she responded in a way that tore his control apart.

The pale silver moonlight illuminated the cashel and the surrounding land. Upon the hillside, the bonfires blazed, while in the distance lay the threat of the Normans. Gunnar didn't care about them or anyone else. Right now, he needed to convince Auder that she could never consider giving herself up. He wanted her in a way he hardly understood. It went beyond the casual friends.h.i.+p they'd shared or his desire to keep her safe.

Breaking free of the kiss, he held her closely. She trembled within his embrace. "Gunnar," she whispered. "This isn't right."

He drew her to face him, locking his hands around her face. Her blue-green eyes were fringed with tears, her lips swollen from where he'd kissed her.

"I'm not letting you go." He spoke the command while keeping her imprisoned in his arms. "You're staying with me."

"What about Clar?" she asked. Within her question, he sensed her unrest and belief that he didn't truly want her.

"I told her that we wouldn't suit any longer," he said, running his mouth against her throat. "It's why I spoke with her earlier, though she already suspected it."