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  The Warrior’s Reunion

  Warriors of Ériu

  Book Four

  By Mia Pride

  Copyright © 2018 by Mia Pride

  The Warrior’s Reunion

  Published by: Mia Pride

  www.miapride.com

  https://www.facebook.com/miaprideauthor

  Edited by Vicki McGough

  Proofread by Rachel Tsoumbakos

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected]

  This book is a historical work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1725522824

  ISBN-10: 1725522829

  For my two sons who are the light of my life and the reason for my every breath.

  I love you to the moon and back.

  No, I love you more.

  Infinity.

  Jinx.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Authors Note

  About Mia

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Ériu (Ireland)

  87 AD

  The flames of the central fire warmed his face as he stared blankly into their depths, deep in thought. Gripping his mug of ale tightly in his rough palm, his jaw clenched as he watched the smoke dance around in the spring breeze. Laughter surrounded him as the people of his village enjoyed the annual Beltane festival.

  The Spring season had come in roaring, plying their land with torrid rains and thunderstorms for the past fortnight. Tonight was rather clear with several stars visible in the dark sky above, but he had no interest in the sky just now.

  Usually, Brennain Mac Greine would have long ago found a sweet, bonny lass to focus his attention on, but tonight, his mind was far away… across the sea to be exact. Tomorrow, he would leave Ériu once again to sail the short distance to Alba, where his next mission would begin. He always anticipated a new journey, but this one had his stomach in knots.

  “Your brother sure is happy tonight,” Reaghan grunted as he took a sip of ale and bumped Brennain in the shoulder, almost spilling his beverage. Reaghan had been a stranger to Brennain only a few moons ago, but now he was to be his partner on this mission. He was a decent enough man and good at his position. “What has him smiling so tonight?” the man wondered aloud.

  He could hear his brother Flynn laughing as he danced with his wife Maggie. Brennain tore his gaze from the fire long enough to really look at Flynn. He had changed since falling in love with the healer of Ráth Mór. He smiled easier, laughed more often, and seemed to have easily given up on the life of an informant. Brennain was truly happy for them. “Maggie is with child,” Brennain smiled for the first time since walking out to the festival. “They announced it to the family tonight.” Maggie spun in Flynn’s arms and tilted her head back with a laugh, and something inside Brennain ached.

  “That is great to hear.” Reaghan raised his glass in silent salute before taking a drink. “He still hates me.”

  “You did hold a knife to his wife’s neck, mate.” Brennain grunted and looked sideways at his companion before finally taking a large gulp of his ale.

  “I was undercover! I could not give up my position and risk being exposed. He should understand that, of all people. He was a bloody informant, as well!”

  Brennain snorted. “There is no such thing as understanding when it comes to Maggie.”

  Reaghan nodded and both men stared in silence at the fires for a little longer before Brennain felt a small hand grab his arse. Spinning around, he found himself face-to-face with Selma, a dark-haired beauty he had shared his bed with on more than one occasion. With her dark eyes that always made her seem up to mischief, she scanned his body and smirked. “Greetings, Brennain,” she said sweetly, as she dragged a finger down his chest. “’Tis a most pleasant night, is it not?” He could hear Reaghan chuckle beside him, but did his best to focus on Selma, who was clearly looking for an enjoyable time, and he had no qualms about giving her one.

  His gaze wandered up and down her curvy figure, taking in the low-cut bodice of her blue wool dress before his green gaze locked with hers. “It is now,” he murmured, flashing her his dimpled smile and giving her a wink. She giggled, and her dark curls bounced around her face. He would like to see another part of her bounce, as well. “Are you enjoying the festivities, lass?”

  Reaghan grunted but turned his back to give them privacy, though he did not go very far. The wind blew through Brennain’s black hair, cooling his suddenly overheated skin. He had not lain with a lass in a sennight and that was the longest he had gone since…

  “I can think of another way to find enjoyment besides standing around a fire,” Selma breathed, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She had to get up on her tiptoes and stretch her neck up to reach his height. Her lips hovered just below his and he could feel her warm breath fan across his face.

  “Oh? And what way is that?” Brennain murmured against her lips, feeling himself ache for her touch. Selma was no innocent, nor had she ever expected more from him than he was willing to give. Her hand reached down to stroke him and he groaned, knowing it was going to be a good night.

  “Och, lass. I leave for Alba in the morn. I do not know when I shall return, or if I shall return at all.”

  “All the better reason to enjoy yourself tonight then, aye?” she whispered, just before her lips met his.

  A throat cleared loudly behind him as a large hand clapped him on the back. He knew by the sheer force of the blow that it was his king. Tuathal Techtmar, High King of Ériu, was by far the largest man Brennain had ever seen, and he came from an extensive line of kings and warriors who were larger than average men. Fortunately, the king was married to Brennain’s cousin and was more family than a ruler, though that did not mean Tuathal’s word could ever be doubted.

  Brennain groaned with frustration, knowing his king would not have interrupted him if he did not have important information for him. Reaghan stepped up beside them and Brennain gently let go of Selma’s hips. “Go enjoy yourself,” he said, with a playful swat to her backside. “I shall find you later tonight and finish this,” he whispered in her ear. She giggled again and skipped off into the crowd. She was a lass of nine and ten summers and he a man of three and twenty, yet he often felt much older than his years, especially when he watched her run off like a wee lass. He shook his head and wondered why her lack of maturity suddenly bothered him.

  “Men, I know you already agreed to journey to Alba to seek out our enemies, but I have not apprised you of all the facts. With the women in the room, I did not want to frighten them,” Tuathal said lowly.

  Brennain’s heart lurched. They had been inside his family home only an hour before when Tuathal told him that their greatest enemy, Mal Mac Rochride had been located on the coast of Alba gathering an army to attack Ráth Mór. The man wanted the High Kingship and would apparently not stop until he had it… or until he was dead. Brennain preferred the
latter outcome. Mal was nothing but a greedy bastard who had misused his own daughter and would go to any length for power. What more could Tuathal have to share?

  “Ériu has been fortunate enough to remain unscathed, but the same cannot be said for our neighbors in Alba and Albion.” Brennain furrowed his brow. Unscathed by what? “When I left Alba to fight for my right as the heir to the High Throne, I had already heard talk of men invading Albion to our south, setting up forts, speaking a strange language, and forcing their way on the people. They are much more advanced, yet the tribes of Alba have been able to fight them off so far.”

  “Who are these people?” Reaghan asked, running a hand through his short blond beard.

  “They are called the Rómánach and they have been in Albion for many years now. They are said to be peaceful enough as long as those they conquer comply and assimilate. However, we know the tribes in Alba are much too proud to give up their ways.”

  “Are they a threat to our land or our mission?” Brennain asked, wondering where his king was going with this. He had just been in Alba two years ago and neither saw nor heard anything about a group of people called the Rómánach.

  “I am not certain. They have conquered much land and seem to want to continue their conquests. I want to take nay chances. My informants say that Mal fled to Alba, but my gut is telling me he did not stop there. He knows much of Alba is loyal to me, but the Rómánach are not and, if Mal can convince them to join his forces, we may have trouble on our hands,” Tuathal grunted, and flared his nostrils. “You can see why I wanted to keep this information private? I do not need my people more fearful than they already are.”

  “You want us to seek out Mal, but you also expect to find him where the Rómánach are,” Brennain said. “In Albion.”

  “Aye. I want you to first go to Miathi, the small village in Alba you visited two years ago. I assume you remember it well.”

  Clearing his throat, Brennain tried to breathe. He had suspected he may need to visit Miathi at one point, but it never truly crossed his mind he would make it back to the village that had influenced his life more than he would ever admit out loud… or the blonde-haired lass who lived there. Aye, he remembered Miathi. He also remembered Morna, the woman who had affected him more than any other with her kind heart and soft smile. Leaving her behind and not begging her to come back to Ráth Mór with him had been the hardest decision of his life, but he had been a young man of one and twenty. Not at all ready to take a wife, much less one he had to rip away from her homeland.

  Suddenly, memories of her sweet floral scent filled the air around him and he breathed it in. Would he see her again? Had she thought about him as often as he thought about her? He supposed he would find out soon enough.

  “Aye, my king. I remember it well,” Brennain said calmly, though inside a storm of emotions brewed.

  “Good. Tomorrow you and Reaghan will set out. Much is changing, and we need to be prepared.” With one more strong smack on the back and a nod, Tuathal walked away and joined his wife and child at the fire, all smiles as if he had not just informed Brennain that a war was on the horizon.

  “What was all that about?” Reaghan looked at him and smirked.

  “You heard what I heard,” Brennain grumbled, and ran a hand through his dark hair. He could not make his heart stop beating wildly. If he returned to Miathi and found Morna again, would he be able to walk away from her once more? He knew the answer instinctively, though it frightened him to no end. He was Brennain Mac Greine, known for his freedom and prowess with the lassies. Taking a wife had never been something he ever once considered. Yet, Morna was special. He had not even lain with her and still she consumed all his thoughts.

  “That is not what I speak of and I think you know it.”

  He hated how astute Reaghan was. Aye, the man was an informant, but so was Brennain. How could Reaghan read him so well? They had spent much time together on missions in the past few moons and Brennain had grown to like the man, despite his brother’s disdain for him. He was a good companion and a loyal warrior to their king. Most importantly, he trusted Reaghan with his life. That was not something that came easily to him, but it was essential if they were to succeed in their mission. Now all this talk about a strange group of men taking over Albion had him curious about what they would find on their journey.

  “Either you refuse to tell me, or you are so anxious to be on your way that you cannot focus on anything else,” Reaghan chuckled.

  With a sigh, Brennain chugged down the rest of his ale and wiped the foam from his upper lip with the sleeve of his beige tunic. “Mayhap ‘tis a wee bit of both,” he winked, then frowned when he saw Selma sauntering back his way. Curse it. He had promised to finish what they had started, but now that he had Morna on his mind, and a real chance to see her again, the thought of bedding any other lass made his skin crawl. He had only ever wanted one woman for the past two years and had not slept with anyone for a few moons after leaving her. But once he had lost hope of ever finding his way back to her, he had done his best to carry on with his usual lifestyle, pushing her away from his mind just long enough to slake his lust.

  “Are you ready, Brennain?” she purred into his ear, once more trying to grope the front of his trousers. Quickly shifting out of reach, he grabbed her wrist just in time. A frown marred her bonny face and he felt a twinge of guilt, but any interest he had in Selma had suddenly blown away like smoke in the wind. His fire burned for another, and soon he would see her again.

  “I am sorry, Selma, but something has come up. I must tend to some… business, then find my way to bed, alone. I will awaken with the sun on the morrow.”

  Her frown deepened in confusion, but she simply shrugged and turned away, not appearing overly distraught by his change of heart, fortunately.

  “Again, I ask… what was that all about? You suddenly have nay interest in bedding Selma tonight?” Reaghan quirked a brow quizzically at Brennain and shook his head.

  “Nay. I do not. I find myself anxious to be on the road and wish to rest.” It was true enough.

  “Whatever you say, mate.” Reaghan turned and watched Selma’s curvy backside as she sauntered away and a low whistle escaped his lips. “Mind if I console her? She must be devastated. I would hate to see such a bonny lass be alone tonight.”

  Brennain pushed his mate away and chuckled. “I care not what you do or who you do it with. I am off to bed.” As he walked away from the bustling center of the village and the voices of his family and friends faded into the night, he felt an excitement flooding him that he had not felt in a very long time. Aye, he enjoyed travel, adventure, women, and serving his king, but when they all came together, leading him to the one his heart had been aching for, he felt a renewed anticipation. It would be two days’ travel on a horse to reach the shore, then they would need to find a boat, mayhap a merchant or a tradesman to bribe, but soon enough, he would be back on Alba’s soil.

  * * * *

  “Oof!” Something smacked Brennain upside the head and he swung his fist instinctively, trying to defend himself from whatever, or whomever, it was.

  “Wake up, you fool. The sun is on the rise and your piece of shite companion Reaghan is waiting outside for you.” Flynn whacked him upside the head a second time and Brennain growled and swung again, this time connecting with his brother’s shoulder.

  “You are an arse,” Brennain groaned, sitting up in bed and running his hands through his disheveled hair.

  “Payback for all the years you woke me up with a whack,” his brother grinned.

  “I will remember that,” Brennain yawned and stretched his powerful limbs before hopping out of bed completely naked. “Why are you up so early?”

  “Maggie could not sleep. She keeps getting leg cramps.” Flynn tossed a pair of trousers in Brennain’s face. “Put some clothes on you fool, before she sees you.”

  Raising a brow, Brennain did as he was told, hastily pulling the trousers up his hips and tying t
hem around his waist. “Afraid your wee wife will take one look at my cock and decide she married the wrong Mac Greine brother?”

  “You’re a bloody arse.” Flynn punched Brennain in the shoulder, eliciting an arrogant smirk from Brennain. He always had loved to torture his brother. Though Flynn was only a year younger and almost as tall as he was, Brennain had always made sure he played the role of elder brother well.

  “Is that all you have to say to me before I leave and mayhap never return?”

  “You will be back, brother. Of that, I have nay doubt.”

  Brennain frowned and scratched the itchy stubble on his jaw. “Do not be so sure. Tuathal has given me and Reaghan more information. There is another group of men called the Rómánach who have taken over Albion—”

  “I already know that, Brother. They have been there for many years, yet they stay away from our island.”

  “Mayhap not for long. Tuathal believes Mal plans to seek their help in overtaking Ériu. I must go to Miathi first since that is our most loyal ally in Alba. Since it is right on the coast, it is likely Mal passed through. We hope to find a clue as to where Mal went from there.”

  Flynn frowned. “Och, I wish I could come along with you.”

  Brennain chortled, “Nay, you do not. You are quite content here with Maggie, as you should be. I know you feel guilty for not being at my side as usual, but despite your feelings for Reaghan, he is a good man and an excellent informant. He made you believe he meant to hurt your wife and even though he protected her all along, you still cannot forgive him.”

  “He kissed her!” Flynn roared.

  “Aye! Because Mal held her captive and meant to give her to his men! Would you prefer Reaghan to have kissed her and pretended to have his way with her when the men left, or to have walked away and actually allow her to be violated?”

  Flynn pointed his finger and opened his mouth, but closed it immediately, having no retort. “As I thought. You need to let it go, Flynn.”