The Lone Wolf's Lass Read online

  “Go to sleep, love,” he whispered quietly in her ear. He knew it was just the thing Ferghus would say to her. He had not the heart to tell her once more that Ferghus was gone. She smiled and rolled over, releasing his arms. With a sigh, he curled up on the cold earthen floor beside her bed and tried to sleep, but images of his brother bleeding to death, haunted him.

  “Why did you do it, brother?” he whispered as he turned over and stared at the ceiling. “I would have preferred to go. ’Tis not right.” He stared until his eyes burned with the tears leaking down his temples and into his hairline. Eventually, sleep tugged at his lids and he accepted it. It was better than his new reality.

  Chapter Six

  Brianna awoke with a pounding headache and stinging eyes. She draped her arm across Ferghus, but Ferghus was not there. His side of the bed was cold and reality sank in once more. With a startled sob, she sat up in the bed and looked around the room. Where was Robert? Had he left? Squinting into the darkness, she rubbed her swollen eyes but saw no sign of him. The thought of being truly alone made her stomach plummet and more tears leaked out of her eyes. As much as she detested Robert, they shared in their grief and his presence had made last night more bearable. But he was gone.

  Stepping out of bed, she stepped on something hard but lumpy and heard an audible groan. “Oh!” she murmured and retracted her foot, looking down to see Robert just beneath her feet. He had stayed. Suddenly, more tears welled in her eyes. “He is gone,” she whispered.

  He sat up and grimaced. “Aye.”

  “I wish to see him. Now.”

  He paused and started to speak, but then clamped his mouth shut and nodded. He had no more reasons to keep her away. She deserved to see Ferghus, even if he knew it would destroy her. Standing up, he brushed himself off and put a hand out to help her out of bed. He did not know why he had done that. Surely, she could arise on her own. Still, he felt very protective of her and had instinctively wanted to help even if it had not been needed. Fortunately, she accepted it and allowed him to pull her up.

  Her green dress was twisted and wrinkled but he was certain she would not care. Fetching her cloak, he helped her clasp it around her neck while she slid her leather slippers on. They were silent the entire time they prepared to leave. He wondered about his parents and if they had heard yet. He felt like a bastard for not being there to tell them last night and they must have wondered why he had not arrived home, but he could not be in two places at once and with his injuries, he was limited in mobility. He would need to visit them today, gather his belongings, and explain why he must leave.

  It was early dawn outside and the sky was streaked with corals and pinks, lighting up the sheer clouds with an ethereal glow. The grass beneath their feet was damp from the early morning rain and he wondered how a world so beautiful could be filled with so much pain. He hobbled on his injured ankle and felt the throbbing in his ribs with every step, but he grit his teeth against the pain.

  They walked in silence but he could hear her sniffling beneath her cloak and, though the hood covered her profile, he could see her small body shaking violently. Instinctively, he stepped closer and wrapped one large arm around her waist, pulling her into his warmth. He knew she shivered not only from the cold, but from her nerves and he wanted to soothe both.

  To his surprise, she did not bat his hand away as she usually would, nor did she try to move away from him. She must be truly upset to allow him to comfort her, but he was glad for the small favor. He felt useless, desperate to ease her pain though he knew he could not for he could not even ease his own.

  The gathering hall loomed ahead like a beacon of death. He knew his brother was laid out there. It was customary for high ranking nobles and warriors to be cleaned and put on view before their burial rites. He was not ready to look at his brother’s lifeless form, nor would he ever be, but he could not allow Brianna to come alone. He worried for her and the child she carried.

  “He… he is in there?” she asked so quietly he almost did not hear her.

  “Aye. ’Tis an honor our king has bestowed upon him. He died a warrior’s death, not only defending his people, but sacrificing himself… although I shall never forgive him for that part,” he croaked.

  To his surprise, Brianna nuzzled in closer to his warmth and looked up at him with her sad hazel eyes. She was so beautiful, even with her eyes puffy and red, tears streaming down her face, and what was most likely a drip of snot on her upper lip. She was perfection and it felt wrong to gaze upon her beauty. Ferghus could not know how painful his final wish in life was for Robert. Loyalty and honor were the codes he lived by, ingrained in his very bones. How could he uphold his brother’s final wishes when doing so felt like treachery? Yet not doing his best to fulfill his promise would also go against his honor. He was torn between two wrongs and he jerked his gaze away from the lass who had always been his torment in life.

  “He is a good man,” Brianna added softly. “Was. Was a good man,” she corrected with a hiccup.

  Robert did not want to think of his brother as gone, so he stayed silent as they approached the hall. Just before he opened the door, he turned to look at her, bracing her small shoulders in his large hands. “Bri, there will be more than one man in that hall laid out for viewing. We lost good men. ’Twill be hard to witness. Are you certain you wish to enter? I am certain Ferghus would prefer you did not.”

  “Since when did I ever do what anyone wanted of me?” she sniffled. “Nay, Ferghus would not have wanted me to see him this way, but he would never have expected me to listen.” She let out a surprising giggle before her frown returned. He could tell she was nervous, tired, heartbroken and trying to find a way to manage these emotions.

  Pushing the door open for her, he immediately felt the heaviness of what lay before them. The hall, usually filled with boisterous shouts of laughter, now echoed with the sobs of those who were left to mourn the passing of their loved ones. He saw four bodies laid out on tables, afraid to search their features. Closing his eyes and swallowing hard, he gripped Brianna to him as he tried to regain his composure.

  He knew the second she spotted Ferghus. A wail of sorrow unlike anything he had ever heard echoed through the room as she let go of his waist and ran to the table Ferghus laid upon. Her body flew across his and she sobbed into Ferghus’s neck. Robert could not move. He was stuck to the spot, looking at his brother’s body from a distance. He could not go any further, not even for Brianna’s sake. He had already said his farewell and could not bring himself to do so again.

  “Brianna,” he heard his mother’s voice and looked up suddenly, seeing that his mother, father, and Ginny were already in the room. His mother was rubbing Brianna’s back as she remained draped across Ferghus, shaking with the power of her grief. Ginny sobbed on Ferghus’s other side, clutching his cold hand to her cheek. “’Twill be all right lass,” his mother said soothingly to Brianna. “He loved you and that shall never change.”

  Robert’s stomach dropped. He felt like an outsider looking in, just as he had the night before while visiting their home. He had felt that way since the day they married, only this moment was the most private of all. He turned on his heel to leave the hall when a firm hand clenched his shoulder from behind. “You have lost your brother. ’Tis all right to grieve.” It was his father.

  Turning around he looked down at the red-rimmed eyes of his sire. Guilt consumed him for not having been able to tell them first. “I am sorry, father. I have failed the family. Ferghus died to spare my life and I was not even able to tell you first.”

  “You were injured yourself?” his father asked, looking him over and noticing how Robert put less weight on his injured ankle.

  “My injuries are nothing,” he shook his head. “’Twas only that Ferghus made me swear to look after Brianna. I had to go to her and give her the news. She did not take it well and I could not leave her.”

  “Of course not, son. You are a good brother.”

  His fath
er’s words made him ball his fists. Nay. He was the worst sort of brother. What sort of man loved his own brother’s wife so desperately? Lusted after her the way he had all these years? Aye, he had kept it to himself and allowed his brother his happiness, but his feelings for Brianna were a betrayal regardless.

  His father was a strong man and though it was seldom he cried, it was apparent he had been crying all night for the loss of his son. Now, he stood tall, just an inch shorter than Robert’s towering height, and squared his shoulders. “I know what you are thinking, lad.”

  Robert Scoffed. “Och, I hope you do not Father, lest you see what a right bastard I am.”

  “You are not a bastard for loving a woman, Rob,” Darragh said with a quirked brow. So, his father did know of his love for Brianna. He had always wondered if his father knew just how much he had sacrificed to allow Ferghus his happiness.

  “’Tis not the loving her. ’Tis the loving my brother’s wife.”

  “So, you were supposed to stop loving the lass the moment your brother offered for her hand?”

  “Aye,” he growled. While this conversation was serving as a distraction for them both, it was still not one he was interested in having. “I should have stopped loving her a long time ago.”

  Darragh shook his head with resolve. “Listen, lad.” His father’s curt voice drew his attention. It was very seldom his father referred to him as a lad. “We all know of your love for Bri. Even Ferghus knew. He waited for you to offer for her but years went by and you did not. You were determined to stand back. Why?”

  “Because Ferghus had always loved her. I was an arse who took longer than I should have to realize I loved her as well. By then, Ferghus had shown open affection for her for years. I could not take her from him.”

  His father nodded, looked back over his shoulder at Brianna now hugging Mother in shared grief. His father pursed his lips and swallowed hard. “What did Ferghus say to you? I hear he spoke to you before he died?”

  “He made me swear to take care of Brianna and the child.”

  “’Tis all?” his father inquired astutely.

  “He… told me to marry her. ’Tis a ridiculous command. I cannot marry his wife. And even if I could bring myself to do such a thing, she hates me.”

  “I do not have much time, lad. I need to get back to your mother. Let me tell you one thing. She hates you because she loves you. Unrequited love is a most painful emotion.” Robert snorted at that. ’Twas no true revelation. He lived with unrequited love every day. He knew the pain of it. He also knew Brianna hated him not just for that, but because of the cruel words he had spoken to her a year ago, but he would not inform his father of that. If his father knew how he had spoken to sweet Bri, he would box Robert’s ears.

  “Ferghus knew what he was doing when he made that request of you, Rob. I suggest you do aught to fulfill his dying wish. He would want Brianna well cared for… and loved. ’Tis what we do for those we love. ’Tis what you did for them both. Now, ’tis your turn to find that happiness.”

  A sneer pulled at Robert’s lips. His brother was not even buried in the ground and he was supposed to try to woo the man’s wife? It made him feel ill. He could not do it. He would care for her and the babe, but marrying her seemed impossible. Grief pulled at his chest, making his stomach quiver with another round of nausea. Feeling as if he would be ill again, he stepped away from his father.

  “I need air. I will gather my belongings from our home. I have nay choice but to stay with Brianna until she is ready to carry on. You and Mama can see her home, aye?”

  His father’s brow furrowed, but he nodded in acquiesce, knowing this conversation was over. Robert could not keep speaking of Ferghus as if he was no longer here. It was not a truth to him, even though the image of his brother bleeding out on the battlefield would haunt him for a lifetime.

  With nothing left to say, Robert turned and left the hall, still hearing the wails from Brianna and his mother even after the door shut behind him.

  “Wolf!” He heard a voice call to him from his left and he stiffened. He truly did not want to be bothered by anyone. He wished to retrieve his belongings and be back at Brianna’s before she arrived. Nay, that was not the truth. He wished to run away to a faraway land and never return… that was what he truly wished for, but that was not a real option.

  Turning around, he saw a group of fellow warriors storming toward him with very serious looks on their dirty faces. He was not the only man who had not yet bathed after the battle. “Aye?” he asked wearily. No doubt they wished to give their condolences and, though he was not worthy of them, he knew he must receive them.

  The three men stopped before him and before he could say aught, they lowered themselves down onto one knee before him and bowed their heads. “We are most sorry for your loss, Wolf. ’Tis said the king means to make you his champion.”

  Anger flared inside him, swift and turbulent. “I do not deserve your bows! I need not your praise or the title of champion! I lost my brother for one reason: because I was about to be cut down by an enemy! I live only because of Ferghus’s sacrifice! I almost died in battle and I do not want to be the king’s champion!” he roared, and turned to storm off in the other direction. They were mad if they thought he deserved any honor. Ferghus was the honorable one, always had been. He loved openly, laughed easily, fought proudly, and died willingly. That was a champion. Robert was nothing more than a fool, not worthy of Ferghus’s sacrifice or Brianna’s love.

  “They are calling you the Lone Wolf, Rob!” one of the warriors shouted from behind him. “Nobody blames you!”

  He knew his companions were trying to comfort him but nothing they said would help. He did not want to be dubbed the Lone Wolf. He did not care if nobody blamed him. He blamed himself and he always would.

  Cursing under his breath, he stormed into the woods, desperate for solitude and a swim in the lake. He did not care if the water was cold enough to freeze his bollocks off. He needed to wash the stink of battle off his body and ponder what he was to do about Brianna.

  Chapter Seven

  Her eyes were so swollen from crying that she could hardly open them, and when she did, it was as if she was looking through a haze, for everything was out of focus.

  Seeing Ferghus laying upon that table had ripped her open with a turbulent grief. Her loving husband and best companion was gone, and she was all alone. Nay, that was not entirely true.

  When she arrived home, escorted kindly by Ferghus’s mother and father, she saw a pile of unfolded garments near the door, as if they had been thrown inside haphazardly and simply left there. She knew them to be Robert’s garments. Not only were they the largest tunics and trousers she had ever seen, she recognized the red and blue plaid she had gifted him two years ago, when she had still held out hope for a union with him. He had accepted the tunic, but not her love.

  Ferghus’s easy manner and tender touch had made it easy to drown her love for Robert beneath a new layer of emotions for another man. She had loved Ferghus with all of her heart, truly she had. But he was gone now, and all she had was an unborn babe who would never know his father and a pile of Robert’s clothing in her home.

  Where was Robert? Her nerves were already shot, but the thought of him expecting to move in with her made her stomach tremble with trepidation. If he thought she needed his charity or his false affections, he was a greater arse than she thought. Aye, she would welcome the company for a night or so, but he had brought an entire pile of garments with him, including his helm, extra boots, and a pile of weapons she was just now noticing by the bed… her bed. He meant to stay and she would need to tell him otherwise. He could not live here. Why would he even think to do so? She could move in with his mother and father where Robert was living as well, and that would be awkward but acceptable. But them living together, alone? Mayhap she was jumping to conclusions. She simply needed to wait to speak with him.

  She wanted to holler at the gods for her torment, but s
he had wailed so hard and so long in the hall that she feared she had no more voice left in her and for now, she had no more tears. What she needed was sleep. Sleep would put her out of her misery. Unclasping her cloak from around her neck, she carefully placed it on a bench near the door and walked over to the bed, sliding her sodden leather slippers off her aching feet. This babe was large and ready to come any day. The thought of birthing it alone was a nightmare, and suddenly another tear trickled down her cheek. She supposed she was not done with tears, after all.

  Just as she got comfortable on the bed, there was a soft rapping on the door.

  “Enter,” she sighed wearily, assuming it was Robert. They needed to talk, but her eyes only wanted to sleep.

  “Bri?” Keegan’s handsome face peeked through the cracked door as he hesitantly stepped in. His dark blond hair was disheveled, and a light scruff framed his strong jaw. He was just as handsome as always. Too bad he was also a lout. Still, he was a companion and deserved her attention.

  “Come in, Keegan.” She adjusted herself into a sitting position, placing both hands on her belly. It did make a rather nice armrest, except at times like this when her child moved so much she could actually see her stomach bulge in certain areas.

  “That looks painful.” Keegan grimaced as he saw her abdomen moving.

  She laughed lightly. “It can be when he kicks me in the ribs. Otherwise, ’tis not so bad.”

  He moved closer to her hesitantly, looking around the room. “I do not even know what to say, Bri. I am so very sorry. Ferghus was a good man.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “Aye. The best.”

  His eyes locked on Robert’s garments strewn across the floor, then his sword, shield, three daggers, and helm resting close to her. “I suppose he means to do as Ferghus bade him,” Keegan murmured.