Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

 

 

Niall stirred awake as bright, intense light began to rise in the cave.

He and Mairin were curved together before the now-dead fire, she with her back pressed to his chest and her bottom nestled against his groin, and he with his arm slung around her beneath their shared blanket, his hand gently cupping her breast.

Slowly, so as not to disturb her peaceful slumber, he lifted his head. The mouth of the cave was ablaze with brilliant light. The rising sun refracted nigh blindingly off the fresh white snow coating everything—which lay nearly a foot deep.

Their ride in pursuit of Lancaster and his army would be difficult and slow—if they could set out at all this morn. Undoubtedly, Lancaster’s progress north would be hampered by the same storm, but knowing the Earl, he would push his men ruthlessly onward nevertheless.

Niall had no fear that they could catch up to them before they reached Dunstanburgh. Even still, every moment that passed drew Lancaster farther away—and put their mission to keep him alive in jeopardy.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to rouse Mairin. Instead, he gazed down at her, drinking in her beauty.

The rising light had begun to catch her hair, illuminating its lustrous mingle of colors. Some strands appeared almost the same polished copper as her brother Logan’s, but they were tempered by warm honey and soft brown shades.

Her skin was like the purest cream, her dark lashes a stark contrast where they fanned over her rosy cheeks. In sleep, her mouth was a soft, supple rosebud.

His mind flew to their kisses the night before. The words of love that had fallen from those perfect lips. The moans and gasps and cries of pleasure that had slipped from her.

He couldn’t help it. Desire flamed in him like a stoked fire. Her breast was so damn soft and warm in his hand. His cock awakened against her sweet backside. The heat between their bare bodies seemed to blaze like an inferno.

She must have noticed the way his body had pulled taut, for she stirred and nestled her bottom more firmly into his rapidly hardening manhood.

Niall muttered a curse, beginning to ease away from her so as not to disrupt her rest. But he stilled when her hand clamped over his on her breast, holding him in place.

“You’re awake.”

“Nay, I think I’m still dreaming,” she murmured, stretching against him like a contented cat.

He lowered his head and kissed her ear, then drew his teeth over the lobe. She shivered, and against his palm, her nipple drew into a tight knot.

She cast him a glance over one milky shoulder, her hair sliding like silk around her. Her eyes were smoky with desire.

“You will be tender from last night,” he said. His body practically hummed with the need to be inside her once more, but he would never hurt her.

“I dinnae care,” she replied, holding his gaze. “Take me, Niall.”

With a low groan, he kissed her mouth—hard. While he worked his thumb over one beaded nipple, his other hand slipped between her legs. She was already wet for him between the delicate folds of her sex. His cock surged in response, drawing painfully hard with need.

Instinctively, she lifted one leg over his, giving him complete access to her womanhood. When he circled that spot of her pleasure, she moaned and rocked against his hand.

Heaven help him. She may have been an innocent just last eve, but there was a deep well of passion beneath Mairin’s normally restrained, flinty exterior.

Aye, this was who she was beneath the scars, the fears, the proud reserve. A woman who burned brighter and hotter than the sun itself. This was the same Mairin he’d first fallen in love with—the girl whose fire could not be snuffed, even when she’d seemed naught more than a shell for a time. The woman who sparked to life despite all odds.

This was the woman he loved. And the woman who loved him.

The need to be inside her rushed over him, but it was more than the blaze of lust that burned hot between them. He longed to join with her body, heart, and soul. To be one forever.

“Niall,” she moaned urgently. Mayhap she felt the same yearning, to entwine themselves and never let go.

He drew his hand from between her legs and gripped himself. She made a sound of protest at his absence, but when he guided his cock to her entrance, she exhaled and angled her hips to encourage his penetration.

As he eased into her, he gripped her hip, forcing himself to go slow. She needed time to adjust to his size, and she was no doubt tender from last night, as he’d warned her.

But once he was buried to the hilt, she began rolling her hips impatiently, hungry for more—which he was all too willing to give.

His fingers sank deeper into her hip as he took control of their rhythm, driving in and out of her slowly. As he began to take her faster, her back arched away from his chest and her breaths came in short, desperate gasps.

With a growl, his hand slipped from her hip to that point of pleasure between her legs once more. She cried out, coming undone in his arms. The leg she had slung over his trembled like a leaf in a storm, and her hands twisted in the blanket beneath them.

At her shuddering release, he lost himself. He thrust deep and hard, holding himself within her as his own pleasure exploded.

As they slowly spiraled down from the heavens, he groaned and cast another glance toward the cave mouth. The sun shone even brighter now, its brilliant glittering reflection off the snow impossible to ignore. It was a reminder of the duty that awaited them this day.

“We had best set out,” Mairin said reluctantly, picking up on his thoughts. “Edward is no doubt on Lancaster’s heels now. The farther he gets from us, the greater the danger that Lancaster will find a way to further make a mess of his rebellion.”

Niall snorted, but then sobered quickly.

“You were right to stop Bruin from burning the village—and to end his ability to hurt others again.”

Mairin swallowed. “Aye, but we still find ourselves serving the man who gave him his orders in the first place.”

“All we can do is see the Bruce’s mission through,” he replied gravely.

Guilt pricked at him as he spoke. Aye, the riding conditions yesterday night had been treacherous. It had been wise to take shelter in the cave, and to send their last missive to the Bruce about Lancaster’s plans. But he’d allowed himself to forget all about their mission—and his promise to Logan not to lay a finger on Mairin—last night. How easy it had been to set aside his duty.

“I ken how important this is to ye,” she said, again seeming to read his thoughts. “It is important to me, too. But dinnae fash. We’ll catch up with Lancaster and return to our task. The Bruce and the others willnae have cause to doubt yer loyalty.”

She knew not only his innermost worries, but just what to say to reassure him. His heart swelled with love for her. Unable to put words to the deep well of emotion in his chest, he settled for a swift kiss before they both rose and set about preparing to depart.

 

*   *   *   *

 

As the weak winter sun began to draw toward the soft white hills in the west, Niall squinted to the north.

“If I’m not mistaken, the village of Boroughbridge isn’t far,” he murmured.

Mairin angled slightly in the saddle before him to assess the sun.

“We still have an hour or so of daylight. We should use all of it we can.”

“Aye.”

They had set out from the cave two days earlier, but the snow had been so thick and deep that their pace had been sluggish. And with only one horse for the both of them, Niall hadn’t wanted to risk pushing the animal in these conditions.

They couldn’t have been traveling much faster than Lancaster’s army. There had been no signs of the army, though Niall had opted to take smaller but more direct roads northward.

With each passing hour, his nerves pulled tighter. Even trailing at a slow pace, he would have expected them to gain enough ground on Lancaster to have come across him by now. Though his force was far weaker than Edward’s, seven hundred men on the march was no small thing and would be hard to miss.

The town of Boroughbridge would not only provide a good spot to rest for the night, but he would inquire of their innkeeper if an army had passed through earlier.

With a huff of frosty air, their horse began an ascent up a modest rise. It gave Niall an excuse to lean closer to Mairin, his hand flattening on her stomach to bring them flush together.

As if he needed more reason to touch her. Though the travel conditions had been trying these last two days, it was a blessing to have her bottom nestled against his groin, their hips rolling together with the horse’s gait. Her hair was never far from his nose, filling his senses with her unique scent.

Even through their thick wool cloaks, their bodies seemed to call to one another, hungry and eager, despite the fact that they’d sated their lust just this morning in the hayloft where they’d taken shelter from the cold the night before. He would never get enough of Mairin, Niall knew. A single look or touch from her sent his heart soaring and his—

As they topped the rise, all Niall’s warm thoughts scattered and his stomach fell to the ground.

Below them, the village of Boroughbridge had come into view. The village was a dark splotch against the snow—a splotch that seemed alive. It moved like a colony of ants, writhing, contracting, surging.

“What in—” Mairin’s words were cut off when she sucked in a breath. “That is Lancaster’s army! His colors fly, but… Who is that on the north side of the river?”

Nay. How could that be? “Those are…Edward’s colors.”

“How the hell could Edward’s army have gotten past Lancaster’s and cut him off to the north?” Mairin whispered, her gaze dashing over the two forces of men gathering to face each other.

Niall’s mind ground to a halt with incomprehension. The scene before them was much the same as they had witnessed from the hilltop overlooking Burton and the River Trent—except everything was flipped.

The village of Boroughbridge—little more than a few dozen clustered buildings—sat on the south side of a wide, swollen river. The bridge itself separated the two assembled armies, but this time Lancaster’s force stood on the south side, and the King’s army to the north. The sheer mass of Edward’s men dwarfed Lancaster’s by at least four to one.

Niall squinted at the banners that fluttered over the army on the north side of the river. Sure enough, Edward’s coat of arms, the royal red with golden lions roaring their might, flew over the far larger of the two forces. But interspersed with Edward’s pennants was another—a red cross on a field of white.

Niall knew that coat of arms. He’d lived in the Borderlands long enough to be familiar with the other Border lords’ insignia.

“Those are Andrew Harclay’s men,” he murmured, stunned.

Harclay was the warden of Carlisle Castle, a formidable stronghold in Cumbria. Thanks to Edward’s inattention and mismanagement of the northern reaches of England, Harclay, like Niall’s family, had cooled on the King. But apparently unlike the Beaumores, Harclay had ultimately remained loyal to Edward.

“How could he have known to be here?” he said aloud. “Edward’s main army must still be at least half a day behind us. There is no way he could have gotten word to Harclay about Lancaster’s position.”

“It doesnae matter now,” Mairin hissed. She pointed, drawing his attention.

Lancaster’s army, which had stalled on the south side of the bridge, began to surge forward. A faint roaring battle cry drifted to them on the breeze. They were on the move, attempting to cross the bridge against Harclay’s far superior force.

Lancaster was going to be crushed, and with it, his entire rebellion.

Without thinking, Niall dug his heels into their horse’s flank, sending them careening down the snowy slope and into the erupting battle.