NIGHT WAS SETTLING over the Black Boar Woods in a snowy veil when Tad reached the lonely hovel. Smoke rose from the roof, indicating that its occupant was home.
He had ridden fast from Dun Grianan, Caorainn bearing him swiftly despite the thickening snow.
By now it was a route the pony knew well.
And all the way here, Tad had tried not to think about the reception that awaited. Erea would not be happy to see him.
He also tried not to think about the uproar he had left behind. His jaw ached dully from the heavy punch his father had delivered.
Fortrenn would have landed many more if Callum and Ailig had not leaped forward and hauled their chieftain back.
His father had still been incensed when Tad rode out of the fort a short while later. The roar of Fortrenn’s voice still rang in his ears: Don’t come back unless you’re ready to wed Isla.
Tad clenched his jaw and immediately regretted it as a pain lanced up into his ear.
Now—more than ever, he was determined not to do his father’s bidding. Instead, he would wed Erea—the woman he loved.
If she’ll have me.
Tad’s belly contracted as he pulled Caorainn up and swung down off his back into ankle-deep snow.
What if she hates me now?
He would soon find out.
Erea stood in the doorway and raked her gaze over the tall man standing before her. Snow had settled upon Tad’s broad shoulders, his peat-brown curls, and even his eye lashes. Behind him the bay pony, Caorainn, tossed its head, snorting in greeting.
Tadhg mac Fortrenn favored Erea with a lop-sided smile. “Good Eve, Erea.”
She did not smile back. In fact, she found that she could not do anything for a few moments but stare. A chill settled over her limbs that had nothing to do with the icy wind or the swirling snow before her open door.
“Go away,” she eventually replied. The fingers of her right hand clasped around the edge of the door.
His smile faded, and his blue eyes widened slightly.
“Please, Erea,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for upsetting you … I never wanted to hurt you.”
Erea let go of the door and reached for the bone handled knife at her waist. She drew it, clutching the handle so hard her fingers hurt.
“Leave,” she growled. “I’ll not hear more of your lies.”
“I’m not here to deceive you.” His gaze tracked her knife as he spoke. He was wary of her. “I’ve ridden here to tell you I love you … that I’ve told my father I’ll wed no one else but you.” The words rushed out of him, as if he sensed he was running out of time.
Erea gritted her teeth. “More lies,” She ground out the accusation. “You’ll stop at nothing.”
Panic flared in the depths of his eyes. “I’m not lying, Erea. I only want you, and I’ll break with my kin if they don’t accept my choice.”
Horror washed over Erea as he dropped to one knee in the snow. “Will you be my wife?”
She stared at him, numbness swiftly following on the heels of horror. The words meant nothing. They were empty, spoken too easily. She had trusted him too readily before—she would not do so again.
Erea advanced toward him, her booted feet sinking into the fresh layer of snow.
“Lying dog.” She thrust her knife out, the pointed end coming to rest upon his chest, where only a strip of leather separated iron and flesh. “Get off your knees and leave. I’ll not listen to this any longer.”
But he did not move, did not heed her. Instead, Tad merely looked up, his gaze fusing with hers. “I love you, Erea.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And if I have to die to prove it, so be it.”
“Dolt,” she snarled, panic rising in her breast. “Just go.”
He shook his head before reaching up, his cool fingers fastening around her wrist. “If you hate me … then do it.” He pulled her hand closer, the iron point piercing his leather vest. “If I’ve hurt you that much, I deserve to die.”
Erea stared at him, and despite her fury and outrage, she felt tears prick. A heartbeat later her vision blurred.
“I hate you,” she said between gritted teeth. “You came here and shattered my world, my happiness. How dare you return now and say these things?”
“I dare because they’re true,” he replied. There was no trace of humor on his handsome face, no playfulness in his eyes. “I know I’ve been thoughtless, but all I want now is to make you happy, to see you smile and know I’m the cause.”
“It’s too late for that.” She spoke those words so quietly that the wind almost whipped them away. Yet Tad heard them.
His full lips quirked into an unhappy smile. “Is it, Mo ghradh?”
My love.
How dare he? And yet when she stared into his eyes, she saw no lie, only a desperation that mirrored her own.
“I hate you,” she whispered again, and yet the words held no force. “You’ve ruined my life.”
He shook his head. “Then I’ll spend the rest of mine making amends.” His breathing hitched, and Erea glimpsed something raw and fierce flicker in the depths of his eyes.
Erea released the knife. It fell with a soft thud onto the snow between them.
What am I doing?
She could not kill Tadhg mac Fortrenn.
She would take her own life before ever harming him.
The realization made grief grip her ribs, squeezing hard. Her love for him had made her his prisoner. Tears flowed then, scalding her cheeks. Erea bowed her head and tried to pull away from Tad—yet he still held her wrist.
Wordlessly, he pulled her down onto the snow before him. His fingers gently cupped her chin, tilting her face up. A moment later he kissed her.
Tad felt as if someone had just slammed that knife to the hilt in his chest. It hurt to breathe, to think.
The sight of Erea’s tears twisted the blade.
He could not stand to think of being the cause of such pain. He had not realized how deeply he had hurt her.
Tad kissed Erea softly, tenderly, cupping her face with his hands. She was trembling, tears still running down her face.
Tad kissed those tears away, tasting salt. He never wanted to upset her like this ever again. He wanted to see her smile, to see love in her eyes. He would make that happen—by any means possible.
His mouth sought hers once more, and this time his kiss was more urgent. His tongue parted her lips. He heard her groan of submission as she leaned into him, her fingers spanning out, digging into the leather of his vest.
Tad reached up, his own fingers tangling into her thick brown curls. She tasted sweet—better than honey, or fresh bread, or bramble wine at the end of a cold day.
The snow fell silently around them, and Caorainn’s bit jangled as he tossed his head again, impatient now for a feed of warm mash and a net of hay.
Tad would see to the pony’s needs shortly, but first he would make sure Erea was left in no doubt of his feelings for her. Words were not enough. He would show her how much he loved her.
Tad rose to his feet, gently pulling Erea to hers. Then he lifted her into his arms and strode into the hovel, kicking the door shut behind them.
Erea stirred and stretched languidly in the furs.
A few feet away the fire burned low, a chill now filtering through the hovel. Reluctantly, Erea slid out of the warmth of the furs and crossed to the hearth, placing another log upon the glowing embers. Then, shivering in her nakedness, she darted back to the warmth of the nest she had made with her lover.
Tad lay sprawled on his back, sleeping deeply. His long hair fanned out across the furs, his sculpted chest rising gently. He was exhausted.
A smile spread across Erea’s face. So was tired too, yet she had never been happier.
What had begun as the worst evening of her life had transformed into a magical night she would treasure till the day she drew her last breath.
Tad had carried her inside, stripped off her clothes, and worshipped her body as if she were The Maiden brought to life.
He had taken her gently, murmuring words of love as he moved inside her. Erea had wept, and so had he.
Afterward he had been forced to don his clothing and venture out into the snow to retrieve his now ill-tempered pony. Once the gelding had been stabled, he’d returned to her, ripping off his clothes the moment he’d set foot through the threshold.
Erea’s breathing caught, her gaze hungrily devouring her lover’s naked form, as she relived what they had done then, the things he had taught her.
Erea flushed at the memory, heat pooling between her thighs. She wanted to wake him so he could teach her some more.
Reaching out, she traced a finger down his breast bone.
Tad sighed and shifted against the furs. A moment later his eyes flickered open. A lazy smile curved his lips when he saw she was sitting there watching him.
“Lusty wench,” he said, his voice husky. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I’d prefer to watch you,” she murmured, suddenly shy under the heat of his gaze.
His smile widened, and he reached up, cupping her cheek with a hand. Erea felt the roughness of calluses from his palm, at odds with the gentleness of his touch.
“You didn’t answer me earlier,” he said, his thumb stroking her chin. “Will you be my wife?”
Her breathing hitched at the question. Things had been too fraught earlier for her to even consider it. However, she knew the answer now.
“Aye,” she whispered. “I will … I love you, Tad.”
His eyes glittered. “And will you come back with me to Dun Grianan to spend Mid-Winter Fire together? It’s not a time to be alone.”
Erea stiffened, the blanket of happiness enshrouding her slipping slightly. “But what if you father … your people … don’t accept me?”
Tad’s smile faded, and his expression hardened. “Then I will give up that life and return here with you to make one of our own.”
Erea watched him, blinking back tears. What was wrong with her? She was always weeping these days. “You’d really do that?” she asked, her voice hushed, “for me?”
He nodded. “Gladly.”