Surrender To An Irish Warrior by Michelle Willingham

Author:Michelle Willingham [Michelle Willingham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Irish, Historical Fiction, Warrior, Love Story, Romance, Ireland
ISBN: 9780373296101
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 7921271
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-01-01T14:00:00+00:00

Although an hour had passed since the storytelling, restlessness gripped Trahern. He moved to the far end of the cashel, his mind filled with errant thoughts.

He’d met Ciara on a night such as this. He’d told her stories, watching her face light up with interest. And their friendship had gradually transformed into a love that had filled him up inside.

He leaned back, sitting against the palisade wall in the shadows. Remembering her didn’t hurt as much as it once had. He could still see her smile, almost imagine her arms around him. She’d been a woman like no other, one who had laughed and brought her warmth to those around her.

But she wasn’t coming back. He didn’t want to accept it, but he understood the truth. He closed his eyes, letting the grief wash over him and through him. Morren was right. If she were here now, Ciara wouldn’t like the man he’d become. He’d let the hatred shape him, and he’d lost all sense of himself.

Tonight, when he’d told the story of Lugh, he’d resurrected a piece of his spirit. He’d felt content. And when he’d watched Morren smile, it had made him grateful. She’d been through so much darkness, he wanted to give her more.

The kisses they’d shared were unlike anything else he’d known. Even with Ciara. The way Morren clung to him, the way she opened up to him with such trust…it was humbling.

He didn’t want to leave her, though he had to. Like before, he’d make the journey alone.

And will she die, while you’re away? an inner voice taunted. Will she truly be safe?

He wasn’t certain. Though he tried to convince himself that Morren belonged here, among her sister and kin, the truth was, he wanted her at his side.

He wanted her for himself.

His hand curled into a fist, angry with himself for even considering it. She doesn’t want you or any man. And never will.

The pain she’d suffered went too deep. Wanting to be with her, as a lover, was asking too much.

A faint noise caught his attention, and Trahern remained still. Against the flickering torches, he spied a hunched figure searching among the huts. He couldn’t tell who it was, so he crept closer.

The man was cloaked in dark wool, with a roped belt around his waist. He leaned heavily upon a walking stick, and when the moon slid out from behind a cloud, Trahern recognised Brother Chrysoganus.

Now what was the monk searching for, so late at night? The souterrain entrance, perhaps? Fallen coins, left behind?

Trahern moved swiftly, catching the monk unawares. Brother Chrysoganus jerked backwards, shivering with a nervous laugh. “Why, Trahern. You startled me.”

“Were you looking for something?” He didn’t bother to hide the edge in his voice. The monk was trespassing where he shouldn’t, and he wanted to know why.

“No. Well, yes, I suppose. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d help them search.”

Trahern moved close enough to rest his hand upon his sword. “And what were you looking for?”

“It wasn’t a what, my friend.

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