Wild Angel (47 page)

The chieftain hastened over to them, saying in a low
firm voice, "I suggest you mount your horses." But when Ronan began
to veer Triona toward his stallion, she balked, pursing her lips to give a
sharp whistle. Immediately she heard an answering whinny, courtiers scurrying
out of the way as Laeg came galloping to her side.

"Aye, Laeg, we’ll soon be gone from this foul
place," she murmured, her heart doing a flip-flop when Ronan’s strong
hands went around her waist to give her a boost onto her horse’s back. "Your
arm must not be hurting you too badly if you can lift me with such ease,"
she teased him as he mounted, the heat in his eyes assuring her that he was
hardly maimed. Growing flushed, she sobered as she looked out across the yard.

"What is it, Triona?"

"My bowcase." Spying the leather sheath
clutched in a tall knight’s hand, she spouted, "He has it, there! And I’ll
not be leaving without it."

"Give her the damned thing!" King John
commanded, the man nearly stumbling over his long legs in his rush to obey.

"My
thanks,
sire,"
she said sincerely as she shouldered her bowcase, the familiar weight a
comfort. Yet she couldn’t resist adding, "I hope swift winds carry you
soon and safely across the water . . . and far, far away from Eire."

"Triona . . ." Ronan murmured with a warning
frown as Donal MacMurrough bowed his head to his king, then led their huge
party back through the gates. But once outside the castle grounds Ronan smiled,
the warm teasing look Triona so loved back in his eyes. "Did anyone ever
tell you that for an angel, you’ve got a bit of the devil in you, too?"

She snorted. "Devil? I gave the man a good Irish
blessing, is all." Triona laughed as Ronan shook his head, Caitlin soon
falling back from her father’s side to join them as they rode through the bustling
city. But they still had a good way to go when Ronan suddenly pulled up on the
reins and called for a halt.

"Don’t tell me Triona forgot something back at the
castle," Donal said with tight-lipped exasperation.

"Not at all," Ronan reassured him, dismounting.
He gestured to the stone church they’d just passed. "It’s time your niece
and I were wed."

"Here? In Dublin?" Triona blurted, her
emerald eyes grown wide.

"Why not? I’m sure the priest knows the right
words just the same as those in Glendalough."

"But Aud isn’t here, Ronan," she began.

"Aud will understand," he said firmly,
reaching up for her. "Now come."

Still Triona hesitated, the stubborn set of her chin
leading Ronan to wonder what she was going to demand of him next. He had a good
inkling when she glanced first at Caitlin, then at Donal, and finally back to
him again, soft pleading in her eyes.

"I know it might be hard for you, Ronan, but I’m
asking you here and now to make peace with the clan MacMurrough. Not just a
truce for a day but lasting—"

"Done."

She gaped at him, clearly astonished. "Truly?"

Ronan nodded, the deep gratitude he felt toward the
MacMurrough chieftain far outweighing any of the hatred that had gone before.
Without his aid, he might never have gotten into the city to find Triona, and
that to him was worth any price.

"On behalf of the O’Byrnes of Glenmalure, I offer
peace." Ronan somberly met Donal’s eyes. "I hope that the
MacMurroughs will accept—"

"I accept," the chieftain stated, his
expression just as solemn though there was a hint of humor in his eyes. "Now
if you’ll kindly make this willful niece of mine an honest woman, I’d be a
happy man. And quickly, Ronan, before King John changes his mind."

Their wedding was probably the briefest on record in
that lofty church, considering the long weeks it had taken Ronan to get Triona
to say her vows. A priest’s blessing, a fervent kiss,
then
they were mounting their horses again. No more than a few moments later they
had left the city, MacMurroughs and O’Byrnes riding south together in the
waning afternoon sun until the time finally came for the two clans to go their
separate ways.

It was an awkward parting but heartfelt, hope that all
would continue to be well between them on everyone’s mind. Especially Caitlin’s,
whose eyes were brimming with tears as she brought her steed close to Triona’s
to give her a hug.

"Will we see each other?" the young woman
asked brokenly, Triona giving her a reassuring wink.

"Aye, I’m sure of it."

Then, with an
embarrassed
laugh, Caitlin began to dismount until Triona stopped her.

"But this is Niall’s horse."

"Exactly, cousin." Triona glanced at Ronan
and her uncle, pleased at least to see that the two men weren’t frowning. She
leaned forward and whispered in Caitlin’s ear. "Niall can’t fail to come
to visit if he wants to get his horse back, now
can
he?"

Caitlin’s brilliant smile was a fine thing to see,
Triona wondering to
herself
how long it might be
before her pretty blond cousin would be joining them in Glenmalure. Not too
long if she had anything to say about it. And, of course, there was Maire who
so wanted a husband . . .

"Playing the matchmaker again?"

She started, meeting Ronan’s eyes as the MacMurroughs
rode away. "You object?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

She could hear that he was teasing, but he looked
serious all the same. "Of course it would, husband. I wouldn’t want to do
anything to displease you. Don’t forget I just promised to love and obey,
though . . ."

"Though what, Triona O’Toole?"

"Triona O’Byrne, you mean."

He chuckled, his slate gray eyes taking on a most lusty
cast. "Aye, so it is now."

"Well," she continued, growing quite
flustered and a bit embarrassed, too, that her O’Byrne clansmen were all
glancing sideways at each other behind them. "I don’t expect to have any
trouble at all with the first one, but the second—"

"I’ll settle for love, woman. That’s enough for
me." Ronan reached out suddenly and grabbed her to him, kissing her so
soundly that Triona nearly lost her balance and fell from her horse. But at his
next words, she wondered if he’d done so on purpose just to give him unfair
advantage.

"How about a race back to Glenmalure? And let’s
say whoever wins can console the loser—"

"Ha! You’ll not be consoling me!" she cried,
kicking Laeg into a gallop. "You know I’ll beat you, Ronan O’Byrne!"

"I dare you to try, woman!" he called after
her, their laughter ringing out as they rode headlong into the wild Wicklow
hills.

About the Author

Miriam Minger is the award-winning, critically
acclaimed author of ten historical romances
.
 
She also writes inspirational romantic
thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little Mike and
Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs and
their motorcycle adventures.
 

Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:

Twin Passions

Stolen Splendor

A Hint of Rapture

Captive Rose

Defiant Impostor

The Pagan’s
Prize

Wild Angel

Secrets of Midnight

My Runaway Heart (sequel to Secrets of
Midnight)

Wild Roses (sequel to Wild Angel)

Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker:

Blood Son

Children’s Picture Books by Miriam Aronson:

Little Mike and Maddie’s First Motorcycle
Ride

Little Mike and Maddie’s Black Hills
Adventure

Little Mike and Maddie’s Christmas Book

For information about the above titles, visit
www.walkerpublishing.net
or write to
[email protected]
.