Maire by Linda Windsor Read Free Book Online Page A

reported. Surely, he’d not offered his sword to her in surrender when victory was firmly in his grasp! What means of cruel trickery was this?
    “I’ll go myself as your hostage to prove my word true. My sword will be yours as long as you fight for what is right under my God’s eye.” His breath was hot against her ear, as ragged as her own. Gradually she felt his body relax over hers, further betraying his weariness.
    Maire’s eyes widened as Brude’s earlier words came back to her:
“There will be no bloodshed.”
The druid had indicated this contest would be the answer to all her problems. It would seem the gods were giving the day to her despite her failure.
    “You’ll swear loyalty to Gleannmara?” she whispered, still in disbelief. His sword would be an asset to the tuath, especially if she were to battle Morlach for it, which she’d do or die trying.
    “And to its queen, so long as she asks me to do nothing against my God’s will.”
    If his God hated evil, He would see Morlach put in his place, Maire reasoned, as a strange calm enveloped her. She would need the help of all the gods she could muster.
    “And so Maeve took the prince of her hostages to marry as her choice, rather than accept that of the men of Erin for her…”
    That man had been Maire’s father, Rhian, and the union was a happy one from what she recalled from her short childhood. He’d been at Maeve’s side to avenge her death before falling himself. It was all commemorated in beautiful song, their union of love in life and death. It was the kind of ballad that made a red-blooded Celt’s heart sing tender beneath his formidable armor of muscle and fierce spirit. Even now, wild roses grew amid the hawthorn about their place of rest, forever entwined.
    “As my husband?” The question slipped out even as Maire considered the bizarre possibility. This man had already demonstrated himself to be honorable, if in a somewhat fey manner.
    Why hadn’t she thought of it before? If she married another, Morlach would have no grounds to press her further in the king’s eye. Pursuit of her land would be nothing short of outright aggression and in direct opposition to the king’s promise of protection to Maire’s mother.
    “Aye, as hostage and husband,” she decided, seeing this also as a way to ensure the payment of tribute by joining their tuatha. Not that Emrys looked capable of producing a decent fighting force.
    Rowan’s surprised laugh shook her from her ingenious burst of thought.
    “By all that’s holy, you ask too much! Why would I take to wife such a painted vixen with sword as sharp as her tongue?”
    Again he mocked her. Humiliation boiled in Maire’s blood, fortifying her waning strength. She snaked her fingers between their bodies and around the hilt of her secret weapon. In his sudden swell of confidence, the man had relaxed his guard. All she had to do was keep him that way until the blade was free.
    “You’ve admitted yourself that I’m comely enough and—” Maire moistened her lips and silently cursed at the battle grit clinging to them. Coquettishness was not her strength, but she’d seen other women use that ploy to snag the attention of a strapping warrior. No matter how she longed to, even she knew that now was not the time to spit. She swallowed the grime as best she could. “I cannot say in truth that I do not find your person worthy of this queen.”
    Though she had briefly admired the Welshman’s fine physique when he’d stripped off his clerical robe for the fight, she couldn’t bring herself to return his earlier compliment. The wrap of cloth about his hips was not unlike what her male kinsmen wore outside of battle, although his was shorter to allow greater mobility. Thankfully, it was more modest combat attire than the Scotti preferred. It annoyed Maire that the mere thought of a more intimate glimpse of her opponent deepened the battle flush of her cheeks with embarrassment.
    Regardless of what she