The Maiden Read online

  He had untied her belt and was easing her tunic over her head. “Brita’s army fought Brocain’s once and Brita won,” Jura said, but her mind wasn’t on her words. “Do not do this to me,” she whispered.

  “Jura,” he whispered, “don’t you realize that I love you?”

  “Love?” she asked, startled. “If this pain is love, give me hate.”

  Rowan pulled her tunic over her head and began to kiss her breasts. He knew he could be missed at any moment, that Brita might wake and see that the cot she had had placed near hers in the tent was empty, and she would send her guard searching for him. But right now his need to give to Jura overcame his fear.

  Jura cried out in pain as he first entered her. She was a virgin and tight with anger, as well as being hindered by her trousers pinning her legs together. She pushed at him but he seemed oblivious to her pain.

  There were tears in her eyes when he collapsed on her body.

  “Get off of me,” she said, shoving at his shoulders.

  He drew back, rolling off of her as he adjusted his clothes and Jura angrily pulled hers on.

  “Jura,” he said, “it will be better.”

  “It could not be worse,” she snapped, her voice strained. The lower half of her body ached with pain. “Had I known what this was like, I would have given you to Brita at sword point.”

  “Damn you!” he said fiercely as he stood. “I have risked both our lives by coming to you tonight and now you are no longer a maiden. I will not marry Brita.” He bent and grabbed her chin in his hand. “I swear that I will make you love me, Jura. If I have to chain you to me, you will love me and you will enjoy what we did tonight.”

  “Never,” she said, looking up at him with fury in her eyes.

  They didn’t speak as Jura adjusted her clothes and went back to the camp, Rowan not far behind her. She didn’t sleep much that night, and the next morning she was so sore, it hurt to sit her horse. She watched Rowan with Brita with much less concern than she had the day before.

  It was late in the day when they reached the river that was the border to the Irial land. Jura waited, surrounded by Vatells, while Rowan came toward her.

  “We will cross the river alone while the Vatells wait here,” he said without softness.

  Jura answered him in kind with a cool nod and urged her horse ahead to follow him. They rode alone together without speaking as they forded the river. Just on the south side, they were met by a group of angry Irials who surrounded these trespassers wearing the Vatell clothes. But as soon as they saw Rowan’s golden hair, they lifted their swords in salute and rode with them toward the Irial village.

  It was night when they reached the village and, tiredly, Jura slipped from the saddle.

  “Come with me,” Rowan said, grabbing her arm.

  “I am hungry and—”

  “You can eat later, now I must meet with my men.”

  “Your Englishmen are probably sleeping by now.”

  “My Lanconian men,” Rowan emphasized, pulling her with him.

  Daire was just coming out of a stone house, his broad, muscular chest bare, and Jura would have run to him if Rowan hadn’t kept such a fierce grip on her arm.

  “Follow me,” Rowan commanded Daire, and then kept walking as if he expected to be obeyed. When he saw Cilean, he ordered her to follow him also. He led the three of them into Jura’s aunt’s house.

  By now the village was beginning to waken but Rowan told Jura’s family to go back to their beds. He lit a candle in the farthest room of the stone house and turned to Jura, Cilean, and Daire, who were seated.

  “I have Brita and a hundred and fifty Vatells waiting for me across the river,” Rowan said. “I have brought them here to marry with the Irials. Brita agrees to marry her tribe to the Irials but only on the condition that she marry the king.”

  Cilean’s eyes opened wide as she looked at Jura, who was studying her hands in her lap.

  Daire was on his feet instantly. “I will take Jura. I will rule the Vatells and she will be my queen.”

  Jura smiled at him gratefully.

  Rowan put himself between the two of them and looked Daire in the eyes. “I will not marry Brita. I will not set aside Jura.” His brows drew together. “Jura is no longer a maiden and I will not discard her.”

  Daire sat down on a stool near Cilean and he looked despondent.

  Rowan walked away. “I think I can put Brita off until some of the marriages take place, then I will take her to Brocain and he can marry her.”

  “You want to marry my mother to that brutal, scarred old man?” Daire shot at Rowan.

  Cilean put her hand on Daire’s arm. “Brocain has a wife. She was twelve last year. He won’t give up his child for a woman of Brita’s years.” She thought for a moment. “But Yaine has no wife,” she said, referring to the leader of the Fearens.

  “He must be lusty and very healthy to satisfy that woman,” Rowan said.

  “My mother is a queen,” Daire said. “You cannot order her to marry one of those Fearen runts.”

  “Your mother ordered Jura’s death,” Rowan said, then his jaw tightened as he saw the fury in Daire’s face. He turned away. “I am taking Brita to this Fearen leader and I need help.”

  Jura looked up at this. Was this the same man who rode into Vatell country alone?

  “I am going to have to take her by force, but I must make it look as if she is willing to go. I cannot start a war because of this woman. She has strength and that strength must be diluted.”

  “She might unite with Yaine against the Irials,” Cilean said.

  “But I hope to have the Irials and Vatells mixed at that point,” Rowan said tiredly. “She may well have a much smaller army to lead by then. She has come with her guard, and I hope some of the Irial trainee guardswomen will marry them. A man will think twice before angering his wife—as I well know.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Daire, I want you and Cilean to go with Jura and me as I take Brita into Fearen land.”

  Cilean looked at Jura. “You want two women with you?” Cilean asked.

  “Daire and I need our backs protected,” he snapped, then his head came up.

  Cilean smiled at him. “Yes, I understand. I will go with you, but will Yaine accept us? Or do we wear disguises?”

  “I plan to send a messenger, a Poilen or Ulten. I will tell Yaine that I bring him a royal bride.”

  Before anyone could speak, the door burst open and in ran Lora, looking beautiful in a robe of deep garnet-red velvet, her fair hair hanging down her back. “Rowan,” she cried, and ran to him to put her arms about his neck. “I was so worried about you. Montgomery said you had gone for a love tryst but I knew that wasn’t so. What have you done? Are you hurt?”

  Rowan was smiling tenderly at her as he smoothed her hair back and kissed her cheek. “I went into Vatell territory and I have brought back Brita and her people to marry the Irials. You shouldn’t have worried so.”

  “But I did. You had to do something like that alone with no one to help you and you had the added burden of a woman to protect.”

  Jura came out of her seat at that, but Rowan spoke first.

  “Jura was no hindrance,” he said, and hugged Lora to him as he looked over her shoulder at Jura. “She even helped me at times.”

  “Uncle Rowan?”

  Everyone in the room turned to look at a sleepy Phillip, dressed in his long white gown and nightcap, standing in the doorway and rubbing his eyes. “You are home,” the boy said.

  Rowan released his sister and knelt to open his arms to his nephew.

  Phillip started toward his uncle, but when he saw Jura sitting to one side, he smiled and went to her. She picked up the boy and cradled him in her arms. He smiled and fell asleep.

  “Of all the—” Lora began, but Rowan stopped her.

  “Let him be,” Rowan said. “I for one would like to go to bed. We shall make plans in the morning.” He started to take his nephew from Jura but she held the