Her Irish Warrior by Michelle Willingham (best novels of all time .txt) 📕

Longford chose his words carefully. ‘I am honoured by Your Majesty’s interest.’

He stood before Bevan and Sir Hugh, his expression impenetrable. ‘I understand my daughter was taken from Rionallís?’

Bevan perceived that somehow his question was a test. ‘Tá, I helped her escape.’ He met the Earl’s accusation with his own silent message of contempt. ‘After I found her bruised and beaten. She awaits you at my brother’s fortress, Laochre.’

Bevan sent a look towards Marstowe and caught the flash of anger in the man’s eyes.

‘And do you think my daughter would consent to wedding a man such as yourself?’ The Earl’s tone made it clear that he would not offer his own support to a match between them.

‘Given the alternative, I have no doubt she would.’ Bevan made no effort to hide his insult to Marstowe. He remembered all too well Genevieve’s slender body suffering beneath Marstowe’s fists.

‘I disagree,’ Sir Hugh said. ‘I understand you lost your first wife because you could not keep her guarded. The same might happen to Genevieve,’ he remarked. ‘She does seem to run off whenever the mood strikes her.’

High King or not, Bevan wanted to kill the man with his bare hands. Before he could reach Marstowe, soldiers held him back.

‘Enough of this arguing,’ Longford said, his voice deadly. ‘No decision will be made until I have seen my daughter.’

The soldiers restrained Bevan until the Earl had passed. At last, with a nod from Rory Ó Connor, they let him go.

The High King exchanged glances with the Norman King. ‘Bevan, you must understand that by agreeing to let the lady choose, you forfeit all land rights to her. Should she wed Sir Hugh, you will have no further claim upon Rionallís.’

Bevan did not concern himself with the warning. His only thought was to reach Genevieve before Marstowe did.

Chapter Ten

T homas de Renalt, the Earl of Longford, observed the Irish warrior. Bevan MacEgan was intent upon returning to Genevieve, and he rode like a man possessed. There was urgency in his every move, and all of his energies were directed towards reaching Genevieve.

Not the behaviour of a man only interested in land.

MacEgan was a puzzle, Longford thought to himself. This new alliance offered an intriguing possibility. He had never liked the betrothal between Genevieve and Sir Hugh, but because the King had initiated the arrangement, it had been difficult to break. Now he had the means, and he intended to see it severed before nightfall.

Longford knew he was soft-hearted when it came to Genevieve. As his only daughter, she held a unique place in his heart. She asked for little and it pleased him to grant her desires. When she had begged to wed Sir Hugh, his instincts had warned him against the match. He would have refused, despite her pleas, had it not been for King Henry’s desire to reward the young knight with an ambitious marriage.

Though the Irishman had accused Sir Hugh of harming Genevieve, he already knew the truth. Genevieve’s own words had proclaimed the knight’s guilt, and the Earl would not allow Marstowe near his daughter again.

Yet he did not know whether he could trust MacEgan.

It was already the second day of their journey south, and the late afternoon sun had begun to descend. The two men rode hard, sweat glistening upon the flanks of their destriers. The wind slashed at their faces, bitterly cold, but neither MacEgan nor Sir Hugh showed any interest in breaking camp. The Earl remained behind them, and at one interval he caught a fragment of their conversation.

‘Genevieve belongs to me. Your foolish idea of letting her choose means nothing. Her father will never allow her to wed an Irish barbarian over a Norman,’ Sir Hugh said.

‘You fear he will learn the truth,’ MacEgan predicted. ‘And which of us is the true barbarian.’

At that, Longford urged his horse forward to ride between the men. ‘When do we arrive at Laochre?’

‘By nightfall,’ Bevan predicted.

‘And how can you be sure she is well and unharmed?’

When the Irishman did not respond, Longford pressed further. ‘If what they say is true, you could not keep your own wife safe.’

‘If what Genevieve says is true, you could not answer her pleas for help when she begged for it,’ MacEgan retorted. ‘Or do all Normans find it necessary to beat their women into submission?’ His posture grew rigid. ‘We value our women here.’

MacEgan’s rejoinder confirmed what Longford had already suspected. Though he recognised the Irishman’s intense prejudice against Normans, he felt certain MacEgan would never raise a hand against his daughter in rage.

Which was more than he could say for Sir Hugh.

‘Sir Hugh, I would speak to you alone,’ Longford said, moving his horse to the side. The knight followed, his expression wary. Longford waited until the others had passed far ahead of them. ‘What say you to MacEgan’s accusations?’

‘I would hope that a man of your stature would not stoop to believe the lies of an Irishman,’ Sir Hugh said calmly. ‘We both know he will stop at nothing to control the land that was once his. We owe it to Genevieve to protect her from this man.’

The Earl made no comment, but he could see Sir Hugh’s face beginning to perspire. ‘I spoke with some of the soldiers I sent to escort Genevieve. Can you guess what they told me about your treatment of her?’

Marstowe blanched. ‘I would guard Genevieve with my life, my lord. She is a highborn lady with a strong spirit.’

‘So strong you found it necessary to tame her? You are not her husband yet, Hugh.’

‘A betrothal is nearly the same as a marriage.’

‘But I am still her father. And my authority supercedes yours before she is wed.’He paused, watching Sir Hugh fumble for another excuse. Before the knight could argue again, Longford drew his horse to a halt. ‘I asked to speak with you in private so as not to draw shame upon you before the others. You will