Free Wild Angel by Miriam Minger Page A

slipped out from under her silken restraint
before he could catch her, but to his surprise she fled into the lamp-lit
dwelling-house instead of heading for the gate. Holding his stomach, he
followed as she ran to her apartment and furiously slammed the door behind her.
He listened for a brief instant and, swearing that he heard muffled sobbing,
was stunned by how quickly his hand moved to the latch.
    "May I go to her?" Aud, accompanied by one of
his clansmen, was hurrying to the door.
    Ronan spun, startled.
    "She left the hall in such a rush I thought I
should follow her, Lord," the older man began in explanation, gesturing to
Aud.
    "It’s all right, Sean. She may enter but lock the
door behind her."
    Feeling Aud’s anger, Ronan passed by her without
another word. Yet his own anger that a servant would dare to censure his
actions was soon overshadowed by keen regret that she’d come at all. A regret
that sent him striding tight-lipped for the hall, more determined than ever
that his recalcitrant charge would be tamed, wedded and gone from Glenmalure
before the next waning moon.

     
    ***

     
    "It’s been three days, Ronan. Are you truly going
to leave her locked in there for a full week?"
    Ronan gave his brother a hard look as he dismounted. "I’d
wager if we had returned yesterday, you’d have said the same thing and then it
would only have been two days. And likewise my answer would have been the same.
Triona needs firm discipline. She stays."
    "Then don’t be surprised if she’s twice the
handful when you finally let her out." Niall slid off his horse, his
expression exasperated as he tossed the reins to a waiting servant. "To my
mind, you’re being too damned uncompromising."
    "Very well, then," Ronan said tightly,
wheeling halfway to the stable door. "Since I can sense you’re most
anxious to tell me. How should I be treating her?"
    "Not like a stern taskmaster determined to break a
young mare! Since Triona came to Glenmalure, if you’re not ordering her about
or making threats, you’re humiliating her at every turn. That stunt the other
night when you made her look like a stubborn filly at
the end of a halter, tweaking her to get her to go—"
    "She would have run for the doors if I hadn’t
controlled her," Ronan cut him off, waving from
the stable the last of the clansmen who’d accompanied them on their raid. In
truth, he regretted his callous behavior, but he didn’t need his younger
brother, Tanist or no, berating him in front of his men. Only when the servants
had led their lathered horses away, leaving him and Niall alone, did Ronan
demand, "Since when have you become Triona’s champion?"
    "I think you can guess, brother. Since she first
stood up to you—"
    "And I told you I’ve no interest in taking her to
wife!"
    To Ronan’s irritation, his vehement outburst was
greeted by a grin, Niall spreading out his hands.
    "Who said anything again about a wife? All I’m
saying is that you might do better trying another tack with Triona than forcing
her to obey you. You want her to act the proper maiden, Ronan, but how can she
when you don’t treat her like one? You certainly haven’t given her any
encouragement that it’s something she might even want to try."
    "I treated her well enough that first night—until
the chit purposely shrieked in my ear."
    Niall shook his head, clearly unconvinced.
    "No? Then what’s your estimation of my conduct?"
    "You were brusque with her and inhospitable, and
that’s the mildest of judgments. Yet things could have gone differently,
brother. Mayhap if you’d appealed more to her feminine nature, she might not
have been so inclined to defy you."
    "Feminine nature?" Ronan muttered,
remembering Triona’s well-aimed blow to his stomach. "Other than some
tears, I’ve seen little evidence of that."
    "Mayhap, but all women love compliments. You know
how it pleases Maire when you praise her embroidery. Did you think to praise
Triona’s gown? Her hair? The beauty of her