Free Black Falcon's Lady (Celtic Rogues Book 1) by Kimberly Cates Page B

abandoned tinker's child huddled in the "castle" he and Devin had built in a tree. Even Rachel's expert nursing had not been able to save the girl. But when she closed her eyes in eternal sleep, somehow Tade had known even in his childhood innocence that she had not died from the buffeting of chill winds off the ocean or the emptiness in her belly, but rather from too little love, given too late.
    Today, when Rachel and the little ones had poured out to greet Devin, Maryssa had stood in the shadows with the same look of haunting loneliness, so shy Tade had wanted to stroke soft roses into her cheeks, brush her lips with his own mouth, make her smile. But when Deirdre had flung open the bedchamber door and he had seen Maryssa framed against a backdrop of rumpled bedclothes, her body all but naked, golden with candle shine, he had wanted to tumble her back onto the pillows, take all of her, and give . . . give her things no other woman had touched inside him.
    The sounds of the children behind him intruded on the dreamlike sweetness playing in his mind. He shut his eyes, wanting to hold as long as he could the vision of tumbled dark hair streaming over coral-tipped breasts, of wide, searching eyes. But the picture was shattered as a hand clamped on his shoulder, spinning him around to face the rage-contorted countenance of his father.
    Tade gaped, stunned as his father’s hand arced toward him. Shock dulled Tade’s normally keen reflexes, making him too slow to escape the blow entirely. Pain shot through him as his father's hard palm glanced off his jaw. Pain that had nothing to do with the force of the buffet dealt him. He wheeled, fists raised, but Deirdre leaped in front of him, her eyes wide, tears of accusation flooding her cheeks as she glared at their father.
    "Da! How could you!”
    "No, Dee. I'll be fighting my own battles." Tade moved her out of his path, his eyes glinting as he fought the feeling of betrayal that cinched around his chest. An uncontrollable need to wound back flooded through him, his words as he turned to his father intended to cut as deeply as the lashes Tade had been dealt. "I'm a trifle too old to drag behind the cow byre, Da," he grated. "Or did it make you feel more a man? Ramming your fist into my face since you couldn't bloody Rath as you wanted?"
    “If I had any sense I'd thrash you till you couldn't move! Because of your idiocy the whole family could have been cast into Rookescommon prison. That little English wench—"
    "That 'little English wench' just saved our necks!" Tade snarled. "Rath must've suspected Devin was here before he rode in. If Maryssa hadn't distracted him, we'd all be trussed in chains right now, bound for a Sassenach gallows. And we'd be the lucky ones.”
    "Aye, luckier than the girl would be, by far," Kane shot back. "Did you consider for a moment what harm could befall her? No. You just threw her into the middle of disaster, and now you blow up with pride as though you're a fallen hero. Do you think I want the blood of another Wylder woman on my han—"
    Tade's head tilted in confusion, his eyes narrowing at the hint of bittersweet pain underlying his father's words.
    The muscles in Kane's face jerked tight, throwing the stark planes into sharp relief. A shutter fell over his eyes, driving away the sadness until it seemed only shadings of Tade's imagination.
    "Another? Who?”
    "Another person to suffer for your irresponsibility," his father blazed. "You're always right, no matter who you hurt! Run off at all hours to God knows where, playing catch-skirt with your rakehell friends, worry Rachel and your sister nearly to their graves, then whisk in as bold as you please, dragging an English chit behind you.”
    "Tell me. What galls you the most, Da?" Tade asked, with menacing quiet. "That she's English? Or that you owe your life to a Wylder?"
    "Damn you—"
    "Damn me? You're the one who holds fast to hell."
    "Aye, and you're the son who should be helping me battle out