Donna Fletcher - Irish Hope,
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Irish Hope
Irish Eyes Book 02
Donna Fletcher
Prologue
"Hold still, Lady
Gwenth," Hope ordered the large, impatient dog. "You must have a disguise if you
are to accompany me on this adventure. Everyone will be looking for a young woman with a large dog of
regal bearing. This white mark on your forehead and your lazy manner will dissuade them."
Hope finished her task and planted a generous kiss on the dog's snout. "And, my dear, you shall
answer simply to 'Lady' from this moment on. Understand, Lady?"
The big dog eyed her critically and turned her nose up in the air to retreat to her cushioned bedding
near the window.
Hope followed her, squatting unladylike down beside her. "Please, Lady Gwenth, I cannot leave you
behind, and I know you are accustomed to being pampered, but this is only for a few weeks. I cannot
enter into an arranged marriage without experiencing life."
Lady Gwenth sighed and closed her eyes as if not at all interested in her mistress's dilemma.
"You must understand," Hope went on. "Uncle Shamus has arranged a marriage for me befitting my
ancestry to the high king of Ireland, but I wish to know the true Ireland. The people who make this land
flourish, whose blood has been spilled to keep it free and whose hands toil daily. I want to walk the
green fields and meadows, climb the hills, drink from the rivers and talk with the people. And—"
She paused, a generous smile spreading across her pretty round face, and her arms wrapping
around herself in a loving hug. "—maybe meet my true love."
Lady Gwenth voiced her objections with a heavy sigh.
Hope lifted a large floppy ear to whisper. "Do you not wish to find a special mate?"
The dog grumbled her response.
Hope hugged her own slim waist. "I dream of finding a man. An ordinary man who wishes to love as
deeply and strongly as I do. Foolish dreams, I suppose."
Lady Gwenth agreed with a loud yawn.
Hope stood. "I must do this, Lady Gwenth, or else I will forever regret not taking the chance."
Hope hurried over to the large bed, slipped out of her night shift and continued speaking to the large
dog who kept one eye focused on her. "I snatched these garments from the stable lad. I did, of course,
leave him sufficient coins to cover his loss, but I required a good disguise for our trip. And since I barely
stand three inches over five feet—" She paused and glanced with disappointment down at her small
breasts. "And possess a body that barely resembles a female, it was a simple decision to choose a young
lad's disguise. And besides, who would think me audacious enough to attempt such an outrageous feat?
All who know me describe me as the perfect young lady, which makes me perfectly boring and perfectly
predictable."
Lady Gwenth opened her eyes to watch as Hope pulled on dark stockings over petite, slender legs.
"If the remainder of my life is to be boring then I must fill it with a bit of adventure and store the lasting
memories so that I may recall and savor them in my old age."
Lady Gwenth yawned and dropped her head to rest on her cushion, though her big, brown,
concerned eyes remained fixed on Hope.
A worn brown linen tunic covered the stockings to her knees. "Perhaps I am being foolish, and
yet..." Hope sighed and shook her head. "Yet I feel this need to explore, search and find..." Another
shake of her head and another sigh. "Life is out there, Lady, I feel it as sure as I feel the cool night air
rush across my warm skin. It reaches out to me, urges me, and I must go."
Hope lowered herself to kneel beside Lady. She cupped the dog's large face in her small hands, the
heavy jowls hanging off her palms. "I must have my adventure no matter how foolish my dream."
Hope stood and secured the loose tunic with a braided cloth belt. "Now all that is left for me to do is
to cut my hair."
Lady Gwenth raised her head.
Hope sighed and ran her fingers through the silky strands of her dark hair. It was her pride and joy,
hanging straight to her tiny waist. She combed it herself every night, keeping the rich brown color shiny,
and it pained her to reach for the sharp bladed knife on the bed. "I am afraid it is necessary for my
disguise."
Lady Gwenth whimpered.
"My hair will grow back," Hope said, though tears stained her eyes, and before she could give her
foolish actions serious thought, she grabbed hold of her long, straight hair and sliced a section off at her
shoulder.
Lady Gwenth whimpered loudly and dropped her head to her cushion.
"It is done," Hope said with a quiver to her soft voice. She finished the difficult task with quick,
steady strokes and when finally done she ran her slim fingers through the short strands. It felt strange with
her long tresses gone, but then she had made a choice, and she intended to do what was necessary.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and chewed at her nails while she cast tearful eyes around her
room. She had spent many happy years here. Uncle Shamus and Aunt Elizabeth had been good to her,
caring for her as their own after her parents' untimely death when she was barely eight. And the marriage
they had arranged for her was a worthy one, but a loveless one, and though she could not explain it even
to herself, she wanted to know love. Foolish dreams yet again, but what was there to life if one never
knew true love? She did not wish always to wonder whether it truly existed. She wished to experience its
passion and tenderness. Its pain and sorrow. Its joy. But most of all its simplicity, for only true love could
be that chaotic and yet so simple.
Her ancestry had afforded her a claim to a mighty heritage, and while she would not forsake her
duties, she wished, if only for a few weeks, to taste the wonders of life and perhaps the simplicity of love.
Then she would do as was expected of her. She would marry a stranger and bear him children.
But first she would have her adventure.
One
Colin eased away
from the eager mouth but not before squeezing the woman's bare, ample
backside. Another squeeze, a gentle kiss, and he was on his feet and slipping into his clothes.
"It is a rogue and charmer you are," the woman said with a teasing smile that made her pretty, full
face appear beautiful, and Colin did not waste the precious moment.
He leaned over and grabbed her chin with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver of desire racing
through her. "Nellie, only a beauty like you could thoroughly please a rogue and a charmer like me." He
kissed her then, roughly, before gentling his lips and stealing her breath along with her heart.
A disappointed sigh preceded her words. "Do you have to go?"
"As much as I would love to remain here with you, I have my duty to my lord."
She nodded knowingly and appeased her disappointment by watching him dress. Her dark eyes
lingered over every lean, hard line of him. He stood a good six feet tall, perhaps an inch or two over, and
though not broad and thick in size, he possessed a defined hardness to his muscles that large men lacked.
Taut muscles ran over his midriff and down his stomach, making one wonder whether, if he took a blow
to his middle, it would not be the fist that received the damage.
His long legs possessed that same defined muscular structure, and then there was his ... She giggled,
caressing his manhood with her eyes. It was large and thick, and oh so pleasing, and he knew
exactly
how to please a woman. He was a master of the craft. A charming rogue with good looks to match and a
golden tongue that could talk, tease or tempt any woman into sin. But then she was a sinner herself—and
there was always confession.
Nellie reluctantly left her warm, tousled bed, taking the memories with her. She dressed in haste,
dropping a loose-fitting gown made of soft green wool over her head and gathering it at the waist with a
thin leather belt. She donned a pair of worn sandals and walked over to Colin, who had finished dressing
in a dark red tunic, dark stockings and leather boots. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair,
smiled at her approach, then spread his arms wide.
Nellie ached with the want of him as his arms enfolded her and hugged her fiercely to him.
"It is good memories of you I will be taking with me, lass, and be ever grateful for them."
Nellie kissed him soundly and hurried out of his arms and toward the door. "It will be fresh bread
and cheese, enough for you and your men, that you will be taking with you, Colin."
Colin's expression turned serious. "I seek no compensation from you for our enjoyable time
together."
Nellie appreciated his words more than he would ever know, for she instinctively knew he spoke the
truth. "Aye, and I thank you for that, but I offer this to you as a friend."
Colin smiled and her heart skipped a beat. "Then I accept it as a friend, and thank you for your
generosity."
"If only ..." Nellie said with a sad smile.
"I have often thought the same myself," Colin said with his own bittersweet smile.
Nellie left with a shake of her head, and Colin saw to collecting the last of his belongings. He smiled
at the rumpled bed and the delightful memories. When he and his small band of men had stopped at this
single farmhouse early last evening, it was with the intention of requesting permission to camp on the land
for the night.
The widow Nellie had other ideas as to where Colin himself would bed down, and he naturally
made no objections. It had been over two weeks that he and his men had been away from home on a
mission for Eric of Shanekill.
Eric was more friend than lord and while many feared the Irish devil, a name earned by Eric, Colin
found him to be a man possessed of an enduring courage and a man true to his word. He was also a man
deeply in love with his wife, Faith, who was presently growing heavy with his child. Which was why Colin
was on this mission instead of Eric. He simply refused to leave Faith's side.
Colin could not blame him. Faith had a way of doing exactly as she pleased no matter how many
times Eric ordered her otherwise. And Eric intended to see that his wife did not do her own digging or
planting in her herb garden, and that she did not tire herself by tending to too many ailing villagers, though
that was a difficult task in itself. Faith was a healer and all at Shanekill Keep sought her skill. And it was
with a tender touch and caring heart that she dealt with everyone.
If truth be told, Colin would have to admit that he envied Eric and the true love he and his wife
shared. He had thought to find such a deep, binding love one day, but fate had other plans and while he
sincerely cared for the many women he bedded, he loved none. And his worst fear was that he was not
capable of truly loving any woman.
He discarded the troublesome thought with a shrug and headed out the door. He had a mission and
so far it had not been very successful. His men greeted him with grumbles and complaints when he
stepped out of the cottage into the bright early sun.
Spring was near on top of them; the clear blue sky, rich green hills and the riotous bloom of
wildflowers announced its arrival. The delightful weather was precisely why the men were grumbling. The
nine men were part of Eric's elite warriors and they had fought enough battles and slept on enough hard
grounds to last them a lifetime. When Eric was granted land and a wife by the kings of Ireland he gave his
warriors a choice of joining him in settling down and creating new life. They all jumped at the opportunity.
Some of the men had new wives, barely wed a month, and two or three had wives who were carrying
babes.
Colin knew that his night with the widow Nellie had them all thinking of their own wives and
comfortable beds.
"We are near to Limerick," he announced with a broad smile, though it was not returned. "Word has
it that a young woman with a large dog is traveling that way. If she is not the woman we search for we
will return home to Shanekill Keep and seek further instructions."
A resounding cheer split the morning air.
"I say we deliver the troublesome baggage to Lord Eric tied up tightly so she cannot run from her
duties again," Patrick said, swinging up onto his horse.
He was one who was recently wed, an understandable reason for his urgent desire to return home,
and one Colin could not fault.
"Seems like the lass might fear her marital duties," Daniel said with a smirk.
"Bah," John said, sitting straight on his horse, his large beefy hands light on the reins. "She is a
spoiled young lass who needs a firm hand."
"Like the firm hand you take with Maggie?" Daniel asked with a laugh.
John grinned, "It is a firm hand my Maggie likes."
The men continued their teasing with more suggestions of how the missing lass should be treated as
they turned their horses away from the small cottage.
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