Surrender to an Irish Warrior by Michelle Willingham Page A

the eyes of an invader, looking for flaws. From their elevated vantage point, he could see inside the fortress. Three circular outer walls formed multiple layers of defence, with deep gullies between each fosse. The interior longhouses were arranged in quadrants, each set of dwellings forming a square. Most rested on raised platforms to avoid flooding.
    At a closer look, Trahern saw at least a dozen men stationed at all points around the outer palisade. It would not be easy to infiltrate.
    But then, they wouldn’t have to. Gunnar had invited them here, presumably to join the survivors. Trahern’s suspicions sharpened. He’d promised himself that if any dangerthreatened Morren, he’d send her back to the abbey without hesitation.
    He brought his horse alongside hers. ‘Are you ready?’
    â€˜I am.’ Upon her face, he saw a renewed willpower. Though she still hadn’t fully recovered, Morren looked ready to do battle on behalf of her sister.
    Before she could ride forward, Trahern rested his hand upon her horse. ‘Stay close to me. I don’t want you endangering yourself. If you see one of the raiders, tell me. I’ll take care of him.’
    He shielded her as he took the lead, riding inside. Though it was brutally cold, he was numb to the elements. Vengeance warmed his blood as he thought of the men who had murdered Ciara and violated Morren. They would answer for their crimes with their lives.
    When they reached the first outer wall, armed men held their spears aloft in a silent threat. Trahern met their guarded gazes with his own. But when they spied Morren, there was hesitation in their stance.
    He stopped at the first gate, knowing that word would spread of their arrival. He kept his hand firmly upon his sword, waiting quietly. The enemy guards never broke eye contact, and neither did he.
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    Nearly a quarter of an hour passed before he spied Gunnar striding towards them. The Viking kept one hand upon his sword, seemingly unconcerned that he was on foot while Trahern and Morren had the advantage of being on horseback.
    â€˜I see you decided to join us,’ he greeted them. With a glance at Morren, he added, ‘Your sister awaits you within my brother’s house.’
    Morren’s mouth tightened in a line, as though she wanted to run Gunnar through with a weapon of her own. ‘I want to see Jilleen now.’
    â€˜Follow me,’ Gunnar bade them. He gestured to two older boys, ordering them to come and take the horses.
    Trahern dismounted and reached over to help Morren down. He didn’t keep his hands at her waist any longer than was necessary, and Morren’s face showed relief when he released her from his touch.
    She kept his cloak tightly wrapped around her, as though she could shut out all the bad memories. Not once did she look at him.
    Trahern didn’t like seeing any woman retreat inside herself this way, and it renewed his anger. He remained beside Morren, ignoring the silent stares of those they passed. No one else spoke to them, and tension coloured their arrival.
    â€˜Morren.’ A young man approached, nodding his head in greeting. It was one of the Ó Reillys, Trahern guessed.
    Morren started at his voice, her face flooding with embarrassment. She kept her gaze averted, as though afraid of what else he might say to her.
    Trahern led her away, following Gunnar deeper into the longphort . Other clan members spoke to Morren as she passed, and most appeared surprised to see her. Did they know what had happened to her on the night of the attack? It didn’t seem so.
    Trahern planned to speak with the survivors in private, to determine why they had come to dwell among the Vikings. The lack of fear or anxiety among the people was startling. They behaved as though they were among family and friends, not the enemy.
    He couldn’t understand it. Distrust curled up inside him, and he stared at the Ó Reillys, wondering what had led