The Irish Bride Read Online Free Page B

princess. Next to her had sat her
new husband, and Farrell had stood beside the road, staring in awe
at the fabulous spectacle.
    Of course, there had been no wedding
gown for Farrell. She had changed from the torn uniform into her
own dress, the only one she owned. Aidan wasn’t even the man she’d
expected to marry. Liam should have been beside her. Over the
miles, she had come to realize that his talk of fair-weather love
had been only a ruse to make her leave so that she’d be safe. He’d
sacrificed his own happiness to protect her.
    Fate had given her no choice though,
if she would protect those same neighbors and family. And she must
because they were just as innocent as she. To shield them, she’d
had to take Aidan for her bridegroom, not the sturdily built,
sparely worded Liam with his gentle voice, kind smile, and soothing
ways.
    Liam . . . she
loved him. Not with the silly, giddy passion other girls talked of.
Her love for Liam O’Rourke was like the man himself—quiet, steady,
and as dependable as the morning. Her childhood spent with a lazy
drunkard of a father had made her seek a man with Liam’s qualities.
He was everything that Gael Kirwan had not been, and she’d been
drawn to him because of that and his noble spirit.
    Farrell had been betrothed to him when
she turned twenty and in the past two years he’d exhibited no
behavior that made her feel silly or giddy. She didn’t even know
for sure what other girls meant when they giggled about hot-blooded
men with even hotter hands, but it concerned her that they’d often
been speaking of Aidan.
    She swallowed hard and clenched her
hands in her damp skirt, wondering dizzily how she’d landed in this
awful fix.
    Oh, Aidan knew all about women, of
that she was certain. It had been whispered over the years that
Father Joseph talked to him more than once about his fast ways with
the lasses. Farrell couldn’t deny that he was handsome—he turned
women’s heads wherever he went, even in church.
    She cast a sidelong glance at him. He
towered over her. Long-legged and broad across the shoulders, he
was much more intense than his brother. He had a fine, straight
nose and a firm chin, and large eyes that seemed to cut right
through a person to look into their heart and soul. Despite the
circumstances and the solemnity of the night, a combination of
maleness, passion, and vital spirit had pulsed from him in waves
that vibrated through her on a primitive level she did not
recognize.
    But what she remembered most was one
question Father Joseph had asked her.
    “ Farrell Kirwan, do ye
promise to love, honor, and obey Aidan O’Rourke as your
husband?”
    Honor
    Obey
    A husband could force a woman to do
these things. He could demand that his meals be served at a certain
time, that she defer to him in all matters, even that she submit to
him in his bed. And Aidan, iron-willed and fervent, very well might
expect all of these and more.
    She’d glanced around for Liam, hoping
that he would step in at the last moment and stop this ceremony.
But he’d merely looked on and nodded at her.
    Returning her gaze to Father Joseph,
she’d opened her mouth but no sound came. Finally, she’d whispered,
“Yes, I promise,” her voice muffled by bewilderment.
    There had been no point in
refusing.
    But Aidan couldn’t force her to love
him. The human heart did not yield to such pressure.
    “ Then, Aidan, give your wife
the kiss of peace.”
    Turning to her, his dark blue eyes had
gleamed in the firelight, reminding Farrell of a cat’s. His lips
had barely brushed hers, but their heat startled her. The same
feeling she’d had earlier, that Aidan saw her as his own, now and
always, rushed over her again.
    He was accustomed to having his way
when he could get it, she knew. And he wasn’t likely to take “no”
for an answer from anyone without a fight, especially from his
wife.
    Farrell did not think of herself as a
cowardly woman. With hunger and oppression constant