MAGGIE MCBRIDE

Barefoot and trembling from the cold, I continued to run, forcing my feet to move through the dirt. My nightdress was soaked right through, the downpour of rain assured that. I knew my feet were bleeding, toes cut from the sharp rocks beneath me, but I refused to give in.

‘Where is he, Maggie?’ he demanded, closing in on me. ‘Tell me where Donal is!’

‘Leave me be!’ I wailed, running as fast as my legs could carry me through the woods. ‘Go away, Daniel!’

The faces of the dead were fresh in my mind; the half-starved children, the sounds of weeping mothers, the fallen fathers and sons, brothers and husbands.

Boys younger than ten forced to take up arms to protect their families and homes.

Their bodies scattered around the country.

‘Murderers,’ I cried out brokenly. ‘The lot of ye!’

‘I’m trying to help you,’ he called out, but his words and the sound of his impending footsteps crunching behind me gave me no comfort. ‘Don’t run from me.’

‘If you strike at, imprison, or kill us, out of our prisons or graves we will still evoke a spirit that will thwart you, and perhaps, raise a force that will destroy you,’ I began to chant Connolly’s words, breathless and terrified. ‘We defy you,’ I added, strengthening my resolve as I strangled out the words. Leveling him with a cold gaze, I spat, ‘Do your worst!’

‘Maggie–’

‘You’ve come to ruin us!’ I screamed, backing away from the giant of a man walking towards me. ‘To take our homes from us.’

My back hit the trunk of a tree and I sagged in defeat, cornered and prepared for death. Sinking to the damp ground, I exhaled an exhausted sigh. ‘Kill me now, Officer Daniel, because I will never give my brother up!’

‘I don’t want to do this,’ Daniel growled, voice laced with pain, as he stalked me like a predator would his prey. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘You’ve already killed me!’ I screamed, tears dripping down my cheeks. ‘My father was dragged from his bed by your men. They shot him, Daniel. On your orders. Tied him to the post out back and shot him dead while my mother and sisters watched!’

‘Not my orders,’ he growled. ‘I didn’t want that to happen!’

‘Liar!’ Broken hearted, I began to pray to myself, for my family, for my people that would never be free.

‘I am not going to hurt you,’ he repeated, marching towards me in the colors I so dearly despised. ‘You have nothing to fear from me.’

‘You lied to me,’ I snapped, heart palpitating as I studied this strange English man. A man like none of the others.

Fear spiraled inside of my body as I watched him take a knee in front of me. His eyes, those bright green eyes, burned holes in my resolve. Yellow hair that shone like the stars.

So different.

So strange.

My gaze flickered between his face and the rifle clasped in his large hands, and a different kind of fear blossomed inside of me.

‘You betrayed me!’

‘And you betrayed me,’ he replied in his lyrical tone, so different to my own people.

With wide eyes, I watched him slowly place his rifle on the grass at my feet.

Leaning back on his haunches, he slowly raised his hands in front of his chest, a sign of peace, and whispered, ‘You lied to me, too, sweet Maggie.’

Pain.

It was everywhere.

‘You lied about who you are.’ He swallowed deeply, pain flickering in his eyes. ‘You lied about the family you come from.’

‘You killed my father!’ I snarled, heart hammering so hard against my ribcage, I felt I would die. ‘You want to kill my brother.’

‘Your brother is a traitor to the crown,’ he countered, tone calm, eyes locked on my face.

‘Your crown,’ I sneered, digging my bare feet into the grass beneath me as I lunged for the rifle at my feet.

I got there first, and in truth, I was sure he let me take it from him.

‘Your crown,’ I repeated, chest heaving. ‘Not mine.’ With trembling hands, I pressed my back to the tree and aimed the rifle straight at his heart. ‘Never mine.’

‘Are you going to shoot me, Maggie McBride?’ he asked in a voice so soft I was thrown off kilter. His green eyes were filled with heat and…reluctant acceptance.

‘You won’t leave if I don’t,’ I hissed, trembling from head to toe, ‘Officer Daniel.’

‘No,’ he agreed gently. Kneeling before me, he placed his hands on his thighs. With his back as straight as a poker, he inclined his head towards the heavy rifle in my hands and whispered, ‘I won’t.’

Falling onto my own knees, I scrambled closer until the barrel of the rifle pressed into his flesh.

‘My father and three of my brothers are gone,’ I hissed, drowning in my pain. ‘Ye killed them all. They’re all in the ground, Daniel. Because of you. Because of what you represent to us. My people are starving to death. The crops are gone. Everything is gone. Because of your crown.’

‘Maggie…’

‘My mother wept at your officers’ feet. She begged them for his life. And do you know what they did to her? They spat in her face. Held her up and forced her to watch, to see what they did to my father, and you want me to give my brother up? My last living brother!’

‘You don’t want to kill me, sweet Maggie,’ he whispered, gazing back at me with a look of warmth and pain.

Time stood still, as I battled with duty and heart.

Unblinking, we both knelt in front of each other, with only a rifle between us.

A rifle that had shed the blood of my people.

A man who had taken the lives of my people.

A man who had stolen my heart.

My body shook, resolve weakened, as I stared back at him. ‘You’re one of them.’ My chest rose hard and fast, my breath coming in short, quick gasps. ‘You’re my enemy.’

‘And you’re mine,’ he replied, pressing his chest into the muzzle of the gun. Achingly slowly, he reached up and covered my hands with his large ones. ‘But I love you like a man loves his wife.’

‘Your people won’t leave,’ I breathed, feeling my upper hand slip away, as he gently took the gun from my grasp. ‘They won’t stop.’

‘No.’ With sad eyes, he tossed the gun to one side and closed the space between us. ‘They won’t.’

His hands came around my body, touching me in ways only he had before. With his blood-soaked hands, he tugged my hips, causing me to fall forward – and into his arms. ‘I won’t.’

‘I hate what you are,’ I hissed out, hating myself with every ounce of my being, as I tightened my fingers in his traitor jacket. ‘I hate every one of you!’

‘No, sweet Maggie, you don’t hate me,’ he soothed, dropping his brow to mine.

‘I should,’ I bit back, trembling as he trailed his large, calloused hands up and down the length of my bare arms.

‘Perhaps, but you don’t,’ he whispered, his breath hot and welcome as it warmed my cold cheek.

I knew God would strike me dead for my betrayal, but the words came out all the same, ‘No.’ Clinging to my enemy, I dragged his body down on mine. ‘I don’t.’

His lips touched the curve of my neck, and my legs shook violently.

‘Be mine, Maggie McBride,’ he coaxed, as his lips trailed up my neck to my jaw, stopping to hover over my mouth. ‘Be mine, sweet Maggie.’

Unable to breathe, I stared straight into his eyes, as the aching inside of me threatened to burst.

Releasing a gasping breath, I pressed my lips to his, allowing my body to answer the questions my voice and pride would never allow me to.

Tucked away in the hills of the Ó Donovan farm, I knew we wouldn’t be found by his comrades or my people.

Allowing myself one small moment of reprieve from the horror around me, I lay on my back on the damp grass and put up no fight or battle when the Englishman undressed me, revealing flesh and bone that had been seen by no Irish man before him.

‘You are beautiful, sweet Maggie,’ he whispered, kneeling between my legs.

Wide eyed, I stared at the scars littered across his bare chest as he rid his flesh of the horrid uniform I despised. There were more than I could count, and still, it was the most magnificent naked male form I had ever laid eyes on.

He was broad and muscular, with two brown nipples accompanied by a flat stomach filled with deep groves and ridges.

His flesh was beautiful and golden from the sun he’d seen on his travels. A trail of hair beneath his bellybutton leading to his…

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered when I reached for him, but quickly thought better of it – the fear of god inside of me as the thoughts I had of this man caused a blossoming deep inside of my womb.

Startled by the painful and unfamiliar need growing inside of me, I covered my naked breasts and scrambled onto my knees.

Confused and frightened, I debated making a run for it, but quickly realized that I only wanted to run to him.

My traitorous heart skipped a beat.

What was I doing?

I would go to hell for this.

I would be disowned.

For being with a man.

For being with a British solider.

Kneeling before me, he cupped my face with his large hands and forced me to look at him. ‘I’m yours, sweet Maggie,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever I have, it’s yours.’

Taking one of my hands in his, he gently pressed it to his stomach, green eyes never leaving mine.

When he removed his hand from mine, I continued to touch him, feeling the hardness of his stomach beneath my hand, feeling the way his muscles contracted beneath my touch.

‘See,’ he whispered, when I placed both of my hands on his chest, curious and fascinated. ‘We’re the same.’

I shook my head.

We were not the same.

He was one of them.

And still, I continued to touch him.

I continued to yearn for him.

Conflicted and consumed in my lust, I scooted closer to him, unsure but willing.

‘Are you mine, sweet Maggie?’ he asked, voice low and gruff, as he placed his hands on my naked hips.

My heart raced erratically in my chest as I searched for the answer.

Was I his?

I wasn’t.

I could never be.

And yet…

My lips crashed against his of their own accord, my heart making a choice that my head would never make.

I allowed myself to get caught up in the feeling of freedom he was offering me.

I allowed myself to pretend that this foreign solider boy could love me forever.

His traitorous hands encompassed my body, making me feel things I knew were wrong.

Feelings a wife felt for her husband.

Feelings that should not be acted upon until a man was your husband.

And yet, I allowed this soldier to put his hands on me.

I enjoyed the feel of his mouth on my body, as he kissed me deeply, as he touched me in ways I would undoubtedly pay penance for.

When he pressed me onto my back once more, I let my legs fall open, and welcomed his body to settle between them.

I could feel him; powerful and terrifying.

He whispered soothing words of comfort and love in my ear as he covered my body with his.

With my hands, I encouraged him to take me to hell with him.

If I was to go, I would go only with him.

Breathing hard and fast, I cried out when his fingers slipped between my legs, touching me in ways no other had before.

His mouth on my breasts, his fingers inside my body, gentle and probing…it was more than I could take.

‘I love you, my sweet Maggie,’ he promised as he pushed himself inside of me, ripping through both my innocence and pride. ‘I’ll love you always.’

And to my deepest detriment, I believed him.

I believed the solider.

And just for a moment, I allowed myself to love only him in return.

In secret, of course.

He stretched me, claiming my body as his, and in return, I gladly gave myself over to him, blocking out all thoughts of tomorrow.

Blending my body with an English soldier.

Allowing him to fill me up with his seed.

This was ludicrous. But I couldn’t stop it and I didn’t want to.

He was deep inside of me, thrusting in and out, making me ache with need, soothing the burn with one kiss at a time.

He was big and terrifying, a murdering brute of a man, and still I allowed him to take over my body.

For a brief moment, I threw a prayer up to Saint Anthony to protect my soul.

As my body burned with fire, my soul descended into hell.

I had well and truly sold my soul to the devil and the consequence made me feel wonderful.

His big hands gripping at my flesh, pushing and pulling me in different directions. I went willingly, trusting in this soldier to keep me safe.

For a strange unknown reason, I knew he would.

Maybe he really did love me.

It wouldn’t matter in the end.

We were doomed.

I knew this.

And still, I let him sacrilege my body.

He was ferocious, unstoppable, as he continued to move inside of me, unyielding, and I welcomed him. I encouraged him to keep going.

He was making me feel better than I had ever felt in my life and I never wanted him to stop.

Frightened, I clung to his broad shoulders, as he moved harder, faster, deeper.

Unable to help it, I cried out loudly, begging him with prayers and words to keep doing what he was doing to me. It was unlike anything else.

When he was finished, I noticed the blood smeared down both my thighs and his.

He didn’t look angry about it, though.

Instead, he looked at me in wonder. ‘You’re mine now, sweet Maggie.’

‘I’ll never be yours,’ I told him sadly. ‘We’re on opposite sides.’