Page 11 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)

D arlei’s father inspected her carefully, and seemed satisfied with what he saw. He had also dressed in his best and looked clear-eyed and merciless.

“Chief MacMurtray will wish to show off his holding today,” he informed Darlei as he ate his breakfast, also delivered to his chamber. “You would do well to act impressed.”

Flatter them, he meant, these trumped-up interlopers. Though Darlei supposed they could no longer be considered interlopers, after so many years on Scottish soil. Was that not the goal, in the ordering of these marriages? To make all one.

She nodded soberly. She could pretend to be impressed, though it would make her squirm inside.

“It is best for you to learn all you can about life here,” Father went on, “since this way of living will be your own.”

And was she never to return home? Back over the hills they had traveled and to the places she loved? Could she not serve a given sentence here before renouncing it all?

Nay, for there would be babes by then. Children. His children. She shuddered.

Father eyed her closely. No fool he—did he believe in her false calm?

“Daughter, tell me I can trust you.”

“Trust me?”

“To accept your fate and behave as you aught this day.”

Anger touched her, but she had her armor in place. “To be sure, Father.”

He appeared relieved. Then again, a measure of doubt still hovered in his eyes. “Come, we are to meet our hosts outside.”

Darlei had no objection to getting out in the air. A crisp autumn morning it proved to be, and as she exited the keep at Father’s side, trailed by Orle and Father’s guards, she did her best to take it all in.

Beyond the wall, which encircled the keep itself along with a narrow strip of grass nearly beaten into mud, lay the settlement.

A crowd of dwellings huddled like so many children up against the walls, as to a mother’s skirts, they seemed too numerous to count.

In one direction, hills rolled away to the distance, into infinity. Home. In the other direction…

The sea.

Darlei had never beheld the sea before yesterday, and then she’d been far too upset to appreciate the sight. Now her eyes feasted. A broad expanse, blue-gray beneath the pale morning sky, it drew her gaze and accelerated her heartbeat. If there were one thing here she might admire—

“King Caerdoc. Princess Darlei.” Chief MacMurtray walked toward them, a fatuous smile on his face. With a sinking heart, Darlei saw Rohr at his shoulder.

“Good morning,” Father said.

Murtray bowed. “I trust ye spent a comfortable night.”

“We had all we required.”

“I am that glad to hear it.”

Struck by the falseness of this speech, Darlei eyed these two men who, in days gone by, might well have met on the battlefield while doing their best to kill one another.

Now they made stilted, hollow conversation. It was all hollow here, empty. Was that what bothered her so about it?

“We will be pleased to show ye the settlement today. But first, Princess Darlei”—Murtray turned to her and bowed again—“Rohr would like to take ye to make the acquaintance o’ his mother.”

“Ah,” said Father before Darlei could speak. “Darlei would be most honored.”

The mother was ill, Darlei recalled hearing last night. Too ill to leave her bed. She inclined her head at Rohr, who stepped forward.

“This way, mistress.” He offered her his arm.

Did he not mean to address her as princess , then? For even if she became a member of this clan perforce, she would always remain that. Caledonian royalty to her bones.

That kept her head high and her feet steady as they stepped back into the keep.

“My mother is most anxious to meet ye,” Rohr said as they went. He was a good bit taller than she, and the muscles of his arm felt like iron beneath her hand. “She is pleased to ha’ another daughter.”

“Ah. You have a sister, then?”

“Aye, older than me. She is wed and has been gone from us for some time.”

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“Just my younger brother, Deathan.”

“And if I may ask, what is the nature of your mother’s illness?”

Rohr hesitated. “She was never particularly strong. Of late she suffers from pains in the joints that make it difficult for her to move.”

Darlei stole a glance into his face. Shut down tight. But she caught the merest hint of a smile when he added, “Though she is shut awa’ in her chamber, unable to rise, she is very much still the center o’ life here at Murtray.”

Darlei nodded. They had come to a broad door where Rohr hesitated again. Then he lifted the latch and swung the panel open.

A bright room, much better lit than the one Darlei had been given, with two windows and colorful furnishings. It was as if someone had determined to make the chamber as cheerful as possible for its occupant.

A woman—no doubt a servant—bustled around busily and turned her head to smile at them when they entered. In addition to the servant and the woman who lay in the bed, the room was occupied by a young man.

With a stab of surprise, Darlei recognized him as the man who’d been sitting directly across from her in the hall last night. Now he occupied a chair close beside the bed, his hand extended onto the counterpane. What was he doing here?

Even as he glanced up, her mind put it together. Was he the brother of whom Rohr had spoken? What was his name? Deathan.

Before she could decide for sure, he got to his feet.

“My brother, Deathan,” Rohr said.

And the young man inclined his head at her. “Princess Darlei.”

She nodded back, her gaze clinging to his for an instant before she looked at the woman in the bed.

All her assumptions, and some of her hard-held armor, flew out the nearest window.

In stark contrast to the rest of the room, Mistress MacMurtray looked pale and nearly colorless.

Hair that must once have been somewhere near the color of her sons’ had faded to soft gray.

A face once round and no doubt pretty now bore lines carved by pain.

Her eyes—they too looked faded, the same muted blue as the sky outside.

Yet she had a glow about her, a quiet grace, as if her suffering had worn her down to the sweetest components of her personality. Indeed, the smile she gave Darlei was rife with sweetness, and she held out a wasted hand.

“Daughter.”

It was the warmest welcome Darlei had yet received, and she had to fight back her emotions. She went forward and took the seat Deathan had vacated.

The woman’s fingers clutched her hand. Swollen the joints were, and misshapen, her grip weak.

“I am Aene MacMurtray, yer new mother, if ye will let me be. I ken fine I am no’ a stitch on yer own mother, who, my son tells me, did no’ make one o’ yer company. But I am here for ye, as she canna be.”

Darlei deciphered this incredible statement with some difficulty. “Nay,” she said, “my mother was not able to come. She needed to stay back and keep things running at home.” Plus, as Darlei suspected, Mother, who did not approve of the match, had tired of arguing with Father about it.

“Aye, well, it will be a great comfort so to yer father, knowing she is there making sure all is well at home. I am no longer able to help Murtray as I used to do. Let me look at ye,” she went on before Darlei could speak. “Aye, ye be a beauty, sure enough. Just as Deathan said.”

Startled, Darlei shot a look at Rohr’s brother. He had retreated no farther than the door where he stood watching.

Heat came to Darlei’s face as she replied, “You are too kind.”

“And are ye no’ a clever lass as well, able to speak our tongue as ye do. I confess, I was concerned we would ha’ trouble exchanging words together.”

“You need not worry for that, mistress.” Darlei’s voice was soft and respectful. No one could be harsh with this woman.

“I hope ye will come often and talk wi’ me. I ken fine a sick room is no place for a young lass full o’ life. But I would love getting to know ye.”

The young man beside the door spoke unexpectedly. His voice was deep and almost musical. “Mam was just telling me, she would like much to be at yer wedding.”

Aene MacMurtray grimaced. “I would like naught better. But I would ha’ to be carried, and would that no’ put a damper on the occasion?”

“I do not think it would,” Darlei said. “Indeed, it would be an honor having you there.”

Those pale-blue eyes lit up. “D’ye think so?”

“We can make a grand thing o’ it, Mam,” said Rohr, getting into the spirit. “Decorate a litter for ye wi’ flowers and whatnot.”

Aene laughed. “I do not know about that.” She patted Darlei’s hand. “Sit now and talk wi’ me. Tell me all about yer home.”

To Darlei’s own surprise, she did. Rohr stayed to listen but Deathan did not. He must have slipped out the door silently, because when Darlei looked around for him, he was gone.

“Ah now,” Mistress MacMurtray said at last, “I will hold ye here no longer, lass. Get out into the fresh air. Rohr, wha’ entertainments have ye planned for her today?”

Rohr, who still stood by, answered readily. “Father has some games planned, so I think. Races and archery contests.”

Aene raised a brow at him. “A chance for ye to show off a wee bit, eh?”

Rohr did not smile as he might.

“Am I to join in these games?” Darlei asked him.

Mistress MacMurtray gave a soft laugh. “Nay, I do not doubt ye are meant to watch and admire.” She added, “Lass, ye will come and see me again?”

“I should like that very much.”

Darlei felt a whit better when she and Rohr left the chamber. A measure of ease had found her there, in the gentle woman’s company.

But it died swiftly as Rohr led her away, and not another word for Darlei passed his lips.

One thing was indeed abundantly clear. Rohr wanted this marriage no more than she.