Page 17 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)
I t might have been a repeat of the quarrel Deathan had overheard only days ago. The same raised voices. The same words, when he walked into the chamber. Only this took place in bright daylight with no storm rumbling overhead.
That made it worse somehow, for the thunder was not there to drown out the anger.
The hall was, fortunately, mostly empty at the moment, the servants having cleared away last night’s feast and gone. But it was not what might be called a private place to have a disagreement.
“Whisht!” he cried when he came in, staring from his father to his brother and back again. “I can hear ye outside, almost.”
Da blinked. He reached out and clasped a hand on Rohr’s shoulder in a gesture of warning and demand.
“Did anyone hear?” he asked Deathan.
“Nay, I do no’ think so. But anyone could come in here, besides me. What is amiss?”
But he knew. Aye, he knew.
Before answering, Da drew his two sons to the rear of the hall and through a curtained doorway to what had become his private quarters. He had stopped sharing a room with Mam some time ago, saying he disturbed her fragile rest.
Deathan wondered if his father merely could not bear to witness Mam’s suffering.
“This fool,” Da said, lowering his voice to an angry growl, “says the wedding will no’ take place. He refuses to marry the princess.”
“I will no’ marry the princess,” Rohr repeated.
Deathan’s heart leaped painfully. If the woman did not become his sister—
“He will defy his king!” Da said, still employing a subdued roar. “And shame me.”
Rohr gritted his teeth. Once again, the two of them looked so much alike, they appeared near images of one another separated only by years.
“’Tis no’ my intention to shame ye. I would ne’er do.
But the woman, the princess—ye ha’ seen her.
A savage clad in fine clothing. She does no’ understand, even, how to deport hersel’ and comes pushing forward at every opportunity. ”
Aye, Deathan had seen her. A woman like to no other.
“She is scarce a woman at all!”
Ah, but she was. Deathan could testify to that after having lifted her from the rock where she’d appeared to teeter so dangerously. He doubted she would have fallen. He had but used it for an excuse to get his hands on her.
And when he had…
Something had come alive in him. Some desire he did not know how to control.
“That is unfair,” Da said, speaking some of the words in Deathan’s head. “Ye scarce know the lass. Is this yer pride talking, Rohr? Because ye did no’ win any o’ the competitions?”
Rohr went from bone white to hectic red. “They cheated.”
“Their ways may be different to ours, but I canna say they cheated. Much learning must be done. I daresay that is the wisdom behind King Kenneth’s decision—”
“Wisdom?” Rohr fair shouted it. “ Wisdom? ”
“Hush!”
Rohr lowered his voice but said, “I did no’ come to ye for to argue it all again. I am telling ye, I will no’ marry her. Having seen her, I will no’. Let that be an end to it.”
“That canna be an end!” Da howled. “’Tis an order o’ the king—”
“Then I will go to the king,” Rohr declared. “Seek audience wi’ him. Declare this canna be done.”
Both his companions stared at him.
In true distress now, Murtray cried, “Son, ye canna do that. D’ye think ye are important enough to gain audience wi’ the king?”
“I am no’ important enough to face the man, ye say? Yet he can ruin my life wi’ an order?”
“Tell him, Rohr,” Deathan heard himself say quietly.
Both men stared at him again. A new expression bloomed in Rohr’s eyes.
“Wha’?” Da asked.
“Tell Da the true reason ye will no’ marry the princess.”
“Silence, Deathan—”
“Go on. It has to come out eventually. ’Tis no’ a thing can be hidden for long.”
For an instant, rage looked at him from Rohr’s eyes. Then betrayal and chagrin. Ye will pay for this , that look promised.
But Rohr turned to his father, drew himself up visibly, and said, “I am in love wi’ someone else.”
If he thought he could end it there, he was very much mistaken.
Da lifted his brows and took a moment before he said, “That is most unfortunate, son. I am afraid it does no’ alter wha’ must be. Who is she?”
“Caragh MacDroit.”
Da’s gaze softened. “Aye, a bonny lass.”
“I ha’ told her, weeks ago, I would wed wi’ her.”
“I fear she will ha’ to be disappointed.”
“She is carrying my child.”
That knocked Da back on his heels, so much so he stumbled to the nearest chair and sat down.
“Are ye certain?” he asked Rohr then.
“She is certain, which is what matters.”
“Nay, I mean are ye certain ’tis yours?”
Rohr flushed again. “It can be no one else’s. She is in love wi’ me!”
Da shot a look at Deathan that said much his lips did not. He gave a heavy sigh. “Ye will ha’ to provide for the lass, to be sure, and for the bairn. Still and all, it maun be kept quiet—”
“I will provide for her by marrying her.”
“Son, ye canna.”
“The child is my heir. That duty is already fulfilled.”
“If ’tis a wee lad. The powers grant it is a lass, and saves us all a lot o’ grief.”
Rohr squared himself. “Ye ask me to put Caragh aside? To break my promise to her?”
“Better than breaking faith wi’ the king.”
“And marrying instead that—that—”
“Careful of wha’ ye call yer future wife,” Da said.
“I will no’.”
Da rose back to his feet. “Ye will.”
“And wha’ am I to tell Caragh?”
“Tell her ye love her, if ye will. I ken fine a man canna always choose where he places his heart. But there is nay choice in this duty, and at times duty maun come before love.”
Rohr swore low and bitterly.
“List to me, son.” Da sounded a whit more sympathetic. “There is naught to say ye canna see Caragh on the side. Later. Once ye ha’ wed the princess and some time has passed. Once Darlei has your babe in her belly.”
“Ye bid him prove untrue? To the princess?” Deathan asked, the words torn from him.
“It happens,” Da said regretfully.
“And she is no’ a princess,” Rohr growled, “save as those savages have set her up to be. Wha’ do I owe her, compared to what I owe Caragh?”
Nothing, Deathan supposed. For true commitment stemmed from the heart.
“Caragh will insist on marriage,” Rohr declared. “Because o’ the babe.”
“A marriage can be arranged for her.” Da said. “One o’ our clansmen, perhaps a widower—”
Rohr’s eyes narrowed. “Ye would ha’ me stand aside and see her marry someone else?”
A hard fate, indeed.
“Your wedding wi’ Princess Darlei is to tak’ place tomorrow,” Father said. “What if I meet wi’ King Caerdoc, suggest it should be put off a few more days.” He made a face. “To be sure, that means we will ha’ the Caledonians here a that much longer. They are to leave directly after the ceremony.”
Rohr stared at him. “Wha’ good will a few more days do?”
“’Twill gi’ ye time to speak to yer young woman. That she may resign hersel’ to what must be.”
“I will not see her wed off to someone else.”
“’Twould be easier, Rohr, if the child has a father as he grows.”
“He will ha’ a father. And an inheritance.”
“No’ a legitimate one.”
Deathan thought Rohr might burst into flame at that.
“Pray,” Da said again, “the child is a lass. And above all else”—he drew a breath—“above all else, King Caerdoc canna be allowed to hear o’ this.
D’ye understand me? No’ at any cost. Nor the princess hersel’.
Now go ye fro’ me. Give me a chance to think wha’ I am to say to Caerdoc, to win ye a few more days. ”
“A few more days,” Rohr muttered as he and Deathan left the tiny chamber. “Wha’ good will that do?” He turned his eyes on his brother. “And ye! I trusted ye no’ to tell him wha’ ye knew.”
“’Tis better out and known.”
“He does no’ care that his own grandchild will be set aside in favor of a pup got on a vixen.”
Deathan parted his lips to speak, but Rohr hurried on, “I should take Caragh and leave, is what I should do.”
Deathan’s heart leaped again, still more painfully. “And go where?”
“Anywhere. The world is wide.”
“Surrender your inheritance here?” Leave it for me?
Rohr narrowed his eyes at that. “Mayhap Caragh and I, wi’ the child, could return after a time. Once the Caledonians have gone and the king has forgotten us.” He fixed a glare to Deathan. “The place would still be mine.”
Aye, as—so it seemed—was everything of value.