Page 21 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)

I t felt like the kiss of lightning, being touched by Princess Darlei’s gaze.

Deathan had come out early to make sure the men had their instructions and to watch the hunting party away. He did not go with them, but Rohr did, at Da’s insistence—no doubt in an effort to ingratiate himself with his betrothed’s father.

Best they leave early, for they would have rain before long.

Deathan told himself he did not mind being excluded from the group and being left behind to see to the boring details of life at the keep. And for the most part, he did not. So used to it was he that he turned to those duties for refuge.

The glimpse of Princess Darlei helped. She was still here, and so was he.

He needed to examine what he felt for her. The leap that came to his heart every time he caught sight of her. The power of being in her presence. The way it had felt yesterday up on the cliff top, holding her hand.

As if his fingers had been yearning always for hers.

She is to be my brother’s wife.

He stood with both hands resting on the stones of the wall even after she went inside the keep, those words echoing in his head, swiftly followed by others.

He could not bear it. He could not allow it to happen.

Och, but what had he to say in the matter? The king had made the order. Both men involved—his father and hers—followed that order. Even Rohr could not prevent it.

How did Deathan think he could?

And yet the connection grew inside him and gained strength each time he saw her, every time he thought of her.

She should belong to no one, save him.

Grimly now, he nodded at the last of the men on watch and ran down the narrow stone steps to the front door.

She had already gone in, and he stood for a moment where she had, as if he thought he might catch the echoes of her being.

Madness, all of it, a painful kind of madness that hurt his heart.

He would keep himself busy this day, he resolved as he went inside. Occupy his mind, make the time pass. Keep too busy to think of her—aye, that was the only thing to do. First he would stop to see his mother, then off to supervise training.

He opened Mam’s door softly and stopped as if he’d run into a stone wall.

Princess Darlei was there ahead of him.

She sat beside Mam’s bed, leaning forward gracefully with her hand on the coverlet, the two women smiling at one another. Mam’s smile spread to Deathan as she acknowledged him.

“Deathan, son, come awa’ in.”

“I—” He looked at Darlei. “’Tis no’ a good time.”

Mam ignored that and told Darlei confidingly, “Deathan always stops to see me before he begins his day. He is the very best o’ sons.”

“I do not doubt it,” Darlei said. Her gaze fastened to Deathan’s, and aye, the feelings all came rushing as they had out on the wall. The ache, the madness.

The desire.

“I can come back,” he said stupidly.

“Nay, if you wish time alone with your mother, I will leave.” Darlei got to her feet. “I would not spoil your visit.”

Mam laughed, a thing so rare these days it made Deathan blink. A weak laugh, to be sure, but still hers of old, sweet and tripping.

“Is there a reason the both o’ ye may no’ be here wi’ me?”

This time the glance Deathan and Darlei exchanged was fleeting. She looked away first.

“Come, Deathan.” Mam held out her hand.

He went in and sat on the edge of Mam’s bed, which took him very close indeed to Princess Darlei.

She sat back down and folded her hands.

“How d’ye feel today, Mam?”

“A little better. I had a good night and took some sleep.”

“That is well.” Far too often, pain kept her awake.

“I am excited to learn more o’ my new daughter.” She smiled at Darlei. “Pray, tell me o’ life in yer father’s kingdom. Was it much different to here?”

“Yes, yes it was.” Darlei’s gaze stole back to Deathan. “But I would not take up Master Deathan’s time—”

“I am content to listen.”

More than content to hear her voice, with its accent like music. To watch the light come and go in her face as she mentioned events from her childhood. To catch flickers of a smile meant for Mam, which nevertheless spilled over onto him.

To have an excuse to run his gaze down the length of her hair, touch upon the lift of her bosom. Follow her hands.

He had held that hand—the left one—in his. He longed to touch it again, to drop a kiss into the palm.

This was not like him. He never fell victim to this sort of attraction, that left him feeling like he’d been run over by a team of ponies. He did not know what to do with the feelings. So he sat. Watched her. Listened. Fell deeper into these waters that had opened beneath them.

She spoke to his mother, aye, but she included him, glanced often at him. Her childhood sounded fascinating, and her love for her home rang like a bell. When she finished, Mam said what Deathan was thinking.

“It must be so hard for ye to leave all that and come awa’ here.”

Emotions warred in Darlei’s face. Pride that said she did not want to admit anything hinting at weakness. Honesty. She nodded. “It is hard, thinking I may never see any of it again.”

“But surely ye will travel home now that the country is one and united. No more warring. Ye will be free to come and go.”

Darlei looked at Deathan, her silver eyes rueful and sad. But she said only, “Yes, mistress. So I am sure.” She rose to her feet and clasped Mam’s hands. “I must leave you. Thank you for your kindness.”

“My dear, ye be always welcome here wi’ me.”

Deathan sprang to his feet as Darlei made to move past him, and was at the door ahead of her. In opening it, he could catch her scent. The fragrance that came off her hair.

“Master Deathan,” she said courteously as she moved past him. And then, very low, so none but he could hear, “I will visit your mother first thing every morning.”

“Ah. As will I.” He bowed.

A chance for them to see one another. One built into the day. Like a promise.

He wanted the promise of this woman’s company, and to give her promises. He longed for it. Wished to pledge himself, his heart, his life.

That shocked him so much, he stood like one struck as she left.

“She is a sweet lass,” Mam said then. “Kind of her to come and see me. Now come, son, and tell me o’ yer day.”

There was little to tell other than that he feared he’d lost his heart.

After his visit with Mam, and still without breakfast, he went back up on the walls, paced them with a restlessness he could not deny. Eyed the land for danger—but aye, Mam was right. From whence would danger come, now, with the country all one?

He watched the clouds build up on the sea and imagined rain pounding down. A small, quiet sleeping place. A woman in his arms. Not Darlei. Or was she? He kissed her as if he needed the taste of her more than breathing. They made love, and it claimed him.

It changed him.

He shook himself loose of the dream, one that beset him on his feet, and tried to think.

Tried to think of reasons to be near Princess Darlei. Means and excuses for being in her company. Mam had given him one.

He needed far more.