Page 23 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)

D arlei carried a knife to supper in the hall.

Not the small blade, this, that she used to cut her meat, but the good, stout blade she carried when she went out anywhere at home.

Because a woman never knew when she would need to defend herself.

Or when her betrothed would decide she was just too inconvenient.

But Rohr, once more seated beside her, might have been carved from wood for all the notice he took of her. Even when she sought to engage him by asking after his success at hunting, he did little more than flick a glance at her and grunt, all pretense at civility flown.

Wholly distracted, he was, by what had happened earlier. By whether or not he wanted her dead.

Darlei’s knowledge about him and Caragh was a weapon in itself, if a dangerous one. It offered her a measure of power she’d been sorely lacking.

The rain continued to fall so hard that she could hear it through the stout roof and over the noise that filled the hall. The great fire in the center of the room refused to draw in the heavy air, and smoke hung against the rafters, stinging Darlei’s eyes and flavoring her meat.

Her mood was not improved by the fact that she’d caught naught more than a glimpse of Deathan. At first she’d thought he had absented himself from supper, but he came in late, dripping wet, and took his seat at the far end of the table without so much as glancing her way.

The man looked good wetted down, so he did. She sat beside her silent future husband, picking at her food while she played out a series of shocking fantasies in her mind.

Stripping the wet clothing from Deathan’s body. Touching what lay beneath. The skin of his chest, alive with muscle. His lean belly and lower, lower still. The gleam in his eyes when she laid hold of him. The sheer, hot weight between her fingers, strong and smooth and—

But how could she know how he would feel between her hands? She had never touched him there. She had never touched any man that way.

Had never wanted to.

Now she sat at supper playing at being a proper princess while she went hot at the very thought of Deathan.

Was this desire? This raw, primitive urge that had her imagining how he’d feel and wondering how he’d taste? No wonder women got into trouble. No wonder Caragh had.

Caragh wanted her dead.

She twitched, and, beside her, Rohr jerked also, as if he paid attention to her after all.

And if this was desire, why Deathan MacMurtray? He was not the sort of man to turn her head. He certainly was not Urfet. He simply was .

That supper seemed interminable. Not even a scattering of songs from Master Coll served to lighten spirits much, and when they filed out, the mood could only be considered subdued.

As Darlei and Orle returned to their chamber, Darlei found herself wondering: could she exist on half measures? The hope of catching a glimpse of her husband’s brother? The chance of a smile?

Nay. She would starve on such a diet. Wither and die.

Then a thought burst upon her mind like a rising sun. She had a chance of seeing him at his mother’s bedside, come morning.

It proved enough to get her through the night.

*

Deathan went to his mother’s chamber early, as was his habit, to check on her before he began his duties of the day. Despite himself, he felt a surge of disappointment at finding Mam alone but for her serving woman, who gave him a smile and promptly hurried out.

Too early for Princess Darlei, mayhap. He should have done a round of the walls first, as he had the other day, in the hope they might, aye, meet here.

He gave Mam a wide smile and told her, “Good morn. Ye are looking well.”

She did, in truth, with a bit of color in her face and a sparkle in her eyes. He bent over the bed to kiss her cheek.

“I feel stronger,” she answered. “I am going to try to get up today.”

He backed off a step. “What?”

She smiled shyly. “I so wish to attend your brother’s wedding. And I would prefer not to be carried like—like a babe.”

“Aye so, but—” A sudden fear assailed him, that of something going wrong, of losing her. This gentle woman who filled such a great place in his life. “Wha’ does the healer say?”

“Och, him.”

“Aye, him.” Deathan could not help but smile.

“He does no’ think it will harm me to try. Then again, I do no’ think he believes I will succeed.”

“Ah, well, ye ha’ chosen a fine day for it. All last night’s rain is flown and ’tis a glorious morning. If ye would like me to lend an arm—”

The door of the chamber whispered open. Princess Darlei slipped in. Deathan immediately lost all his breath and half his wits.

How was it she could do that to him? Without a word. With but a smile, and even though the first of those she gave to his mam before him.

“Good morn, Mistress MacMurtray. Oh, am I intruding?”

“Not at all, my dear. Come in.”

Mam held out her hand and Darlei stepped forward to take it, which again brought her very close to Deathan. So close he could once more catch the scent off her hair—herbs?—and see the shadows her lashes cast on her cheeks when she blinked.

“I was just telling Deathan that today I mean to make an attempt to leave this bed.”

“Do you?” Darlei’s eyes widened, surprise quickly followed by concern. “Should you?”

“Sit. Sit.” Mam patted the edge of the bed and Darlei perched on it.

Deathan took the seat alongside, which had their knees nearly touching.

“I am determined to attend your wedding. And I would prefer not to be carried, as I was just telling Deathan. Thanks be, I have more time now that ’tis been delayed.

” Sudden worry invaded her eyes. “I hope no’ on my account. ”

“I do not believe so, mistress,” Darlei said uncertainly. “I hope you will be most careful not to injure yourself.”

“Ye be sweet to worry for me. ’Twill go slowly, no doubt. I will get up today, try to take a few steps tomorrow. Deathan will be here to help me.”

“Well then, I do not doubt you will be in good hands.” Darlei cast Deathan a smile that stole his breath again.

He wondered how she did it, managed to present herself in a lovely gown with her hair all dressed and her manner polite, yet still carry the spirit of a wild woman in her eyes. It attracted him in ways he could neither control nor explain.

They spoke for a while quietly about the day ahead until Mam’s woman came back in with her breakfast.

“I must go.” Darlei got to her feet.

“As must I.”

“Deathan—come back after ye ha’ assigned the men,” Mam said. “The healer will be here by then.”

“Aye so, I will.” He kissed his mother’s cheek once more. When he turned, Darlei waited at the door.

“I must speak with you,” she murmured as he opened the chamber door for her. “Alone.”

They stepped out into the corridor together.

“Is somewhat amiss?”

For an instant she looked torn. Then her gaze met his and she steadied. “Yes. I think so.”

“At noontime, then. Meet me out front of the hall. I do no’ doubt Mam will be well tired out by then.”

She nodded. Slipped away on soundless feet.

He need only live till noontime, to be with her again.

*

The settlement teemed with life when Darlei slipped out to meet Deathan. Small boats were far out on the water, and folk hurried past on various errands. A group of men that included both Rohr and Urfet worked with a number of ponies in the field.

The day could not be more different from yesterday, bright and beautiful, with the sun striking sparks off the water.

Darlei stood drinking it all in before someone slipped into place beside her.

She knew him without looking. Knew him by feel.

All morning long, she’d questioned her desire to confide in him. Chased round and round with it. Was he the proper person to tell?

Mayhap not, but she trusted him instinctively, she did. And she could not say that about many of those around her. She could not trust even her father to act in her best interest, in this matter.

She turned to Deathan with a smile. “Have you been with your lady mother all this time? How went her efforts to rise?”

His expression went grave. He often looked so, quiet and serious. Only when he looked at her did he come to life.

“It did not go as well as she hoped, or perhaps imagined. She is very weak. The will is there, but ’tis a long while since she has left that bed.”

“I am sorry to hear it.”

He nodded.

“May we walk? I do no’ wish anyone to overhear what I must say.”

“Aye. Down to the shore?”

“Please.”

She wanted to take his hand. Wanted it so much she ached. But there were people all around, and she did not wish to attract notice. So she folded her hands at her waist, an act of self-discipline.

“I must confess, princess, you have my curiosity at a pitch. Wha’ does this concern?”

“Your brother.” She barely spoke the words, so he had to bend his head to her and listen.

“My—”

“Wait. Wait until we reach the shore.”

A bright day, and no mistake. Darlei had to narrow her eyes as she watched the boats bouncing on the waves. White horses danced as far out as she could see.

He waited with that patience that seemed so much a part of him till they reached the shore, where the sound of the waves might cover whatever she wanted to say.

“Now,” he prompted her.

And she said without looking at him, “I believe your brother wishes to murder me.”