Page 26 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)
D arlei stood high on the wall that guarded the keep, where Deathan soon found her. She knew very well she should not be up here—two members of the guard had hurried to tell her so as soon as she and Orle ascended the steps.
But she felt so trapped and so beleaguered by the thoughts cramming her head that she’d wanted—no, needed—to escape. It was either try to make another break for freedom here in this country she did not know, or climb the walls where she could at least glimpse an elusive liberty.
“I just want to look out,” she’d told the guards, two big, rough-looking, well-armed men. “I just wish to see.”
That was before Orle began charming them, speaking prettily in her less-than-perfect Gaelic.
The two men had eaten it up, softening considerably as they spoke to the diminutive maid.
They still stood at a distance chatting, and Darlei took advantage, thinking, It will not be long before Orle marries one of their sort, given we stay.
Deathan came upon her leaning dangerously far over the breast-high wall, and gave a nod to his men before he joined her.
“Princess, wha’ are ye doing up here?”
“Looking.” Dreaming. She shot him a glance, one that became a long and luxuriously enjoyable examination. She could admire the view, yes. Or she could admire something far better.
The light up here was so clear, it showed her every detail. The myriad colors in his hair, all woven together—amber and honey brown and gold like the fine strands the jewelry makers drew out back home.
His skin wore a tan over those freckles she had detested on his brother, and on Deathan came to find, well, acceptable. More than acceptable. His eyes…
Yes, in the fine, strong light of midday she could see the deep blue of them, could almost count the separate flecks of green that made rings around each pupil. All shaded by those long brown lashes.
It made her hurt to look at him, to draw a breath. But she wanted to go on looking. She wanted to touch his hand that lay beside hers on the stone.
She wanted to kiss him.
That thought startled her, but the desire would not back down. She wanted to taste his lips. To kiss each separate freckle. Did they extend everywhere ?
“There has been an accident,” he told her, and then reconsidered. “It may have been an accident.”
“My father?” The desire did take a half step back, but did not desert her.
“Nay.” Deathan shook his head. “Rohr and the others were at the field with the ponies, as ye said. Rohr let your father’s man, Urfet, talk him into a race. He fell.”
“Urfet did?”
“Nay, Rohr. He’s broken his arm. The healers say ’tis a bad break.”
“Oh.” Her mind raced even as she dragged her gaze from her companion. “What will that mean for the wedding?” For us , she added silently.
“I do not know. I went to the field to try to ask Rohr about what you heard, and the threat Caragh expressed. I had no chance.”
Darlei frowned at the far distance. This section of the wall faced eastward—the direction of home.
Did she still want to leave here?
“I suppose the marriage could still take place,” Deathan said in a low voice so the guards and Orle did not hear.
He took a measured look at the three of them, the two big men clearly in thrall to Orle’s sweetness.
“But if there is a threat to ye, my father needs to know of it. Here at Murtray, ye be under his protection.”
“I will go out of my mind if this goes on much longer.” If she could not be with this man beside her. Could not touch and taste him. Explore all that could be between a man and a woman.
Why him, of all men? To look at, with an unprejudiced eye, there was not all that much to tell between him and his brother. Yet Rohr repelled her. And he…
He turned his head and looked her full in the eyes. “Would ye still be happy to leave here, princess? D’ye wish to say farewell to me?”
“Nay.” She shook her head so emphatically, her hair flew. “Nay, and nay I do not.” Not ever. “But—”
“Master Deathan?” The two guards stepped over to them. They had Orle tucked between them like treasure.
Deathan straightened. “I came up to tell ye that there has been an accident. Rohr has broken his arm and will be forced to rest awhile.” Whether his brother would or would not was another matter, so his tone implied. “So for the time being, ye will tak’ orders from me.”
One of the men, the taller of the two, gave an easy grin. “Do we no’ do that already?”
“Aye so,” Deathan admitted ruefully. “I was also just telling Princess Darlei that ladies should no’ venture up here on the wall.” He offered Darlei his arm. “Let me escort ye back down.”
A gift it was, an opportunity to touch him. Darlei wrapped her arm around his, skin to skin, his all warm and sunlit.
An image bloomed within her mind. The two of them together, naked, nothing between them but desire.
Oh, but somehow, she had to make that happen.
Orle, with soft words for her two swains, followed them down quietly. At the bottom of the steep stone stairs, Deathan said, “Princess, I suggest ye retire to yer room.”
“I tell you, I will go mad pent up there.”
“Just until we see how matters stand.”
“Very well.” She could do that. She could, for him. because her heart, always wild, now strained to belong somewhere.
With him.
*
Deathan went looking for his brother and found him drowning his sorrows in the guards’ warming room, which oft served as a meeting and drinking chamber for the men. Several beds had been set up there, and those who were off duty tended to gather, especially in bad weather.
The weather was not bad now, but gossip could also make them gather—and the subject of current gossip sat in one corner, drinking steadily.
The men, drifting in and out, rolled their eyes at Deathan and did not say much. The tale would have spread—like fire, it would—and it said something for Rohr’s state of mind that he would rather sit here and brave the talk than languish alone in his chamber.
Or perhaps the ale merely helped dull the pain.
Deathan sat at the table opposite his brother. They had never been the sort to confide in one another, not even in their youth. They thought far too differently, and Rohr tended to look down on Deathan, or so he believed.
Rohr did not appear pleased to see him now. He would be less so before the conversation ended.
“How bad is it?” Deathan asked.
“Bad,” Rohr answered, more frankly than Deathan would have expected. “Hurts like a bugger, but no’ so much as letting that bastard best me.”
“He did no’, truly. The race ended when ye flew off yer mount. The bastard did no’ have a chance to finish and win.”
“That will no’ be the way he tells it. I wanted to wipe the smile off the arrogant serpent’s face. Wha’ reason have Caledonians to feel so superior?”
“Urfet is a confident fellow. Good at many things. Mayhap we ha’ underestimated the Caledonians.”
“See, brother, that is the trouble wi’ ye. Ye are too soft and generous. Ye always tak’ the line that others are as good as us. No one is as good as us.”
“That, I suppose, is why ye sit here wi’ a broken arm and Urfet is off bragging.”
Anger flared in Rohr’s eyes. “I can reach across this board and throttle ye wi’ one hand, ye ken.”
“I think not.” If anyone proved arrogant, it was Rohr. And Deathan had taken his fill of it. “Ye consider me soft, do ye?”
“Aye so.”
“Then I will tak’ a hard line wi’ ye. Settle this business wi’ Caragh, once and for all.”
“This, again?” Rohr squinted at him. “Ha’ ye not done enough in that regard, failing to keep my secret?”
“Ye maun do the right thing.”
“I am terrible weary,” Rohr said bitterly, “o’ people telling me what to do.”
“Because Princess Darlei knows.”
That made Rohr’s eyes come up to meet Deathan’s. They held surprise. “How? How could she know?” His lips parted in a snarl before he said, “Unless you told her.”
“She saw the two o’ ye together. Overheard ye talking.”
“Och, shite.”
“Aye so,” Deathan said. “She feels threatened by the situation. Threatened by wha’ she heard.” Did he have to be more pointed?
Nay, for darkness flickered in Rohr’s blue eyes. No doubt he recalled what he and Caragh had last said to one another. “How—”
“Does it matter? Ye maun confess what Caragh asked ye to do, tell Da before Darlei goes to the king.”
“There is no need. Those were just words on Caragh’s part. She did no’ mean—”
“Is that wha’ King Caerdoc will think?” Deathan leaned toward his brother. With deadly intent he said, “Go to Father and tell him what Darlei overheard. Or I will.”
Before Rohr could protest farther, Deathan got up and left the chamber.