Page 33 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)

“P rincess Darlei,” Deathan said very formally, and gave her a bow. “If ye would be so kind as to come wi’ me, there is somewhat I should like for ye to see.”

Darlei’s entire spirit leaped when Deathan spoke her name. It did not matter how formal he was, or pretended to be. The connection between them flared strong.

Two days had passed—two long days—and apart from their visits to his mother, she had found no fit excuse to be with him.

Had he found one now?

She glanced into his face, which revealed little, before gazing at Orle with a wordless demand. She was supposed to venture nowhere, save in Orle’s company. Yet Orle had watched her suffer these past two days—suffer like she had an illness—and understood what was now required of her.

“I—uh—Princess, if you will excuse me…”

She hurried off, not pausing to give a reason. Likely because she had none, save kindness.

“Master Deathan, what is it you have to show me?”

“Somewhat to give you pleasure, so I hope.”

He would give her pleasure. Being alone with him would.

She’d dreamed of him these past two nights—at least, she’d dreamed of being with a man who felt like him.

Kissing and doing more than kissing. So detailed were the dreams that though she’d never been with a man, she felt as if she’d had this one.

Felt him inside her. The two of them made one.

Either what he’d said about past lives was true, or she was going mad entirely.

And now, now because there were so many eyes watching them as they passed, his clan’s folk far too curious, she had to act polite and proper.

“A cool day today,” she remarked, matching her steps to his as they headed toward a group of stone outbuildings.

“Aye, it feels more of autumn than aught else. Are ye warm enough?” He eyed the shawl she wore, and she wished he would tuck it up higher around her ears. As she could tell he wanted to do.

I would be warmer in your arms. But she could not say that aloud.

“Where are you leading me?” Somewhere— please, all the powers of earth and sky —where they could be alone. Where he could kiss her. She could not live much longer without his kisses.

He smiled. “You shall see. I ha’ been hoping ye are no’ too lonely here wi’ us. I ken fine ye ha’ yer woman for company, but I hoped another sort o’ companion might brighten yer days.”

“Oh?” He’d been thinking of her. Even as she thought of him.

He led her into a small stone structure, passing a young lad just leaving, who flashed him a smile.

“One o’ our bitches had a litter some time ago. The hound pups are just ready to leave her. I thought ye might like to choose one.”

“Oh. Oh!”

The interior of the stone shed smelled of clean straw and dog. The dame hound lounged at her ease, a great, shaggy gray beast, with her pups tumbling over her and each other.

“Oh!” Darlei cried again, and fell to her knees in the straw beside them.

“A few o’ them are spoken for. That one there wi’ the white blaze, and the tan female. This one, I think. But ye can see ’twas a grand, big litter.”

The dam looked at them with calm amber eyes. Fully half the litter came tumbling into Darlei’s lap, and she laughed for the first time in days, with delight. Ah, she had not laughed so since before Father told her of the king’s decree.

The pups climbed over her knees. They nipped her fingers and tugged at her clothes. Tumbled over one another like furry acrobats. With their chubby legs and stubby tails, she could scarcely believe they would ever be as sleek and magnificent as their mother.

She raised eyes full of mirth to Deathan’s. Saw his spirit take light from hers.

“I used to have a hound of my own,” she said. “When I was young. He grew old and—well, did what old hounds do.”

“Would ye like to have another?”

“I would.” Oh, she would. “But”—she shook her head—“will it be wise? With all the uncertainty.”

“If ye go back home, ye can take the pup wi’ ye.”

Could she? But what of after?

Gazing at him steadily, she said in a soft voice that would not carry beyond the pups’ yips and mews, “What if King Kenneth dissolves the marriage agreement and yes, we do go home? You have said you will find me.”

“And so I will,” he promised. “If I ha’ to travel half of Scotland.”

“I take that promise, Deathan MacMurtray, to my heart.”

“As ye should.”

“I think,” Darlei told him, putting the pups away from her with regret and getting to her feet, “I should wait till we learn the high king’s decision. For though I should love one of these pups for company, there is one thing my heart desires more.”

Emotions chased one another through Deathan’s eyes. “Ye think—”

“I think if it comes to it and you have to follow after me in truth, my father may not approve of the match.”

He took it like a blow, which was not her intention, to hurt him. With far less enthusiasm he said, “Aye, I see. As naught but a second son, I ha’ little to recommend me to a king o’ the Caledonians.”

She stepped closer and touched the front of his tunic with both hands. “It would be my greatest honor to wed wi’ ye, Deathan MacMurtray. I cannot imagine anything finer in all the world.”

“But your father will no’ see it that way.”

“Perhaps not. And”—she tossed her head—“if he does not give his permission, then we will have to flee together. Because as you have promised that you will always find me, I so promise to always follow when you do.”

“Darlei.” He barely breathed her name, yet the emotions leaped in his eyes. The future was the future, unknowable. The past, with its secrets unfolding inside her, was the past. He was here, warm and strong beneath her fingers, love brimming in his eyes.

Love.

She leaned up, not even pausing to wonder if there was anyone save the dam and her pups to see.

Their lips met, warm on warm, and the world snapped into such perfect focus, it made her ache.

For a few precious moments she drank of him before remembering where they were and what they should not do. She stepped away.

Not far.

“I think,” she mused again, “I should wait to find out how things lie before claiming a pup. If I am to stay here”—if the marriage to his brother must take place—“then yes. I will choose one, and gladly.” For consolation in a life most unbearable.

But would parting from him, subject to her father’s will, be still more unbearable than living in his proximity while married to his brother? In truth, she did not know. She did not know for what to hope.

“Come,” he said with rueful regret. “This was a poor idea.”

“It was a wonderful idea.”

“’Tis only that”—his beautiful, broad-palmed hands came up but did not touch her—“when I think o’ ye, I see ye wi’ a great hound at your side.”

“Do you think of me?”

“Constantly. Darlei—”

The lad came in and they stepped apart, Darlei’s pulse leaping.

In a voice not quite steady, Deathan asked the boy, “How many o’ the pups are spoken for, Kai?”

“Only about four o’ them, Master Deathan.”

“Well, hold one back. Princess Darlei may wish for one. She is no’ yet decided.”

The lad gave an easy smile. “Which one, mistress?”

“It does not matter.” Darlei had a sudden and near-overwhelming prescience of doom. Something dire and terrible came to them. She found it difficult to smile at the lad when she said, “They are all splendid.”

“’Tis a fine litter,” Kai agreed. “Very well so.”

“Wha’ is it?” Deathan asked Darlei when they stepped outside. “I felt yer mood change back there. Is it because ye canna choose a pup? I am that sorry. I would no’ ha’ brought ye here if—”

“It is not that. Walk with me.”

They went away up the shore, their steps matching without thought or intention, Darlei wrapping herself tight in her shawl against the cool breeze.

So close did they walk that several times Deathan’s elbow bumped hers. Not till they were well out of sight from the settlement did he stop walking and turn to her. “Tell, Darlei.”

“I am not sure I can.” Helpless now against the feelings that assailed her, she shook her head. “I feel, here—” She pressed both hands to her chest.

He captured them in his. “Wha’ did I tell ye about faith? About believing? Darlei, if ’tis true we ride on the wheel of destiny, then wha’ has been must be again. D’ye no’ see?”

She wished she did. “I believe in you .” Her faith in him had become absolute. “In any promises given by destiny, not so much. I fear—I fear—”

“Do no’ fear, darling. Do no’ fear, love.”

Suddenly she wanted to weep. Because she could not make him understand what she felt coming, how dire and terrible it might be.

He was a warrior, this man she loved. His instinct was to fight. Fight for her, if need be.

She knew to her heart that all such battles did not end well. And she could never bear to see him fall.

“Och, now,” he told her, “do no’ weep.” Only then did she realize her eyes brimmed with tears.

Gravely and deliberately, he raised each of her captured hands to his lips, dropping kisses in the palms. Bestowed soft, sweet kisses at each side of her lips, her cheeks, her brow.

“Trust me,” he bade her.

And she whispered, “So I do.”

But the future frightened her still.