Page 36 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)

“L ist to me,” Deathan said, and Darlei drew away just far enough to look into his eyes. The taste of him, of their kiss, remained on her lips. His hands still cradled her.

The one place in all the world she needed to be, in his arms. Yet there was no hope in it, for she could see the fear in his eyes. The man she loved wanted desperately to comfort her.

What comfort was there to give?

Fresh tears spilled over from her eyes—she who so seldom wept. She was undone, all her courage lost for love of him.

“I am being sent away,” she cried out. “To this—this Dunstoch MacNabh. Do you know of him?”

“I ha’ heard the name. A powerful chief. No doubt in favor wi’ the king.”

“And I am to be his reward,” she said bitterly. “Me.”

“’Tis too cruel. I—”

“Nay.” Lightly she laid her fingers across his lips. “Do not make more promises. There are none ye can keep.”

Agony flooded his eyes. “Darlei—”

“I have been thinking about it ever since…ever since. Deathan, I know you have promised to follow me, to find me. And I know you would save me if you could. But I do not see a way.”

“We will leave here now, before your father can take ye east. I will go and fetch a boat.”

For an instant, Darlei did hope. It would be like that glorious afternoon they had shared out on the water, a time apart from time. Only it could not last.

“Where would we go?”

“To Wales. Or Ireland. I can hire out my sword.”

A dangerous life, that. If he fell while trying to win their bread? If she lost him? An old fear, that. One rooted in her very soul.

She swiped tears from her face. “And would no one come looking?”

“Let them. We would ha’ time together.”

Some time.

“Or,” he offered, seeing the doubt in her eyes, “I will follow after yer party when ye leave. Fight ye free.”

“You would take on all my father’s men? Urfet?” Oh, that was worse even than the prospect of him hiring out his sword. For she had seen Urfet’s skill with a blade.

“Darlei, list to me,” he said again. “Would fate—would life—ha’ brought us together if ’twere no’ meant? If there should no’ be a way, however difficult?”

Lovingly, she touched his face. “I do not know. But I have this great and terrible fear inside me.”

“Fear may be overcome.”

“It may. And I always believed I might spit in the eye of my fears. That was before I met you. Before I loved you.”

“I ha’ loved ye always.”

“Yes.”

“Darlei, I will no’ surrender the belief that we are meant to be together.”

And she could not quite surrender the idea that he might die for her sake—this strong and humble man she adored.

To leave him would half kill her. To live knowing she was responsible for his death…

Nay, not that. Better to dree her weird , accept her fate, if only for his sake.

Turning her back on the very idea of him risking himself for her, she turned for the settlement.

“Darlei.” She thought she heard him whisper her name as she started off back up the shore. But she ran on.

*

The mood in the great hall that evening was strained and grim. Few of the clan’s folk were in attendance, and those of them that were—MacMurtray’s own advisors and senior members of the guard—clearly saw no cause for revelry.

Deathan’s father made a speech about how his wife had hoped to attend a gathering before the Caledonian party had to leave, but her illness still forbade it.

Mam. Deathan would have to make a few moments to see her before he followed Darlei’s party.

For he would follow. He could not simply stand and watch her ride out of his life.

It would mean breaking ties with those here. If he interfered with the king’s wishes, his father might never forgive him. It could mean being loose in Scotland’s wilds.

He did not care. This land he loved would provide for him, and for the woman he loved.

But he had not much time to prepare. Just tonight and tomorrow, when the farewell feast would occur. The Caledonians would leave the following morning, and he must have all he needed to take with him packed and ready.

Rohr, in forced attendance here and looking far happier than he had, sat looking at no one and did not notice when Deathan rose from beside him early to leave the gathering. But Urfet did and gave him a long, thoughtful stare as he slipped out.

Urfet. Would he be a problem? Darlei seemed to think so. She did not believe Deathan could best her father’s champion, if it came to a fight.

She did not yet realize he could do anything, anything for her sake.

He was packing up a leather bag when he heard a sound at his door, no more than a scratch upon the wooden frame. Darlei came slipping in.

So stirred were Deathan’s emotions, he scarce knew how he felt to see her. She had no doubt come to continue the discussion they’d had on the shore, to try to dissuade him from following after and risking himself for her sake.

She’d clearly come straight from the hall, with her hair all dressed, wearing an amber-yellow gown. She looked so beautiful, it fair stole his breath.

“Darlei,” he said, “I do no’ wish to spend more words in—”

“Nor do I.” She came to him, having closed the door carefully behind her. “No words. No more.”

She moved into his arms and pressed up against him. Her eyes made two bright silver shields, holding hard to her emotions, but he could see…he could see her desire, and it made him weak, as his own longing rose to meet hers.

“Darlei.”

“Hush. Please, Deathan. Please. Love me. Because, well, I may be able to bring myself to leave you, but not without”—light and darkness flickered in her steady gaze—“not without lying with you first.”

The emotions that poured through him then near took him to his knees. “We canna.”

“Are ye not listening? I cannot leave you unless we do.”

“Then do no’ leave me.” If she could beseech, he could also. He buried his hands in her hair. “Come awa’ wi’ me now. Tonight. I am more than half packed—”

“And if I do, and they come after us? If they catch us, and it costs your life? Deathan, I fear this has happened before between the two of us. I know not where or when. But the fear inside me is so bright, I would do near anything to escape it. Though,” she added softly, “I will have you first.”

“Darlei, I believe, aye, we are stuck on the wheel o’ time. That does no’ mean each turn o’ it will bring us to the same events. We maun be meant to learn something.”

“I have learned I love you above all others, above all else. Do not ask me to live knowing I have brought you harm. Or without having shared with you all a man and woman can share.”

He wanted her. By all the powers of the earth and sky, he did. Yet his heart insisted it could only make things worse for her.

“Please,” she whispered, and kissed him.

Ah, and he was lost, his intentions crumbling so fast it made him tremble. Could they be joined in spirit and not be joined at the root, as well?

But what would it do to him, having her once while knowing they must part?

Her fingers moved on the laces of his tunic. And aye, it felt familiar having her undress him, though they’d not done this before. They shed their clothes without modesty, one for the other, and she took a half step back on her small, naked feet.

“Let me look at you, Deathan MacMurtray.”

He stood and let her look, his lust near overwhelming but his will like iron, for her sake. It gave him a chance to look also.

Perfection, she was, her skin smooth, her waist slim, her breasts high and round. She might have been made to please him in all ways.

She had.

She touched him softly, the movements of her fingers following her eyes—his shoulders, down his chest through the crisp hair she found there and lower still.

When she sank to her knees and embraced him, pressing her cheek against his belly with her fingers wrapped around him, he very nearly succumbed.

“Please, Deathan. Love me now.”

“Aye. Come to the bed.”

He lifted her and carried her there, pushing his pack and scattered possessions to the floor. His urgency, nearly overmastering, answered to the rein of love.

This must be fine and memorable for her, as much as he could make it. He would worship her, show to her just what it meant when a man adored his woman.

And that meant kisses. Over every part of her, possibly.

He started with her lips. She met him hungrily, open mouth to open mouth, all heat and welcome. And he knew—he knew they would burn up together this night.

A curse upon the morrow.

He kissed his way down to her breasts, latched on with his tongue because he knew how that pleased her. How could he know it, when they’d never before been together this way?

By all that was holy, he just did.

A single light—the one by which he’d been working—burned in the room. Enough to allow him glimpses. Of the passion in her silvery eyes. The way she spread herself in offering. The abandon with which she invited him in.

A holy act was this mating, a thing as destined as her breath and his. But nonetheless passionate, for that.

When he pushed inside her, her body drew him in, wild as her spirit, and primitive as time.

He tried to pull out before he came—the last sort of complication she needed was to arrive at her next destination carrying another man’s child—but she locked her heels behind his back and held him, held him to her.

“Deathan.” She breathed his name. Kissed his face over and over again, desperate little kisses. Held him tight.

He remained inside her and lay marveling at the sensation. Two made one. Never had he known such peace.

Despite what must come.

“My lass. Beautiful lass.” He breathed in the scent of her hair. Of her skin.

“Do not move,” she implored him. “Do not speak. Just be with me.”