Page 37 of For a Wild Woman’s Heart (Ancient Songs #3)

T ime, so Darlei decided during that night and the day that followed, was a strange commodity. It dragged when she waited to be with Deathan. Flew when she knew she had not much more of it with him. Went away entirely when she was in his arms.

She left him three-quarters of the way through the night when she thought no one would see her slipping away. Orle, to be sure, would know. Orle, she could trust.

She felt like a different woman when she slipped away. Not just a new sort of Darlei, who had lost her maidenhead and flown into womanhood, but someone else entirely. One who already knew how it felt to lie with a man—this man. One who had already done so, perhaps at other times. In other lives.

He had tried to talk to her about that before she left him, standing there naked and oh-so earnest, he had.

How sure he was that they’d come round on this turn of the wheel for a reason.

That there was something they must learn.

Something they must do differently to avoid living through this kind of pain ever again.

That there was pain—pain amid the great love and joy—neither of them could deny. It had broken her heart to walk away out of his chamber. What it would do to her to leave him…

It made it hard to breathe just thinking on it. Yet she had but one more day. And time being what it was, that would slip through her fingers like water.

That, even more than the learning of lessons or the embracing of their destinies, remained on her mind as she slipped back into her own chamber. The man she loved had perhaps more faith than she.

Fear made it so hard to believe.

Orle was sleeping when Darlei arrived, but sat up in her little cot to stare.

“Are you all right?” Darlei had, of course, told Orle where she was going before she slipped off to Deathan’s chamber. Now the girl eyed her searchingly. “How—how—”

Darlei doubted she had words for what had taken place between herself and Deathan. She doubted there were words, though she did surely owe some to this girl whose reticence had allowed for it. She could not say she felt wonderful, for leaving Deathan had torn the heart from her.

Softly, she whispered, “I had what I wanted. What I sought.”

“Oh!” Orle blushed. She got up and came to Darlei, keeping her voice soft. “I hope it is what you wanted, for it was a terrible chance to take. One of the first things my mother told me was that if I lie down with a man, I may come away with his babe. And you are to go to another man.”

“Yes, it was a terrible chance to take. But worth it.”

She half expected Orle to go on chastising her, or fretting. Instead, her friend drew her into a tight embrace.

Darlei wept. Wept and wept.

“I do not want to go to another man, Orle. I want Deathan. No one but him.”

“I know it is hard to bear.” Orle smoothed back Darlei’s hair. “But the king’s orders must be obeyed.”

“Orle, I am so afraid. Not just because I do not know how I am to live without him. I fear he will follow after me, make some attempt to win me away. Die for it.”

“Oh, Darlei, why should you think such a thing?”

Because it had all happened before. He had risked himself, as a warrior he had, time after time.

“Better,” she whispered, “I should pass into lifelong misery than he should die for my sake.”

“Neither of those things need happen. You may well grow fond of this Dunstoch MacNabh whom you are to wed. And though I am sure you do not believe so now, your longing for Master Deathan may fade.”

It never had, in the past. It never would.

“Now come. Get some rest. Tomorrow is likely to be a difficult day.”

Darlei went to her bed, but she took no rest.

*

All the following day, Darlei’s mind remained like a mouse trapped in a ewer, running endlessly, trying to find a way out. She went early to see Mistress MacMurtray, intending to say her goodbyes.

Deathan was not there, and the grief of it hit Darlie all out of proportion.

“Och, lass,” Mistress MacMurtray said, her pale-blue eyes full of regret, “I am that sorry to see ye go from us. I was looking forward to yer wedding, and to you becoming my daughter. Do no’ greet.”

“Nay.” Darlei swiped at her cheeks. She had done enough of that in Orle’s arms. What had come over her? Was she not a strong woman? A Caledonian princess.

“But I understand why the marriage agreement is broken and why ye maun leave—to be sure, I do. My husband has explained to me what my son has done.”

Her son. Deathan. But nay, Mistress MacMurtray did not speak of him.

“For Rohr to have got another lass wi’ his child—”

“He loves her. And it happens.” Darlei understood that now in full.

“Aye, so it does. But I doubt his father will ever forgive him. For our clan to fall out o’ favor wi’ the king”—Mistress MacMurtray’s gaze softened further—“and for us to lose ye, ’tis a blow.”

Yet life here would go on after Darlei left. Rohr would marry his lover and raise his child. Mistress MacMurtray, sweet woman that she was, would likely linger in her illness. Deathan…

What would become of him without her? What would become of her, without him? Sitting there with Mistress MacMurtray, she could feel the wheel of life turn, with herself helpless upon it.

Slow. Inexorable. Immeasurably cruel.

Despite all her best intentions, tears pricked Darlei’s eyes when she said, “I wish to thank you for your great kindness while I was here. You welcomed me at once, and it made such a difference.”

“I only wish ye could stay.”

“As do I.”

Mistress MacMurtray squeezed Darlei’s hand. “May the gods go wi’ ye, lass, on your journey. And may ye find much happiness in yer life.”

A blessing. Yet Darlei felt as if her happiness had flown. She expected no more.

“Ye leave us in the morning, aye?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Pop back in and see me before ye go.”

“If I can.”

Darlei hurried out so the woman would not see her tears. Orle was waiting.

“Your father wishes to see you, Darlei.”

Her father’s quarters were in disarray, his man packing. Caerdoc gave Darlei a sharp look when she came in. “Daughter, are ye packed and ready to leave?”

“Most of my things have been gathered, yes.”

“Make certain they are. Chief MacMurtray wishes us to feast tonight, an effort to assuage his guilt, I do not doubt. I will not deny him, even though ’tis a terrible inconvenience for us to travel on.” He sighed. “This marriage should have been over and done long since.”

An inconvenience. Was that all her future meant to him?

“We will give him his feast, as I say, but I wish to be ready to leave by first light tomorrow.”

“So early?”

“Our journey is a considerable one. And I want the dust of this place off my feet. It has not been a rewarding experience.”

Not rewarding? Her fingers trailing over the warmth of Deathan’s naked skin, across his taut belly and lower still. His mouth at her breasts, calling up a passion she’d never imagined. The heat of him inside her, the deep and thrilling sense of belonging.

There could be no greater reward in all of life.

And standing there amid the chaos of her father’s chamber, she knew whatever it took, before she left Murtray she must have Deathan again.