“I’m certain they will,” he agreed. “Enjoy your dinner, my lady.”
When servants set platters upon the tables, a general murmur of approval drifted through the room. It would seem one day without meat had been one day too many, Eva thought with amusement. She decided not to tell them yet that she wasn’t going to serve it at all during Advent.
Eva tried to figure out what Dallan and Finn said to one another in conversation. As a hostage, she sat entirely alone and it provided at least mild entertainment. Halfway into the meal, Dallan started laughing infectiously, turning her thoughts once more to her father. What she wouldn’t give for him to be here to see Dallan laughing, to share another meal with him herself.
In the midst of her mind’s dark wanderings, Finn’s deep blue eyes captured hers. It took her a moment to realize that he was frowning at her with abject disapproval.
She shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head, attempting to illustrate her utter loss as to why he should be cross with her.
His gaze darkened further. Without breaking eye contact, he roughly tore a sizeable chunk of bread from his trencher, waved it at her, and ate it.
She burst into laughter, unable to help herself. He looked like he wanted to murder her over a loaf of bread. And he looked none too pleased that she found his reminder amusing.
Now Dallan was looking at her as well, though he seemed to think she’d finally gone mad. She watched him nudge Finn, who shrugged and gave a short reply, before giving her yet another meaningful glare.
Deciding he’d more than earned it, she made a show of taking an obscenely large bite of her own bread. And determined that perhaps he had a point. Had it really been so long since she’d eaten a proper dinner? She didn’t remember bread tasting so delectable before. Crusty and salty on the outside, warm and sweet on the inside. Much like her older brother, she thought wryly. She’d have to save that barb for their next meeting.
The thought led directly to one which was far more serious. As much as Eva wanted to verbally spar with her brother like they had as children, she wanted him safe even more. And she still hadn’t found a way to convince him to leave.
The meal was followed with a performance by one of the other bards, a lean warrior with dark, wild curls. He played beautifully, but Eva doubted anyone could play like Finn. It wasn’t a fair comparison.
And she couldn’t be happier about getting lessons from him, though she’d never admit it to Dallan. The last thing he needed was to see the bottomless depths of her desperation.
The very moment it was seemly, Eva made her way down to Loch Derg. Unable to sit, she paced before the water’s frothy edge. The full moon cast the water in a sheen of silver, like a blade melted in the hottest forge. Across the lake, the owl began its nightly conversation with her companion overhead.
“Do you ever swim?”
Eva turned, her breath catching as she watched Finn walk over to her in the quicksilver moonlight, his harp strung over his shoulder. He certainly was handsome. She laughed, partly to distract him from her momentary lapse of thought at his appearance and partly at his ridiculous question. “I can’t swim.”
His glare returned, his eyes like storm clouds rolling across blue skies. “Let me get this straight.” He released each word with great effort, working his jaw while he spoke. “You come alone. At night. To the lake. Andyou can’t swim?”
Eva did her best not to laugh, rolling her lips together. “It’s not as though I’m going to simply tumble into the water,” she said, attempting to pacify him. “I assure you, I’m perfectly safe.”
“Your brother should have taught you,” he growled.
Deep in her core, it felt as though someone had plucked a bow, or perhaps pulled it tight. Either way, it was unsettling. “Swimming is for men to learn and women to watch.” She repeated the phrase her brother had told her every time she’d asked to learn.
Finn was even less amused, if that were possible. He ran a hand through his golden hair, heaving a put-upon sigh.
“What?” she asked, feigning ignorance of his discomfort.
“Just how many men have you watched swimming?”
“Why Finn Ulfsson,” she teased, walking in front of him with a sidelong glance, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”
He scoffed. “I’m not, I assure you. I’m merely concerned that you’re learning improper form by watching fools paddle about.” He grabbed her arm as she passed him, gently but firmly. “Promise me you won’t come down here without me.”
“Finn,” she began, but he shook his head.
“Promise,” he demanded.
“Fine,” she agreed, trying not to think about how much she liked the feel of his grip on her arm.
“Good. Now then, let’s play the harp, shall we?”
Chapter Eight
Finn hadn’t thefaintest idea how he was going to get through this lesson, let alone all the other ones she’d be expecting. When he first walked onto the shore, breaking out from under the canopy of trees, she’d looked painfully beautiful, pacing the shore alone in the moonlight. The dress she wore hugged all her curves—the ones he wasn’t supposed to notice on Dallan’s little sister. And, best of all, she’d smiled when she saw him.
