Which was precisely the problem. Finn was dangerous, Eva realized. She grew far too fond of him with each passing day. Particularly when considering the myriad barriers that would prevent them from ever becoming more than friends.
First, she had no interest in anything but service to her family. She had decided after losing her second betrothed that she would not marry, which is why she had been living happily in the monastery at Cill Dara until Sitric came for her that fateful night.
Second, as a hostage, she would have to convince Brian to allow her to marry—a formidable task, to say the least.
Third, Dallan would never approve the union, for so many reasons Eva didn’t even bother contemplating them.
Finally, and most importantly, every single man in her life was either in constant danger or already dead, mainly due to her bloodthirsty cousin Baeth. She was not about to bring yet another sheep to the slaughter. Her position as a daughter in the house of one of Brian’s greatest enemies meant any man tied to her was also tied to an early grave.
“We’ll keep an eye out,” Cormac’s deep, even voice tempered her frantic thoughts. “I can ask around to ensure ’tis nothing nefarious. And we can remind the men that trysts should happen elsewhere.”
For what seemed like the hundredth time in the space of a minute, Eva reminded herself that in spite of whatever ridiculous, inexplicable response she might have to the news that Finn had a lover, she was not—wasabsolutely not—jealous.
And for the hundredth time in the space of a minute, her heart ached.
Chapter Ten
It was gone.His harp was gone.
Finn overturned the ten items he owned, all of which were too small to hide anything. He dismantled his pack. He even picked up the cot he slept on, though he couldn’t imagine how it would have gotten under there.
Of course, he thought bitterly.
He was surrounded by the sons of wealthy lords, and some thief chose the only item of value he’d ever owned to steal. Righteous fury descended upon him, filling his lungs with fire and his mind with only one thought: he was going to get that harp back.
He’d come to his tent to get it for his lesson with Eva, but that would have to wait now. Instead of wandering down to the lakeshore, Finn stormed back up to the great hall. He didn’t stop until he found Illadan, standing on the dais talking with Broccan.
Illadan’s eyes widened when he spotted Finn striding toward them. Broccan frowned at him with concern.
“Finn,” Illadan greeted him, his eyes wary. “What can I do for you?”
“Someone stole my harp.”
“You’re certain? ’Tis quite an accusation to throw around.”
“Mayhap ’twas the woman you’ve been trysting with,” Broccan grumbled, crossing his arms and widening his stance.
Finn’s pulse raced. Did they mean Eva? Did they know he’d been meeting with her each night? Finn glared at him. “Excuse me?”
Illadan sighed heavily, shooting Broccan an exasperated glance. “We’ve spotted a woman sneaking around your tent of late,” he explained. “It seems a good time to remind you to take your trysts outside of the encampment.”
Finn took a full step backward, absorbing what seemed a ridiculous statement. “Had I a lover, my lord, I assure you I would do as you ask.”
“Are you saying you didn’t invite any women to your tent?” Broccan’s skepticism fanned Finn’s anger.
“I’ve just said as much, haven’t I?” He grew weary of the ridiculous turn of this conversation. “I must recover my harp. I don’t know who’s taken it, but I assure you, it has nothing to do with any women I know of.”
“Indeed.” Illadan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I shall see what I can learn. Have no fear Finn Ulfsson, the bard shall have his harp.”
“You have my thanks.” Finn somehow managed a nod to Broccan before finally heading toward the lake to meet Eva. He’d packed her a rather large meal this time, which he meant to give her an earful over. She’d been eating just fine until tonight. For some reason, she’d not attended dinner.
As Finn wandered down the wooded path toward Loch Derg, an odd thought crossed his mind. Almost as ridiculous as the conversation he’d just had.
Eva hadn’t been at dinner. A woman had been snooping around his tent. Now his harp was missing.
She couldn’t have stolen it, could she? Finn could hardly believe he was thinking it, yet nagging doubt wouldn’t relinquish its hold. Were Eva and Dallan using him for some greater plot he’d yet to uncover? He knew Dallan still kept secrets from him, but Finn had truly believed Eva to be trustworthy. Could he have misjudged her so gravely?
He shook his head, huffing at his own thoughts. Of course not. Eva would never do such a thing. Though he was terribly concerned over why she’d missed dinner. Was she ill? Dallan had hardly said a word the entire meal he was so concerned over his sister.
