“You’re shivering.” He reached both arms toward her. “And we haven’t had our hug yet.”
She didn’t dread it, Cara realized in surprise. She didn’t even hesitate, reaching toward him in return.
Diarmid shocked her by grabbing her waist and plopping her onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her, the heat from his body warming her back where they touched. Instead of fighting it, she relaxed against his hard chest.
“Would you ever court one of your women?” she asked. For someone who claimed to only share his bed, he knew a great deal about courtship.
“I would not,” he told her. “As I said, I have no interest in marriage, so courtship would be pointless. How are you feeling about sitting like this?”
“It’s keeping me warm,” she admitted, “and it isn’t so bad.”
“High praise indeed,” he teased. “Should we try taking it a step further?”
Cara’s stomach knotted at the thought, which meant it was likely a good idea. Clearly, she needed to work on whatever that might entail if she was nervous without even knowing the details. But she was curious over Diarmid’s resolute resistance to relationships.
“I propose a trade,” she said at last. “We can try a little more if you answer my question honestly.”
A rough chuckle sounded from behind her. “What’s your question, princess?”
“Why are you so opposed to a relationship? And don’t feed me any of that drivel about other people’s marriages failing,” she warned. “Plenty of marriages do just fine. And a courtship is not necessarily a marriage. There must be another reason you won’t even consider it.”
A featherlight touch brushed the bare skin of her shoulder, followed by Diarmid’s hot breath. His head rested just beside hers, his hands grabbing her hands and twining their fingerstogether. She felt his throat work as he swallowed, preparing to answer her question.
“I worry that I won’t be able to keep the commitment, as I seem to make a habit of letting people down. I don’t trust myself not to break her heart.”
In spite of her better judgment, Cara gave in to the overwhelming desire to comfort him. He’d told her to say more of the things she thought, and this seemed as good an opportunity as any.
“You haven’t let me down,” she told him. “In fact, you continue to pleasantly surprise me.” She turned, so that she could just make eye contact. “Perhaps you should consider our meetings practice as well, for when you decide to finally try courting.”
He squeezed her against him, tightening the embrace. “Perhaps I should.”
Chapter Seventeen
The following morn,Diarmid joined the other Fianna to make another circuit around the outskirts of Dyflin. The town lay nestled between two rivers and the sea, with streams and rivulets reaching like spidery fingers through what little land connected it to the rest of Éire. The rich, earthy scent of peat permeated the heavy air, the fresh sea breeze the only respite as they ran.
Diarmid pushed himself harder than he had in weeks. He ran through the discomfort, his legs straining, his lungs burning. Every third or fourth step his foot sank into a puddle, sometimes up to his ankle, sometimes up to his knee. Mayhap if he ran far enough or hard enough, he could outrun his maddening lust. No matter how many times he told himself he couldnotbed Cara, certain parts of his body continued to disagree. Because, all bets aside, she was marrying Sitric.
“Bog running should’ve been one of the trials,” Conan grumbled as he lost his footing beside Diarmid.
“It certainly tests my patience,” Dallan panted.
“I’m going to find a bog near Cenn Cora so we can continue once we return,” Illadan shouted from the front of the group, somehow not winded.
A murmur of opposition rose up, cut short when they ran through a swarm of midges and no one felt that protesting was worth inhaling one of the wee beasties. A light mist, teasingat rain, descended over the bay as the Fianna ran through the streets of Dyflin and up the hill to Sitric’s holding.
Diarmid, along with the rest of the Fianna, headed to his room to get a change of clothes to carry to the river, crossing paths with the ladies just before reaching the guest hall. When his eyes caught Cara’s, the same damned feeling rose inside him.
Apparently punishing his rebellious body hadn’t fixed the problem. Perhaps he needed to slake his lust a different way.
He hurried down to the freshwater river south of the settlement with his friends, his brothers as he now thought of them, careful to avoid Cara. Though only he and Conan and Cormac shared parents, he had a bond forged in blood with the rest of the men all the same.
The frigid water, which should have chilled him to his bones so late into the autumn, felt clean as freshly fallen snow as it washed the muck and moss from his tired body.
“Alright,” Illadan called, waving the men over to him near the center of the shallow river, “we need to have a decision for Sitric tonight.”
“I say we go with him,” Conan declared. “He’s right. Brian wants to raid into the north, and would see it as a favor by Sitric.”
“Brian hasn’t approved our involvement there,” Dallan cautioned. “If we’re recognized and he’s already managed to open negotiations, we could destroy any chance at a peaceful resolution.”
