“I’m not.”
“What happened at the river today?” Cormac asked as he resumed their journey to The Broken Oar.
“What makes you think anything happened?” Diarmid shot back. “I said the same thing to you days ago.”
Cormac nodded. “Aye, you did. But this morning, the princess hardly spared you a glance. At dinner, she couldn’t take her eyes off you. You should talk to her about that, by the way. If Sitric sees the way she’s looking at you, he’s going to figure it out.”
“I’m not talking to her again,” Diarmid replied.
Conan furrowed his brow. “Figure outwhat?”
Diarmid couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. What had happened to him? Where had the man gone who bedded a different woman each night?
Cormac shoved him. Hard.
“Fine!” Diarmid cried. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of her.”
“Good God.” Conan put a hand to Diarmid’s forehead. “Have you caught an ague? Have the fair folk gotten you? You wandered into one of their forts, didn’t you?”
Diarmid swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”
“You didn’t smile once the entire night,” Cormac observed.
“You want me to smile as I watch him put his hands all over her?” The words came out before Diarmid realized what he’d said.
“Are you sure you haven’t bedded her?” Conan’s skepticism was entirely merited.
At least Diarmid hadn’t been that foolish.
Cormac cast him a sideways glance. “Have you?”
“I already told you I haven’t,” Diarmid replied testily. He could tell by the looks on their faces that they still didn’t believe him. “She made me kiss her.”
Conan let out an irritating laugh. “You jest.”
“No judgment.” Cormac’s clipped reminder had Conan sobering quickly. “Go on, Diarmid. Ignore this fool, I’m genuinely curious.”
“I’ve been helping her grow more accustomed to physical touch. Not like that, you arse,” he growled when a strangled chuckle escaped Conan. “Sitric hugs everyone. He tried several times to hold her hand and she struggled to accommodate him. So, I sat and held her hand until she deemed it tolerable.”
“I did notice she’d improved with that,” Conan told him. “Whatever you did, it’s working.”
“So what happened today, then?” Cormac pressed.
“Sitric told her if she kissed him, he’d marry her. More or less.” Diarmid ran a hand through his hair as he recalled their conversation. “She’d never kissed anyone before, and begged me to help her this last time.”
Both his brothers were silent until they’d nearly reached the alehouse. “You need to bed someone,” Cormac insisted yet again. “It’s always worked for you in the past, and it makes the most sense for this particular problem.”
“I tried! Don’t you remember? The serving maid?”
“Maybe she wasn’t the right woman—”
“When have youeverknown me to be selective over women with breasts that size?”
“I bet they bounce nicely,” Conan added unhelpfully. “Perhaps you should go give her another try.”
Cormac moved in front of Diarmid, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Four days. One raid. Then you never have to see her again. I know that’s not what you want, but it will be easier to move on when she isn’t sitting across from you at every meal.”
“Speaking of which,” Conan said, “what’s going on with you and Astrid?”
