Conan grinned at him. “Then I suppose you’ll have to make certain Teague doesn’t win.”
“He won’t,” Cormac vowed, though uncertainty threaded his thoughts. He took another swig of his ale, his best attempt to wash down the discomfort of this entire situation.
Across the table, luminous scarlet tresses caught the firelight, glittering like a beacon from within a cloud of hungry suitors. The men swarmed Astrid like flies, buzzing around and vying for her attention.
Every nerve in his body frayed at the sight of Astrid drowning in so many men. His teeth ground and he took another drink, trying yet again to force himself to a state of calm.
It wasn’t as though he had any real claim to her. Indeed, it wasn’t even as though he meant to actually marry her. His entire purpose in this arrangement was to get her out of a marriage. Why, then, did he feel the need to stride over and yank them away from her? It was all he could do to keep himself from tossing each and every one of them into the mud outside the hall and onto their pandering arses.
While the guests devoured the meal, Cormac found a brief reprieve from the torture of watching Astrid defend herself from across the large table. Conversation waned while everyone filled their bellies with the warm, delicious meal of roast salmon and root vegetables.
Before the last plates had even been cleared, however, the room returned to the lawless battlefield that it had been when Cormac first entered. Lively music beckoned from the far end of the hall for those brave enough to ford their way to the dance floor. The men reappeared, once more surrounding Astrid, and this time their gesturing indicated that they were doing their best to win a dance with her.
It didn’t matter. He could always interfere if needed, but if he went over there now, he would look just as foolish as the rest of them.
“You seem distracted tonight, brother.”
Cormac turned to find Diarmid gone, no doubt off with his betrothed, Cara. Conan grinned at him, nodding gently toward Astrid.
“I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by so many fools,” Cormac grumbled, “and I doubt she does either.”
“If it’s bothering you so much, maybe you should go do something about it.”
Cormac considered it. Indeed, the idea weighed heavily on his mind for much of the meal, until he reached an unsettling conclusion.
He may actually care for Astrid.
But Cormac held no illusions that the princess would ever return the sentiment. If he made it too obvious that he had an actual interest in her, she might end their bargain, and perhaps even choose Teague or Cairell as her new champion. Cormac doubted that any of the other warriors would agree to the deal she’d offered, particularly since she had far less leverage on them than she had on Cormac, yet the thought rattled him.
She’d only chosen him because she thought that he disliked her and wouldn’t actually want to marry her. Well that, and because of his part in pushing her brother to see her wed. If she discovered that, in spite of his best efforts, he was growing fond of her, things would go back to the way they’d been—Cormac convincing Sitric to marry Sláine while Astrid did everything in her power to dissuade him. Cormac hoped she wouldn’t turn on him so quickly, but he wasn’t willing to risk it.
As much as he wished to retire to the solitude of his quarters, he wasn’t about to abandon Astrid in a sea of drunken suitors, though he was impressed with how well she handled the onslaught. He settled in beside Conan, prepared to stay in the hall until their advances died down for the night.
In the midst of his struggle to ignore the absurd display of the men accosting Astrid, Conan smacked him on the shoulder. He nodded his head once again, as he always did to subtly sign, but this time he indicated toward one of the suitors who had peeled away from Astrid.
Their brother Teague prowled straight toward them, his deep brown eyes fixed on Cormac.
Chapter Fifteen
They were everywhere.
Reaching, talking, asking. Occasionally shouting. They lurked like crows on a battlefield.
Luckily, Astrid thrived in chaos, though she couldn’t remember a time when she’d had so many people speaking to her at once. She couldn’t understand what most of them said as they spoke over one another, but that was just fine. Perhaps Sitric had been onto something when he suggested that she meet them individually, for there was no possibility of her making sense of the conversations surrounding her while they all happened concurrently.
She’d have been far more annoyed, if not for the surreptitious glances she stole toward Cormac. It entertained her to no end, watching the progression of his obvious jealousy.
First, his eyes bored murderously into each and every man at her side, as though he could hurl them away from across the vast table. Then, she’d noted the white knuckles on his hand as he gripped his ale flagon tighter and tighter. That one had been particularly entertaining. Finally, when she’d grown bold enough to meet his gaze, she saw that he clenched his teeth so tightly he probably had broken a tooth.
At the same time as it amused her, it also brought back to life that warm, tingly feeling—the one that had started deep in her belly, growing stronger the longer she kept Cormac company on the riverbank. It irritated her far more than any of the suitors.Her reactions to Cormac were getting out of control, and that simply could not stand.
But it was fine, she assured herself numerous times over the course of the meal. Just because her body seemed to like something about the warrior didn’t mean she actuallycaredfor him, or anything equally ridiculous. They were simply working together to accomplish goals. That was it.
And that was all it could be.
Long before the skalds took up their instruments, filling the room with lively music, and long after the dancing began, Astrid’s attention split equally between the suitors surrounding her and the brooding man across the table from her. As much as she tried to ignore him, her gaze kept landing where he and his brother sat in conversation.
One of the suitors to her left—a tall, thin man who, in spite of his height over her, did not even come close to Cormac’s great stature—extended his hand, requesting a dance. Astrid turned to him so that she could decide whether or not she would accept, catching movement in the corner of her eye.
