Deathan rarely spokeso much or for so long. In company with his father and brother, he was expected to listen and hold his opinions. With Ma, he was comforting. In company with his friends, he was stoic, rarely expressing his feelings. With members of the guard, whom he directed, he was brief and to the point.
Now he talked, poured out words about this place he loved. The things he valued, and why. He spoke of his family’s deep roots here that stretched back hundreds of years to the Celtic chiefs who had journeyed from Ireland to seize homes in a new land.
“My ancestor, Adair MacMurtray, so ’tis told,” he related, “gained this holding by way o’ love.”
“Love?” Darlei repeated.
“Aye. Love for his wife and her grandsire whose holding it was, and who accepted him as his own. ’Tis said he chose Alba, and Alba chose him.”
“Love,” Princess Darlei said, “seems a powerful thing. I have never experienced it. Oh, I love my family to be sure. But not—”
She seemed to stick there.
Deathan said, “I understand. Love o’ the heart. For one person.”
She flashed a look at him from those silvery eyes. “Yes.”
“Nor have I experienced that. Yet,” he admitted.
“Perhaps it is not for everyone. Because though my friends have fallen victim to the love of husband and family, I have never even been tempted.”
“Mayhap ye were meant for something else.”
“Destiny, again? She spread her hands. “But for what? Not this.”
Did she mind so much walking with him? Talking with him, being with him? She saw herself only in a trap.
“I am sure ye will miss yer home. But again, ye may fall in love wi’ this place one day.”
They had reached the end of the path. It fell apart in a welter of stones and a rise that led upward.
“Let us climb,” she said impetuously. “I want to see from the height.”
“We truly should go back, princess. They will think ye lost and be worrying.”
“I care not what they think.” She scrambled on up the slope. Deathan leaped ahead of her.
“Let me go first.”
“Why?” Slightly flushed, she glared at him. “Are there dragons you shall have to batter out of the way for me?”
“I hope not.” He allowed his gaze to linger on her face. “I am no’ wearing my sword.”
The climb was stiff but worth it. At the last, he offered her his hand. The instant their fingers met, he felt… But nay, there were no words for what he felt inside, and his stunned mind did not try for them.
But he did not leave go of her hand, and when they reached the cliff top and looked out, they stood linked.
“Oh, magnificent,” she breathed.
It was. From here, one could see the far distances of the sea, and mark how restless it was, ever-moving like a man’s mind. Like the blood in his veins. The islands crouched low, thedragons all sleeping, so he did not have to battle them. He would not need his sword after all.
“It seems one can see forever.”
“Aye.” He drew her closer to him, and she made no protest, merely stood with her side pressing against his.
“Why did your ancestors not build their holding up here? Back home, we choose high ground.”
“The storms. Ye will no’ credit it on a day such as this, but in winter the waves come up and turn all to ice.”
