Stripping the wet clothing from Deathan’s body. Touching what lay beneath. The skin of his chest, alive with muscle. His lean belly and lower, lower still. The gleam in his eyes when she laid hold of him. The sheer, hot weight between her fingers, strong and smooth and—
But how could she know how he would feel between her hands? She had never touched him there. She had never touched any man that way.
Had never wanted to.
Now she sat at supper playing at being a proper princess while she went hot at the very thought of Deathan.
Was this desire? This raw, primitive urge that had her imagining how he’d feel and wondering how he’d taste? No wonder women got into trouble. No wonder Caragh had.
Caragh wanted her dead.
She twitched, and, beside her, Rohr jerked also, as if he paid attention to her after all.
And if this was desire, why Deathan MacMurtray? He was not the sort of man to turn her head. He certainly was not Urfet. He simplywas.
That supper seemed interminable. Not even a scattering of songs from Master Coll served to lighten spirits much, and when they filed out, the mood could only be considered subdued.
As Darlei and Orle returned to their chamber, Darlei found herself wondering: could she exist on half measures? The hope of catching a glimpse of her husband’s brother? The chance of a smile?
Nay. She would starve on such a diet. Wither and die.
Then a thought burst upon her mind like a rising sun. She had a chance of seeing him at his mother’s bedside, come morning.
It proved enough to get her through the night.
*
Deathan went tohis mother’s chamber early, as was his habit, to check on her before he began his duties of the day. Despite himself, he felt a surge of disappointment at finding Mam alone but for her serving woman, who gave him a smile and promptly hurried out.
Too early for Princess Darlei, mayhap. He should have done a round of the walls first, as he had the other day, in the hope they might, aye, meet here.
He gave Mam a wide smile and told her, “Good morn. Ye are looking well.”
She did, in truth, with a bit of color in her face and a sparkle in her eyes. He bent over the bed to kiss her cheek.
“I feel stronger,” she answered. “I am going to try to get up today.”
He backed off a step. “What?”
She smiled shyly. “I so wish to attend your brother’s wedding. And I would prefer not to be carried like—like a babe.”
“Aye so, but—” A sudden fear assailed him, that of something going wrong, of losing her. This gentle woman who filled such a great place in his life. “Wha’ does the healer say?”
“Och, him.”
“Aye, him.” Deathan could not help but smile.
“He does no’ think it will harm me to try. Then again, I do no’ think he believes I will succeed.”
“Ah, well, ye ha’ chosen a fine day for it. All last night’s rain is flown and ’tis a glorious morning. If ye would like me to lend an arm—”
The door of the chamber whispered open. Princess Darlei slipped in. Deathan immediately lost all his breath and half his wits.
How was it she could do that to him? Without a word. With but a smile, and even though the first of those she gave to his mam before him.
“Good morn, Mistress MacMurtray. Oh, am I intruding?”
“Not at all, my dear. Come in.”
