Their eyes met. Deathan had a sudden vision of herin his company. The two of them alone together somewhere. Dim light and the soft rugs of a sleeping place. Neither of them clad, and all her glorious hair loosed to his touch. Time for the two of them to taste, to explore, to cherish.
“Aye.”
“You could mayhap show me the sights o’ the settlement. Between your other duties, I mean.”
In the narrow gap between their bodies, where his arm hung beside hers, he reached for her fingers. No more than a passing grasp and release it was, yet it felt almost painfully intimate.
“I might do that.” His voice sounded husky to his own ears. “Let me speak wi’ Rohr first. See if I can persuade him wha’ is right. Meanwhile, ye must no’ put yoursel’ out here like this, or go anywhere alone at night. Will ye promise me so?”
“I so promise.”
“I will find a way to speak wi’ Rohr.”
“He is over in that field admiring the ponies.” Darlei turned and pointed south.
“Is he? I shall go there, then, after seeing ye back safe to yer quarters.”
Did she sigh under her breath as they turned away from the sea? Not easy for a woman such as she—one with a wild heart—to face confinement. To keep a halter on her behavior and her impulses.
“Trust me,” he bade her as they started back up the slope.
And, gazing full into his eyes, she replied, “Oh, I do.”
*
Whence came suchtrust?he wondered after he left her in her woman’s company and started off toward the broad field where the ponies were stabled and trained. Aye, he could see a group of men gathered there, standing in a dark knot. The animals had been led out, and not, as he saw when he drew near, their own, but those of the Caledonians being housed there.
An argument was in progress.
It may well have started as a friendly discussion of the differences between their animals and the Caledonians’. A rehash of the pony race. Now, though, Deathan could hear raised voices even before he reached the gathering.
Rohr was there, aye, along with their fellows who trained and cared for their stock. All the men of the Caledonian party save King Caerdoc. He and Father must be off somewhere else.
Deathan increased his pace to a lope and was in time to hear his brother declare, “There is no need to be boastful about it. I ha’ nay patience, me, for arrogance.”
That almost made Deathan snort. Rohr could at times be the personification of arrogance. Like now when he stood with his head back, color high, and eyes ablaze, facing…
Aye so, it would be Urfet, who held himself with such assurance and pride.
At the moment, Urfet looked slightly amused. Confident. Almost as if he needled Rohr on purpose just to get a reaction.
Did he want to provoke a fight? Aye, mayhap he did.
Eyeing the group of men, Deathan could not be sure. The Caledonian party had already been here longer than they had expected and likely grew bored. And Urfet appeared to be a man who would make his own sport, if none offered.
Swiftly, Deathan turned his gaze on his brother. Given his internal tensions, he could well explode.
Urfet turned his head and gave Deathan an assessing look when he jogged up. “All I said was, our animals are more agile than your own. You can tell by their build. A fact, that. How can you call it arrogance?”
“’Tis no’ a fact—” Rohr began, and Deathan jostled him.
“Brother, a moment.” If he could distract Rohr, perhaps he could keep this from going awry.
But Urfet kept goading Rohr. “Why do we not put it to the test”—he grinned—“as we did in the pony race? An informal contest here in your field.” He took an exaggerated look around. “A pity the princess is not here to put you in your place—again.”
“There is no’ woman can put me in my place.”
Urfet lifted scornful brows.
