Desire.
What was he to do about the desire?
He never should have kissed Darlei in the first place—or more precisely, let her kiss him. He never should have touched her, for it had opened up a need inside him, gaping as a mortal wound. Not just for the taste of her, sharp and sweet. Or the feel of her in his arms. But for her company, her presence, the way his very world shimmered to rightness when she was near.
Naught but the promise of passion had ridden him hard all night. He’d had very little sleep, his thoughts running like a maddened creature in a cage. Seeking ways and means for them to be together.
As he saw it, the best thing that could happen would be for King Kenneth, hearing of the situation, to withdraw his insistence upon the marriage. Caerdoc would take his daughter home. As soon as decently possible, Deathan would follow and make his suit, plead his case to the Caledonian king.
The thing was…
What had he to offer for a princess? Him, a second son. What, besides his heart?
Would what Darlei wanted matter to Caerdoc? Perhaps if they both pleaded with him, he would relent and allow them to wed.
And if nothing could persuade Caerdoc that Deathan was good enough for his daughter?
Do not think about it, he bade himself sternly.If it is true ye knew her before, loved her before, then ye have come together now for good reason. There must be a way.
His father came down at the end of the training session and watched as Deathan finished up and dismissed the men. He stood watching until Deathan put aside his weapons and joined him.
“Deathan,” he said heavily and with rare approval, “’tis good in ye to tak’ over your brother’s duties. D’ye know where he may be found?”
“Nay, Da. D’ye no’?”
Da shook his head. “I am troubled,” he admitted, “sorely troubled. No’ so much by wha’ he has done—after all, young men ha’ needs, and he had no way o’ knowing what the king would decree. I believe he intended to wed this lass, Caragh. But the way he is behaving now… A man, a chief’s son, should hold his head high even when things become difficult.”
Especiallythen, Deathan thought, but did not say so.
“Instead, he hides. It fair makes me ashamed.”
Father had never said such a thing before, not of Rohr.
“Mam has been asking for him, but I could no’ find him to give the message.”
Da looked rueful. “All yer mother hears is that she has a grandchild on the way. Something she did not hope to see before. I do no’ ken whether she grasps the bigger ramifications o’ all this. ’Tis good to have King Kenneth’s favor, to be singled out as leaders in this new, united Scotland. I would do naught to spoil that.”
Deathan looked at his father with new attention. “Ye think he will still insist upon the marriage despite the changed circumstances.”
“I do not know.”
“How soon can we expect King Caerdoc to return?”
“I do no’ ken that either. Only that we maun take the best care o’ the princess until the answer comes down. She may be my daughter yet.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Princess Darlei,” Deathansaid very formally, and gave her a bow. “If ye would be so kind as to come wi’ me, there is somewhat I should like for ye to see.”
Darlei’s entire spirit leaped when Deathan spoke her name. It did not matter how formal he was, or pretended to be. The connection between them flared strong.
Two days had passed—two long days—and apart from their visits to his mother, she had found no fit excuse to be with him.
Had he found one now?
She glanced into his face, which revealed little, before gazing at Orle with a wordless demand. She was supposed to venture nowhere, save in Orle’s company. Yet Orle had watched her suffer these past two days—suffer like she had an illness—and understood what was now required of her.
“I—uh—Princess, if you will excuse me…”
