Kieran wanted to knock their heads together. If he’d intended to escape, he could have done that long ago. He’d chosen to stay here as penance and had completed several weeks of the imposed time. His hands clenched into fists, curling around the handle of the axe.
“Davin granted him permission,” a female voice interceded. “I will speak for him, as the slave’s future mistress.”
Kieran didn’t turn to look at Iseult, though his senses blazed with awareness. He could smell the flower scents Iseult used for bathing, a light fragrance that surrounded her.
“He can’t leave the ringfort alone,” the man insisted.
“Then I will accompany him.” Iseult’s tone reminded the guard of her status.
The guard didn’t like it, not at all. Kieran didn’t either, but he needed the wood. The thought of Iseult walking alone with him was akin to torture. Even now, his mind thought of dragging her into the trees and kissing her until he could rid himself of the craving. For that was all she was: temptation.
“Shall I tell Davin that you are holding me a prisoner, as well?” Iseult challenged the guard. “I believe the slave will offer me protection, should I need it.”
Eventually the guard relented. Kieran led the way, Iseult following behind. For nearly a mile, neither spoke. Even so, he sensed her presence and the way she moved. He wanted to touch her, to taste the fragrant skin and give in to his desires. With each step, his tension worsened.
At last, they reached the edge of the forest. Kieran glanced back to be sure she was there, and waited a moment for her to catch up.
Her reddish-gold hair was pulled back from her face in a long braid, two wisps framing her pale cheeks. She looked terrified, as though he were going to attack her.
“You can wait here if you like,” he offered. “I’ll get the wood I need and then we’ll go back.”
She nodded, her face drawn in as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. It was his fault she was so nervous around him. Why had she offered to come with him? After the way he’d kissed her, he imagined she would stay as far away from him as possible.
The words of apology came to him, but they would not form. He should be sorry he’d kissed her. And yet, though it had been a mistake, he had gloried in the taste of her, losing himself in the moment.
“Kieran?” Her voice held regret and a question. “About what happened between us—“
“It’s over. No one will ever know about it.” He met her gaze, letting her see the intensity of his oath. Blue eyes studied his, and though he didn’t move, forbidden attraction sparked between them. He wanted to unravel her braid, filling his hands with the softness of her hair. His mind envisioned kissing her until she had to cling to him for balance.
Iseult lifted her chin, but he saw her hands trembling. “I would never tell Davin.” She rested her palm against a thin sapling to still the motion. “It was a mistake to kiss you. I’m still going to marry him, and I will honor the betrothal.”
“You should. He’ll take care of you.” His gut twisted at the thought of Davin making love to her. Jealous thoughts had no reason for being, not anymore.
“I wish—“
“Don’t.” He cut her off, not wanting to hear it. “By the beginning of summer, I’ll have won my freedom. I’ll leave Lismanagh, and you won’t see me again.”
She expelled a breath and inclined her head. “That would be for the best.”
With the agreement sealed, Kieran turned his attention back to the wood. A single tree trunk would give him what he needed, or perhaps even a stout branch.
He walked through the forest, studying trees for those with the straightest lines. An oak tree stood near the edge, two hands wide in diameter. It would do well for his needs. He would cut the length needed for the panel and then ask Davin’s men for help in bringing the remainder of the wood back to the ringfort.
“Stay behind me,” he advised Iseult. He swung the axe, and the blade bit into the tree bark with a satisfying thunk. He eased into the rhythm of chopping, his muscles welcoming the strain. This was work he hadn’t been allowed to do at home, for it was considered beneath him. Strange that being a slave could be both liberating and confining.
He switched to the opposite side in order to direct the fall of the tree. Wood chips flew, and with a slight push, the oak tree cracked to the ground. Squatting down, he inspected the tree, using the axe to trim off the branches.
“Is there aught I can do to help?” Iseult asked.
“Not unless you’ve another axe.” Kieran continued to clear off the brush until he had a straight section. With an unhurried pace, he selected a length near the top of the tree and chopped the wood until he had the segment needed.
The fresh scent of cut wood was a familiar friend. He hoisted the log over one arm and gestured for Iseult to join him.
Along the way back, he spied a yew tree. He hacked off one of the smaller branches, for he had another carving in mind. He could bring nothing more without the help of an ox or cart.
When he glanced over at Iseult, she seemed preoccupied. He realized he hadn’t seen her leave the ringfort in the past few weeks. “Have you learned anything more about your son?”
She shook her head. “I have to visit the slave markets. Perhaps they’ll know something—“
