“What about our wedding preparations?” He turned her to face him. “We’ve waited a long time,a ghrá.“ In his eyes she saw such anticipation, she loathed herself for what she had to do.
Tell him now.He deserved no less than her full honesty.
“Davin, I—“
He cut her off, kissing her deeply as though he’d been repressing his own desires for weeks. There was no doubt that he wanted to lie with her.
“I cannot wait for tomorrow eve,” he murmured huskily. When he drew back, she was shaking. Her mouth felt bruised, her feelings raw.I can’t do this. I can’t wed him.
“Kieran brought the dower chest to me, this morn.” He wrapped her hair around his wrist, holding her captive. “It’s the finest work I’ve ever seen.”
“Is it?” She hadn’t known he had accomplished so much. With his injury, she didn’t think it was possible. She forced a smile, as though she were pleased to hear it.
“A pity he won’t be staying with us. His talent is unmatched.”
“Has he left?”Please, God, please. Let him be gone.
“I don’t know. I asked him to stay until after Bealtaine.” Davin shrugged. “But he has his freedom. He can go or stay as it pleases him.”
She had to know. The sooner he was gone, the sooner she could break her betrothal.
“I must go,” she apologized. “I’ve promised to help Muirne. Perhaps I’ll see you later.”
She intended to break the betrothal in private. She didn’t want him to endure the same humiliation she had gone through when Murtagh had abandoned her on their wedding day.
Though she knew Davin would fight for her to change her mind, in the end he could not force her to wed him.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I cannot wait until tomorrow eve.”
Iseult nodded, her face flaming as she turned to go. “Goodbye, Davin.”
She walked toward Muirne’s hut, not stopping when she passed the woodcarver’s dwelling. The door was closed, as if he’d left already. The thought filled her with such emptiness, she wanted to throw the door open and see for herself.
But she forced herself to keep walking. With her head down, she almost didn’t see Deena waving toward her.
“Iseult!” the healer called out. When she stopped, Deena beckoned closer.
“What is it?”
Deena lowered her voice. “He left a short time ago. I thought you might wish to know.”
Iseult didn’t have to ask whom Deena meant. “Where?”
“Eastward, near the forest. He’s on foot, so you may be able to catch up to him.”
There was no reason to go after Kieran. Already they had spoken their farewells. And yet, the thought of never seeing him again was akin to tearing out her heart. Her body tensed with the loss, and on impulse she hugged the healer. “Thank you, Deena.”
The old woman’s eyes turned kind. “Go to him. You can take my mare, to save time.”
One last chance to say goodbye. It was wrong, and yet she needed a stolen moment in his arms, a memory to carry with her.
It took only moments to lift a blanket over the animal’s back and mount. Iseult urged the mare forward, pausing briefly at the ringfort gate to speak with one of the guards. “I am going to bring back some herbs for Deena.”
The guardsman did not protest but waved her onward. As soon as she cleared the ringfort, Iseult urged the animal to go faster. In the distance, she saw the lone figure of Kieran.
She held tightly to the reins, her knees gripping the mare for balance. When she reached him at last, she recognized the forest where they had gone to collect wood so many weeks ago. It was here that he’d rescued her from the Norse invaders. She shivered at the reminder, drawing the horse to a stop.
Kieran glanced back at her, his face unreadable. Iseult dismounted, leading the mare toward him.
