She kissed his cheek in thanks and spent time packing up bundles of supplies. Then she brought them over to the blacksmith’s hut along with two horses she’d chosen for the journey on the morrow. She tethered the horses for the night after ensuring they had water. Silvery stars dotted the night sky, the summer evening turning cooler. She built a fire and settled back to wait, leaning back against the stone wall.
Would Kieran come at all? She could hardly believe he had returned. Even so, he had behaved like a stranger. She had kissed him on impulse, hoping to thaw the dispassionate barrier he exuded. It had only startled him, and he hadn’t kissed her back.
She covered her cheeks with her palms. Was she being foolish again? A ball of hurt gathered in her stomach, for she was afraid it would be like loving Murtagh all over again. Kieran might touch her with desire, but did she hold a place in his heart? She clenched her hands together, the doubts multiplying.
But then he arrived. Light silhouetted his form, and she studied him more closely. He’d grown stronger since she’d seen him last. His dark hair still needed to be trimmed, but his face had lost the hungry planes. He wore a different tunic, a nondescript shade of brown that helped him blend into his surroundings. She wondered where he’d gotten it.
In his hands, he carried a string of fish.
“You haven’t lost your skill, I see,” she remarked with a smile, rising to her feet. “Am I supposed to clean those?”
“I’ll take care of them.” He didn’t respond to her teasing.
Her attempt at humor faded, and awkwardness silenced her voice. She didn’t know what to say, for it was the first time Davin was not a barrier between them.
Always had there been forbidden desire. But she wondered if she truly knew him.
She took one of the fish from him, needing something to occupy her hands. She unsheathed her own knife and helped him clean the fish on a wooden plank.
He offered no conversation, no contact at all. As his knife moved over the fish, his muscles appeared tense, his face strained. Almost as if he didn’t want to be here. When she could bear it no longer, she asked, “What happened after you left Lismanagh? Where did you go?”
“I went to see the slave traders.”
She nicked her finger upon the knife, gasping at the pain. Kieran came up beside her, setting his own blade down. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.” But her heart thundered at the thought of what he’d learned about Aidan.
His hand moved to her waist while he examined the cut. She tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.
“I’ll wrap it for you.” He brought a bucket of water over, lifting a dipper. The cold water spilled over her finger, washing the blood away. Kieran tore a strip of cloth from his tunic. “Sit down.”
He gestured toward a tree stump, and Iseult sat, trying to gather herself back together. The sight of the cut made her dizzy, and she forced herself to look away. “It’s not deep. You needn’t worry.”
He knelt down, taking her hand in his. Gently, he wrapped the cloth around the cut, tying off the ends. Iseult didn’t move, afraid he would pull away from her. No longer did she feel the sting of the cut. Instead, her awareness centered upon him. The way his eyes stared upon her, the roughness of his hands. She smelled the familiar scent of wood, and her gaze moved to his firm mouth. There was hesitancy in his expression and veiled desire.
Without speaking, she lowered her forehead to his, needing to be close to him. Though it was only an innocent movement, his warm skin made her remember everything about the last time he’d touched her. He inhaled a breath, as though fighting for control. Her hair fell across his shoulders, and he leaned his cheek against her own.
If she turned her face, his mouth would be upon hers.
Chapter Seventeen
Solonghe’dwaitedto touch her. Kieran was afraid of letting himself get too close, for fear he’d lose control. He desired her so badly, his hands were trembling.
Gods above, he didn’t want to frighten her. But the intensity of his need dominated all thoughts. Only a thread of control kept him from laying her body upon the ground and driving her to madness with the pleasure he wanted to give. A woman like Iseult deserved tenderness. He fought to keep the raw urges under control.
“Your son wasn’t there, Iseult.” When he voiced the words, her arms moved around his neck. He held her close, offering her the comfort she needed. “He wasn’t among the slaves.”
“Tell me what you discovered. Did you see him?”
Within her questions, he sensed the terrible fear. “I don’t know if it’s him.” But he had strong suspicions. Every instinct told him that he’d found the child. But even if it were so, she would be hurt by what he’d learned.
“On the morrow, I’ll take you there. I believe the boy I found is Aidan.” He removed the fish from the fire and prepared a portion for her, setting it upon a wooden plank.
Iseult accepted the food, picking at it without any true appetite. He suspected she wanted to go after Aidan now, even though it was impossible in the darkness.
The night air blew over her face, skimmed with the fragrance of summer. The peat smoke, familiar and comforting, eased him while they ate in silence. He watched her, the way shadows outlined the soft line of her jaw. The way her hair fell across her body in a silken web.
Without speaking a word, his gaze traveled over her body with an unspoken hunger. But if he made a single move toward her, he wouldn’t stop. His imagination envisioned pushing aside the linen gown, touching her and stroking her to a fever pitch.
