Her beloved Loch Duich and the great hills guarding its shores; a land dressed in clouds, mist, and heather.
But Dare was her home now, so she swallowed against the lump in her throat, squared her shoulders, and prepared to bend the truth one more time.
“My night was good,” she lied, lifting her voice so everyone present could not fail to hear her. “There is no reason for you to leave in anger or in doubt of my happiness.”
“She speaks true, Kintail.” The Raven appeared beside her. “Her night was a peaceful one.”
No longer mounted, he looked between her father and his druid. That one, too, had dismounted and now hovered at the Raven’s elbow. The ancient’s long flowing mane glowed white in the bailey’s torchlight, and he clutched his tall walking stick in a gnarled fist.
Her father glowered at them. “Then see you that all her nights are that, just!”
“I shall.” The Raven took her father’s hand in both of his, the gesture seeming to startle the older man. “I desire naught more than to know her well.”
“Harrumph!” Valdar whacked his thigh again. “ ’Tis more to desire than —”
“And I suggest we be on our way,” a deep voice interrupted him.
Sir Marmaduke again.
Mindful of her father as always, he’d surely recognized the telltale brightness beginning to show in the Black Stag’s eyes, and no doubt, too, the way he’d started blinking more than was usual. For all his scowls and bluster, no one was worse at suffering farewells.
Proving it, he arched a contrary brow. “We’ll leave when I am ready.”
“ ’Tis best to be away anon.” The Raven lost no time in siding with her uncle. “The mist through the glen will be at its lightest if we ride now,” he said, casting a glance at the hovering druid. “If we dally —”
“Since when did a bit o’ mist hinder a Heilander?” The Black Stag drew himself up, adjusting his plaid with a great flourish. “But I’ll no’ stand about saying soppy good-byes like a woman!”
The words spoken, he reached for Gelis, crushing her so hard against him she feared he’d cracked her ribs. But he released her as quickly, his misty eyes explaining the lack of a verbal farewell. Then he whipped around, vaulting up into his saddle before she could even catch her breath.
“We’re off!” he shouted, already kicking his heels into his mount’s sides, sending the beast racing for the yawning gatehouse pend. “Cuidich N’ Righ!”
Gelis pressed a hand to her mouth, her throat too thick to call out to him.
Not that he would have heard her.
The Black Stag was already gone, the echoing thunder of his horse’s hooves all that was left of him.
“He’ll be fine.” Her uncle slung an arm around her, pulling her close. “See that you are. It would break your father if aught happened to you.”
“Nothing will.”
Nothing except happiness, she added in silence, willing it so.
He gave her a quick nod. Something in his eyes made her think he’d heard the unspoken words. But before she could decide, he, too, was striding away.
Swinging up on his horse with no less style than her father, he whipped out his sword, raising it high. “Cuidich N’ Righ!” he yelled, charging after her father, his cry loud in the mist-hung morning.
“Save the king,” Gelis returned, her voice catching.
She blinked hard and swiped a hand beneath her eyes, somehow unable to see her uncle’s receding back as he rode away. Drifting wet mist dampened her cheeks, stinging her eyes and spoiling her view.
“They are good men. My sorrow, lady, that the parting is difficult for you.”
Gelis started, whirled around.
Hewas at her side again.
Magnificent in his black cloak, he towered over her, his midnight gaze much too intense and his proximity more than disturbing.
