She swiped at a drip of sweat slipping down her face and then another slipping between her breasts. “No.”
Marcán continued to watch her hand. “Did ye hear what we spoke of?”
“Let it be, Marcán! She’s like a little rat sneaking in where she doesn’t belong.”
“Ye underestimate yer sister.” Patting the empty bench beside him, he said. “Sit!”
“Enough, Marcán.” Diarmuid directed his anger at his friend, but his friend never flinched. That intrigued Astrid. She couldn’t remember Marcán ever losing his control.
Marcán’s eyes did not leave hers, not even when he spoke to Diarmuid. “Ye make me even hotter with yer growing irritation. Calm yerself.”
“I am for the shade of theráth,” Diarmuid said.
“The animals are hot, so the stable is hot!” Astrid spat the words at her brother, who just shook his head.
That got her a chiding expression from Marcán, and her face heated. He had included her and even stood up for her. Then she had immediately acted like the child her brother thought her to be. Mayhap Diarmuid was correct about her. When she turned away, Marcán put a finger to her chin and gently turned her face back to his.
“When the men are returned, I am going to the lough, Marcán. Mayhap when ye are done here ye will join me.” Diarmuid delivered the words like an ultimatum before he huffed off.
Astrid scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.
Grinning, Marcán said. “Is that a show of proper respect ye give yer brother?”
“He does not deserve my respect.”
He held her gaze. “Every warrior deserves respect from ye.”
Astrid stopped just short of rolling her eyes, and he smiled as if he knew that. She remembered the warm feeling that had bloomed in her chest. She’d liked that he knew her so well he could guess what she was going to do.
“Can I come to swim at the lough with ye?” The words tumbled out before she’d given them enough thought, but she wiped at the sweat dripping from her chin. And waited for his answer.
He dropped his head, the first time he’d stopped watching her. His wide expanse of chest grew even wider, and when he looked up again, he had a hard expression. Tight. As if he were flinching. Uncomfortable. He must have realized Diarmuid would not be happy with him if he said yes to her.
“Ye best not, Astrid. Not this time.”
So she did roll her eyes and didn’t care what he thought about it, but he surprised her by reaching out to caress her cheek. His eyes intent on her.
Now, all these years later, Astrid put light fingers against her cheek, imagining his caress again. Suddenly overly aware of everything around her and at the same time nothing at all, she saw again that intent gaze on Marcán’s face, the way he’d glanced at her lips. The way he’d looked at her that day…
Her jaw dropped.
Reality slapped her in the face.
When he’d glanced at her lips, she’d assumed it was because he saw crumbs. She’d wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Astrid had a hard time catching her breath.
She was truly an idiot. And Marcán?
“Oh.” She groaned, standing alone in the yard while everyone else went about their duties.
Marcán had wanted to kiss her.Shewas the girl he’d mentioned—the one he fancied. The thought sent heat rippling through her innards.
Only she had badly misunderstood him at the time. Diarmuid treated her as a nuisance more often than not, and she’d assumed his best friend felt the same way—at once fond and annoyed.
She had been too young to understand his feelings.
Her mother told her often enough how demanding husbands could be. Her advice was that it was best to marry a warrior since he would spend much of his time away.
