When he turned back toward the hut, Astrid dropped out of sight. She dared not even breathe, expecting him to appear at the door at any moment. Marcán had seemed a bit out of control just now. A shiver of something she couldn’t name traveled over her skin. Was it fear? But she would never fear Marcán, no matter how he acted.
She glanced at her mother’s sleeping form, a dark bump covered with heavy wool. Her back to the door, the woman slept like the dead. Oblivious to all around her now, but she had encouraged Astrid to stay for the feast and entertainment. She’d even told her to enjoy herself, which was very odd for the woman to say. Astrid’s pleasure was not something Beibhinn ever gave much thought to.
Pádraig had lied to Marcán. She had never asked to see any hot springs. She’d asked only if they could speak alone.
It would be best if Astrid just did as Marcán had told her she should. She was here, so why venture out again? She scratched at her head, surprised to find her hair such a mess, then suppressed a yawn.
Pádraig’s earlier interest in the redhead with the curly hair and bright green eyes came to mind. The woman was beautiful, and she’d definitely returned his gazes, even kissing him!
That was the way of the Meic Murchadha. Pádraig’s sister had straddled Marcán’s lap earlier, and the man had barely flinched. Astrid had expected some kind of reaction, but instead he’d just held Daimhin’s gaze, his hands at his sides. Astrid had half expected her to kiss Marcán. That would have gotten a reaction, for certain. He probably would have dumped her right off his lap. Instead, Daimhin had moved in closer, said something to him, then climbed back off. Very strange.
Astrid couldn’t be certain who had initiated the kissing between Pádraig and the redhead, but he appeared to be quite good at it. Remaining just inside the open door, she’d watched them, imagining it washerPádraig was kissing. It would have been a very enjoyable kiss indeed.
She sighed.
Astrid touched her lips. She’d never been kissed by a man before. Well, she’d had to kiss Marcán once in a game of Pull the Ribbon, but that didn’t count. He’d looked so irritated… When he’d leaned in close to her, she’d almost been afraid to let their lips touch, his eyes had been so dark. He hadn’t wanted to play—in fact, he’d tried to talk Diarmuid out of it. This was back before Diarmuid had becomeri túaithe,when their father was still alive.Astrid assumed the whole game had only been started because her brother had wanted to kiss one of the lasses.Thatkiss had lasted quite a while.
It had been so irritating to sit and watch that she’d rolled her eyes and looked toward Marcán, expecting to see the same reaction. She’d found him watching her instead, that darkness still in his eyes. Diarmuid should not have insisted that he play. Marcán had not been happy about any of it. She hoped Pádraig would be much more agreeable to both the idea of kissing her and their union.
What she needed was to have a forthright conversation with him tonight—a discussion of how their match would bind the two clans together. Certainly heshouldagree with her. She smiled. And then she would be the one receiving his attention and his kisses.
That was the reason she’d approached him. It was why she had agreed to take a walk with him when he’d offered. Despite what he’d told Marcán, he had not asked her if the other three could come. She’d been trying to think of a way to speak with Pádraig privately and then Marcán had shown up.
When her mother flipped onto her back, Astrid gasped. Offering a prayer, Astrid slowly rose and stood beside the opening. There was no sign of Marcán, so she grabbed her mantle, ready to head back to the main house.
“Well?” Her mother’s tired voice startled her. “Were ye successful?”
Astrid let out a slow breath to calm her racing heart. “I did not know ye were awake.”
Beibhinn would not speak again until Astrid answered her. That was the way of it with her mother.
“Pádraig did notice me and I spoke to him.”
Beibhinn did not sit up, and her chuckle had a strange, throaty sound. “I am duly impressed then. Ye have done something right, daughter.”
With slow, controlled movements, the woman rolled over to lean on an elbow. Astrid’s breath caught at the cruel lines on her mother’s face. “Then why are ye here instead of with him?”
Explanations and excuses spun in her head. None would be acceptable to her mother. “I tried to speak to him alone, but the other men—”
“Othermen?”
“Pádraig invited others to join us. Some men. I did not know them.”
“Men from the other clans, no doubt.” Beibhinn sat up, blowing out an exasperated breath. “We may be too late. If ye had explained yerself—or used what little bit of attraction ye have—we might have stood a chance.”
“But I thought ye said—”
Her mother halted her words with a raised hand. “Do not make excuses now. Ye had the perfect chance to win over the man, and ye failed. I need to think.”
Astrid stood there, afraid to even sit beside her mother when Beibhinn was this irritated. With a small voice, she voiced her defense. “I approached him. Boldly! I even asked him if we could speak.”
The memory of the sudden interest in the man’s eyes came to mind. It was as if he’d seen her for the first time. He’d studied her body for a long moment, and his smile of approval had given her a heady sense of power. Her mother had been correct. A man could easily be led if a woman went on the offensive, using any weapon she had.
“Then what went wrong?”
“Well, he insisted we should take a walk and grabbed my hand.”
A slow smile started on her mother’s face.
