He halted at the small voice, waiting for the caller to emerge from the trees. The sight of Daimhin in all her glorious regalia and gold chains immediately set him on guard. He was in no mood to see her or her brother.
“Daimhin.”
She smiled, lowering her eyes before glancing up at him again. “I’ve been seeking ye out.”
A provocative statement, or did he simply not trust her? Although he knew the answer, he would play along. He crossed his arms about his chest before answering. “And why would that be?”
The way her slow gaze swept over him might have been effective in the past, but there was no response in his body this time. He finally had Astrid. He had no need for another, although this sudden change in her behavior did raise his alertness. Daimhin had straddled his lap, pressed her breasts against him, and whispered how handsome she found him, but that had been in full view of all her clan. Now she was seeking him out in the dark? Alone? Not a good sign.
“I missed ye the last time I was here,” she said. “I did not want to miss ye again.”
“I’ve much to see to this night. Ye need to return to the others.”
Despite her hot gazes, she didn’t seem at ease as she moved in closer. “I’m… I’m uncertain how to return.”
The path from Diarmuid’s home to the rest of the village was intentionally hidden. The man preferred his solitary ways. And yet… Daimhin had managed to make it here just fine. Dare he point that out?
“Come!”
He passed her, leading the way back to the roundhouse.
“Wait!” Daimhin had to run to catch up with him, but he did not slow his pace. If she was still here, then her brother was still here. He needed to speak with Diarmuid as soon as possible so theriwould kick the man out on his arse.
Marcán turned on her, his head tipped in open annoyance. “Is aught amiss? Are ye not returning to the others?”
When the lass put her palm flat against his chest, he narrowed his eyes.
“And what are ye about? Touching me?” He lowered his gaze to her hand until she removed it. “If that is what ye’re seeking, ye best return home.”
“Seeking? I thought we might spend some time together.” She moved in closer, as close as she could be without actually touching him. “That ye might like to kiss me.”
She offered up her lips to him, closing her eyes, but he remained where he stood, his hands at his hips. “Ye were wrong.”
Her eyes flew open, full of shock. “Ye do not wish to kiss me now? Was it that very long ago that ye had yer hands all over me?”
“We were children. I didn’t mind groping what ye offered me. Why are ye behaving so?”
She heaved a sigh. “I like the look of ye, Marcán. I won’t deny it. Diarmuid was the one I’d set my sights on, but now he’s married.” She shrugged. “I’ve heard yer kisses could make an angel sigh.”
“An angel?” Marcán was aware of the rumors, but he was not interested in demonstrating. “Go back to yer brother and keep yerself for yer husband. Yer father will kick ye out of the clan if ye keep up like this.”
“He cares very little how willing the women are in our clan.”
“He’ll care aboutye.”
“Not if ’tisyethat takes me.”
He glared down at her, all but snuggling against his chest. “And why would that be so?”
“Because of who yer father was.”
Grabbing both her arms just above the elbow, he set her away from him. “Ye mistook the man. My father had naught to do with yers.”
“But Colmán is the very reason my father wants Pádraig to take Astrid to wife.” She offered him a dubious look. “Ye’ve never heard the story?”
His father had seldom spoken of his youth, but that was not surprising. He had become a great warrior, so all the stories he’d told were of his prowess in battle. The past had mattered little. Marcán merely shrugged.
She burst into a huge grin. “Ah! Ye have not!”
