Faolán and her mother. Not the best combination. The two could easily light a fire under his sweet Astrid by their mere presence. He hoped she’d be strong against them, knowing now that she had nothing to fear, not with him supporting her.
Marcán dallied in hope of Astrid’s return, but after finishing the food and a second horn of mead, he had to admit she was not returning. He sought the refuge of the little building he now thought of as theirs. Mayhap he could get some rest with the memory of their lovemaking foremost in his mind.
A moonless night, the room was so black that he could not see his hand in front of his face. He closed the door behind him and felt along the walls, touching the stacked wooden barrels as he sought the spot that he’d cleared for them.
“Oomph.”
Marcán had hit someone with his foot. “Who is there?”
“Who do ye wish it to be?”
Astrid’s sweet voice was like a balm to his tired body, and he dropped to his knees beside her. The memories coming back, bombarding his senses.
“I searched ye out,” he said, his words breathy with desire.
“And ye didn’t find me.” She sounded to be sitting up now, a smile in her voice.
“Had I known ye were here, I would have come at once.”
“And that would have given me great pleasure,” Astrid said.
He reached for her.
“And what trouble is yer mother getting into now?” Marcán asked. An audible gasp. “I was but teasing. Certainly ye know she is no longer a problem for ye? Ye havemyprotection.”
Astrid flattened her cold hand to his cheek. “Andyehave mine.”
He smiled at the odd statement before turning her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Ah, my lovely Astrid.”
Her deep sigh spoke of contentment. “Happy I am that ye are here with me now.”
“As am I.”
With a hand flat against his chest, she urged him to the ground. “I have missed ye.”
Astrid rested her head against his shoulder and Marcán wrapped his arms tightly around his love.
“And this is where ye shall remain,” he said.
Her body tightened, but she kept quiet.
“Do ye fear discovery still?” he asked.
She nodded her head against him, the scent of lavender drifting to him.
“Ye have nothing to fear. Discovery will make everything fall into place.”
Her moist cheek brushed his hand when she leaned up to kiss him. He pulled her closer as if to devour her sweetness and she returned his kisses just as passionately. Breaking away, he stroked her damp skin.
“Why do ye cry?”
There was a long pause before she answered. “Because I am where I belong.”
“Ye are indeed. Now let me love ye.”
Astrid closed her eyes, determined to take in every detail of his lips on hers.
Despite her mother’s insistence, Diarmuid had neither agreed to give his consent nor to discuss Astrid’s betrothal to Pádraig. In this way, he had given her hope. He’d watched her closely while their mother had gone on and on about the rightness of the joining and how well Pádraig would take care of Astrid. As if he could see into her soul and knew this was not the way it should be. Mayhap for the first time, Astrid had truly felt the depth of her brother’s deep love for her as well as his wisdom. Wisdom all of the kings were said to possess.
