“Forgiveness, please, Astrid.” Pádraig’s voice carried clear concern, and she searched his face for his sincerity without success. “There are many here this night, and I admit it tires me. I am not myself.”
Something told her his words did not match his thoughts. She swallowed again, unsure of herself, but they were finally alone. It was now or never.
“My thought was of our joining.” Her lips parted at the sheer lust now visible on his face and the wide grin that followed.
“As was mine!”
Holding up a hand to ward him off, she paused before continuing, no longer convinced herself that the idea was a good one. But if she went back to the hut now, Beibhinn would never let her hear the last of it…
“I was referring to ye taking me to wife, with the blessing of God and our families.” Regret bloomed in her chest at his crestfallen expression, but she couldn’t lose her courage now. She spoke even faster. “Surely ’twould be a good bond between our clans. My mother is from yer clan as well. She would like the idea, I am certain.” Especially since it had been her idea to begin with.
Pádraig’s face tightened, but she remained hopeful as she waited for him to respond. His gaze dropped to her bosom, caressing each breast with his gaze before continuing lower. Finally, he looked back up to her face. “I could imagine us wed.”
Astrid had imagined this moment dozens of times, but she felt none of the relief she’d expected. Instead, there was a surprising sensation of trepidation. What terrible thing was she getting herself into? He watched her now, his eyes narrowing.
“Is that not the answer ye wished to hear, Astrid?” He took a step closer. “I agree with ye. A good bond between my clan and yers.”
Whereas his closeness had set off sparks of excitement earlier in the evening, before their first kiss, she was feeling nothing but… stifled the closer he got. She swallowed and looked up at him. He stood that close.
“My mother is here now, and we could approach her with the idea… and yer father?” She hoped talk of the arrangement would keep him from touching her again.
Pádraig tipped his head. “Ah, my father is not well enough to hear of this. What of yer brother?”
“He has returned home, but we can speak of it to him on the morrow.”
The man puckered his lips in a thoughtful way, his brows lowering. “I do not know if that is the best idea.”
“Why ever not?”
He glanced back toward the longhouse. “One of the clans here tonight has a lovely young lass my father would like me to take to wife. I believe ye may have seen her? Curly red hair?”
“I thought ye said yer father was not well?”
“This is something he put his seal to before he took to his bed. If I am to approach him with another offer, I would need to have knowledge that only yer brother as clan leader could offer.”
Pádraig’s expression seemed pleasant enough, but she sensed his tension. Mayhap he was truly interested in a joining of the clans. Mayhap he was so eager for their clans to join together he did not wish to miss the opportunity.
“D’ye not agree?” he asked.
“With what?”
“That we should see yer brother now. Approach him with yer idea and see if he would consider it.”
Astrid glanced back toward the longhouse, the music and laughter spilling out.
“But we would need to leave at this very moment,” Pádraig pressed. “My father will make the announcement on the morrow.”
She whipped back to face him.
His brows raised in expectation. “D’ye not agree?”
Well, at least he wanted to know her thoughts.
She sighed. “Mayhap ye are correct. We should see Diarmuid before yer father commits ye to another.”
“Come.” Pádraig’s arm was a bit too tight around her shoulders. A strong sense of foreboding flooded Astrid. Damn Marcán for sharing his lurid thoughts.
Pádraig led her toward the stable, his pace fast and sure. He paused outside and offered an unexpected peck to her cheek.
