Of course, to the women’s eternal frustration—and fascination—Gellir took no interest in any of them.He might be a model of chivalry, but he hadn’t become a champion by letting himself be distracted by female attention.Every moment he wasn’t waging battle in the lists, he was training for the next tournament.He lived, ate, and breathed knightly honor.
How unjust was it then that the glory-seeking Gellir should be rewarded with such a special prize of a bride?Gellir would have been just as content with a quintain cut into the shape of a woman he could joust against.He didn’t deserve Carenza.
And she didn’t deserve him.
Carenza needed someone who felt things as deeply as she did.Someone who shared her desires.Who understood her heart.Who appreciated her sensitivities.Someone who wanted more than a figurehead of a lady to bear his name and raise his bairns.Someone who appreciated her for the unique person she was.
Sentenced to a lifetime with Gellir, she would languish in loneliness while her husband pursued victory after victory.That was no kind of life for a creature like Carenza, who was made of passion and empathy and sacrifice.
Sacrifice.
Of course.
That explained her rejection that night.Her nonchalance.Her calm.The ease with which she’d accepted the king’s decree.
Like all his past lovers, he’d assumed she’d grown weary of him or had never been as deeply in love with him as he was with her.
But now he could see clearly.
She’d thrust Hew away from her to preserve his honor.Masked her own broken heart to save his feelings.In the same way she hid her sorrow and ire and grief from her father, she’d tried to protect Hew from her distress at the betrothal.She’d pretended to be amenable to the terms.Sacrificed herself to please those she cared about.Her father.And Hew.
He’d decided he couldn’t let her do that.
So he’d taken the honey to Dunlop.
Hoping for a chance to speak with her.To get to the truth of her heart.
What he would do with that truth, he wasn’t sure.
Perhaps they would still part, but on better terms.
Perhaps she would assure him she’d weighed all options and made peace with this one.
Perhaps she’d beg him to speak to Laird Deirdre and alter the terms of the marriage.
He didn’t rule out stealing her from Dunlop and carrying her off to be his bride.It was probably what Highlanders would expect from a warrior with Viking blood.
But he’d been too late.She was gone.
Now, if he wanted to ensure Carenza was content with her choice, he had to journey to Darragh and confront her in front of the man she was supposed to wed.
It was a daunting prospect.Not only would Gellir be there to argue his claim—and once he laid eyes on Carenza, he’d not give her up lightly.But his fierce cousin Feiyan and her warriors would likely back up Gellir’s claim to her.With weaponry.
Even worse, according to Laird Deirdre, they were to be married shortly after Beltane.The nobles of Rivenloch would be in attendance.They too would be fully armed.
As for Hew, he didn’t even have his trusty axe anymore.
Nay, it would be far better to visit her by stealth.To choose a time when he could slip in to the castle unnoticed.Which was why he planned to travel to Darragh over the next several days and seek lodging in the village nearby until Beltane.
On Beltane eve, the gates of the castle would be flung open.Clanfolk bearing great torches would roam the hills with lowing coos.Wild bonfires would light up the night sky.The glens would be filled with drunken revelry.And no one would take note of a cloaked stranger traveling on the road to Darragh.
Carenza sighed as she climbed back under the bedlinens and eased her aching head onto the bolster.
More than anything, she hated to be a disappointment.
Her betrothed, Sir Gellir Cameliard of Rivenloch, deserved better.
She’d been so sick since her arrival at Darragh, she’d spent several days in her bedchamber, making frequent use of the garderobe.
