Anyway, she had no time for men of any ilk. Was she not as busy here as she could endure?
No wonder she dreamed of running off to battle.
Cook was complaining at her again. “Och, nay, mistress. The chief has told me, stand ready to feast the entire troop o’ them yet, when word comes they are to march out. To gi’ them a braw send-off, like. I do no’ ken when. And am I to be ready at the drop o’ a feather?”
“Aye, so my father said that?”
“He did.”
“Well, we shall manage it. We ha’ the supplies.” She hoped. “We will sit down now and plan a set o’ courses that ye may prepare wi’out too much trouble, should the need arise o’ a sudden.”
Thus she remained trapped in the kitchen long, though her very spirit cried out to up and fly away. A new restlessness had come upon her, not unlike what she’d known in her youth when she’d beggedGeordie to train her, or at least run off with her to the hills.
Were her feelings now prompted by working with O’Hanlon? If so, she might be better stopping with the lessons. For she found this hard to bear.
Longing for something one could not have was always hard to bear.
She missed out on a noontime sup while making sure everyone else had what they needed, and then became caught up in a crisis at the laundry, where a leaky tub drenched her from the waist downward. By the time she ran up to her own chamber to change, it was nearly time for her to begin worrying about supper.
Where has the day gone?she wondered as she reached her door. Where did all the days go? She seized the door latch and froze.
The door of the next chamber along the passage, Geordie’s chamber that was, stood ajar. The harper was at practice there. Notes spilled through the narrow opening and caught her ear. Caught her.
An old song, it seemed to be, perhaps an ancient one. It twined up and down with beguiling brilliance, the notes like a language understood by her heart alone. The impact nearly sent her to her knees, and she remained so, not moving, barely breathing as emotions tore through her.
She knew that tune.
Aye, surely she did. He had doubtless played it while he told all those tales, for they had been sprinkled with songs, entwined with them. So hearing this now made her feel…
Och, as if she were back, almost, in the midst of those stories.
The man had magic in his hands. Och, aye, he did. What would it be like if he touched her with those hands? For her to lie naked beneath them. At once safe and vulnerable and cherished.
Madness.
She could not possibly feel that kind of desire for the harper.
She tiptoed to his door and stood looking in at him. A shamefulthing to do, peeping and spying, since he did not know she was there. She simply could not help herself.
She could just catch sight of him sitting near the window embrasure with his harp on his knee. Such a beautiful instrument it was, but at that moment no more beautiful than the man. He had his head bent to the strings, his hands flowing over them, pricking out those sad, plaintive notes like water dropping. Did he play of a far-off place? A far-off time? He did not see her, for his eyes were closed.
Lost in his own music, which just as surely pulled her in.
She did not want to stir from that place. She could have stood there forever, transported by grief and joy and the edges of memory.
By love.
What would it be, to be loved by such a man as this, who had so much wistful loving in his heart and enchantment at his command? She would never know.
Silent, she tiptoed away to her own chamber.
Chapter Twelve
Acertain measureof unease curled throughout the great hall that night. Finlay felt it as soon as he entered the room and set his harp against one wall. ’Twas as if the arrival of the Gallowglass troop had sparked a different energy—reminded the folks here, perhaps, that war still loomed beyond their jewel of a holding.
Folk seemed restless. They stood in groups and whispered to one another. Anders talked avidly to men Finlay recognized as his advisors. Had he heard from Laird Randolph, then? Nay, not possibly so soon.
Speculation, it must be. An act rarely reassuring to anyone.
