“Aye, an ancient song, that one.”
“Where did ye learn it?” She still held his sleeve as if anchoring him to her. It made her feel a fool, but she could not quite let go.
“I canna answer that, mistress. It seems I ha’ always known it.”
“How curious.”
“Aye, is it no’?”
“Now I come to think on it, it seems ye played that song—that tune—during each o’ yer stories. Mayhap that is how it got so deep in my head.”
“Mayhap so.”
He turned to face her. She moved likewise, since it seemed she could do nothing else.
His eyes were very green in the strong light. He looked like a figure out of one of his own stories, almost too beautiful.
She released his sleeve, but her hands—both of them now—continued to reach out. He clasped them.
It felt the most natural thing in all the world.
“Mistress,” he began.
She interrupted him. “Ye will no’ leave Murtray, will ye? Ye will no’ go awa’ too soon?”
“Yer father has asked me to stay.”
“That is well. Because—well, things are so uncertain just now. I feel as if my life is being torn up by the roots. And your music does serve to soothe me. I do no’ think I could manage wi’out it.”
“I am glad of that.”
“It brings peace. And in a time of upheaval, a woman does need peace.”
“So she does.”
There was a certainty about this man, she thought. A serenity. A strength. Why had she ever thought strength came only behind a sword?
“Mistress,” he began again.
“I suppose”—her tongue tripped over itself now—“’tis madness for me to ask it o’ ye. That ye should stay, I mean. Be—be there for me. I scarce know ye.”
“Do ye no’?” Something bright and magical stirred in his eyes.
“Well—” She did know him, did she not? Somehow.
Madness.
His hands tightened on hers. “Rest easy in yer mind. I will be here for ye.”Always. Did she hear that word tacked on? Did he speak it? Did it sound only in her head?
He then did a curious thing. He lifted each of her hands in turn to his lips. Kissed not the backs of them but the palms. Deep, warm, fervent kisses. He leaned in and lightly—so lightly she could not object—kissed each corner of her mouth, both cheeks in turn. He dropped a last kiss onto her brow.
Katrin came apart inside. She could describe it no other way. It feltas if her very soul shattered and left her reaching—reaching for something she could barely see but needed most desperately.
If she did not hold to him, she could hold to naught.
Blindly, she clutched his arms. Gazed into his eyes. The world tilted and she saw…
His soul.
