She hoped so. She tossed her head. “And modest, above all.”
“Let me tell ye a wee secret, mistress.” He bent to whisper into her ear. “When ye have somewhat to boast about, there is no need to keep silent.”
Ah, Katrin thought as he too walked away toward the head table where her da waited for him—if she’d met Reagan O’Hanlon ten years ago, or even five, things might have ended far differently.
But Geordie had been alive then, and she was sure he would marry—just as soon as all the fighting was done, as he’d insisted it was unfair to leave a wife with young bairns to go off to war, and the succession secured.
She might well have tumbled head over heels for Reagan.
And then what? What, when the harper turned up? Ah, well, she was too old for all that nonsense now, was she not?
She spent the better part of supper on edge, for Finlay joined them at the head table and she remained so aware of his every word and every gesture, she could not relax.
Not until after the meal, when he took up his harp, did the tension flow away from her, as she surrendered to the beauty. To the magic.
He played and sang several songs of love, which tugged at her heart. He followed those with the promised march, a tune so bright and strong that at its finish everyone applauded spontaneously and Reagan rose to his feet to bellow his approval.
“A man of great talent, the harper,” Reagan rumbled to Katrin after he sat back down.
He certainly was.
The training session that took place later, behind the armory, started off awkwardly, some discomfort lingering from their last meeting. It soon wore off, for Reagan worked Katrin hard, only telling her when she protested, “If ye insist upon bein’ battle ready, I will make sure o’ it.”
He made no attempt to touch her again, nor to approach her in any way that was not part of the instruction. All business, was the Gallowglass this night.
The harper, though, remained on Katrin’s mind. Perhaps that was why, when they parted, she asked, “What do ye think, then, o’ the harper’s march?”
“A grand tune. I was much pleased.” Reagan crooked a brow at her. “What do ye think o’ the harper?”
Katrin went away without answering.
Chapter Sixteen
Finlay paced hisbedchamber that night and once more spoke to the spirit that inhabited it, albeit in a distracted fashion.
“Wha’ does it mean? Wha’ for me? For her. For the turning o’ the wheel.”
He had not meant to follow Katrin when she left the hall at the end of the night. Indeed, he’d come up to his chamber and put away the harp, then decided on impulse to take the air before attempting to sleep. For all he’d known, Katrin was in her own chamber by then. But descending the stairs, he’d glimpsed her clad in her long cloak, leaving the hall and proceeding out into the dark. He had seen who it was waited for her there, inside the gate.
The two of them had come together, naught more than shadows. Katrin had touched O’Hanlon on the arm. They had walked off together quickly and silently.
The emotions that struck Finaly at that moment could not be described. A patient man, and one not often prey to anger, he usually proved able to master unwieldy emotions.
Not this time.
Jealousy, hot and raw and entirely violent, assailed him without mercy. The two of them looked like a pair headed for an assignation.
Was she lying with him? With O’Hanlon?A warrior.
He’d noticed her attraction to the man. He could scarcely miss it. He’d striven to understand. O’Hanlon was the kind of man to whom any woman might feel drawn. Not just a warrior, but the consummatewarrior. Confident. Handsome.
Finlay had not imagined that could come before what lay between him and Katrin. And given their encounter on the heights this morning…
It felt like a punch to the gut. Like a thrashing.
He might have followed them, he supposed. They would not have been able to see him in the dark. But he would not so lower himself. Was this not about Katrin’s choice?
Perhaps she had chosen. A warrior. Something she knew. Something she trusted.
