Something she had forbidden him to be.
If so, he did not want to know. He certainly did not want to see her in the Gallowglass’s arms.
Instead of following them, he returned to his chamber and raged at his unseen companion. Terrible thoughts beset him. A storm of loss and longing.
He did not attempt to sleep, fearing his dreams. Instead he paced the floor until all but one candle snuffed out.
Only then did he hear a knock at his door. Who could it be, in the midst of the night?
He swung the panel open and his heart leaped painfully. Katrin it was who stood there. Katrin, in her nightclothes, a look of concern on her face.
“Master harper? Is all well?”
She did not wait for an answer but slipped past him into the dim chamber. She glanced around as if she too expected to see her brother, before she turned to face Finlay.
“Are ye ill?”
He shut the door very carefully, scarcely believing she was here with him.
“Nay, mistress. Why should ye think so?”
“I could hear ye. Walking and walking about.” She jerked herhead. “I am right next door.”
“Och, by heaven. I am that sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to plumb the depths of his feelings. She wore a gown of white with her feet bare, and her hair hung loose in a glorious fall of ashen blonde over her back and shoulders that made Finlay ache to touch.
He fisted his hands. She may have just come from O’Hanlon. From lying with him.
Hoarsely, he said, “I did no’ mean to disturb ye.”
She sat on the bench that faced the fire, which, neglected, had nearly gone out. With visible irritation, she took the poker and assaulted the embers.
“Ye are usually such a quiet guest, I scarcely ken ye are here. That was why I thought—” She caught herself and returned her gaze to his. “I could feel somewhat amiss.”
Finlay spread his fisted hands, forcing himself to ease. “I am but restless, mistress.”
“Ah. I suspect we shall soon lose ye after all.”
“Lose me?”
“Men such as yoursel’ do no’ stay in one place long. Ye will ha’ the itch, no doubt.”
“I do no’ ha’ the itch.” Except to take her in his arms, kiss her until she begged him to carry her to the bed—ghost or no. To make her one with him and be damned to the world.
But she might already have made her choice.
“Come.” She patted the bench beside her. “Sit and tell me wha’ it would take to persuade ye to stay a while longer.”
He perched on the bench. “I ha’ told yer father—and ye—I will stay.” Could he bear to, though? If she and O’Hanlon began a courtship—
“Aye, yet I feared ye had changed yer mind. I am glad. We are in need of peace, and ye can provide it.” In defiance of her words, shesprang to her feet as if she were now the one beset by restlessness. She prowled the room, picking up and setting down the possessions that had been her brother’s.
Finlay watched her, helplessly admiring the strength and beauty of her movements in the thin white gown.
She paused at his harp, which he had set beside the wall, and reached to touch the strings reverently. A shimmer of sound came to life in the air.
“I ha’ always wanted to play,” she confessed, “like Bradana, in your story.”
