He wanted to say,Come wi’ me and I will hold ye. Cherish ye. Worship ye with my heart and my body, and my soul. With every bit o’ me that has ever been or ever will be.
But he could say none of that. Instead he told her, “But ye canna come awa’ wi’ me.”
“I do no’ suppose I can. Duties, as ye say. I belong here.” She made an effort to speak lightly as if striving to relegate what had just happened between them to unimportance. “I could no’ break my father’s heart.”
“To be sure, no.”
“And—and a wandering bard canna stay at one hall forever.”
Finlay pulled on the oars. “Else, he would no’ be awanderingbard.”
Dare he tell her he would give up all that for her? Put down roots in the rocky soil. Sacrifice whatever she asked. Change his way of life.
He had been wandering their world, aye, for but one reason—to find her. Having done so, why would he stir?
Lest she bade him.
She it was who must choose. Who must remember.
He rowed slowly and steadily, the way he’d once rowed to Erin, and back again to fight for Alba. As he’d once rowed his princess, showing her the place he loved. He rowed them back from the depths of time.
The people on the shore pretended not to watch. But they scrambled when the wee boat came in, laid hands on the hull and drew them onto the shingle.
An older fellow, mayhap one of her father’s friends, was there and gazed at Katrin in concern.
“Mistress, are ye quite well?”
“Aye, so.” She leaped from the boat with alacrity. “I wanted only to show the master harper our holding fro’ the sea. Before he moves on fro’ us, I mean.”
“Aye, so.” The man looked uncertain.
“Come, master harper,” she called to Finlay. “I do no’ doubt we shall be late for supper.”
He followed her, as he had forever vowed to do.
Chapter Nineteen
As Katrin soondiscovered, the men on the shore, or at least Robran, who was sworn to his chief at the heart, must have run to Da and told him what she had been about. Taking a boat out to sea for no good reason. With the harper, no less.
As a consequence, Da attempted to speak with her several times before supper. She avoided him by pretending she had duties to which she must attend, hurrying around the hall. She did not feel like making explanations and moreover did not like feeling required to provide them.
The experience out on the water had affected her deeply. Shaken her profoundly. She was a woman who liked to keep her tasks in a line and her world under her thumb. The time on the water had challenged all that.
No matter. She could beat it all into submission again. Be the strong woman she was.
But och, she did not expect her reaction when next she saw the harper. They had gone their separate ways after climbing up from the shore, he to his chamber and she to the kitchens. He entered the hall quietly, as was his way, while still she saw to the preparations. When she turned and beheld him—it felt like being struck hard beneath the breastbone, and it cost her all her breath.
He wore his green cloak, the one that matched his eyes, and had braided the silver sigils back into his hair. He looked composed and self-effacingand—
She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted it so much she ached.
What had come over her? Had she indeed gone mad out there on the sea?
It just went to show her that giving in to impulse was never wise. No wonder she so seldom did that. She wanted to blame him, or rather his stories. For giving her such ideas.
But nay, she was woman enough to fault no one except herself.
Curse it all, though. Every time she so much as glanced at him, she craved the taste of him. She wanted the feeling that had assailed her when she was in his arms, all over again.
