“Then go up to your chamber and lie down for a wee while.”
“I cannot. Too much yet to be done.” She searched Reagan’s tawny eyes. “Do ye know for certain when we leave?”
“Day after tomorrow, at dawn.”
Only two more nights, then.
His frown deepened. “Katrin, do ye still mean to accompany your father away?”
“Of course I do.” Would he start with his persuading all over again?
“Then ye must take better care o’ yourself. By God, woman, look at ye! A headless chicken would appear more sensible.”
“Insult me as ye will. It means naught.”
“I do not insult ye. Katrin. Katrin”—he snagged her gaze, which once more wandered across the yard—“I am concerned for ye. Can ye not see that?”
“Aye, so.” She puffed out a breath. “Ye ha’ been a good friend to me.”
“Friend. Aye.” He raised one eyebrow. “Even if I might have wished to be something more? It is for the harper ye search like a lost child.”
“I am no’ lost. I ha’ never been lost. I can make my own—”
“Choices and decisions, aye. And so it seems ye have done.”
Sudden, foolish, and quite unacceptable tears came to Katrin’s eyes. “There are but two more days.”
“Ye think he will not be here, when ye get back.”
“I know he will not.”
“Have ye asked him to stay?”
“I ha’, even though I ha’ no right to do so. No more than he has the right to ask me no’ to go south with the army.”
“Ye be a mad lass, do ye not know that? Any man would hurry to make ye promises, I do not doubt.”
“Stop wi’ yer foolishness.”
He heaved a sigh. “Get to your bed. ’Tis the best place for ye.”
Katrin could only agree.
*
Finlay paused onthe rise of land above the keep and let his eyes wander, taking in all the details of this place he loved. Evening fell swiftly, already gathered across the graveyard at his back and in the forest high above. He had tramped long this day, unable to linger in the settlement, to watch Katrin make her preparations to—as she thought—leave him. He knew he could ride her no further on the matter. He above all men understood her heart, knew that ever since she’d been a Caledonian princess, if not before, the best way to make her stubborn was to keep berating her about anything. A man could only use reason, or cajole, or apply kisses.
He had tried that last course of action, for the past two nights he had. He’d not changed her mind, only lost himself to her more surely. Surpassing even their past four lives together.
He could not come out and tell her what they had been to one another. She would never believe it. She had to remember for herself.
There had been moments during their time together when he believed she had come close. Yet still she carried on with her plans as if naught had changed. As if he, and what lay between them, did not matter. It stung.
He let his eyes roam over the keep below him, the clusters of stone huts all around, and the sea beyond. Emotions that felt very like homesickness stirred inside him. She knew if she went away from him—she might well not return. Aye, and a fitting enough answer to him might that be. How many times had he gone from her with a sword in his hand, and she not knowing if he would return to her? Once right here, at this very setting.
It was the reason she had asked him to be what he now was, not what he had always been. But did the ancient warrior not still linger inside him, like the remnants of a song? Did he still possess a warrior’s heart?
Mayhap, after all, they were not meant to be together in this lifetime.
