“Gaelan,” Edrea repeated. “A Celt from Devon. I noticed you watched him too.”
“‘Too’?”
Edrea giggled now. “Look around you.” She indicated in particular the sewing area. “Even Lady Darrelle stares at the man.”
“Why?”
“Why? You jest, Kristen. He has a face made in heaven. Why else do you stare?”
“I only wondered who he was and what he does here,” Kristen said testily. “I thought we were done with strangers coming here.”
“As to why he is here, milord has retained him. He will work on the wall with the others.”
“Aye, he has the body for such work.”
“Indeed.” Edrea sighed.
“I thought you held a tender for Bjarni.”
“I do.” Edrea smiled blushingly. “But if the Celt would notice me…” She sighed again. “But then, I have the same problem. He does not speak our tongue, and though many here can speak his, I am not one of them.”
Eda came over to scold: “Edrea, make haste and help Aethel set up the tables. Gossiping does not get work done. And you, Kristen, finish shelling those peas.”
Kristen grabbed the old woman’s arm before she could turn away again. “Eda, did you notice the Celt?”
Eda looked across the hall to where Gaelan sat. “Aye. You cannot help but notice him, as big as he is.”
“But I thought only the Cornish Celts were giants, and you said Royce is enemies with them.”
“True, but this one is not from the Cornish coast. And there are exceptions everywhere as to the size of a people. Look at Lord Royce in comparison with other Saxons, but he is a Saxon true.”
“I suppose.”
Eda’s eyes narrowed. “I see you are interested, but you would do well to quell that interest immediately. Milord would not like it at all.”
“Royce does not—”
Kristen grinned, the wordsown medying in her throat. Roycedidown her and she should worry about his likes and dislikes—as long as it suited her. But she was not really interested in the Celt, not as Eda meant. She just wanted to see his face.
“Your warning is taken, Eda.”
“Good. And now the peas, ere they have not the time needed to cook.”
But not five seconds after Eda turned back to the hearth, Kristen deliberately moved the heavy cauldron of shelled peas to the edge of the table, where it balanced precariously for half a second. When it crashed loudly to the floor, peas rolling out like a green carpet toward the hearth, her eyes flew not to the mishap she had caused, but remained fixed on the Celt.
His was not the only head that turned at the sound of the crash. But his was the only one Kristen saw.
“God’s mercy, wench!” Eda exclaimed behind her. “What ails you to be so clumsy today?”
Kristen did not even hear. Her eyes were locked with gray eyes she had never thought to see again. A strangled sound came from her throat, escaping through the hand that covered her mouth. Her other hand pressed against her breasts, for her heart pounded so it hurt. It could not be true! God help her!Selig! Alive!
She rose from her stool to go to him. He rose from his chair to meet her halfway. At the exact same moment they both came to their senses and stopped.
Kristen swung around, her hands now gripping the table behind her to keep her there. Alive! Her eyes closed tightly. Really alive! She breathed deeply, fast and hard, to try to stop the urge she had to scream, to laugh, to cry.
She couldn’t go to him. God help her, she couldn’t hold him in her arms. To do so would have him locked away with the others. Yet joy washed over her in rapid degrees and she thought she would burst from it.
She finally noticed Eda staring at her in bewilderment. On an impulse she leaped forward, grabbing the old woman off her feet and swinging her round and round, laughing at her shrieks. She could laugh at that. She had to have this excuse to laugh. Oh, God, her brother was alive!
