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She nodded again, and this time, a single tear rolled down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb, his palm cupping her jaw as his fingers disappeared beneath her hair. Her skin was so soft. He took an unsteady breath, willing himself to take a step back. Now. Before it was too late.

“I will watch for you,” she whispered. “Every day.”

His heart pounding, he drew her closer. He hadn’t truly wanted to retreat. He knew that. But was this what she desired? Lowering his head, he hesitated one excruciatingly long moment, and when she did not pull back, he brushed her lips with his. Her breath caught, but then she leaned into him, and his lips sought hers once more.

She smelled of thyme and some other flower she must have been gathering recently, and she fit in his arms as if she were always meant to be there. He pressed her closer, losing himself in the deepening kiss. And then, somewhere nearby, a cockerel crowed, announcing the beginning of a new day. Slowly, reluctantly, Brecc relaxed his hold on Aisley. She took a stumbling step back before raising her head to meet his gaze. Soft color tinged her cheeks.

He smiled gently. “I believe that irritating bird was determined to wish you good morning.”

“Good morning?” She gasped and turned away. “I must go!”

“Is there somewhere you must be straightway?”

“Yes. No.” She started toward the path, and Brecc hastened to follow after her. “I do not suppose we are the only people in the vicinity to have heard the cockerel’s wake-up call. If I am not in my chamber when my mother and sister arise, they will want to know what I was about, walking the grounds so early.”

“I see. And am I to gather that you are not well versed in dissembling?”

“I am not,” she admitted, the color in her cheeks deepening. “And there are some things I would rather not share with them.”

Admiring her wisdom, Brecc offered her his arm. “Come,” he said, picking up his pace. “You shall be there before the troublesome cockerel crows again.”

CHAPTER 13

AISLEY PAUSED AT THE DOOR, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the longhouse. Humped blankets covered each pallet. A light snore and an occasional sleepy murmur were the only sounds. Hardly daring to breathe, Aisley crossed the floor on stocking feet. Releasing the clasp on her cloak, she draped it over her pallet and slipped beneath the fabric.

The beams of daylight illuminating the chinks between the shutters were brighter now than they had been earlier. It would not be long before someone awoke. Especially if the cockerel continued his alarm. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the commonplace scene in the longhouse so she might relive the wonder of her experience outside.

Brecc had kissed her. She ran her fingers gently across her lips, recalling the thrill that had coursed through her when he’d drawn her close. Being in his arms had felt so right. She swallowed the lump in her throat. He had promised to come to Trowbridge, but she knew the king dictated Brecc’s movements. Brecc might be delayed for months, and if Wulfhere’s determination during their last conversation was any indication, he would make good on his threat to have her married before then.

She willed her tears to stay away. Her mother might notice if she’d been crying, and she could not use the cold outside as an excuse. If Wulfhere or her mother were to ever find out what had transpired between her and Brecc . . . She clenched her fists. Neither of them must ever know. Nor Diera, for that matter. Her sister was incapable of keeping a secret. This would have to be a sweet memory she kept to herself.

“Aisley?” Diera’s sleepy voice was barely coherent.

“Yes.”

“Is it morning already?”

“It is.” And had been for some time.

Diera groaned. “Why does it always come so early?”

Aisley smiled into the semidarkness, grateful for the extra hour she’d been gifted. “I fear you will have to ask someone far cleverer than I to receive a good answer to that question.”

“If you two do not cease your chatter, you will make enemies of all the other ladies in the longhouse.” Their mother was not one who arose with a cheery disposition.

“I apologize, Mother,” Aisley whispered.

“As do I.” Diera paused. “Do you think we can stay abed until others have risen?”

“Yes.” The rustle of their mother’s pallet suggested she was settling into a new position. “And I do not wish to hear another word from either of you until then.”

Brecc wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and surveyed the fresh gouges in the pell. Slashing at the inanimate object with a wooden sword had not been nearly as satisfying as pinning Rheged to the floor, but Rheged’s refusal to enter into another practice bout with him had remained firm. And Brecc had been desperate.

“Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?” Rheged stood leaning against the barn wall, his arms folded.

“No.” Brecc sheathed his sword and swiped at his brow again. Like Aisley, he was disinclined to share their private moment together with anyone else.

“The threat of a Viking attack?” Rheged was undaunted. “Word on the river? A rather lovely copper-haired distraction? Ormod’s lack of bathing? Or something else entirely?”