“I had a meeting wi’ the chief.” Ardahl laid aside his weapons and ducked back out to wash. She would follow. She usually did.
In the soft dark around the side of the hut, he could barely see the basin. He could barely see Liadan when she joined him, but he could well feel her there.
“I missed ye.”
It had become their customary, if private, form of greeting. This time, though, she moved into his arms.
“Liadan, nay.”
“No one can see. Hold me. For a moment. Just hold me.”
He did, the need within him arising in answer to her own. Like something precious, he gathered her to him, her head to his heart.
“Liadan.” He said it hoarsely. “We must no’—”
“’Tis too dark, I tell ye, to give us away. And I need, I need—”
She kissed him, a simple press of lips to lips with nothing simple in it. And aye, desire came leaping on the heels of that more fundamental wanting, pure and powerful, enough to shake him to his toes.
Such a need as this—what did it mean? How might it be answered?
The kiss lasted forever, and not long enough. He moved away from her, backing off like a man on the edge of a cliff.
She pressed her back once more to the side of the hut. “How was your day?” she asked on a note of teasing, mocking herself for asking something so ordinary after that searing embrace.
“Interesting.” He stripped off his tunic and splashed water over himself. He did not want to tell her what he must.
Yet he must.
“I—we—leave in the morning for Brioc, that Chief Fearghal might talk wi’ Chief Brihan concerning his betrayal.”
She went dead still. No need for her to speak. Ardahl could feel her emotions all too clearly.
“I do not know how long we will be gone. Two days. More. Ye will look after Mam while I am gone?”
“Why ye?” It came as no more than a whisper in the dark.
“The chief has requested it. Because I saved his life on the field, he wishes me at his side. Master Tierney and Cathair come also.”
“Cathair! But I do no’ trust him.”
“Nor do I. ’Tis no’ myself, though, doing the choosing.”
“Can ye no’ persuade Chief Fearghal ye would be better here?”
“I canna.” He said it flatly so she would not hope. She needed to accept his duty.
“Come morning,” she whispered.
“Come morning,” he answered.
“Should somewhat go wrong there among strangers—”
He laid aside the cloth. “I shall have to lay down my life for my chief. So I am sworn.”
When she said nothing, still pressed there against the wall, he stepped up and took her shoulders between his hands.
“Liadan, I want ye to know… An honor it has been to be here wi’ ye, in Conall’s place. Ye have changed my life. Changed me.”
