“I did no’ ken that was customary among the Caledonians.”
“It is not. She is a princess. I did not think her ill favored.” An open-ended invitation to Deathan’s opinion.
“Not did I.” Beautiful hair. And those wild, warlike eyes. Carefully, Deathan said, “Mayhap Rohr favors a different sort o’ lass altogether. Quiet and biddable.”
“We do no’ ken Princess Darlei is no’ that.”
Oh, Deathan knew. He knew.
“Rohr maun mak’ up his mind to it. As ye would, aye, if ’twere ye?”
If it were he.
Da looked at Deathan with rare approval. “If only ’twere yoursel’ set to wed the lass, I doubt I would ha’ all this trouble.”
If only.
*
Darlei forced herselfto stand still and endure it as Orle helped her into yet another grand gown, remaining motionless as the woman dressed her hair, struggling with the near-impossible task of coaxing it into some form of obedience. Her hair at least seemed bent on retaining its wild character. Whethershewould, here, remained at question.
She felt ill, stifled, as if fingers clutched her around the throat, cutting off her air. The big chamber, cool and dim, seemed far too removed from the life that might be glimpsed through the narrow window. One of the Murtray’s servants dropped off their breakfast, which Orle neglected while struggling to perfect Darlei’s appearance. A good thing, that shewould not have to face all the company at breakfast. A bad thing, as she could not possibly eat.
Orle’s efforts completed at last, Darlei crossed directly to the slit window, her hands stealing to her neck as if she would loosen a bond. Nothing there. The restrictions she felt were not physical ones.
Only, they were. For she would be kept here, would she not? Trapped in this place with no means of escape.
Cool autumn air poured through the window, though she still could not see much beyond a strip of sky. Despair hit her a terrific blow, and she clenched her hands to fists against the stone sill.
How had her life come to this? She had known, even if she refused to admit it, that Father would eventually choose a husband for her. She had thrust it from her mind, not having the same urge to wed as most young women. She had hoped—vaguely—her future husband would be a good man from one of the local tribes. A warrior, mayhap.
Like Urfet.
She might respect him. Perhaps be attracted to him, again like Urfet. Eventually become fond of him.
She did not expect love, as such. She did not know that she believed in it. Women fell victim to foolish infatuation, yes. She’d watched that happen often enough, and had watched it transform, over time, into either friendship or tolerance.
She had never anticipated this. An order from a king who was a Gael upending her life.
A husband at whom she would never have looked twice.
Or perhaps even once.
Her father would remind her she was a princess and would instruct her to behave as such, with dignity and acceptance. The trouble was, not only was she a princess, but Caledonian to the heart.
She did not want that to change. She did not want to become like these people here. Gaels.
Behind her, Orle laid aside her brushes. “Darlei?”
Darlei turned away from the window with its narrow illusion of freedom. “What did you think of the strange bed?” she asked her friend, employing a sharp edge of sarcasm. “I near thought I would suffocate.”
Orle gave her a doubtful look. She had tried hard to be Darlei’s strength since the news of the marriage had come down, and during the journey. Now she looked as low in spirit as Darlei felt.
Darlei had been thinking only of herself, but Orle too had lost all she knew and loved. She would stay here with Darlei when the rest of their party left. At least, Darlei prayed Orle would not refuse to stay, now that she saw what it was like here.
“Come,” she told her woman more gently. “Let us eat some of this food. There are no doubt many activities planned for the day, and I must appear well and strong, that I may impress these self-important Gaels.”
Not as a princess—nay, she did not care about that. But as a capable woman in her own right. One who did not need a man. One who did not need the husband being thrust upon her.
