“’Twould be easier, Rohr, if the child has a father as he grows.”
“He will ha’ a father. And an inheritance.”
“No’ a legitimate one.”
Deathan thought Rohr might burst into flame at that.
“Pray,” Da said again, “the child is a lass. And above all else”—he drew a breath—“above all else, King Caerdoc canna be allowed to hear o’ this. D’ye understand me? No’ at any cost.Nor the princess hersel’. Now go ye fro’ me. Give me a chance to think wha’ I am to say to Caerdoc, to win ye a few more days.”
“A few more days,” Rohr muttered as he and Deathan left the tiny chamber. “Wha’ good will that do?” He turned his eyes on his brother. “And ye! I trusted ye no’ to tell him wha’ ye knew.”
“’Tis better out and known.”
“He does no’ care that his own grandchild will be set aside in favor of a pup got on a vixen.”
Deathan parted his lips to speak, but Rohr hurried on, “I should take Caragh and leave, is what I should do.”
Deathan’s heart leaped again, still more painfully. “And go where?”
“Anywhere. The world is wide.”
“Surrender your inheritance here?”Leave it for me?
Rohr narrowed his eyes at that. “Mayhap Caragh and I, wi’ the child, could return after a time. Once the Caledonians have gone and the king has forgotten us.” He fixed a glare to Deathan. “The place would still be mine.”
Aye, as—so it seemed—was everything of value.
Chapter Seventeen
Darlei feared theworst when her father called her to him later that afternoon. Some scolding, she supposed, for an unperceived misstep, all too perceived by their hosts. A further upbraiding for her behavior.
Instead, he told her that the wedding—her dreaded and misguided wedding—was to be delayed.
“Some matter relating to the health of the groom’s mother, so I perceive,” Father said.
“Mistress MacMurtray?” That did cause Darlei some dismay. “Has she taken a turn for the worse?” She should not care. Anything that put off the marriage was welcome to her. But she found she had developed a fondness for Mistress MacMurtray.
“I do not know,” Father told her frankly. “She is unwell but, it seems, wishes to gather enough strength to be at the wedding.”
“Oh, I see.”
“So we shall be staying a few days longer before we depart.” Father frowned. “I hope all is well with your mother at home.”
“Mother will manage wonderfully. She is a strong woman.”
Father lifted a brow. “You do not have to tell me so. I found that out as soon as I married her.”
Indeed, that marriage had been arranged, her mother born of a neighboring Caledonian tribe. But they had grown to care for one another.
Hence her mother’s entreaty—give it time.
Well, she had a few more days. A reprieve.
It had been a good day. She and Orle had spent part of it watching their men, including Urfet, tussling at games and informal contests with some of Murtray’s warriors. Deathan had not been there, but she had enjoyed marking Urfet’s prowess.
And in the afternoon they’d sat out on the hillside in the sunshine with that glorious seascape spread out in front of them, while the master harper, Coll, played for the company.
She had felt close to content. Almost happy. More so now with her wedding sentence temporarily lifted.
