“What should we do to celebrate?” she asked when she left her father and shared the news with Orle outside.
“Shouldyou celebrate?” Orle asked cautiously. She had spent a woeful amount of time earlier eyeing not their own men, but certain among the Gaels. Could she truly be attracted to any of them?
Of course, if Orle were to stay here with Darlei, she would eventually marry a Gael—were she to wed at all.
Darlei wanted to visit Mistress MacMurtray and make certain she was not unwell, but that might be better left for morning.
“I feel I must. I know what we shall do. There is a trail that runs along the shore. Let us explore that.”
“Should we?” Orle asked again. “After what happened this morning?”
“This is to be my home. Surely I have leave to explore it.”
Orle appeared dubious. She ran off, though, to change her slippers, which she did not want ruined.
Darlei, who gave not a care to her slippers, refused to wait.
The residents of the settlement once more watched her as she made her way down to the shore. It was the same back home. Everyone knew where the princess was and what she was doing, at most any time. But there she could escape. Take Bradh and go for a wild ride. Hike by herself into the forest.
What did these foolish people think she was going to do? Cast herself into the sea?
It was an idea.
Perhaps an ultimate course of action, later on, when she found herself wed to a stranger. After her father left, abandoning her here. When she discovered she could not endure taking Rohr MacMurtray to her bed. Bearing his children.
A thought came into her head: it would be cowardly of a Caledonian princess, taking her own life. But a kind of last hope to tuck away, yes.
A path led away in both directions from the trail that ended down at the sea. When Darlei reached it she stood looking. To her right, the path led to a series of sheds, and she could see people working.
She turned left.
She would walk but a short way beyond the curious eyes and wait for Orle to catch her up.
But oh, being alone here—with the waves sucking and clawing at the shingle, the sky endlessly blue, and the seabirds wheeling above—brought her back to life. A different sort ofwildthan when she ran off on her own back home, but healing all the same. She drew a salty breath and felt her anger, fear, and distress abate.
Perhaps she could endure this after all.
Her feet found their own way in and out of the foam. The tension left her shoulders. The rolling of the waves on the stones was like music.
Deep in her mind she heard someone say,We are like these two stones, aye? Together on the shore for a time—
It took her a moment to grasp that the quick pat-patter meeting her ears was not part of her thoughts, or a movement of the clattering stones. She turned to look back.
The strong sunlight half blinded her, so she saw only an approaching shape. A man, it was, loping toward her.
She wanted to run also, away from him up along the shore. But he came far too swiftly, and once he neared enough for her to see his face, she no longer wanted to flee.
He looked a beautiful sight, his body all in motion, strides swift and graceful, hair lit by the sun. Something clenched her heart, hard. As if her past ran to her and her future both.
This moment, it will change everything.
She stood with her feet in the foam and the hem of her gown wet when he reached her. He wore a look of concern on his face.
“Princess, wha’ are ye doing here? Are ye lost?”
“I do not believe so.”
“Ye should no’ go walking out on your own.”
