He could not. Her feelings for him had been too real, too vital. She clung to the thought of him, held as tightly as she did to the memory of Deathan MacMurtray’s smile, while she fell asleep. Her sole comfort in a difficult world.
She and Orle had become accustomed to taking their breakfast in their own chambers, the hall being always in disarray from the previous night’s feasting. That next morning, Darlei wanted nothing to eat and told Orle, who nibbled at a barley cake, “I am going out to take the air.”
Orle dropped her cake hastily. “Hold for but a moment, and I will come with you.”
“No need.”
“Darlei”—Orle popped up like a bunny from its burrow—“there is every need after what happened yesterday.”
Darlei gave an impatient sigh. Intolerable, being hedged round this way. “I will stand right outside. I want only to breathe in the morning.”
“I will come.”
Orle had not yet dressed her own hair nor Darlei’s. She snatched up a shawl and followed her mistress out.
The morning felt cool and carried a definite whiff of autumn. Back home, Darlei loved this time of year, when the colors of the leaves changed and the very ground grew crisp beneath her feet. She loved the scents that blew in from the far hills and the way the year pared itself down, preparing to die—year after year died, and always in the spring was reborn again. Was it so for people also? Did life follow life, and might one, perhaps under a spell of music, catch a glimpse of a time that had come before?
“Daughter, what are you about?”
She jumped when her father spoke. He had emerged from the keep with Urfet at his shoulder.
“Naught, Father. I wanted only to see the morning.”
He fixed her with a stern look. “You will not wander off on your own again.”
“To be sure not.”
“Chief MacMurtray is taking a party of us hunting this morning.”
Darlei lit up. “Wonderful! I may come?”
“I am afraid not. This is a party of men only.”
“But at home, I always accompany you.”
Almost gently, he said, “You are no longer at home, daughter. Best to make up your mind to it.”
“Father, that is a thing I do not believe I can do.”
“Best try. Your future happiness relies upon it. I am certain there will be compensations. Children, for instance. You might best lay aside your wild ways in favor of motherhood.”
She did not want to lay aside her wild ways, and she most certainly did not want to bear Rohr MacMurtray’s children.
She tipped up her chin. “I mean to visit Mistress MacMurtray this morning. I will just take the air first. Good hunting, Father.”
Her father did not argue it. Urfet gave her a knowing look and a wink before the men walked away.
“Darlei,” Orle said, “mayhap it would be better to be more…accepting and less defiant. It will make things easier, surely.”
“Yes, Orle. No doubt it would. But easier is not always better.”
Easier might well cost Darlei her spirit.
They paced sedately around the settlement, taking in the sights. A large place to be sure, and a busy one. Everyone seemed to have a task, and to be engaged in it.
The sea…
Well, if ever there were to be a compensation for what Darlei could only call her imprisonment, it must be that. It called to her. Lifted her. Made her long to go wandering again.
