As for her betrothed, regardless of his looks and solid reputation, she felt nothing for him but duty.
En route to the turret, she glanced around the large chamber at her father’s arms hanging above the hearth, the colorful banners displayed on either side, then toward the hewn arches that had fascinatedher as a child.
Along the wall hung paintings of her ancestors. Emotions storming her, she took in her father’s portrait. Sandy hair framed a striking face. Clear blue eyes like the depths of the sea held hers, that of a man confident of his abilities, a man who ruled with a fair but firm hand, a man who’d sentenced her to a life with a man she didn’t love.
Nor could she cling to her grief. Her father had made his decision out of concern. Aware of the heartache he’d suffered at the loss of her mother, she believed he hadn’t wanted Lathir to remain alone as he had, holding on to naught but a memory.
The soft slide of her slippers upon the curved stair echoed within the turret as she started up. Torchlight wavered upon the walls ahead, and she recalled being afraid of what lay beyond the fall of light in her youth, of how her father would take her hand and walk beside her to ward off the unknown.
Her throat tightened and she sent up a silent prayer for his safety.
Lathir reached the corridor leading to her chamber, started down. As she entered her room, she paused. With the strife crowding her mind, she doubted she’d sleep.
Throughout her life, when she needed to be alone, to think, to ponder a problem, she’d gone to the wall walk. There was something soul cleansing about standing upon the battlements and looking out.
On a clear night, she could lose herself as she stared up. The stars in the heavens shimmered so bright, ’twas as if she could reach up and touch them. ’Twas as if for a moment her problems disappeared.
But she was no longer a child who could lose herself in the wonder of the sweep of land or beauty above, but a woman with responsibilities, duties she must uphold.
The image of her signing the betrothal to marry Lord Torridan’s eldest son but hours before slipped through her mind.
Regardless of her desire for a life with Rónán, she must focus on the peace her agreement to marry brought to their realms, and the fact that united, the odds of finding and saving her father greatly improved.
Footsteps heavy, she retrieved her cape and hurried to the wall walk. If only for a moment, she wanted peace.
At the top of the steps, she shoved open the carved door. A light wind brushed her face as she went out into the night. A full moon rising in the east illuminated the land, casting silver shimmers on the snow as if magic dust had been tossed by the fey.
Magic, she scoffed. A foolish notion to enchant a child.
Lathir again looked around, saw naught but the night severed by the brutal sheen of the moon, molding shadows where danger could hide.
Her breath misted before her. With a shiver, she tugged the cloak tighter, walked to the corner, peered out.
In the distance, the hoot of an owl faded, replaced by the soft slide of cold wind through the trees.
“’Tis unwise to be without a guardat your side.”
At Rónán’s voice, joy swept her. Out of sheer reaction, she whirled and ran to him. He drew her into his arms and pressed his cheek against hers.
Within the silvery sheen of moonlight, sadness darkened his gaze as he stroked his finger against her cheek. “I didna expect to see you alone again.”
“Luck,” she said on a shaky smile, wishing for the thousandth time that a realm’s peace and her father’s life didn’t depend upon her marrying Lord Craigshyre. Then she and Rónán could wed,as they wished.
After a long embrace, he set her away from him. “’Tisna wise. ’Twould bode ill ifwe were seen.”
The ache in her chest intensified. He was right. Damning that he was now forbidden and, ignoring her body’s need, she took another step back, turned toward the loch. Shimmers of moonlight played upon the smooth surface in amacabre dance.
“I always used to love the night,” she whispered, her voice rough, “but now all I see are shadows.”
His boots scraped as he stepped beside her. “Aye, there will always be shadows, but regardless the danger, the unknown, beauty still exists. All you haveto do is look.”
The distant hoot of an owl filled the strained silence. “Where will you go once my father is rescued?”
He scanned the stars overhead. “To fight for King Robert.”
“And after our sovereign has eliminated the last of the resistance against his reign in Scotland?”
Rónán shrugged but didn’t look at her, as if it was too painful. “’Tis too far away to think of, or worry about.” He stepped back, offered Lathir his arm. “Come, ’tis time to leave. I will escort you below.”
