“Did ye ever tell yer father that we met before?” he asked. “Did ye tell him about the bird eggs?”
He was changing the subject, back to days that were happier for the both of them. Isadora snorted softly. “Are ye mad?” she said. “If he knew what I was doing when we first met, he’d blister my backside.”
Cam’s lips twitched. “Then if ye dunna behave yerself, I will tell him.”
“Do ye threaten me, then?”
“Not if ye dunna give me a reason tae.”
Their conversation had gone from deeply serious to humorous in a matter of seconds. It was like a weight had been lifted and they could both breathe. This was the Cam that Isadora knew before the destruction of Netherton, the man who was open and friendly and sweet.
Only you.
This was her Cam.
“No promises,” she said. “And ye know that if ye tattle on me, my retribution shall be swift.”
“I wouldna expect less.”
She smiled and, this time, he smiled in return. Isadora felt a tremendous amount of relief in that small gesture.
“Ye still owe me the bird eggs,” she said. “And not chicken’s eggs, either. I’ll not let ye forget that.”
Cam chuckled in spite of himself. “It has been a long time since I’ve gone hunting for eggs,” he said. “My grandfather gave up keeping birds long ago.”
“Too busy?”
“His smithy stall was always busy. Sometimes we’d work well intae the night.”
“Was yer da a smithy, too?”
“Nay,” he said. “I never knew my da. He was a Northman.”
Isadora blinked in surprise. “A Dane?”
Cam nodded. “He was from a place calledKonghelle, a prince of his people. They came tae raid Netherton and he fell in love with my mother, but I never knew him.”
Isadora was fascinated. “I’ve never met anyone with Northman blood in them,” she said. “What a pity ye never knew him.”
“He and my mother were never married.”
The fact that he was a bastard made no difference to Isadora. She was far more interested in the fact that he was the son of a prince.
“And yer mother?” she said. “She must have spoken quite fondly of him. If he loved her, surely she loved him.”
“So I am told,” Cam said. “I never knew my mother, either. She died when I was born. I was raised by her father.”
“Then we have something more in common.”
“What?”
“I never knew my mother, either. She died soon after I was born.”
Cam simply nodded, falling silent as the room around them was a steady chorus of hacking and snoring. Isadora sat next tohim, not wanting to leave him even though it was very late. She was close enough that she could touch him, discreetly, and she did, running her fingers up and down his forearm in a caressing gesture. When her fingers drifted down to his hand, he clutched them tightly.
“’Tis strange that I find myself in this life,” she said after a moment.
“What do ye mean?”
