Page 17

"Angels guard your rest," she whispered, kissing the child.

She considered lying down beside the babe to catch a few hours' sleep, but a strange restlessness gripped her. It had been a mistake to look back. It always was. She thought she had learned that lesson long ago. But perhaps it was easier than thinking about the man who had walked out of her Beltane dream into her husband's hall tonight. He could not be tucked safely into the past. No, Alistair Kirallen was very much in the present and all too real.

Taking her cloak from its peg on the door, she slipped down the stairs and past the hall. It was dark now and the only sound to be heard was the snoring of the men upon the floor. So many to be fed before they set forth! It was hardly worth the trouble of sleeping now, what with all the work to be started in just a few hours.

The thought of it made her head ache. What she needed was fresh air and quiet. Then perhaps she could order her thoughts and feelings into something approaching her usual resignation.

CHAPTER 7

Alistair lay full length on his side, cheek resting on one hand as with the other he tossed a pebble into the pool. He had found this place easily, his steps leading him down the path as if he'd walked it all his life. But even so he was still a little shocked to find it here, so exactly as he remembered. Just as before, the corbies had been waiting.

He glanced up into the darkness of the branches. "I hear ye," he said. "No need to make such a racket."

He was answered by a rustle of wings and a harsh croak.

"Aye, you're fine ones, are ye no'?" he said, rolling over on his back and crossing his arms beneath his head. "Plottin' and plannin' up there."

On impulse he pitched a pebble into the darkness overhead. He knew it was useless, but it still made him feel a little better.

"Ouch!"

He sat up quickly and peered back along the path. Then he smiled and lay back again.

"Did it hit you?"

"It did," Deirdre Maxwell answered. "I thought the sky was falling."

"Mayhap it will," Alistair said. "It seems these days anything might happen."

She hesitated on the edge of the treeline, her face hidden by the shadow of her hood. He was annoyed by her hesitation, though he knew she had good reason for it. Given all she must have heard of him, it was a wonder she had not already taken to her heels.

"Well, step out, lady," he called. "I willna bite."

"Are you sure of that?" she answered tartly. "I've heard far worse of you tonight."

She remained just on the edge of the clearing, every line of her slender body tensed, ready to turn and run at the slightest provocation.

"Aye, well, I'm sure ye did. But for all my wicked crimes, I'm no danger to the lasses."

"That's not what Jennie says," Deirdre answered. "She said you were a terrible—what was it? A doup skelper?"

"Who, me?" he said, startled into laughter. "Blether, pure blether."

"Hmm. Well, I heard you are a rare danger to anything in skirts—and harder to catch than any unicorn."

"Jennie said that?"

"You needn't sound so pleased about it!"

"Weel, lady, 'tis nice to know that someone remembers me as more than a banished man."

There, they had been said, the words that had been hovering between them. Deirdre took a step closer.

"Can you never go back again?" she asked.

"No."

"What did you do?"