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She eased over, coming against his side. She laid her head on his shoulder and gingerly placed her hand on his chest. This, she decided, was something she could become easily accustomed to, this having Roland beside her, holding her against him. She sighed and nestled closer. His arm tightened around her back.
Roland frowned into the darkness. He appreciated her trust, but she didn’t have to flaunt it. Did she believe him impervious? “You aren’t my little brother,” he said, “so cease your wiggling about.”
“That’s certainly true,” she said, and burrowed closer.
“Daria, I’m not made of stone. Damnation, cease your wiggling.”
She grinned into the darkness. “But I’m cold, Roland.”
He fell asleep before she did, but he awoke quickly enough when she began thrashing about. He shook his head, shaking away his own dreams. He gently rubbed her back, then lightly slapped her cheeks. “Wake up, come now, it’s no time for a nightmare.”
She awoke with a start and lurched up, gasping. “Oh.”
“You’re quite all right. Hush, now.”
“It was awful, those men and that huge one, Myrddin. He touched me and—” She ground to a painful halt.
“You’re safe now,” he said again, his words slow and deep. “No one will hurt you.” His right hand was methodically rubbing her back. “I’ll keep you safe.”
It was dark, the middle of the night, and she gave voice to her bitterness. “You speak to me as though I were your child, Roland, but I am not. Of course you will keep me safe. You must have me alive, mustn’t you? Otherwise my uncle will give you no coin.”
“Quite true.”
“I’m an heiress. I’ll give you coin not to take me back.”
“Don’t be a fool, Daria. You have no access to your fortune. It is under your uncle’s thumb. Accept what is, what must be, and do what a female must do—that is, accede to your guardian’s wishes. You must be returned alive and a virgin.” The moment he said that, he clamped down on his tongue. Damned imprudent mouth. Mayhap she would be too embarrassed to question him; mayhap she wouldn’t have noticed what he’d said; mayhap—
She was fast as a snake. “What do you mean, a virgin? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I misspoke. Sleep now.”
“What, Roland? Do you mean my uncle cares about my maidenhood? As much as did the Earl of Clare?”
“Go to sleep.”
She slammed her fist into his belly and he grunted. He grabbed her wrists and twisted onto his side, facing her. He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her warm breath against his cheek. “I said to go to sleep, Daria. You will not question me further.”
“But you must tell me—”
“You don’t obey well, do you?”
“Tell me,” she said, her nose touching his. He remained silent. She continued slowly, “You mean my uncle stipulated I must be a virgin or he wouldn’t want me back?”
“Don’t be a fool. Be quiet.”
“If I’m not a maid, what did he say he would do?”
“All right, aye, he wants you returned a virgin. Are you satisfied now? Know, Daria, that you will be returned as much a maid as when you emerged from your mother’s womb.”
She digested his words, making no response. Because he didn’t know her well, Roland felt relief at her quiescence. He rolled onto his back again, bringing her against his side. “Sleep now, Daria.”
“All right, Roland,” she said, and her mind was racing with ideas. What would her uncle Damon do if she weren’t returned a virgin?
6
Roland pressed a gold coin in the prior’s hand upon their leaving the following morning. The old man clutched the coin, stared at Roland in surprise, then speeded them on their way with a comprehensive holy blessing.
It wasn’t raining and Daria breathed in deeply. “It smells so green and alive,” she said.
