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Spring had brought beautiful weather, and along with it a better chance for Peter Kilkern to make a move.
Reena hurried out of the keep, Horace close behind her. She did not have much time. She had already bade her parents and Justin farewell, and she had to see Brigid before she left. Early that morning Magnus had announced that they would take a few days to travel to parts of his land he wished mapped with more detail and that they would leave by midmorning.
She’d barely had time to pack a small satchel and say her good-byes. Brigid was the last one left to see, and then she would be ready to go.
Magnus and she would have collided had he not seen her rushing out the door. He braced himself and grabbed firm hold of her as she rushed into him, though Horace collapsed with a start against Reena’s legs. She was forever rushing. She was a small bundle of exuberant passion that simply could not be contained, and he found he did not wish to contain her; he wished her to remain free of heart and spirit.
“Are you ready?” he asked and frowned at the now sizeable Horace, who cautiously peeked out from behind Reena. “Still a coward.”
“I must bid Brigid farewell and then I am ready, and Horace is not a coward, he is a loving, thoughtful and true friend.”
“Do not take long, I wish to leave shortly, and Horace the cowardly dog will not be going with us,” he said and released her reluctantly. He watched her rush off, the dog taking a wide berth around him as he hurried along beside Reena. As usual, Magnus felt a sense of emptiness fill him. He had thought his pursuit of Reena would be easy. She was, after all, a woman, and women were not that difficult to understand. Show her interest, comment on her beauty, and a woman would respond. However, the more time he spent with Reena, the more he realized she was not like other women. Comments on her work meant more to her than comments about her lovely features. She grew thrilled when offered quills and paper but was less enthusiastic when offered fine gems. If the land needed scouting, she was quick to request permission to go so that she could accurately map the area.
She would forage in the woods for feathers to make her quills while other women busied themselves making candles or stitching. People interested her, and she watched them speak, walk, bend, move about, and she would reproduce their movements on paper, making them appear alive.
And her mind flowed as creatively as her hand, conversation with her never being boring. The more time spent with her, the more time he wished to spend with her, and he was surprised that by winter’s end he had not yet made love to her. It was not that he had not thought about it; she was constantly on his mind, and he constantly thought of her naked in his arms.
Nay, it was that he wanted more than sex; he wanted Reena tolovehim, now and always. He wanted her as his wife. He wanted to spend all the rest of their days together, have children and grow old together. He wanted her forever by his side.
He loved her that much. He could not say when he had come to fully realize his love. It had developed naturally, starting from a mere interest in a small wisp of a woman and growing into a love he would forever cherish.
How he would proceed from here he was not certain. That they would wed he had no doubt. She would love him; he would have it no other way.
He laughed to himself as he entered the keep. He knew full well that Reena felt the same toward him as he did toward her. He felt it when she melted in his arms or when she was left breathless from his kisses or the way she responded to his intimate touch.
They would wed; it was simple. After they returned from this short excursion he would see to speaking with her father and settling the matter. He entered the great hall feeling pleased with himself and issuing orders that departure time was within the hour.
Reena was breathless by the time she reached Brigid’s cottage. Horace raced forward, jumping up and down around Brigid, who attempted to pet the bouncing dog.
“I heard you are leaving for a few days,” Brigid said, giving Reena time to catch her breath. “And aye, I will look after Horace and your parents and be watchful and careful.”
Reena laughed. “You know me too well, though you did miss one.”
Brigid gave it thought and shook her head. “I can think of no other.”
“Thomas perhaps?”
Brigid gave a hasty twist of her head toward the cottage roof. “Shhh, he will hear you. He works on repairs to the backside of the cottage roof.”
Reena stepped closer to her friend. “Have you not made mention of your feelings to him?”
Brigid kept her voice to a whisper. “I know not what to do or how I feel. One moment I feel myself in love with him, the next I feel guilty for even thinking I could love anyone other than John, and then sometimes. . . .” She sighed heavily.
“You want him to hold you in his big arms.”
Brigid stared at her friend. “How did you know that?” Her eyes widened in realization. “You feel the same toward Magnus.”
“Minus guilt, add confusion.”
“And he toward you?”
“I think he loves me, but then I know nothing of love.” Reena sighed in frustration. “There are times when we have come close to—” She stopped, not certain whether to share the intimate details, then realizing she would learn nothing if she did not discuss it with Brigid, who was certainly more knowledgeable than she.
“Being intimate?” Brigid asked bluntly, making it less difficult for her friend to share.
“Aye, intimate, but love is never mentioned, and I know not what to do.”
“Do you love the Legend?”
