Page 92 of Bride of Mist
He let her up, but his eyes were still dancing with smug humor as she sheathed herbishou.
Damn the swaggering knave. That was the last thing she needed. He had an advantage now. A weapon he could use against her.
“Shall we go on?” she said stiffly. “I thought you were in a rush. Or would you rather wastemoretime grappling?”
The gleam that flashed through his eyes said he was imagining a different sort of grappling. Which made her color even more.
Hiding a grin, he offered her his hand, and she let him haul her to her feet. Avoiding his gaze, she brusquely brushed the leaves from her gambeson.
She was a fool to confess her feelings for him. But it was too late to deny what she’d said. The best she could do was hope he’d dismiss her blurted words as impulsive and empty.
Dougal couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said.
The man I love.
Was it possible she actually cared for him?
The idea was intoxicating. Though they continued along the path in silence, his mind buzzed with visions of a future that included Feiyan.
Waking up to her beautiful face each morn.
Kissing her soft lips every night.
Caressing her gentle curves whenever he wished.
Making love and bairns and a life with her.
And then the image of an angry mob of Rivenloch warriors arose to dash those dreams. Telling him he was a monster. A berserker. A Westland knave who wasn’t fit to polish Feiyan’s sword.
He sighed. They might be right.
Who was he, after all?
His clan was in chaos.
His brother had depleted the treasury.
Gaufrid’s army was being offered a reward to defeat Dougal.
The neighboring village had been burned to the ground on his watch.
And now it appeared there may be a plot afoot to destroy the clan from within.
Not only that, but the only time he’d met any of Feiyan’s kin was when he’d stormed into the middle of their playful melee, brandishing a deadly claymore and leaving the daughter of the laird for dead.
Nay, now was not the time to pursue the lovely warrior maid.
Later perhaps, if by some miracle he managed to untangle the threads of intrigue…remove the blame from mac Giric…make amends for the havoc he’d wrought at Creagor… If he proved himself a capable, principled, worthy husband…
It seemed an impossible task.
Despite her best intentions, Feiyan couldn’t stop thinking about her reckless feelings for Dougal.
Ofcourseit was naïve of her to imagine he’d feel the same way just because he’d swived her. With his handsome face, tempting form, and winning charm, he’d probably trysted with a hundred lasses. None of them had been so foolish as to believe they were in love with him.
She sighed. As Sung Li said when Feiyan went through difficult times, this was just another trial, one that would harden her for battles to come.
Meanwhile, she’d try to steer their conversation to more pressing subjects. There were still questions about Kirkoswald that needed to be answered.
