Page 98 of Bride of Mist
She lowered shy eyes and bit her lip, tracing the middle of his chest with the tip of her finger. “I was afraid if we didn’t take it, we’d ne’er be alone tonight.”
An eager, pleased smile blossomed on his face. He took her hand to lead her to the stables.
Feiyan hated lying to him. She wished she could say he was the reason her pulse was pounding. But the truth was her heart raced, not in lust, but in alarm.
If Gellir was here, Rivenloch must have sent a force to Darragh after all. How many others were nearby? Did they intend to launch a surprise assault on the keep? Or did they mean to lay siege? Would they try to negotiate for peace? Or was this a mission of pure revenge?
Her first instinct was to announce her presence and call them off. But she couldn’t do that without full knowledge of what had happened at Kirkoswald.
It was too difficult to explain to her kin why she hadn’t killed Dougal mac Darragh on sight. How they were working together. And what sort of treachery was afoot in his clan.
At the moment, she needed to build allies on the inside. It was impossible to determine who would side with Dougal and who would remain loyal to Gaufrid when the mac Darragh clan was forced to choose.
She had to intercede ahead of time, before Rivenloch did something drastic. Figure out what had happened and who was at fault. Who deserved a second chance. And who deserved to die.
And she had to go alone.
Dougal would disapprove.
Which was why she wasn’t going to tell him.
She’d steal away in the night. Right after she gave him a swiving that would leave no question as to where her heart lie.
As it turned out, trysting in a barn wasn’t so bad. It was dim and quiet and not as foul as she’d expected.
One kiss from him, and she forgot all about the pair of oxen lowing in their stalls.
One caress of his hand, and the clucking hens faded into the background.
By the time they reached the pile of clean straw, the piglets snorting in the corner didn’t matter. She tore off his gambeson, and the sight of his chest straining against his leine made her forget about their humble surroundings.
Their desire burned hot and fast, like a field fire in summer. The flames of passion leaped high and raced swiftly. Setting their hearts ablaze. Forging their two hearts into one. Purifying their spirits.
When they collapsed together onto the bed of straw, sighing in satisfaction, reveling in their reward, she didn’t even mind that a goat wandered up to sniff at her hair.
But as the dust settled around them, he murmured three words that left her heart both thrilling with joy and aching with shame. “I love ye.”
Her throat caught. Her eyes filled. She longed to whisper a sweet reply in his ear. Return his affections. And reassure him of her love. But she was too moved by gratitude to answer. Too choked by guilt to speak.
By the time the knot of tears in her throat loosened, he was already deep asleep.
Wearing remorse like a yoke about her shoulders, she slipped out of his embrace, dressed and armed herself, and set off without him.
Dougal had claimed to love her. But would he ever forgive her?
The next morn, when Dougal woke, he had a smile on his face before he even opened his eyes. He’d never been happier, sprawling in naked splendor in the bucolic comfort of a barn, with Feiyan nuzzling his hand in affection.
After their scorching tryst, he’d slept like a rock. No nightmares had invaded his sleep. He hadn’t even roused enough to bother putting his leine back on.
But now he heard voices approaching from outside. They needed to get dressed.
“Quick, lass,” he said, blinking his eyes open. “Someone’s comin’.”
When he rolled over, expecting to see the drowsy maid, a wee goat bleated at him instead.
“What the devil?” he growled, clambering back and wiping his wet hand on the straw.
The lass was gone. Her clothing was missing. Her weapons were nowhere to be seen.
