Page 134 of Laird of Steel
She’d lost her illusions of belonging years ago. Knowing she would never fit inside the noble mold, she’d learned to be content with simply making her mark. With impressing those who dwelled within that world with her learning. With her skills. With her clever verse and her surprising strength. And that was enough.
At least shethoughtit was enough. Until she gazed into Gellir’s loving eyes, melting now like liquid silver as he smiled at her.
Then she knew her heart would ache for him forever.
Forever she would remember his tender kiss. His gentle touch. His passionate embrace.
He had been her first. And she knew somehow he would always be her best.
I adore you,he’d said, pinning his heart upon his sleeve for her.
But one of them had to see reason. One of them had to be strong. It was up to her to break the bonds between them.
She kicked at the turf, saying flippantly, “Ye won’t adore me if I’ve started a clan war, will ye?”
“Maybe,” he murmured.
She didn’t dare meet his eyes or she’d be lost. Instead, she picked up Adam’s overstuffed satchel, which he’d left behind, and changed the subject. “Are ye hungry?”
“I wouldn’t turn down a crumb.”
She tossed him the satchel. “’Tis Adam’s. I’m sure there’s a crust o’ bread in there, somewhere among the lockpicks and trebuchets.”
He smirked. “Adam’s strange hoard is the subject of much discussion at Rivenloch.”
He dug in the satchel while Merraid watched for the king’s arrival.
“Ye know,” she said over her shoulder, “ye shouldn’t have written that missive to Feiyan. Ye shouldn’t have taken the blame.”
“Better the fault should lie with me than with Hew.”
“No one in your clan believes you’ve gone off to sow your wild oats.”
He sniffed. “I just need Carenza’s father to believe it.”
She nodded. She suspected as much.
Damn his eyes. Gellir was too good for his own good. He would rather ruin his own reputation than sully the good names of Hew and Carenza or risk the honor of Rivenloch and Dunlop.
“What news of Hew?” he asked around a bite of bread. “Did he return?”
“Nay.” She turned to him. “But he sent a missive. He said he found Carenza. And that she was safe.”
He chewed and swallowed the bread. “He’s not going to return her then.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I suppose he means to reunite her with her lover.”
Gellir shook his head. “Hew’s soft heart will be his undoing.”
There was a long silence before she murmured, “And what about you? What about your heart?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “’Twas never mine to give. You know that. I am a vassal of the king.”
She bit her lip, holding back her opinions about a king who would wield such power over his subjects. Then she lifted her eyes toward the palisade gates. There he was now. Malcolm. Joining the earls to hear Adam’s missive.
“He looks small among the others,” she remarked. Though he was about her age, Malcolm was no taller than Fertech and as thin as a maid. He seemed only a young lad in his father’s clothing, with a crown that was too heavy for his head.
Gellir rose to follow her gaze. “I suppose he is.”
