Page 22 of Laird of Steel
His resignation troubled her.
“Ye know, for a fierce warrior, ye’re certainly quick to surrender when it comes to betrothal.”
“I’ve learned to choose my battles.”
She frowned. So he didn’t consider the matter of his bride a worthwhile fight. Bloody hell. If she’d known how detached he’d be about the woman he meant to marry, she wouldn’t have wasted time trying to mold herself into the wife she thought he desired.
She turned away so he wouldn’t see her hurt and frustration. Damn the Fates!Shewas special.Shewould have made him proud. She would have given him a brood of wee warriors. And she wouldn’t have required a steward and nursemaids to raise them. She would have kept him so well entertained, he might have sent someone else to fight the king’s battles.
Still, it was foolish to dwell on what could never be.
She was not destined to be Gellir’s wife.
But she could still be his friend.
Despite his fierce reputation, Gellir was still very much the kindhearted lad she remembered. Generous and giving. Always thinking of others before himself. Always sacrificing his desires for the greater good.
Such magnanimity had served him well. It had earned him the respect of his clan. The loyalty of his fellow warriors. The gushing adoration of lasses. It was his benevolence to her, a mere servant, that had made Merraid fall in love with him.
But the occasion of his marriage was no time to be altruistic. He deserved better. He deserved the very best. And if he didn’t know that, if he couldn’t see what an important choice this was, then it was up to her tomakehim see.
“At least promise me ye’ll take a look at all the blades in the shop ere ye settle on one,” she said.
After a moment, he asked, “Why do you care so much?”
She turned to look at him. His hair was drenched now to the blackest shade of midnight. It curled along the curves of his massive shoulders. His heavy brows were furrowed. Beneath them, his eyes shone as softly as burnished silver. A drop of water trickled slowly down his cheek to kiss the corner of his inviting mouth.
Her breath caught.
Because I love ye,she thought.
Instead, she told him, “Someone has to watch your back.”
He gave her a one-sided smile that went straight to her nether regions, flooding her with shame and desire.
“Fine,” he agreed. “I promise I’ll look at all the blades in the shop.”
She gave him a brusque nod. Now that she’d secured his vow, she muttered an excuse about serving at the feast and took her leave. There was no point poking the coals of forbidden fire.
For Gellir, the supper dragged on and on. By the third course, he knew Merraid had been right. As the meddling maidservant served smoked haddock to the guests at the high table, she gave him a smug look toproveshe’d been right.
True to Feiyan’s promise, Lady Forveleth was as pretty as a daisy. She had flesh as pale as cream and lush hazelnut-hued tresses. She possessed a musical voice, light and soft. Wide eyes of dark brown. A sunny nature and a bright smile. And as Gellir sat beside her, she touched his forearm with her delicate fingers as if they were old acquaintances.
But already her childlike helplessness was wearing thin.
She waited for Gellir to place her napkin on her lap. To cut her mutton. To beckon a servant to refill her cup. She even expected him to—God help him—feed her from his fingers.
She babbled on to everyone about her jewels and her gowns and her pets until Laird Dougal nearly dozed off.
Then, her eyes twinkling, she leaned toward a very disinterested Feiyan to share a bit of mischievous gossip about her six lady’s maids. Six! Gellir wondered wickedly if she had one maid to clean her teeth and another to wipe her arse.
Just as Gellir struggled to stifle a yawn, Merraid bent near to refill his cup, whispering, “Ask her about studyin’ Latin.”
He straightened. Ah, did the lady possess some intellectual curiosity after all?
He lifted his cup in a salute.“Mirum est quod discis Latine loqui.”
Forveleth looked at him with the glazed stare of a deer. “I’m sorry. I…oh, is that Latin? Faith, I have such trouble with Latin.” She giggled and bent near to confide, “Don’t tell my da, but I’m actually havin’ a servant take my lessons. What use will I have for Latin anyway? I’m certainly not goin’ to be a nun. And I’m sure my husband,” she said, coyly dipping her eyes, “will take care of any legal documents that require signin’.”
