Page 28 of Laird of Steel
“Mm.”
“Sometimes I wish I could do that,” she murmured. “Leap from the cliff…and just disappear.”
Gellir heard the despair in her voice. Yet there was nothing he could say to make things better. Nobles lived in an unwavering world of inflexible rules. Neither of them could wed for love.
“You and I are pawns in a royal game,” he said. “It seems neither of us is fated to follow our hearts.”
Despite her bravely raised chin, her eyes welled with tears.
While the others were distracted, releasing their falcons, he took her by the shoulder. “Promise me you won’t leap from a cliff.”
When she turned to him, it was with a mask of courage. An expression she’d probably spent years perfecting. “Never fear,” she said. “’Twill pass. It always does.” She sniffed back her tears and confided, “Perhaps I’ll find a husband who’s as disinterested in me as I am in him.”
Laird Dougal suddenly cried out, pointing to his falcon. “Look there!” The bird swooped upon on a seagull and was bringing it to ground in a tumbling flurry of wings.
The conversation between Gellir and Margaret was forgotten as everyone’s birds began to hunt down prey, stalling and diving as gulls scattered across the sky and crabs skittered along the shore.
But Gellir knew from that moment he could never wed Lady Margaret. Knowing how she felt, he could never force himself upon her. And he would cut off his right hand before he would compel her to bear his children.
Merraid watched from the afternoon shadows of the courtyard wall as Gellir bid Lady Margaret farewell at the mews. She chewed at her lip, wondering what had happened.
Margaret had taken a keen interest in Lady Feiyan of late, more than friendship. The situation was awkward enough that Feiyan was compelled to avoid her to prevent a misunderstanding. Now Merraid feared Margaret might view wedding Gellir as a way to get close to his cousin. No doubt Margaret would be heartbroken to discover her new bridegroom intended to convey her to his home on the east coast of Scotland. A hundred miles from the lady she loved.
Once his gyrfalcon was returned to the mews, Gellir took Lady Margaret’s free hand in both of his and spoke to her a long while. Merraid wished she could hear what he was saying.
At last Margaret nodded, and Gellir released her to place his left hand on her shoulder.
Margaret lifted her head proudly.
Gellir extended his right hand.
She extended hers and gave his hand a firm shake.
Then they parted ways.
The moment Margaret disappeared out the gate with her peregrine, Gellir turned and saw Merraid.
As he neared, she emerged from the shade. “How did it go?”
He raised a brow. “I think you know how it went.”
“Ye were kind to her.”
“You seem surprised.”
She shrugged. “There are those who would condemn her.”
“She’s already condemned,” he said. “Condemned to marry someone she cannot love.”
Merraid nodded. She didn’t mention that he might be in a similar predicament.
“Speaking of condemned,” he added, “what’s wrong with my next marriage hopeful?”
As she circled the high table at dinner, refilling the guests’ cups with mead, Merraid knew full well the risk she was taking. She’d told Gellir she didn’t know his next prospect well. But Lady Affraic’s servants frequented the market. She’d had an earful from them.
The woman was of a suitable age and not uncomely. Her pleasant features were framed by a curtain of wavy brown hair. Frown lines were etched between her brows. But at the moment she was smiling. And her dark eyes showed intelligence.
She spoke easily with Gellir and his cousins, who seemed glad of her company.
