Page 64 of Laird of Steel
“Merraid.”
She startled. Gellir must have followed her from the field. She bit her lip. She didn’t want him to see her weeping.
“This isyourfault, ye know,” she blurted.
“Myfault?”
She turned away and began to trudge up the steps. “Ever since ye returned, the clan has been obsessed with matchmakin’ and marriage.”
She heard him mutter on the step behind her, “At least ’tisn’tyourmarriage they’re obsessing over.”
“Aren’t they? After all, Lady Feiyan has decided I should be wed as well.” A knot of sorrow rose in her throat. She dared not turn round and look at him. She’d burst into tears.
“Is that so awful?”
“’Tis—when ye’re a maidservant who wields a sword.”
He grabbed her arm to turn her toward him. “Listen to me. Henry is a fool. Any other man would consider himself lucky to have you.”
The fierce, honest, blind sincerity in his eyes broke her. Her chin trembled, and her tears spilled over. Then, against her better judgment, she blurted out the truth.“Haveme, perhaps. But there are no men who couldloveme.”
Gellir felt her despair as if it were his own. It wrenched at his heart.
How could she think that? Surely it wasn’t true. Did she not know what a lovely prize of a lass she was?
A dozen of her virtues sprang instantly to mind. Virtues he could recite off the top of his head. Merraid was kind. Sweet. Strong. Beautiful. Loving. Generous. Amusing. Bright. Graceful. Hard-working. Clever. And so much more.
He should say so. He could vanquish the desolation in her eyes by telling her exactly what he thought of her.
But that would be a mistake.
He had to keep his distance. Bite his tongue.
Showering her with praise would only complicate things.
Still, as he watched a devastated tear roll down her cheek, he knew he had to say something.
He brushed the droplet away with his thumb. “Listen, Merraid. We’re not so different, you and I.”
She sniffed, giving him a dubious look. She dragged the back of her hand across her nose.
“’Tis true,” he said. “The more prospective brides I meet, the more convinced I am I’ll ne’er find a woman I can love. Not truly. Not deeply.”
“Are ye daft?” she asked. “They’re clamorin’ at your feet. Beggin’ for your attentions.”
He shook his head. “They love theideaof me. Marrying a tournament champion from a powerful clan. Becoming the lady of a castle with a laird close to royalty. Ne’er lacking for coin or status or worldly goods. They love theidea.But they don’t really know me.”
“Ye’re so much more than your wealth and position,” she argued. “Given time, the right woman would discover that.”
He halted her with an upraised palm. If she started spilling outherlist ofhisvirtues, she’d make things worse.
“I don’t have the luxury of time.”
“But why?” she asked in irritation. “What’s the bloody hurry? What secret have ye been keepin’?”
He sighed. He supposed he owed her the truth. “Can I trust you?”
“With your life.”
