Page 74 of Laird of Steel
He moved the page up so he could continue writing. “Flocks of sparrows,” he echoed as he transferred her words onto the page.
She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth. Good verse was like effective fishing. The lady had been lured with compliments. Now it was time to set the hook with subtle seduction.
“I long to take your hand and hold ye near,” she said, running a fingertip along the top of a barrel.
He raised a skeptical brow, but she nodded.
When he finished, she continued, ambling thoughtfully toward the door. “To whisper words dispellin’ all your fear…”
He wrote the line. Then he rested the quill in the ink bottle to flex his cramped hand. He obviously wasn’t in the habit of writing long missives. Picking up the quill again, he told her, “All right.”
She leaned back against the door, letting the words spill directly from her heart. “And murmur soft devotions in your ear…” she choked out.
“In…your…ear.” He seemed to copy the words by rote, paying little heed to their meaning. She supposed that was just as well. “Aye?”
“In breathless wait,” she murmured, “for what my heart would hear.”
Her eyes blurred as emotion washed over her. Merraid knew exactly what her heart wanted to hear from Gellir. That he didn’t care what king and clan demanded. That he loved her. That he couldn’t live without her.
But those were words Gellir would never say. And if the truth be told, his uncompromising sense of chivalry was what she loved best about him. She wouldn’t have him any other way.
“Is that all?” he inquired after her long pause.
“Oh. Nay.” She pressed her palms into her eyes, scrubbing away the burgeoning tears. “Let me think.” The hook was set. Now came gently coaxing the fish out of familiar waters. Into his waiting hands.
“I long to make ye mine,” she said, her voice cracking as she added, “my dearest heart.”
He hesitated, then whispered, “You don’t think that’s too…” He grimaced. “Too intimate?”
She shook her head. He’d be swiving the lady within the fortnight. If he thought herversewas too intimate…
He inked the quill. But he looked uneasy as he transferred the personal sentiments to the page.
She turned away, facing the door, and crossed her arms protectively over her aching heart. “’Tis anguish…every moment we’re apart.”
The air was so still, she could hear the scratching of his quill as it carved her feelings onto the parchment.
“Go on?” he said.
She swallowed back her sorrow and continued. “Since ye alone have power to make me whole…”
He silently recorded her words. “Aye?” he breathed.
She let out a soundless sigh and finished the verse. “I pray ye spare my poor tormented soul.” She kicked idly at the barrel nearest the door, mumbling, “That should do it.”
He didn’t reply until he’d penned the final word. “Good,” he murmured. “If this doesn’t convince her, nothing will.”
Forcing a shaky smile to her face, she put away her strained emotions. Just before she could turn toward him, she heard a scuffle of retreat beyond the door. Someonehadbeen there.
Behind her, Gellir came to his feet. “Was that…”
“Shite,” she whispered, trying to recall every incriminating word she’d said.
“Do you think they heard—”
“Nay.”
She said it as much to convince herself as Gellir. If someone had been listening, they probably couldn’t make out her words through the door. Or if they heard her words, they wouldn’t recognize her voice. Or if they knew it was Merraid, they’d never guess who she was addressing.
