скачать книгу бесплатно
She didn’t answer him, and he sighed, releasing her. ‘One of the ringforts was attacked, near the coast. We need to ensure that the raiders don’t come near us.’
‘As you say,’ she murmured, her voice unable to conceal her frustration.
He touched her cheek. ‘Just a few more weeks, Iseult. If you’re not ready to give up, we’ll continue your search.’
Behind his promise, she sensed his reluctance. Though he would never say it, this was another man’s child.
‘Until later,then.’The liefelleasilyfrom hermouth, but inwardly she intended to keep searching. She’d wait until Davin left and travel east, closer to Trá Li. Though she didn’t like the idea of going alone, no one else would help her. They, like Davin, believed she should give up.
‘Come and dine with my family tonight,’Davin urged.
Iseult dreaded the idea of sharing a meal at the chieftain’s table. She avoided it whenever possible, but she could not insult them by refusing.
‘You should go and see Kieran now,’ Davin said, kissing her. ‘Make sure he’s begun the carving of you.’
‘How do you know he has any skill at all? I’ve yet to see him lift a blade to wood.’ She disliked being the subject of such scrutiny, especially from the slave. He was unpredictable, fierce, and not at all humble.
‘You should see this.’ Davin reached into a fold of his cloak and withdrew a carved wooden figure of a boy. Iseult held it in her palm, struck by the intricate facial expression. The carved boy held the innocent wonder of early adolescence, coupled with a trace of mischief. When she ran her thumb over the piece, she understood what Davin had seen in it. This was a carving created by a master. ‘Was this his brother?’ she asked.
‘I suspect it might be. He wants it back, and I have promised it to him, in exchange for your likeness. If he completes the dower chest to my satisfaction, I will grant him his freedom.’
She handed the carving back to him. How could a man with such hatred in him create a work of beauty like this? Lost in thought, she was barely aware of Davin’s departure.
An hour later, she stood before the woodcarver’s hut.
Kieran sensed Iseult’s presence before he looked up from his work. The light floral fragrance surrounded her, like a breath of spring. It made him edgy, being around this woman.
At least she was betrothed to his master and was completely beyond reach. He could ignore the unwelcome awareness because of it.
‘Davin asked me to come and see that you’ve begun the carving,’ she began, stepping across the threshold without waiting for an invitation.
Of course, she had that right. He was a slave, and she would become his mistress soon enough after she wed Davin. His skin prickled at the invasion of his privacy. He preferred working alone.
He set down the gouge and flicked a glance at her. By the Almighty, she was an exquisite creature. Her light golden hair held the faintest touch of fire. It hung down to her waist, pulled back from her face with a single comb. A smudge of clay clung to her cheek, while upon her wrists he saw the faint traces of mud that she’d tried to scrub away.
In his mind, he envisaged her slender fingers twining the clay into coiled ropes. The vision conjured up an unexpected flush of heat, as he imagined her fingers moving over a man’s skin. He didn’t know where the thought had come from, but his body reacted to her nearness.
‘I’ve begun the work, yes.’ He covered the carving with a cloth, stretching his hands. The initial outline was good, but he hadn’t captured her spirit yet. ‘Was that all you wanted?’
Maybe she would leave. But no. She sat down upon one of the tree stumps. Crossing her wrists over one knee, she added, ‘I don’t like being here. But I suppose you’ll need to finish your drawings.’
The honesty did not bother him. He preferred a forthright conversation and a woman who spoke her mind. ‘I can’t say as I like being here either.’
She stared at him, as if questioning whether he was trying to be funny. Then she dismissed it, asking, ‘Did you remember to eat? Or was that too much of an inconvenience?’
‘I have the supplies Davin sent.’ They were of the lowest quality, the bread heavy and coarse. Nevertheless, he’d eaten the food in solitude.
Picking up the board he’d used the other day, he began sketching her eyes. A deep sea blue, they held such sadness. Haunted, they were. ‘I saw you weeping this morn.’
‘It’s none of your affair.’
True enough. Though women cried often, it wasn’t something he liked to see. His sisters often used it to their advantage, weeping whenever they wanted something. They’d known he would relent to their demands.
Seeing Iseult weep was another matter. He sensed that her grief went beyond anything Davin could fix. Or perhaps it was because of Davin.
‘We all have our secrets,’he answered in turn. ‘Keep yours, if you will.’
Changing to another piece of the board, he drew her mouth. It was symmetric, rather ordinary. Never had he seen it smile, not even around her betrothed.
She straightened, looking even more uncomfortable. ‘Will this take very long?’
He set down the charcoal. ‘You are free to leave, any time you wish.’
‘Unlike you. I know.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Don’t think I haven’t considered leaving. But the sooner I get this over with, the less time I have to spend here.’
He kept his attention focused on her mouth, though he gripped the piece of charcoal harder. As he drew and time passed, her lips began to soften.
He’d been wrong. This was not an ordinary mouth. Full and sensual, when she let herself relax, this was a woman any man would want to kiss. Would she taste as good as she smelled?
The piece of charcoal slipped from his fingers. Stop thinking about her.
Iseult rested her chin in her palm, her attention upon the glowing hearth, pensive and quiet. He liked the way she felt no need to fill up the silence with chatter.
He sketched more angles of her face and eyes, continually switching the angle of the charcoal to gain a sharper corner. At last, she spoke again.
‘Did you truly carve the figure of that boy? Or was that a lie?’ Without waiting for a response, she continued, ‘I suppose you’d say anything to Davin to get your freedom.’
‘I don’t lie.’ He tossed the charcoal aside, reaching for a different piece. There was no need to argue his skill. The wood itself would offer the evidence.
He heard the sound of liquid pouring, and Iseult brought him a cup of mead, crossing the room to stand beside him. He didn’t have time to hide the drawing.
She drank from her own wooden cup, tilting her head to look at it. ‘You haven’t drawn my face at all.’
He’d sketched four different expressions for her eyes. On another part of the board, he’d drawn her mouth. He wasn’t satisfied with the drawing yet, for it had not captured her.
‘No. It isn’t necessary to draw a complete face.’ He accepted the cup and set it down beside him.
‘Why not?’
Because he had already memorised it. Because a woman with her beauty would not be easily forgotten.
He drank of the mead, savouring its sweetness. ‘Because I’m good at what I do.’ Setting the cup aside, he picked up the charcoal again. This time he focused on the curve of her cheek, the softness of her ear.
She leaned in, watching him, and her scent tantalised him again. Sweet with a hint of wildness.
‘Show me what you’ve carved so far.’ Her quiet request slid over him like a caress. He knew she meant nothing by it, but the nearness of her made him react.
Críost, he wasn’t dead. She would make any man desire her. Her eyes looked upon him with doubts.
‘No.’He rarely showed his work to anyone, not until it was finished. They wouldn’t understand the patterns and gouges, nor the intricacy, until the end. ‘It’s only an outline with the background removed.’
‘I don’t believe you carved that figure.’
She was so close now. He could reach out and touch her, thread his hands through the silk of her hair. See if it looked as soft as he suspected.
‘And I don’t care what you believe.’He didn’t temper his tone. She was trying to provoke him into revealing what he’d carved. He’d not fall into that snare.
‘If you’re so eager to admire yourself, you’ll just have to wait a few days.’
Her lower lip dropped in disbelief. ‘You’re unbearable.’
He tossed the board aside. It clattered against the side of the hut, startling her with the sudden movement. Unbearable, was he? She had no idea.
He captured her wrist, drawing her forward until she stood before him. ‘That’s right, a mhuirnín. And you’d do well to stay away from me.’
He gave into his desires, tilting her head back to face him. And learned that her hair truly was as soft as he thought it would be.
She stared at him with shock, her mouth drawing his full attention. A few inches further, and he’d have a taste of her forbidden fruit.
He held her there, waiting for her to strike out at him. Cry out for help to the guard she’d brought. But she didn’t say a word, just stood there watching him. Only the faint trembling in her hands revealed what she truly felt.
He released her, and Iseult stumbled away from him, pushing her way past the door.
Only after she’d gone, did he realise he was also trembling.
Chapter Five
Iseult hardly spoke during the evening meal. She was still shaken by the slave’s sudden move. Her skin had blazed with unwanted heat when he’d cupped her cheek. It had been a warning, not an act of desire. So why had she found it difficult to breathe? Possibly it was just humiliation. She could have Kieran whipped for touching her, if she confessed it.
But she didn’t want to be the cause of another’s suffering. The slave hadn’t truly done any harm, only embarrassed her.
She reached out to her cup, but found it empty. She knew better than to ask Davin’s mother Neasa for more wine. Though Iseult was their guest at dinner, Neasa made no secret of her displeasure about the forthcoming marriage. A beautiful older woman, her shining black hair showed no signs of greying, and her figure was the size of a young girl’s, despite the three children she’d borne. She smiled up at her son, nodding for a slave to refill his cup.
Davin poured half of his drink into her empty one. Iseult sent him a grateful look. Leaning in, he whispered, ‘You look lovely this night.’
Her skin reddened, but she murmured, ‘Thank you.’ With her eyes, she sent him a silent plea: Let me leave. I want to go home.
But he didn’t seem to see it.
‘Will you hunt on the morrow, Davin?’Neasa inquired.
‘I will, yes. I intend to take several of the men with me. I’m wanting a fine feast for my future wife.’He sent Iseult a proud smile, and she nodded in acknowledgement. The thought of their wedding brought a wave of nervousness. She supposed every bride felt that way.
‘Much can happen before Bealtaine,’ his mother argued. ‘There is no need to be married so soon.’
Iseult drained her cup, her hand tightening over the stem. If Neasa had her way, they’d not be married at all. It hurt to think that nothing she did was good enough. Never did the woman cease reminding Iseult that she was the daughter of a blacksmith and therefore unworthy to wed Davin.
‘It has been longer than I’d like,’ Davin replied. ‘Perhaps I’ll wed her at sundown tomorrow.’ He wrapped his hand around Iseult’s braid in a teasing gesture. Iseult answered his smile, but inwardly, she was wary. The last time she’d considered a marriage, it had ended in humiliation. It was hard to let herself trust a man again.
Her skin chilled at the memory of waiting alone with the priest, for a lover who never arrived. She’d been pregnant with his child, and he’d known it. So had everyone else.
Shame filled her, remembering the way her friends and family had stared at her. Murtagh had joined a monastery, rather than wed her. And didn’t that offer plenty of gossip for long winter nights, along with his babe swelling at her waist?
Neasa hadn’t forgotten about it; that much was clear. She believed Iseult was unworthy of wedding a nobleman. Yet Davin had offered for her, treating her as though she were a princess, instead of a commoner. The man loved her, though she did not understand why.
‘Davin, you will be chieftain one day soon,’ Neasa reminded him. ‘There are many responsibilities. Iseult has much to learn before she can be a proper wife.’
‘I will be leader only if I am chosen by the people,’ he corrected. Though he kept his tone even, Iseult saw the longing upon his face. He wanted to lead the tribe, and all knew there was no other choice but him.
Davin’s father Alastar interrupted at that moment. ‘Neasa, there’s no need to speak of me as if I’m dead. I am chieftain and will be for some time.’Alastar rose and stretched. ‘Come, Davin. I would hear your plans for Bealtaine.’
Iseult eyed the doorway with longing, but she hadn’t been invited to go with the men. Silently, she helped Neasa clear the plates away.
‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ she asked, when she’d finished.
‘Yes.’ Neasa set down the clay jug of mead and regarded her. ‘You could refuse to wed my son, but I know you won’t do it.You’re too eager to wed a man of his rank.’
Iseult’s temper flared. The woman made her sound greedy, as though she were wedding Davin for his gold. ‘Davin is a good man. I intend to give him my respect and care.’ She bit her lip to keep from saying more.
‘He deserves a woman who understands how to be chaste. You’ve borne a child.’
‘A child who was stolen from me,’ Iseult argued. ‘You, at least, have your son standing before you. I know not whether mine lives or is dead.’
The wrenching pain strangled her heart, and tears swam in her eyes. Davin’s quiet presence had been a balm to her bleeding soul when she’d lost her son Aidan. He had comforted her in her grief, treating her with such tenderness, such love.
‘You understand a mother’s love for her child,’Neasa said, though her voice was a sharp blade. ‘And you know that I want what is best for him.’ She wiped her hands upon a drying cloth and added, ‘You could not possibly understand what it means to lead our people.’
Neasa was wrong. Though she might not be one of them, never did she fear the responsibilities that would become hers. Her only thoughts were to take care of Davin and to build a home with him.
‘I may not be a chieftain’s daughter,’ she acknowledged, ‘but I will do what is necessary to make Davin happy.’
Neasa shook her head. ‘It’s not enough.’
Iseult had endured her fill of the woman’s criticism. She walked quietly to the door and opened it. ‘It will have to be.’
She stepped outside into the cool darkness. Neither Davin nor Alastar was nearby, and she suspected they’d gone for a walk. Though courtesy dictated that she say goodnight to her betrothed, she continued walking towards Muirne’s hut.
What was she going to do when she was expected to live with Davin’s family? They would have to build a hut of their own, else she’d go mad. His mother would do everything in her power to undermine their marriage.
Iseult walked faster, releasing her anger with each step. Sometimes she wished Davin were not the chieftain’s son. She wanted a simple life, one where they could live in peace. Perhaps with children surrounding them. And Aidan, safely home again.
Above her, the moon hid behind clouds, and Iseult walked past Muirne’s hut, needing a quiet moment alone. She passed the gates of the ringfort, until she could no longer see the flicker of torches.
Sinking down into the damp spring grass, she calmed herself. The fertile scent of the land granted her peace.
‘You shouldn’t be out here alone,’ a voice said. She turned towards the sound and saw Kieran. He drew nearer, his profile shadowed by the light behind him. His black hair fell against his face, and he crossed his arms. Rough and wild, the locks cut against his cheeks, badly in need of taming. Though he said nothing, he kept watching her.
Iseult pulled her knees against her chest, suddenly uneasy. Not a guard was in sight, and outside the ringfort, no one would see them.
