by Amy Tolnitch
The man hidden in the shadows had the blinding urge to throw his cup across the tavern. Be calm, he told himself. Draw no attention. Nan is like most women, bleating over the man simply because he is new to the island.
Lost in his thoughts, he nearly missed Nan’s next words.
“My sister thinks the Lady favors him,” she said.
“No!” Murdag exclaimed.
The man tasted bile in his mouth and shot down a drink of ale. No, he told himself. It was just talk.
Nan shrugged. “Any woman would find it hard to resist such a man.”
“But … the Lady?”
“She is a woman.”
Murdag shook her head.
With a smile, Nan said, “Niamh told me the laird looks at the Lady as if he would like to eat her up. And that sometimes she looks back at him the same way.”
The man stood so fast his cup toppled. “Woman’s gossip,” he said with a snort and walked out. Rage spilled through him in waves, and it was all he could do not to rush up to the palace to demand Iosobal’s denial of such a vile rumor.
Perhaps he should make his feelings known, he thought. She must be lonely, living in the palace with only a few attendants. I will make her understand, he decided. When she does, she will realize that she belongs to me as I belong to her.
Chapter
XIV
Iosobal stared into Ailie’s bright eyes and realized with deep dismay how much she would miss the child when she left Parraba. Ailie, with her innocent generosity of spirit, had slid right under the barriers Iosobal had erected long ago. And this is why I built them, she told herself. It is best not to feel at all than to watch someone you’ve come to care for sail away.
“Did you hear me, Lady Iosobal?” Ailie asked, pulling at the edge of Iosobal’s bliaut.
“I—”
Ailie giggled. “No, you did not. You were lost in thought, my lady.”
Iosobal smiled. “Aye. You caught me.”
“Were you thinking of my father?”
Iosobal fought to keep her expression blank. “Why would I be thinking of him?”
“He is the most comely man in the world, surely.”
“Well, I—”
“And I heard two of the maids at Tunvegan talking one time. Mureall, who is very nice but empty-headed, told Brona, who is naught but a spiteful wench, that father was the best lover she’d ever had.” Ailie smiled and blinked up at Iosobal. “Brona was very jealous.”
Iosobal opened her mouth but nothing would come out. Ailie had spoken in such a matter of fact way that Iosobal had no idea how to respond.
“I would not mind,” Ailie added. “Father does get rather ill-tempered when he goes without a woman for long.”
Annoyance curdled inside Iosobal. Ailie’s description of Lugh equated his desire for a woman to craving a favorite treat. “Your father and I made an agreement to benefit us both,” Iosobal said in a flat tone. “There is nothing more between us.” Liar, her inner voice shouted, but she stamped it down.
Ailie looked unconvinced. “Can I swim with Amphitrite and Poseidon today?”
Thankful for the change in subject, Iosobal tilted her head, studying the child. “I am not sure ’tis a good idea.”
“Please? I am feeling much stronger.”
“Well—”
Ailie pointed out the window. “’Tis a warm, sunny day. The water will not be too cold. Please, Lady Iosobal?” Her eyes were wide with excitement. “Please!”
Iosobal couldn’t help but smile. How could she say no? “Very well, but I shall go with you.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ailie jumped up and down. “I’ve so wanted to swim with them before we leave.”
Before she could catch herself, Iosobal’s belly clenched and she felt the sting of tears in the back of her eyes. She coughed. “Then, we’d best do it today.”
Ailie threw her arms around Iosobal and hugged her tight. For a moment, Iosobal froze, and then slowly put her arms around the child. This time, she couldn’t fight the tears and one spilled down her cheek. Dear Brigid, she would miss Ailie. And what of The MacKeir? her inner voice asked. She held Ailie tight. Yes, she would miss the man, though she would never concede as much to anyone.
But no one had ever spoken so directly to her, save her mother. No one had ever dared to question her. No one had thought to help her or had even considered that she might welcome aid. No one had ever peered beyond the surface of the Lady of Parraba. And certainly no one had ever touched her.
No one had ever treated her as simply another human being, someone who could be a friend, or even a lover.
Yes, she would miss Lugh MacKeir.
“MARRY ME,” GIFFORD SAID, HOLDING SARAID’S HANDS tightly in his. “Come back with me to Falcon’s Craig.”
Saraid looked shocked.
“I promise to devote the rest of my life to making you happy.” Say yes, he prayed. Say yes.
“I … I don’t know, Gifford.”
“I love you.” He smiled and shook his head. “I never imagined I could find love again.”
“I never imagined I could ever find it at all,” she said softly.
He pulled her close, his heart swelling in relief. She’d as much said she loved him. “Then, marry me. We will live out our days at Falcon’s Craig together.”
“Gifford, I care for you, but—”
“Do not lie to me, or to yourself, my flower. You love me, as I love you.”
Saraid flushed and looked down. “I cannot deny it.”
“Then do you say aye?” Gifford held his breath.
She pulled her hands free and stood, looking at a nearby bush of bright pink roses. “You must understand. When I fled Sturbridge, I left everything I knew. Everything I hated and feared. And then I found Parraba.” She glanced back at him. “Here, I am safe. I will always be safe.”
He jumped to his feet. “I will keep you safe, my love.”
“I am sorry, Gifford. I was wed to Harmon for almost twenty hellish years. Those years will always be with me. I should not have let you believe there could be anything lasting between us.”
“Saraid, do not do this. Do not let the past deprive us both of happiness.” Damn the Earl of Sturbridge to Hell, Gifford swore to himself. If the bastard were not already dead, he would go back himself and see the deed done.
“Oh, Gifford,” she said as tears spilled down her cheeks. “You are a good man. And I know in my heart that you are right.”
“Then, marry me! Make me the most happy and fortunate man on this Earth!”
He knew before she spoke that her answer would be no, and his heart twisted in sorrow.
“I cannot. Please try to understand. This,” she spread her arms wide, “is my sanctuary, my haven. I can no more leave Parraba than Iosobal.”
“Saraid—”
“I am sorry,” she said before she turned and walked away.
Gifford could do nothing but watch her go and take with her the dream he had cherished since the moment he’d set eyes upon her. Then, he did the only thing and self-respecting man could do after having his heart crushed. He went to drink as much ale as he could get his hands on.
LUGH PAUSED IN THE PROCESS OF WIPING SWEAT FROM his brow with his tunic at the sound of laughter.
“By the saints, ’tis hot,” Branor grumbled as he hefted a rock.
The faint sound of laughter again reached Lugh’s ears, and he realized the sound came from below them.
Piers cocked his head. “That sounds like Ailie.”
“Aye,” Lugh agreed. He stared at the entrance to the cave. Though it would be dangerous, if he was of a mind to, he could clamber over the remaining rocks to get inside. He frowned as a shaft of sunlight flashed off something within, and a tremor of curiosity flitted across his skin.
“I wager the bairn is by the sea, looking for those dolphins,” Branor remarked as he took a drink of ale.
“Perhaps we should check on her,” Piers suggest
ed in a hopeful tone.
Lugh grinned. “A fine idea. The sea ’twill wash off the mountain of grit coating my skin.”
Branor gathered up their tools and the three men made their way down the path toward the sea. As they walked, the sounds of shrieking and laughter grew louder. Interspersed with Ailie’s voice was another, and Lugh soon realized that Iosobal was with her. When they reached the edge of the path, he held out a hand to halt Branor and Piers.
“By the saints, look at that,” he said. Ailie flew across the water with one dolphin, her little face alight with excitement. Close by her Iosobal swam with the other dolphin, her expression for once not guarded, but open in obvious pleasure.
“Like two mermaids, they are,” Branor said.
“Aye,” Lugh agreed, his throat tight. He strode across the sand until he reached the water’s edge.
Piers halted beside him and cast him a sideways glance. “Well?”
“I say we take a swim,” Lugh said as he bent and removed his boots.
“Father, look at me!” Ailie shouted.
At her voice, Iosobal’s gaze shot to the shore. The dolphin slowed, and she let go to float in the water. It was clear that she did not welcome the arrival of the men.
“I see you, sweeting!” Lugh called back, ignoring Iosobal’s frown of annoyance. “Have you become a sea nymph?”
Ailie giggled as the dolphin deposited her near shore. Her hair was plastered to her head, and her eyes glowed with health. Lugh stripped down to his braies and jumped into the water, diving under to sweep his daughter into his arms. The water felt like Heaven, the warm body of his child even more so.
“I was riding Amphitrite,” Ailie said as she wound her arms around his neck. “Lady Iosobal says that she likes me.”
A few feet out in the water, the dolphin bobbed its head and made a clicking sound as if to agree.
“I would say she does,” Piers said as he surfaced close to them. “She senses that you are a very special little girl.”
“Come on, Father,” Ailie said. “You can swim with her too.”
“I fear I am too big, sweet,” Lugh told her as he moved into deeper water.
“She is very strong.”
Amphitrite swam away from them toward Iosobal and the other dolphin, sweeping back to skitter across the water on her tailfin, screeching in a way that made Lugh think of laughter. He clapped his hands, laughing at the dolphin’s antics. By the saints, they seemed almost human, the way they played and responded to people in their waters.
She swam up to him and Ailie, and turned over to expose her smooth belly, gliding through the water and sending rippling waves toward Lugh and Ailie.
Ailie giggled and held her hand out. The next time the dolphin swam by, Ailie ran her fingers over Amphitrite’s sleek body. “She likes being petted,” Ailie told him.
Lugh just stared at the sight in wonder. In the course of his travels, he’d seen dolphins many times, but he’d never seen or heard of one of them being so comfortable with humans.
The dolphin stopped in front of them, and lifted her head out of the water, her mouth slightly open.
“See, she is smiling,” Ailie said.
Lugh reached out and patted the creature on the head. She let out a clicking sound, and swam so close that she bumped her sleek body up against his. He put his hand on her. She felt smooth, but firm, like she wore a thick hide.
“Take hold of her front fin,” Ailie called over.
“What?”
“Hold her front fin,” Ailie repeated.
Lugh glanced down at the dolphin, then into Piers’s amused gaze. Why not? he thought, taking a firm grip on the fin. In an instant, he found himself shooting across the water, amazed at the power in Amphitrite’s sleek body. When they reached the other dolphin, Amphitrite slowed, and Lugh slid off.
He felt a push from behind, and crashed into Iosobal. Instinctively, he grabbed her around the waist.
They floated belly to belly in the smooth water, the dolphins swimming in circles around them, their only barrier a wet chemise and equally saturated braies. Iosobal’s eyes widened, and Lugh slowly smiled.
She pushed at his chest. “Let go of me,” she ordered in her Lady of the Manor voice.
Lugh let her go, but then dunked her head under the water.
She burst to the surface sputtering.
Lugh started laughing at the look of outrage on her face. The dolphins clicked and screeched as if to join in.
“You …” She didn’t finish, but gave him a glare that could have melted ice before swimming away.
Oh, no, he thought. You’ll not escape me that easily. He swam through the water with powerful strokes until he caught up, then grabbed her ankle and pulled her back, dunking her head again in the process.
She twisted in his grasp, and splashed water in his face. “Stop that!” she shouted.
Instead, he splashed her back, laughing so hard it was all he could do to stay afloat. “Come now, Iosobal. Have some fun.”
And then, to his shock, she pushed out of the water and came down on his head, shoving his face underwater. He grabbed her once more and popped up. “You shall pay for that,” he swore.
But before he could do anything, he felt a sleek body under him and suddenly both he and Iosobal were rushing through the water toward shore. The speed threw her body more closely against his and Lugh held on tight. He knew he was grinning like a fool, but couldn’t care. The sun glittered off the surface of the sea, the water was warm and soft, and he held a beautiful woman so close he could feel the curve of her breast and the heat of her skin.
Ailie splashed and cried out as she watched them, clinging to one of Piers’s arms for support in the water. Branor sat on the beach, watching them with a pensive expression.
The dolphins deposited Lugh and Iosobal close to Ailie and Piers, and then shot back under the water to burst out in a high arc.
Ailie clapped. “Are they not wonderful, Father?”
“Aye,” Lugh said as he reluctantly released Iosobal. She turned her head and shot him a chiding look, which Lugh responded to with a grin. Of course, Iosobal stuck her chin in the air and waded out of the water toward a stack of cloths lying on the sand. Lugh stared at her back, the curve of her bottom evident beneath the wet chemise.
Ailie curled an arm around his neck. “I am hungry.”
He pulled her close. “Well, then we shall have to find you something to eat at once.”
She peered over his shoulder and waved. “Goodbye, Amphitrite! Goodbye, Poseidon!”
As Lugh carried her out of the water, he heard the dolphins whistle, and turned to watch them swim away, shaking his head. “They are amazing creatures.”
Piers waded out beside him. “Aye. One would almost think they understand us.”
Iosobal turned to him, now hidden by a huge length of cloth. “They do.”
“But—” Piers broke off at the calm, knowing expression on Iosobal’s face.
Ailie wriggled down and snatched up a dry length of cloth, wiping her face and wringing out her hair.
Lugh saw Piers draw in a breath and study Iosobal. “I suppose you are right,” he said slowly. “After all, Amphitrite did save Ailie.”
“I wish we had dolphins at Tunvegan,” Ailie said, her voice forlorn.
Lugh put his arm around her. “’Tis not possible, sweet. Dolphins need the sea.”
“I know.”
“Perhaps one day you shall visit me again,” Iosobal said, before walking away through the sand.
Lugh’s jaw dropped. Was that an invitation he’d just heard? By the saints, perhaps the lady did not look upon them with complete disfavor.
“Can we, Father?” Ailie asked, her gaze wide. “Can we visit again?”
The very thought was astounding to him. He knew they had been lucky that Iosobal had allowed them to land on her isle at all. And she had made it abundantly clear that she looked forward to their departure. But now … now, it appeared som
ething had changed.
He eyed Iosobal’s departing form. “Perhaps we shall, my sweet. Perhaps we shall one day.”
AFTER THROWING ON SOME DRY CLOTHES, PIERS WENT by Gifford’s chambers and noticed the door was closed. He smiled, thinking that perhaps his uncle was not alone. But as he made to walk by, he remembered all of the times Gifford thought nothing of interrupting Piers in his pleasurable labors for one thing or another.
He stopped and pounded on the door.
“Go away!” Gifford shouted. “Unless you bring more ale.”
Piers frowned. Gifford’s voice did not sound like one of a man in the throes of passion. “Gifford?” he called. “What are you doing?”
His uncle didn’t answer, and Piers edged the door open. He spied his uncle sprawled on a window seat, cup in hand and a jug on the floor beside him. “What are you doing in here?”
“Getting sotted.”
“You never get sotted.”
Gifford sighed. “No, more ’tis the pity.”
Piers noted the three empty jugs lying haphazardly to the side. While Gifford drank continuously, he was not a man to seek drink as an escape. Piers sat on the edge of the bed. “What is wrong?”
After tossing back a long slug of ale, Gifford gazed at Piers through bleary eyes. “She refused me.”
“Saraid? She refused to lie with you?”
Gifford let out a snort. “I did not ask to bed the woman, although, naturally, I would like to.”
“Well, she is still an attractive woman,” Piers mused. “And I imagine she would be eager for a man after all this time alone on Parraba.”
“Shut up, you fool. I asked Saraid to marry me.”
Piers blinked. “You jest.”
Gifford swilled another drink and shook his head. “Nay. I asked her for marriage, pleaded for it, made my most persuasive argument for it. And still, she said no.”
“Are you mad? I mean, I well understand your attraction to the woman. But marriage? Bed her and we shall go home. For that matter, I was thinking of going down to the village myself to see—”
“Piers!” his uncle bellowed. “This is not just about my need to bed a woman. Can you not think beyond such?”
