Elizabeth McBride by Arrow of Desire

Author:Arrow of Desire [Desire, Arrow of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-03-08T04:37:00+00:00

"S o you're telling me that there's a woman in charge?"

"Not exactly in charge, Your Highness."

"Exactly what, then?"

A trickle of sweat slid from the man's brow. "She just thinks she's in charge, my liege."

A heavy eyebrow lifted the golden crown a fraction of an inch. "My friend, don't you know you should never let a woman think she's in charge? She'll create more havoc than a ferret trapped in your breeches."

Snickers bounced off the embroidered wall hangings. The raftered hall, the centerpiece of the royal fort of Dun Add, was filled with the men of the king's court, dressed in silken tunics and shaggy fleece cloaks.

"Things aren't going the way I planned, my liege."

"Apparently not." The king of Dal Riata picked an oyster from a silver platter that a page held before him.

"The woman is wayward, my liege."

"Wayward women do not interest me." The king drank a large mouthful of wine, and wiped his chin with his sleeve. Then he leveled his gaze at the man before him. "I do, on the other hand, care about the Pictish prince. He is dangerous. And there is only one way to stop him."

"I need time, Your Highness."

"I've given you time. I've stayed away from Dun Darach while you made your plans. Now time is running out."

"Then give me an army."

"An army? You can't take care of two score men and a handful of scrawny women without an army?"

The hall tittered.

"I can. But if you want speed-"

"I want results. You have Drosten mac Gormach in your lap. Deal with him."

The page slipped to the king's other side and presented him with a tray of spice cakes. The king selected one and pushed it into his mouth. "As for the woman, she's not a blood relation. Kill her or take her for yourself. But whatever you do, for Mary's sake, be subtle. I don't want to start a war with the Picts."

The king leaned back and closed his eyes. The man opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it, and backed into the shadows.

It was just before dawn when Mhoire awakened. She had dreamt all night. But not of the man who slapped and humiliated her. She dreamt of the other one. Whose warmth threatened to melt the walls she had so carefully erected inside herself. Walls she must keep up.

She pushed herself to her knees, reached for the leather bundle that held her personal things, and drew out a small object. Cradling it in her palm, she tiptoed past the sleeping bodies scattered around the hall, pulled open the heavy oak door, and stepped into the courtyard.

The air was thick and the sky lowered, smothering the light like a lid on a box.

Shadows separated from the gloom. She tensed but quickly recognized the shapes as two of Drosten's warriors. Then she sensed movement behind her.

"Mhoire." Grainne spoke from the doorway. "How are you feeling?"

I am grave. Melancholy. Resolved. "I am well enough," Mhoire said, turning. She surveyed the muddy ground near her feet.

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