The Siren's Kiss: A Medieval Scottish Romance by Emma Prince

Author:Emma Prince [Prince, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emma Prince
Published: 2020-03-08T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Falcon swung the axe with all his might, sending the log splintering beneath it.

It felt good to exert himself, even though his right leg still ached a bit under the tightly-bound linen bandage. Still, he was upright, his brace removed and his crutch lying in the grass next to him. His right foot rested on the ground, the slightest bit of weight borne on that side a sign of all his progress.

He should have been elated. He should have been planning his next move—how to get off the island, followed by arranging passage to Carlisle, then Arcmare, bride in tow.

Instead he was chopping wood like a madman beside the stream. He’d been at it since shortly before dawn, when the sky had been only a few shades lighter than the surrounding sea.

Before that, he’d lain awake on the straw-filled mattress, fighting every instinct screaming at him to pull himself up the ladder and into Maerwynn’s loft. Into Maerwynn’s arms.

He finally had the whole story from her, the reason she was here alone and why she would not leave despite all she’d been through. It should have satiated his curiosity, scratched the itch he’d felt ever since he’d opened his eyes to behold his ethereal siren.

Yet their conversation had left him restless and ill at ease. Against his will, he found himself pulled to help her in some way, to linger a little longer in hopes of easing her burdens.

That was why he’d eventually risen and slipped out of the cottage to chop wood. At least he could help her in this simple, physical way.

But that was only part of it. He hadn’t realized until the wee hours of the night, as he’d chewed over all she’d said of her past, that he had completely forgotten to speak with Alice about getting to the mainland. Aye, he wasn’t fully healed yet, but now that he no longer needed the brace and could move about with the aid of his crutch, he could presumably depart under his own power.

He could tell himself that he’d forgotten because he’d been fatigued from his tour of the island yesterday, then confounded by Beatrice’s strange behavior. But that was a lie.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was that some part of him was reluctant to leave. That was the real reason he was out here chopping wood as if he were preparing for a hundred bonfires. It was easier to waste himself in mindless exertion than dwell within his own thoughts and feelings.

He couldn’t deny it, at least not within the privacy of his own mind—he’d come to care for Maerwynn. Learning of her past and all that she’d overcome had only intensified the feelings that had already begun to take root within him.

She was smart, and capable, and stubborn, aye, but that was because she knew what she was about. And she was so bonny that it made him ache whenever he wasn’t touching her.

But she wasn’t for him. And not because she was as far from a biddable, docile bride as the sun was from the moon.

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