[Sevenwaters 03] Child of the Prophecy by Juliet Marillier

Author:Juliet Marillier
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2001-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

“Please,” I said, “I have disturbed you at your work. Please go on. Ignore me. I will be quiet. Or, if you wish, I can take this elsewhere. I did not intend—”

Eamonn gave a grim little smile. “Not at all. I’m making slow progress with this; the task is not to my liking, and I cannot concentrate today. The interruption is welcome. Besides, I was just about to send a woman along to see how you were. Here, let me pour this for you.”

I waited silently while he did so, thinking of Darragh’s fingers warm around my own, remembering him feeding me like a child.

“There,” said Eamonn. “I’ve been concerned, Fainne. We did not have the pleasure of your company yesterday.”

“As you see, I’m quite well now.” I sipped the ale and crumbled the bread between my fingers.

“I—” Eamonn was unusually hesitant. “I did wonder if your indisposition was a result of—I thought perhaps I had offended you, distressed you. My behavior was not altogether appropriate, I realize that.”

I looked up at him.

“It was not so much your behavior as—it was what you said. I was—I was somewhat upset, it’s true. But as you see, I am recovered now.”

“Then I did offend you. I regret that.” He sounded sincere enough. He had seated himself on the bench opposite and was scrutinizing me closely. I sipped the ale. In fact I was quite hungry, for the oaten porridge had not gone far, but a hearty appetite was at odds with the picture I wished to create. I left the bread.

“We must discuss this,” said Eamonn, his tone less than enthusiastic. “Still, I scarcely know where to begin.”

I glanced up at him. He looked like a man who had gone without sleep, and I sensed the scrolls strewn on the table were the least of his worries. “You mentioned compromise,” I reminded him. “I believe that’s possible between us. But we won’t speak of it this morning. I am still weary, and you appear somewhat distracted. If I might make a suggestion?”

“By all means.”

“Perhaps I might remain here quietly for a while. No need to speak of what occurred between us. I have some needlework with me; I will eat and drink, and occupy myself with that, for the light is good in this chamber, and I wish for no company but yours this morning. You can get on with your work, as if I were not here. Later, after supper perhaps, we might speak of other matters.”

For a few moments he stared at me in silence. Then he said, “There was a fellow here asking for you yesterday. Rough sort of man. Rode straight in demanding to see you, and reluctant to take no for an answer.” He was frowning. I exerted the utmost control over my features, and kept my voice calm.

“Really?”

“Fine pony he had with him, too good a piece of horseflesh for such riffraff. Pure white. Fellow said he knew you, from Kerry.”

“It would be one of the traveling folk, I suppose.

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