Chapter Twelve
‘Do you think they will find the runaways in time?’ Svanna asked after Rand had sent several groups of his men out with instructions to search the countryside for the missing couple.
She had to admit that sending search parties out was one solution and resting here in Donaghmoyne would not be a hardship.
After doing that, he had loudly proclaimed that she appeared tired, and he would escort her to their chamber.
The remaining servants had nudged each other and laughed until Svanna knew her cheeks burned.
Rand paused in latching the door to his well-appointed chamber. ‘If they wish to be found, they will be. I only hope…’
Svanna kept her eyes focused on him rather than looking off at one of the many tapestries which adorned the room.
Or worse, the bed piled high with furs. Everything about the room spoke of Rand’s old life, the one he’d shared with Bridget—a timely reminder that she was the interloper here and could never command his heart.
‘Hope what? That for some reason your cousin has not gone to seek aid from Turgeis?’
His tight smile told her all she needed to know. ‘Hope persists when much else fails.’
‘Forget I said anything,’ she said, and tried to alter the subject. ‘Your room exudes comfort.’
He shook his head. ‘Better that you say it than I do.’
‘Important to consider all the possibilities, but your cousin knows their fury.’
He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘At times, my cousin has the recklessness of an inveterate gambler, and I fear like you that this could be one of those times.’
She withdrew her hand from his much larger one. ‘He’d be foolish to trust them, knowing what he does.’
‘Agreed.’ Rand watched her from under hooded lids. ‘But my men will catch up with the pair and return them, forcibly if necessary. Only a limited number of directions for them to travel in exist.’
‘Is the last for my benefit or yours?’ she asked with her eyes dancing.
‘If they are not found within two days, I promise to take you to Tara, and you may say your piece to Máel Sechnaill.’
She bent her head and fiddled with her cuff.
The last thing she required was another quarrel, but she also knew she had to speak her mind.
‘Remember Birdie. I refuse to leave her if they haven’t been found.
It would be reckless in the extreme to expose her to that type of danger.
Her father’s sword arm will be enough protection. ’
‘And if they have?’ His quiet voice held a stern note.
‘We make an assessment together.’ Svanna put a hand on her stomach. She didn’t want a repeat of their quarrel. She loathed quarrelling with people, but there was something odd about the aunt’s promise to the girl.
She hoped in time the little girl would trust her enough to give her more information about the promise, but until then she acted on instinct and drew on all her skills of diplomacy.
‘I know you’d rather she stays here, but my gut tells me that she is an important piece in this game of tafl we appear to be playing with Turgeis.’
‘A counter? Why?’
‘I don’t know, but the best way to keep her safe is to ensure she remains with us.’ She forced a smile. ‘She longs to be with her dear papa.’
‘Are you any good at tafl?’
She concentrated on the table, where a game of tafl was set up.
It looked as if Rand had been playing with someone as the game appeared half-completed.
Who? She hoped that it was not some sort of memorial to his late wife, but feared it could be.
How could she ever compete against a ghost?
She pushed the thought away. Theirs was a strategic marriage and not about passion or love.
She hated that a growing part of her hoped for the impossible.
Dampening it down and concentrating on making the marriage they’d agreed to work on was the only option for avoiding a broken heart.
‘My foster-mother and her second husband loved playing. My skills have been well-honed.’ She gestured towards the board. ‘I can demonstrate if you wish.’
‘Well-honed?’ Rand stroked his chin. ‘We shall have to see about that.’
‘Right now?’ She went over to the table but deliberately did not pick up any of the pieces. ‘Do you want to reset the game? Or shall I? I would hate to interrupt anything.’
Rand stared at it for a long time as if weighing his options. ‘Why not? That game has gone on way too long.’
With a swift flick of his wrist, he sent the counters flying. In her heart, she knew the game must have been one he was playing with his late wife, and it made her unaccountably sad.
She said nothing and picked up the pieces, setting the game anew. ‘Do you wish to be white or black?’
He laughed, a noise that rasped across her already taut nerves. ‘You are amazing, Svanna.’
‘Because I know where the pieces go?’ She shook her head and chose to misunderstand. ‘You must have very low standards if you think I wouldn’t. I can play, Rand. If you are serious, we will have a match, but be warned, I play to win.’
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Something like that.’
She went to pick up the black king piece, which had rolled under the bed, but he caught her wrist. ‘I’ll do that.’
She dropped the piece into his palm. ‘If you like…’
He placed the piece down and then drew her into his arms. ‘I do very much like, but I would like this more.’
She wet her suddenly parched lips, hating the way her entire body thrummed with anticipation. ‘Like what more?’
His mouth descended on hers. It was a different sort of kiss to the ones she had experienced before. Far darker, as if he was trying to expunge his demons as his tongue plunged into her mouth, demanding a response from her.
She tore her mouth from his. ‘Are you frightened to play with me?’
‘I prefer this sort of game right now. A game where we both win.’
He lowered his mouth to hers again. And she discovered that she wanted him desperately. To emphasise the point, she wrapped her arms about his neck and held him close. The pressure of the kiss intensified, and she moaned in the back of her throat.
He scooped her up, carried her over to the fur-covered bed and gently set her down. She fell back amongst the furs.
He carefully undid the brooches which held her apron up and placed them to one side before palming her breasts. At the gesture, her nipples instantly tightened, rasping against the rough linen of her under-gown.
‘I know we should undress, but I need you too much.’ He caught her hand and placed it on his member. Underneath his trousers, he was hard and thrusting.
She closed her hand about him and gently squeezed. He threw back his head. ‘Undo me.’
She fumbled with the laces but managed to get them untied without knotting them and he sprang free.
He lifted her skirts and his questing hand nestled in the curls at the apex of her thighs. Round and round in a figure of eight until she was slick with wanting.
Then he opened her thighs and thrust home hard. Her body trembled before unfurling about him. She grabbed his shoulders and they rocked back and forth until they reached the shuddering peak together.
He collapsed down on her as if some great storm had passed and appeared to fall instantly into a deep sleep.
She stroked his back and he tightened his arms around her, murmuring some indistinct pleasantry she wanted to assume was meant for her.
She knew she couldn’t ask him what it was or why his demons had suddenly gripped him.
She had to wonder if it was somehow connected to the tafl game he’d destroyed.
She only hoped that she had brought him a small measure of solace.
She pressed her fingertips to her temples.
What she did, she did for Agthir, not because she had feelings for him, but she had trouble remembering that and greatly feared that what she did, she did for Rand as well.
His steady breathing indicated that the crisis had passed.
‘Are you going to trust me with the reason?’
His only answer was to murmur something indistinct and clutch her closer.
Her heart squeezed because she knew she was starting to care deeply about him and hoped he’d start to care for her, but he’d warned her against that possibility. All she had to do was to look at this room to know where his heart lay.
Unfortunately, her heart refused to listen, even though she knew it would most likely lead to tremendous hurt and humiliation in the future.