Her fingers explored her mouth.
‘Should I beg your pardon?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought we’d agreed earlier.’
‘Agreed what?’
‘I am to be a nun, a holy maid who sees visions.’ She gave a half-smile. ‘Even if I have not yet had a real one.’
He frowned. ‘Out here, you’re Skadi, the lady Ceanna, my travelling companion.’
Her eyes became troubled. ‘If we’d been acquainted for longer, you would know I am far from the sort from whom men steal kisses. Mostly I’m overlooked and ignored. Far too plump in the bosom.’
He watched her heart-shaped face with her pale rose mouth and upturned nose. ‘What is the matter with the men in Dun Ollaigh? Are they blind? I have rarely known a man to complain of such a thing.’
She burst out laughing. ‘The Northmen must have different standards.’
He regarded her. The urge to suggest other options for her life besides being a nun in Nrurim nearly overwhelmed him, but he needed to find Lugh and she was his best hope of getting there. After that, he’d assist her if he could. And he had to hope that his gut instinct that anyone attempting to find Ceanna would simply make for the monastery and wait, ready to pounce once she appeared, wasn’t accurate. He was taking a calculated risk, but once she reached her aunt’s sanctuary, she was no longer his concern. He would have fulfilled his oath. ‘Stop listening to your stepmother or whoever else told you that.’
‘Marriage proposals have not exactly been thick on the ground, according to my stepmother.’
‘Your stepmother seeks to manipulate you.’
‘I know the truth, Sandulf. Even before my father married her, I was considered awkward and clumsy.’
He captured her chin between his fingers so that she was forced to look at him. He wanted to slay all of those who had made her feel less than she was. She wasn’t conventionally pretty, but once you got to know her, her inner beauty shone through and he wondered how he’d missed it when they first encountered each other. He admired her courage and her vitality. But he also knew he couldn’t say those things to her, not yet...and possibly never. She was the sort of woman men married. She was not the sort for a dalliance, however enticingly her mouth had moved against his earlier.
‘Nothing happens that you don’t wish. We go at your pace and...’
Her eyes blinked at him. ‘And what?’
Sandulf abruptly let her chin go and stepped away. Lady Ceanna was an innocent. She had little idea that she’d grown into a highly desirable woman with curves in precisely the right places. She might know things in theory, but she had little idea in practice. She deserved someone better than him to teach her. ‘We need to find shelter for tonight before it starts to rain again.’
Ceanna regarded the small cottage. The garden was well tended and there was an air of busy prosperity to it. She hoped that finding a place like this to stay in would get rid of the uneasy air which had sprung up between her and Sandulf.
He had kissed her thoroughly and then strode off without a backward glance. For the rest of the day he’d spoken only when necessary and had gone out of his way to avoid her. She found she missed the little touches, the accidental brushes of their arms, his hand helping her over a muddy puddle. She hadn’t realised she’d been looking forward to them until they were gone. She concentrated on the door. Some nun she was going to make.
‘Allow me do the talking. Please.’
‘Because I’m a Northman.’
‘I speak Pict and Gaelic. I’ve no idea which language they speak in this hut, or if they’ve suffered at any Northman’s hands. You can hardly blame people for being cautious.’
‘True enough.’ He made a low bow. ‘Once again, I will be in your debt, my lady, if you secure us a place to sleep.’
‘Where has this formality come from? Are you mocking me?’
‘Never. I am prepared to admit that you might be the best thing to have happened to me recently. You are certainly prettier than my other guides on this journey.’
She screwed up her nose. ‘There isn’t much competition if Urist is anything to go by.’
‘I’ll admit to not being attracted to Urist in the slightest.’ He shrugged.
Ceanna glanced up at the sky with its growing storm clouds. His liking for her, if that was what it was, was friendship, not desire or even love. She had to keep her head out of the dream clouds. Heroes did not come to rescue women like her.
‘Then we’re agreed that I can approach the lady of the house and ask if she can spare shelter for us and perhaps a morsel of food.’
‘I take it you’re hungry...again.’
A tiny bubble of happiness rose up inside her. ‘You know me so well. My stepmother thinks it a weakness. She says my aunt distrusts people with large appetites as their mind is on earthly pleasures.’
‘She was a disciple of your aunt’s. Will that cause problems?’
She pressed her hands together. ‘My mother was her sister. I believe blood will count for something when my profound vision of holiness is added to the tally in my favour.’
He reached out and pushed a tendril of hair from her face. ‘I prefer women who have a healthy appetite for life.’
Ceanna’s mouth ached. ‘So, you agree. I will speak with the woman.’
‘But of course.’
Ceanna coughed loudly as she approached the elderly woman who was seated in the doorway. The woman stopped doing her spinning and stared at her.
‘Strangers,’ she said in Pict. ‘Most go by the pass, rather than taking the long way around.’
‘Strangers in search of a place to lay our heads for a night and something to fill our bellies.’
