“I love ye, Maldie Murray.” He smiled faintly when she grimaced. “What have I said now?”
“Maldie Murray.” She shook her head. “I didnae think this through verra weel at all. It has the taste of a lilt some minstrel would use when he cannae think of the words.” She giggled as he laughed.
“’Tis music to my ears. I can think of no sweeter sound than that of your name joined with mine.”
She curled her arms around his neck. “Ye are getting much better with your flatteries, husband.” Maldie covered his hand with hers when he began to caress her breasts, halting his gentle touch. “There is one more thing we must discuss ere we lose ourselves in the joys of our wedding night.”
“No more confessions, please.”
“Nay, I have no more. I saw ye speaking with Nigel ere we left the great hall. The solemn looks upon your faces told me he wasnae wishing ye weel, that ye spoke of much weightier matters.” She decided not to tell him of how she had felt the deep sadness between him and Nigel, for Balfour sometimes found her ability to sense a person’s feelings a little uncomfortable. “Is there some trouble lurking around the corner that ye havenae told me about?”
Balfour touched his forehead to hers. “Nay and aye. There is no enemy trying to kill me or mine or take my lands. This trouble lurks within our own family. Nigel willnae be at our morning feast.”
“Why?” she asked in a soft voice, dreading his answer.
“He rides away at dawn to fight in France.”
Maldie could hear the pain in his voice and she held him close. “I am so sorry, Balfour.”
“This is not your doing.”
“Of course it is my doing. ’Tis because of me he is leaving, isnae it?”
“Nay, ’tis because he loves you as any mon with good eyes and a heart must. I ken that ye did nothing to encourage him.”
“I could have perhaps discouraged him more than I did.”
“Nay.” He idly brushed a few wisps of hair from her face. “Lass, we became lovers right before his verra eyes, and that didnae change how he felt. Ye telling him to look elsewhere certainly wouldnae have stopped him. Nothing could have stopped me.”
“Or me,” she said and sighed. “When we were apart and I thought ye didnae want me, I learned the pain of loving someone who doesnae love you. I would wish that upon no mon or woman. I at least had sweet memory to cling to.”
“The fact that Nigel doesnae have that, that he has ne’er e’en kissed the one he longs for, may weel be his salvation. He believes he can cure himself.”
“I pray he does, for his place is here with ye and Eric. He belongs at Donncoill, and I dinnae think he will be happy until he has come home again. Mayhap he will find what he seeks in France.”
“As I found what I needed on the road to Dubhlinn,” he said, and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I would ne’er have guessed that my destiny would be standing there with tangled hair and a sharp tongue. I love ye, my green-eyed temptress.”
“No more than I love ye.”
“Do ye challenge me?” he asked, grinning down at her as he pinned her beneath his body.
“Aye, I do. Are ye mon enough to meet it?”
“It could take a long time to decide a winner.”
“We have a lifetime,” she murmured. “And I can think of no better way to spend our years together than in showing each other how much love we have.”
“Neither can I, Maldie Murray. Neither can I.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hannah Howell is an award-winning author who lives with her family in Massachusetts. She is the author of nineteen Zebra historical romances and is currently working on a new Highland historical romance, Highland Lover, which will be published in June 2006. Hannah loves hearing from readers, and you may visit her website: www.hannahhowell.com. Or write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed, stamped envelope if you wish a response.
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