A sharp knock at the door startled them both, but not enough to prompt Egan to release her
. “What is it?” he shouted.
“It’s Albyn. Forgive me, but I must speak with you immediately.”
Egan drew in a deep breath, and held it while he wondered what Albyn could possibly find so urgent. He rubbed his cheek against Oriana’s silken hair, and for a long moment refused to let her go. When he at last slackened his hold, he guided her toward the chair.
“Do not worry so,” he whispered. He waited until she was comfortably seated, and then placed a hurried kiss atop her head.
When he reluctantly opened the door, all Albyn observed was a contemplative young woman seated by the fire and an old friend who could not have been more annoyed.
Albyn shouldered his way past Egan, and mindful of the many guests in the fortress, spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I said nothing tonight, but merely listened, and there’s wild speculation of a secret alliance between you and Oriana’s father.”
Egan swore a particularly inventive oath as he again slammed his door. “For what purpose?”
“The usual,” he said. “To better prey on enemies and increase the size of your kingdom.”
Eager to improve his view of Oriana, Albyn moved toward the center of the room. She had appeared distracted all evening, but he had her full attention now. “Is it mere conjecture or the truth?” he prodded them both.
“Before we returned home, I’d no idea my father had died,” Egan reminded him. “So I’d not be out making alliances on my own. Has no one considered such an obvious fact?”
With an agonizing burst of awareness, Oriana was struck by how quickly her arrival had created a danger in itself. Terrified she had unwittingly fulfilled her own prophecy, she issued a frantic order. “Send Albyn away, now.”
Egan nodded, then broadened his stance and gestured toward the door. “Until dawn, Albyn.”
Dumbfounded by how swiftly Egan had done Oriana’s bidding, the handsome Druid shook his head. “Listen to her! Clearly she’s no homeless waif, but a lady accustomed to giving orders. Don’t you care what’s being said about her?”
“Not in the slightest.” Egan swiped his hand through his hair. “The whole lot were drunk. They’ll not hold such fanciful notions in the morning.”
Albyn noted the anguish in Oriana’s beautiful golden eyes and could not silence a final protest. “No one was too drunk to appreciate Oriana’s beauty and bearing. She’s obviously from a proud family, and her father would not have entrusted her to you without extracting a promise of something valuable in return.”
Before Egan could respond to Albyn’s logical conclusion, Oriana stood to confront him. She dipped her head slightly, unconsciously adopting a threatening pose. “If you are forced to choose between Garrick and Egan, will you be allowed to leave the Druids?”
Completely unprepared for such an alarming challenge, Albyn sent an accusing glance toward Egan, but his old friend shook his head to assure him he had not violated his confidence. Nonetheless, Albyn was deeply disturbed to have his private torment voiced aloud, and by a woman no less.
He was even more firmly convinced Oriana and Egan were hiding her true identity, but what their purpose could be confounded him. Since he had kept no secrets from Egan, he was deeply insulted not to be shown the same respect.
Albyn let his sleeves slide over his hands to hide his clenched fists. “You’ve posed a dangerous question, my lady.”
“As have you,” she replied. “I bid you a good night.”
Albyn hesitated, but with Egan in such a recalcitrant mood, he would not waste his breath further. “Come on the hunt alone,” he cautioned as he passed by, and while it was an effort, he closed the door quietly behind him.
Once their privacy was again assured, Oriana scanned the chamber, but between the flames and fur-heaped bed, the chair offered the only island of safety. Assailed by a bitter truth, she sank down upon it and clasped her hands tightly between her knees.
“How could I have been so blind?” she moaned. “No one can escape his fate, and by bringing me here, you’ve simply hastened the danger I foretold.”
Not so easily disheartened, Egan knelt in front of her. He parted her hands and placed soothing kisses on her palms. “You’re unaccustomed to crowds,” he offered, “and found the evening unsettling. I should have understood what was enjoyable for me was a tedious ordeal for you. Come to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Oriana felt the strength in his capable grasp but knew while sincere, he was again gravely mistaken. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Don’t you understand what’s happened?” she chided. “Rather than proving beneficial, my presence has created the very danger you sought me out to avoid. I’ve brought you only ruin.”
Egan rocked back on his heels, but he was more amused than concerned by her dread. “I’m far from ruined, and you can’t blame yourself for my father’s death.”
That it was even a possibility made Oriana sick clear through. She could not bear his confident glance and focused instead upon their entwined hands. She enjoyed his gentle touch, but feared it came at far too high a price.
Her chest ached when she drew the breath to speak. “It’s said the gods enjoy making sport of mortals’ lives. They could have made you king, all for the fun of using me to destroy you.”
“No,” Egan said emphatically. “Lugh may be a mighty warrior with the sun’s own brilliance, but he isn’t cruel, and he’d never allow you to be used so badly.”