Egan grabbed his pants from the floor before entering the privy. He always awoke hard, but that morning he had to fight the urgent need to make love again. He wanted Oriana so badly, if he started he would not be able to stop should a hundred men come knocking at his door, so he dared not even begin. But denying his need was a worse torment than any Kieran posed.
He was surprised he was so steady on his feet when he felt giddy clear to his soul, but he did not think it a good day for climbing mountains. Recalling his dream, he decided a swim would be a better choice, but first he would have to find the strength to leave the chamber he shared with his bride.
Oriana returned Egan’s adoring kiss, but made no move to stop him as he strode toward the door. When she’d had such a vague notion of the rapture of making love, she now wondered how she could have offered such confident prophecies. She felt foolish for having been so incredibly naive.
“I knew nothing before meeting you,” she said to him sincerely.
Egan paused with his hand on the open door. “You mustn’t dismiss your talents so lightly, my lady. You read the future with magical stones, and it was your gift that drew me to you. Now rest here if you like, or come join the others and watch, but I’ll wager today’s challenge will be over quickly.”
He was gone before Oriana could admit her Stones of Tomorrow were nothing more than pretty rocks. In the chamber’s sudden silence, the fanciful deception swiftly became a hideously convoluted lie, and she vowed to tell Egan the truth at her first opportunity. That newfound guilt compounded by anxiety over the challenge prompted her to leave the bed in a hurried leap.
Her hands shook as, unable to make a quick choice, she sorted through Adelaine’s pretty garments. There were the new brown gowns she had set aside for travel, but she hated the sight of them now. She would have tossed them in the fire had the fabrics not been so fine; they ought to be passed along to some farmer’s wife or shepherdess in need of new clothing.
Finally dressed in a soft green-gray gown, Oriana was about to comb her hair when Myrna appeared with fruit, freshly baked bread, and cheese. “Egan insisted I remain to watch you eat, my lady, but I’d rather make myself useful. Hand me your comb, and I’ll tame your curls. Adelaine’s were every bit as wild, and I learned to begin at the tips to gently coax them into obedience.”
Grateful for her help, Oriana handed over the comb, broke off a bit of bread, and moved toward the chair. “I doubt I shall be able to eat much or sit for long. I don’t want to miss the day’s challenge and am eager to hear what it will be.”
As soon as Oriana was seated, Myrna stepped behind
her and began to expertly untangle her curls. “I’ve missed having a pretty mistress to tend. Ula has her own maids and never has any need for me.”
“Is she troubled over the challenge?” Oriana inquired.
Myrna pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Not that I’ve seen. But then, she expects Kieran to win.”
Oriana waited for Myrna to separate another handful of hair before she murmured, “A mother should be loyal.”
Myrna clamped her jaws shut, but quickly lost her battle to keep still. “Ula is loyal only to herself, and Kieran is quick to do her bidding.”
“Egan would not treat her badly,” Oriana argued. “He’s too fine a man to banish his stepmother from her home.”
“He is a fine man,” Myrna agreed, “but like his sire, blind to the dangers in his own household.”
Intrigued, Oriana sat up a little straighter. “Have you recalled something more about Adelaine’s death?”
Myrna appeared to concentrate on a difficult snarl, but her expression betrayed her sorrow. “I’m an old woman, and my memories are as tangled as your pretty curls. Adelaine’s death has always been a great puzzle I can’t solve.”
With a soft sigh, Oriana abandoned the hope that Myrna knew more than she was telling, but at the same time, she remained firmly convinced there was still far more to discover. Fidgeting nervously, she feared the only person who could reveal the truth had either shoved, or thrown, Adelaine to her death.
“This fortress is haunted,” Oriana whispered more to herself than Myrna.
“Aye, that it is, and when so many poor souls died while laying the massive stones, it’s likely it always has been. But no ghost killed my dear Adelaine.”
“No, for if there were a murdering ghost, he or she would have tossed others to the cliffs, and that hasn’t happened, has it?”
“No, my lady. Men have died here in battles and brawls, and some like Cadell in their beds. Countless women have also died here, but none as tragically as Adelaine, or without a single witness.”
Oriana could accept a natural death, but the day’s likely prospect of a murderous brawl forced her from her chair. She smoothed out her curls, and taking the comb, pressed Myrna’s hands between her own. “I must go now, but thank you. I may call on you again. I should not want anyone to blame me for careless grooming and laugh at Egan.”
Pleased to be needed, Myrna glowed with pride. “He calls you his wife.”
“Yes, I know. Now let’s hurry to see what the day will bring.”
Easily distracted, Myrna had forgotten her promise to make Oriana eat. She shrugged as she led the way out into the corridor. “It can’t bring much until Kieran is pried from his bed.”
Oriana cared little whether it was drink or pleasure that kept him there, but with Egan clear-headed, he was bound to have the advantage. “Husband,” she murmured under her breath, and though the word sounded strange on her tongue, she loved to hear it.
Egan had discussed the advantages of a swim over a mountain climb or archery competition with Albyn, but as the crowd began to gather in the courtyard, he cared little what form the contest took. His only interest was in bringing their challenge to a swift end so that he might spend all his time making love to Oriana.