Page 54 of Summer Warrior

“You spoke of King David’s summoning you to war. Do you think it likely?”

“Aye,” he said, turning his goblet in his long fingers, the silver catching the light from the candles. “Unless King David changes his course, I think it inevitable.”

“If you will allow, I worry for your safety.”

He smiled at her, his piercing blue eyes intense in the candlelight. “I will not only allow it, Princess, I encourage it. Nothing would please me more than to know your thoughts are of me when I am gone.”

She could not look away. “I will do more, Lord Somerled. I will pray for your safe return for it means much to me.”

The look he gave her spoke of his happiness at her words.

The connection between them had grown stronger, a cord that would forever bind them to each other no matter what would come. Her heart moved for this man and no other. She could not bear to think of his falling in battle.

During the meal, as the minstrels played, a juggler entertained them. Ragnhild watched the juggler even as she felt keenly Somerled’s presence beside her. She wished they could be alone so he could kiss her again. From his looks, she thought he might be thinking the same thing.

Afterward, a bard came forward to stand before the king. “Your Grace, if you allow, I have composed a poem for your guest, Lord Somerled.”

“Say on,” said her father.

Accompanied by the lyre, the bard began to recite.

Great Somerled stands in the prow

Winds swirling, waves crashing, there is no fear now.

Lord of Argyll, Kintyre and Lorne, calm now the seas.

The foe flees before him, broken against the breeze.

Great Somerled, keep free our shore.

Invaders fear; they will come no more.

His galley skims o’er the crested wave.

Great Somerled, the warrior brave!

A roar of “Somerled!” arose from his men and was echoed about the hall. Some got to their feet and lifted tankards of ale in salute. Ragnhild knew many on the isle were grateful for Somerled’s coming, aware he was the one helping to keep the sea lanes free and the pirates from their shores.

The shouts died down as Somerled stood and bowed. “I thank you for your welcome and gracious ode.” Resuming his seat, he turned to her. “Did you have something to do with this, Princess?”

Ragnhild averted her gaze. “Only to challenge the bard. The verses were his.” Then turning back to him with a hopeful expression, “Do you like it?”

“I can hardly complain of such gallant verses though they nearly made me blush.”

She chuckled as she shifted her gaze to the table where Gillecolum was sitting, a wide smile on the boy’s face. “Your son seemed to like the poem. His was the loudest shout.”

“Aye. He sees only a father he has long missed.”

“I believe he sees more, as do I.”

After the evening concluded, Somerled asked her if she might step outside with him. Making sure they were not seen, she found their cloaks and led him through the castle door, nodding to the guard as they passed.

“There is a place at the side of the castle where long shadows will afford us privacy.”

“Lead on,” he encouraged.

Once they arrived at the place where their presence would not be detected by the guards on the ramparts, she turned to him. “Will you kiss me again?”