Page 25 of The Refuge

“’Tis Davina of Lothian,” he said.

Catrìona inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She did not know Davina well, but remembered the quiet woman with honey-gold hair and soft brown eyes, a woman of few words who was content with her needlework. “She is lovely.”

“Aye, she’ll do,” said the former sheriff, obviously pleased with the match.

“If you will excuse us, Maerleswein,” Domnall interjected, “I promised Catrìona a walk ere the evening meal begins.”

“Of course.” Maerleswein bowed and strode off to join the king’s men.

“Come.” Domnall offered his arm. “We have just enough time.”

She placed her hand on his forearm and they walked out the open door into a summer evening. The air smelled of rain and the sky was filled with gray clouds, hovering low. Angus was nowhere in sight. For at least a little while, they would be alone except for the people who came and went from the king’s tower.

She wanted to ask Domnall about his plans for the future and more precisely, when he would speak to her uncle about their betrothal, but she did not wish to appear anxious, or as the scribe would say, overbold.

“You look lovely this evening,” he said. “That color becomes you.”

He had said as much of her other gowns in former days. She was pleased but it seemed such a common remark when she wanted to hear so much more. “I am glad you approve.” If he would speak of mundane things, so would she. “How went the hunt?”

He smiled. “We will dine on roast boar and venison tonight. ’Twas a vigorous battle to bring the boar down. The king loved it. Malcolm is never more content than when he is in battle, be it against the Normans or more natural beasts.”

“Aye, he is quite the opposite of Margaret. But I think she complements him well.”

Domnall seemed to consider her words. “The Scots have accepted her.”

“How could they not?”

“Yea, the Lady of Scotland is well liked. Malcolm made a wise match, gaining a princess as well as a rich dowry.”

“I would rather speak of you,” said Catrìona, “Will you linger in Dunfermline?”

“For a while yet.” The look in his eyes told her ’twould not be long. Mayhap they would marry here and he would take her with him when he returned to Leinster. It was her most fervent wish.

“I am glad. I would not want you to leave.” With a laugh, she added, “Unless, of course, you took me with you.” When she saw Domnall’s gaze slip to the ground, she instantly regretted disclosing her thoughts.

“In time, Catrìona. All things in time.” Then looking up, he said, “You only just arrived. There is much to learn from the queen.”

Mayhap the king’s scribe had the right of it. She did tend to be too direct. More like her father than her mother. But she was not slow. Domnall had put her off and his words made her squirm inside. Something was holding him back.

“Are things well with your family?”

He was silent for a moment telling her she had hit upon a sensitive subject.

“My grandsire has passed.”

“Oh, I am sorry. Were you close?” She could not recall a time he had spoken of the man.

“Not for a long time,” was all he said. Then he changed the subject and returned to the topic of the day’s hunt, describing the fight the boar had given them.

She listened, but her mind spun with possibilities that would explain his behavior.

Finally, placing his hand over hers, he said, “We had best go in.”

Again he had refrained from speaking of their betrothal. Why?

* * *

The River Clyde loomed before her, cloaked in swirling mists. A woman’s scream pierced the air, raising a scream in her own throat. She tried to run but her feet seemed to be stuck in the sand. With great effort, she pressed forward. And then she was running, running.