Page 29 of Darro

He considered apologizing, placing the bucket on the floor and leaving, but that would likely make her even angrier. Instead he brought the water over and refilled the jug before carrying the basin into the adjoining privy to empty the water she had used. He took his time with the emptying, and heard her moving around the room.

When he came out with the basin he saw that Esme had dressed in a gown that was too big for her and masked her curves. She held the bodice up with one hand pressed between her chebs, and as he approached her she turned her back on him.

“Well?” she said after he poured the hot water from the bucket into the empty basin. “You wouldn’t leave, so can’t you help me, or do I have to send for Elspeth?”

Darro looked at her bare back showing through the loosened lacing of her gown, and imagined kissing his way from her nape to her ankles. Her anger aroused him almost as much as her dark beauty. At the same time the now-familiar fear overtook him, but this time he was prepared for it.

Be patient, Rory had advised him. In time the magic shall dissipate.

“’Tisnae my place to dress you, my lady.” Darro wanted to, but the fear spell already had his hands shaking. If he touched her gown he might rip it from her body, or panic and run from her. “I shall fetch the maid.”

“Don’t go,” she said, stopping him midway to the door. “I don’t care about the dress. Stay and talk to me. Explain why you chose that huge man with the pretty face to spar around with or whatever you were doing. If it was practice, why were you bleeding? You’re supposed to be training for battle, okay, not making each other too hurt to fight.”

Now a hot, dark tide of jealousy rose inside Darro, crowding aside the fear. Did she find Rory that handsome? Would she regret coshing him so much she’d try to apologize to him later? How would the armorer regard Esme? As far as anyone knew he’d never taken a lover before now, would she become his first woman? She was so beautiful he couldn’t imagine any man refusing her.

Stop imagining such things.

Slowly he turned, and spoke as carefully as he could. “The armorer is the only other man among us of my size. He’s stronger, but I’m swifter. We dinnae indulge in many bouts, for neither of us enjoy pain. When we choose to spar, we hold naught back. We ken we shall heal.”

“And you’re fine with hurting each other because the magic here makes it all better?” she demanded, her voice growing sharper. “What if everything changes and then one day it doesn’t?”

She was referring to the alterations in the enchantment, which he’d never before considered. “’Tis possible, aye.”

Esme walked up to him, releasing her hold on her bodice to study his battered face. She seemed oblivious to how much of her curves the sagging gown revealed. “I hate that you fight. I hate that he hurt you, even for a few hours. I hate all of this. Stop doing it.”

“I cannae,” he said. “’Tis my duty.”

“Your duty makes me want to spit,” she muttered, folding her arms around her waist. “This place does, too. You’re the only thing that smells good here, and you let another guy beat you until you bleed, you silly man. Why do I even like you so much? I’m going to get a sling so I can hit you in the head with a rock next time you do something stupid.”

If their way of living made Esme hate being caught in the spell trap after only a few days, how would she cope with being imprisoned with them for eternity? He ducked his head to hide his worry, and then saw the full, ripe curves of her chebs pushed up by the position of her arms. They seemed just about to spill through the sagging bodice, as if she wanted him to see that much of her naked. The skin of her body appeared just as smooth and golden as the rest of her, and he wanted to stroke it so much he took hold of her shoulders and turned her away from him.

Remain steady, and talk with her. She needs comforting.

“I share your hatred of this place,” Darro told her softly as he began lacing up the gown. “Some mornings I go to the solar and shout at our wretched fate until my voice dies. I’ve tried every method in my head to escape, to test the boundaries, and to find weakness in the spell that imprisons us. ’Tis changed naught, but after I do such things I may attend my duties with a semblance of calm.”

“That look you put on when you’re being a chieftain,” Esme said, glancing back at him. “With everything closed and your eyes guarded. Is that what you mean by calm?”

“Aye. ’Tis a burden, serving as the laird’s second. The weight grows so heavy it seems crushing. Only Tasgall is my blood-brother, and he trusts no one as much as me.” He couldn’t believe he’d told her such things, and hated the sound of his whining. At the same time the relief he experienced in revealing such seemed especially sweet. As he finished securing her laces he added, “I’m accustomed to my position, and ’tis an honor that the laird depends on me.”

“Don’t do that.” Esme whirled around and took hold of his arms. “You have the right to resent this place and what they expect you to do. You can want it to be different. I’ve had the same thoughts my whole life.”

“I’m no’ a small man. I’ve all this power.” Speaking this truth hurt, but at least she would understand. “Yet here I’m as helpless as a bairn.”

“I get it,” she told him, as if she’d heard his thoughts. “For a long time I hated myself for being born a Chicana. I wanted to look golden and tall and beautiful like Grace, not dark and little and homely.”

“Och, lass, you’re all over golden,” Darro insisted, and touched her smooth cheek. “Like the last rays of sunset, or so I remember them, just before the night comes. Aye, and you’re so bright and lively that every man turns his head when you come into a chamber.”

“One of the guards asked me if I’ve had my first moon time.” She gave him a wan smile. “I guess he wanted to know if I’m old enough for other things.”

“’Twas Sawney?” he demanded as he pulled her closer. “When you told him, did he ask you to share his bed?”

“Yes, it was him, but no, he wasn’t interested in having sex with me.” Esme wrinkled her nose. “He has three maids who share him, you know? He must have a lot of energy. Anyway, there’s no more room in his bed. He just cautioned me about taking more than one lover because I’m small.”

In that moment Darro knew he should leave. The fear had gone, and now his hands refused to stop stroking her back. The sweet gale scent of her sank into him as heady and dizzying as drinking three jugs of warm whiskey. In another moment he would have to kiss her on the mouth, and the taste of her would drive him out of his mind. He could see himself using his dagger to slice through the laces he’d just tied on her gown, and stripping her down until he could see and touch every inch of her sweet wee body.

Yet if he did that, and the fear overtook him again while he loved her, he might run from her again. She would never forgive him for that.

“I told him I was only interested in a friend with benefits, and there’s just one McKeran who suits me.” She looked up at him through her dark lashes, her eyes bright with mischief. “Can you guess who that is, or should I give you some hints? He’s big but he’s not Rory. He’s quiet. He has the most beautiful eyes of any man I’ve ever met.”