Read Online Elizabeth English - The Borderlands 02 by Laird of the Mist - Free Book Online
Authors: Laird of the Mist
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for it. And so," he shrugged, "I had to go."
"But they say," Deirdre said quietly,
"that the Kirallens are doing well, that this peace has made them
prosper."
"Prosperity bought by the coin of their own
dishonor! If that is doing well, lady, then I'm best off where I am."
"I see," she said thoughtfully. "But...was
that not the laird's decision? I would think his son had little choice but to
do as his father ordered. And were you not bound to obey your liege lord, as
well, whether you agreed with him or not?"
She met his gaze calmly, with only curiosity in her
expression, not the condemnation he had thought to see there. For she was
right, of course. He had been bound, had given his sworn word to obey
his laird and foster father. And he had broken it.
"There are times when a man canna stand by silent
and let wrong be done," he said defensively. "I made my choice and
the laird made his."
"And now? Do you still believe you chose
rightly?"
"I do. Of course I do," he said, though for
the first time he wondered.
She nodded thoughtfully and sat down at some distance
from him, plucking a blossom and tossing it into the pond. Alistair watched it
float upon the surface, a faerie boat bound for ports beyond mere mortal ken.
"I understand," she said. "I know all
about those kinds of choices. Once made, there is no turning back. Right or
wrong...well, they cease to matter, don't they? The only thing to do is live
with what you've chosen."
Her voice was calm, detached, but he sensed the pain
beneath her words. And that was little wonder, given the choice that she had
made! But Brodie Maxwell was her problem, not his.
He regarded her with puzzled anger, wondering what
point there had been to their uncanny Beltane meeting. But then, what point was
there to anything? Life, that seemed to offer so much, in the end gave nothing
but disillusionment and disappointment. And love was the greatest deception of
them all. He frowned, gazing at her pure profile, outlined against the shadow
of the forest.
Was it love he felt for her? He did not know, but no
woman had ever made him feel the things he was feeling now. He wanted to carry
her off on a fine white charger, to a place where no one had ever heard of
Maxwell or Kirallen and all the wrong choices they had both made could be
forgotten. He wanted to build her a tall strong castle, pile bright jewels in
her lap, slay a dragon for her sake... Was that love? Or was it only madness?
What was love, after all?
Whatever it is, 'tis not for me, Alistair thought,
flinging a stone into the pond and sinking the fragile blossom. Only a fool
would give his heart into any woman's keeping. That kind of love was nothing
but a trap, one that could break even the strongest man in the worst way, from
within. No, thank you, he thought. Married ladies—especially ones wed to madmen
such as Brodie Maxwell—were no concern of his. He had quite enough trouble as
it was.
Deirdre watched the ripples spread and lap against the
edges of her pond. But no, the pond was not hers now, not any more. It had been
spoiled for all time by the man beside her. This place would never feel the
same again, she thought sadly. Nor would she. A few words, a smile, one
kiss...and she had been changed forever. Never again could she resign herself
to life with Brodie Maxwell, not now that she understood all that she had
missed. She would not have even her dreams to sustain her, only memories of a
man she wished with all her heart she had never met.
"What brings ye here, lady?" he asked, an
impatient edge to his voice.
"Oh, am I disturbing you?" she answered
sharply. "I often come here when I am in need of solitude."
"And as these are Maxwell lands, I should offer
to remove myself?"
"Stay if you like. I am going. But I would ask
one thing before I leave you."
He glanced at her, his expression wary. "What?"
"That you say nothing to Brodie about our meeting
here, either tonight or—or that other time."
She felt the
"But they say," Deirdre said quietly,
"that the Kirallens are doing well, that this peace has made them
prosper."
"Prosperity bought by the coin of their own
dishonor! If that is doing well, lady, then I'm best off where I am."
"I see," she said thoughtfully. "But...was
that not the laird's decision? I would think his son had little choice but to
do as his father ordered. And were you not bound to obey your liege lord, as
well, whether you agreed with him or not?"
She met his gaze calmly, with only curiosity in her
expression, not the condemnation he had thought to see there. For she was
right, of course. He had been bound, had given his sworn word to obey
his laird and foster father. And he had broken it.
"There are times when a man canna stand by silent
and let wrong be done," he said defensively. "I made my choice and
the laird made his."
"And now? Do you still believe you chose
rightly?"
"I do. Of course I do," he said, though for
the first time he wondered.
She nodded thoughtfully and sat down at some distance
from him, plucking a blossom and tossing it into the pond. Alistair watched it
float upon the surface, a faerie boat bound for ports beyond mere mortal ken.
"I understand," she said. "I know all
about those kinds of choices. Once made, there is no turning back. Right or
wrong...well, they cease to matter, don't they? The only thing to do is live
with what you've chosen."
Her voice was calm, detached, but he sensed the pain
beneath her words. And that was little wonder, given the choice that she had
made! But Brodie Maxwell was her problem, not his.
He regarded her with puzzled anger, wondering what
point there had been to their uncanny Beltane meeting. But then, what point was
there to anything? Life, that seemed to offer so much, in the end gave nothing
but disillusionment and disappointment. And love was the greatest deception of
them all. He frowned, gazing at her pure profile, outlined against the shadow
of the forest.
Was it love he felt for her? He did not know, but no
woman had ever made him feel the things he was feeling now. He wanted to carry
her off on a fine white charger, to a place where no one had ever heard of
Maxwell or Kirallen and all the wrong choices they had both made could be
forgotten. He wanted to build her a tall strong castle, pile bright jewels in
her lap, slay a dragon for her sake... Was that love? Or was it only madness?
What was love, after all?
Whatever it is, 'tis not for me, Alistair thought,
flinging a stone into the pond and sinking the fragile blossom. Only a fool
would give his heart into any woman's keeping. That kind of love was nothing
but a trap, one that could break even the strongest man in the worst way, from
within. No, thank you, he thought. Married ladies—especially ones wed to madmen
such as Brodie Maxwell—were no concern of his. He had quite enough trouble as
it was.
Deirdre watched the ripples spread and lap against the
edges of her pond. But no, the pond was not hers now, not any more. It had been
spoiled for all time by the man beside her. This place would never feel the
same again, she thought sadly. Nor would she. A few words, a smile, one
kiss...and she had been changed forever. Never again could she resign herself
to life with Brodie Maxwell, not now that she understood all that she had
missed. She would not have even her dreams to sustain her, only memories of a
man she wished with all her heart she had never met.
"What brings ye here, lady?" he asked, an
impatient edge to his voice.
"Oh, am I disturbing you?" she answered
sharply. "I often come here when I am in need of solitude."
"And as these are Maxwell lands, I should offer
to remove myself?"
"Stay if you like. I am going. But I would ask
one thing before I leave you."
He glanced at her, his expression wary. "What?"
"That you say nothing to Brodie about our meeting
here, either tonight or—or that other time."
She felt the
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