Black leather pants and folded boots, no doubt the same ones he had received here at Dun Farraige, completed the outfit. She saw gold rings on the small fingers of his hands and a wide gold band around the muscles of his bare upper arms—and a heavy gold torque at his neck, a torque with the heads of sea dragons at each curving end. Only a king—or a tanist—would wear something like that.
But, most of all, those strange and otherworldly eyes shone down on her once again, irises the colors of the water and of the earth, the strangest and most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.
Muriel smiled back at him, which set him to beaming. “I did not expect to see you again,” she admitted.
“Why, I cannot believe you would say such a thing! Did I not promise that I would return?”
“You did. But I know how rare it is for men to keep promises made to women they have only just met.”
“Yet I have told you, I am not an ordinary man. I am—”
“Oh, a king, a king—as you have told me many times. And I will admit to you, on this day you do indeed look like one.” She smiled up at him again, for one moment allowing him to see a little of her happiness at finding that he had indeed returned. “Yet, as I have told you just as many times, a prince is not a king.”
He sighed, though his eyes still sparkled as he gazed back at her. “Lady Muriel—please tell me what I can do, once and for all, to convince you that I am worthy of you.”
She turned away, carefully arranging the folds of her deep blue gown, smoothing the lightweight wool and inspecting it for any flaws. “Why, Prince Brendan, I was about to ask the same question of you. I was about to ask what you can do to convince me that you truly are— or will be—a king.”
She peered up at him again, pleased at the somewhat disconcerted look on his face. “Even my old serving woman tells me that I should take no chance. She says that I should not consider your offer of marriage—if indeed you still intend to make one—until after your king making, whenever that might be.”
He cocked his head. “Are you certain that I will wait that long for you? There are others who would have a prince, and gladly.”
Muriel nodded.
“I see. Well, that is all that I need to know. Good luck to you, Brendan, in choosing but one of the great crowd of young women who simply cannot wait to be your wife. Good morning to you.”
She turned to go back inside the house, but a gentle hand on her arm made her pause. “Please…do not go,” he said. “I have only just arrived. And you are right. Though I could no doubt find another to marry, there is only one whom I truly want at my side. That is why I have come back to you this day…and that is why I have brought this.”
Muriel turned to see what he wished to show her. From his black belt he untied a leather case, opened it, and held it out.
She saw a collection of beautifully worked objects in gold and copper and bronze—brooches and rings, armbands and beads, all of them gleaming and new. “Never have I seen finer work,” she whispered.
Brendan smiled. “These I intend to offer to King Murrough to secure your contract. I have come back to ask you to return to Dun Bochna with me, there to become my bride.”
Chapter Seven
Bride. The word echoed in Muriel’s mind. She turned to meet Brendan’s eyes and knew that he meant what he had said.
She had a decision to make.
“Brendan…you already know my story. You have seen my sisters. You know why I fear to marry any man but a king.”
“I know all these things. But do I know whether you love me?”
He stepped close to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, bending his head down so that he could look directly into her eyes. He was so close that she could sense the warmth of his body in the cool morning air, feel the heat of his hands through the fabric of her gown, see the gleam in his eyes
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