fell silent. The gentle touch warmed her skin, and her cheeks flushed. Though it was nothing more than the touch of friendship, she’d never expected to feel this uneasy around him.
This is Gunnar, Auder reminded herself. There’s no reason to be nervous. His interest lies in Clár, not you.
She tried to take a breath, but it was as if the air around her had grown thicker. She saw his mouth tighten in a thin line, and his grip upon her hands grew protective. An invisible cord drew her to him, and she noticed things she hadn’t seen before. There was a darker gray ring around his eyes, and he’d taken a blade to his cheeks, shaving them clean. She wondered what his skin would feel like against her fingertips. Or his mouth, heated and demanding upon hers.
Her embarrassment deepened when she saw his expression transform. He was looking at her as though he wanted to act upon her desires. Like he wanted to take her face between his hands and kiss her senseless.
“Auder,” he murmured, his tone darkening. She could almost hear his unspoken warning that she’d come too close.
To distract herself, she brought her attention to his worn hands, which were callused and scraped. “You’ve been working on the new wall, haven’t you?” Turning his palms toward the light, she saw several splinters. She edged one of them out, and he pulled his hands back as if he didn’t want her touching him.
“It’s nearly completed.”
The shielded distance was back, and with it, the awkward silence. Since she’d met him, she’d rarely seen him unoccupied. Gunnar enjoyed building, creating structures with his hands. His home was one of the nicest she’d ever seen, with tight walls and a strong foundation.
Auder frowned at his skinned flesh. “Clár won’t like what you’ve done to yourself.” She deliberately mentioned the widow, to remind herself that Gunnar was involved with someone else.
“Clár is used to my rough hands.”
With that remark, Auder had the sudden vision of Gunnar’s callused fingertips moving over her own body. Her skin flushed, and an ache formed within her breasts. What was the matter with her? She knew better than to entertain such foolish thoughts. Immediately, she shut the thought away, refusing to think of it.
“I imagine she is.” Auder glanced outside the cashel, feeling the sudden need to escape the boundaries. She wanted a walk to clear her head. “I’m going outside for a few moments.”
“Not with them out there.” He blocked her path, resting his hand upon the battleaxe hanging from his waist. “You’re safer inside.”
“They’re camped a few miles away, and I won’t go far. I just need…to get out for a few moments.” The very walls of the cashel felt like a prison, closing in on her. If she could gather even a few moments of freedom, she could endure what lay ahead. She gripped her hands into fists so tight, the knuckles whitened. “You can come along and guard me if you want.”
Discontent lined his face, and she suspected he wouldn’t allow it. If it weren’t for his promise to Morren, no doubt he’d be enjoying the feast with Clár at his side.
But when she repeated her plea, at last he shrugged. “For a short time. And not any further than the river bend.”
She let out a slow breath of air. “Thank you.”
Gunnar walked with her along the edge of the river. The waters were higher than usual, from all the rain. Most of the homes were elevated, to protect them from flooding, but nevertheless, she didn’t like the look of the swollen water or the brooding clouds.
Auder sat down in the grass, letting her ankles dangle over the water, the scent of fresh greenery surrounding her. In a few more months, the hills would blossom with gorse and heather, exuding rich colors. But she wouldn’t be here to see them.
Gunnar remained standing beside her, his hand resting upon the battleaxe at his waist. He stared out at their land boundaries, searching for any threat. There was a different edge to him, and she found herself watching him. Her awareness deepened, even as she warned herself not to fall into that snare.
He held a warrior’s stance, and it seemed that every sense was attuned to danger. His eyes never left the perimeter, constantly searching.
Gunnar kept his grip upon his battleaxe, his mood growing as dark as the fading landscape. Although a marriage alliance was a civilized method of bringing the Normans and Irish together, he didn’t trust the invaders. And the idea of handing Auder Ó Reilly over to their leader infuriated him.
She was far too good for the Normans. She was beautiful and shy, and nearly every man among his tribe and the Ó Reillys was infatuated with her. Her height rose well above most women, and when she stood, her mouth rested at his chin. She kept her hair tightly braided against her scalp, but below her nape, it hung free, down to her waist. It was a mixture of brown and red, almost like autumn leaves. Her eyes were blue and green, ever-changing in color.
“Tell me why, Auder,” he demanded. “And don’t give me reasons about protecting your clan. You hardly lived among them.”
She wouldn’t look at him, letting her wrists rest upon her knees. “You saw the soldiers. They want control of our cashel, and we can’t withstand another attack. If my marriage will bring us together without fighting, it’s for the best.”
“That’s not your reason. I know you better than that.” He sat down beside her, reaching for her hand. It was stained red, and it evoked memories of when she’d been a girl, and he’d met her four summers ago. Each time he’d seen her, she’d had a different color of hands. One day blue, another day green. She’d been awkward then, with no curves to speak of, and a rounder face. More than once, he’d defended her against the taunts of foolish young boys.
He’d seen the promise of beauty in Auder the girl. But even then, he’d never suspected how beautiful she would be as a woman.
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