Part 16 (2/2)
His touch was so gentle that it amazed her. He showed a kindness with her that she would never have thought him capable of.
And in the back of her mind, she wondered what he would be like as a husband.
Would he listen, or would he be like the others of his kind and shut her out merely because she had been born the wrong gender?
Nora, what are you thinking?
The man is wholly unsuitable.
Truly he was. Big, hulking.
With kind blue eyes that glittered with tormented pain.
She shook her head to clear it of the thought as she rejoined the gypsies.
Viktor and Bavel were sitting in front of the fire, smoking from pipes and drinking ale as they chatted together. Lysander was off to the side of them, lying down with his arms crossed over his chest, and appeared to be dozing, while Catarina was making dinner. Pagan sat beside the fire, whittling a small piece of wood with a curved dagger.
It was a strangely cozy scene.
Catarina waved her over while Ewan left her to join the men around the fire.
”So he found you,” she said as Nora drew near.
”Aye.”
”He was worried about you.”
”That's what he said.”
”Nay, my lady,” she said, her eyes burning her with a deep sincerity. ”I don't think you really understand what I mean. He was.e.xtremely concerned for your welfare. Have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”
Nay, she hadn't really paid much attention. ”What way is that?”
”Like a beggar before a banquet. He has hungry eyes where you are concerned.”
Nora scoffed at the idea. Ewan barely noticed her, and when he did, he seemed always to be peeved by her very presence. ”You are mistaken.”
”He watches every move you make.”
Nora glanced around to where Ewan sat with Viktor and Bavel. True to Catarina's words, his intense gaze was on her, but as soon as he realized she was looking, he averted his eyes.
”See,” Catarina said.
”You make too much of it.”
”Perhaps. But what do you make of it?”
”I make nothing of it.”
”Nothing?” she asked incredulously. ”Then you've no wish to claim him as your own?”
Nora was slightly aghast at the thought, though to be honest, she wasn't as aghast as she would have been the day she met him.
”Nay, never,” she said quickly. ”I'm bound to my aunt's in England. Ewan is... Well, I'm sure he'd like to return home and forget the day he ever awoke to find me in his cave.”
Catarina cast a speculative look to him. ”He would make a fine husband to some lucky woman. He's a handsome one, to be sure.”
”Aye, he is.”
”Strong. Quite charming, I think.”
Nora frowned at her gus.h.i.+ng praise. Just what did she mean by that?
”Not too charming,” Nora said as she helped stir their stew. ”Rather moody and quiet, to be truthful. He can be rather rude when the mood strikes.”
”They say still waters run deep...”
Nora paused as she watched Catarina's face while the woman looked to where Ewan sat with the others. The woman's beautiful features were dreamy and glowing.
Speculative, one might even say.
Nora didn't care for the look of her at all. ”What are you thinking?”
”Just that if you're not interested in him, perhaps I should give it a try. I haven't found any man to equal one like him. He is one of a kind, and I happen to be fascinated by his earthy ways and rugged bearing.”
Nora's heart sank at the thought of Catarina and Ewan embracing. Of the thought of Catarina doing anything with Ewan.
”The thought bothers you, doesn't it?” Catarina asked as she looked back and caught her gaping stare.
Nora closed her mouth and started to lie, but couldn't quite manage one. It bothered her much more than it should, and it made her want to do nasty things to Catarina for even hinting she was interested in Ewan.
Catarina smiled. ”Tell me, Nora, have you ever heard of the works of Rowena de Vitry?”
Nora was thrilled to find another person who knew and loved bardic tales. ”Aye! The Lady of Love is one of my favorite troubadours.”
”Then you are familiar with the 'Romance de Silence'?”
”Nay, is it new?”
”Fairly.” Catarina added the vegetables she had been cutting, then took the ladle from Nora and stirred them into the pot.
Catarina tapped the ladle twice against the pot, then set it aside. ”It's the story of a woman in love with a man she sees every year at a fair. She watches him as he grows to love another, and as the years pa.s.s, she sees him with his wife, his children and such until he is an old man. On his deathbed, she goes to him and tells him of her love. That she has been dreaming of him since he was ten and eight and she just a bright-eyed maiden. That because of him she never married and never knew any happiness except in her dreams, where she could pretend he was hers.”
Nora's throat tightened in sympathetic pain. It was a tribute to Rowena's wonderful imagination that she had written such a tragic tale. ”How sad.”
Catarina wiped her hands on her skirt. ”Aye, but the saddest part of all is that right before he dies, he confesses to her that he always loved her as well. That he would go to the fair every year just so that he could watch her from afar, but since she refused to even meet his gaze, he a.s.sumed she felt nothing for him. So the two of them spent the whole of their lives aching for what they could have had, had they just talked to one another.”
”How tragic.”