She knew every hill and stream, all the footpaths through the forests farther south, and never lost her way there, but Egan had taken her into unfamiliar territory. She rejoiced in the tranquillity of the woods after a harrowing day, but sunset brought a cool breeze and inspired the necessary industry to keep the fire burning bright.
The gathering dusk had deepened to a soft purple haze before Egan reappeared, but he was carrying three good-sized fish, and Oriana greeted him warmly. “You appear to be an excellent fisherman at any hour, and those shouldn’t take long to cook.”
Rather than move toward the fire, Egan stood back and left his catch dangling from his line. “Who fishes for you, Oriana? Who hunts to provide game for your table? Is it some lovesick man or boy, or do the gods come with the rising moon and leave delectable meals on your doorstep?”
He was taunting her again, and Oriana moved to place the crackling fire between them. “It’s foolish to laugh at me, Egan, for you’ll have great need of me once we reach your home. Or perhaps you’re as sorry as I am that we ever struck a bargain. If so, I’ll gladly leave you now, and you’ll be able to return home without the bother of my annoying company.”
“Oh, no,” Egan chided. “With things as dire as you predict, I dare not let you go.” He took a step toward her, and when she again s
hied away from him, he doubted being ridiculed was her real worry. Such fearful innocence in a beautiful woman was amusing when it was so unnecessary, and turning his attention to the fish, he knelt to remove them from his line.
“You are lovely, Oriana, but I have more than my share of willing women and won’t force myself on you. I’d be a poor champion if I did, now, wouldn’t I?”
Oriana was surprised by what struck her as a bizarre change of subject, but she would not encourage Egan by denying his ludicrous assumption. She already thought him a poor champion, but despite her offer, she was too sore and tired to leave him that night. She watched him fashion a rack from green branches, and when he placed it over the fire and lay the fish across it, it occurred to her that he frequently cooked his own meals.
“You travel often,” Oriana mused aloud.
“Aye, that I do,” Egan replied, and he slowly wound his fishing line around his fingers.
He was avoiding her glance, which was so unlike him, Oriana became very curious. “Why? Are you merely seeking adventure, or driven to escape a vexing situation at home?”
Oriana had Egan’s full attention now, and the fire clearly illuminated the disgusted downward curve of his mouth. “The last time I left home, it was to find you.”
“No,” she replied softly. “Finding me was a convenient excuse. You wanted to leave. Nay, needed to get away. Why?”
Oriana’s bright curls caught the fire’s flickering light, but what Egan saw was her own seductive glow. He reminded himself that she claimed to know the future rather than the past, but he could not shake the horrible sensation that she understood more than he would ever want to reveal.
“Why?” he repeated hoarsely.
“Yes, why? It’s now your turn to entertain me, Egan. Tell me about your parents and your childhood. Did you foster with another wealthy family? Have you handsome brothers and perhaps several pretty sisters with your dark hair and blue eyes?”
The scent of burning fish prompted Egan to stoop and turn their supper, but the mention of family had taken the edge off his appetite. He rose but kept his attention focused on the fire. “My story is not nearly as engaging as yours, Oriana.”
“I’m still eager to hear it,” she replied.
Egan nodded reluctantly, but he waited until the fish were cooked and he and Oriana were seated to eat before he began. Even then, he parceled out his tale between lengthy pauses as they sampled their simple fare.
“My mother fell to her death when I was small. My father mourned her loss deeply, but was eventually enticed from his grief by a beautiful young girl named Ula.
“They wed and had a son, but while Kieran and I are related by blood, we’ve never been brothers. Ula intended for me to foster with her family, but I refused, and my father lacked the heart to make me go.
“The Druid I mentioned, Albyn, he and I spent our youth hunting, raising falcons, and racing horses. Then he was drawn to the Druid’s life and left to seek their knowledge. Since then, I’ve traveled often, but on my own.”
Despite her hunger, Oriana listened attentively with an ear to the emotion underlying Egan’s words. Clearly he was his father’s son, but he held no trace of affection for his stepmother or half brother. She could readily imagine him as a handsome youth violently opposing any suggestion Ula made. Now he apparently avoided conflict by frequent travel. The thought that he must miss his father as greatly as she missed her mother filled her with sorrow.
“Then you’ve grown up as alone as I,” Oriana murmured thoughtfully, surprised to find they shared an unexpected kinship.
Egan watched Oriana cut a slice each of bread and cheese, and wondered how she could draw any comparison between them. “At least I know my father,” he remarked, and then instantly regretted being so unkind.
While hurt, Oriana pretended a rapt fascination with her last bite of fish rather than meet Egan’s gaze. “I’ll not argue with you, but simply remind you of my warning.”
Finished with his meal, Egan brushed the last crumbs from his hands. “I’ve not forgotten. You believe I’m in some terrible danger and that the lives of my loved ones are at risk.”
“Indeed,” Oriana whispered, understanding now that his father was the only person who could be described as such. “But there’s more.”
Egan rested his arms on his knees and leaned toward her. “More terrible danger? You saw how easily I defeated Duncan, and few men could give me a tougher battle.”
He had a remarkably expressive face, but Oriana’s glance lingered on his eyes. “Someone is dead. A man, I believe, and I fear it’s your father.”