Chapter Sixty-Six - Bereft

Eithne remained up on the battlements long after the last horsemen had left. Her arm wasn’t stiff from waving, as it would not have been seemly, though her cheeks felt frozen by the cold breeze which had sprung up, and she was grateful for the Frankish shawl which had arrived via a foreign pedlar only yesterday. The linen was still stiff though she simply adored the embroidery on the edges. Though not quite a bride, she felt like any woman watching her man ride away: apprehensive and heartsick.

The heirloom she wore on a gold chain around her neck. Superstition forbade her from even trying it on for size. His sister may want it back. But the thought had been a good one. It counted on the plus side of his increasingly pleasing attributes. She caught herself before the blush had chance to properly form. Last night had been a tender experience, one never to be forgotten, as they shared their hopes and dreams once the lovemaking was done.

She felt fortunate it had been Xander she encount