Free Elizabeth McBride by Arrow of Desire

numerous times in the past."
    "Och. That was a long time ago." She glanced at the
men and then at Mhoire. "Anyway, they look peaceful
enough now, don't they?"
    They certainly did. Mhoire frowned as she watched the
big warriors contentedly shovel food in their mouths. They
were an ill-kempt bunch, in their stained tunics and scuffed
boots. But they looked quite tame. Indeed, all of their attention seemed to be devoted to two benign tasks: getting food in their stomachs and stealing surreptitious glances at
Elanta.

    "And where's your leader then this morning?" Brigit
called over to the men. "Or is he such a tough one he
doesn't need to eat?"
    "Drosten, you mean? Oh, he loves his food as well as
any of us. But you won't find him cleaning himself up for
breakfast because a woman says so." His mouth split in a
good-natured grin.
    "Aye, that's for sure." A bear of a man with a red beard
glanced around at his colleagues and gestured with his
spoon. "That's how he lost his last wife, remember?"
    Mhoire stilled. His last wife?
    "Fionna," Brian stated. The men all nodded.
    "Who's Fionna?" Elanta asked.
    Brian leaned forward conspiratorially. "A beautiful princess." The rest of the men nodded again. "The daughter of
Domangart mac Bili. She and Drosten were betrothed to
marry. He would have been king of the province if he had
married her."
    "What happened?" Elanta's attention was riveted on
Brian. Even Brigit had her ears cocked. Mhoire kept her
eyes lowered on her empty bowl.
    "Ah. It was quite a scandal-" Brian looked around and
lowered his voice. "Drosten was daft for her."
    Daft for her? Mhoire felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. Against her will, she leaned slightly forward.
    The red-bearded man spoke with his mouth full: "She
had yellow hair."
    "Aye," Brian added. There was a dreamy look in his
eyes. "A tall woman. Huge purple eyes and-" He colored
and cleared his throat. "Well, like I said, Drosten was daft
for her. But he had responsibilities, you see. The Britons
were raising hell along the border, and we was out chasing
them constantly."
    Suddenly, the red-bearded man reached out and clapped
Brian on the shoulder. "That's when you sliced off your
first head, lad. Remember that, do you, eh?"

    Color crept up Brian's neck. "I do that, aye, Fergus." He
managed to look embarrassed and smug at the same time.
    "Only sixteen, he was." Fergus's grin showed a row of
teeth as tangled as his hair and beard. "We knew he'd be
a grand fighter. Sliced it clean like he was taking the top
off a radish."
    "So tell us about the princess, lad," Brigit demanded.
"Enough about you."
    "Oh, aye, well-" Brian looked around again. Clearly,
this was gossip. "Fionna rejected Drosten. Chose another
man."
    The women cast astonished looks at each other. Pictish
princesses clearly had more autonomy than most Irish or
Scottish females.
    "It was shortly before the wedding," Brian continued,
"and Drosten and all of us had ridden right to her father's
fort from one of the worst battles we had been in." The
men nodded, remembering. "Drosten had this gash in his
head where a Briton had gotten him with an axe. We
couldn't believe he could even stay on his horse, but he
had promised Fionna he'd be there, so be there we had to
be. Well, we got to her father's fort, and we was all eating
in the hall." Brian lowered his voice even more. Everyone
inched closer. "Right in the middle of supper, she announced it to Drosten, just like that. Told him she was
marrying Uurgust. `Drosten,' she said, `you're uncivilized.
I can't marry you.' Everyone heard it."
    "That's horrible," Elanta whispered.
    "Aye. Twas." Brian shook his head. "Drosten, he just
stood up and walked away. Didn't say a word. Pale as a
ghost, he was. Then we all got back on our horses and rode
home."
    "He's never been the same since," Fergus said mournfully. "Not near as much fun in him."
    "Won't have nothing to do with women, either," Brian
said, lifting