Nell by Jeanette Baker Page B

held out his hands to the licking flames. Where was Nell?
    As if in answer to his silent question, she stepped out of the shadows. “Welcome, Donal,” she said softly, and smiled.
    He turned quickly, all thoughts of comfort forgotten. His mouth dropped, and the cool implacability for which he was known disappeared entirely from his face. It had been nearly a year since he had really seen her, and now he looked his fill.
    Her face was thinner than he remembered, the bones sharp and clean under her skin. Her mouth was wide, her teeth even and white. Winged brows slightly darker than her hair framed hazel eyes that carried equal amounts of green and brown and gold, harvest colors, the same gold as her hair that hung loose, thick, and straight to her knees. He had never seen her hair loose. He imagined it wrapped around his hand, and his fingers curled. She was small, but no man alive would find fault with her figure. Donal could see the pulse moving at the base of her throat. Christ. Had celibacy affected his brain, or was she truly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen?
    â€œNell,” he whispered hoarsely.
    â€œGerald lives,” she said, not moving from her place.
    She would not be coming with him to Aughnanure. Donal willed his expression into smooth lines of pleasure. “Thank God.”
    â€œYou will take us to Desmond?”
    â€œAye.”
    Why were they discussing this? She was his betrothed. They hadn’t seen each other in a year, and they were alone in a warm, comfortable room.
    Nell frowned. “Donal, are you pleased to see me?”
    He looked startled. “Of course. Why would you ask such a question?”
    Her eyes widened innocently. “Are your legs made of wood that they can no longer move?”
    He turned his back to her and stared into the fire. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. She was very good with words. He’d forgotten that. But he’d driven his men through the thick of winter to protect her, and still she insisted on taking Gerald to Desmond. If the great earl of Desmond cared so much for his cousin, where was he? Donal had every intention of keeping his promise, but first Nell must come to him.
    â€œDonal?” She sounded worried.
    â€œI can hear, Nell.” He turned around. “Perhaps ’tis I who should ask the questions.”
    She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œAre you pleased to see me?”
    The color left her cheeks. She nearly ran across the room to where he stood and clutched his arm. “I’ve thought of nothing but you for months. Our marriage is fated, Donal. There is no one else for me.”
    He lifted her chin and stared steadily into her eyes. “Why, then, will you not bring the boy and come home with me?”
    She answered honestly. “You are not Geraldine. Henry has no quarrel with you. I would not risk your house for mine.”
    His hand tightened on her chin. “Leave Gerald with Desmond and come with me. He is of an age to be fostered.”
    Her hand rested on his chest. All at once, Donal found it difficult to breathe. “I will,” she said, “as soon as he is well.”
    He released his breath. “Leonard Gray came to me this morning. Henry demands Gerald’s surrender.” He squeezed her hand. “Your father and Silken Thomas are dead, Nell.”
    She nodded. “I have already mourned. ’Tis Gerald I must think of now.”
    â€œWe must leave immediately.”
    Nell rested both hands on his chest and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Surely not immediately, Donal,” she said softly. “I have wine, the room is warm, and it has been such an endless length of time since I have seen you.”
    The ball of warmth that had begun in Donal’s chest when she agreed to come with him radiated into every part of his body. He blazed with heat. Taking care not to frighten her, he slipped one arm around her waist and