Deirdre Read Online Free

a high aspiration, milady,” Orna offered without conviction.
    Deirdre struggled not to laugh at her attendant’s confoundment as to why a princess with so many more prospects than she found academic study and discussion preferable to marriage. “Aye, it is,” she reflected, straight-faced. “And far easier than having to live with a man one simply doesn’t understand.”
    Relieved for the common ground Deirdre offered, Orna nodded eagerly. “Aye, that it is. I cannot for the life of me explain why Core of Dromin did not come to see us away as he promised most fervently last eve. I vow, the only
heart
he has lies in his name.”
    “Moonlight passion cools in the warmth of the sun, or so I’ve heard.”
    “His kiss did warm me like the sun never has,” Orna admitted. “And I am considerably cooled this day and see him in a much clearer light.”
    “Ah, I see.” At least in theory, Deirdre mused. Moonlight passion is hotter than the sun and addles clear thought … like too much sun.
    Her thoughts shifted instantly to her ailing father. He’d not been well since he married his younger brother’s widow, a woman scarcely a decade Deirdre’s senior. Dealla had boldly flirted with him before hisgrown children and all Gleannmara, though their sainted mother was scarcely cold in the tomb. Enough gossip circulated about the winter-summer affair as it was, echoing the sentiments that filled the air when their uncle Eber had taken Dealla as his wife years before. At the time, all Deirdre knew was that it was difficult to call a woman so few years her senior
aunt
, and impossible to call her
mother.
At his brother’s funeral, even Fergal confided that Eber’s marriage to a woman half his age was enough to kill the aging warrior. So why had her father up and done the very same thing?
    Now he was so weak that the news of Cairell’s abduction sent him to bed. Proof positive that passion addled the brain and the physical constitution, at least for some. Deirdre frowned. Why was her father so affected?
    Biting back the question teetering on her lips, she glanced at her attendant. There was no point in asking Orna if too much, or perhaps ill-matched, passion could really drain a body of health. The maid was no more keen than she of such things. Well, perhaps a mite more, Deirdre conceded. Orna had at least been warmed by a kiss, where Deirdre had found kisses a curious physical attempt by her suitors to win her favor.
    “You ladies appear to be enjoying this glorious day that the Lord has made,” Father Scanlan commented as he joined them, folding his coarse gray-frocked arms on the rail.
    “Aye, and I’ve enjoyed all I can stand, save taking a fatal chill,” Orna answered with a shiver. “Lady Deirdre, will you have your cloak now?”
    Deirdre shook her head, dismissing the attendant in silence. Piece by piece, she was getting to the core of what troubled her most about this mission, that burr which was hidden by the obvious.
    “Something weighs heavily on your mind, milady. Perhaps you’d care to share it with me?” Scanlan’s look was enshrouded in compassion. His perception was uncanny but slightly off the mark, just as her own had been. He believed, as had she until this moment, that her mission alone furrowed her young brow in the midday sun, when, in truth, it merely deepened it. Faith, she had been loathe to leave her father, seeing how frail he’d become.
    In particular, she’d not wanted to leave him with Dealla.
    “Do you think Father has been drugged by my stepmother?” As the compassionate fix of his dark Irish features gave way to wide-eyed shock, she explained quickly, “His health has faded since their marriage.”
    “Your father is aging, milady. From what I’ve seen, your stepmother has helped him regain a portion of his youth. Remember, your mother’s death left him old beyond his years.” His words were slowed by a concerted effort at tact. “Besides, what possible gain is there for