Deirdre Read Online Free Page A

her in his demise, when Cairell is the undisputed heir?”
    Cairell is gone
, she wanted to say. And yet … her father’s health began to deteriorate long before all this came to pass.
    “Suppose this drugging was inadvertent,” she hypothesized. “The result of …” The age difference. That was it. “Mismatched passion!”
    “I b-beg your pardon?” Scanlan’s eyes looked ready to pop from his head.
    With analytical tenacity, Deirdre switched from the obvious to the scriptural. “We are wonderfully made, the Word says so, does it not?”
    Scanlan’s nod was slow, hesitant.
    “So when we disrupt that order, intentionally or unintentionally, we are corrupted.”
    “That all depends on—”
    “And passion outside of wedlock is corrupt,” Deirdre went on, hot on the philosophical trail. “It makes people do sinful things that they ordinarily wouldn’t think of … like David’s pursuit of Bathsheba. His brain, even his soul, was addled by his passion.” Faith, he first saw her at night, bathing no less. Moon addling was more intense than sun addling.
    Scanlan dug in with saintly resolve. “I would hardly compare Fergal’s marriage to David and Bathsheba’s story. Your father married Dealla. It is a blessed union.”
    “But physically, they are mismatched by age and hence in … um … vigor.” In truth, she could feel her cheeks gaining warmth on the sun, but she felt close to a marvelous theory backed by Scripture itself.
    The young priest retreated. “This has nothing to do with drugs or physical ailments. Nor is it a matter for man to discern, but for God.”
    “But it does! When a body ingests food that is overly rich, yet not tainted, does the stomach not turn sour? Bilious juices are manifested within the body itself, like a poisonous drug, making it ill.” She had to keep herself from clapping her hands with the thrill of this intellectual hunt. “And just as unwed passion can impair one’s sensibilities, cannot a union, mismatched in vigor—the bland with the rich—render similar health-impairing effects?”
    “Well I … I don’t know what to say.”
    “That science and Scripture concur!” Deirdre reined in the triumph she felt, lest it sound as though she delighted in what had happened, not only to her father, but to her uncle as well. “Passion must be restricted to wedlock and matched according to the order of time or, in the case of mankind, age.”
    “Yes, I do know what to say,” Scanlan announced even as blood infused his face. “This is not a fit subject for a princess but best left to physicians and scholars. How
do
your tutors deal with this unbridled curiosity and tongue of yours?”
    Soundly put in her place, Deirdre took a stubborn stand, jaw jutted for emphasis. “I
am
a scholar, or I will be when my studies are complete.” She’d hoped for more from a man as well-read as Scanlan, but he was as shortsighted as her suitors when it came to conversation beyond subjects of their interest or experience. Or comfort.
    Father, somewhere out there, there has to be someone like me, a dreamer, a thinker, someone unafraid to explore the unknown … a young, strapping, and, not quite so saintly, Saint Brendan, if You will.
    A precocious smile tugged at her lips, but she mastered it out of reverence. If God truly loved her like a father, then He would smile behind a stern countenance when she slipped into harmless mischief. His love was first and foremost, and she was certain He liked to laugh as well, what with all the truly serious matters He dealt with day in and day out. A feeling of comfort swept over her, as if she sat on her Father’s knee, as beloved as she had been as a child on Fergal’s.
    Without notice, a shout of “Sail ho!” from above drew her attentionto the sea. An approaching vessel that hadn’t been there only a few moments ago was practically upon them, as if conjured from the belly of the sea itself. Its single sail strained toward them, full of the