The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 24

Later in the evening, Brienna was sitting in her room, working on a piece of tapestry by candlelight because she had promised Lasair back in the village that she would. Their conversation had been too short; Brienna knew if they had had more time to talk, she would have let loose all her reservations about marrying Donnall, which went beyond just her sadness that her father would not be attending the wedding. But since the wedding would happen anyway, the least she could do was not let her old nursemaid down by showing her a chest full of shoddy needlework when she arrived in a few weeks.

Someone knocked lightly on her door, and Brienna beckoned them enter, thinking it was Isobel come to rehash the drama of what had happened in the great hall earlier, however it was not Isobel—it was Donnall.

He had to bend nearly double to get through the small doorway. Once inside he looked sheepish, like he was not expecting to find her alone; indeed, it was hardly proper for him to visit her at night without an announcing it, and her without a chaperone. Brienna felt herself longing for Lasair, but she stood, put down her sewing, and bowed her head in greeting.

"Good evening," she said.

"Forgive me for coming to you like this," Donnall said, his voice in a breathy whisper. He looked around as if he would find an excuse for his visit in the furnishings of her room. "Ah," he said, gaze settling on the window. "My room faces the hill, and I was hoping to see the cliffs over the sea from a good vantage point."

He walked to her window tepidly, and Brienna felt like if she made too loud a sound he would jump like a scared mouse and scurry away.

"My window faces the meadow," she said apologetically.

Donnall had reached it and was looking out.

"I see," he said. "Too bad."

He sounded so truly disappointed that Brienna felt sorry for him.

"But perhaps if you lean out a little, you could catch a glimpse of it," she offered.

Donnall slid his long torso along the sill, poking his head out far enough that he must have been able to see almost around the other side of the castle. Brienna looked at his spindly legs anchoring him to the floor and thought that, by just lifting him up like she would a wheelbarrow, she could tip him right out the window and be done with this whole wedding business for good.

Her stifled giggle made him pull back inside the room so he could face her.

"My romantic notions amuse you?" he asked, insult twitching in his eyes.

"No," Brienna said. "It is rare to meet a man who is as interested in nature as he is in politics."

Donnall seemed appeased by this praise and idled near the window. Standing so near him, Brienna felt dwarfed by his teetering frame, which always appeared on the edge of tipping over. He reminded her of a tall birch about to be felled.

"No more rare than a woman who can hold her own in a conversation about the intricacies of war," he complimented her, recalling their dinner conversation.

Brienna nodded her head in thanks. It occurred to her that she'd always been intelligent, but it was Llewellyn who had given her the proficiency in such topics as strategy and diplomacy. However, she knew better than to express her gratitude to another man in the ears of her betrothed.

"I'm so glad to see that my queen will be not only beautiful, but also wise," Donnal went on, reaching out and taking her hand.

His touch was unexpected, and without meaning to, Brienna flinched, nearly tearing her small hand away from his large, bony one. Her rejection spurred something in Donnall, who gripped her wrist tightly and held her, his body overwhelming her with its closeness as he towered over her. She arched her neck to look up at him, wearing an expression of chaste bewilderment so that he would think her reaction was due to surprise and nothing more.