often trying to draw her into their indecipherable conversations on topics that sounded like the spiritual beliefs among her people, but just different enough that she spent more time smiling and nodding than understanding.
They never grew impatient with her though, nor did any of the others mock her ignorance. Well, not since Wirp made another one of his zealously disapproving lectures at Barr in regard to sharing his bedchamber with her.
Barr had banned Wirp from the keep during mealtimes, until such time he felt he could keep a civil tongue in his head. She had the feeling the old man had avoided a challenge only because of his age. And perhaps Barr truly was not as war hungry as the Faol of old and hoped to live by example.
Sabrine was happy to note that far from a stormy coupling, Verica’s clear delight in her mating did not diminish as the days wore on. In fact, her contentment grew deeper each day, striking a poignant chord in Sabrine’s heart even as she rejoiced for her new friend.
Perhaps the other woman’s dual Chrechte nature made it possible for her to mate with a Faol and find joy that might last a lifetime.
Not that Barr accepted their mating could not last. On the contrary, the stubborn man made her affirm she was his each and every time they coupled. He plied her body with more pleasure than she would ever know again while insisting she recognize their mating at the most basic level.
Even had she wanted to resist, she had no choice but to comply. Their ability to mindspeak had only grown so that even when she was in the forest training the women and he was back at the keep training the men, she could hear him quite clearly in her head.
He delighted in teasing her with sexy whispers of what he planned for them when she returned from training the women. Or he would ask where she was when she was busy searching for the sacred stone. His tone always implied he knew she was up to something, but he was so obviously not worried. His naïve trust scared her.
She would not hurt him, or the clan that had come to mean so much to her, but others were not so safe. He seemed aware of that fact, but persisted in believing the best of her, when in fact, he should be more suspicious.
She’d grown more and more accustomed to the wolf growl in his voice and felt less revulsion when she thought of his Chrechte animal nature with each passing day. But she still could not stomach the thought of him shifting in front of her.
And he knew it.
She knew that her continued revulsion bothered him, but he never said anything more than to randomly remind her that his wolf was part of him, part of the man she was true mate to. She never denied it and he did not push for more. For her part, she was content never to discuss the matter in depth. She had no desire to spoil even a moment of the time they had left together.
She had to find the Clach Gealach Gra soon, and when she did, she’d have to go. Even if her wing was not healed.
The longer she stayed with the Donegal clan, the harder it was going to be to leave. And she would not risk not returning in time for her brother’s ceremony.
Nevertheless, she felt almost equally compelled to train the Donegal women in the ways of fighting. They had been working on turning a curtsy into a move that hiked up the long skirts of a female plaid and made it possible for a woman to run faster, or kick an opponent with enough power to have effect.
She stepped back after adjusting a woman’s stance for better leverage to flip her opponent. Before she could test the woman’s new stance, a hand came around her waist from behind.
Though she knew the feel of that arm, Sabrine did not think about it, she simply reacted, sliding through the hold to roll on the ground. She came up with a kick intended to do damage in a man’s most vulnerable parts.
Barr leapt back with not an inch to spare as her foot brushed the front of his plaid. “Well done,” he said out loud. Careful, My One, you will do damage to a part of my body yours enjoys very much, he teased inside her head.
His complacent amusement sparked