Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [110]
There had been dancing on the night of the old festival. Most of the young people in Dyflin, Irish or not, had taken part. Osgar was a good dancer himself. He had watched with pleasure as some of the older women danced in a stately manner. But when Caoilinn had got up to join the dance, he had been astonished. He knew she would be lively and graceful; but now he found himself confronted with a new Caoilinn, a vigorous young woman who moved her body this way and that, with a warm and confident allure. Her face was slightly flushed, her eyes gleaming, her mouth open in a laughing smile in which he thought he detected a hint of rich sensuality. She was dancing among the young men. She danced no more than the steps they danced, yet as Osgar watched their faces, it seemed as if she had touched each one of them, giving them a little part of her warmth; and for a while he hung back from the dance, feeling almost shy. Was his cousin behaving in a way that was almost too full-blooded, too earthy for his taste?
But then she had beckoned to him, and he had joined in. And suddenly he was in front of her, aware of the closeness of her body; the warmth and the scent of her flesh were intoxicating. She smiled to see him dance so well. At the end he had bent to kiss her on the cheek, but she, instead, had kissed him chastely but softly on the mouth and, just for a moment, she looked straight into his eyes and he saw the green-eyed Caoilinn he had loved all his life. Then she laughed and turned away.
The next day, he went for a long walk along the seashore, alone.
It was Caoilinn who had brought up the question of their marriage. He had been out walking one spring Sunday with her whole family. They had gone down to Hoggen Green by the old Thingmount, and he and Caoilinn had been standing a little apart when she had turned to him.
“Do you remember how we used to get married down here?”
“I do.”
“Do you still have the ring?” The little antler ring.
“Yes.”
She was silent for a moment.
“It wouldn’t fit on my finger now,” she said with a quiet laugh. “But when I get married—whoever will marry me—I’d like to put it on my little finger.” She smiled up at him. “Will you promise to give it to me for my marriage?”
He gazed at her affectionately. “I promise,” he said.
He had understood. Assertive though she was, she couldn’t go further and keep her dignity. She had dropped the hint. It would be up to him to make the next move after that.
And now here was her father, looking at him expectantly.
“We shall be seeking a husband,” he repeated.
“Ah,” said Osgar. There was a pause.
“I could have found her a husband before,” her father pointed out. “There would be no shortage of offers.” This was undoubtedly true. “But I had an idea,” he pressed on, “that she might be waiting for you.” He stopped and smiled encouragingly at Osgar.
“We have been getting married ever since we were little children,” Osgar said with a smile.
“So you have. Indeed you have,” said her father, and waited for Osgar to continue. But nothing happened. “Young men,” he continued patiently, “often have difficulty when it comes to committing to marriage. They are afraid. It seems like a trap. And this is only natural. But there are compensations. And with Caoilinn …” He trailed off, allowing Osgar to imagine for himself the delights of being married to his daughter.
“Oh, indeed,” said Osgar.
“But if they do not offer when the time is right,” he gave Osgar a warning glance, “they may lose the girl they love to someone else.”
Lose Caoilinn to another? It was a terrible thought.
“I shall come and speak with Caoilinn,” Osgar promised, “very soon.”
Why should he have hesitated, he asked himself when her father had gone? Wasn’t this what he had always wanted? What could be better than living with Caoilinn at the family’s little monastery, enjoying the things of the spirit