She hesitated to answer.
“I would truly like to know,” he said with a smile, reaching across the table to grab a piece of dried apple.
She stared at him for a moment, and he felt his heart catch; he couldn’t believe that he saw deep sorrow in her eyes. He didn’t believe Carissa would ever feel the slightest sorrow. She had no heart, but Hope did.
He attempted to encourage an answer out of her. “I’m grateful to whoever taught you, for I’ve enjoyed every meal you have cooked.”
Her smile brightened along with her eyes. “Ula taught me.”
“Is Ula your mother?”
“No, my mother died when I was young. Ula was a slave.”
“Was a slave?”
Carissa nodded. “She escaped.”
“How?” he asked, curious, since Mordrac’s stronghold wasn’t a place from which to escape easily.
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Was Ula an old woman?”
“She spoke of her grandchildren to me. She loved them dearly and missed them terribly.”
“It’s amazing that an old woman could do what few if any have done. Escape your father’s stronghold.”
“Your brother did it,” she reminded.
“And I’ve often wondered how.”
“He is a resourceful and determined man.”
“Was Ula the same?” he asked.
She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “I think what made it easy for both Ula and Cavan to escape was love.”
“Love?” he repeated, not certain he heard her right.
“Yes, love,” she confirmed. “Ula’s and Cavan’s love for their families gave them the courage they needed to escape. It was the driving force that encouraged them never to give up.”
And it was what propelled him to find Hope.
“I suppose love is more powerful than most imagine,” he said. “Love endures where nothing else can.”
“My father would have disagreed. He believed hate endured, and love never lasted.”
“Then he never knew love.”
“I often wondered the same myself,” she said. “He hated so much that he never allowed room in his heart for anything else.”
Not even the love of a young daughter.
The thought shocked but also tormented him. How could a bonny lass be raised on hatred rather than love?
She placed the buns in the hearth to bake and turned to Ronan with a smile. “I think I should make us a flavorful stew for supper.”
“I’d like that,” he said, and stood. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it from Bethane.”
“We should ask Bethane to join us,” Carissa suggested. “She has been good to us.”
While Ronan would have preferred to be alone with Carissa, he knew she was right. Bethane had been very good to them. She had given them time together, to discover and learn more than he ever imagined.
“I’ll invite her,” he said.
“Good,” she said with an excited clasp of her hands. “I will bake fresh bread to go with the stew.”
He walked over to her and took her hand. “Tell me what you need.”
She stared at him for a moment, and he could see that she struggled to reply. And he knew that she wasn’t thinking of her need in terms of baking, and neither was he.
The kiss was unexpected though desired by both. This time it lingered, as if sampling and finally realizing the taste was exactly what both favored, they drank deeply.
Their lips were the only part of them that touched as though if they went any further, neither of them could prevent what would happen.
It was a kiss that stirred their souls, and when it ended, their brows rested against each other’s and both took deep breaths, though neither spoke.
When they finally broke apart, Ronan asked, “What do you need?”
Carissa answered before she thought, “You.”
Carissa, her legs unsteady, plopped down on the chair at the table after the door closed behind Ronan. He hadn’t replied to her response. He had simply walked out the door.
Something had changed between them, or had it changed in her? Had the fever robbed Carissa of her last bit of strength or had it helped Hope emerge? She didn’t know, although she knew that she didn’t want to live as Carissa any longer.
It wasn’t who she was, and she didn’t want to pretend anymore. She was so very tired of being who she wasn’t. And with a taste of what she could have, it made her all the more eager to want it.
Fool. It can never be.
Not true, she could hope. Hadn’t he kissed her? And there was no denying that they both enjoyed it. But then they had always enjoyed it, from the very first. Her skin continued to tingle from their recent kiss, just as it always had.