The Touch of Desire
an excerpt

Corren sat at the table he normally occupied with Sorsha, close the back near the fire. His eyes kept watch on the entrance to the tavern and the entryway to the hall. The crowd was just as thick tonight, with maybe a few more added in. It seemed the tavern got more patronage near the end of the week and the weekend, and he wondered how everyone would fit. He didn’t particularly like crowds; it was his one true weakness, being uncomfortable in a crowd. One’s enemy could hide well and could easily kill one by stealth without anyone being the wiser. So, Corren skirted around the edges and only chanced a crowd when there was no other way to avoid it. Such was the case with Sorsha, and Corren was certain she had seen his fear. She had said nothing, for which he was incredibly thankful. But now, he was caught deep in the back of a smaller crowd, on purpose.

Above the din, he heard the door slam shut and his eyes snapped toward it. A moment later, Markas stepped into view, and Corren breathed a sigh of relief. If he had to suffer being in a crowd, even a small one, he was going to do it with someone else. Carfully rising, he called his brother’s name and raised his hand up to wave. Grinning, Markas slowly made his way to the table, politely shouldering past other patrons who did not move fast enough to let him through.

Markas laughed and shook Corren’s hand in greeting. “I think the crowds get heavier each time Rosalee sings,” he said genially as they sat. He noticed two empty chairs and tilted his head at each. “Are we expecting more company?”

Corren nodded. “Aye. Sorsha should be here shortly, and her sister will come later.”

“Who is Sorsha?” Markas asked with a amused glitter in his eyes. Corren gave him a lop-sided smile. He leaned forward, closer to his brother so he wouldn’t be overheard.

“I met Sorsha about three weeks ago, when I came to the city. She worked at the Swan’s Wing Inn.”

Markas smiled. “I know the place! Very pretty, mostly quiet, and usually more decent custom than here.”

“Aye, that’s the place,” Corren confirmed for him.

“I had heard they employed a dancer there about a month ago. Perhaps longer, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Sorsha is the dancer,” Corren replied a bit smugly. “At any rate, when we met, I knew I had found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She feels the same way. But,” he hesitated. “We need to work through a few things. She’s a truthful soul, who dislikes deceit in any form or fashion.”

Markas looked more interested. “You mean you haven’t explained why you’re here?”

“I didn’t want to drag her into my search for revenge. Sorsha is too good for the likes of me, but I love her and can’t imagine life without her. So, once we’re alone, I shall tell her what I can.”

“I would suggest the whole truth, Brother,” Markas advised. “Sorsha is involved just by association with you.”

Corren nodded morosely. “I know that now.” He wiped a hand over his face and sighed. “I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her.”

His brother grinned mischievously, and had opened his mouth to speak, but was caught off-guard by the sudden hush that descended in the room. Corren immediately sat up, as did Markas, and both men riveted their attention to the hallway. From the darkness emerged the violinist and the lyra player, and they took their places in the corner and began to tune their instruments. Moments later, Sorsha flitted out of the hallway and stopped, scanning the room for him. Corren stood, called her name, and waved. She caught sight of him, waved back, and disappeared into the audience, headed in his direction. When she reached the table, she took the seat nearest him and sat down. He took that as a good sign, for she had spent the last two days seated across from him, and then for only a few minutes before she took her leave. He could only hope that she wasn’t angry with him anymore.

Both he and Markas retook their seats, and he watched Sorsha’s eyes widen at her first sight of Markas, who was smiling brightly. Corren hid a smile. “Sorsha, I’d like you to meet Markas. My half-brother.” Startled, she turned her gaze to him.

“I thought you had no siblings,” she said. He didn’t fail to notice the hurt look in her eyes. Corren made to reply, but Markas beat him to it.

“Neither of us knew the other existed until two days ago, milady,” he explained. “I had just exited my home when I spotted Corren on the street, looking at me. I was flabbergasted, to put it plainly, to see someone who appeared an elder version of myself. Though, he more resembles our father than I do.”

Corren waited for Sorsha’s reaction, but aside from looking from his brother to him and back again, she said nothing. In the last few minutes, Sorsha had learned more about him than he had ever mentioned before. He half expected to see an utter look of betrayal on her face before she left them both. But she didn’t do any of it, which heartened him further. He was determined to fill in the details later, and it seemed to him that Sorsha would be doing the same.

Mustering his courage, he reached for her hand and held it. He felt her jump, but at least she didn’t pull away. Her eyes flickered to his and held for a long moment before she looked away, her attention on the hallway. Corren blinked, not sure that he had even noticed the utter silence of the common room. He looked longingly at the back of Sorsha’s head, then glanced at his brother, who was just as riveted on that narrow hallway as every other man in the building. Markas’s heart was already in the hands of young Rosalee; he just wasn’t aware of it yet.