il she also remembered that he had been required to sing it； however appropriate it might also be to her circumstances。 And Lars Dahl had not had the grace to look abashed。
Why should he？ The performer in her argued with her sense of personal outrage。 The music was beautiful； and so obviously a favorite of the islanders that the last chorus trailed off into reverent silence。
Then the baritone held out his hand； into which was placed a twelve stringed instrument that he presented to Lars Dahl。
〃The Music Masters may not have approved your position for the Summer Festival； Lars； but may we at least hear it？〃
Plainly the request distressed Lars Dahl； for his mouth twitched and he had ducked his head against the pelling level gaze。 Nevertheless； he took a deep breath； reluctantly accepting the instrument。 His lips were pressed into a thin line as he strummed a chord to test the strings。 Lars did not look at Olav； though he could not refuse the older man' s request； nor did he look out at the audience。 His expression was bleak as he inhaled deeply； concentrating onward to the performance。 The rankling disappointment； the pain of that rejection； and the sense of failure which Lars had experienced were as clear to Killashandra as if broadcast。 Her cynical evaluation of him altered radically。 She was possibly the only one in the entire assembly who could empathize； could understand and appreciate the deep and intense conflict he had to overe at that moment。 She also could approve heartily of the professionalism in him that unprotestingly accepted the challenge of an excruciating demand。 Lars Dahl possessed a potentially Stellar temperament。
Despite her proximity to him； she almost missed the first whispering chords which his strong fingers stroked from the strings。 A haunting chord； expanded and then altered into a dominant； just like the dawn breeze through the old polly tree on her island of exile。 Soft gray and pink as the sky lightened； and then the sun would warm the night…closed blossoms； their fragrance drifting to beguile senses： and the rising lilts of bird； the gentle susurrus of waves on the shore； and the lift in the spirit for the pleasure of a new day； for the duties of the day： climbing the polly for the ripe fruit； fishing off the end of a headland； the bright sun on the water； the rising breeze； the colors of day； the aroma of frying fish； the somnolence of midday when the sun's heat sent people to hammock or mat。。。 an entire day in the life of an islander was in his music； colored and scented； and how he managed that feat of musical conjuring on a limited instrument like a twelve…string； Killashandra did not know。 How that music would sound on the Optherian organ was something she would give her next cutting of black crystal to hear！
And the Music Masters had rejected his position？ She was beginning to understand why he might wish to assassinate her； and why he had kidnapped her： to prevent the repair of the great organ and； perhaps other less worthy positions； from being played by anyone。 And yet there was nothing in her brief association with Lars Dahl； in this evening's showmanship； even in his reluctant acquiescence to the demands of his island； to suggest such a dark vengeful streak in the man。
When the last chord； heralding moon…set； had faded into silence； Lars Dahl set the instrument down carefully and； turning on his heel； stalked away。 There were murmurs of approval and regret； even anger in some faces； a more plimentary reaction to the beauty of what they had been privileged to hear than any wild applause。 Then； people began to talk quietly in little groups； and one of the guitars tried to repeat one of the deceptively simple threnodies of Lars's position。
With a glance to be sure no one was observing her； Killashandra rose to her feet and slipped out of the flickering torch light。 Adjusting her eyes to the night； she saw movement off to the right and moved toward it； almost turning her ankle in one of the footprints that Lars's angry passage had gouged in the soft sand。
She saw his figure outlined against the sky； a dark tense shadow。
〃Lars 。 。〃 She wasn't sure what she could say to ease his distress but he shouldn't be alone； he shouldn't feel his music had not been appreciated； that the totality of the picture that he had so richly portrayed had not e across to his listeners。
〃Leave me … 〃 his bitter voice began； and then his arm snaked out； and catching her outstretched hand； pulled her roughly to him。 〃I need a woman。〃
〃I'm here。〃
Holding tight to her hand； he pulled her into a lope。 Then； pushing at her shoulder with his； he guided her at right angles to the beach； up toward the thick shadow of the polly grove on the headland； near where she had beached that morning。 When she tried to slow his headlong pace； his hand shifted to her elbow。 His grip was electric； his fingers seemed to transfer that urgency to her and anticipation began to course through her breast and belly。 How they avoided running into a polly tree trunk； or stumbling over the thick gnarled roots； she never knew。 Then suddenly he slowed； murmured a warning to be careful。 She could see him lift his arms to push through stiff underbrush。 She heard the ripple of a stream； smelt the moisture in the air； and the almost overpowering perfume emanating from the creamy blossoms before she followed him； pushing through the bushes。 Then her feet were on the coarse velvet of some kind of moss； carpeting the banks of the stream。
His hands were urgent on her and the initial physical attraction she had felt for him was suddenly a mutual sensation。 He put her at arm's length； staring down at her； seeing her not as a vessel from which he expected the physical relief； but as a woman whose femininity had aroused an instinctive and overpowering response。
〃Who are you； Carrigana？〃 His eyes were wide with his amazement。 〃What have you done to me？〃
〃I've done nothing yet；〃 she replied with a ripple of delighted laughter。 No one else had awakened such a response in her； not even Lanzecki。 And if Lars had somehow sensed the crystal shock in her； so much the better： it would enhance their union。 She had been celibate far too long and he was partly to blame： the consequences were for both to enjoy。 〃Whatever are you waiting for； Lars？〃
Chapter 11
A light； almost tender； finger touch on her shoulder； just where the star…knife had sliced her flesh； roused Killashandra from the velvet darkness of the deepest sleep she had ever enjoyed。 She felt weightless； relaxed。 Despite her having led an uninhibited private life； Killashandra was inexplicably possessed by shyness； a curious reluctance to face Lars。 She didn't want to face him； or the world； quite yet。
Then she heard the barest ripple of laughter in the tenor voice of her lover。
〃I didn't want to wake up either； Carrigana。。。〃
Loath to perpetuate any lies between them； she almost corrected the misnomer but she found it too difficult to overe the physical languor that gripped her body。 And an explanation of her name would lead to so many more； any of which might fracture the stunning memory of the previous night。
〃I've。。。 never。。。〃 He broke off； his finger tracing other scar lines on her forearms … crystal scar （and how could she explain those at this point in a magical interlude） … down to her hands where his strong tapered fingers fit in between hers。 〃I don't know what you did to me； Carrigana。 I've。。。 never。。。 had a love experience like that before。〃 A rueful laugh that cracked because he couldn't keep it soft enough to match his whisper。 〃I know that when a man's been troubled； a normal reaction is to seek sexual relief from a woman … any woman。 But you weren't just 'any woman' last night； Carrigana。 You were。。。 incredible。 Please open your eyes so that I can see you believe what I'm saying … because it is true！〃
Killashandra could not have ignored the plea； the sincerity； the soul sound in his voice。 She opened her eyes。 His were inches away and she was gripped by an overpowering surge of love； affection； sensuality； empathy； and passion for this incredib1e and talented young man。 Relief was mirrored in the very clear blue of his eyes： a morning…l