Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] (53 page)

"Let me go!" She spoke in Gaelic, but he understood, retaining the language from his childhood.

"Quiet," he hissed in English. "Be still."

"Sassenach!" she spat out. He tightened his hand over her mouth. His arm banded her, encountering soft breasts.

"Let go!" she snapped in English, and kicked his shin. Struggling, she sank, and he tugged her up. She rose sputtering.

"I only want to help you," he muttered.

"Then do not drown me!" she gasped. When she drew breath to scream, he clapped a hand over her mouth again.

"Sweet saints, hush—be mute, like a swan."

"Not all swans are mute," she mumbled behind his hand, and squirmed like a hooked fish.

"So I see, Swan Maiden," he grunted, wrapping a leg around her thighs, tucking her against him like a lover, though passion was the last thing on his mind. "Quiet, if you value your life, or they will catch you. Hush, now."

She stilled then, and slipped her arms around his neck. Her face was silky and wet against his bearded cheek. He felt a fine trembling all along the length of her.

The commander and a few knights walked along the shore and pointed toward the swans, and then at the window from which the girl had escaped. A few swans flapped their wings and hissed loudly. The men backed away.

One bird, huge and gorgeous in the fierce light of the fire, rose from the water and took to the wing, flying so low overhead that Gawain felt the breeze and ducked as it passed.

The girl laughed. "He will not hurt us."

"Hush," Gawain said between his teeth, embarrassed that he had thought otherwise. "You talk too much."

Two knights waded into the reed bed and backed away as the swan circled over their heads, fast and low. Gawain watched, astonished. The bird's protective action could not be deliberate, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

The girl looked up, her hair streaming around her face. Her eyes were large and dark, her head and shoulders delicately shaped. Her body was lithe and lean in his arms, her breasts lush against his chest. He held her, breathing in tandem, water lapping around their necks.

"They are gone," she whispered after a moment. Her mouth was close to his. Feeling a strong, misplaced urge to kiss her, he pulled away slightly.

"The knights are there, just over the hill," he murmured.

"The swans are gone, too, farther down the loch. Look."

He turned and saw that most of the swans had disappeared. The remaining few glided elegantly over the water. The shore was empty, though shouts continued on the other side of the castle.

Gawain stood cautiously, holding the girl in his arms. The soft floor sucked at his feet as he waded to shore. Water sluiced from them as if they were kelpies rising from the depths. Slung in his arms, sopping wet, she was yet a light burden.

Glancing uneasily toward the castle, he ran along the bank away from the burning tower toward the forest. People waited there in the shadows. A woman stepped between the trees.

"Mother!" the girl said. "Set me down." He did, sweeping his arm around her to hurry her toward the trees.

The shadowed figures came closer, reaching out. A woman pulled the girl into her embrace and swathed her in a thick plaid. Someone offered a blanket to Gawain. He refused it.

The girl turned to look up at him. Her eyes were luminous; in shadows and moonlight, he could not tell their color.

"I am Juliana Lindsay," she said. "Tell me your name, so that I can ask the angels to watch over you."

He frowned. If he told her the name given him at birth—Gabhan MacDuff—she might know him for a local Highlander, and despise him for being with the English. If he told her his English name, Gawain Avenel, she would loathe him for that.

She shivered, waiting, her cheeks pale, hair like strands of honey. He touched her chin with a fingertip.

"Swan Maiden," he murmured. "Call me your Swan Knight in your prayers, and the angels will find me."

She nodded, watching him. Her mother drew her back.

"They are coming this way, knight," the mother said.

"I will lead them away from here. Go! All of you—go!" He waved them back into the forest and turned to run toward the castle, where the inferno still raged, bright and ferocious. As he went, he felt keenly as if the girl and the others watched him from the cover of the trees.

For a moment, he felt as if he left heaven behind him and ran toward hell.

The Swan Maiden

The Celtic Nights Series

Book Two

by

Susan King

~

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The Swan Maiden

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with an excerpt from

THE SWORD MAIDEN

The Celtic Nights Series

Book Three

Excerpt from

The Sword Maiden

The Celtic Nights Series

Book Three

by

Susan King

National Bestselling Author

THE SWORD MAIDEN

Reviews & Accolades

"Against the backdrop of the Hundred Years' War, King deftly spins a mystical Highland romance."

~Publishers Weekly

"Magic, myth and history blend to perfection..."

~Romantic Times Book Club

(Top Pick, K.I.S.S. Award)

"Bewitching... entrancing. Highly recommended!"

~The Romance Readers Connection

Scotland, 1431

Lachlann walked the garron pony over the meadow to the stable, while Eva strolled beside him. She glanced up at him, so tall and strong in the moonlight, his dented armor a dull gleam, his black hair sweeping back. He looked—so familiar, and yet so changed. And she had never thought to see him again.