The Lady of the Storm - 2 (10 page)

And he cradled her face with one hand and lowered his mouth to hers, seeking to take some of his own life and breathe it into her. He willed her to respond as he pressed his lips gently against hers, sweeping across her mouth again and again.

A tremble ran through her body. Giles’s heart leaped.

“That’s it, dearest. Come back to me.”

He pressed his mouth harder against hers. Felt her sigh and open her lips. He swept his tongue inside, coaxing her own to do battle with his.

For a time, Giles could feel nothing—could think of nothing more than the sweet response of her mouth moving slowly beneath his own.

And then she began to tremble. Hard. Small convulsions wracking her entire body.

Her eyelids flew open. “G-Giles?”

He tucked her head against his neck.

“W-what h-h-happened?”

“Hush. You are safe. Nothing will harm you now.”

Her teeth chattered. He held her closer, but gently, afraid he would crush her in his arms.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “I will watch over you. As always.”

She did not speak nor open her eyes again, but soon her trembling eased and he felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing. A natural sleep this time. She would be all right. With a smile on his face, he allowed his own exhaustion to overtake him.

When he awoke the next morning, Giles felt sure he now qualified for sainthood. His rod throbbed against the back of Cecily’s thighs, so engorged it pained him to move away from her. He gritted his teeth and emerged from beneath his cloak, the morning air chilling his skin and raising prickles of his flesh.

She mumbled in her sleep and rolled over. Giles carefully wrapped the cloak back around her and then took off at a near run, eyeing the still pond for only a moment before diving in.

Egads!

The cold nearly stole his breath but succeeded in cooling his unmanageable rod, so he swam about, looking for any sign of danger. But the monster had disappeared, along with the blood that had tainted the water last night.

Which did not mean that Breden of Dewhame didn’t have other nasty creatures hunting for his half-breed.

He climbed out of the pond, sluiced the water off his skin with his hands, checked his breeches to see if they had dried. Already blackened and now stiff from their dunking, he tossed them away with a grimace, returning to camp and digging out another pair of leathers. His blackened coat would have to do, for he had nothing left but a suit of broadcloth to wear when he reached London.

The back of Giles’s neck tingled, and he turned to find Cecily watching him with those enormous blue eyes of hers.

“You’re awake.” He tried for jolliness, but did not quite succeed. Her gaze traveled from the top of his wet head, lingered on his bare chest, and then hovered somewhere about his knees. He felt as if she’d raked him with live coals.

“You must be hungry.” He dug through the ashes at the edge of the fire and retrieved the fish he’d buried there last night. She quickly sat up, holding the cloak over her chest, the deep glaze in her eyes fading as he handed her the parcel.

“Eat,” he urged, unwrapping his own leaves and pulling out the white meat. It fell off the bones, almost too tender.

She followed his lead, albeit taking smaller bites. He passed her the waterskin, watching her throat move in fascination as she swallowed.

Damn, now he could barely manage to look at her.

She did not eat much. “I don’t feel well.”

“I’m not surprised. You expended a healthy dose of magic last night and I’m thinking you took quite a blow to the head. It took some time for you to come around.”

“I do not… I don’t remember much. Except for the shark…”

“Ah, well, I’m not sure if we could call it that.”

She sighed. “Another monster. Is the world so full of them, then?”

Giles grinned. “I hope so.” But he quickly sobered at the sad expression crossing her face. “Cecily, that was one of your father’s—Breden of Dewhame’s creations. He never would have trespassed so far into another elven lord’s sovereignty unless he felt it worth the risk.”

She shivered, holding the cloak more tightly against her. “You think he’s looking for me?”

“I do. Although I can’t be sure if it’s you specifically, or if he’s heard of your magic and is just blindly seeking the wielder… but we should avoid contact with any body of water until we reach London.”

She nodded, and Giles worried about her listlessness. Perhaps she needed more time to heal. “Does anything hurt? I mean, in particular?”

Cecily shrugged. “I just don’t feel like myself.”

“We can stay here and rest a few days…”

She glanced over at the pond and shuddered. “No. No, let’s move on. If I cannot be in water until we reach London, I would like to get there as quickly as possible.”

Giles nodded. He’d hated to suggest it, for he knew how miserable it would make her to stay out of her element. But he could not risk any more harm to her until he delivered her into the hands of Sir Robert.

He stood to retrieve her clothing, which still lay on the grass near the pond, but her voice stayed him.

“Giles. I seem to recall… you kept me warm. And you said some things…”

He had spoken from his heart in the heat of the moment, and now that his head ruled once more, he felt grateful she had not heard his words.

“I assured you that you were safe with me. That is all.”

“I see. I owe you my thanks. For saving my life—even if you value it only for England’s sake.”

His jaw grew rigid in sudden anger. He could not understand why. “I value you for your own sake, Cecily. And mine. Never doubt it.” And he strode away, picking up his shirt that still lay near the pond, the cloth warmed by the sun and feeling heavenly as he shrugged it on. He fetched her clothing, liking the way the soft cloth felt in his hands, and returned it to her, neither one of them meeting the other’s gaze.

Giles left their campsite to give her privacy, and checked his snares, satisfied to see he’d caught two fat hares. He tied them into a bundle and looked forward to roasting them for dinner.

Apollo came swiftly to his call, Belle right behind, and he had them saddled by the time Cecily finished dressing.

He helped her mount, remembering the silky feel of her skin against his as he lifted her into the saddle. Her face looked pale and she swayed a bit in the seat.

“Perhaps you should ride with me.”

She shook her head, the long black braid she’d woven in her hair swinging across her back. “I’ll manage.”

Giles shrugged and mounted Apollo, setting off through the trees at a slow pace, constantly glancing behind to make sure she remained in her seat. It would have been easier if she’d just agreed to ride with him, although he couldn’t help but admire her fortitude.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead, mostly giant oaks with a few elms sprinkled throughout. A mist wove its way through the thick trunks and gave the forest an ethereal quality that kept Giles quiet, searching for enemies, magical or human. They stumbled upon some brambles around noon and he called a halt.

Cecily slid from her horse more gracefully than she’d managed yesterday, and began to pluck the juicy berries and pop them into her mouth. Giles joined her, and in companionable silence they fought the bees for their feast.

He passed her the waterskin and studied her face. Although she still looked pale, a rosy blush tinted her cheeks and her lips had been dyed a deep red from the berries. He fought the urge to kiss them to see if they tasted of wine. “How are you feeling, my lady?”

“Better.”

“Good. We still have a long ride ahead.”

But despite her words, when they reached the end of the Hants and entered into Surrey he turned in his saddle to find her swaying precariously. He leaped and caught her before she hit the ground, thanking his ancestors for his elven speed.

Giles ignored her protests as he lifted her onto Apollo, loosely wrapping Belle’s reins around the pommel so the mare could follow unhindered. He swung up behind Cecily and settled on his horse’s rump. “I cannot watch you and look for danger at the same time.”

She leaned back against his chest and sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Perhaps I hit my head harder than I thought.”

Giles breathed in the scent of her, wrapping one arm about her waist and holding the reins with the other. She felt soft and warm and he tried not to think about how natural it seemed to hold her in his arms.

“I think it’s more than that,” he said, tapping Apollo’s sides to get the horse moving again.

“Of course,” she grumbled. “You know me better than I know myself.”

Giles frowned. Now why should that annoy the little minx? “I just know your affinity to the water. Perhaps because your magic is so tied to it, your body and mind are, as well. I cannot remember a day when you did not swim in the ocean.”

She stiffened. “Giles.”

“Yes?”

“I cannot hear the waves.”

“Cecily, we have not been near the ocean for days.”

“I know, I know. Yet I have always heard them in my mind. But I cannot any longer.”

A note of panic edged her voice.

Giles searched the countryside for any sign of stream or fountain, for he had only been looking for danger and not comfort. But they rode through the sovereignty of Firehame, and despite the natural greenery of Surrey, the elven lord’s magic dotted the landscape. Pockets of fire sprung amongst meadows carpeted with buttercups, alongside the road, between hill and dale. Flame trees crowded against beech and chestnut, their fiery red leaves flickering in the breeze like the flame of a million candles.

It made him feel hot, dry, and parched. He could only imagine how it affected Cecily, who had thrived in the wet land of Dewhame.

Giles reached for his waterskin, passing it to her. “Drink. Every few minutes I want you to take a sip. We will stop at the next stream and you will swim.”

She turned her head and looked up at him. “But I thought you said—”

“I have changed my mind. We are far beyond the point where Breden of Dewhame will dare invade with his magic.” At least, Giles hoped. But he would rather fight another monster than watch her wither away.

He had avoided farmsteads or villages, often leaving the road to find a path through the woodlands. But they did not stumble upon a body of water large enough for Cecily to bathe in, and toward nightfall he finally woke her.

“Do you smell water?”

She straightened abruptly. “Where are we?”

He smiled. She had dozed against him for most of the day. “Still in Surrey, but close to the Thames, I think. At least, it seems to be wetter and cooler.”

She took in a deep breath. “Yes, I feel it. But too far away.”

“A runoff then?”

One elegant finger pointed to a rise of land within the forest. Giles urged Apollo forward, frowning as the horse labored up the slope. Odd, he would expect a pool at the base of a hill, not the top, for water ran ever downward. Perhaps on the other side…

But when they reached the crest of the rise a small waterfall tinkled merrily over some fallen stones, a crystal pool forming within a ring of standing stones nearly thrice his height. Cecily slid from the saddle and flew across the thatch of thick grass and clover within that protective circle, bending to scoop up the clear water and bury her face in it.

Giles hesitated. He’d heard about the ancient circles of stone that dotted England. Older than the coming of the elven lords, they were rumored to be places of power erected by England’s true ancestors. Some offered protection, while others might open a gateway to… ah, he did not know. But when the elven lords brought magic to England, it changed more than just the landscape.

But Apollo had enough of his dallying and made for the spring, Belle right behind, and Giles placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting for a tremor of anticipation. Despite his blade having an annoying bloody will of its own, it did serve to warn him of any danger.

But it lay quiescent in his scabbard, nary a sound or movement to indicate anticipation of battle, magic or otherwise.

So he dismounted while Apollo slurped rather noisily, washed the dust from his own face, and watched Cecily from the corner of his eyes.

Her hands sifted through the water as if it were gold.

“It’s not large enough for you to swim in,” he said, “but I imagine it will make a creditable bath.”

She turned and smiled, her enormous eyes glowing in the twilight. A funny feeling spread through him at the knowledge that he’d brought that smile to her face.

He swallowed. “I’ll just, um, make camp. See to the horses.”

She nodded and he scooped up Apollo’s reins, making his way back through the circle of stones, the ground beneath him feeling like a spongy cushion. From the vantage of the rise, he would be able to spot anyone or anything creeping up on them. He shrugged off his superstition and decided the place made for a good camp.

He kept his back to Cecily, his imagination filling in the sight of her nude body in the crystal water, the waning moon turning her skin to glowing ivory.