The Lady of the Storm - 2 (9 page)

But she could not voice those last two questions.

He turned and looked down at her, his green eyes appearing even more vibrant with the shadow of the leaves behind him. His white-blond hair shimmered in the dappled sunlight, his dark brows a startling contrast. The singed tips had already grown back, along with his thick eyelashes.

“I think,” he said, with that shuttered look on his face again, which Cecily suspected meant he knew more than he told her, “the fire demon was but a stray from Firehame Palace. Mor’ded used to craft them to do his bidding, and no doubt he would not regret it getting loose and causing a bit of mayhem in the countryside. The elven lords are easily bored, Cecily. Don’t ever underestimate that sensibility with them.”

She tilted her head up at him. “You said ‘used’ to craft them. Does he not do so anymore? And why not?”

A half smile curved his sensual lips. Cecily ignored the thought that she now knew they were also firm, warm, and tasted exquisite.

“You are a clever woman,” he said. “I should be reminding myself never to underestimate
you
.” Giles scanned the empty streets as they rode into the town proper. “There should be more foot traffic. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But damn, I’m tired of the stink of burnt leather.”

“It’s a splendid idea,” urged Cecily. “I would give much for a hot meal.”

“And I for a new coat. Let’s go then; the inn is this way, and they serve a hearty stew—”

His scabbard flapped against his hip and suddenly his sword flew into his hand. Giles looked about, urging Apollo backward, pinning Belle against the back wall of a cottage. Cecily caught a flash of blue before Giles’s body and the top of his horse blocked her view.

And then she heard the sound of running feet, the shouts of soldiers, and the oddest keening noise from the blade. Giles and Apollo erupted into a fury of motion, dodging, swinging, and fighting to protect her.

Cecily raised her hands, but the village had only one small well, surely not enough water for her to vanquish the number of soldiers that had appeared from doorways and alleys and roadways. She would have to go deeper again, like she did with the mountain, but the underground stream ran thinly, far underground…

“Do not even think it,” shouted Giles while dropping low in his saddle to swing at another soldier.

Cecily lowered her hands into her lap, clasping them about her reins until the whites of her knuckles showed. She would wait. He could not fight them all, for just as in the village, they numbered in the hundreds.

Giles spared no more attention to her, his sword moving so quickly she saw only flashes of the metal. If she didn’t feel so terrified, she would have admired his deadly skill.

She wondered why none of the soldiers had discharged their weapons, instead of fighting close quarters with such a dangerous opponent. And then she realized that perhaps they wanted her alive.

Would she even recognize her blood father when she saw him again?

And then Giles angled Apollo so Belle had a clear escape route to an open road.

“Go,” he shouted.

Cecily shook her head. She would not leave him.

“I’ll follow,” he insisted, and then slapped Belle on the rump.

Her poor little mare had withstood the sound of battle for long enough. She took off with a leap, nearly unseating Cecily, and galloped down the unfamiliar road with nary a caution for overhanging branches or potholes. Cecily lay over the horse’s neck, praying that the next turn in the road would not take them into another group of soldiers.

She heard another set of hoofbeats behind them. She glanced back and relief replaced her terror. As he promised, Giles did indeed follow. Bloody sword in hand, eyes squinted against the wind of their flight, pale blond hair streaming like a silk banner behind him.

And a smile on his face.

Cecily turned back around, and soon Apollo’s greater stride overtook that of Belle. Her little mare snorted at the big gelding, and when he slowed, she quickly followed suit to an easy gallop.

“Redcoats,” shouted Giles.

Cecily nodded. The uniforms of the Imperial Lord of Firehame.

“They showed up behind the blue,” said Giles, his eyes sparkling with laughter, “and soon Breden of Dewhame’s men turned to face the new threat. It seems Mor’ded of Firehame will not tolerate the presence of another elven lord’s soldiers, no matter the reason.”

“Will we be followed?”

His expression sobered. “It’s possible. But if so, we will lose them in the forest of the Hants.”

Giles glanced at his sword, and Cecily followed his gaze. He had not wiped it clean, and yet now the blade shone clear and bright. She suppressed a shiver. Had it truly absorbed the blood of its victims?

She raised questioning eyes to Giles but he just shrugged, and sheathed the sword.

The blacksmith kept their mounts to a hard gallop, occasionally slowing to let the beasts catch their breath. At noon he allowed them to walk, so Cecily could eat her meal. Close to nightfall they encountered the edge of the forest and finally ended their mad flight.

Giles gave one last look behind them before the woods obscured their view. “I don’t think we were followed.”

Cecily lifted her head. “I smell water.”

“The forest is littered with streams and brooks, despite the fire spells of the elven lord. It’s as much of a normal wood as can be expected in England, so we have little to fear but a few forest deer and the occasional dormouse.” He grinned, that odd euphoria from battle still affecting him. “Now, if we were entering a forest in the sovereignty of Verdanthame, that would be another adventure! The elven lord of the green scepter has twisted and shaped his woods beyond human imagining.”

“Have you been there?”

He shook his head. “Nay. But one day I shall.”

And Cecily saw him clearly for the first time. Giles Beaumont was a wanderer, craving adventure and new experiences. It filled his soul as much as her affinity for the ocean completed hers. She did not understand it. This joy for battle and excitement. But she recognized it. Thomas had the same sort of restlessness about him.

How it must have chafed at Giles to be stuck in their small village. How he must have resented the task of watching over her.

Yet, he had hidden it so well. She would never have suspected his true nature if they hadn’t been forced to make this journey. Indeed, had she ever tried to see beyond his handsome face and perfect body?

His nature contrasted sharply with her desires for a comfortable home, nights by the fireside, pleasant tasks of gardening and sewing.

Cecily’s fingers flew to her lips, the memory of that perfect kiss. They would never suit. Perhaps he had known that all along. Perhaps that’s why he’d regretted kissing her. And she’d been too caught up in her infatuation to see it.

His innate passion would make it difficult for him to travel with a woman, any woman, without responding to her physically. She could not take it personally, or her heart would never survive a second rejection.

But Cecily couldn’t be sure if she had correctly assessed the situation, and fiercely wished she could talk to her mother about it. She missed her dreadfully, and the realization that she would never see Mother again overwhelmed her anew.

“Cecily?”

She glanced up in surprise, hating the way she loved the sound of her name spoken in his deep voice. Then she looked in the direction he pointed, and her sadness faded.

Five

Giles knew how she must have been feeling. Cecily had such a soft heart, a peaceful spirit. The events of the past few days might have been glorious for him, but a trial for her. When he’d stumbled upon this little glade, he had expected to hear her gasp with pleasure.

Instead he found her sight turned inward, a frown on her lovely face, her enormous eyes dark from her thoughts. But when she did glance up, his heart lightened, for her reaction was everything he’d hoped for.

They stood at the edge of a small clearing, a large boulder creating a small pond from the clear stream that ran between the elms. A carpet of emerald grass stretched around the pool of water, dotted with tiny yellow flowers and the occasional red poppy. The sun had fallen but a full moon had risen to replace it, creating a soft glow about the glade.

Off in the distance, a warbler sang a late-night tune.

“Is it safe?”

Giles nodded. “We lost our pursuers. You can swim while I make camp.”

Her eyes closed for a moment as if he’d offered her heaven. But she did not move from her horse.

“Cecily?”

She hung her head. “I do not think I can move.”

“What do you mean?”

“My legs. They don’t appear to want to work.”

Giles suppressed a smile, slipping off Apollo’s back. “My apologies, my lady. Your muscles are not used to riding as hard as we did today.” His words brought forbidden images to his mind. He was a cad. But damn if he couldn’t help his base thoughts around this tantalizing woman. She had bedroom eyes and a body meant for hard riding, but more of the loving kind. He didn’t know how Will had managed to keep her pure. But he knew she was. Giles would have intervened if the lout had pressed for anything more than a kiss.

He strode over to her horse. Enough of these thoughts. He always felt aroused after a good fight, and the battle today had surpassed any previous heightening of his senses. Any woman would have conjured carnal thoughts in him, and Cecily wasn’t just any woman.

He could never bed
her
without serious consequences.

He held up his hand and she clasped his with her much smaller one, a frisson of pleasure at the contact racing through him. He did not know why she affected him like no other woman ever had, but perhaps being forbidden to him fueled his desire.

He was the experienced man, and she an innocent maid. He would have to keep control over their attraction to each other.

Then his gaze flew to her lips and they begged to be kissed again.
Again.
What had he been thinking last night? Giles could not believe he’d blundered so badly. But it had seemed so natural for him to bend down and cover her mouth with his. As if he had done it all of his life. Or as if he’d wanted to.

Damn it, his thoughts had wandered off again.

“Can you unhook your leg from the support?”

She gritted her teeth, and then shook her head. Giles gently took hold of her thigh and calf and lowered it up and over the support of the sidesaddle. Then he quickly put his hands under her arms and she fell from her perch against him.

Her legs wobbled. Giles curved his arms about her back and held her upright. Her hair smelled of lavender and country air, the fine strands of it tickling the underside of his chin. She felt so small that a wave of fierce possessiveness struck him, an urge to protect her, to keep her safe, despite the dangerous power he knew she could wield. Power that made her more than capable of protecting herself.

If he didn’t let her go soon, he might never. “Can you stand now?”

She nodded, her face against the front of his open shirt. Her cheek felt like the softest of rose petals.

Giles abruptly let her go, and she staggered for a moment, but remained upright. He spun and busied himself with removing Apollo’s gear, trying to keep his breathing even. This woman muddled his brain with the feelings she aroused in him.

“You will be able to stretch your muscles with a swim,” he said. “That should make them feel—”

A splash sounded from the pond. She had wasted little time in regaining her element. Smallclothes littered the green of the grass in a line to the water—hints of lace and the other finery that always made women so appealing to him. Her sleek wet head rose from the water and he could just see her smile of pleasure from this distance.

Giles turned back to his chores, her happiness making him feel suddenly lighter. He allowed Apollo and Belle to roam free, grazing on the sweet grass around the pond, occasionally sucking up a drink of water and eyeing the strange sprite who playfully splashed their noses.

He placed his hands on his hips as he tried to survey the trees in the fading light. A small hollow carpeted with moss between the roots of a grandfather oak would make a fine sleeping place. He dug a shallow pit for the fire in front of it. With the flames in front and the tree at his back, they should be well protected from any nocturnal visitors of the scavenging kind.

He shook out their blankets and tossed them in the hollow, dug some dried fish and journey bread from his sack and frowned at the thought of eating it again.

He should have known better.

“Giles,” shouted Cecily. He turned just as she tossed a small trout onto the grassy bank. The swell of her breasts were exposed to his gaze for a moment but then she dove again, surfacing to toss another fish beside the one still flopping about. He watched as she repeated the process several times, chiding himself for hoping for more than a brief flash of her pale skin, but unable to stop gawking.

Finally she had caught enough that she waved at him and dove, and he knew she would stay under for a time, so he killed the fish and gutted them, wrapping them in pliable leaves and burying them in the coals. Giles told himself he didn’t mind cooking while she hunted, but he set some snares deep in the woods, thinking that on the morrow a few fat hares would be a fine change from fish.

Just because he allowed her to contribute did not mean that he could not provide for both of them on this journey. And he would protect her. He would not fail her as he had failed John, nor would he ever exchange harsh words with her, as he had done with his father. When he parted from Cecily, he would do so without any regrets to plague his conscience.

In an odd sort of way, Cecily and Thomas had been his only family for the past nine years.

When Giles returned to the pond, she still had not surfaced. But he knew she could stay submerged for hours and did not worry. Instead he shed his coat and boots and stockings, thinking that he would welcome a bath himself, if only to cool his blood. But would wait until Cecily went to sleep before he attempted it.

He could not trust himself with more than one of them naked at a time.

At first Giles found himself hanging back from the clearing behind a bush. How easily habit took over. He did not need to spy upon her anymore. Indeed, it would be best if he sat in the open, returning to the fire when she emerged.

He settled on the grassy bank, watching the moonlight shimmer on the water’s surface. Even the infamous Sir Robert Walpole, leader of the Rebellion, would have to agree that Giles had earned his place in the ranks as a true spy after this journey. Another man would never have been able to resist the temptation Cecily offered. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to if he had not known her so well. Thomas forbidding him to touch the girl would only fuel a man’s temptation. But Giles knew that Thomas had been right.

If he bedded Cecily, he would have to wed her. And they were not meant for each other. Not just because of their disparate natures, but because she was meant for someone more worthy than he.

Cecily Sutton was England’s best hope for freedom. He understood that better than any man.

And when would the worrisome woman come up for air?

A bubble broke the surface of the water. Giles rose to his feet, the grass a cold prickle between his toes. The small woodland sounds suddenly ceased, even the rustle of the trees seeming to still in the sudden silence.

His sword trembled at his hip. Damn. Giles dove.

He could see nothing but shadows upon shadows. The water buffeted him like a huge fist, batting him away, sending him tumbling head over heels more than once. Cold tendrils slithered against his skin. Jagged scales tore at his clothing. The weight of his breeches and sword dragged him down and he fought to regain the surface, desperate for a breath of air.

The pond could not be this deep.

With one mighty kick he rose, gasping for air, the water roiling around him.

“Cecily!”

The moonlight now seemed bright by comparison to the depths below. A column of swirling water erupted in front of him and Giles drew his sword, which came swiftly to hand, the blade humming as if it longed for magic just as eagerly as for blood.

For the creature that held Cecily in its jaw was surely made of magic.

A fish too large for such a small pond, with jagged teeth and slimy green scales and fins that resembled the blades of a knife. She fought within the confines of its great jaw, forcing water to keep its mouth open while she tried to push her way past the prison of its teeth.

But the monster kept her trapped, and Giles acted before the thing could submerge again, near leaping across the frothing water to plunge his blade into its side. The fish twisted, slamming him with its tail, making bright spots of light dance in his vision.

And then it was gone.

Giles dove blindly, his body sucked down in the wake of the beast’s passage. Again he felt buffeted by some force, and realized it was Cecily’s magic commanding the water to push the monster back up to the surface. But this time he held his naked blade in his hand and it dispelled the force of her magic and he plunged down, down…

His feet hit a solid surface. Not the pebbly bottom of the pond but a rubbery slick surface…

Giles spread his feet and plunged his blade downward.

A shudder. A keen from his sword more felt than heard. And then he rose up again, the pressure bringing him to his knees until the beast broke the surface of the water. He managed to suck in a desperate breath of air before the fish rolled. His devil-sword slid easily out of the monster’s flesh and Giles leaped, landing in a fury of a wave.

A black slick stained the water, slowly growing as the creature thrashed weakly. When the fish finally stilled, it began to sink.

Giles did not have breath to call her name. He swam to the great head, the jaw still closed but lax now. Cecily lay trapped inside, her eyelids closed, her hair wrapped about her like a shroud. He used his sword as a lever, desperate to get her free before the monster sank below the surface. But he could not force the teeth apart until they slid underwater, weightlessness aiding him. A gap opened, just large enough for her slim body to get through and he grasped at her, fingers slipping off the wet surface of her skin.

Her hair wrapped about his fist and he winced, but used that tether to haul her free.

Not enough hands.

Giles sheathed his sword, and with one arm about Cecily’s waist and the other paddling madly, he swam to shore. Collapsed on the grassy surface and just breathed.

The pond gave one last heave and the fins of the beast disappeared beneath the moonlit waves.

“Cecily.” Her skin looked so pale against the dark grass. So delicate and vulnerable. He picked her up, cradling her in his arms, smoothing her wet hair out of her face. “Wake up.”

She did not stir. But she breathed. In that he placed all of his hope.

Giles held her close, kissing her brow, her nose, her mouth.

“You cannot die,” he murmured. “You are England’s best hope. You are
my
best hope.”

She felt so cold.

Giles rose and brought her to the grassy hollow, laid her gently on the blanket and covered her with his cloak. He built up the fire, never taking his gaze off her. Watching for a sigh. The stir of a lash.

Nothing.

Something tightened in his chest and he frowned at the weight of it while he stripped off his breeches, drew his sword, keeping it close to hand while he crawled beneath the cloak to lie beside her.

His chilled skin soon became warm, but not hers. Giles gathered her closer to him, her head beneath his chin, her bottom against his lower belly. He threw a leg over hers, cradled her arms within his own.

“It is my fault,” he whispered. “I did not think Breden of Dewhame would dare trespass this far into Mor’ded’s sovereignty. But that beast had to be his.”

The fire crackled. Far off through the trees, an owl hooted. Giles could not stop rubbing his hands over her skin, kissing the wet cap of her hair.

“You do not know how long I have wanted to hold you in my arms. How tempted I had been to accept the offer you made me so long ago. But I knew I could not trust myself with you. You are too easy to love, Cecily Sutton. And I have my duty.”

She still did not stir. An anger born of desperation made Giles turn her in his arms. “I am your protector, now and always. You cannot leave me.”