The Lady Of The Storm Part 16

It came in the form of a murky sort of grayness.

At the same time, she felt her stomach fly up into her throat as the upward motion suddenly ceased and she dropped down again, and then spun in a circle. Cecily swam upward, dropping her s.h.i.+eld as she broke the surface of the water with a gasp of relief. She swam out of the small whirlpool and wrapped her arms about a jutting rock, looking up at the crystal spires of a large cavern.

She closed her eyelids to steady her vision for a moment, for she felt as if she still spun in circles. Then opened them again.

To her right lay the floor of the cavern, more spires creating a sort of maze across the surface, in places meeting the spires that grew downward from the ceiling above.

The cavern glowed with an eerie sort of light, and when she hauled herself out of the water and rested a moment against one of those crystal pillars, she felt the vibrations of the stone mountain.

Cecily sighed with relief. That wild journey could have brought her anywhere, into some subterranean depth of tunnels and caverns, instead of her hoped-for destination. Or she could have bypa.s.sed the interior of the mountain completely, appearing on the other side.

Her gaze went to the pool in the floor, to the whirlwind of water that gushed a fountain in the middle of it. She'd been spat out like a cork from a champagne bottle.

The outer edges of the whirlpool broke away, flowing to the other side of the cavern before disappearing beneath a rocky outcropping, presumably continuing on to form the river on the other side of the mountain. She hoped the journey would not be as difficult going out as it had been coming in.

But enough. Cecily ran her hands down her clothing and hair, shedding the water. She must hurry, or no telling what Giles would do. He might attempt to follow her, and he would never survive that journey. She would trust his good sense only so far, especially when it came to protecting her.

Her lips curved upward as she wove a way through the crystal spires.

To her surprise she quickly came to an opening, and when she ducked through it, a flat expanse of crystal spread out before her, open to the sky above.

Cecily would give much to see this place in the sunlight. Even with the gray skies the floor glowed like some ethereal hall of a mythical G.o.d, catching what meager light it could and tossing it from one crystal surface to another, lighting the soaring columns that surrounded the open s.p.a.ce.

Cecily squinted. Something stood in the middle of this great expanse. A small building, like a garden pavilion, but made of the same stone as the mountain. And beneath it a square shape...

She stepped out onto that smooth surface and soon became drenched yet again, but this time from the rain. It fell in sheets, obscuring her vision, so she could not quite make out what lay beneath that pavilion until she reached it.

A box of stone. No, a coffin.

Cecily dried herself yet again, staring in wonder about the pavilion, which was decidedly larger than it had looked at a distance. Statues had been carved to form the pillars that supported the roof. A gryphon with beak opened in a scream of rage stood next to a hydra with multiple heads that sported needle-sharp teeth. An ogre with eyes of amethyst stood sentinel on the other side. A demon crouched, a centaur reared, a h.e.l.lhound snarled... all of them in protective stances as guardians of the coffin.

And they had failed.

Cecily stepped closer to the coffin, watching her footing, for shards of crystal lay scattered about. Several cracks marked the top of the coffin's surface, and on the other side it had been shattered asunder, revealing a skeleton draped in cloth of gold.

The carvings of the guardians sported cracks as well, and the entire back side of them had been shattered as thoroughly as the coffin. Oddly enough, the inside of those pillars held a hollow shape of the creature that had been carved on the outside of it.

Someone had found Sebastian's coffin... or someone's coffin, since the appearance of the corpse certainly did not look youthful, as the professor had described. But perhaps Sebastian had aged to normal when his ring had been removed?

With a shudder that carried to the soles of her feet, she searched within the cloth of gold, which crumbled at her touch, and around the skeleton, which she feared would sit up at any moment and strangle her.

But she could not find a ring. And her certainty that it had been her father who had found this grave, and had somehow managed to shatter the crystal that Giles's sword could not, steadily grew within her.

"Father," she finally said, "you took it, didn't you?"

As if in reply, the rain abruptly ceased.

Cecily could not stop trembling. She must get away from this place. The ogre kept staring at her with accusing eyes, and the hydra looked as if it would slither forward and rip her apart with those sharp teeth. She turned and hurried back across the crystal hall toward the entrance to the cavern, heedless to use her magic to clear a path, her feet splas.h.i.+ng through the puddles, her steps purposeful to avoid slipping on the wet surface.

The rain had stopped but the wind had not, for it took the song of the mountain and amplified it, until it almost sounded like words now accompanied the tune.

"Cecily."

She came to an abrupt stop, her feet slipping out from under her, and went sliding across the smooth crystal, b.u.mping up against one of those soaring columns. She sat up slowly, her backside aching, and used the column for support to rise.

That voice. It had sung her name. And it had sounded like- "Cecily."

She felt the song, too, this time, within the vibrations of the stone beneath her palm. "Father?"

"Yes."

Could he be using the crystal as a voice? Didn't one of the traders tell her it was a natural conductor of sound and vibration?

"Where are you?" she cried.

Cecily felt the answer vibrate against her hand, but could not make out the words. She set her ear against the column.

"You were with me. Why did you not stay?"

"When? Where? What do you mean?"

"...not long."

She slapped the stone in frustration. "I cannot hear you."

"...weak."

"Just tell me how to find you!"

"...h.e.l.l."

No. She could not have heard right. Her father wasn't dead; she knew it in her heart. And he certainly would not be in h.e.l.l. He was the bravest, kindest, most heroic man she would ever have the privilege to know.

Cecily closed her eyes, but still the tears leaked from beneath her lids. "Father," she moaned.

And then faintly. So faintly that at first she couldn't be sure that she'd made out the words of the tune.

"Seven Corners."

Cecily angrily dashed the tears from her face. h.e.l.l. And seven corners. The last place Thomas's vision had appeared to her had been in that forest of wild magic. Could he have actually been within that chaotic place?

Merciful heaven.

"Father, do you mean the Seven Corners of h.e.l.l? Is that where you've been imprisoned all this time?"

"Yesss."

"How is that possible?"

She waited with bated breath, her ear smashed as hard against the stone as she could manage. But she heard no more words within the mountain's song, just the rhythmic tune of the gentle breeze that now swirled about her.

Cecily tarried as long as she could, hoping he would speak to her again. But she could not forget Giles. If she took too long, he would come after her, even if it meant he would drown.

The thought of his lifeless body spurred her to action, and she retraced her path through the cavern, getting lost only once, with the sound of the water leading her back to the whirlpool. She dove beneath the overhang, letting the current carry her on a wild journey yet again. She hoped Giles had thought to wait for her on the other side of the mountain, where the water emerged. For if not, she would have to trudge around the crystal, and exhaustion overwhelmed her by the time she reached the gently flowing river.

She should not have doubted him.

Cecily's head broke the surface of the water; she blinked, and saw him standing on the riverbank beneath the gray skies, the rain having let up. She had never been so glad to see him, despite the anger that tightened his mouth. But when she trudged through the shallows, weariness d.o.g.g.i.ng her steps, his expression changed.

She stumbled over a loose stone and he leaped across the distance separating them, catching her in his arms. Giles dragged her up his body and stared into her eyes. "Don't you ever leave me like that again."

And then his warm mouth met hers, and she threw her arms about him and returned his kiss with all the newfound confidence she possessed. He kissed her with a desire that warmed her blood, his lips so smooth and firm, his arms like a gentle band of steel about her. He smelled of rain and damp wool, tasted like water fresh from a spring.

He set her down reluctantly, staring again into her eyes. Cecily saw something within those depths. Something different that reached out to her very soul and made whatever barriers standing between them seem trifling.

"Come," he said, swooping her up in his arms and carrying her back to land.

He had found a tree to shelter the horses, far off to her left, but had apparently sought no such covering for himself. She saw the muddy path he had worn along the edge of the river from his pacing.

Cecily touched his sodden hair. Had he stood in the rain the entire time while he waited for her? "But don't you want to know what happened?"

"No. Not now."

He helped her into her clothing and Cecily accepted his a.s.sistance, used her magic to dry the material, doing the same for him with a sweep of her hand. Giles crooked a brow at her, his look telling her he realized she did not need to fondle his clothing to dry it, but when he would have smiled at the innocent look she gave him in return, he did not. The intensity of the emotion that had taken hold of him would not allow it.

His strength had always impressed her, but never more so than at this moment, when he leaped into Apollo's saddle, still holding her in his arms. He ignored her protests that she felt perfectly capable of riding her own horse.

They rode silently back to town, Giles cradling her against him. After all the distances they had traveled, the short trip back to the inn felt the longest of them all. For his determination lay in his eyes, in his gentle but firm arms, in the stubborn set of his jaw.

Cecily s.h.i.+vered, but not with the cold. Antic.i.p.ation thrummed through her veins, banis.h.i.+ng any lingering tiredness and making her acutely aware of his every move.

Giles had come to a decision.

When they reached the inn, he slid from their mount and set her on her feet, his warm hand firmly grasping hers. He bowed. "My lady, may I escort you inside?"

An undercurrent of meaning lay in his words. Cecily nodded, as a lady would to her servant, and Giles's mouth quirked, but the expression in his eyes did not change. He led her through the rather empty common room, up the stairs to her very door, and turned the handle.

For a moment, Cecily's feet stayed rooted to the floor. Her guise as a prosperous merchant had provided her with lodgings vastly superior than any she had stayed in before. A large bed with feather-stuffed mattress sat in the corner of the room near an ornate gem-studded fireplace. Colorful rugs softened the hardwood floors, chintz drapery flowed across every window, and fresh flowers brightened the carved quartz tables scattered throughout the room.

She stepped inside and turned, unable to meet his gaze. For days now, she had sent him invitations with a glance, the touch of her hand. The last time he'd come to her room, Giles had kissed her and walked away.

This time he would not.

She had wanted him for years and now that the moment was upon her, a small kernel of fear raced through her, a thousand questions plaguing her mind. What if she disappointed him? What if he disappointed her? And what would the future hold for her once she gave her body to him? Their dreams and goals were so very different...

"Cecily."

She looked up at him. The storm had abated but the clouds still hung over the sun, darkening her room with a dreamy sort of light, casting his cheekbones with soft shadows, turning his green eyes to that velvety dusky shade.

His intent had not changed. He had made his decision. But she would have the final say.

Cecily knew the importance of this moment even more so than Giles realized. She feared they would not survive the journey into that place of wild magic. This might be the last opportunity for them to be together. She held out her hand in invitation. In one graceful movement, he closed and bolted the door behind him and gathered her in his arms.

She sighed into his mouth as his lips covered hers. Oh, she could get used to kissing him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, his coat warmed by his body heat, exploring the breadth of his shoulders. How many times had she wished to touch him without reservation? To feel herself in his arms?

His palm went to her cheek and he gently guided her head to match his own movements, sweeping his lips across hers several times before pressing a bit harder, parting her lips beneath his guidance. His tongue swept into her mouth for but a moment, but a promise. And then she felt her cloak fall from her shoulders, felt his fingers briefly at her b.u.t.tons before her coat parted and met the same fate.

He did not fumble at the ties of her skirt or petticoat or the laces of her stays. She slipped off her shoes when he picked her up and carried her to the bed, and he sat her down on the edge of it in nothing but her chemise and stockings. She looked up at him as he backed up and shed his own coat, but he stepped forward and kissed her again as if he could not resist the offering of her parted mouth.

When he broke away she s.h.i.+vered and he frowned. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head.

He went on one knee before her and slowly lifted the hem of her chemise, untying the garter around her right stocking before gently rolling it down her leg. He took twice as long at the task than when he'd dressed her by the river, his open palms sweeping across her skin with a brand of heat.

Cecily laid a shaking hand upon his bent head. She had forgotten to dry his hair. The dampness quickly fled beneath her touch, allowing her to stroke her fingers through the thick, fine strands. Although it lacked the silver sparkles that lit an elven lord's hair, it had a sheen all of its very own, a vibrancy that made it gleam even in the dim room.

Her stocking fell to the floor with a whisper and Giles started rolling the fabric off her other leg. He lowered his head and Cecily gazed in stunned surprise as his mouth followed the movement of his hands, leaving a trail of kisses atop her thigh. His lips felt soft, his breath so warm, a hint of moisture following every touch. She had not even imagined his mouth across other parts of her body, and it lay so close to...

A flush of wetness between her thighs made her squirm.

Giles looked up at her, his eyes gla.s.sy with desire, his face taut and soft all at the same time. "You are not afraid."

All thought had fled, and she could not remember the questions that had unsettled her but a moment ago. Indeed, all of her attention had centered upon his touch. "No."

He grasped her beneath the knees and pulled her toward him, her chemise lifting up over her thighs and hips, exposing the dark mound of hair between her legs. She glanced down and flushed, but his gaze stayed firmly fixed upon hers.

"You are still not afraid?"

Fie, she had trusted him with her life more than once. She surely trusted him in this.

He nodded. "Lie back."

Cecily relaxed on the coverlet, her gazed fixed upon the ceiling, wondering why he thought she needed to rest. But he continued to remove her remaining stocking, continued to cover her skin with kisses, and she closed her eyes as she focused on nothing but his touch.

He kept kissing her even after he'd removed her stocking, trailing a fiery path up her calf to her thigh with the heat of his lips. She remembered what she'd witnessed on the beach all those years ago and a.s.sumed that would be all there was to it. She had obviously missed the kissing part.

She felt his hands clasp her knees and gently but firmly push them apart, and she did not resist, for which he rewarded her by kissing her inner thighs.

Fiddle, she had apparently missed the best part.

And then she felt the wet heat of his tongue, and an urge to buck, which she firmly resisted, considering it a very unladylike impulse. But Giles knew her body better than she, for his hands quickly slid up to her hips, caressing her for a moment before he spread his hands across the length of her, his fingers meeting just over the curl of hair between her legs.

He ran his fingers through it the same way that she'd run her own through the hair atop his head.

After her first start of surprise, she realized it felt delicious, and allowed him to pet her to his heart's content. His touch slowly dropped even lower, until he stroked the part of her that had become sensitive enough for her to become aware of it. A part of her body that throbbed with a sudden life of its own.

"Ah," she sighed, and it seemed to be all the invitation Giles needed. His hands spread her thighs even wider, his warm strong grip holding her open, and she flushed at the thought of the view he had of her. But only for a moment, for she felt a wet warmth on that nugget of flesh that had suddenly demanded all of her attention, and a pressure that nearly elevated her off the bed.