The Lady Of The Storm Part 4

Perhaps another would not have noticed. But he'd studied her interactions with others often enough to see past the s.h.i.+eld of her public face.

"You did what you had to," he said, closing the distance between them. She smelled like lavender and deep ocean. A heady scent no other woman could ever match. "Just as I did what I needed to do."

"I do not like killing."

"Nor do I."

She waved her fingers again. "I do not like you."

Giles laughed. "Do not think you frighten me, little girl. You shan't be rid of me so easily."

Her mouth dropped open, and he fought the urge to kiss her. Heaven help him on their journey to Firehame. His only defense against her appeal had been distance, and he would not be able to keep it. And now that she knew the truth about him, it seemed it had broken some sort of barrier between them, for they spoke to each other now more than they had in the past nine years. Which meant he would have to be even more vigilant against his affection for her.

At the thought, he raised his hand and touched her cheek, that thrill of antic.i.p.ation running through him again. Indeed, he did have an affection for her. How astonis.h.i.+ng.

She stepped away from his touch. "Do not think to use your wiles upon me. I am no longer a child. And do not think I am going with you to become some p.a.w.n for your Rebellion. I will not be used-by you or anyone else. I am going to see this Sir Robert of yours only to find my father. He will know of Thomas's last mission... unless... did Father tell you?"

Giles shook his head. Even if he did know, he wouldn't likely tell her, nor did he think Sir Robert would, either. But if he wished the young woman off his hands and the end of this task so he could be given another, he wouldn't admit this. "No. And please refrain from bandying the man's name about. I confessed it to you only in the dire need of your circ.u.mstances."

"I'm surprised you were given his name."

"The Rebellion will risk much to protect you."

She grimaced. He could not help but grin at such a look.

"Come," he said, bending down to pull on his boots. "We should leave at once." A bit of sand had stuck to his stockings and p.r.i.c.kled his feet as he walked up the rise. He did not wait for her, knowing she would follow. For he'd heard about the men leaving, had known that Will would go with them.

The village held nothing for her now.

Indeed, as they made their way to his smithy it felt as though they walked through an empty village. The young men must have already left, and perhaps many of their families as well. It would be foolish to stay and wait for the soldiers to come.

Cecily tried to walk away, and he stayed her with a raised hand. "It's best if we do not part."

She gave him an indignant look. "I need to pack some items for the journey. I will meet you back here in a few hours."

Giles entered the stable next to the smithy, his mind already racing with plans for the journey. It would take at least six days to reach London, perhaps more since they needed to travel in secret. He had but one horse, Apollo, a brute big enough to bear his weight, but Thomas kept extra mounts stabled, and he thought the small brown mare would suit Cecily. "I think it's better if you stay with me. I have already packed the supplies and need only to prepare the horses. Does this little mare meet with your approval?"

Giles turned around and realized he spoke to air.

He frowned and patted the mare's neck. "Ah, Belle. It would seem that this is going to be a most difficult journey, eh? With that young lady hating me-and me wanting her-all at the same time." The horse nickered, nosing into his pockets in hopes of a treat. Giles fetched out a bit of wilted carrot and saddled her while she crunched. "The hatred doesn't worry me. It's the wanting that could get me into trouble."

When he'd finished with the mare he saddled up Apollo, who stamped his feet until he'd been given a carrot as well.

It took Giles only a few moments to arrange the bags on the mounts. When he'd awoken this morning, he had decided to take Cecily to Firehame whether the woman would come willingly or no, so he'd packed the bags and dressed in his buckskins. He supposed he should be grateful she had changed her mind. He'd never had to force a woman to do anything.

"Although," he muttered as he led the horses from the stables, "Cecily is not a woman who can be forced to do anything. And that, my beasties, will have her and I knocking our heads together before we travel far."

Belle nickered and Apollo snorted. Fie, how he loved the beasts. They listened to everything he said and never talked back.

Giles didn't spare a glance for the smithy he left behind. He had always known that it had been but a temporary arrangement for him, despite having lived here for years. And although it had become his home, and he'd made a few friends in the village, his heart felt light as he left it behind for good. He did not lock the doors, and welcome to any man who wished to take up where he'd left off. He didn't suppose it would be any time soon, but after a while the village would become populated again.

The fis.h.i.+ng hereabouts made for a comfortable livelihood.

As if on cue, Old Man Hugh popped his head out the door of his cottage as Giles pa.s.sed.

"Ye be taking her away then?"

Giles nodded.

The old man spat. "Can't say as I'm sad to see her go. Nor ye, for that matter."

Giles turned to him in surprise. One of the men he'd thought he had made friends with was Hugh.

"Ach, now, don't be looking that aways. It's not that I don't like either of ye. It's just... ye two are not for the likes of our little village. Ye belong in the world that made ye." He stepped out of the doorway of his cottage, holding out a hand k.n.o.bby with age and hard work. "I'll miss ye, though, Mister Giles Beaumont."

Giles shook the dry hand.

Hugh let out a cackle. "Lud, don't ye think I know that blade of yers is destined to protect more than this humble village?"

The devil-sword s.h.i.+vered in its scabbard, as if it knew it was the object of discussion.

"You see more than most, Old Man. More than I had thought."

"That I do." Hugh stepped closer and lowered his gravelly voice. "I'm naught but a worn-out fisherman, son, but sometimes I see things-there's a bit of elven blood in me own line. So heed the advice of this old man, for I'm given it to ye in good faith. Ye may not get what ye want, but it will be more'n ye ever thought to have. So be patient. With yer ambition, and the girl."

One of the injured cried out from within the dark recesses of the cottage and Hugh turned to answer.

"Wait," said Giles, his fear for the old man overriding his confusion about the advice he'd been given. "Come with us. When the soldiers return, they may not feel like talking. It's dangerous to stay."

"And who will take care of the injured?" asked Hugh. "Besides, I no more belong in yer world than ye do in mine. Naw, get on with ye, boy. And use the elven blood in yer veins to help the human part of ye. For freedom is worth any cost." He scrambled back into his cottage, throwing his parting words over one strong, bony shoulder. "Good luck to ye, Beaumont, and may the Good Lord bless ye."

With that parting benediction, Giles left the village for the last time, following the small pathway that led to Thomas's cottage. The honeysuckle that usually surrounded the front of the little house had been torn away, straggles of blossoms releasing a strong aroma as he tread upon them to knock at the door.

She answered it within a heartbeat, her gaze quickly skimming past him to the waiting horses. "I'm more at home in the water than on the back of a beast."

"I know. But Belle is a docile mount."

"It's the sidesaddle," she continued, stepping back from the doorway and allowing him in.

"I know," he said again.

She huffed. "I suppose you know a great many things about me, after spying on me all these years. And I suppose I will have to become adjusted to who you really are... and not who I thought you were."

Giles shrugged, surveying the homey cottage. "I'm the same person and so are you. Only our circ.u.mstances have changed."

"Perhaps." She hefted a rather large valise.

He shook his head. "We travel light."

She sighed but didn't argue, setting the bag on the bedstead and sorting through it. "I shall have only one change of clothes, and no hoops. The prime minister will think I'm a country b.u.mpkin... ah, faith, that's what I am. I just hope he takes me seriously."

Giles purposely looked away from her smallclothes and examined a shelf laden with an a.s.sortment of seash.e.l.ls, coral, and some items he could not identify. Cecily's ocean finds often traded for large sums, and more than once, had fed the village through a lean winter. They should have been grateful for her contributions, but instead it had served only to set her even further apart from them.

Indeed, in the same way his gift with steel had made the young men only more distant from him.

"You've only to twiddle your fingers at water," he finally replied, "and I'm sure Sir Robert will take you seriously."

"And I will nick my finger, and your sword's hunger for blood will make him take you seriously when he realizes the power of the magic it holds."

He turned with a smile. "Well met. It seems we are a pair of magical aberrations, does it not?"

"I was perfectly ordinary until yesterday."

"You, my dear lady, were never ordinary."

She gave him an odd look, but didn't reply, only handed him a much-smaller bundle of tightly rolled clothing. He accepted it this time, striding out to her horse and stuffing it into the empty bag he'd left for her things. He checked the horses' shoes again, the straps of the saddles, and when she didn't appear he went back into the cottage.

She stood in the middle of the room, her magnificent eyes bright with tears. "I will just fetch Father and return. I will sit at this loom again, and spin my cloth. I will swim in my ocean with my friends. I will cook at that fire and embroider Father's s.h.i.+rts. I will not so easily give up this life I've worked so hard for."

Giles had a feeling she would never return to this little cottage but he said nothing. If it comforted her to believe she would one day return, he wouldn't take that from her.

Such an odd young woman. He constantly sought change, yearned for excitement. If it hadn't been for the distraction spying on Cecily had provided, he might have gone mad with boredom these past nine years.

It was time to start a new life. His heart jumped at the thought, and he could not keep the eagerness from his voice. "Come. It's dangerous to tarry."

She followed him out this time, turned and closed the door firmly behind her, latching it with a murmur of a promise. Belle nickered and Cecily smiled at the small mare, pulling an apple from within the folds of her skirts.

Giles studied her beneath lowered lids. Cecily wore a riding habit, the coat similar to his own, but with pearl b.u.t.tons instead of his dull bra.s.s. Her skirts lacked a hoop, which made mounting and riding easier, and the wool cloth would be st.u.r.dy enough for their journey. She'd placed a straw hat over her mobcap and wore her hair in a single plait down her back.

An odd mixture of dress that spoke of a working-cla.s.s woman with the elegance of a lady. But he knew she'd acquired the pearls using her magical abilities and not through trade, and that the fine weave of the cloth came from her own efforts.

A remarkable young woman. But not for the likes of him.

She scrambled into the saddle without his a.s.sistance, scowling as she wrapped her leg about the saddle's support, but too much of a lady to suggest she ride astride. She smoothed down her skirts and patted Belle's neck.

"Clever of you," said Giles as he mounted his gelding.

"What do you mean?"

"The apple."

She shrugged. "Father taught me about bribery."

And apparently that should have explained everything, for she said no more, just watched him with an expectant look on her lovely face.

Giles nodded and tapped Apollo with his heels, the beast starting out at a brisk pace. Despite his success with the village girls, Cecily often made him feel like an untried youth, clumsy and fl.u.s.tered in her presence. Fortunately his natural elven grace hid most of his human failings, so he didn't think he betrayed his uneasiness around her.

To make it all worse, he began to suspect that he might have been wrong about Cecily's feelings for him. She used her disdain for him like a s.h.i.+eld, as if she sought to hide her true sensibilities.

And he had never quite managed to erase the vision of her in his bed.

Fie! Perhaps it was only wishful thinking. He could not have the one woman he truly wanted. Whether she knew it or not, they came from entirely different social cla.s.ses, and as soon as they reached Firehame this would become very clear to her.

He would rather not face the humiliation of her rejection once she realized her true status, so he would just have to ignore this attraction... and never allow her to guess he felt it.

Giles started to get warm and stripped off his jacket then his neck cloth and finally opened the topmost b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt. Then realized his discomfort came not from the sun overhead, but from the feel of her gaze upon his back. He slowed Apollo so that he rode by her side, which kept her scrutiny firmly directed away from him.

His body ceased to burn.

Giles stayed on a path that paralleled the channel, knowing Cecily would feel more comfortable if they kept close to the ocean, but eventually they would have to head inland...

"How many days will it take to reach London?"

It seemed her thoughts ran similarly to his own. "Five or six days, depending."

"On what?"

Giles glanced over and down at her on the smaller horse. "You weren't born in the village. Do you have no memory of how you came there?"

She smoothed the hair away from her face, the ocean breeze having loosened black tendrils from the plaiting. "I have worked very hard to forget everything that happened before Thomas rescued me and my mother."

"I see." Giles knew that when Thomas had rescued her from the Imperial Lord of Firehame, Cecily had called down a storm that had destroyed their pursuers. And that she could not forgive herself for killing so many. Yet it seemed a simple matter to Giles. They would have brought her back to Firehame to die a horrible death, so why should she feel remorse that she had stopped them?

"Tell me what our journey will be like," she asked. "For I would feel better knowing what to expect."

"I'm not sure if we shall reach Dorset today, but when we do, we will have to head inland. It will dry out as we leave Dewhame and enter the sovereignty of Firehame, but until then we avoid the lowlands, for Breden of Dewhame's water magic has turned them into marshes. Most of Dewhame is littered with streams and fountains similar to the land about our village. It is said the land was quite different before the arrival of the elven lords, but that their magic has changed it... surely you know of the seven sovereignties and the elven lords who rule each of them?"

She glanced at him with a look of annoyance. "Firehame in south central England ruled by the black scepter of Mor'ded. Verdanthame to the east ruled by the green scepter of Mi'cal. Terrahame to the northeast with the brown of Annanor; Bladehame next to that, then Stonehame, Dreamhame... yes, Giles, I know my geography and the powers that have shaped each land. I am not ignorant of the outside world. My question referred to the actual court of Firehame. Thomas had hinted of changes there."

And if Thomas hadn't seen fit to reveal all of the Rebellion's secrets to his daughter, Giles most a.s.suredly would not. "You needn't worry about it. We shan't be going to the palace, but to Sir Robert's townhouse, and I haven't been past the front entry, so I couldn't tell you what to expect. It's a grand home though, almost as large as our village."

She raised a brow at that, but he ignored it. She would soon see for herself. "Perhaps if you allow yourself to remember, the memories of your earlier life will return."

Her head shook emphatically. "I was imprisoned in a rickety old tower the entire time I was in Firehame, and before that..." Cecily frowned, watching the gulls and cormorants gliding above the ocean waves. "I recall only running and hiding, dark places and whispered conversations."

The path they rode upon curved away from the ocean again, but they had been steadily climbing and so this time the poplar trees did not block their view, and they had a fine prospect of the land of Dewhame.

A wild moor spread out below them, heather blooming in a lavender blanket that rippled in the breeze and made a sort of shus.h.i.+ng sound. A river sparkled on the far horizon, small streams flowing from it to weave through the heather like some giant spider web. Fountains of water erupted from several of the streams, glittering in the suns.h.i.+ne and overlaying the land with a sheen of mist. Giles resisted the urge to spread out his arms as the open land filled him with a feeling of freedom.

But Cecily showed no such restraint. "How glorious," she murmured, opening her arms wide. The water responded to her call, forming s.h.i.+mmering columns in the air and snaking their way toward her. Apollo came to an abrupt halt and snorted as the beams of water curled around them to reach Cecily. Giles felt the cool glide of a tendril caress his face, curve about his neck, leaving behind a soothing dampness.

For a moment, Cecily sat surrounded by s.h.i.+mmering columns, her eyes closed and a rapturous smile on her lovely mouth. She looked ethereal and beautiful and entirely dangerous.

"You make the water look almost alive," said Giles.

She turned and looked at him, light gleaming from within the facets of her eyes. "It is. Can't you feel it?"

"I come from Bladehame, lady. The elven blood that runs through my veins is attuned to dry metal."