The Lady Of The Storm Part 7

Apollo snorted, a shudder running through his great body.

"Don't be ashamed. I don't blame you for running."

He lifted his head and shook it.

"Well, you will do better next time, that's all."

Cecily picked up the dangling reins and led him over to a rock so she could reach the stirrup, and he stood quite still while she settled herself on his back. Deeper shadows from a full moon danced along the valley floor, the gloom of the evening making the jagged rocks and tors look entirely different... and somehow menacing.

She held the reins loosely. "Find your way back to Giles, Apollo."

He broke into a confident trot, in spite of the uneven ground, and Cecily melted into the saddle with relief. He would find their way back, and she would pray he did not stumble into a hole or over a shadowed rock. For a moment, she allowed herself to tremble with fear and exhaustion. She had expended most of her energy in the use of her magic and she'd never seen such a creature as the fire demon. What other dreadful things existed outside her little village?

She could not wait to find her father and return home... or if not to her old home, they could find a new one. One without monsters and swords and a man who confused her beyond all reason.

Her heart jumped at a sound from behind her, and then settled again when she saw the dark form following them, recognizing the sound of Belle's lighter hoofbeats.

Cecily had walked farther than she'd thought, yet reached the spring sooner than she could have hoped for. She could barely make out the form of the blacksmith as he lay in shadow, but he looked to be on his hands and knees, his head bowed to the ground.

Apollo approached his master, head hanging down again, and stopped when Cecily slid from his back.

"You're awake," she cried, happiness making her voice sing the words.

Giles looked up at her through the fall of his pale hair. "What the h.e.l.l did you do to me?"

She frowned in confusion at his words, but when she reached his side, Cecily understood. His hair had bonded to the mud when she'd dried it and the ends of the strands were still stuck. He'd managed to rip the rest of his body from the mold, but she imagined it would hurt to rip his hair out of it.

"Oh. Just hold still and I'll have you out in a moment." A little water to soak the dirt again, then some more to wash the strands clean when they slipped free, and he sat before her, looking almost as good as new.

"Your skin did not blister."

He frowned. "I imagine it did, and already healed."

"Elven blood."

"Indeed. And where have you been?"

His anger drained the happiness she'd felt on seeing him alive and well. "I went to fetch Apollo, but apparently he'd already decided to return to his master. I didn't have to go far."

Giles nodded and stood, wavering on his feet for a moment. "I have words for both of you, but they shall have to wait until I wet my throat." He slowly made his way back to the spring, gathering dry branches along the way, Cecily collecting her own armful and adding it to the fire that he started.

The horses s.h.i.+ed from the flames, and after a few seconds of her own instinctive fear, Cecily stepped closer, around the fire and back into the hollow of the boulder. The air had grown chill with nightfall.

Giles drank and then washed from the diminished spring by the light of the flickering flames. When he finished, he turned toward the black shapes of Apollo and Belle, removing their bags and saddles. "You should have stayed," he said to the large gelding. Then he turned to Cecily. "You should have run."

She did not answer. It took all of her willpower to still the chattering of her teeth.

Apollo nickered softly in apology and Giles stroked the animal's forelock a moment, transferring his hands to Belle when she sidled up for some of the attention. He left them loose to graze, despite their earlier abandonment, and brought the bags within the small shelter.

"We'll have to sleep here for the night."

Cecily jerked her head in acknowledgement, hugging her arms about her.

"It's not that cold," he added, but wrapped his cloak about her before he settled at her side after laying a blanket on the ground. He rummaged in his sack for a moment and held out a hunk of journey bread. "Eat this. It will help."

She shook her head. She could not control her jaw enough to chew.

"d.a.m.n it," muttered Giles. "Don't you know what you've done? By using your magic, you've alerted Breden of Dewhame's men to our location. The shaking of a mountain isn't something he will ignore. What with everything else that has happened, he will be sure to send soldiers to investigate. Have you so little faith in my abilities that you feel impelled to rush to my rescue?"

The inner strength Cecily had relied upon up to this point dwindled to a tiny core. She was tired unto death and could no longer control her shaking. Nor could she stop the tears that welled up in her eyes when she looked at him. "I th-thought you were going to d-d-die."

His eyes widened, the creases smoothing from his brow, the muscles in his jaw relaxing.

"I c-could hide my magic in the village," she continued, "because nothing ever h-happened there. There were no b-b-battles or m-monsters. No one I c-c-cared for had ever been threatened with more than a s-s-splinter!"

He slid a bit closer, his arm creeping around her, the heat of his body such a welcome relief that she did not pull away.

"Hush," he murmured.

But an anger bordering on despair continued to fuel her words. "And now my magic has been l-l-let loose and it comes to my call with a simple thought and your sword may have survived th-that demon thing but you might not have and you were l-l-lucky to come away with naught but singed brows and blackened breeches."

Cecily took a breath. The heat of his fingers touched her chin and she raised her head. "And then I had t-to leave you to find the horses not knowing if you'd be alive when I returned..."

Somehow his mouth lay mere inches from her own. Firelight flickered off the planes of his cheeks, the sweep of his chin, the straight length of his nose. His eyes looked enormous, the green barely visible in the darkness, two large deep wells she could easily drown in. Her senses heightened; she could smell the burnt leather of his coat, the sharp aroma of the herbs from the poultice she'd made him, the underlying spicy scent of his skin. She felt his arm about her now like a hot band of soft steel, felt his breath across her mouth like a gentle caress, the feel of his fingers beneath her chin like rough leather.

"Hush," he whispered again. "All is well."

And then he set his lips on top of hers, a gently soft touch she felt clear to her toes. How many nights had she dreamed that he'd kiss her? Not for a long while now, but for many years she had yearned to know what his lips felt like. Then she had hated him. And now...

And now he touched her with such reverent tenderness that she wondered what feeling lay behind it.

Cecily could never have imagined the circ.u.mstances that brought this kiss about.

Her mind spun while his mouth moved hesitantly over hers. This felt nothing like Will's kiss. It did not comfort or soothe. Instead, it set a tingle racing through her body, made her heart beat faster and her breath quicken. It made her feel alive and aware of parts of her body she'd never taken much notice to.

His tongue brushed her lips. Cecily's mouth parted on a sigh, her hands reaching for him, encountering the hard slope of his shoulders, the silky texture of his thick hair. Her head tilted backward as he increased the pressure on her mouth as if he couldn't get close enough to her, couldn't taste her fully.

And then his tongue swept against hers, a lovely tangle of smooth heat that made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s throb and peak. Made the place between her legs ache and grow damp.

Merciful heaven. She had not known what a kiss was until this moment.

He groaned. A shudder racked his body and he pulled away from her, panting hard, his face twisted with pain.

"What is it?" asked Cecily. Had his injuries not all healed? "Where does it hurt?"

His mouth quirked at her words. "Not somewhere that my elven blood can heal."

She frowned. "I do not understand."

Giles straightened his spine, turning his face from hers to stare into the fire. "I shouldn't have done that. It seemed but a simple means to silence you. I forgot how you affect me, Cecily. I promise not to let it happen again."

Cecily blinked. A kiss meant so little to him that he used it as a way to silence her? Such a vast gulf of experience yawned between them she feared she might never bridge that gap. Apparently what she'd felt from that kiss was completely one-sided. Her imagination at work again.

She collapsed on the blanket, wiggling to escape a protruding rock, and closed her eyes. She would regard that kiss as casually as he did, and be proud of herself for no longer being childish enough to think it meant a thing.

Perhaps tomorrow she would ask him what he'd meant by saying that he'd forgotten how she affected him, but for the nonce exhaustion overwhelmed her, as if he'd taken what little stamina she'd had left, and she plunged into sleep.

But when she awoke in the morning Giles had already put out the fire and saddled their mounts, and Cecily ate a cold meal while they rode. When she attempted conversation later, the blacksmith shushed her, his gaze warily roaming the gentle hills that had replaced the rocky tors.

Cecily frowned, trying to ignore an itch from her wool coat, and the ache in her bottom from sitting in a saddle so much. It seemed to her that Giles purposely avoided having a conversation with her. He had barely looked at her once this morn, and when he accidentally caught her eye he would flush and look away.

Did he regret that kiss so very much then? Or did he fear that she would misunderstand it, as she had done with his kindness when she was a young girl?

Cecily leaned over and patted Belle's neck. Fiddle, the man probably hadn't given it another thought.

Trees had swallowed the road some time ago, and when it finally cleared a bit, she caught a glimpse of buildings through the branches.

"Stay close," murmured Giles. "This is the town where I'd planned for us to spend the night before we encountered that demon. We'll have to be on the lookout for bluecoats now, but I'm hoping Breden of Dewhame won't risk angering another elven lord by sending his troops into another sovereignty."

Finally, she could speak, and words flowed from her tongue like a dam breaking. "What was that demon-thing? And why are we stopping here now? Do you really think Breden suspects I'm alive? Or does he think someone else made the mountain shake? Surely there are others that can manage that feat?" And why did you kiss me? Did you feel nothing at all?

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 s.h.i.+mmered 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 d.a.m.n, 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. b.l.o.o.d.y 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 s.h.i.+ver. 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.