The Lady Of The Storm Part 8

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 pa.s.sion 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 a.s.sessed 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 gra.s.s 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 d.a.m.n 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 surpa.s.sed 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.

d.a.m.n 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 s.h.i.+rt. 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 gra.s.s 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 ch.o.r.es, her happiness making him feel suddenly lighter. He allowed Apollo and Belle to roam free, grazing on the sweet gra.s.s 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 gra.s.sy bank. The swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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 gra.s.sy bank, watching the moonlight s.h.i.+mmer 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 gra.s.s a cold p.r.i.c.kle 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. d.a.m.n. 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 pa.s.sage. 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 sh.o.r.e. Collapsed on the gra.s.sy 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 gra.s.s. 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 gra.s.sy 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 trespa.s.s 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."

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 p.r.i.c.kles of his flesh.