The Lady Of The Storm Part 13

Sir Robert harrumphed. "So, Beaumont, I a.s.sume you accept this new mission?"

Giles lowered his head, his gaze still fixed upon Cecily's stubborn face, and softly growled the words, "d.a.m.n right, I accept."

"Well then." Sir Robert clapped his hands together and rose. "I'll ring for the footman to show you to your rooms. I suggest you both get some rest, for we have much to do in preparation for tomorrow."

Giles glanced up, suddenly becoming aware of the rest of the people in the room. Lord Mor'ded watched him with a face that could have been carved from stone, but Sir Robert's cheeks had turned red and Lady Ca.s.sandra looked... amused. Well, he'd surely managed to make a muck of things. "I... I apologize for my behavior. It appears my habit of protecting Lady Cecily has become ingrained in me."

Lady Ca.s.sandra nodded elegantly. "So it seems. Which makes you a perfect candidate for this mission. You will bring her back to us safely, Mister Beaumont, and for that confidence, I thank you."

Giles bowed deeply to her.

"Come, love," continued Lady Ca.s.sandra, rising and settling her skirts about her ankles, "it is time to return to the game."

Mor'ded of Firehame grimaced but rose in one fluid motion. "It was enjoyable to not have to pretend for a while."

"Fie, it makes our stolen moments all the sweeter." And she reached up and kissed his cheek, the elven lord's jet black eyes warming at the gesture.

Giles would never have guessed at such pa.s.sion between the two, had he not been privileged to meet them in such intimate surroundings. He had always thought the Rebellion had fueled their romance, but now he wondered if it hadn't been the other way around.

Lady Ca.s.sandra hugged Cecily again, bidding her to be careful on their journey, and then the lady and her elven lord left the room via the wall near the fireplace. Shortly afterward, a footman appeared at the door in response to Sir Robert's summons.

Cecily nearly fled the room.

She did not speak to him again until they were halfway to Oxford. They were to meet with a professor of archeology in the university city, following Thomas's last known location.

They rode through Buckinghams.h.i.+re, a gentle land of rolling hills and peaceful countryside dotted with occasional flame trees. Giles had chosen a course as parallel to the River Thames as possible, hoping to somehow bolster Cecily's magic before they entered the land of Stonehame. He might have exaggerated slightly, for Stonehame had many more rivers left than Bladehame, but La'laylia's magic had indeed drained the waterways to a shadow of what they had been before.

His heart lifted at the thought of what sights awaited him in Stonehame, while at the same time he struggled with fear for Cecily.

"Why did you do it?" she asked.

Giles glanced beside him, where she rode atop Belle. Sir Robert had wanted to provide her a new mount, but Cecily had insisted on the little mare.

He patted Apollo's neck, understanding Cecily's desire for the loyalty of a beast. "Do what?" he replied.

"Demand that you accompany me."

Giles shrugged, for he barely understood it himself. Oh, granted he'd gotten into the habit of protecting her, but he had to admit that he had not been thinking when he'd insisted upon it. Only reacting to what his gut told him. "I have always wanted a dangerous a.s.signment, after life in that little village. Can you think of any other that Sir Robert could have given me that would offer as much danger and adventure?"

Cecily brushed the loose tendrils of hair off her face. She wore a new dress, one that befit her role as daughter to a prosperous merchant, her former wool riding habit now replaced with a blue silk. To avoid attention she wore a black hooded riding cloak, the hood pulled low over her forehead. A matching blue silk lined the inside of the headpiece, and made her eyes appear an even more extraordinary blue.

The guise that Sir Robert had provided them seemed simple enough: a merchant's daughter traveling to Stonehame to purchase gems for her father's girdle factory, the man sick with the gout and unable to make the journey himself, and said old man lacking a son and forced to rely upon the training of his daughter.

Lady La'laylia of Stonehame encouraged the partic.i.p.ation of women in business and trade, and the disguise further helped explain the amount of notes they carried, which Giles fully expected to use for bribery. Although he had official doc.u.ments of entry stating Cecily's nature and business, Giles knew a thing or two about the border patrols. And about getting the information he'd need to discover Thomas's whereabouts.

Giles had been relegated to the part of Cecily's guide and guard, with clothing consisting of a brown frock coat and buckskin breeches, of a finer cut and quality than his blacksmith's garb. He wore new half jackboots, polished to a fine gloss, and a three-cornered black hat, with a new sword belt for his devil-blade.

He looked half-gentleman, half-servant, possibly a retired soldier. Giles approved of Sir Robert's attempts to keep his enemies guessing.

"Giles?"

He started, realizing he had lost himself again in the blue of Cecily's eyes. An annoying habit, that. "What?"

"I said you did not give Sir Robert the opportunity to offer you another mission."

Giles sighed. Why did she keep pestering him for answers when he barely knew the truth of it himself? "I didn't want another one, Cecily. Remember, Thomas is a friend of mine. He's been my guide and mentor for many years. I want to find out what happened to him just as much as you."

"Perhaps."

But she kept searching his face with those crystal eyes of hers, as if trying to see into his very soul.

"Besides," he muttered, hoping to put an end to this conversation, "you need me."

"Not enough to endure your resentment."

Giles brought Apollo to a halt, the smaller mare stopping right alongside. A wagon loaded with hay rumbled by them, but he'd already discarded it as a possible threat, and ignored the driver. He leaned down until his face lay near inches from her own. "What are you talking about?"

A small flush stole across her cheeks. "You made it very clear in every conceivable way how you felt about watching over me all those years. You couldn't wait to be rid of me. And then"-she snapped her tiny fingers-"just like that, you insist on accompanying me to find my father. And now... now I must bear the thought of you forced into my company again."

The little minx made no sense. He reached out and took her chin in his hand. "But I offered to go."

"And that's what I cannot figure." She frowned, tiny lines etched across her heart-shaped forehead. "You are a wealth of contradictions, Giles Beaumont. You act as if you cannot bear to be near me, and yet you find every excuse to touch me. You say you cannot wait to be rid of me, but there you sit, still watching over me."

Giles dropped his hand. d.a.m.n, and he had thought he'd done such a jolly good job of keeping his distance. Hadn't he lain all night with her, skin-to-skin, and kept her pure? She should give him some credit, at least. "I am not meant for you. Thomas made that very clear. But that doesn't mean I do not want you. There, is that what you wished to hear?"

She gasped. "You want-"

But Giles did not wait for her to finish. He did not appreciate being forced to admit it so baldly. He heeled Apollo and set off down the road, listening to make sure she followed. She had little choice, after all, since she rode atop Belle. As soon as he heard the little mare's hoofbeats close behind, he took a path toward the river, hoping the water would distract Cecily.

Why did she continue to make him acknowledge the fact that he wasn't good enough for her?

They rode for a time in silence, the soft beat of the horse's hooves in the dirt a harmonic accompaniment to the soothing murmur of the water beside them, punctuated only occasionally with the splash of a fish breaking the surface or the trumpeting of a swan.

He stole a glance at her. Cecily wore a soft smile, making her appear even more beautiful than usual. Giles spun back around, swiping the hair off his face.

The only way he could make sure she survived her mission was to accompany her. But d.a.m.n if it didn't threaten to kill him.

They reached Oxford toward evening, riding through narrow, cobbled streets until he found an inn. They walked through the common room, nearly filled to bursting with students, and Giles glared them all down when they dared to cast appreciative looks upon Cecily. His devil-blade hummed and pulsed at his hip.

Aye, it would surely kill him.

He made arrangements with the innkeeper for supper in their rooms, and relaxed only when he had Cecily safely within the confines of her own.

"Giles," she murmured, glancing around the small spa.r.s.e room, "there is but one thing I wish to know, and I promise never to speak of it again."

He tried not to groan, for he'd suspected that their earlier conversation had been on her mind all day. "I'm tired. Can this not wait until the morrow?"

She shook her head, black locks gleaming in the lamplight. "Tomorrow we hunt for Thomas in earnest. And I must have this settled before then."

Giles leaned against the doorpost, crossed his arms, and looked down at her with a sigh. "What?"

She looked into his eyes. Cecily had such a habit of avoiding his gaze most of the time, that a direct look of hers could rattle him. He did not move, but he tensed in his negligent pose.

"All I want to know is"-she took a deep breath-"if Thomas hadn't forbidden you, would you have accepted my offer all those years ago?"

He frowned. "Your offer?"

"Do not pretend you don't know of what I speak."

"Faith, Cecily, you were but an innocent girl. Of course I wouldn't have accepted."

"But now. Now that I am a woman. You said... you said that you wanted me."

She would flay him alive, this one.

"My desire for you would have consequences." He glanced over at the tiny cot, a vision of her bare body tangled in covers coming unbidden to his mind. He pushed away from the doorframe and took a step backward. "There are too many reasons for me, for us... Don't you see that Thomas was right? Now you know who you are-in comparison to who I am."

She actually looked confused for a moment, then she frowned. "I am not England's best hope, or whatever your Rebellion has styled me. I am just Cecily Sutton, a plain country girl who likes to sew and keep house and swim in the ocean."

"You swim because it draws you. Because you have powerful magic to command. And you are Lady Cecily Sutton, an earl's daughter and a peer of the realm. Don't you realize what a tangled web we would create if I allowed myself to give in to temptation? Don't you know how easy it would be for me to do so?"

And because it gave him the flimsy excuse to show her, he stepped forward and took her into his arms. She felt so delicate, and yet within that small frame he could also feel the strength of her magic, the force of her will and personality. Her lips parted, eager and ready, and the devil take him if he hadn't want to do this again-each and every moment-from the first time he'd kissed her.

He covered her mouth and tried to take her very essence into himself. She tasted like fine wine, sweet and burning and heady. He felt her arms snake around his shoulders, her fingers tangle in his hair, his scalp tingling from her soft touch. Giles groaned and gathered her closer, lifting her off her feet, deepening the kiss until their tongues tangled in frenzied pa.s.sion.

He had to remind himself that she didn't know about pa.s.sion. That given her sheltered life, she would be completely ignorant of the act. But his body knew, and it responded with a tightening of his breeches and a s.h.i.+ver of antic.i.p.ation.

Giles crushed her against him, smas.h.i.+ng her skirts and petticoats, his hand roving down her backside, pus.h.i.+ng her body against the part of him that yearned for contact.

Two drunken students chose that moment to stagger up the stairs, their arms around each other, singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of a bawdy tune. Giles released her, his breath labored and his world turned entirely too far upside down for his own comfort.

Cecily stared at him with complete trust in those large gemstone eyes. She stood with arms parted, as if bereft, and he longed to s.n.a.t.c.h her up again.

She still had no idea how close she had just come to having her life entirely ruined.

Giles turned and stepped back out the door, frowning at the two drunkards, his hand to his hilt, and despite their foxed state, they managed to show some sense and quickly stumbled down the shadowed hall.

Giles glanced back into her room. "Keep the door bolted tonight. I will be right next door, and the walls are so thin that I will hear the slightest noise."

She stayed his hand when he would have closed the door, her fingers covering his, that odd current of excitement that her touch always caused in him making him freeze.

"Who are you, Giles Beaumont?"

It took a moment for him to understand the course of her thoughts. He shook his head. "I am no one of such great importance, Cecily. And I'm more than happy with my lot."

"You are wrong." She dropped her hand. "And you have just proven it again. You are my protector, Giles Beaumont. Now, as always. And none of your protests will change that."

She closed the door, none too gently, and Giles stared at the splintered wood mere inches from his nose. d.a.m.n him if the little hoyden didn't have the right of it. But that didn't mean it gave him the right to...

He spun and went to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Did it?

They managed to get to the University of Oxford without referring to the conversation of the night before. For which Giles could only feel incredibly grateful. Cecily had managed to completely confound him, and he now questioned what he had once taken as a surety.

And something had changed between them. A subtle difference in the companions.h.i.+p they'd formed on their previous journey. She radiated some new confidence, and when he grinned at her she returned it easily, her smile bold and promising. Giles sternly refrained from touching her, despite his habit to do so, telling himself that their heightened attraction for one another was entirely his fault.

And then d.a.m.n if Cecily didn't take to touching him at every opportunity. Her hand lingered in his when he helped her mount Belle. Her shoulder brushed his own as they walked across the campus green. She smoothed the hair from his face with fingertips that made his skin burn.

And Giles relished every touch, leaning toward the slightest contact between her skin and his. He could not help it.

She would always be his one and only weakness.

They entered the building and a student directed them to Professor Higley's office. It smelled of dust and mold; the myriad of books lining the walls and floor a perfect background for the tattered old man's bespectacled face. "Yes, yes, what is it?"

Giles escorted Cecily into the room, his hand mere inches from the small of her back. When she abruptly stopped and his fingers met the silky fabric of her coat, he could not pull his hand away from her warmth.

"We have come to see you about my father," she said to the old man. "Lord Thomas Althorp."

"Ah, well," he replied, blinking owlishly, "then you had best shut the door behind you."

Giles complied while Cecily found a chair, removing a stack of books to perch on the edge of it.

Professor Higley set aside his quill and folded his ink-stained hands on top of his desk. "Rebellion business, is it?"

"Yes, and no. You see, Lord Althorp is my father, and he's missing. You are the last man that he spoke to."

"Ah well, I told him the search for the ring would be dangerous." He leaned forward. "We can't even be sure it's a real artifact, but many people think it's real, and that's more dangerous than you can imagine."

Giles had taken up position as her guardian behind her chair, and he could feel the concern the other man's words caused in Cecily. Without thinking, his hand covered her shoulder. "We would like to know what you told Thomas about the ring's supposed location."

The professor's gaze switched to his, quickly traveling down to center on the scabbard lying against Giles's hip. "It's in my report." He licked his lips. "I am a loyal member of the movement and would not s.h.i.+rk from my contributions. I left nothing out of it."

"I'm sure you didn't," a.s.sured Cecily. "But it might be helpful to have you recall that conversation to us directly. Would you be so kind?" Her voice sounded as smooth as water running over stone, the entreaty within it a promise and plea, all at the same time.

The professor seemed to lose himself in her gaze, for which Giles felt complete sympathy. Then the old man blinked a few times and stood, removing a key from his coat pocket and opening a gla.s.s case. He lifted out a yellowed doc.u.ment with gentle hands, placing it on his desk. "Come closer, my dear. This is an old map of England and the landscape has changed, but this is where we are, you see?"

Cecily rose and bent over the desk, Giles following suit. Lines radiated outward from a center point near the old man's finger, separating England into seven sections with the precision of a sliced pie. Each sovereignty held the traces of faded dye: black for Firehame, green for Verdanthame, brown for Terrahame, silver for Bladehame, violet for Stonehame, gold for Dreamhame, and blue for Dewhame.

"Yes," Cecily replied. "But what is that smudge near your finger?"

"Ah, well. That is a place to be avoided at all costs, and not a topic under discussion at the moment." His gnarled finger moved upward into Stonehame, but not as far into the sovereignty as Giles had feared. "This is where you will need to journey."

"Stafford," said Cecily. "What is there?"