The Lady of the Storm - 2 (8 page)

Cecily shivered from that final glare, slowly coaxing the raging water to calm. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm and her legs shook as she stood. But Giles had not moved, and she soon found herself running to reach his side.

“Giles.”

He lay on his back, his eyelids shut, fist still closed about the hilt of his sword. But his chest rose and fell—surely she could see it moving! Black sludge covered him from head to toe, and Cecily called the water again, this time a bit more slowly, easing it over his body in gentle swirls.

“Giles,” she whispered again, crouching over him, her shoes sinking into the mud. With an impatient flick of her fingers she sent the remaining liquid back to the spring, her trembling hands smoothing the blacksmith’s hair away from his face. His skin had been scorched red, the tips of his thick black lashes and the edges of his brows burnt away. The leather of his breeches and coat had been blackened, yet his blade still shone like newly forged metal.

But she had not been mistaken. He breathed, although it had an odd, wheezing sound to it.

Tears burned the back of her lids. Perhaps she should not have interfered in the battle. Perhaps Giles wouldn’t have been harmed if she hadn’t distracted him with her magic.

Cecily let out an impatient grunt. Or perhaps he would have died. She would not regret her actions now.

His skin looked ready to blister. She knew as much as the next village maid did about basic healing, and she’d recognized some herbs near the spring…

She suited thought to action and quickly made a poultice of wet leaves and laid it on Giles’s face and hands. But she did not know what to do if his lungs had been affected by fire and smoke. She needed to get him to a healer, and for that, she needed the horses.

Cecily stared down the rocky valley, squinting her eyes for sign of any movement. She could not wander off and leave Giles but they needed the horses. She had no idea how far the animals had gone, and she didn’t know if they’d kept to the valley or found a route out of it.

She squared her shoulders and began to walk in the direction their mounts had run, every instinct within her screaming against leaving the blacksmith alone and unprotected.

But despite her elven strength, she could not carry him all the way to the nearest village.

She found Apollo just as night fell. The animal had actually been walking toward her, and nickered a greeting when she called his name.

He hung his head when she reached him, pushing his nose against her belly.

Cecily rubbed his neck in relief. “You were returning to your master, weren’t you?”

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 hell 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 shied 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.

“Damn 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 circumstances 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 breasts 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?