Free The Lady of the Storm - 2 by Kathryne Kennedy Page B

hadn’t he dreamed of the sight of her body every night? Hadn’t he been disappointed by one lover after another, when they lacked the long length of Cecily’s legs, or the dark pink of her nipples, or the small beauty mark on her left hip?
    Perhaps the sight of her nude body had bothered him more than he allowed himself to admit.
    When he glanced up again, she’d braided her hair and covered those ears. He couldn’t decide if he felt relieved or annoyed.
    “Are you well?” she asked.
    “Why?”
    “You made an odd sort of noise.”
    “Did I?”
    “Mmm.”
    They sat companionably for a time, with the distant sound of the surf and the snuffling of the horses to dispel the quiet. Despite the summer evening, a chill emanated from the walls of the cave and Giles unrolled his cloak.
    “Did you bring a wrap, Cecily?”
    “No. You told me to pack lightly, and I needed my petticoats.”
    “Yes, of course. Here.” Giles stood and walked around the fire, feeling as if he breached some intimate barrier. He took a breath and ignored the feeling, crouching and laying his cloak lightly about Cecily’s slight body. He allowed his hands to rest on her small shoulders for a moment, relishing the contact, breathing in the scent of her hair. Lavender. Soft and sweet.
    “Thank you,” she said a bit stiffly, and he noticed how she’d stilled, like a doe in sight of an arrow.
    He flinched away from her. Just because she’d offered herself to him all those years ago did not mean she desired him now. Indeed, with all the upheaval in her life, and his sense that she blamed him for most of it, the young woman had every right to regret being forced upon this journey with him.
    As he settled himself back on his blanket, he told himself it was probably for the best. If he couldn’t manage to control himself around her, at least she did not suffer from the same weakness.
    Giles removed his sword belt, but left it near to hand. He felt safe enough within the cavern not to stand watch, but that would probably not be true for the rest of their journey, so he’d best get some sleep while he could. Besides, his devil-blade always alerted him to danger.
    In anticipation of a fight, no doubt.
    His shoulder still ached a bit from his wound, and he groaned and shifted as he lay down. His eyes tried to make out the dragons above, but the smoke from their fire obscured the mosaic. After a time he heard Cecily lie down as well, but he refused to look at her again.
    Apollo snorted and the wind moaned. Except for their small ring of light, the black of night surrounded them like a shroud.
    “I cannot sleep.”
    Cecily’s words drifted over the banked flames. He’d never noticed how smooth her voice sounded, like water flowing over stone.
    “Tell me about your sword.”
    Giles glanced at his devilish blade. It lay quietly within his scabbard, looking for all the world like any other ordinary weapon. Perhaps an even less-than-ordinary blade, unless someone looked closely. The stone that had once been imbedded in the pommel had long ago fallen out, leaving behind a small depression. The leather on the hilt had been worn down to shiny smoothness, only the wire encasing it allowing a firm grip. The quillon was nothing more than two plain crosspieces of metal, lacking any sort of engraving or design.
    But the blade itself looked newly forged, without dent or scratch, and never needed sharpening. “My sword?”
    “Up until yesterday, I thought it but an ordinary weapon.”
    “Up until yesterday, we had no battles within the village.”
    She shifted, and he caught the gleam of a soft cheek, the sheen of midnight hair. “I vow, Giles, it pulled you into battle. How did you come by it?”
    He threw an arm over his eyes. “’Twas my father’s blade, and the making of it, my younger brother, John’s. From somewhere far down our family line came a strong influx of elven blood, and although I inherited the looks and grace, John inherited the magic of