Free Fire Raven by Patricia McAllister

the top of the hill he did not release her immediately. Instead they stood pressed together, buffeted by the wind from the sea. A few moments later the rain stopped. A mist drifted in and curled about them in the fashion of a cloak. Kate felt its damp kiss upon her face.
    “We need to talk, Faeilean .”
    “There’s nothing more to be said, milord. I’m leaving. ’Tis my final word. Even you cannot force me to stay.”
    “Mayhap I can persuade you instead.”
    Morgan’s words rumbled like gentle thunder across the Welsh hills. Kate felt a tingle of anticipation when he tilted her face up to his.
    “You’re not wearing the wrap about your eyes,” he said. He sounded uneasy. She knew how much Morgan had worried about her eyesight. She felt an unexpected warmth course through her. Despite her anger at being deceived, she found his concern for her touching.
    “Winnie said it might come off today. I insisted upon it.”
    “Can you see anything yet?”
    She shook her head. “Just shadows and vague shapes. Winnie assures me my sight will return, however. Along with my memory, I trust.”
    He was silent a moment. “How long does Mrs. Carey think it will take?”
    “The memory, or my eyesight? Both might be days yet or weeks.” Kate shrugged more bravely than she felt. “Or, mayhap never. There is some chance my vision will not be restored. My eyes were sorely burned, Winnie admitted. There might have been some damage from smoke or flying sparks, and saltwater.”
    Kate heard Morgan swallow. How repulsed he must be by her sightless eyes, blindly staring up at him! She averted her gaze and sought for a safer topic.
    “I hear the sea hissing at us. One might suppose it an angry cat.”
    “Yea, we’re close to the cliff’s edge. You might have had a misstep and met with disaster.” Morgan’s arm tightened about her waist. “I vow you’re a match for the sea, Faeilean . You hiss quite well yourself, when provoked.”
    Kate chuckled. “I do seem to be rather strong-willed, don’t I?”
    “Rather,” he dryly agreed.
    “Did I really look like a drowned seagull washed up with the tide?”
    “Nay. More a wet kitten, ready to sharpen her claws on the first man she saw.”
    “Oh! A helpless kitten, milord?” Kate’s voice held a challenge, and jeweled green eyes swung back to him with unerring accuracy.
    Morgan gazed down into her beautiful eyes with a mixture of trepidation and hope. Was it possible the shadows she saw were enough to expose him? He steeled himself for a scream. Her lips parted in a soft chuckle instead.
    “Cats have a great deal of independence, you know.”
    “As well as nine lives, according to legend. Perhaps I should release you to see if you totter off the cliff, after all.”
    The threat was halfhearted and Kate knew it. She laughed again, more freely this time.
    “I didn’t manage to land on my feet the first time, so you’d best keep a good grip on me now.”
    “You’re not used to it, that’s all. Had you been blind from birth, you should have got along quite well.”
    “I daresay you’re right, milord.”
    “Pray don’t call me ‘milord’ anymore. ’Tis a dry and irksome title used by old men. I have a Christian name, one you used willingly enough before last night.”
    “Morgan.” She repeated his name in a reverent whisper. He felt a corresponding ache in his breast. An ache which was becoming all too familiar.
    “’Tis an unusual name for a man.”
    “It means ‘white sea’ in the old Cymric language. My father wanted me to have a strong name.”
    “I favor it also.” Kate strained in vain for a glimpse of her savior. Despite her lingering hurt and anger, she longed to see Morgan. He had given her back her life, in more ways than one. How desperately she wanted to know him, touch his face again. She had already memorized the contours of his features and knew him to be handsome. Why wasn’t he wed? He was no stripling in short pants.
    She decided to ask him