Silver Lady, page 19
Why was he so compelling to watch? It wasn’t just that he was handsome, though he was. Perhaps it was the quiet, controlled power he radiated. Or perhaps it was the way he understood her so well.
Or simplest of all, it might be the way he lit up when he saw her. He was riding Merlin and leading Shadow, who also lit up at the sight of Merryn. When the mare saw her, she yanked her lead from Bran’s hand and whickered a greeting as she trotted up to Merryn.
Merryn stroked Shadow’s sleek, dark neck, cooing, “I’ve not spent enough time with you lately, my darling, but soon this will all be behind us, and we can ride regularly again!”
The mare nudged her affectionately. If Shadow had been a cat, she’d be purring.
Smiling, Bran swung from Merlin and caught Merryn’s hand for a brief, heartfelt squeeze. “I think all four of us, both humans and horses, are looking forward to this day together.”
“I certainly am!”
“Should I go in and say hello to your hostesses?”
She shook her head. “Best not. It’s lesson time and having a guest would be disruptive. Alice and Annie are both very serious about lessons. You can say hello when we return.”
“Besides, you are vibrating with impatience to be off,” he said with a laugh as he linked his hands together to provide a foothold so she could mount.
She settled herself in the sidesaddle, arranging her skirts to fall decorously over her legs. “I’m telling myself and Shadow that we must look very ladylike until we’re outside of town. Then we can have a good gallop.”
“Merlin is anxious for that also.” Bran mounted his horse and they set off. “It will be a slow ride to open country. The streets are full of people who have come to town for the festival. I’m told that all of the inns and guesthouses are full to bursting.”
“And the weather is lovely. A truly glorious spring day.” A thought struck her. “Did you do something to make the weather so perfect for our ride?”
She assumed he’d deny it, but to her surprise, Bran said slowly, “I don’t really know. Perhaps. When an outdoor event is approaching, I’ll imagine the weather as being sunny and pleasant. I don’t know if I have any effect on the skies, but if I imagine good weather regularly, it generally turns out like today.”
“Generally?”
“Well, just about always. But I’m not really sure I’m doing anything,” he said.
“It sounds like you do have a weather gift, which is not at all certain in England!”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I’m just lucky about picking good days to travel.”
She suspected that it was more than just luck. Later today they could have a longer discussion on the nature of gifts; there was so much she didn’t know.
They turned onto the main road that would lead them out of town. As Bran said, it was bustling with people and carts and carriages, with peddlers offering goods and entertainment. They slowed their mounts, wary of children or dogs who might dart under the horses’ hooves.
Merryn had the disturbing sense that she was being observed by someone cold and calculating. She glanced around, unable to see any particular person staring at her, but with so many people around, it was hard to tell. As they moved beyond the crowds, she said under her breath, “I felt as if someone was watching me.”
“Probably people were watching because you’re beautiful. I really like watching you as well,” he said promptly.
“I don’t mind if you look at me,” she said, glancing back again. “But this felt different. Intense and rather . . . unwholesome.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps I’m just nervous because I’ve been hunted in the recent past.”
Bran asked, “Do you think it might have been the Crow or the Starling watching you?”
She hadn’t considered that they might have joined the crowds coming to Plymouth Dock. She shivered at the thought and tried to analyze what she’d felt. “It’s possible, but I just don’t know.”
“When I said that you might be watched because you’re beautiful, that wasn’t just flattery. It’s true,” he said seriously. “It’s an unfortunate fact that young women of exceptional beauty too often become the targets of the cruder sorts of men. Tamsyn often feels that sort of interest and hates it. Are we far enough away from whoever was staring that you can’t sense him anymore?”
She mentally tested what she was feeling. “Yes, I’m beyond that unhealthy interest. But I’m really looking forward to that lovely, private beach!”
“So am I,” he agreed, his gaze skimming around them.
He was always watchful, she realized. Protective and looking out for trouble. She was grateful for that, because she also felt the gathering danger.
But she could put her concern aside for now as they moved into open country. She gave Bran a slanting glance. “Is your full intent to take me to some private place so you can work your wicked wiles on me?”
“No,” he said with a slow, devastating smile. “But if you choose to work your wicked wiles on me, I won’t object!”
With a laugh she urged Shadow to a swifter pace as she put her fears aside. This day was for them.
* * *
The small beach was a lovely arc of white sand, with scattered tufts of tan grass, and mostly surrounded by a low sea cliff. They enjoyed shedding their jackets and boots and walking barefoot along the water’s edge, holding hands and not talking much.
Beginning to feel hungry, Bran retreated to the cliff, where a shallow cave had been scoured by winds and waves. An overhang offered shade and protection from the wind, which made it a good picnic spot. He spread a blanket over the sandy floor, then sat down to explore the canvas bag of food and drink provided by the Tamar House cook.
Merryn was still standing ankle deep in the water, holding her skirts above the small waves, while gazing out to sea, the breeze blowing her loosened blond hair around her shoulders. He loved watching her. If such things as mermaids and sea nymphs existed, Merryn surely had a few in her ancestry.
He thought of the beach where they’d stopped to eat when returning from their first visit to Plymouth Dock. The sight of her stripping off her clothing and diving into the sea was burned into his brain.
Even more vividly he remembered how they’d emerged from the water, then embraced on the shore, naked as Adam and Eve. Mouth to mouth, skin to skin, eager hands and mutual heat . . .
The memory of those moments blazed through him like wildfire. How had he had the willpower to keep from making love to her? He damned well deserved a medal for his heroic restraint on that occasion.
He’d barely managed to walk away from her then, and it would be even more difficult, now that they had become lovers. Luckily, he didn’t think that restraint would be called for today.
With a last look at the sun-touched sea, Merryn turned and walked lightly up the gentle incline, her bare feet leaving footprints in the sand. “Welcome to our private retreat, my lady.”
She plumped down beside him in a flurry of skirts, and he handed her a small towel to brush the sand from her feet. “There’s a beach rather like this on my father’s property, though it’s longer. I walked there almost every day.” She sighed as she cleaned her feet. “I miss my father, but he’s such a dreamy scholar, he’s probably scarcely noticed that I’ve gone.”
“Perhaps, but he’ll certainly be happy to see you again. Remember, I sent him a letter explaining something of the situation and saying you were safe and would be home again soon.”
She caught her breath. “You’ve received a reply?”
“Yes, I just received a letter from him yesterday.” He pulled a folded paper from an inside pocket of the coat he’d taken off. “It’s taken time because I gave him the address of a London postal receiving station I use. My father forwarded the letter back to me here. I didn’t want to leave any visible connection between you and Penhaligon Castle and the Tremaynes.”
She accepted the letter eagerly. “Do you think that was necessary?”
“I thought your uncle Crowley might have an informant in your family home.”
“You’re right, that would be just like him. That’s probably why I felt I shouldn’t write him directly.” She unfolded the letter and held it in the sunlight to read. It was very short, and tears showed in her eyes when she read it: Tell Merryn I love her, and keep her safe. Thomas Penrose.
“He said all that was necessary,” Bran said softly. “You should be able to go home again soon.”
She gazed at the note for long moments before folding it again and handing it back to Bran. “You keep it for now. Men’s clothing has better pockets.”
He lifted his coat and tucked the letter back into an interior pocket. “True in general, but if you hide that in your décolletage, I might be tempted to look for it.”
“Sir, is that a wicked wile?” she asked with mock outrage.
“It could be,” he said earnestly.
Smiling, she shook her head. “We can practice our wiles after we’ve eaten. What do you have there?”
He opened the bag of food. “Apple tarts, cheese, and Cornish pasties, which are permitted even though we’re actually in Devonshire now.” He offered her one. “And ale to wash it down.”
She accepted the pasty, her fingertips brushing his with soft sensuality. Her gaze on his, she bit neatly into it, then licked fragments of crumbly pasty from her lips. As an exercise in provocation, it was very effective.
He poured ale into a mug and sipped from it, then turned the vessel as he handed it over so she would drink where his lips had been. It was a subtle kiss that she rewarded with an enchanting smile. “The wiles are increasing,” she murmured.
She took a swallow of ale to wash down her first bite, then broke off the other end of the pasty and held it to his lips.
He accepted the tidbit with a kiss of her fingertips. “Mmmm, such delicious wiles.”
Their meal continued as a mutual seduction, with lingering touches and teasing words. The rising sensual tension was so powerful that he would have had to drag himself away and dive into the cold sea if he thought she didn’t feel the same way, but she did. It wouldn’t be long until they caught fire together, but he thought it best to allow her to strike the spark.
After they finished the pasties, she emptied the mug of ale and set it aside. “The time has come to release the full measure of our wicked wiles!”
Not waiting for a response, she leaned across the blanket and pounced on him, catching Bran’s shoulders and pushing him flat onto his back. Then she straddled him, her knees bracketing his hips as she bent into a kiss.
“I surrender to your glorious wiles,” he breathed as he opened his mouth to her kiss. Her lips were luscious and her loosened blond hair spilled silkily around his face, scented by sea breezes and lavender.
“I’ve been sleeping with kittens,” she said huskily, “and it was quite nice, but I would have much preferred lying with you.” Her embrace was both sweet and searing as she settled on top of him, rolling her hips to fit the two of them together.
Though they were both fully clothed, the heat and pressure of her supple body was as erotic as when they’d first embraced, skin to skin, on that other beach. Now he knew the enticing reality of what lay beneath the layers of fabric: soft breasts, shapely hips, warm and welcoming thighs.
His hungry hands kneaded down her back and below, until he could catch handfuls of her full skirts. Raising the layers of fabric allowed his seeking hands to caress upward over her silky thighs until his palms cupped her round bottom. He pulled her against him more tightly so that their loins were pressed together, heat to heat, separated only by a few layers of inconvenient fabric.
“Merryn,” he said intensely, “my magical mermaid!”
She pulsed her hips against him provocatively and said in a rough whisper, “My darling Bran, so calm and controlled, except when we make love!”
So true that his calm and control had vanished! Now all that mattered was his need to make love to her, to merge their bodies and spirits. He caught her waist and rolled them so that he was above, capturing her mouth again, while his right hand delved under the full skirts to find her hidden heat and moisture.
When he touched her intimately, she cried out, “Bran!”
After a paralyzed moment she tore at the fall of his breeches, yanking off one of the buttons as she released him into her eager clasp. “We must make up for our lost nights.”
He shuddered, barely able to restrain himself as she guided him into her, joining them in all ways. Dear God, how was it possible to feel such passion and intimacy? His soul yearned as his body burned. They were made to be together, now and always.
Their union was swift and primal. When he was on the verge of culmination, he again stroked her most sensitive place. She cried out and convulsed. He barely managed to withdraw in time before he also fractured into passionate madness.
As they both gasped for breath, her arms encircled his waist, locking them together while she panted. “I look forward to the time when withdrawal isn’t necessary!”
“As do I.” He rolled to his side, holding her against him as her knee slid between his. “But even at my most delirious, I won’t do anything that might hurt you.” He pressed his lips to hers for a tender kiss. When he lifted his head, he whispered, “This is a good argument for marriage, don’t you think?”
She laughed a little. “That’s a discussion for another day. Now I want to learn more about the gifts that sometimes make others despise us.”
“Very well, but in that case we need to sit far enough apart that you’re not within distractingly easy touching distance,” he warned.
“Sadly true,” she said with a sigh as she sat up and moved farther away.
He smiled wryly as he also sat up and leaned back against the cliff wall, stretching his legs out on the blanket. Though she was out of easy touching distance, that didn’t mean he’d stopped wanting to touch her!
Chapter 34
After they restored themselves to rumpled respectability, he dug again into the bag of provisions. He pulled out a pottery jug decorated differently from the one that had held the ale. He uncorked it, then poured the contents into two mugs, not just the single one they’d shared earlier.
He handed one to Merryn. “This is cold tea flavored with lemon and honey. The cook said it’s pleasant and refreshing. Good for a serious discussion.”
Merryn took a wary sip, then drank. “Very nice.”
She leaned back against the cliff wall, stretching her legs out to mirror his position. “You asked about my gift for seeing the future. I’ve been thinking about your questions, and I’ve realized it’s not something I have much control over. Sometimes I see images and they’re often potential disasters, but it’s never clear if they have already happened, certainly will happen, or just might happen. Not terribly useful, except perhaps as a warning.”
“Did you attempt consciously to see what might happen? That could be really useful as we try to figure out the dangers ahead.”
“I tried, but couldn’t make myself see anything when I tried.” She made a face. “I don’t see why my horrid uncle would find my gift useful at all.”
“Perhaps his obsession with you has less to do with your usefulness than with the fact that he resented your father.”
“From the fragments of conversation I remember, he had some definite plans in mind, though I don’t know what they were.” She shrugged. “Since he’s a mystery, let’s talk about gifts in general. How many kinds of gifts are there? When do they first appear? Can a person have more than one? Do gifts ever just vanish?”
“You ask difficult questions,” Bran replied. “It’s hard to generalize. Gifts usually start to appear when a child is very small, though some are so subtle that they are just accepted as part of the child’s nature. They’re most often noticed when the gifts create trouble, as happened to me when I saw Lord Penhaligon rogering a maid in his drawing room, which led to my being disowned and exiled.”
She winced. “How could he do such a thing to a child? I can’t imagine it!”
“That’s because you have a kind and loving heart, unlike Lord Penhaligon,” Bran said dryly. “Fortunately, Cade and I found each other. Together we survived and ended up in a much better place.”
“Was Cade also banished from his home because of his gift?”
“Yes, he saw too much and was despised for it. I think that many of the gifted children Gwyn and Rhys rescued have similar stories.”
“How would you describe your particular gifts?”
He considered. “I have very good intuition about what actions I should take, though I often don’t know why. For example, when Matthew Davey tracked me down in London, I had little interest in discovering whether I was the Penhaligon heir, but I had a powerful feeling that I should come down to Cornwall.” He smiled at Merryn. “I had no idea that I would meet a lost mermaid fleeing through the woods, but my intuition was never more accurate!”
She laughed. “But you have other abilities, don’t you?”
“I’m good at investigating and finding patterns in the information I collect.” He thought more. “I usually have good judgment about people, though all these things might be aspects of my intuition.”
Merryn sipped more tea. “Do people ever have multiple gifts?”
“Sometimes, but it’s more common to have a main gift that shows up in different ways.”
“Do gifts ever disappear?”
“I don’t think so, but sometimes people will suppress a gift if it’s too troublesome to use,” he said slowly. “I think our abilities are an inherent part of who we are and it’s difficult to repress them.”
“From what you’re saying,” she said, “gifts are not as clear as a talent for music or for drawing. Is that the case?”
“Exactly. I’ve thought about this question often and haven’t come up with any clear answers or rules.”
Merryn drew up her knees and linked her arms around them. “Is it possible people aren’t born with specific gifts, but rather a certain amount of potential? Then specific gifts appear as needed when a situation is of critical importance.”
