Devon, England, 1734
Giles Beaumont heard the sound of battle coming from beyond
the rocks in the direction of the village at the same moment
Cecily emerged from the waves of the English Channel. His
magically cursed sword flew from its scabbard, smacked the
palm of his hand, and it took every ounce of Gilesโs
considerable strength to shove it back into the leather
sheath. As much as his blade longed to be finally used, the
years of training to protect the young woman held firm and
he ran away from the village to the beach.
Heโd removed his stockings and half jackboots after the
first hour of waiting for Cecily, and now his toes dug
through the hot sand while broken seashells stabbed his
heels. But the elven blood that ran through his veins
allowed him to reach the tide line soon enough, his feet now
slapping on wet sand, the spray of the crashing waves
cooling his face, the ocean breeze billowing open his
half-buttoned shirt with even more welcome relief.
He kept his gaze fixed on naught but her.
Cecily Sutton, half-breed daughter of the Imperial Lord
Breden, elven lord of the sovereignty of Dewhame, did not
look like a direct descendant of the elven royal line. At
least, not at the moment. She had one arm wrapped around the
fin of a dolphin, the creature propelling her through the
water at wicked speed. Her black hair gleamed in the
sunlight, her luscious mouth hung wide open with laughter,
and sheโd half-closed her eyes against the spray of flight.
A wild magical woman, indeed. A mysterious creature whom
heโd been assigned to protect since she was nine years
old--and Giles himself only fifteen--in hopes that she would
be of use to the Rebellion some day. But a daughter of those
cold, reserved elven lords? No, she did not fit that mold.
She swam by herself the rest of the way to the shore, with a
wave and a last caress for her dolphin-steed. Her magical
affinity for the water made her look one with it, her
swimming near effortless as she crossed the final distance
to the beach. Giles waited for her, waves lapping about his
ankles, watching as her eyes grew round with surprise when
she recognized him. With her large inhuman eyes, he could
not deny her birthright to the elven lord. They glittered in
the sunshine, twin jewels of blue, with a crystalline depth
that bespoke the enormous power the young woman could summon.
Although sheโd managed to keep that power well hidden
through the years.
"What are you doing here?" she said, her gaze flicking away
from him to stare at her abandoned clothing on the beach.
Cecily kept her body hidden in the water, but the motion of
the waves occasionally revealed the swell of her breasts.
Giles made sure his gaze stayed fixed on her face, but
despite his efforts to appear unaffected by her nudity, the
warmth of a flush crept over his cheeks.
For heโd been ordered to protect her but keep his distance.
Thomas had warned him that the girl was destined to marry a
great lord. And in more subtle terms, that Giles would never
be good enough for her. So by necessity he had spied upon
her from a distance for years. Many times he had damned her
for her magical affinity to water, for scarcely a day went
by without her sneaking off to this private cove where she
stripped and flung herself into the ocean. Perforce heโd
watched her body develop from skinny youth into the full
curvature of womanhood.
Now her curves rivaled those of any woman heโd bedded;
indeed, once sheโd matured, he would often dream of those
perfect features while he made love to one girl after another.
Many times he had fancied himself in love with one of the
village maidens. For a time he would feel relieved that he
had been able to put the forbidden girl from his thoughts.
But thoughts of Cecily would always intrude yet again. He
would find himself comparing those vivid blue eyes, that
heart-shaped brow, the lilt of her laughter, with every girl
he met. And would find himself dreaming of her once again,
chiding himself for a fool.
"Thereโs something wrong in the village," he managed to say.
"I want you to stay hidden in the water until I return."
As usual, she avoided looking into his eyes, her gaze fixed
somewhere around his nose. "How did you know Iโd be here?
How did you manage to climb the rocks? No one knows about my
secret place--" A more urgent question suddenly halted her
flow of indignation. "Has Thomas returned?"
He shook his head. "No, but I fear that your father may have
something to do with it."
"With what? What is happening?"
"Iโm not sure, and I donโt have time for this. Just stay here!"
Giles spun, raced back to his hiding place, struggling damp
skin into woolen hose, sandy cloth into leather boots. He
pulled his sword from the scabbard, the greedy thing ringing
with delight, eager for the taste of the blood Giles had
denied it for so many years.
A thrill went through him from hilt to hand and he fought it
with a clench of his muscles. "You devil," he murmured. "If
I could have gotten rid of you, I would have. Fatherโs gift
or no."
The sword answered him with a tug in the direction of the
village, where the sounds of battle had grown louder. Giles
took one last glance over his shoulderโฆ
The little hoyden had ignored him. Cecily stood next to her
clothing, her net with her dayโs catch abandoned in shallow
water, flopping fish and scuttling crabs quickly making
their way back to ocean. Giles would have cursed if heโd had
the wits to, but the sight of her bending over to pick up
her chemise near knocked the power of speech completely from
his head.
He sprinted back to the water, his sword resisting him all
the way. Giles should have known she wouldnโt listen to him.
She treated him like all the villagers did, as if he had
nothing between his muscled shoulders but his fine elven
features. He had carefully cultivated that impression of
course, assuming the quiet manner of a humble blacksmith, in
spite of how much he despised the role. But Cecilyโs
attitude had surpassed his assumed disguise. After the night
she offered herself to him and he gallantly refused her,
sheโd avoided him with a disdain that bordered on contempt.
By the time he reached her side Cecily had pulled on her
chemise, struggled into her stays. Her fingers fastened up
the front-lacing stays most working women wore, and she
pulled on her jacket and skirt without benefit of her
quilted petticoat.
Giles found it easier to speak once sheโd covered that
glorious body. "I told you to stay in the water."
She did not answer, pulling on stockings and shoes.
Not for the first time, he mentally cursed the task of
having to protect this young woman. "I cannot keep you safe
while fighting."
She straightened, her eyes widening at that. "Why would you
care--what in heavenโs name is wrong with your sword?"
The damned blade kept twisting his arm around, pointing at
the village like a dog scenting a hare. Gilesโs boots began
to slide across the sand, little furrows left in his wake.
"It smells blood--"
She flew past him in a blur of black hair and linsey-woolsey
skirts. Giles blinked then followed. Heโd forgotten she
shared the speed elven blood could provide; indeed, it ran
even stronger through her veins than his. But his eager
sword aided his flight and he managed to catch up with her
at the top of the rise. He threw an arm about her waist,
managed to drag her and his sword behind an outcropping of rock.
Despite years of watching over her, he had never dared touch
her before and the shock of it took him by surprise. A
thrill ran through him and for a moment he could only stare
speechlessly at her.
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