He grumbled as he squeezed through the gap, then stood beside her. "A cave." He did not sound impressed.
Rhona laughed. "Rum Isle is full of caves, some on the land, and some on the cliffs, and some you can only reach at high or low tide, for the ocean hides a veritable army of rocks to keep Rum Isle safe. The ancient peoples of the isles found this one, and improved upon it." She led him deeper into the shadows to the steps. Twisted and winding, worn by the tread of generations of boots, the steps led up into the tower, or at least that's what they called the top of the crag. The roof of the top cavern had caved in, leaving it open to the elements, but with a clear view all the way to Alba on a clear day. Today, like most days, it was hidden in mist, but she could still see for miles. As could tonight's watchman.
"Good evening, Lady Rhona," he said.
"Good evening indeed, Ximeno," she said. "This is Grieve Lewisson, my father's new squire from Myroy Isle. My father wants him to see all our defences. Where is Nuno?"
"He said he would go get our dinner from Mother. Did you not see him?" When Rhona shook her head, Ximeno continued, "Then he must have met a pretty girl, who distracted him."
Grieve burst out laughing, then stopped when he realised he was the only one.
"What's funny?" Rhona asked coolly.
Grieve was still grinning. "Why, doesn't he mean you? But we saw no one on the way here…"
"Nuno is sweet on Ciara, though I am not sure if she is as sweet on him. He makes frequent visits to his mother, though, hoping to see her, so Belen encourages him, even if Ciara gives him no hope." Rhona sniffed. If she wanted a man, she would not toy with his affections like Ciara. Though it seemed to drive Nuno wild, so perhaps she knew her man better than Rhona thought. Still… "Ximeno, can you tell him how we run things here? I'll unsaddle the horses for the night."
Without another word, she hurried down the steps and away from the only man on Rum Isle who thought she was worth looking at.
Twenty-Two
Grieve watched her go, too bewildered to ask why. Ximeno just shrugged, then began to point out the features of their clifftop eyrie, including what Grieve had taken for an eagle's nest but was actually a watchfire which could be seen from the other three towers when it was lit. He stroked the smooth stone, shaped into a natural tower with only a little help from men. The other towers Ximeno pointed out looked almost identical to this one – natural formations that no one would look twice at, approaching the island for the first time. Unlike the wooden watchtowers at Isla and Myroy, which stood out for what they were.
When Ximeno's spiel seemed to wind down, the man took Grieve's arm and looked around before dropping to a whisper. "A word of advice, if I may. Lady Rhona might not be the prettiest girl on the island, but it is cruel to mock her for it. She is the best healer on Rum Isle, perhaps in all of the Southern Isles, and it does not matter if a man must look upon her face instead of his sweetheart's when the lady's help is needed. And she's still the Lady of the Isle – when she marries, her husband will be Lord Ronin's successor, for his claim will go to her. If you intend to stay here, it is not wise to offend Lady Rhona."
"She's already talked about throwing me off a cliff," Grieve admitted, but his thoughts were more on Ximeno's words than his own. Not the prettiest girl on the island? Had Ximeno even looked at the girl? Even clothed, she was lovely. Tall and fair as a Viken, perhaps taller than any other woman he'd seen on Rum Isle, but far from ugly.
"Then you had best guard your tongue most carefully. You must have offered Lady Rhona a grievous insult to offend her so," Ximeno said. "She will be a true lady when her father passes, much like her mother was. Nothing like the new one. They say she throws screeching tantrums if her whims are not acted upon, and never does a thing for anyone. Why, we found her with a cart bogged in the mud the other day, partway home. She beat Nuno with a stick when he didn't get the cart wheel free fast enough. If you ask me, Lord Ronin should get that one pregnant as quickly as possible, and hope the childbed fever takes her like it did his first wife. Poor Lady Blanid. Lady Rhona must be heartbroken even her healing arts could not save her."
"I…thank you," Grieve said. "I should probably help Lady Rhona with…the horses." He stumbled down the uneven steps, wondering how the watchman managed not to break his neck each time he had to race down them to report a raiding party.
"So, do you still think we're defenceless?" Rhona greeted him.
"There's a saying on Myroy that as long as a man still has his wits, he will never be defenceless," Grieve said, stretching his frozen fingers out toward the fire. "I never said Rum Isle was without defences, just that it would benefit from stronger ones." He drew in a deep breath, hoping to inhale courage with the air. Something to stop his knees from shaking, as he added, "And when your watchman spoke of a pretty girl, of course I thought he meant it as a compliment to you. Why would he not? Why, just look at you."
"I believe you already did that, this afternoon," Rhona said dryly.
As if on command, Grieve's cheeks reddened. "I said I was sorry for staring, but I'll never be sorry for seeing what I saw. A vision of loveliness no man would want to forget. And I'll challenge any man who dares say otherwise."
She shook her head, but there was a smile on her lips. "Pretty words, Lewisson, no more. I am not so vain as to wish I were the most beautiful girl in the Southern Isles – I know my own reflection, and I am content. I'm sure your flattery is well meant, though unnecessary. I've already set out our bedrolls, and you may share my bed tonight." She gestured at a stone alcove, where Grieve saw his things beside hers.
His mouth dropped open, but he couldn't think of a word to say. He stared, yet he could detect no hint of laughter in her expression. She expected him to share her bed?
"I…I thought it was customary to start with a kiss," he said.
Uncertainty flared in her eyes. For all her forwardness, she was as nervous as he was.
Grieve grew bolder, stepping forward so that he could embrace her. He lifted a tentative hand to her cheek, which was as soft as he'd imagined it to be. "So beautiful," he murmured.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Gently, oh so carefully, he touched his lips to hers. Her slight gasp dared him to do more, as her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. Only then did he dare to tease her tongue with his, and the taste of her, the softness of the woman in his arms, was enough for him to lose his mind. Once he'd started, he could not stop kissing her – no, not even to draw a breath that had not caressed her breast first with its airy fingers.
By the time Rhona pushed him away, her eyes blazed with the same desire coursing through his veins. With trembling hands, he unfastened his cloak and dropped it on the stone floor. Then he seized the hem of his tunic…
Her hand covered his, pulling the hem down. "Keep your clothes on, Myroy boy. I said you may lie with me – to keep warm, for 'tis cold in this cave, even with the fire going. If I want you to be my lover, I'll tell you so, but not tonight. Though that was a fine kiss. If I do choose you for a lover, I'd hope for many more such kisses."
He stepped away and straightened his tunic. "My apologies, my lady. Your beauty bewitched me again. If you desire another kiss, you have only to ask."
She laid a hand on his chest. "Rhona. You are a lord's son, and I am a lord's daughter. After sharing a kiss like that…we should at least be friends."
"Only if you call me Grieve, the name my mother gave me. And accept that when I say you are beautiful, I mean every word. If other men cannot see it, then they are fools."
She took a deep breath, looking as enervated by the exchange as he felt. "Very well, though it is strange to think every man I have ever known is a fool. Doesn't it seem more likely that the one man who sees things differently is more foolish than the rest? Grieve?"
It was strange yet lovely to her his name on her lips once more. He wanted to hear her gasp it, moan it, maybe even scream it for joy. One day, he promised himself.
>
"If I am a fool, then I do not know it. How would I know? Ah, I have heard some kings keep fools in their courts, who amuse them by telling tales. Shall I share some of the stories I know, and see if they amuse you?"
Rhona sat beside the fire and broke a loaf in two, before handing him half. "Tell all the tales you want. If you tell me one I have not heard, then I will open a bottle of my father's best wine. Belen slipped one into the saddlebags."
A challenge, the likes of which no Myroy man could refuse. Grieve took the bread and began, "Once upon a time…"
Twenty-Three
Shuffling footsteps woke Grieve. A man tiptoed through the cave, taking exaggerated care to make as little noise as possible as he ascended the steps. Nuno, he assumed, for the man looked like last night's watchman, his brother.
Grieve took a deep breath, and inhaled an unfamiliar floral scent. He glanced down. He'd shared Rhona's bed, just as she'd promised, but he had not expected to share tales with her half the night until he'd fallen asleep with her warm weight in his arms. Now, the fully clothed girl was pressed against his side, one arm flung across his belly as if to claim him. Her hand was dangerously close to where he dreamed she'd caressed him. Where he wished she'd touch him now, for he stood to attention for her in anticipation of a more intimate embrace than the one they were in now.
If his father and Lord Ronin sought to matchmake him with Rhona, then he would embrace their plan with all his strength.
"Marry me, Rhona," he whispered into her hair.
He snorted softly. He'd known the woman for a day, but he knew he'd never get her out of his head.
Rhona shifted, and her hand drifted lower, then fastened around him. By all that was holy, how could he feel the heat of her touch through his tunic? Whatever she touched, she burned.
"Well, you're a big one, aren't you? Dreaming about some girl back home?" she asked, giving him an agonisingly good squeeze before letting go.
Grieve swallowed. "Thinking about the girl in my arms right now," he said. "The beautiful Lady Rhona."
She shifted away from him and sat up. "No good morning kisses for you, then. You go take care of that, for we have a long ride ahead of us. I must show you the rest of the island, and tonight, we'll sleep in Sanctuary. The island's biggest secret of all."
Already his arms felt empty without her, but Grieve did as she said. Riding with a raging hard-on for the woman beside him would make for a hell of a day.
Twenty-Four
Perhaps it had been the wine, or all those well-told tales, but as she'd cuddled up to Grieve's warm body in her bedroll that night, Rhona knew she'd made her decision. She would show him Sanctuary. But not because her father had ordered it. No, she'd show him because she wanted him to stay and become one of them.
She'd known him for a day, and yet it felt like she'd known him forever. An easy familiarity had sprung between them last night, like they were a long-lost brother and sister. Yet that kiss…no, that had not been brotherly at all. While her lips were locked with his, she'd seriously considered taking things further, perhaps even letting him make love to her. She'd never thought much about marriage, but she did know one thing – she'd not go to her marriage bed as some virgin maiden who'd never known a man's touch. No, when she took a husband, she'd already know he was a skilled lover.
If Grieve could set her body aflame with a single kiss, imagine what he could do with the rest of his body…and hers…
She dreamed he'd asked her to marry him, but before she could answer, she awoke. Perhaps that was for the best, for she'd found him pitching a tent in his tunic with a look of panic on his face lest she notice. She'd have to be blind indeed not to notice he carried a mighty sword beneath his belt as well as the one that hung from it.
Idly, she wondered what it would feel like to have that length of hot, hard flesh slide inside her, as his hands caressed her and he told her over and over again how beautiful she was.
Rhona almost laughed aloud. A daydream, that's what it was, conjured out of the silly stories they'd told last night. Knights and princess, genies and sultans, courtesans and princesses…all living happily ever after, with no thoughts of war or what might happen in the future. If only life were like the stories.
If it were, then she and Grieve could lie abed, making love to each other so that every moment was happy ever after. But not today, for Nuno had returned, and that meant Ximeno would want their cave to sleep in after standing watch all night. So she freshened up and broke her fast, while Grieve readied himself for the ride along the western side of the island, before they headed to Sanctuary.
The prettier side of the island, some said, because it was the side furthest from Alba. But it was also the least sheltered part of the island, for there was nothing to stop the waves from rolling in and smashing against the cliffs. The spray flew so high Rhona tasted salt on her lips more than once.
If she were to kiss Grieve again, would his lips be salty, too? Her eyes met his and a smile lifted her lips almost of its own volition. Her heart raced as though she'd galloped along the clifftop, instead of keeping to the slow pace such uneven terrain demanded. Grieve was several yards away, yet he'd stolen her breath somehow.
Perhaps…
"What do you think of the plot between my father and yours?" she asked him.
"Which one?"
"The one to make us marry."
Grieve reined his horse to a stop, and Rhona's mount almost collided with his. Close enough to touch, and he did, capturing her hand in his own. "I know nothing of any plot, for the gossip in your kitchen was the first I had heard of it. But the more I think on it, every moment I spend with you, the less I care whether there is a plot at all." He pressed his lips to her hand, a chaste kiss compared to the one they'd shared last night. "I would like to kiss you again, Lady Rhona, and with you in my thoughts, there is no space for anyone else." For a moment, his eyes were dark and full of feeling, before he turned away to gaze toward the horizon. "But you must show me all of Rum Isle's defences. I must make sure…the island…is protected."
The love that had blossomed in her breast as she anticipated another delightful kiss shrivelled in the summer sun as Grieve put more distance between them.
Rhona sighed. She dreamed too much, she knew, for there were too many stories in her head. Grieve was right to be practical about these things, for love could not stop a war.
Twenty-Five
Grieve cursed his clumsiness with words, and with women. For a moment there, it seemed they'd shared the same thoughts, and then it had all gone wrong. Was he supposed to say he heartily approved of their fathers' plot? That couldn't be right – she had made it very clear that she would follow her own heart, not her father's plans.
He scarcely paid attention as she showed him the other three watchtowers and the harbour, introducing him to everyone they met. He smiled and nodded and shook hands, accepting more cups of ale than was good for him.
More than once, he'd had to take a trip into the bushes, to Rhona's amusement.
On the third such detour, she'd waited until he'd climbed back onto his horse before she said, "At least you gave me a show of your own this time. 'Tis a fine arse you have, Lewisson. A mite pale, but I don't suppose it sees much sun."
She'd been watching him piss? Grieve's face grew so hot he feared his skin would crisp off. And then…he smiled, at the knowledge that she'd been watching him. Maybe she was not as cold to him as he'd thought.
He hurried to catch up to her. "Are there any other parts of me you consider fine?" he called.
She tossed her head. "I'm sure I'd have to see more of such parts before I could make a judgement like that."
He drew even with her. "And what parts of me would you like to see more of, my lady?"
She darted a glance at him, then looked away. "I'm sure I don't know. But you have seen all of me, so it seems only fitting that I should see all of you. And I thought we agreed to use first names, not…anything else."
"So we did. And if my lady wishes to see all of me, she has only to ask."
She closed her eyes. "Grieve…"
"Yes, Rhona?"
"Stop. We have arrived."
Grieve looked around. "This is no sanctuary. A sheltered depression, out of the wind, with the river running alongside, but it is too open. The enemy would only need to follow your trail here, and there would be no escape. You'd be slaughtered."
"And yet no enemy has ever taken Rum Isle," Rhona said softly. "You see that waterfall?"
Grieve's gazed followed her pointing finger. "It's pretty," he said cautiously.
Rhona laughed. She slid down and began to unfasten her saddle. She gave her horse a slap on the rump in dismissal and carried her things toward the waterfall.
Grieve hurried to do the same. But the buckles refused to unfasten, so by the time he'd freed his horse, Rhona was nowhere to be seen.
"Rhona?" he called, feeling like a fool. He set off for the waterfall, wondering if he would see her from there.
The waterfall turned pink, before she emerged from behind it, brushing water droplets from her cloak. "Are you coming, or are you waiting for an enemy army to appear?"
It was another natural watchtower, Grieve guessed, as he scrambled up the damp rocks to where Rhona stood.
"Come and see," she said, turning to lead the way.
He was surprised to find the entrance was big enough to walk through without ducking his head or turning sideways – unlike the watchtowers she'd shown him. The passage beyond narrowed as it led upward, and he left his saddle beside hers, shouldering his bags so they wouldn't catch on the walls. The combination of slippery stone and the sharp incline made it a challenge to keep his footing, but Grieve managed to follow Rhona without actually falling, though he slipped twice. He noticed several passages that led to the left and right, but Rhona did not turn, and he had no choice but to follow where she led.
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