Heart of the Dove

by Tina St. John

  "Well," he said, "what do you think?"

  Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze up to where he stood before her, wanting to tell him she thought him a disagreeable oaf, a stubborn churl. Instead she gaped, taken aback with surprise.

  "You look...very different." She frowned, shaking her head. "At a distance, I might not even recognize you."

  He grinned, running his hand over his smooth, beardless jaw. "That is the idea."

  Serena could not resist a closer look. She set aside her basket and stood up, approaching him with open curiosity. The angular cut of his cheeks was more pronounced without the dark whiskers, as was the stern line of his jaw. His face was lean, unforgiving, striking. He had a dimple in his chin, she noted with a half-contained smile. She wanted very badly to touch him, and see if his skin would be soft beneath the beard that had hidden him all this time. And now that it was gone, his eyes were ever more intense, piercing beneath the deep brown slashes of his brows.

  "You have a nice face," she proclaimed, too struck by him to hold back her praise.

  He grunted, and the barest trace of a crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Elspeth used to say I looked too fierce without my whiskers. My jaw was too strong for her liking. Too grim, so she'd tell me."

  To her chagrin, a pang of jealousy bit her, returned again, like the irritation of a burr that she could not quite pluck away. She crossed her arms over her breasts and gave a little shrug. "'Tis a nice face. Handsome, I would say."

  "Truly?"

  "Aye," she said, endeavoring to say it with as little conviction as she could muster.

  She turned away from him to hide her sudden blush.

  "Handsome," he repeated, seeming slightly bemused, but rather pleased with himself.

  "That is what I said." Serena turned away from him, retreating to her task of collecting more fruit. When she was settled on the ground once more, she paused and threw him a considering look over her shoulder. "Although I cannot be sure, of course. I've no one to compare you to."

  * * *

  He had upset her again.

  He thought to tease her about her stubborn opinion that there was something in him worth saving, but he saw at once that his jest carried an unintended barb. He should have apologized, and meant to still, but she seemed intent to ignore him now. He should be relieved for that small mercy, but instead it left him frustrated and feeling very much a boor. Just being with Serena was making him question himself, his goals...everything.

  And she thought him handsome.

  She likely thought him a charmless brute as well. Perhaps it was a mistake to accompany her out to pick berries this morning. After the torturous night he'd spent with her in the cottage, being with her again, alone, was unwise on many levels.

  Soon it would not matter, for he spoke the truth when he said he would be leaving the grove for Egremont in a few days. He had to, before he let things spiral out of control with Serena.

  Rand strode away from the thin stream and settled himself on the ground nearby. Serena, meanwhile, worked in silence, her graceful fingers choosing the most succulent fruit for her basket. She hardly wore her gloves any longer, not even around him. He smiled, seeing the purple stains gather on her pale skin as her basket filled. One particularly juicy berry crushed in her tender grasp. She gave a little cry of dismay, then popped the ruined berry into her mouth and sucked the juice from her fingertips.

  Rand nearly growled in hunger, though it was not the whortleberries that he craved.

  He looked away in frustration, eager for something else to focus on. He found a small branch of old wood beside him in the thicket. The scant patches of dew-moistened bark came off in his hands, baring a smooth piece of oak. Rand took his dagger to it and began carving in idle distraction.

  For a long while, there was just the sound of the stream racing by, the soft rustle of the berry bushes, and the rhythmic slice of the blade against the wood. Finally Serena sat back with a sigh.

  "That should be enough," she said, lifting the filled basket onto her lap.

  She started to get up, but before she could, Rand approached her and hunkered down beside her. He held out his hand to her, his fingers curled into a fist. Serena gave him a dubious look.

  "For you," he said, then opened his hand and presented the finished carving to her in the cradle of his palm.

  "Oh!" Serena set down her basket, then took the little dove into her hands. She admired it from every angle, gazing upon it like the finest prize she had ever seen. "You made this? Look at the detail, the way its head is tucked toward its wing--why, I can even see the delicate lines of each feather!"

  "Do you like it?"

  "Yes," she exclaimed. "It's beautiful, Rand. Thank you. I adore it."

  He shrugged, uncomfortable with her praise despite the fact that he had sought it. He grew reflective, seeing her joy at his meager creation. "I've lost count of how many such figures I've made over the years. The first was a little horse for Tod. I carved it the night he was born--it was all that kept me from tearing apart the keep while I was waiting the hours for his arrival. As he grew older, I made more for him. My son had a king's menagerie of wooden creatures, knights, and castles by the time he was old enough to walk."

  Serena laughed then, and shook her head.

  "What is it?"

  "Nothing. I just..." She glanced down at the little figurine in her palm, her smile not quite hidden behind the fall of her dark hair. "You surprise me, that's all."

  Rand found himself warming to her, a smile tugging at his lips as well. "Why do I surprise you?"

  "That you would have the patience, the care," she said, then looked up at him at last. "Your hands are so large, so able with a weapon, I would not have thought..."

  "Ah. You would have thought me suited only for warring, is that it, my lady?"

  She shrugged.

  "These hands are battered," he admitted, turning up his callused palms, "but they can be tender. With you, they would be most tender. And they have many skills that might surprise you, my lady."

  Her blush spread a certain heat through him as it pinkened her cheeks. It emboldened him, that sweet rosy tint and shy smile. He brought his hand up slowly, and touched the deepening shade of her blush.

  "They can, for example, strum the strings of a lute in song."

  Serena smiled, a note of confusion in her gaze. "A lute?"

  "You've never seen one," he surmised, dismayed that she had never known the joy of troubadours entertaining in a bustling feast hall. "The lute is a musical instrument made of polished hollow wood. 'Tis shaped like a pear, but with a long goose neck and strings stretched so tightly down it, that when you strum them, like this--" with his thumb, he gently stroked the velvet softness of her cheek "--they sing the most beautiful music."

  "You can play this thing--a lute?"

  "Aye, and quite well, I should say."

  "And you sing?"

  He shrugged. "A bit."

  "You lied to me last night," she exclaimed, laughing through her outrage.

  "I do not claim to be any good, and it was no lie that I might injure your ears if I tried it now. But I once had an interest. When I was a boy, I often thought I would rather strum music than take up the sword."

  "Did you?" Serena's eyes widened in surprise.

  "I didn't dare tell my sire, of course. We came from a long line of knights and sundry other war-bred scoundrels. My father was a good man, but he would have had my arse if he knew I spent as much time composing my chansons as I did practicing at combat."

  Serena laughed. "Your secret is safe with me."

  Rand smiled back at her, unguarded and relaxed in her company. It was a strange feeling. He hadn't known such easy contentment in his marriage, not even in the early days. Elspeth swung so readily between giddiness and melancholy, he never knew what to expect at any given moment. He was forever on alert, without peace.

  "What is it?" Serena asked, her placid eyes holding him in tende
r regard.

  She was a balm to his very soul, this innocent wood nymph with the sorceress' touch. Her beauty framed by the verdant splendor of the forest, Serena enchanted him. Very carefully, barely permitting his fingers to skate atop the perfection of her lily fair skin, Rand caressed her pretty face. With a wordless sigh, she turned her cheek into his palm, kissing him there, welcoming him without a word.

  Her response was always so open, so giving. Gazing into her eyes, it would be easy to wish he never had to leave her, that he never had to leave this peaceful slice of Eden on England's northern shore.

  "I have tried to keep my distance, Serena, but you draw me close every time." Rand smoothed the pad of his thumb along the gentle line of her jaw. "And these hands are too rough for such innocence."

  "No," she whispered, her lips moving warm and sweet against his fingers.

  She nuzzled his palm, and every sinew in Rand's body tensed with need. He held himself as still as stone, his gaze downcast, unwilling to look at her and see the desire he feared would be there in her eyes. He wanted her more than he had a right, and he did not know how much longer he could keep himself in check.

  Lost, he thought.

  If she did not turn him away now, he would be lost.

  Serena's tender hand came up to cup his shaven cheek. Her touch enflamed him. He groaned, and tried to pull away.

  "No," she said, just a breath of sound in the stillness that surrounded them. "Don't try to protect me. I am strong--you said so yourself, remember?"

  He looked up then, too late to heed his own advice. She was smiling at him, her lush pink mouth a supple curve that tempted him to taste it, her ocean-blue gaze both innocent and wise.

  "If you are lost to this, Rand, so am I."

  She smoothed her fingers along his bare jaw as if committing the feel of him to memory. She touched his lips, and Rand could not contain his growling need.

  "Serena," he said, a warning, a curse. A plea. "Damn it, Serena."

  Rand speared his fingers through her unbound hair, catching her nape in his palm. Their lips met tenderly at first, then swiftly burned into something fierce and urgent.

  He needed to feel her body against his. With his hand at her back to guide her, Rand eased her down onto the pad of moss beneath them. The basket of berries tipped, and soon the scent of sweet nectar mingled with the heat of mounting desire.

  Rand found one of the succulent fruits and placed it between his teeth. He bent down with the offering, feeding Serena from his lips. The berry crushed amid their kiss, rich as wine and just as heady. Serena sucked on her half and swallowed it. Rand's breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything as tempting as the sight of her plump lips stained deep red and glistening with juice. A small droplet slid from the corner of her mouth. Rand caught it with his tongue, then claimed her in a deeper kiss.

  Her body moved beneath him in a tantalizing squirm of motion. Her breasts pressed into his chest, firm and ripe as any forbidden fruit, making him yearn to touch them. Her slim belly arched into him as he trailed kisses from her sweet mouth to her velvety throat. She groaned a wordless cry of pleasure when his tongue teased the hollow of her neck and shoulder. He nipped her lightly, spurred by the feel of her hips cradling his pelvis, lifting up to meet him in innocent enthusiasm.

  He had to touch her.

  Bringing his hand up between them, he cupped her breast, kneading the perfect mound. Through the simple weave of her bliaut and chemise, her nipple rose like a pearl. He rolled the tight nub against his palm, squeezing her fullness, mad with the need to taste her.

  "Yes," she panted, her spine arching beneath him, offering herself to him so openly he nearly shook with passion. "Rand, yes..."

  Her entreaty was a sigh against his mouth, no reservation, just sweet, sensual invitation.

  He wanted her. God, but had he ever wanted anything--or anyone--so much?

  He knew the answer, just as surely as he knew the fevered response of his body to hers. His arousal beat like thunder through his veins, hardening him to the point of breaking. Pressed against her softness, her thighs having sometime parted beneath him, Rand ached to bury himself inside her.

  "No," he muttered, hardly able to summon the thought, let alone the will to voice his denial. "Serena...God...no."

  Rand broke away from kissing her and gazed down at her in torment. Her lips were parted, her neck flushed. She said nothing, merely looked up at him in wordless anguish, her nipples erect beneath her bodice, breasts heaving with every panting breath she took.

  Rand bent down and kissed her brow, her nose, her chin. He could not so much as look at her sweet, welcoming mouth.

  "What are you doing to me," he murmured, dropping his head to her chest. "Why does it have to be you? Why now?"

  "Shh. It's all right."

  She was stroking his back, soothing sweeps of her hands across his spine and shoulders. Her breathing slowed, calming as she merely held him in the cool shade of the forest. Beside them, the stream gurgled merrily. Birds flitted in the trees overhead. It was sweet how she held him, demanding nothing of him, lulling him toward peace with her gentling demeanor.

  This was a new bliss, another he did not recognize from the life he knew before Serena. He felt cared for, and relaxed.

  He felt...content.

  After a long moment, Serena raised her head and peered at his tunic sleeve.

  "You've got berry stains all over you," she pointed out, yet a little breathless. She brought her hand up to cover her smile. "You're an utter mess."

  "And you as well," he said, eyeing her with considerably less amusement. He moved off of her and got to his feet, then offered her his hand to help her rise. "Your mother will assume the worst--and she won't be far off the mark."

  Serena waved away his concern. "I have a plan. Come with me!"

  Despite his herculean show of control, he was still tense with desire, still dangerous in his need. He had stopped just short of disaster, and although he wanted to take her back to the cottage while he had the strength of will to do so, Serena was already moving. She took his hand in hers before he could argue, and led him on a mad jaunt through the forest. Rand heard the rush of the falls up ahead. Serena looked back at him, laughing, her eyes bright with mischief.

  "Come on, faster!" she cried, pulling him easily along.

  The sun shone down on the white rush of the cascade, making it glow like a beacon as the forest gave way to the clearing of the falls. Arcs of light broke in the rising mist, shattering in an explosion of dancing color as the water poured into the pool at the base of the steep cascade.

  And in the midst of it all, framed by light and nature and the breathtaking beauty of a moment stolen from a fairy story, was Serena. Her black hair caught in the breeze off the water, lifting around her like a tempest of ebony silk. Her face was flushed, her lips yet berry-stained and lush from kissing him. Her aqua eyes dazzled above all else, shining to shame the brightest jewel.

  "Come with me, Rand!"

  She was backing away from him, smiling as she edged nearer to the pool. He didn't think a swim together would be wise.

  "Don't think," she said, her Knowing touch light on his hand. "Just feel."

  She let go and turned to face the crystalline pool behind her. Then she dived in, clothes and all, vanishing beneath the surface of the water.

  Rand glanced around him at the empty woods. From within the rolling mist of the falls, he heard Serena laughing, calling to him through the roar of the water. Her carefree jubilation overtook him. With a shout of laughter raw in his throat, Rand bounded for the edge and dove in after her.

  Chapter 15

  The noontide sun was warm and bright, beating down on the smooth granite of the pool's edge. Rand lay on his back, his eyes closed against the stark light above. His clothes were merely damp on his body under the soothing heat of the sun's rays. Serena sat beside him on the rocks, bracing her arms behind her. She idly swung her bare feet in the water, d
angling them over the lip of the cascade pool.

  "A good plan, was it not?" she asked, and Rand opened one eye to see her gazing down at him, smiling. "Our clothes are clean, and I daresay you actually look to be relaxed."

  Rand groaned despite his agreement. "We're wet as seals."

  And Serena looked entirely too beguiling with her face glowing in the sunshine, her black hair spread around her like ribbons, and her plainspun bliaut drying like a second skin against her curves.

  But he was relaxed with her, he realized. He had laughed with her beneath the falls, lost himself in crystalline waters and the sparkling joy in Serena's eyes. Even while his desire for her still burned, unquenched, he knew a certain peace. There was a pleasant calm about him, and it had everything to do with the pure, caring heart of the woman seated next to him.

  He felt safe and warm, something he had not known since the raid on Greycliff keep. Perhaps longer still. It seemed a betrayal of his soul--his honor--to feel so free now. His wife and child were gone. Until that score was settled, he had no right to claim even a moment of this simple bliss.

  "You're thinking about home," Serena said quietly.

  It was her intuition that read him now, not the Knowing, for she was not touching him at all. She merely looked at him and saw that his thoughts were drifting back to the life he once knew. Rand made no effort to deny it; for their short time together, he believed that Serena understood him better than anyone ever had.

  "Tell me what happened, Rand." Serena pulled her feet from the water and carefully settled herself a bit closer to him on the rocky ledge of the pool. She reached out to him, her fingers tender as she combed them through his damp hair. "It's all right. You can talk to me. Tell me what happened."

  For a long while, Rand was unable to form words to recount the horror of his last day at Greycliff. The hell had started before the raid, in truth, when he realized his marriage--and the life he had been living--was over.

  "There was a healer," he said at last. "She was new to the neighboring village by a year or thus. She was strange and solitary, but learned. She came to our keep with her baskets of herbs, and quickly befriended Elspeth."