Keeper of the Swans

by Nancy Butler

  “I like pomegranates,” he murmured. And to prove it, he drew his open mouth slowly over her left cheek. Diana felt her toes curl into tiny fists.

  “And do you like nettles, as well?” she inquired as her fingers traced over his collar.

  “I’ll overlook the nettles, as long as they remain on your skirt and don’t wander onto your tongue.”

  “You think me sharp-tongued, then? A fishwife?” She baited him with a grin.

  “I think you completely adorable, my witch. And as for your tongue—”

  He traced one finger along her mouth, and then having opened it slightly, he brought his lips to hers and let his tongue wander into that moist cavern. It danced against her own tongue, flooding her with so many delicious sensations and making her so dizzy that she thought the caravan had tipped over and toppled her to the floor.

  She actually was on the floor, she realized, once she came out of her languid stupor. In the midst of his long kiss, Romulus had lifted her from the bench and lowered her to the small patterned rug.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she said, gazing up at him. It was the question she had been wordlessly asking him since he had first sat on her bed to feed her broth.

  This time her tall river god gave her an answer. “Love you, Allegra,” he said. “Nothing else seems to make any sense.”

  She touched a hand to his mouth. “And you don’t think I am a scatterbrained goose?”

  “Oh, I never said that,” he teased gently. “But then you know how fond I am of waterfowl.”

  She chuckled. “God, how I envied those swans of yours. I am more of a wren, don’t you think?”

  He studied her a minute, thinking she was more lovely than any creature on God’s earth. With her midnight hair and morning-sky eyes, her rose-red mouth and peach-blossom skin, she was a symphony of all that was fair in nature.

  “You are neither goose nor wren,” he said, drawing her against his chest. “You are the bright phoenix bird, who rises up from the ashes of loss and gives hope to those who have been too long without it.”

  Diana clung to him, all glibness gone. She was crying again, not for herself, or for her foolish illusions of love, but for Romulus, for the pain in his voice when he had spoken of loss and for the wonder in his face when he had spoken of hope. For all his skill at healing, she now knew he had not been able to heal his own wounds. But she could—she would make it her life’s work if necessary.

  “Ach, don’t cry, my little pomegranate,” he crooned, rocking her. “Niall will think I am beating you.”

  She laughed against his shirt. “I doubt he would object,” she said. “I think he wanted to beat me himself when I arrived here.”

  “But I thought he invited you?”

  “Not to run away, not to come here alone. He said I was lucky I didn’t get tumbled in a hedgerow.”

  “The night is still young,” Romulus drawled as he tipped her head back and kissed her throat. He moved to her mouth, murmuring against it, “And hedgerows are common hereabouts.”

  “Don’t,” Diana protested. “Don’t make me laugh while you are kissing me.”

  “Can’t do two things at once, hmm?”

  “I need to concentrate,” she said, “I don’t want to be distracted.”

  “Sorry,” he said, as he returned to his pursuit of her lips. She sighed deeply as he turned her head this way and that, trying out all possible angles, discovering that each one was perfect in its way.

  There was a sudden thudding at the door. “Allegra!” It was Niall’s voice. “Are you all right? I don’t hear anything.”

  Romulus shook his head. “You’d think the boy could use his imagination.” She giggled into her hand.

  “Allegra? I’m coming in if you don’t answer me.”

  “Go find your own woman, damn you!” Romulus called out.

  The top half of the door opened. Niall leaned his elbows on the bottom half and grinned. “Just wanted to see how things were progressing.”

  Diana shifted into a sitting position, adjusting the neckline of her blouse.

  “My granty needs her caravan back,” Niall stated amiably. “She doesn’t like all the smoke from the fire—says it makes her cough.”

  “That’s probably from her damned pipe,” Romulus growled as he tugged Diana to her feet. “Anyway, we both know your grandmother is made of Toledo steel.”

  He flung open the bottom door and swept Diana down the stairs. Then he was off across the grass, towing her behind him. She cast a sheepish look over her shoulder at Niall, and was surprised to see him ushering a buxom young serving girl into the caravan.

  “I think he did,” she said breathlessly as he drew her swiftly away from the noisy crowd.

  “Did what?”

  “Get his own woman,” she said with a chuckle.

  Her blood was racing through her veins, and she felt as though her feet were skimming over the grass. Every hundred feet or so, Rom would stop his progress, catch her up in his arms and kiss her soundly. Then he would take hold of her hand and again propel her across the field.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when he finally came to a halt at the very edge of the pasture.

  “Looking for a hedgerow,” he said with a grin that she could see in the dark.

  “Truly?” she asked with undisguised anticipation.

  “You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Tumble you in a Gypsy field?”

  Diana pondered this. “You’d have to do something first,” she said cautiously.

  “What? Marry you?”

  “No,” she said, trying to sound somber. “Take the fishing hooks out of your pockets.”

  She darted away from his hands, laughing as she ran. He let her get a good head start and then easily caught up with her. When he wrestled her to the ground, she was still laughing, but when he kissed her, covering her body with his own, she was suddenly quiet.

  Then she gasped as he stroked one hand over her breast. “My witch,” he murmured just above her mouth. “Strega mia della aqua.” She purred her delight at his lilting words. “My entrancing water witch.”

  Diana tugged at his hair, letting her fingers tangle among the long, thick strands. “Romulus,” she whispered. “My only, ever love.”

  He groaned softly as she pulled his head down to her mouth. She let her tongue dart against his and heard the sharp intake of his breath. He was like Toledo steel himself beneath her questing hands, hard and fit. But when he moved, raising himself slightly to slide his body along hers in an arching, aching caress, he was supple and fluid, like a sinuous jungle cat.

  Diana had not known it could be like this between a man and a woman. That every heated touch could intoxicate, that every hungry kiss could stimulate, until they swirled together into a steadily rising need. Her body was longing for his touch, even as his hands explored her skin. Her mouth cried out for his kisses even as his lips melted against hers. No contact appeased her; she longed for some completion that was far beyond her ken.

  It was only when he drew down the wide neckline of her blouse and laid his mouth against the rise of her breast, that she at last understood what it was she sought. As he raked his teeth over her flesh, her body began to shudder. And deep within her another sort of shuddering began. A twisting, burning, coiling ache of need. She moaned as her hips rose to meet his body.

  “No,” she gasped as he let his mouth drift to the tip of her breast. “Ah, yes!” she cried out as he flicked his tongue over the swollen bud. Again she arched up to meet the fire.

  “This is a dream, Allegra,” he breathed against her skin. “This is every beguiling dream I have ever had, even before I knew you existed.”

  “It’s not a dream,” she countered, in a low, throaty voice. “It is a storybook, filled with gallant heroes. It is every wondrous tale I’ve ever read and believed in.”

  “Then I’ll be your storybook hero,” he said into the hollow of her throat.

  “And I’ll be your beguiling
dream.”

  Romulus hugged her tightly, and then shifted away from her. She was frowning slightly as he sat up.

  “Are we finished?” Her body was insisting that there had to be something more.

  He grinned and reached out to touch the side of her face. “I think I’d better be your storybook husband, before we go any further.”

  Diana gave him a relieved smile. “So there is a ‘further’? You see, I am very naive about these things.” She leaned forward and propped her elbows on his knees. “Someone will have to teach me, I expect.”

  Romulus chuckled softly. “I believe we can find some poor unsuspecting soul to do the job.”

  “He will need to be tall,” she mused as he drew her into his lap and twined his arms around her waist. “And I do fancy red hair. Dark red, you know, like beech leaves.”

  “Not an uncommon color,” he murmured against her ear.

  “And his eyes should be green…and brown…and gold.”

  “It gets more difficult.”

  “His nose must be arched, and his mouth….”

  “What about his mouth?” he breathed.

  “His mouth…his mouth—”

  Romulus demonstrated exactly what this paragon’s mouth needed to be like. Hungry and demanding, gentle and coaxing. By the time he’d finished, they were both lying on the grass, shivering with desire.

  “This isn’t working,” Rom groaned as he attempted to stand up and failed utterly. “Another five minutes and we won’t need a parson.”

  “Maybe you would like to rail at me now for stealing your skiff,” Diana suggested, trying not to grin—her river god looked positively bosky. Not that it wasn’t entirely gratifying that she was the one responsible for his unsteady state. “I’d rather you got that over with before we go back to the island.”

  Romulus considered this. “The trouble is, Allegra, that even when I am furious with you, I still want to kiss you. You got a taste of that this afternoon.”

  “Well, then, don’t get angry. Just read me a cutting lecture on my bad behavior. Icy disdain is much more effective than anger.”

  He rolled over and leaned back on his elbows. “Very well. But first, tell me why you were crying in the caravan. I suspect you wanted me to come after you. The skiff and the bracelet were hard to miss.”

  Diana nodded. “I left a trail a blind man could follow. Yet it took you hours to find me. It was very embarrassing to be sitting there with Niall and Gizella, thinking you didn’t care enough to come after me. I thought you knew the river, Romulus, at least well enough not to row past your own boat.”

  “Unfortunately, I also know the river rats. Argie Beasle resurfaced while I was in Treypenny. With Wald Chipping, the ferryman. I got sidetracked in my search for you.”

  “What happened?” She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

  “They cast off in Wald’s ferry boat, and I feared they were going after my swan’s. But they surprised me by heading upstream. Probably after rabbits or pheasant.”

  “Well that’s a relief. Anymore questions?”

  He plucked up a long stem of grass and began to chew on it. “Mmm. Maybe one or two. The thing I have been perishing to know, is what the devil you were doing in a rowboat last Saturday night.”

  “Oh, that. I thought I’d made that clear. I was hiding from Beveril.”

  “And why were you hiding from your intended husband?”

  Diana bit her lip. “I think I’d better tell you the whole story.”

  “Hallelujah,” Romulus said under his breath. He’d only been waiting for five days.

  Diana rose and assumed an orator’s stance. “I left my betrothal ball because I needed some air. These society parties are all very well, but there are generally far too many people crowded into a—”

  “We’ve only got until dawn, Allegra,” he reminded her drily.

  She winced. “Sorry, but I thought you wanted to know everything.”

  Romulus motioned her to continue. “As you will, my witch.”

  “I left the ball and went down to the river, because I needed to think…. I was very troubled over my upcoming marriage to Beveril.”

  “Ah. You begin to make some sense,” Romulus interjected.

  “While I was on the dock, a couple happened along. I hid in the rowboat so that I wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions.”

  “Like how you could bear to affiance yourself to a pompous windbag, you mean.”

  Diana disregarded this remark. “I was there for some time. The couple, er…well, they were doing what most couples do when they sneak off from a party.” She stopped and gave Romulus a wicked grin.

  “And did you discover the identity of this amorous couple?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It was Sir Beveril and Vivian Partridge.”

  Romulus gave himself a small nod of acknowledgment for having anticipated that scenario days ago.

  “And you felt very humiliated there in your rowboat,” he stated gently.

  “Yes,” she said, clasping her hands before her, “I have never been so mortified or so angry.”

  “Angry because he was kissing Vivian Partridge?”

  “No,” she said. “Angry because he called me an antidote and said my hair was an untamed mane. I am only revealing these lowering comments to you, because I think you don’t mind so much how I look.”

  Romulus rose up at once and hugged her waist. “My darling Allegra, you are spectacularly beautiful. Great heavens, has no one ever told you? Why do you think I’ve been beating Niall off with a stick?”

  “You are very kind to say that, but I think it is only because you care for me.”

  Romulus shook his head vehemently. “Even if I wasn’t top-over-tail in love with you, I’d still have to acknowledge that you are a paragon.”

  “You,” she stated firmly, “have not seen my sister. She was well named Helen. That lady from Troy had nothing on her for looks. She is quite beautiful. And she is never shatterbrained or hot tempered.”

  “She sounds like a dull lot to me, Allegra.”

  She sighed. “I do so like it when you call me Allegra. Being named Diana is all very well, if one is an alluring huntress with long legs and a noteworthy bosom.”

  “I think your bosom is quite worthy of note,” he said slyly.

  “I am much more an Allegra than I will ever be a Diana. But see, you have distracted me from Beveril.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “After he and Lady Vivian left the dock, I was determined to march right into the ball and end my engagement. But then the boat came loose. I wasn’t so afraid at first—until I met you I thought I knew all about navigating the river. But there was only one oar—”

  “Very bad for rowing,” he remarked.

  “Then, well, you know the rest. The bump on my head, falling into the water, being rescued by a tall river god—

  “What?”

  “That’s how I thought of you at first. I was quite dazzled, you know.”

  “Daft is more like it.”

  “Oh, and who is resisting compliments now?” she chided him. “You were so tender with the cygnets, and so wise about so many things. I had never met a man like you, Romulus. My father is very kind, but in an absentminded way. And the gentlemen of the ton are more concerned with their shirt points and their watch fobs than with living, breathing things.”

  Romulus watched her in silence for a bit.

  She shifted on the grass. “What is it? You’ve grown so quiet.”

  “You won’t be part of the ton if you marry me. You must understand that. My father was a river warden, a commoner. I know little of my mother, but I assume she was of his class. I’ve never been out in society. Except for my friends in the regiment, I have never hobnobbed with the gentry.”

  “I have no love for the ton, Romulus.”

  “It’s not only the ton, sweetheart. Your family will not support you in marrying m
e. They may very well turn their backs on you—you need to think on that before we are wed. Doors will be closed to you that you now take for granted as being open.”

  Diana knelt down beside him. “The only door I need opened to me is the one to your heart. My father will accept you, because he loves me, Helen and James may be upset at first, but I know they will come to care for you. James desires a seat in Parliament…it might even please him that I am marrying a man who works to earn his bread.”

  “The common touch, eh?” Romulus sounded doubtful.

  “You are not common in the least,” she said with great conviction as she cupped his cheek. “So now that you know the entire story, do you forgive me for lying to you?”

  He sat unspeaking for a moment. “I’m still not sure I understand why you needed to keep up the pretense. You’d already made up your mind to jilt Beveril—you could have gone home the day after you recovered from your fever and had it out with your family.”

  “What, and never see you or hear from you again? I knew the longer you let me stay on, the more chance that I could make you love me. I was suffering bridal nerves, Romulus—to use your wretched expression—but Beveril wasn’t the groom in question.”

  Romulus sighed. “And there I was, holding back my feelings, thinking you couldn’t possibly love a man like me. I don’t know which of us was the more foolish.” He added as an afterthought, “I gather you never really believed I was keeping you with me to spite Beveril.”

  Diana was glad he couldn’t see her guilty blush in the darkness. “I only said those things to provoke you. I couldn’t have borne it if you’d sent me away without telling me how you felt.”

  “Oh, you provoked me, right enough.” He tipped her head back, his fingers tracing along the pulse in her throat. “I’ve never come nearer to throttling a woman. I hope you’re not going to keep up this tendency to lie once we are wed.”

  “Just a few small lies,” she said with a grin. “To keep things interesting.”

  “Oh, I doubt that will ever be a problem,” he murmured as he let his mouth follow the trail that his fingers had blazed along her neck. With a moan she lay back in the grass as he worked his way up to the soft recess behind her ear. He raised his lips from her skin, leaving behind a shimmering heat.