Mirror, Mirror

by Robb, J. D.

  She glanced at her watch and hurriedly finished her breakfast. It was because of her nerves that she’d overslept again this morning. Of course, she could blame her sleep pattern on the distance she’d traveled, and the time change. But in her heart, she knew the truth. Her interrupted sleep was the fault of her very handsome, attentive guide who’d begun to haunt even her dreams.

  She carried her dishes indoors, then hurried up to her room to fetch her paints and canvas. With everything packed neatly in a handled carryall, she descended the stairs to find Cullen conversing easily with Bridget and Sean.

  He looked over with a quick smile. “Right on time. Ready?”

  “I am.” She turned to Bridget. “Did Cullen explain that I won’t be back in time for lunch?”

  “That he did.”

  Sydney arched a brow, but Cullen merely smiled and offered his arm. On the porch he paused to pick up a large wicker basket. And then, hand in hand, they left the inn and walked along the curving walkway until they came to a stone path leading down to the river.

  Cullen guided her down the steep slope. “Did your father tell you how the river came by its name?”

  Sydney nodded. “He said the river is so named because it’s always clear as glass. Even in the deepest part of the river, you can see clear to the bottom.”

  “That’s so.” When they reached the river’s banks, Cullen pointed, and Sydney paused to study a jumble of silvery pebbles at the very bottom of the river. As she watched, a school of fish, swimming by in perfect symmetry, caught sight of her shadow and broke ranks to dart in different directions. The sight of them, nervously flitting about, had her laughing.

  She set her carryall in the grass and knelt alongside the water.

  Cullen was watching her. “Did your father tell you about the river Glass’s famous Slipper Rock?”

  “Only that it’s so named because it’s shaped like a lady’s slipper. Is there more?”

  “Much more.” Cullen stared into the distance. “The light shining through the waterfall gives the rock the look of crystal. But up close, it’s made of natural granite, with bits of quartz and mica that add the shimmer of jewels. Slipper Rock stands guard in the middle of the river, and has for as long as the town has been here. Many here believe it possesses magical powers.”

  “Magic?” Sydney was instantly intrigued. “What sort of powers?”

  “For one, it’s said that when lovers are touched by the light shining through Slipper Rock, they remain true to that love for all time.”

  “Do you know of any such lovers?” Intrigued, her eyes widened.

  “I do indeed. Both my parents and grandparents claimed to have been blessed by the light. Of course, that’s true of many of our good citizens. But the story took on greater importance several generations ago.” Cullen’s voice lowered. “People still talk about the beautiful young maiden in our town who wed the great love of her life. Within days of their marriage, her young husband went off to war, leaving her with his babe growing within her. On that sad day he promised that one day he would return and look for her on the banks of the river Glass. She gave him her word that she would wait for him here. And so she waited, day after day, month after endless month, until at last her wee babe was born.”

  “Did her husband ever come back?”

  “He did. Gravely wounded, he saw his love swimming in the river and, heedless of his wounds, called out to her, tore off his bloody tunic, and leapt into the water, eager to join her. She, in turn, began swimming toward him. By the time they came together in the deep, he’d lost so much blood ’tis said the river ran red with it, and Slipper Rock reflected that same bloodred hue from the setting sun. The young husband was too weak to continue. And though his wife made a valiant effort to get him to shore, the weight of his dead body dragged her down to the depths. They were found the following morning, still locked in one another’s arms.”

  Sydney looked stricken. “How sad to think, after waiting so long, they had no time to be together.”

  Cullen arched a brow. “When you think of all the lovers torn apart by war, these were the lucky ones, for they died together, and together they remain for all eternity.”

  “At least there’s that.” Sydney thought about it for a moment. “What about their baby?”

  “My grandfather? He was raised by some good villagers and lived a long and productive life.”

  “Your grandfather!” Sydney’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle her little cry. “What an amazing story. And what good friends and neighbors.” She glanced at the sparkling water. “Do you believe the lovers are still here?”

  “I believe their spirits remain.”

  “What makes you believe? Have you ever seen them?”

  “I haven’t. No. But there are many who claim to have seen them on a moonlit night. And they say that whoever is lucky enough to see them feels a sense of peace and quiet joy that soothes even the most broken heart and soul.”

  “What a sad and lovely story.” Sydney held a hand to her eyes to shade the sunlight glinting off Slipper Rock. “Is that a waterfall?”

  “It is.” Cullen offered his hand. “If you’d like, we can cross the bridge and get a better view from the other side.”

  Sydney took his hand and walked with him across a lovely old wooden bridge that spanned the river at its narrowest point.

  “Oh, my.” She drew in a breath at the spectacular view from this side of the river, with the town and its church spire up on a hill reflected in the still, quiet waters. Slipper Rock, gleaming in the sunlight, appeared to be made of spun glass.

  “I really have to paint Slipper Rock from here. With the light just so, and the water shimmering around it.”

  “All right.” Cullen watched as she began setting up her easel and opening her paints. “If you’ve no need of me, I’ll leave you to it.”

  A short time later Sydney glanced around to see Cullen lying in the shade of a tree, hands beneath his head, eyes closed, peacefully sleeping. He looked, for all the world, like a man who hadn’t a care.

  Was that why she was so drawn to him? Was it the fact that he wasn’t driven to spend all his time charging full-speed ahead, eager for more and more success, like most of the men she knew?

  She couldn’t think of another man who would be willing to spend his days in the company of someone he’d just met on a plane, content to show her around his town instead of getting back to his own life.

  She’d expected to feel self-conscious having him around while she painted. But as she began to sketch Slipper Rock, and then apply paint to canvas, she was soon so absorbed in her work, she completely forgot about the man dozing in the shade of a tree. But his grandfather’s story would remain in her heart forever.

  FROM BENEATH HALF-CLOSED LIDS, CULLEN WATCHED Sydney as she lost herself in her work. The sun bathed her in a halo of light, turning the ends of her hair to burnished flame. She was slender as a willow, her head tilted at an angle as she studied the scene before her. There was an ease, an unhurried rhythm to her movements that fascinated him as she sought to capture the flow of the river, the shimmering rock, and the trees that lined the shore.

  She was born to paint. It was obvious in the dreamy smile that played on her lips, the joy that danced in her eyes. This was no weekend artist, hoping to take home a memento of her trip to a new land. This was a woman whose entire being was focused on capturing the scene before her.

  Though he could hardly wait to see the finished product, he forced himself to remain where he was, pretending to sleep. A gifted artist like Sydney needed her own space, her own time, to fulfill her creation.

  He thought about the strange twists and turns his life had taken. His trip to America had been a spontaneous decision, spurred by the urging of his friends. But he hadn’t realized how much he needed to get away until he’d been gone for over a week, and found himself hiking trails that challenged him as nothing had before.

  He’d needed that. Not only the challeng
e, but the time spent in the wilderness, clearing his mind of all but the essentials. He felt he was returning home with a clear sense of purpose.

  And then he’d met Sydney. Sweet, innocent, generous Sydney.

  He was a firm believer that there were no accidents in life.

  His lips split into a warm smile as he drifted on a cloud of contentment.

  SYDNEY SET ASIDE HER BRUSHES AND STRETCHED HER ARMS over her head.

  The motion had Cullen sitting up abruptly.

  She turned to him. “Sorry. I woke you.”

  “I had a lovely nap. Have you finished?”

  “Yes. Would you like to see?”

  He stood and walked close, studying the painting with a critical eye.

  “You’ve captured it perfectly.”

  For someone like Sydney, who had spent a lifetime being criticized for her attempts to emulate her father’s craft, Cullen’s words wrapped around her heart like a warm hug. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. While you clean your brushes, I’ll prepare our picnic.”

  From the hamper Cullen removed a blanket, which he spread beneath the tree.

  While he worked, Sydney kicked off her shoes and sat on the bank of the river while she cleaned her brushes, and then her hands.

  As soon as her fingers touched the water, it began to ripple and shift, as though a boat had passed by. She looked up, but there was nothing and no one around. Still, the water rolled and tumbled on shore, directed by some unseen source.

  Sydney watched as the images that had been reflected in the river changed. Instead of the trees, the bridge, and Slipper Rock, the reflection became a blue sky and clouds that shifted and changed until they resembled old-fashioned robe-clad figures that reminded Sydney of characters from her childhood stories about kings and queens, knights and maidens.

  She looked across the river, expecting to see the town and the church, with its steeple. What she saw was a lovely castle shimmering in the sunlight.

  “Cullen.”

  Hearing the urgency in her voice he hurried over. “Something wrong?”

  “No. I just want to know the name of that castle.”

  She pointed to the hill.

  Cullen gave her a gentle smile. “I see it’s true what they say about an artist’s imagination.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t see the . . . ?” She blinked and looked again, only to see nothing but the church and the town.

  “Come on.” Laughing, Cullen caught her hand. “Your picnic awaits you, m’lady.”

  She joined in the laughter and allowed him to lead her to the shade.

  When she dropped down on the blanket, he handed her a stem glass.

  “Champagne?” Her laughter faded. “Is this a special occasion?”

  “It is. Didn’t I tell you?” He touched his glass to hers. “Just being with you has made this day special, Sydney.”

  As she sipped the bubbly champagne, she felt her heart do a little hitch. Though his words were spoken lightly enough, she’d seen something in his eyes. Something smoldering that had her blood heating, and her pulse racing.

  Even though he’d given her no reason to think otherwise, she had the most overwhelming sensation that this was about to become, indeed, a very special day for both of them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sydney sipped the champagne, loving the feel of it, like bubbly liquid silver on her tongue.

  Seeing the dreamy smile on her lips, Cullen paused. “You’ve had champagne before, haven’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Once, on my twenty-first birthday. But I don’t remember it being this smooth.” She stifled a laugh. “Or this fizzy.”

  Cullen uncovered a plate of tender chicken, and another of freshly baked croissants.

  Sydney’s eyes widened. “I think I see the handiwork of Mrs. Kelly’s bake shop.”

  “Busted. I guess I won’t try to take credit for any of this.” He shot her a wicked grin. “I told her I wanted to impress a very special person, and she promised to take care of everything.”

  A very special person.

  At his words, Sydney felt her heart do a little dance. Had that been a slip of the tongue? Was he aware of what he’d revealed?

  She held the words close to her heart. Cullen thought she was a very special person.

  Cullen lifted yet another lid. “Let’s just see what else she made for us.”

  Sydney gave a laugh of delight. “Surprise. Barmbrack.”

  “I’d have been very disappointed if she hadn’t tucked a few slices of it in the basket.” He opened a covered container and held up two perfect peaches. “I suppose these are here to make us feel healthy.”

  “This is an absolute feast.” Sydney dug into her chicken and sighed with pleasure as she buttered a croissant.

  Beside her, Cullen enjoyed the meal before sitting back, sipping champagne, and nibbling his favorite treat. “I’m so glad I had this chance to show you some of my town.”

  Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses, and Sydney’s heart took a quick, hard bounce at the look in Cullen’s eyes.

  “I’m glad, too. I can’t think of a better tour guide.”

  “The tour’s not over yet. Have you had enough food?”

  At her nod, he gathered up the remains of their picnic and returned it to the hamper. Setting it at the base of the tree, he caught her hand. As she got to her feet, a man stepped from the woods, leading two horses.

  “Just in time, Patrick.” Cullen hurried forward and exchanged a few words with the man before accepting the reins of the two horses and leading them toward Sydney.

  He indicated a white mare with streaming mane and tale, bearing a fancy saddle trimmed in silver and gold braid. “This is Princess.”

  Sydney reached up to rub the mare’s forelock. “She looks like a princess.”

  “And has the regal bearing of one, as well. I hope you can ride.”

  “I grew up in the country. Margot used to refer to my father as a gentleman farmer.”

  “My kind of man.” Cullen offered his hand and Sydney easily pulled herself into the saddle.

  Beside her, Cullen mounted a roan stallion. “And this is Prince.”

  “I should have known. He looks every bit a prince.”

  Cullen leaned over and caught Sydney’s hand. “I thought you’d enjoy seeing parts of my village that most tourists never get to see. The terrain is rough, but the horses are surefooted, and I promise you, the view is worth the effort. Are you game?”

  She squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Cullen wheeled his mount and Sydney did the same. With Prince leading the way, Princess easily followed as they disappeared into the cool darkness of the woods.

  As she followed along, Sydney had a sudden memory of her favorite childhood dream. She was a princess, riding a white steed beside her prince in their magical kingdom. Though she knew it was just a fantasy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this day had become more than special. It was, in fact, a magical day.

  The trail climbed up and up until at last the hills leveled off and the dense wall of trees thinned, giving way to a spectacular view of the land far below.

  They dismounted, and Cullen tethered the horses to a small sapling before leading her to a flat, rocky promontory overlooking the valley.

  Sydney’s voice was hushed, as though in a sacred place. “Look at the waterfall below. And see the way the sunlight sparkles on Slipper Rock. It looks as though it’s made of glass. Oh, and there.” She pointed. “Your village looks like a beautiful miniature under a Christmas tree.” She touched a hand to his sleeve. “Oh, Cullen, what a wonderful place. It’s all so lovely, it takes my breath away.”

  Cullen closed a hand over hers and turned to look directly into her eyes. “It isn’t the only thing that takes my breath away.”

  When she started to draw back he lifted his hand to her cheek.
Just a touch, but she couldn’t move. Could hardly dare to breathe, as he lowered his face to hers and covered her mouth with his.

  This kiss wasn’t at all like the first time. The heat, the fire, was instantaneous and so all-consuming it had them both trembling with need.

  The hands at her shoulders were strong as she was drawn against a solid chest. The mouth moving on hers was warm and seductive, making it impossible for her to resist. Not that she thought about resisting. From the moment Cullen touched her, she found herself wanting more.

  With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave herself up to the pure pleasure of his touch.

  He framed her face with his big hands and pressed soft, moist kisses over her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. When he moved lower to her throat, she nearly purred with pleasure.

  “Sydney.” His fingers tangled in her hair and he drew her face up while he stared down into her eyes. “What am I going to do about you?”

  She smiled. “You make me sound like a problem to be solved.”

  He lowered his hands to her shoulders, holding her a little away. With a puzzled frown he muttered, “Or an unexpected treasure to be cherished.”

  She reached a finger to the frown line on his forehead. “I don’t think a treasure would bring a look like this.”

  “That’s just it. You are a treasure. One that deserves only the best.” He surprised her by tugging on her hand. “Come on.”

  “What about the horses?”

  “Patrick will return them to their stable. I want you to see my secret place.”

  A secret place. Sydney was so excited by his words she found herself speechless.

  Without a word, she allowed herself to be led deep into the woods.

  He led her along a steeply curving trail through low-hanging branches of flowering trees and across a field of waist-high wildflowers until they stepped out into a meadow lush with grass. Far below was the river Glass, and shining like a clear-crystal sculpture was Slipper Rock. All were bathed in the most amazing light.

  Sydney caught her breath. “Oh, Cullen. This is an artist’s paradise. I have to come back here one day with my supplies and paint that scene.”