A River of Orange

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

"You are the son of a scoundrel,” Rule spat. “Who charms every woman you set your eyes on, old or young."

  "At least I am not afraid to speak to them, as you are to the one beyond that door,” Ibrehem teased.

  Rule laughed sardonically. “I assure you my friend, I am not afraid."

  Ibrehem arched a brow. “Nay?” He stood and made his way toward Rule. “Then why have you lingered this long?"

  Rule's features hardened. “Because I am made to deal with the foolish antics of this old woman,” he said, motioning toward Wysteria.

  "You are going around in circles, my lord.” Ibrehem grinned. “And stalling for time."

  "She's just a slip of a girl,” Wysteria commented. “Nothing to fear."

  Rule glowered at her. “I fear nothing."

  "Then go,” challenged Ibrehem. “The fair maiden waits."

  Rule straightened his shoulders and made his way to the back door. “I fear nothing,” he mumbled to himself and turned the knob.

  Chapter Three

  Meav watched the sunset cast a veil over the day. The fiery, red ball set low in the sky and lit the horizon as she had never seen before. Then again, this island held colors and smells, and strange sights that Meav was sure she would only encounter in a dream. Yet it was all real, she had pinched herself several times and could clearly vouch for the fact that she was awake. But all of it was so incredible; from a river of orange, to the mermaid that sunned herself upon a rock, to the naked pixies that fluttered about the cottage.

  Meav, lifted her waist length, copper curls from her neck, allowing the gentle breeze to brush across her nape. She stretched and swayed with the breeze, dancing around in tiny circles, feeling relaxed and free.

  * * * *

  Rule walked onto the cobblestone terrace quietly, enchanted with the scene before him. He watched the beautiful female at one with the nature that surrounded her. Rule did not know when he had viewed such a magnificent sight.

  He watched as she inhaled the magnolia scented air. “Ah me, ‘tis all so magnificent,” she said aloud to herself.

  "Aye, indeed ‘tis,” Rule's voice cracked. Why was he suddenly unable to speak correctly?

  Meav quickly spun around to find a man—a large man—standing behind her. The muslin tunic he wore did little to conceal the muscles bulging beneath. His jet, black hair, shiny and thick, fell to his powerful set of shoulders. His bronzed flesh pulled taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones and complimented the amber eyes that now surveyed her quite intensely. Meav was momentarily rendered speechless. Nervously, she licked her dry lips. She was at a loss for words and became acutely conscious of his athletic physique, and the way his dark, brown breeches hugged his muscular thighs. She cleared her throat, and her wandering thoughts, quickly realizing she couldn't remain here just standing like a mute and staring. Her grandmamma had taught her better manners then this.

  "And who might you be, sir?” she said in a shaky voice.

  Rule moved closer, his eyes roaming the length of her. She was enthralling in the dress she wore. The light fabric clung to every shapely curve of her body. He moved to the stone wall and set a foot upon it, pleased by the way the neckline of the dress dipped just low enough to reveal the tops of her full breasts. He wanted to trace the valley of her cleavage with his tongue.

  "I am Rule Thornton,” he said. “I am the—” he almost announced to her that he was the king, but that would only be half true. “I am the protector, keeper and lord of the jungle,” he admitted instead.

  She walked toward him and extended her hand. “Me name is Meav O'Shay."

  Rule almost reached out to take her tiny hand, lift it to his lips and bestow a kiss. But instead he stepped back, contributing his desire to the fact she must have bewitched him. That thought irked him. Hadn't he been tricked enough by a woman's magic? Quickly he moved to the other side of the terrace.

  Meav felt a blush shadow over her cheeks as she was left with her hand in mid-air. Never had she felt so humiliated. All she wanted now was to distance herself from the handsome brute. She made her way to a bench at the far end of the cobblestone and sat down.

  Rule cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. His tone was gruff. “Wysteria tells me you come from Dublin, Ireland."

  "Aye, Dublin is me home ... was me home,” she corrected, her heart filling with sadness for the family she lost.

  "And where might Ireland be, lass?"

  "Far, far from here, milord.” She looked deep into the tawny color of his eyes, familiar to her ... but how could that be? “I know not where ‘tis, in accordance to this island, only that I traveled many days aboard that dank ship before it crashed upon your shores."

  Rule searched her exquisite and dainty features; her complexion was an illusive pink. If he did not keep himself from floating on the softness of her voice, he would never be able to conduct this interrogation properly. “And what were you doing on the ship, lass?"

  "Escaping,” Meav answered.

  The sudden sadness that clouded her blue eyes disturbed him. He softened his tone. “Escaping from what?"

  "Hollister McGreary,” she said softly.

  He moved closer to the bench. A disquieting chill ran down Rule's spine. Why was he suddenly feeling protective of her? “Tell me why you needed to leave your home, lass. And who is Hollister McGreary?"

  Hatred glowered in Meav's eyes. “He is the rogue who proposed marriage to me, milord. When I refused, he had me home and land scorched and me family killed."

  Rule's shock yielded quickly to fury. Had he the chance to meet this Hollister McGreary he would strip him of his clothing, and have him tarred, feathered, and quartered.

  Meav swallowed the tears burning her throat. “A dear friend's husband helped me board the Sea Dragon and to hide below without being noticed.” She cast her gaze to the hands she held clenched in her lap. “For several days I lay on the damp floor of the hull, hungry and cold.” Meav shivered now with the memory of the rats and mice scampering over her feet, the foul odor, and the fear of being caught by the British sailors. “Then the mermaid's song lured the vessel, and it crashed.” She sighed heavily. “I am the only survivor."

  Rule wanted to place his hand over the two small ones she held so tightly clasped together; give them a reassuring squeeze. Just the thought sent a stimulating sensation coursing through him. But instead all he could do was look down at her. “You are safe now."

  Quickly she raised her eyes to lock with his. They were compelling, drawing her in. Her heartbeat quickened; again she felt she had seen those eyes before, but surely that could not be ... she had just met him.

  "I give you my word, Meav O'Shay, that I will allow no one to hurt you."

  The sound of his deep voice saying her name suddenly made Meav believe his words. Just having him near elicited a feeling of being safe, though his manners could use some improvement.

  "I believe you, milord,” she whispered ... and she did.

  * * * *

  After Wysteria had sent Ibrehem off to Tobiah's home with a pot of possum stew, Raika paid her a visit.

  The Elwin woman entered the cottage smiling from ear to ear. “It has happened, dear healer. My dear daughter Aliki has given birth to a beautiful woman child. We are calling her Saje."

  Wysteria clapped her hands together in delight. “I am so pleased for your family. And Aliki had no trouble during the birthing?"

  Raika shook her head. “Not anymore than most."

  "Then she is blessed and will have many years mothering the babe in good health."

  Raika smile broadened. “Aye; this I believe as well ... but a blessing from you, dear healer now is in order."

  Wysteria nodded. “I will come on the morrow, as of this moment I wait to see how the meeting of Rule and Meav turns out."

  Raika frowned. “Meav?"

  "Aye, the young maiden you and Twila helped to bathe."

  Raika's eyes brightened. “Aye, I remember.” She folded her
small arms across her ample bosom. “So, she is called Meav?"

  "Aye, Meav O'Shay from Dublin, Ireland ... and I have no idea where Ireland sets in this vast universe,” Wysteria added.

  Raika walked over to the kettle and helped herself to a cup of tea. “Perhaps Merrow would know. I shall ask him when I return to the glen.” She placed the cup on the table and hoisted herself upon a chair. “And where is the maiden now?"

  "Out in the garden with Rule. ‘Tis their first meeting ... eye to eye. I am hoping all goes well."

  Raika slipped off the chair and crept to the window, staying hidden behind a shutter. She peered out at Rule and Meav in the garden.

  Wysteria followed on tiptoe. For a moment she was captivated by the beautiful sunset. “Ah, look Raika at the setting sun. The heavenly display reminds me of just such a night, many years ago."

  Raika turned to Wysteria. “I remember how in love with Morgan you were."

  The sound of his name filled Wysteria with warmth. She looked down at her friend. “I still am,” she softly admitted. “Though he has gone from this earth he will never leave my heart."

  Raika smiled and cast her gaze back out the window. “Look, Meav has extended her hand to Rule. ‘Twould have been a perfect opportunity for him to bestow a kiss."

  Wysteria smiled. “I remember the times Morgan kissed my hand. I felt so cherished, so beautiful."

  "Ah, youth, young notions and love,” Raika muttered.

  "Where has my youth gone, Raika? It seemed to slip by so quickly. One day I had hair of gold flying behind me in the wind, and the next strands of gray falling in my eyes."

  Raika nodded slowly. “I remember those days as well. Now we are both old crones."

  "A crone was not what I sought to be, certainly not what I had hoped to become,” Wysteria said.

  Raika turned her attention again to Wysteria. “But the crone stage of life has definite benefits. It has given you the opportunity to help those around you. Now, others seek your wisdom. Truly, you have a sense of just being yourself, able to express what you know and feel. ‘Tis the crowning inner achievement of the third stage of your life."

  "'Tis true, Raika. I am finally able to take action when need be ... like now, with the task I have ahead of me to save Keronia and those that dwell on the isle."

  "And what is your plan of action?” Raika said softly.

  "First, I must swallow the urge to whine over all I have to do. Whining is an attitude that will only block spiritual growth; squelch the positive light that will make me wise and strong and effective in accomplishing what I must.” Wysteria placed a hand on her forehead. “Then, I must take the time to be still enough to listen to the quiet of my own mind and spirit; pay attention to all I perceive, to my instincts and intuitions ... then act upon them."

  "'Tis wise of you, dear healer."

  "Oh ... but what an undertaking there is ahead of me, Raika. The Prophecy clearly states both Rule and Meav need to come by love through their own accord."

  Raika frowned. “And you do not think that can happen?"

  Wysteria groaned. “Nay ... look how he acts. He has positioned himself opposite her."

  Raika looked back out the window. She frowned. “He is walking away from her."

  "None of this will be possible unless that buffoon opens his heart, begins to trust her,” Wysteria whispered, feeling negatives nagging her within. She instantly set her mind to stifling them, knowing full well she would not be able to live in the present or be good company to anyone, especially herself, if she gave in to them. “Nay, there is no time for negatives,” she said aloud.

  "That is so true, dear healer ... nor is there time for worries ... ‘tis a time only for nurturing the young maiden, fostering her growth. She needs you to teach her of the powers she is gifted with. You must be her mentor, protect the girl's vulnerability, and help her to bloom into the warrior the Prophecy has destined for her life."

  Wysteria gave Raika a gentle pat on the shoulder. “'Tis fortunate my skills have improved with much practice. Now I draw patience in knowing there is a season for all things. I have learned many things from my experiences."

  "Then you must apply those past lessons to present choices and situations.” Raika left the window as silently as she had come and returned to her seat by the table. Slowly she sipped her tea. “I trust you will do what is needed of you."

  "I appreciate that, Raika.” Wysteria walked to the fireplace, becoming mesmerized by the flames. For a moment she watched them dance before her, than she fixed herself a cup of herbal tea and joined Raika at the table.

  Taking a moment to sit and sip the brew, Wysteria contemplated the task before her to alter the present situation. Slowly she organized her thoughts, as she savored the mint flavor of the tea.

  "What are you thinking, Wysteria?"

  "That I must remain strong, clear my mind and renew my spirit."

  Raika leaned forward in her seat. “Why not bring Meav to the blessing ceremony tomorrow? Perhaps after you could take her to the river and perform the ritual bath."

  Wysteria nodded in agreement. “Aye, I think she would enjoy the blessing ceremony, and after would be a good time for her own cleansing."

  "Then what?"

  Wysteria thought for a moment. “I think ‘tis best I not work the problem through Rule, but through Meav. I will teach her how to use her gifts, slowly at first, not to frighten her, and make her aware of what she was sent here to do."

  "Not through the angle of the angry young man ... but instead through the soft, beautiful maiden,” Raika plotted. “I can see that working well.” She took another sip of the warm brew.

  "And I will stay steadfast in my decisions,” Wysteria said, taking a sip of her own tea. “I cannot let Rule interfere, or find cause to manipulate me."

  "As he so often did as a lad in your care,” Raika reminded her.

  Wysteria set the cup down on the table, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I expect there will come some ugly moments, Raika."

  Raika frowned. “Like what?"

  "Fear, misunderstanding,” Wysteria replied, contemplating her words before she spoke further. “But from the agony comes experience and a means to learn. I see forgiveness, humility and courage being a part of the healing path as well."

  "And what of love?” Raika whispered.

  "Ah, love,” Wysteria reflected. “Without love none of the struggles and hardships of life would be bearable, Raika. ‘Tis a given love must be at the heart of the solution, I just need to find a way to help the cause. Meav and Rule need to discover each other of their own accord."

  Raika nodded in agreement. “As well as the plan the universe has mapped out for them."

  Wysteria sighed. “Aye, Raika, we cannot forget the plan."

  * * * *

  Ibrehem walked carefully up the path to Tobiah's house; not wanting to spill the possum stew Wysteria had sent for the old soldier and his daughter, Zailia.

  Ibrehem smiled when he thought of Zailia; hair of gold, eyes round and dark beneath hooded lashes. And though she filled his thoughts with sweet incantations, Ibrehem's heart also went out to the young woman, admiring her courage and tenacity. Zailia was devoted to the care of her father, and served Queen Devora in order to save the land that had been in her father's family for generations.

  Ibrehem had offered many times to lighten her load by paying the taxes on the property with what he had managed to save. He worried for Zailia's safety and did not want her subjected to the queen's evil ways. He wanted Zailia as far away from the witch as possible.

  But Zailia's pride would have none of what Ibrehem had offered. She refused his generosity time and time again with her chin raised defiantly, shoulders squared. Ibrehem had to stifle a smile, finding her most charming when she stood up to him. It took all he could do to keep from sweeping her into his arms and smothering her luscious lips with kisses. If he ever appeased the impulse, there was no doubt it would gain him a hard slap ac
ross his face.

  Zailia was a feisty one and Ibrehem knew she was determined to take care of her own affairs. She did not want his pity and believed she could handle the care of her sick, aging father, and still work the demanding schedule at the castle. Truth be told, Zailia looked tired and worn and Ibrehem was concerned.

  Why was it so hard for this beautiful woman to believe he did not pity her, but instead wanted to help her ... because he cared for her? Then there was the honor he held for Tobiah, who had been like a father to him. Through Tobiah's skill Ibrehem had learned how to survive in the wilds and to master the fight. Now it was Ibrehem's turn to repay his mentor for all he had done for him and to protect and love his daughter.

  * * * *

  Zailia was washing the dinner plates in a pan of soapy water when she heard the knock. Wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist, she made her way to the door and opened it wide. There stood Ibrehem Chancelor holding a large pot. The warrior was strong and handsome ... dark eyes framing a face bronzed by the wind and sun; dark hair tapering neatly to his collar.

  Ibrehem smiled warmly. “Vedela."

  Zailia returned his smile. “Greetings to you as well.” She looked down at the pot he held. “And have you left your post in the military to be a peddler?"

  Ibrehem held out the container and made a comical face at her teasing remark. “Nay, I bring you a meal sent by Wysteria."

  Zailia beckoned him in and took the food. “Ah, the good and loving healer is always looking out for me and father.” She placed the pot on the hook over the fire. “I have not been to see her in over a week. How does she fair?"

  Ibrehem closed the door behind him. “Quite well, I would say. She is kept busy by a house guest at the moment."

  Zailia removed a cloth from the raisin bread she had just baked and cut off a large piece. Placing the bread on a plate, she set it down on the table and motioned for Ibrehem to take a seat. “Whom has she taken in this time?"

  Ibrehem quickly went to the table. “A young woman that washed up on shore after her ship had been wrecked.” He nodded thankfully as he took a bite of the bread.