Read Online SECRETS OF THE WIND by Charlotte Boyett-Compo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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looking for something to give her as a peace offering. Neither did she know that such presents were never given by Ruan Cosaint, except to his mother or sisters. When she opened the tissue paper and discovered the lovely woolen shawl fashioned in an intricate Gaelachuan pattern of knots, her face brightened and she looked up at him.
“It is lovely!” she proclaimed.
“Not as lovely as the woman who will be wearing it,” he said in a soft voice.
Chas draped the ivory shawl with its pale rose knot work around her shoulders then took the arm Ruan offered. She walked with him to the wide Francach doors and then out into the cool mist of the evening.
They did not speak as they walked through the sweet-scented garden. His free hand covered hers and she did not think he realized he was caressing her fingers. Overhead, the moon was full and heavy with a golden hue that softly lit the cobblestone pathway between the flowerbeds. When they reached the end of the cobblestones, they were standing at a wrought iron gate beyond which the waves of the Northern Sea crashed delicately against moonlit cliffs. She unhooked her arms from his and reached out to curl her fingers around the coolness of the wrought iron.
“I have never been this far north,” she said.
He stood behind her, his body lightly touching hers. “I trained near here,” he told her. “I’ve not been back since, but always thought I’d like to have a summer place in this county.”
The heat from his body was intoxicating and she leaned back against him, closing her eyes as he put his hands to either side of hers, enclosing her so that she was pressed between his solid body and the wrought iron sea gate.
“Do you mean your training with the Order of Taibhse?” she asked.
“Aye. It was similar, I think, to your training.”
Chas tensed. “My training?” she said.
He put his chin on her shoulder. “Think you I am not privy to the doings of my mother and her band of merry councilors?” he asked. He slid his hands over her arms and drew her closer to him. “I make it my business to know what that interfering old biddy is up to.”
She tried to turn around but his hold tightened. “If you’ve known all along what I am…”
“I only found out this afternoon when I returned from the market,” he said and she detected a note of coldness in his tone. “It took my spies that long to glean the information.”
She wanted to face him, to see his eyes as he spoke. Even in the bright moonlight, she thought she could garner his feelings if she could but look into his face.
“So how much are you willing to do, little Riezell Guardian, to fulfill your contract to my mother and her pesky court of jesters?”
There was no mistaking the coldness now. His voice had turned hard and brittle, and there was rigidity to his embrace that suggested he had put some distance between them, though his body was still pressed close to hers.
“There have been attempts on your life and the queen thought…”
“She knows damned well I can look after myself!” he said, releasing her and stepping back.
When Chas turned, he was standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his britches—a defensive posture. He was not looking at her, but rather at the moonlight-laced surface of the sea.
“Is it that your mother thinks you need more protection or that it was a woman she chose to provide that protection?” Chas asked.
He turned his head and speared her with a hard look that sent a shiver down her spine. “My mother has been trying to foist this woman and that woman off on me since I gained my majority. The plethora of idjuts she’s offered would fill a good-size mental institution. I told her I would choose my own wife, but does she listen?”
“And you are furious that she chose me to offer to you?” she said, hurt niggling at her heart.
“Oh, you’ll suit me well enough,” he said, turning away from her again. “With your training, you won’t
“It is lovely!” she proclaimed.
“Not as lovely as the woman who will be wearing it,” he said in a soft voice.
Chas draped the ivory shawl with its pale rose knot work around her shoulders then took the arm Ruan offered. She walked with him to the wide Francach doors and then out into the cool mist of the evening.
They did not speak as they walked through the sweet-scented garden. His free hand covered hers and she did not think he realized he was caressing her fingers. Overhead, the moon was full and heavy with a golden hue that softly lit the cobblestone pathway between the flowerbeds. When they reached the end of the cobblestones, they were standing at a wrought iron gate beyond which the waves of the Northern Sea crashed delicately against moonlit cliffs. She unhooked her arms from his and reached out to curl her fingers around the coolness of the wrought iron.
“I have never been this far north,” she said.
He stood behind her, his body lightly touching hers. “I trained near here,” he told her. “I’ve not been back since, but always thought I’d like to have a summer place in this county.”
The heat from his body was intoxicating and she leaned back against him, closing her eyes as he put his hands to either side of hers, enclosing her so that she was pressed between his solid body and the wrought iron sea gate.
“Do you mean your training with the Order of Taibhse?” she asked.
“Aye. It was similar, I think, to your training.”
Chas tensed. “My training?” she said.
He put his chin on her shoulder. “Think you I am not privy to the doings of my mother and her band of merry councilors?” he asked. He slid his hands over her arms and drew her closer to him. “I make it my business to know what that interfering old biddy is up to.”
She tried to turn around but his hold tightened. “If you’ve known all along what I am…”
“I only found out this afternoon when I returned from the market,” he said and she detected a note of coldness in his tone. “It took my spies that long to glean the information.”
She wanted to face him, to see his eyes as he spoke. Even in the bright moonlight, she thought she could garner his feelings if she could but look into his face.
“So how much are you willing to do, little Riezell Guardian, to fulfill your contract to my mother and her pesky court of jesters?”
There was no mistaking the coldness now. His voice had turned hard and brittle, and there was rigidity to his embrace that suggested he had put some distance between them, though his body was still pressed close to hers.
“There have been attempts on your life and the queen thought…”
“She knows damned well I can look after myself!” he said, releasing her and stepping back.
When Chas turned, he was standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his britches—a defensive posture. He was not looking at her, but rather at the moonlight-laced surface of the sea.
“Is it that your mother thinks you need more protection or that it was a woman she chose to provide that protection?” Chas asked.
He turned his head and speared her with a hard look that sent a shiver down her spine. “My mother has been trying to foist this woman and that woman off on me since I gained my majority. The plethora of idjuts she’s offered would fill a good-size mental institution. I told her I would choose my own wife, but does she listen?”
“And you are furious that she chose me to offer to you?” she said, hurt niggling at her heart.
“Oh, you’ll suit me well enough,” he said, turning away from her again. “With your training, you won’t
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