Jacqueline Navin - The Flower And The Sword

As Catherine turned to leave, Lily crossed her eyes and curled her top lip in an exaggerated sneer, causing Elspeth to clamp a hand over her mouth in order to stifle a gasp.

“And don’t think I do not know you are making faces at me,” Catherine called as she disappeared down the hall.

Collapsing onto her bed, Lily flung her head back. “Lord, she is a trial!”

Elspeth looked warily at the door, as if fearful Catherine would reappear. When she did not, she came to Lily’s side and took her sister’s hand.

“She frightens me.”

Lily turned her head and looked lovingly at the child. “You must not let her, Elspeth.”

Elspeth was still doubtful. “She has such a terrible temper. I fear what she will do now. Catherine hates to be thwarted.” Her gaze darted to the door and she swallowed convulsively. “Remember our rabbits?”

Lily covered her sister’s hand, not able to stifle a shudder herself. When they were children, they had each been given a rabbit for a pet for the feast of Christ’s Mass. Catherine’s had fallen ill and died within days. She had been furious, claiming it was unfair. The next day, the other two rabbits were found dead in their pens.

“Do not think on that,” Lily soothed. “It was never proved that she killed those poor creatures. It could have been anyone. And even if she did do such a thing, she must certainly regret it. She has done nothing else to threaten a soul.”

“Except the servants,” Elspeth shivered. “Dory told me she came upon her talking to Kenneth in the kitchens, and went into a terrible fit of temper.”

Lily cut her off with a calm, steady voice. “Catherine can be harsh, it is true, but there is a difference between anger and harm.”

The denial sounded hollow in her own ears and Elspeth seemed less than convinced. Lily added, “Father will insure all is well.”

“With the aid of our Lord,” Elspeth murmured.

Lily stretched the tension from her muscles. “Of course. I am going for a walk. The night is cool, and I need some air.”

“You cannot! Catherine would be furious.”

“She will not know,” Lily said as she scampered off the bed and flew to the door. “And besides, I refuse to be intimidated by her silly commands. Good night, sweet sister.”

“Lily!” Elspeth whispered urgently, but she was already gone.

“I wish we were camping outside with the rest of the men instead of in this wretched place,” Andrew complained. “I keep expecting Marshand to appear at any moment, screeching his pent-up fury and wielding an ax aimed for our heads!”

Rogan shrugged in studied nonchalance. “No sense sleeping out in the heat when we can enjoy the cool solace of the castle.”

“‘Cool solace’ my arse, you have got your eye on the girl! The little flower, Lily. I saw you staring during supper.”

Rogan looked back blankly. “The girl? Could you mean the very one you tried so hard to charm?”

“I was not trying to seduce her, damn it all. I was trying to be congenial.”

“Admit it, you were enjoying it.”

“Naturally. She is a lovely girl. Enchanting, actually. Are you going to deny that you would have traded places with me?”

A dark look came over Rogan’s handsome features. “I had duty to think of.”

“Is it always duty with you, Rogan?”

Rogan didn’t answer. A pensive silence fell.

“You were successful, I take it,” Andrew said after a space.

“Hmm?”

“I was referring to Catherine. You won her over. I thought by the end of the evening she was going to positively devour you.”

“Aye,” Rogan said with a hint of disgust, “she does have the look of a predator.”

“She terrifies me, I am not ashamed to say. Her beauty is cold. And her eyes…they burn cold. Had you not noticed? Positively chilling. The sooner we are away, the better.”

Rogan rubbed the back of his neck. “There are things to be settled here first.”

“You mean the girl.”

“What girl?”

“Lily, of course. Don’t be so dense.”

Rogan lifted a casual brow. “She seemed pleasant enough. I admit that she did not escape my notice. But you can hardly think that I would be so foolish as to allow a distraction such as her.”

“Why not? Do you never think of what you want? Family obligation can be taken too seriously, you know.”

“Calm yourself, Andrew. You will age before your time,” Rogan said lightly. “It is hardly my habit to sniff around after virgins.”

“You could not keep from staring at her all during dinner.”

“Good God, brother, I am a man, and not a blind one at that. And I am not constrained to chastity as you are. I was merely appreciating the lass, for as I told you, she impressed me favorably.” Rogan sighed. “Yes, it is true. She is tempting.”

“And tempted. You were all she wanted to talk about.” Andrew was not dissuaded by Rogan’s impatient wave of his hand. “And not a half hour ago I saw her duck into the gardens. No doubt she walks among the scented roses—” Andrew’s voice lifted in an overly dramatic way reminiscent of a bard “—dreaming of true love.”

“She’d make a fine companion for Alex,” Rogan muttered. Then he raised his head. “In the garden, you say? How long ago?”

“Not even an hour.”

Rogan stared at his brother for a long time. Then he stood up and stretched. “I fancy myself a stroll in the garden. I have always enjoyed the outdoors just before retiring.” He hesitated, not sure in which direction the gardens lay.

He looked expectantly at Andrew, who held up a pointed finger. “That way,” he said.

The orchard was cool, washed in the light of a generous moon. Lily breathed in heavily of the scented air. A soft breeze stirred the branches into a crisp chorus of whispers, and the sound soothed her.

She slipped off her shoes and hiked up her skirt, then sat on the edge of the wading pool and dangled her feet into the water. Speculatively she studied the night-shrouded statue in its center. Hermes. Muscular and poised, with winged sandals and crown, he who was the messenger of the pagan gods reigned over the starless night. As a girl, Lily used to stare dreamily at the figure, making up stories in her head with him as her hero, rescuing her as he had Perseus, Odysseus and Aries but with a more romantic turn. Yet tonight, the displaced idol was only carved stone. Another stole her thoughts.

She kicked a bit to feel the water swirl around her bare legs. The pool water felt like a wonderful caress, cold against her skin yet somehow sensuous. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. A wisp of a smile curved her lips. Just thinking of Rogan St. Cyr set her to trembling inside. A small part of her cautioned—nagging in a voice suspiciously like Catherine’s—that she should stop this foolishness at once. But it felt too wonderful, and besides, she didn’t want to.

As if conjured by her thoughts, a voice, very close, said softly in her ear, “Good eve, demoiselle.”

Without thinking, she jerked upright, her feet hitting the slick bottom of the shallow pool. Immediately, she felt them sliding out from under her, and just as she was about to fall, a strong arm encircled her, pulling her back up against a solid chest

“My lady,” the rich voice rumbled, “take care.”

Lily caught a breath of his scent, musky and clean and completely masculine. Snapping her head around, she found herself staring up into his face, only inches from her own. His eyes, a curious shade of gray, looked down at her with a mixture of humor and concern. “Shall I help you?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered, remembering herself. She pulled herself aright, slipped again, and in the end had to cling to him as she stepped out of the pool. Her gown was drenched from the knees down, making it a cumbersome weight. Standing there, soaked and embarrassed, at a terrible loss as to how to redeem herself, Lily felt perilously close to tears. “If you will excuse me,” she said, making to brush past him to enter the castle. She was prevented from a graceful exit by the noisy flapping of her wet skirts. After stumbling clumsily for a few steps, she paused. Oh, Lord, she groaned silently, I must look the utter fool.