Page 178 of The Daughters of Avalon
And by the by, it didn’t help matters overmuch that she’d felt the need to enlighten him about the mushroom. Of course, he didn’t eat any, but he needn’t eat a bad mushroom to suffer the ill effects she was warning him about, and it was as though somehow she knew… as her sister seemed to know so much. Thesedewinesisters were canny in a way that gave Wilhelm pause. In fact, he wasn’t even all that tempted by the cony he intended to cook. He knew the boy would be famished, and he wanted Seren to have her choice of sustenance, but, for his part, he would have been content enough with thepanin his saddlebag, and little of that besides.
He frowned. To be sure, they had this much in common: He couldn’t start a fire to save his life. Cursing beneath his breath, frustrated by his lack of skill, he struck the fire-steel half a dozenmore times, until finally, a spark ignited. Very quickly, he settled the flame over the thin, dry end of a twig and was immensely relieved when the flame took, spreading swiftly over the brittle stick.
Watching him intently on the other side of the fire, Seren sank to her bottom, no doubt trying to think of more words to speak, although it seemed to him that perhaps she thought better of it, because she said nothing more. She was still holding a small bit of mushroom.
“Eat,” he demanded. “Then rest. We won’t be here long.”
“How long?”
“Not long,” he said curtly, and Seren huffed a sigh of frustration, the flames bending against her breath—in much the same way he longed to bend as well.
God’s truth, he bloody well didn’t like the way he felt—or maybe he did—but never in his life had he felt so much like a poppet. If only she would smile at him one more time, as she had when he’d revealed the mushrooms, he would prostrate himself at her feet. If there was aught of witchery at play this morning, it was her smile. She was irresistible and yet, he must resist, for this was no time for foolery and flirtation.
What in God’s name was he thinking?
Hadn’t he learned his lessons already? Loving a lady who could not love him back? What a halfwit he must be.
Seren Pendragon is not meant for the likes of you.
“Why are you so ill-tempered?”
He flicked her a glance, his cheeks warming to his chagrin.Because I can’t stop thinking about you, woman.Because I yearn for something I cannot have.
She sighed. “So much for our peace.”
Dispirited perhaps, her gaze fell upon the fire, and Wilhelm felt heartsore, because he wanted so desperately to be different. He wanted to sit here beside her, as Giles had done withRosalynde, and banter wittily. He wanted to learn more about Seren and her sisters. He wanted to tell her about his own life. He wanted to know what she loved, what she despised. He wanted to reassure her that in some ways they weren’t very different—and perhaps share their losses.
But, alas, it wasn’t only Seren who’d judged him and found him wanting. He imagined himself through the eyes of a lady of her caliber, and saw only a fool of a man who would like to be something more. But that was the trouble… she made him long to be what he wasn’t. So, then, if he was, indeed, ill-tempered, it was all because of her. The way he felt about her was like a gaping hole in his leathers, leaving him vulnerable in a way he might never have anticipated.
She is not for you,he reprimanded himself again.
Whether she be witch, or adewine—or whatever the hell Rosalynde called her sort—she was still a highborn lady, true-blood daughter to a dead king. Illegitimate or nay, Seren Pendragon was meant for a better man than he. But though Giles didn’t want her, Wilhelm did, and the longer he spent in her company, the more he wondered about the softness of her skin and the sweetness of her lips…
Even now, he felt his loins stirring, and he would like to have smacked his cock limp.
Annoyed by the turn of his thoughts, he waved her away. “Don’t you have some spell to cast, or something of the ilk?”
“Spell?”
“Whatever,” he said, waving her away.
Her eyes narrowed again, looking as stormy as they had when she’d cast that witchy wind over Dover.
God’s blood, that’s all he needed right now was to say the wrong thing and spur her ire. She would whip him into a tempest and cast him away, and he might well deserve it.
At any rate, he had a very good sense that whatever that was back there—that startling wind—it was only a fraction of the power this flower of Blackwood could harness. The simple fact that she seemed equally surprised by the conjuration was no comfort at all. It only left it all the more ill at ease.
“Nay,” she said, eyes glittering fiercely. “I have nospellsto cast, but I’d very much like to turn you into a toad.”
That did the trick; she got up, abandoning Wilhelm to his dark, brooding thoughts. But he watched her walk away, wondering: Could she do that? Turn him into toad? Nay. It couldn’t be possible.
And yet… that beast in the woodlot had shifted shapes…
Every nerve in his body warned him to stay clear of Seren Pendragon, and nevertheless, he was never more aware of another human being in all his days—and that included Ayleth of Bamburgh.
Ayleth was not for you,he told himself.
Seren is not for you.
