Page 315 of The Daughters of Avalon
She wanted desperately tomindspeakbut didn’t dare.
How strange the fates.
Her sweet sister was simply not the sort that Rhiannon would ever have imagined in such a role. Goddess knew, if there was anyone in this realm less ferocious than Seren, Rhiannon didn’t know them. She had always envisioned the Regnant as a warrior queen, more like herself, truth be told.
How wrong she had been.
And what of Rose?
Was she still the same? Prickly as a thorn, and wily as a fox—slipping away from the priory every chance she got. It was inconceivable to imagine that only five years ago, Rose had been a young girl, who’d enjoyed stealing men’s clothing. She wore them to slip into the woods to forage for herbs.
Of all her sisters, Rose had been the most like Rhiannon, and Seren and Arwyn had been most disparate—both sweet and gentle, with voices that never carried.
And then there was Elspeth—dearest Elspeth—she and her eldest sibling had locked horns so oft they both ought to have beat each other senseless.
Oh, nay, they never came to blows, but Elspeth had been equally as willful as Rhiannon, only far more self-righteous. And yet, she supposed Ellie had earned the right. She had been the one who had to defend them against Morwen.
Seeking Cael, taking comfort in his presence, her gaze traveled unerringly through the shadows, finding him tall in his saddle, looking like a venerable champion… her very own.
She couldn’t wait to introduce him to her sisters.
She wanted to assure them she was free and on the way, but daren’tmindspeakwith Morwen in pursuit. Now that Rhiannon understood more about what her mother was—aSylphkind—she realized it would be impossible to keep her from intercepting anything she put into theaether.
Nay, she decided. It was safer to keep her thoughts to herself, although, apparently, she couldn’t manage to conceal them all from Marcella. The paladin, with her limited abilities was able to glean the truth about what was lurking in her heart—else it must be a woman’s intuition. “I was right,” she said, with a little smirk in her tone. “You do love him.”
Resigned, Rhiannon gave the paladin a tentative nod, though she wasn’t even certain that Marcella could see the gesture inthis inky darkness. Thankfully, Cael rode far enough ahead that he couldn’t overhear.
“It pleases me to know it,” she said. “He’s risked so much to join you, I hope you realize.”
“I do,” assured Rhiannon, although she knew he hadn’t told her everything yet, and it still annoyed her that he was keeping secrets. “Alas, you seem to know my husband better than I do,” she said, though she didn’t intend it as an accusation, and thankfully Marcella didn’t take it as one.
The paladin laughed softly. “It took me years to cut through his armor,” she said. “But never fear, I’ve no doubt he’ll tell you everything in good time. Perhaps even tonight when we are safe at Amdel?”
The tiny hairs at Rhiannon’s nape prickled—anticipation?
The thought of being alone with Cael sent a frisson down her spine—not fear precisely, but not entirely delight.
For one thing, she hadn’t the first notion how to do a woman’s duty in the bedroom. Oh, she knewhowit was done, and, in fact, she’d pleasured herself a time or two in secret. She understood it could be pleasant for a woman as it was for a man. But she desperately wished to please her husband, and as bold as she liked to believe she was, she blushed like a nun merely at the thought of undressing in his presence.
Would he find her lacking?
Would he regret having embroiled himself?
After all, he didn’t have to wed her, and in truth, he was promised little for the effort. If in fact King Stephen meant to cede his crown to Duke Henry after his death, he hadn’t any reason to keep his Rex Militum, since the entire purpose of that commission—by all accounts, Rhiannon had heard—was to find and exterminate all threats to his reign. So, then, Cael might yet have to forfeit Blackwood, after all—not that she cared, mind you. Though she could certainly find it in her heart to love thatpile of stones, she would be content enough to simplybewith Cael, wherever that may be.
She wondered then… were they truly wed if they hadn’t yet had a first night?
Did men still have the desire to lie with a woman in the midst of war?
She considered that, and thought perhaps the answer must be yes, because she was a woman and even she thrilled over the barest possibility. Moreover, she’d heard about those women who followed troops, sometimes traveling along with them. They wouldn’t be doing that if men didn’t enjoy them, therefore the answer must be aye, but then, she frowned over the thought, wondering if Cael had ever availed himself of their services. She didn’t relish the possibility.
Something inexplicable had changed since he’d joined them—something Rhiannon couldn’t begin to construe.
It was as though she might be two people now—one, naught but a silly, blushing bride who longed for nothing more than to be touched by her lord husband. The other a dauntless soldier, ready to do battle for the sake of the realm. Neither of these two women had any likeness to the other, and somehow she was both.
And really, considering the circumstances, she shouldn’t even allow her head to be so filled with thoughts of kisses and caresses, but she couldn’t help it.
Even the steady trot of her mare left her wiggling in the saddle, and she felt like a doxy, exposed, even in full attire. No one was watching her, but she felt as though everyone one must be. She longed to ask for Marcella’s advice, but didn’t know how to broach the topic, and then it occurred to her that, normally, this might be something a maiden would ask her mother—more’s the pity, because she’d never had one.
