Page 271 of The Daughters of Avalon
What else could convince strangers to aid her against Morwen? Either they owed Cael a great debt, else they loathed her mother so much they were willing to risk life and limb on Rhiannon’s behalf. But no matter the circumstances, Rhiannon was grateful, though there was something about Marcella that needled her.
The woman was sullen and suspicious, curt and mercurial—very much like a changeling. One minute she was entirely too solicitous, the next she was snappish, and it seemed to Rhiannon that no matter what she did, the woman was despotic.
Right now, it was impossible to gauge her expression or her mood for the hood she wore. “At this pace, it won’t be long before we cross into England,” she said aloud.
“Good,” was all Rhiannon could think to answer, and then after, the silence grew thick.
Sweet fates.
They weren’t even gone one night, and already she found that Cael’s face hovered like a ghost behind her lids, threatening to materialize every time she closed her eyes.
I don’t love you,she told herself furiously.
I don’t even like you.
But it wasn’t true.
She loved him with reckless abandon—even more now that he’d dared to risk his life to save her.
Aye, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that there would be a price to be paid for this. She only hoped that Cael understood what he was doing and that he knew how to handle her mother.
Time and again, she turned to scrutinize the path behind them, trembling with fear, all the while lying to herself and telling herself she didn’t care.
But she did.
And if, indeed, Cael’s ruse was discovered…
The thought left her sick with fear.
“You love him, do you not?”
Startled by the impertinent question, Rhiannon met Marcella’s gaze. “Nay,” she lied.
Thedewine’slips tilted up at one corner. “Ah,” she said, with an infuriating sense of certainty. “I think you do.”
Rhiannon cast the woman an annoyed glance. “Why should I?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Rhiannon, with no small measure of disgust. “Perhaps because he’s in league with my mother?”
Silence.
“Or, better yet, mayhap because he kept me imprisoned for five long years!”
Marcella flicked her hand dismissively. “Alas, my cousin is a complicated man. And yet, I know he loves you.”
Or so he’d claimed, though it didn’t suit Rhiannon to dwell on such notions—not here, not now. It would serve her far better to remember the worst of Cael—that he’d locked her away in a tower for six long months before finally affording her the luxury of a bower.
And then he’d allowed her mother’s lackey to place her in shackles, then no matter how oft she’d lowered herself to beg, he’d never once considered removing them.
Until last night.
“I don’t thinkheknows what love is,” Rhiannon countered.
“Hmm,” said Marcella, scornfully. “I wonder how he might prove it?”
Nettled, Rhiannon met her question with stubborn silence, though Marcella persisted.
