Page 50 of The Beast's Bride
They lay down next to each other, shoulders touching. “Tell me a secret,” he said after a moment, “something no one else but ye knows.”
Rhona glanced over at his profile. “Something I haven’t even told my sisters?”
He met her eye, smiling. “Aye … a true secret.”
Rhona heaved in a deep breath and thought hard. There were a number of things she’d kept to herself over the years. She wasn’t sure which secret to share.
“I saw one of the Fair Folk once,” she said finally.
He rolled over onto his side toward her, propping himself up on an elbow. “Ye did?”
She wondered if he believed her. The Fair Folk, or the Aos Sí as they were also known, were a part of this isle’s folklore. Fairy mounds and stone circles littered the island’s green hills. Folk were wary of them.
“I was around eight,” Rhona replied. “And out exploring the shore with my sisters. We were collecting shells before the twin fairy mounds north of the keep.”
Taran nodded. “I know the place.”
“We had lingered too late, and dusk came upon us,” Rhona continued. “We were just about to turn for home when I saw a woman standing before the mounds. She was clad in flowing white, her hair long and dark. She had the face of an angel. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”
“Did yer sisters see her too?”
Rhona shook her head. “They’d already turned back.” She paused as the memory of that strange day returned to her. The scent of brine from the loch, the mist that curled like crone’s hair around the woman’s skirts. “We looked at each other, and then she smiled. It was a lovely expression, full of gentleness and warmth … and then she beckoned to me.”
“She wanted ye to follow her?”
Rhona glanced back at him and saw that his brow had furrowed. “Aye … and I would have too, if Da’s voice hadn’t reached me. He’d come out looking for us, ye see. He bellowed my name and broke the spell. I glanced over my shoulder at where my sisters were running toward him, and when I looked back the woman was gone.”
“Ye had a narrow escape,” Taran said gently. “She would have taken ye.”
Rhona nodded. “I knew it too afterward … that’s why I never said anything to my sisters, or to Da.” She swiveled round to face him properly. “Yer turn. Tell me a secret.”
Taran met her eye. “I’m afraid of rats.”
Rhona drew back, incredulous. “Is that it?”
“I’m terrified of the bastards, Rhona. Just the sight of one sends me into a cold sweat.”
She favored him with an arch look. “Ye are teasing.”
He shook his head. “I wish I was.”
She huffed. Taran MacKinnon was the biggest and fiercest of her father’s warriors. She couldn’t imagine him afraid of anything. Certainly not rodents. “No one likes rats,” she said after a moment, “but what do ye find so repellent about them?”
“Their long naked tails,” he said with a twist of his face that wasn’t feigned. “Their scrabbling feet, beady eyes, and twitching noses. When I was a bairn, Ma used to check my bed every night to make sure there weren’t any rats hiding under the sheets … until Da stopped her. He said she was coddling me too much.”
“And no one knows of this fear?”
His gaze seared hers. “Only ye.” The way he said the words made Rhona’s pulse quicken. She knew so little about her husband.
All that was about to change.
“Keep yer elbows bent and close to yer body,” Taran commanded, “and keep yer sword raised at all times.”
Rhona snorted, circling him, the hilt of her wooden practice sword gripped tight in both hands. “I know all this.”
“Ye are rusty, lass,” Taran replied, brow furrowing. “It bears repeating.”
Rhona raised an eyebrow. The pair of them faced each other in the practice yard. Now that they were wed, her father could no longer forbid Taran from training her. Three days had passed since their handfasting, and Rhona was eager to restart her lessons with Taran. Dressed in leggings, a loose léine belted at the waist, high boots, and with the wind tugging at her braided hair, she felt ridiculously happy this morning.
