"It is the sea. It lies over that rise."
"The sea," she echoed, remembering how many times her fingers had traced the curve of a shell, as if to unravel the sea's mysteries. "I never guessed it could sing."
Dark brows lowered over piercing green eyes. "If there was a storm coming, I would wager you would not like its song."
There was enough scorn in the words to prick at her temper, as if he were questioning her courage. Her chin jutted up, stubborn. "I love storms."
He gave a grunt of disbelief.
"When I was a child, I would run out into the rain, watch the sky split, and listen to the heavens roar. It was glorious."
"You were mad."
Caitlin could not stop the tiniest smile from curving one corner of her mouth. "Nay, I was full of wondering, and I wanted to see it all. Be part of it somehow."
"You must have led the abbess a merry chase. What penance did she assign you for such a grievous sin? Hours of prayer until your knees were raw?"
The memory stirred a sweet, soft pain in her heart. "I think her only regret was that she could not come out and join me." The loss of that gift,someone to share with—joy and sadness, fear and discovery—suddenly seemed vast indeed. Loneliness tightened Caitlin's throat.
Was it possible the great brute of a man sensed the subtle shift within her? Or was he oblivious to the emotions warring in her breast? "The sky is clear this day, Caitlin of the Lilies. I fear I cannot summon you a storm."
She clung to those words, trying to shake free of the melancholy places in her heart too private to allow anyone, especially this enigmatic stranger, to probe. She groped for something to distract them both.
"Tell me, is your chieftain's fortress near the sea?"
"The fortress is inland. He is for too canny to build close enough to the waters for the raiders to sail in and take all he owns. If an enemy has to cross the land, there is time to raise the alarm, gather an army for defense."
Caitlin caught her lip against a wave of disappointment. "Then I suppose I will never see it. The sea. Can you tell me what it is like?"
He gave a growl of impatience. "It is wet."
Caitlin grimaced. She had been a fool to ask him. He was nothing like the abbess, who brushed color into her stories, poetry in thepictures she painted in someone else's head. Better just to imagine the sea herself.
Falling silent she delved into the tales she had heard—Jonah in the belly of the whale but, more delicious still, the lore of the fierce Celtic sea god, Manannán mac Lir, riding Enbharr, his wave-maned horse, across his mighty domain.
She was all but lost in her imaginings when suddenly the horse broke through a copse of trees. She cried out as the earth fell away before its great hooves. Niall reined the beast to a halt just before they all three plunged over what seemed the edge of a cliff.
Caitlin gasped, turning toward him to clutch at his arms. "Are you crazed?" she snapped at Niall. "There is no path here!"
"Only a fool would follow one into the sea."
"The—the sea?" She peered up into his face, still saw impatience, the hardness of a warrior, his expression inscrutable. Then she turned her eyes out to a sight that stole her breath away. Never had she seen such impossible beauty, even in her own imagination.
Giant black stones descended from the lip of green turf in a steep giant's stairway twice as high as the abbey walls. At the curving base of rock, waves danced, sunshine casting glitteringdiamonds across a surface the mystical blue of mermaids' hair. Foam swirled, as if bits of clouds had been woven in their tresses. It stretched out forever, blue and green and white and wonderful.
A tiny sound tore from Caitlin's throat.
"The horse has a stone caught in its hoof." Niall sounded almost defensive. "You might as well wander about while I dig it out. It will keep you from being underfoot."
He was still speaking, but she was too excited to hear. She slid down the horse's sweaty side, stumbling for an instant, her limbs exhausted from riding, but the aches fled, banished by sea spray and sunshine.
She heard Niall's growled warnings, but nothing could have stopped her. She hastened to the edge, where the layer of turf gave way to a tangle of giant stones that formed a pathway to water so beautiful she had to touch it.
She caught the folds of her leine high above her knees and scrabbled down the stones, heedless of the scraping of rock against her tender skin. The music was calling her, the crash of waves as they impaled themselves on the stones.
She wanted to reach the lowest rock, to let the spray break over her. Wanted to feel the power of the sea, as she had the storm so long ago.
She climbed downward, breathed deep of salt air, marveled at the graceful flight of gulls. Green lace shirred the stones here and there, seaweed, picked at by tiny birds she had never seen.
