Page 68 of Warrior’s Lady

Chapter Twenty

Rhiannon straightened away from the door. Remorse filled him at the pain in her eyes. He'd hurt her yet again. If anyone was to blame for Violet's use of the Stone, it was he. He'd felt a presence behind him in the chapel the other day. He should have followed his instincts and hidden the Stone someplace else.

And yet he had turned his anger against Rhiannon. He knew she had acted in Violet's best interest, allowing the girl to use the stone one time, then keeping it from her so that she did not endanger herself. It was what he would have done.

Not only had she been right in her actions with Violet, she had put into words something he had been avoiding for three years now. He was no longer a prisoner in the Holy Land. He no longer had to fight his battles alone. Rhiannon had proven her own honesty over and over again. It was time to give a little of that back. He stopped a handsbreadth from her.

High color glowed on her cheeks, and golden hair spilled over her shoulders. Her blue dress concealed her body, but he needed no image to recall the soft and supple curves beneath her garments.

He had tried not to think of her over the past four days, and for the most part he had been successful. Battle tended to take one's focus, all of it. Only when he closed his eyes as the battle died during the night did his willpower fail him. If he had hoped to exorcise her from his blood upon his return, or sought to use the days away from her to regain his perspective, there, too, he had failed miserably.

He was drowning in the scent of her hair, the sight of her, and if she did not stop looking at him that way, he might be tempted to recall even more.

Camden tensed, his whole body fighting his desire to take her in his arms. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

Her amber eyes flared. "You aren't alone."

"I feel…uncertain."

"About?"

"Everything around me is changing."

She cast her eyes downward. "That's not always a bad thing."

"Nay. But it is unsettling. I've never felt like this before. I don't like feeling one moment that I can fly, and the next moment like I want to smash something."

Rhiannon looked up. Confusion lingered in her gaze. "That sounds dreadful."

"It is, but it's not." He groaned. "I'm not good with words. Let me show you what I mean."

A flicker of apprehension crossed her face. "How?"

He brought his fingers up to the delicate curve of her cheek. "Give me from now until dawn to show you."

She smiled tentatively. "Until dawn."

Camden had asked her for one hour to prepare for their evening together. Rhiannon paced the length of her bedchamber, waiting for Camden to come.

She paused at the window to look out at the drifts of snow that dotted the land and rested her head against the cool glass. She waited with her head pressed against the chilled glass for what seemed like hours before a soft knock came on the door. Rhiannon straightened.

The maid, Rosy, peeked her head inside the chamber. "The master asked me to help ye dress. In this." She entered the room carrying a large box that she set on the bed. "Go ahead, open it."

Rhiannon found herself drawn to the box until she stood beside it. Possessed by a force outside herself, she smoothed her fingers over the edge of the large box. With a sudden rush of joy, she lifted the lid to reveal several yards of frothy fabric in the color of the sky on a clear spring morning.

Carefully, she lifted the edges of the cloth and the fabric took the form of a dress. The fitted bodice came to a V in the front, and a much lower V in the back that flared out from there to flow to the ground in waves of ruffles and lace. Tiny seed pearls were sewn into groupings of threes, dotting the entire dress. The iridescent decorations warmed beneath her touch. It was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen.

"He wants me to wear this?"

The maid nodded. "He had it made for ye after the mishap with Lady Lockhart's gown. Let's put it on. The entire staff is waitin' belowstairs to see ye in yer gown."

"You all want to see me?" she asked, stunned. "Why? Why would your opinion of me shift at all? I have not changed."

"Nay." The maid dropped her gaze to the floor. "But ye showed all of us that ye would willingly put others' safety above yer own. Ye saved Lord Lockhart from an attacker. Ye helped Charlotte survive her childbirth. Ye protected Lady Violet when we were attacked and ye were taken in return. Ye are appreciated." Rosy removed the dress from the box, then draped it across the bed, revealing its full beauty and elegance. "Let me help ye dress."

Rhiannon stared at the dress as her mind reeled from the maid's forthright comments. She would have to agree that the household's behavior toward her had shifted. There were subtle signs: a cautious smile, an offered bowl of pottage at the midday meal, a fresh basin of water near the bed upon awaking, a warm fire in the hearth each night.

At first she'd let those things pass as necessities that Camden had insisted upon. But the kindness had continued while he'd been gone. An extra warm blanket on her bed one night, the lavender soap that had appeared by her washbasin, and most notable of all, no one hissed at her or spat on her as she passed them in the halls. Had they truly started to accept her? Despite who she was?