Page 21 of Cuckoo in the Coven


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But no, it couldn’t be.

He watched her with interest, and then his eyes flashed silver.

She blinked and he was gone.

She turned away and clung to Cullen, darting alongside him.

“You may have to come with me aboard the Gloriana,” he announced in a matter of fact tone, “for I cannot leave you in peril, lass. Either that or I stay, and defy my debt of honor to be by your side.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped her.

I’m still dreaming, right, she thought, and grinned.

He returned her grin, his eyes twinkling again. “Now that I witness your beautiful smile, lass, I know why they called you Sunny.”

Sunny’s heart fluttered in her chest, her emotions running high.

“You risked your life for me,” she whispered, and glanced at him as they hastened away. She could still scarcely believe it was true.

He seemed startled by her remark. “What sort of a man would I be, if I did not?”

I wish I could keep this dream forever, Sunny thought, or—better still—keep the man!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Witchcraft, Cullen decided. He’d seen it before in Raven’s Landing, and there was no way to explain what had happened with their pursuers otherwise. Sunny was one of the magical women in the area, a secret trade passed down from generation to generation.

Nevertheless, Cullen rued the fight, unavoidable though it was. The lass had stolen his affections and he would defend her to the death—a notion she seemed to find shocking.

A pity it was market day. Folks traveled from far and wide to buy and sell their wares in the marketplace, and he hadn’t wanted to stop and explain himself to anyone he knew. The small feminine hand inside his clung tight, and that pleased him.

When they reached the far side of the town, he headed along the shore edge toward the caves at the cliffs. Nathaniel had told him there would be a boat lodged in an old cave they used to frequent as children. He was fortu

nate to have a good friend like Nathaniel, who had stepped in and offered a solution, although Cullen couldn’t help wondering how Nathaniel had gained him passage aboard a passing ship so quickly.

Dark clouds gathered overhead. The weather had turned since dawn. This did not bode well. The ship may have to wait for calmer waters, or, worse still, be unable to drop anchor at all, in order to collect him. On the horizon, he could just see the shapes of the fishing boats heading back in to the harbor with their catch, cut short perhaps by the turn in the weather.

The cliffs reared up at their side, and he craned his neck in an effort to determine the outcrop of rock that would indicate the old hiding place. The winds buffeted against them, and the sea was getting rougher. At the shore edge, seaweed rolled on the crest of the edgy waves.

Just as he began to think he’d missed the entrance to the cave, they came upon it and he pointed it out to Sunny, ushering her inside. It was just as he remembered it, smaller perhaps, but sheltered and haven-like. There was a drifting tide of sand against one wall, from the high tides of the spring. Against the other sat the rowboat Nathaniel had arranged for him.

“Nathaniel thought of everything. I’ll be able to row out to the Gloriana when she sails into the bay, without drawing too much attention to myself. They are collecting a cargo of tin along the coast and Nathaniel has paid them a good price for taking me on board. I don’t want to draw any more fuss.”

One glance at her told him she wasn’t taking his words in.

He sighed and dropped his knapsack, flinging off his cloak and laying it down on the sandy floor for her to sit upon. He had a look around and reassured himself the cave was safe enough to give them cover until the ship dropped anchor. Once he’d seen it pass into the bay, he could make his way on board with the least attention.

Now he had time to tend to the woman.

She was shocked after her injury, and his sorry status with the bailiff had no doubt frightened her. The man would never have spoken to him in such a way had it not been for the mishap the week before, for which he unjustly carried the blame. He glanced over to where she sat huddled against the rough wall of the cave, her eyes focused vaguely on the mid-distance, her thoughts far, far away.

He strode out of the cave to cup his hand in the sea water and returned to run it over her wound. “This will sting, I’m sorry.”

He poured the water over the wound, cleaning it. She flinched, but not much, and made no sound. “You are brave, lass.”

She gave a wild sort of a laugh.

He squatted down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Now, tell me, what has startled you so? It’s as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

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