Rose of the Mists by Parker Laura

Author:Parker, Laura [Parker, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2012-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“I’ve decided I’m quite attached to my freedom,” Robin declared with a sigh of contentment as he rode beside Revelin. “No one will believe the tale we’ve to tell of Ulster. Captured by the barbaric O’Neills, brought as prisoners to Turlough himself, feted at the pagan feast of Beltane, and then set free by a fairy’s trick, ’tis deserving of a sonnet!”

“I would wait until we’ve crossed back into the pale before committing your doggerel to parchment.” Revelin winked at his friend. “You cannot tell when we may meet an O’Neill who might take exception to your verse.”

Robin nodded seriously despite Revelin’s bantering tone. A day and a half out of the O’Neills’ company had not been long enough for his fear of Ulstermen to fade completely.

He glanced down at the angry marks circling his wrists and then at the rolling green countryside where every rocky outcropping or stand of trees might hide a warrior. “I’ve had enough of blindfolds and manacles to last me a lifetime! Do you suppose they thought we might be tempted to find them again?”

Revelin urged his mount ahead down a steep slope, leaving the question unanswered. Turlough was a seasoned warrior. He would suspect the motives of every Englishman sent to Ireland. If they had been able to state the exact location of the O’Neill camp, Turlough would not have set them free. He had vowed that the O’Neills would remain neutral, siding neither with the Irish nobles nor with the Crown if war came to the southland. But times were uncertain and the queen’s memory long. Any information she received would not go to waste if she perceived an advantage in a change of strategy.

Meghan’s arms tightened about Revelin’s waist as they began the climb down and he automatically reassured her by patting her clasped hands. “Are you comfortable, lass?”

“Aye.”

Revelin frowned at the simple, lackluster answer. She had scarcely spoken three words together since they’d begun the morning’s journey. Her moods were mercurial, flowing seamlessly from joy to moodiness to sadness. He had hoped that she would be happy to leave Ulster and the superstitious prattling of the O’Neills.

His expression lightened at the thought of the Scots gallow-glass. There, at least, the problem had solved itself: Colin had disappeared from the settlement the night of Meghan’s supposed vision.

Meghan moved again, adjusting her body for a more comfortable ride, and tucked her hands up under Revelin’s doublet. Her fingers moved across his middle, splaying out onto his chest as she leaned her head against his back. The cradling warmth of her body reminded him that beneath her mantle she was nearly naked. She had traded her Beltane gown for a new leine, and the straight-lined garment was ill suited for riding astride. Yet, she seemed unaware that the inviting softness of her naked thighs was a torment that he could scarcely ignore.

This was no better than the preceding day, when she had ridden up before him, he decided. Constantly assailed by her sweet

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