She stood motionless for a moment, fascinated by how the lips stretched into the most glorious of expressions, full andcontent. By how the eyes devoid of falsehood sparkled in the rays of the evening sun, the charcoal ashes turning to life, the fire in them breathing warmth and comfort. Then the world turned, the people went on mingling and laughing, and Rhiannon remained the sole recipient of the joyful smile.
“None of us knew if it would end up a success, except perhaps my father and Headmistress Nox. Still, even with the newfound fame after the full rebuild of the school that brought back a lot of the new infrastructure for Crow’s Nest, it’s never overwhelming.”
“Ah, the famous Headmistress.”
Pru’s smile grew wider. Rhiannon instantly despised the damn schoolmarm.
“She is quite something. She comes to the store sometimes. Her reading is very eclectic.”
Rhiannon almost rolled her eyes at the praise before catching herself. Her hand, the palm where their skin connected, was suspiciously cold. She was working herself up for nothing.
And then she almost rolled her eyes at her own behavior. Could she even believe the way she was acting? Over a young woman from this godforsaken town who was naive and too joyful for her own good and who was of absolutely no importance? So, there was a connection. So, there was magic. So, there were dreams. These things happened and Rhiannon was done with them. She had forsaken connections and magic and craft and power the day she drove her old beat-up car off the ferry and onward to Boston and New York and LA twenty-two years ago. That life was over. That Rhiannon Crowhart was dead.
Still, dead or not, she knew she had a caretaker’s responsibility where this woman was concerned.
“You must be wondering what had happened earlier in front of your store.”
She spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet Pru did not lean closer. For some reason, it irked Rhiannon. Not that she had been seeking closeness. What she wanted was closure, as it were, of this issue. And some peace for the year to come, where she could survive the months ahead and then leave the island once again.
“Depends on what you mean.” Prudence’s answer surprised her, surprised her enough to make her take a tiny step closer, the scent of fresh linen and dewy air enveloping her senses. Was it perfume?
“I mean the…warmth.” Rhiannon finally settled on the word.
“Not the storms? Not the thunder and lightning? Not the winds? Those have been quite fascinating, since Crow’s Nest is entirely surrounded, with the exception of the lagoon, and as such sheltered from bad squalls.”
Rhiannon narrowed her eyes. Touché and dammit, why did she ever think this woman was naive? Was it her own desire to render her as a townie of no consequence? Or Lachlan’s earlier assertion that she was innocent?
Well, she might be innocent, young, and perhaps new to the ways of the world, but the mind at work here was astute and bright, like the wise eyes looking at her from under the longest lashes. Rhiannon had the urge to feel them on her skin.
Butterfly kisses.
She had the strongest sense of déjà vu, feeling those lashes, touching them… Last night’s dream hit her with the force of a freight train. The tenderness, the reverence of the connection, of the way the silver thread of magic reached the other woman, caressing her bruised arms…
“You shouldn’t be here… You should go! He will hurt you again.”
“No, no, he’s gone for the night. And you need to eat. How you going to be strong enough to run away?”
“Only if it’s with you. Run away with me, away from here. Away from him.”
Slim, gentle hands pushed bread at her, and she felt the tears fall down her cheeks. She was so hungry and so scared and she hadn’t heard from her mother in days. And this woman, this angel, was her one tether to sanity. The one that offered sustenance, but above all, hope. Sweet, sweet hope that maybe she would live, maybe they would both be free. Despite the cell holding her in. Despite the bruises covering the soft skin, bruises she wanted to erase. Bruises she wanted to avenge.
The woman extended her hand, laying it through the bars on her shoulder, and the connection bloomed, the emotion and the quiet murmured promise feeding her, sustaining her better than food, holding her fear at bay and awakening something in her, something so gentle she wanted to weep again. And she wanted to touch, to caress, to hold, to kiss…
Rolling her eyes at herself again was useless. She clearly was under some sort of spell, wound up by her sexless years and the memories of this place tearing her soul. Insanity was plausible if not also entirely probable.
“Have you spoken to Ceridwen, then?”
Prudence’s gaze was open, honest.
“No, but I figured if you didn’t show up here today or tomorrow, Sunday would be my chance to go visit the garden center. I can’t have any more plants, I think I am overdoing it, but seeing her is always a pleasure and she seemed…inclined to answer my questions.”
“Clever girl.”
Did her voice really get that low? Did she mean for her intonation to be that suggestive? Just two words. Ordinary, regular words, but Rhiannon felt the air suddenly change between them. They were in the view of the entire Market Square, and yet the intimacy of the moment felt complete,overwhelming in the images it instantly conjured in her mind. And judging by the way Prudence’s eyelashes fluttered, her mouth parting on a silent O, lips soft, full…a pink tongue coming out to wet them her chest and neck flushing bright red. Did this woman know what she was unleashing?
And what in the hell am I even thinking?
Rhiannon watched as the gray in those wondrous eyes darkened, and the fury of her own beating heart sounded like a drum in her ears. A call to arms, if there ever was one. A call to devour. A hungry, ravenous call to take. Flashes of blonde hair in her grip, of torn cotton and red marks blooming on silky skin, made her shudder. She could do it. One step… Just one step and her fingers could caress the edges of that flush, trace it, slip under the simple shirt, watch it pool down at their feet, and discover how low it spread, how it looked on that chest, rising and falling fast, so fast… Too fast for someone who only seconds ago was so self-contained, so sure.
