Page 59

“I thank you, Hefin,” she said.

“Yes, miss.” He bowed again, and without another word, he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Rhiannon stood perfectly still, her eyes on the linen sack in her hand. The object within was hard and square. A quiver of apprehension coursed down her spine. She had no notion what the sack contained, but an indefinable whisper told her it was important.

Lowering herself onto the edge of the bed, she set the sack beside her and pulled it open. She released the fabric. It dropped to the bed, allowing the top of a small wooden box to emerge from within its folds. With a gasp, she reached for the object. Her fingers trembled.

Drawing the box closer, she lifted the lid. A single heavy tear—the only one left to her after her earlier crying spell—rolled down her cheek and landed on her thumb. Slowly, she ran her finger across the familiar silver brooch within.

“Mam,” she whispered. “Oh, that you were with me still.”

She touched the bracelet, its smooth surface cool beneath her fingertip. How could this be? Her mother’s jewelry box had disappeared with the vile Viking who had killed her father. And yet, here it was, looking just as she remembered, her mother’s brooch and bracelet seemingly untouched. But there was something else. Slowly, she withdrew a silver pendant. Sunlight caught the intricate engraving on its edges, sending flecks of light dancing across the ceiling. Rhiannon’s breath caught. This pendant had not belonged to her mother, but she had seen it before.

Tilting the piece of jewelry, she examined the finely etched wave more carefully than she had done at the market. The workmanship was breathtaking. It was quite possibly the most beautifully worked silver she had ever seen. Leif had told Cadwgan it was not for sale, so how had it come to be in her mother’s jewelry box? And how had the jewelry box returned to her?

She set the pendant aside and closed the lid on the box. Lovingly running her hand across its surface, she closed her eyes as memories assailed her. The jewelry box sitting where it had always sat on the table in her mother’s chamber, and then later in Rhiannon’s. Her father pinning the brooch on her mother’s shawl, the look of love in his eyes making Rhiannon’s heart ache. And her mother, holding Rhiannon’s hand and twirling her in a circle, the bracelet on her wrist swirling with her.

Rhiannon’s throat tightened as the dark memories pushed in. The marauders’ shouts, her father’s cry, and the callous expression on the redheaded Viking’s face as he’d raced away, this box in hand. And then there was Leif. His blue eyes, sorrowful, haunted. And his broken apology. Rhiannon swallowed against the pain. Leif had done this. Somehow, he had found her mother’s jewelry box and had returned it to her.

She swung to face the window. Already, the sun was lowering. How long had it been since Hefin had been at the door? Within the hour at the river. That had been the message. That had been Leif’s message. Slipping the pendant into the small purse attached to her girdle, she tucked the wooden box back into the sack and hid it under her blanket. She moved to the door, opened it, and peered outside. The passage was clear. Raising her skirts a couple of inches, she hurried to the tower and down the stairs.

Two years of practice in avoiding the royal guards as she made her regular pilgrimages to the sea at Aberffraw gave her the skills necessary to escape the castle. Rhiannon stood in the shadows of the entrance to the outer courtyard long enough to watch the guards march back and forth three times. It was enough. The brief moment between when the first one turned his back on the entrance and the second one replaced him was consistent each time.

Walking as though she were simply out for an afternoon stroll, Rhiannon sauntered closer to the main gate. A groom greeted her with a polite bow while leading a white horse toward the stable. She passed the fletcher’s shop and the entrance to the guardroom. The guard on the right side of the entrance turned. Rhiannon counted to three and walked directly out through the open gate. She did not turn around. If either of the guards noticed her, they said nothing, but the steady march of their feet accompanied her pounding heart as she crossed the dirt road and started down the embankment toward the river.

The soothing sound of rushing water gradually replaced the rhythmic beat of heavy footsteps, and Rhiannon slowed to take in the view. A wide river cut through the valley, winding in a gentle curve around the rise upon which the castle stood. Trees and shrubs dotted the grass-covered landscape and lined the river bank, but the only other sign of life was a fox that darted out from between two oak trees and disappeared almost immediately.

Rhiannon paused, the first hint of misgiving settling upon her. Would she ever learn to curb her impulsive nature? She had raced out of the castle with little forethought and no escort. Furthermore, not a soul knew where she had gone. She looked to the left and the right, grateful that as yet, there was no one in sight. The water rushed by, calling to her. It had been too long since she had stood at the seashore, watching the waves roll in. She would walk to the water and feel of its calming influence before returning to the castle.

Hurrying down the remaining slope, she made for a small break in the vegetation at the water’s edge. The limbs of a rhododendron bush hung low, dipping its leaves into the river. Rhiannon crouched beside it, the tips of her fingers submerged, reveling in the glossy smoothness of the cool liquid.

“You love water.”

She had not seen or heard Leif’s approach, but she had expected nothing less. “Yes.” She rose to face him. “Do you?”

He smiled, and a hundred butterflies swirled within her stomach. “Very much. There are few places that I would rather be than in a longboat with a stiff breeze in the sail and open water before me.”

A wave of longing swept over her. “I have dreamed of going to sea for as long as I can remember.”

“Then, why have you waited?”

This was not the time to tell him that her father would never have heard of it. “I have yet to find a fisherman willing to take me onboard,” she said.

“You will not experience the full majesty of the sea in a small fishing vessel near the shore.”

“I daresay,” she said, “but my opportunities to sail in a longboat are fewer still.” She tipped her head to one side, studying him curiously. “Is that why you created the pendant? Because of your love of the sea?”

“That particular piece came to life in my hands. It was a rare, rather wonderful moment when my heart and my hands were in tune.”

“Why did you put it in my mother’s jewelry box?”

His eyes met hers, and Rhiannon’s pulse quickened. “I wished you to have it,” he said. “It seemed only right that after having been deprived of your mother’s jewelry all this time, her pieces should be added upon.”

Rhiannon looked away, an unfamiliar ache forming in her chest. How was she to respond to such a gift? She had never received anything so beautiful, so meaningful, and yet, in all good conscience, she could not accept it. Her fingers moved to the purse at her waist, but before she opened it, she asked the question that had circled her mind since she’d first opened the sack. “How did you come upon my mother’s jewelry box? You were not the one to leave with it.”

“I offered Rune something he considered to be of greater worth in exchange for the jewelry box.”

Rhiannon’s heart was pounding once more. “Why?”