The Flower And The Sword

They circled each other. Rogan’s movements were smooth, like some wild animal of prey stalking with deliberate care. Finally, Latvar swung, the whooshing sound of the mace slicing through the still air. Rogan ducked, avoiding the mace easily. Latvar swung again, but his blow was once more evaded.

Latvar’s war cry resounded and he lunged. Rogan maneuvered himself away from the brutal onslaught without a scratch. They circled again, wary, taking measure.

In a rage, Latvar hurled the mace aside and drew his own sword. To this invitation, Rogan raised his own weapon, swinging it over his head in an arc and bringing it down against the Dane’s. The deafening sound of steel against steel sounded out, making Lily start.

Latvar was larger, but Rogan was unbelievably quick. The Dane could not bring the sword back up fast enough to see each of Rogan’s swings. Lily saw Rogan unleash a barrage of blows that left his opponent backwheeling, panting and exhausted. When Latvar dropped to one knee, Rogan placed a booted foot on his chest, laying his blade gently against the thick neck.

Lily waited in tense anticipation as the two remained in perfect stillness before Latvar nodded, admitting defeat. Lily craned her neck to see her father’s reaction. Enguerrand’s face was red, his lips tight, but he only stared stonily at the Dane. Behind him, Andrew bounced on his heels, gloating.

What would her father do now? Lily wondered. Rogan inclined his head to Latvar and offered him a hand. Poor Latvar looked guiltily at his master. Enguerrand said something to the men and Andrew laughed and gave her father a good-natured slam on the back. He shrugged and turned away, stalking off toward the stables with Andrew sauntering behind.

The crowd that had gathered broke up. Rogan came over to the water barrel, which was perilously close to where Lily lay hidden. She shrank back, angry with herself for not stealing away. She should have left while she had the chance! She was very still, very quiet. Her pulse thumped wildly in her throat.

Taking up the dipper, he poured water over his shoulders and back. He tilted his head up, splashing his face and running wet hands through his hair.

“Well, are you not going to come out and congratulate me?” he asked casually, “or are you still angry with me for last night?”

Chapter Five (#ulink_2cb17b31-cbd3-5318-85d6-c52626d46d5e)

Closing her eyes, Lily wished fervently that her ears had deceived her, that Rogan had not discovered her in this humiliating position. After a minute, she rose and stood before him like a penitent child.

“Well?” he prodded. “Are you still angry?”

“N-no,” she stammered.

“I should not have been so boorish. It was rude of me to ask such an unseemly question. However, I could not resist, and sometimes when men and women are alone, strange things are said. Even stranger done. I suppose that is why fathers are so determined to keep their daughters locked away.” His eyes held a curious blend of sincerity and laughter. “Your father should take better care to keep you locked away, you know. Your freedoms, meager though they are, do tempt me.”

“Oh,” Lily said, surprised by this contrite statement. She had been afraid he would tease her.

“So, do you forgive me?”

“I do,” she agreed. Digging the toe of her slipper in the dirt, she added, “I suppose I overreacted a bit. But you took me by surprise.”

“What a shame, and when I was enjoying our conversation so much. I was sorry when you left.”

She eyed him speculatively. “Sometimes I think you mock me.”

“What?” he said, brows shooting up in surprise. “I, mock you? Why Lily, it is you who mock me to accuse me of being insincere. I speak my mind, though it might seem dense to you. But, I am only a soldier. I can only make the excuse that I am crude and unused to the company of ladies such as yourself.”

“Oh, you are far from crude. If you never thought yourself charming, then you do not know yourself as well as you think. And I believe you are adequately acquainted with the company of ladies.”

“But none such as yourself,” he qualified. “And I do admit I tease you. I confess I rather enjoy your reaction. There is so much pretense and posturing between men and women, and I have little tolerance for it. I like the way you are so honest in your responses.”

Feeling as though her breath had been stolen away by the unexpected compliment, Lily blushed. “I suppose I am to blame as well for our misunderstanding.” She shot him a mischievous look from beneath her lashes. “I have been warned to beware of gardens in the evening and serpent-tongued rogues.”

“So you think me a rogue, do you?” He laughed, as if that were the most ridiculous thing he ever heard.

The glow from last night was stealing over her again. She felt her earlier caution desert her. Tilting her head to one side, she gave him an assessing look.

“Once,” she said slowly, “when I was a child, some traveling troubadours and jugglers came to the castle. My mother was alive then, and she adored such entertainments. We had a celebration, a fair with exotic acts and sights. One of the attractions was a man from the East who wore no shirt and had a great linen wrapped around his head with a gigantic ruby in it. Catherine insisted it was merely glass, but I always liked to think that it was real. His skin was darker than the field workers. He would play his flute a certain way to make a snake rise up out of the basket he had with him. The snake was so enraptured by the song that it was rendered harmless. It did his bidding, and he played his flute to command the snake to rise and fall.”

Rogan looked at her. He was standing so close. He still had not replaced his shirt and his hair was still tousled and damp. He was so appealing. She was acutely aware of every aspect of his body. Something inside her ached, making the little distance between them almost painfully undesirable. Lily knew if he made a move to close the gap, she would not be able to recapture her indignation from last night. There was something pulling her toward him, and she was losing both her ability and her desire to deny it.

“Why do you tell me this tale?” he murmured.

“Because I sometimes feel with you that I am that snake and you are that man with the flute and…” She could not finish.

Rogan pulled his shirt over his head. When that was done, he explained, “I thought I had better minimize my similarity to the bare-chested Saracen.” His eyes were warm, those eyes that looked like a wolf’s. It made her shiver.

“You say the most astonishing things,” he murmured. “Do you not know the coquette’s teasing ways, the power of the great eyelash-flutter maneuver, how to purse your lips in a flattering pout?” At first, Lily thought he was admonishing her for her forwardness, but the gentle smile that played on his lips reassured her. “You do none of these things. And yet, you achieve their goal with greater acuity than the most accomplished flirt. For you, it is natural, and that makes it all the more alluring.”

His hand came up to touch her cheek with the lightest whisper of touch. Her mind was muddled; she could not think of what she should do in the face of such boldness.

“You have called me a rogue, and I have to admit I have given you cause to suspect as much. But I am no romancer.” He added with a laugh, “And I am no snake charmer.”

“I should not have said that. Catherine is forever chiding me for being too bold.”

“And yet,” he said, “I find it a most endearing quality.” He paused, as if searching for the exact words. “I do not play fast and loose with the ladies, and I am not trying to seduce you, Lily.”

“That is a relief,” Lily said, vaguely disappointed.

“Since you have always been so honest with me, I will return the favor.”

His hand was moving ever so slightly over her cheek and imperceptibly his face seemed to be coming nearer. She fastened her eyes on his mouth.

“I cannot say that I have ever found another to interest me as you do,” he said quietly.

“You say that you are no charmer, but you use flattery well.”

“Is it flattery? I was merely being honest. Honesty can flatter, when it is complimentary. I say neither any falsehood nor do I try to persuade you with my words. I simply want you to know.”

“Then you do not mean for this honesty of yours to draw me to you?” she asked.

“Does it?”

She paused. “You know it does.”

His head lowered, and he said softly, “I am glad,” just before his lips touched hers.

She had never been kissed before. Besides her fantasy heroes, there had never been anyone who would have inspired maidenly dreams of sweet, sweeping love. Therefore, she was sadly unprepared for the deep flare of sensation as Rogan St. Cyr’s lips touched hers.

She couldn’t know how much he held back. He really only brushed his mouth against hers, sensing her inexperience. But for Lily it was an instantaneous leaping of sensation within her, a trembling excitement that sprang up somewhere low in her belly and flowed like molten fire through her limbs. When he made to draw away, she let out a small sound of protest and leaned forward in a motion that told him that he should not retreat, not yet. He obliged, his pleasant chuckle rumbling in his chest as he drew her closer into the tight circle of his arms.

There was no telling what would have followed if not for the shrill sound of Catherine’s voice calling for Lily. It was like a dousing of ice, that voice, and it made Lily start and pull away. She stumbled back, staring wide-eyed at Rogan as if suddenly shocked at what they had done. Her hand came up to her mouth, touching scalded lips in wonder.

She watched as his brows drew down, his expression changed to one of annoyance.

“Lily!” The call came again.