emotions smoked in his head. "Why would you trust him so after all we've been through?" he asked, and fought to stand up. Once on his feet, he found that his leg burned only slightly more than the fires of hell.
"You're mad," she said, and stumbled to her feet.
Liam took a single step, felt the strength drain from his injured leg, and tumbled toward the water like a stringless marionette. But he had no wish to look like a weak-kneed fool, so he grappled wildly, searching for something to hold on to.
Her skirt was the only thing available. He snagged his fingers in it as he fell.
With a small shriek, she toppled down beside him.
They sat in the water face-to-face, panting, half-drowned. Nevertheless, Liam could not help but notice certain things. Firstly, her cape had disappeared. Secondly, her cap was gone, spilling her hair in wild disarray. Thirdly, and most importantly, her gown had been ripped down the front, exposing one shoulder and the high, pale rise of her right breast.
"Is this the sort of view that kept Davin so close to your side?" he asked.
"What are you..." she began, but in a moment she realized where his attention lay."Sweet Mary!" she rasped, and lifting a hand, tried to scrape up enough fabric to cover herself. It was pretty much a hopeless endeavor.
And despite everything, the pain in his leg, their present state of hopelessness, her wrath, he couldn't help but chuckle.
"Get on your feet," she growled.
To his mild surprise, he managed to do just that. His leg throbbed and his head spun, but one glance at her haughty expression cranked up the devil in him. "Hell of a ride, wasn't it?" he asked.
Lightning streaked through an ebony sky, and a half-mile away the falls roared. "We'd best find some kind of shelter or the night won't be as pleasant as the journey."
"Mayhap you've a bonny house close to hand."
"Certainly," he said. Pain was crashing through his leg. Unconsciousness seemed a pleasant diversion, if somewhat cowardly. "But I thought you might prefer my castle. The solar is quite lovely in the—"
"Shut up," she said. "And let me..." Her words stopped midsentence.
"What?" Liam braced himself and jerked his attention to the right, then the left, ready to do battle, to brave the dragons and face the foes. But no foes caught his attention. He realized quite suddenly that she was staring directly into his face. He stared back. "What is it?" he asked warily.
He watched her lips move. But finally she shook her head. "Tis nothing," she said.
"Nothing?"
"I remember..." she whispered, then paused as if confused. "Something."
He canted his head at her. She was watching him with a strange expression, as if she were seeing things that weren't really there, as if...
Back on the ferry! He'd said he loved her. Had gasped out that foolish declaration as if it were truth. But that's when he'd been lulled into thinking they would both die and she'd have no chance to bludgeon him to death with his own idiotic words.
How was he to know he'd be unlucky enough to live through such an experience? What kind of God would allow that?
"Rachel," he said, drawing back a scant few inches and preparing to deny everything, to conjure up his best lies and stand behind them until death. "You were scared out of your wits back there. I doubt if you remember much."
"There's a shelter not far from here," she murmured.
He wouldn't have been more surprised if she'd said she'd left her winged mount tied to the sun.
"What?"
She shook her head. "I...remember it."
"You've been here before?" he asked dubiously.
"Nay." Her tone was wrought with uncertainty.
Reality dawned on him. He scoffed softly. "If you're about to conjure up a castle, you'd best have at it. Otherwise, you can save your witchy act for the peasants."
She snapped from her trance, exhaled shakily, and managed a glare all in one quick motion.
"Were I able to conjure up anything, I'd design a gag," she said, and turning away from him, strode quickly
"You're mad," she said, and stumbled to her feet.
Liam took a single step, felt the strength drain from his injured leg, and tumbled toward the water like a stringless marionette. But he had no wish to look like a weak-kneed fool, so he grappled wildly, searching for something to hold on to.
Her skirt was the only thing available. He snagged his fingers in it as he fell.
With a small shriek, she toppled down beside him.
They sat in the water face-to-face, panting, half-drowned. Nevertheless, Liam could not help but notice certain things. Firstly, her cape had disappeared. Secondly, her cap was gone, spilling her hair in wild disarray. Thirdly, and most importantly, her gown had been ripped down the front, exposing one shoulder and the high, pale rise of her right breast.
"Is this the sort of view that kept Davin so close to your side?" he asked.
"What are you..." she began, but in a moment she realized where his attention lay."Sweet Mary!" she rasped, and lifting a hand, tried to scrape up enough fabric to cover herself. It was pretty much a hopeless endeavor.
And despite everything, the pain in his leg, their present state of hopelessness, her wrath, he couldn't help but chuckle.
"Get on your feet," she growled.
To his mild surprise, he managed to do just that. His leg throbbed and his head spun, but one glance at her haughty expression cranked up the devil in him. "Hell of a ride, wasn't it?" he asked.
Lightning streaked through an ebony sky, and a half-mile away the falls roared. "We'd best find some kind of shelter or the night won't be as pleasant as the journey."
"Mayhap you've a bonny house close to hand."
"Certainly," he said. Pain was crashing through his leg. Unconsciousness seemed a pleasant diversion, if somewhat cowardly. "But I thought you might prefer my castle. The solar is quite lovely in the—"
"Shut up," she said. "And let me..." Her words stopped midsentence.
"What?" Liam braced himself and jerked his attention to the right, then the left, ready to do battle, to brave the dragons and face the foes. But no foes caught his attention. He realized quite suddenly that she was staring directly into his face. He stared back. "What is it?" he asked warily.
He watched her lips move. But finally she shook her head. "Tis nothing," she said.
"Nothing?"
"I remember..." she whispered, then paused as if confused. "Something."
He canted his head at her. She was watching him with a strange expression, as if she were seeing things that weren't really there, as if...
Back on the ferry! He'd said he loved her. Had gasped out that foolish declaration as if it were truth. But that's when he'd been lulled into thinking they would both die and she'd have no chance to bludgeon him to death with his own idiotic words.
How was he to know he'd be unlucky enough to live through such an experience? What kind of God would allow that?
"Rachel," he said, drawing back a scant few inches and preparing to deny everything, to conjure up his best lies and stand behind them until death. "You were scared out of your wits back there. I doubt if you remember much."
"There's a shelter not far from here," she murmured.
He wouldn't have been more surprised if she'd said she'd left her winged mount tied to the sun.
"What?"
She shook her head. "I...remember it."
"You've been here before?" he asked dubiously.
"Nay." Her tone was wrought with uncertainty.
Reality dawned on him. He scoffed softly. "If you're about to conjure up a castle, you'd best have at it. Otherwise, you can save your witchy act for the peasants."
She snapped from her trance, exhaled shakily, and managed a glare all in one quick motion.
"Were I able to conjure up anything, I'd design a gag," she said, and turning away from him, strode quickly
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