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| © Daniel M. Cisilino | Dreamstime.com |
Excerpt from Bright Scoundrel, copyright Lily Silver 2013
As he walked the perimeter of the
castle inspecting the walls, Kieran noticed a lone figure across the fields on
the rise above the creek separating his property from Ashton Abbey’s lands.
Kieran could see his lovely Rose,
with her artist’s smock and her wide brimmed hat to keep out the bright July
sunshine. She wasn’t seated on her stool, as usual, painting away. She was
standing, her hands on her hips, looking down into the ravine at something. Even from this distance, he could feel something wasn’t right as he
watched her.
A strong presentiment of danger
filled him.
Kieran was ten minutes away, he
figured, by the time it would take to move down the hill on his side of the property
line, cross the stone bridge and climb the low grassy hillside to where her
painting station was situated. He took a short cut down the steep incline
instead of the gradual path created by the road. He moved down the boggy ravine
at a slow pace. The hillside was treacherous if one didn’t move carefully
around the stones and the deep ruts and roots breaking the landscape. Flowers
dotted the soil on either side of the ravine, purple heather. It would make a
lovely landscape painting. Perhaps he should commission her to paint it with
Roisin Dubh Castle in the distant hills. It would make a nice composition.
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| © Walshphotos | Dreamstime.com - Summertime Photo |
He paused, as the continual buzzing
reverberated through the blooming heather bushes. The place was alive with bees
collecting nectar from the fragrant blooms. The sound of angry voices carried
down the ravine. Kieran was near the bottom. He was just about to try to
navigate the small creek bed without getting his boots wet when the disturbance
of human voices, angry voices, caught his attention. He gazed up the bank to where
Rose had stood moments before.
She wasn’t alone any longer, nor
were her hands on her hips. They were pummeling a man, a sizable man with dark
hair who seized her about the waist and was trying to kiss her.
“Stop it, you oaf. I’ll have none
of your drunken pawing.” She sounded more than angry. Rose sounded panicked.
Kieran splashed across the creek,
his boots be damned. He could afford another pair.
“See here, is that any way to treat
me? I help to keep the roof over your head. I should be given a reward in
return.”
Slap!
The raw sound of a palm hitting flesh echoed above. And then the man accosting
Miss de Lacy muttered a foul oath, followed by several others.
“You fucking bitch,” the man
shrieked, incensed by her response.
“Rose,” Kieran shouted. “You there,
leave her be.”
They didn’t hear him. He tried to hurry up the ravine. It was too
steep to run, and filled with potholes, roots and rocks.
“You little tart, you’re coming with me.” the
man bellowed. He seized Rose by the upper arm and made as if to drag her with
him. She fought him but he was stronger. He was dragging her away, over the
hill and down to the next ravine.
“Rose!” Kieran shouted, trying to rush up the steep embankment to
help her. Where was her damned dog? Who was the bastard manhandling her so?
It was no good. He jaunted up the
muddy side and slipped back down. It rained last night. The embankment was wet
and slick.
Damn it. He couldn’t see Rose
anymore. He could hear them shouting at each other.
Kieran had only one weapon at his
disposal, magic. He couldn’t reach her to stop the bully. For all he knew, she was being raped by her
assailant while he wallowed at the bottom of the ravine in his attempt to reach
her. He started chanting, calling upon nature to aid him.
The
bees. It was the perfect weapon. He chanted in Gaelic, asking the bees to
aid him and directing them to attack only the male and not harm the female with
him. He climbed up, up, over a rock, stepping carefully so as not to slip again
and slide down to the bottom of the ravine. His breeches were soaked from his
jaunt through the creek and his slide down the mud slick ravine path.
The steady, thrumming sound of the
busy bees lifted. There was a shift in the air, a queer sort of breeze created
by the mass of tiny insects rising from their labors in a swarm and climbing
the hill above Kieran. Good. They were going to help Rose, hurrying on ahead to
stop the man from hurting the woman he cared for.
* *
*
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| Rose de Lacey |
He'd tried coming into her room again
last night when the household was asleep. She had locked the door, locked him
out. He wasn’t pleased, and so he’d come after her here. His big hands caught
her wrists. Her arms were pinned above her head with one of his. She tried to
rock and kick at him, but he was holding her down with his knees and tugging
her skirts up with his free hand.
“I’ll tell Bridget,” She screamed,
desperate to reach him, to make him see reason.
“Aye, and I’ll tell her you seduced
me. My sister's a dim one, she’ll believe me.”
A dull roar filled her ears, a
peculiar thrumming noise. At first she thought she was imagining it or about to
pass out from sheer terror.
Quinn flinched and released his
hold on her wrists. He swore, and flinched again.
A dark cloud blocked the sun. A
living cloud. Rose screamed, and then covered her face with her arms as the
cloud descended. Bees. A huge swarm had come to settle over them.
Quinn was shrieking. He stood and
started swiping frantically at his face and neck.
Rose peeked out from beneath her
arm. The bees were swarming over him, they were covering him like a living
cloak. His hair was alive with bees. His face was covered by his hands, but his
coat, his neck even his legs were covered with the wriggling, crawling
creatures.
And he was shrieking with pain.
“Rose.” She started, as another
male voice from above called out to her.
Kieran stumbled down the ravine and
nearly fell on her in his desperation to get to her.
“Rose, my dear Rose, are you all
right?” The sound of his worry was beautiful.
She struggled to get up, to right
her skirts. Kieran was beside her in an instant. He knelt down and hugged her
against him. “I couldn’t get up the hill fast enough. Did he hurt you? He’ll
pay if he did, I swear.”
Rose was stunned by his sudden
presence and his strong arms about her as he knelt and hugged her fiercely.
Both of them were wet, soggy from the damp earth. It didn’t matter. Lord Grey
was here and he was holding her close. He was concerned for her.
The shrieks from the man beside
them brought them back to the present. Quinn was dancing a jig and turning
about as he moved up the hill. The bees were still following him and many were clinging
to the back of his coat as he clawed at the wet earth, stumbled and then cursed.
He shrieked every so often, as one of the stingers penetrated his flesh.
Kieran released his hold on Rose
but kept her huddled firmly against him with his left arm. He extended his
right hand toward the fleeing Quinn and started chanting in Gaelic.
Rose didn’t speak Gaelic. Watching
Kieran chant and seeing his blue-green eyes glaze over with fierce determination,
Rose could only shiver as she watched the swarm of bees lift up and away from
Quinn’s fleeing form.
It was inconceivable. The bees were
obeying this man. They lifted up in one great cloud, up and away from their
prey. They moved in perfect formation toward Kieran and Rose.
Rose whimpered and hid her face in the
crook of her elbow.
“Shhh, stay still,” he commanded in
English. “They won’t harm you.”
The massive cloud moved over them,
circling them in a whirlwind and then lifted again, moving up and away, over
the ravine, toward O’Flaherty lands.
She could only gaze up at him with
horror.
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| Kieran O'Flaherty |
The bee in his palm lifted and flew
away. And that warm, strong palm cupped her cheek and began to wipe away her
tears.
“Shhh. Don’t cry. I won’t hurt you.
No one will.”
She felt like a ninny, and yet she
was so distraught she couldn’t stop the frantic tears. She’d never been
accosted by a man before, not like this. Or rescued by one, either. Not a mere
man--a sorcerer, a magician who commanded the birds and the bees. “H-h-how . .
. ?” she stuttered.
“Who was that cur?” Kieran asked.
His hand was stroking up and down her spine as he held her firmly against him.
Her backside was cold. She was cold and wet. She was sitting in the damp grass
and the back of her dress was soaked.
Without a word, he released her and
shrugged out of his coat. He slipped it over her shoulders and then took to
rubbing her arms brusquely.
“I know its July, but the rains
have left you soaked and you’re probably suffering shock. Let’s get you home and
out of these wet clothes.”
“No.” She couldn’t go home. Not
with Quinn there. Suppose he did tell Bridget she tried to seduce him. If so,
she’d be hard pressed to argue with him in her present condition. She wanted to
kill the man. Nay, she’d be sure to kill him next time. She’d not leave the
house again unarmed. She’d not leave the door to her room unlocked in the night
. . . Oh God!
“Oh, my sweet, wilted Rose.” Kieran
whispered. He hugged her close. “I’m here. He won’t hurt you again, I promise.”
She was sobbing, beside
herself with fear. She felt so betrayed. How could she return home with Quinn
there, glaring at her, accusing her, behaving as if she were to blame for his
lack of self control. “I-I can’t go h-home. That was Bridget’s brother. I can’t
go home. Not with him there.”
“Well, then, my mud spattered Rose,
you’ll just have to come home with me.”
He wasn’t smiling when he said it. But his voice, oh, that soft, charming
voice was full of sunshine.
End of Excerpt, Bright Scoundrel, copyright Lily Silver 2013
Thanks for visiting my blog this week. In the future I will be featuring an excerpt from one of my books every two weeks.
Bright Scoundrel is available on Amazon.com
End of Excerpt, Bright Scoundrel, copyright Lily Silver 2013
Thanks for visiting my blog this week. In the future I will be featuring an excerpt from one of my books every two weeks.
