LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Six

      Enguerrand made the announcement that night at dinner, standing without preamble and roaring for the entire hall to hush and attend him.

      Rogan was surprised to note the thrill of excitement go through him. He had not had a chance to speak to Lily today. They had only exchanged glances, hers shy but unable to hide her pleasure. He was, surprisingly, anxious to speak with her and impatient to know her reaction to their impending marriage.

      Enguerrand called out, “Listen up, all and everyone! I have an important announcement.” The noise dimmed. Rogan caught Catherine’s eye and was surprised to see the glimmer of triumph there. His stomach clenched as he realized she thought the announcement would be of her marriage to Rogan.

      Damn Enguerrand, the old fool!

      And if Catherine had not been apprised of the change in her plan, then it stood to reason that Lily was likewise uninformed. He whipped his head around to watch her as Enguerrand said, “Rogan St. Cyr has requested the hand of my daughter, Lily…”

      His voice faded, and Catherine was forgotten, for as the words descended, Rogan could only stare at his wife-to-be.

      The naked emotion on her face attested to her ignorance of the arrangements that had been made that day for her future. Her features registered shock, quickly replaced by a look of purest joy as she swung toward him in disbelief. Her clear eyes, such a singular shade of blue-green, opened round and wide and looked like brilliant bits of aquamarine.

      Rogan felt something inside of him twist in an oddly pleasant way. Good God, if he had ever had a moment’s doubt about the matter, it was put to rest as he smiled at Lily. He had never seen her look so exquisite. And he had never felt so sure of anything, he reflected. He rose and held out his hand. She fairly beamed as she stood and allowed her father to place her slim hand in his palm.

      They turned together with stiff formality to receive the congratulations of the others. Bracing himself, Rogan saw Catherine was to be the first. But she merely stood rigid, lips pulled taut and eyes smoldering with tightly checked rage. “Congratulations, Lily. Rogan,” she said before turning away. Elspeth rushed forward and flung herself in Lily’s arms, distracting her, and Rogan turned to face the smirking face of his brother.

      “That went well enough,” Andrew said. “And so, I congratulate you. May happiness be yours. And may the dour face of misfortune—” this with a surreptitious glance at Catherine “—be stayed.”

      The minstrels stuck up a gay tune and the wine flowed freely. Rogan wished he could steal Lily away, speak to her alone, but the castle women surrounded her now, chattering wildly in excitement. She kept peering at him with the pleasure she was too ingenuous to hide. There would be time enough to talk privately. He would see to it.

      As for Catherine, he saw no more of her that night. But though it was a relief for the moment, an uneasy feeling would not leave him alone. She was not done with him yet. He felt it.

      Lily sped down the perilous path along the cliff face to the tiny stretch of beach below. Beyond was the quay, with its neat rows of fishing boats bobbing on the sun-splashed sea. She was late.

      Across the strand she ran, her skirts hiked up, kicking sprays of sand out behind her. The docks were busy with men unloading the day’s catch onto long carts while women picked over the piles of fish to make their selections before the crop was brought to market. Children weaved daringly among them, finding games to amuse themselves while their parents attended their chores.

      Pushing through the throng, Lily hurried to the wharf. She spied Rogan in one of the small boats. He looked unperturbed enough at her tardiness, reclining on the edge of the hull, one knee drawn up upon which he rested an arm.

      She realized after a moment that she had been holding her breath. He looked casual, so at ease lounging thusly in the sun-kissed afternoon, that she had simply forgotten to breathe.

      “Hello,” she called, “I am sorry to be late.”

      “No bother.” He raised a challenging brow. “I was thinking you might be having second thoughts.”

      The effect was utterly charming, a slight mockery adding a sparkle to her eyes. She was feeling a bit giddy at the glow of pleasure that stole through her body.

      Cocking a hand on her hip, she said, “You think me a coward, do you?”

      “Not at all, but,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the vast horizon where pale azure met deep aquamarine, “the sea can be intimidating.”

      She hesitated. It was true, she was more than a bit daunted at the prospect of sailing for the first time, but any trepidations she had were completely overridden by the excitement of being with Rogan, alone.

      “Come on board, then,” he dared. Gingerly she stepped over the bulkhead, wavering a moment at the sway of the deck. Rogan was on his feet in an instant, moving forward with uncanny balance. He reached out strong arms to hold her steady. When he did not release her right away, she gave him a sheepish look. He was grinning down at her, so close she could see that in the sunlight, his eyes appeared dark, slate blue with flecks of gray.

      “It will take a while to get your sea legs,” he murmured. It was a perfectly neutral statement, yet he made it sound like an endearment

      “I think you should know I cannot swim.”

      Rogan chuckled. “I am an experienced seaman. And have I not already proved my competence to save you from the perils of water? Now, sit here and I will lead us out.”

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