ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One by Julie Harvey Delcourt Page B

she had no choice
    “He asked me to be his mistress tonight.  Right off!  Not five minutes back and he offered me the carte blanche .  No apology, no remorse, just “come be my mistress” like I should fall at his feet,” anger and outrage were so much easier than all the other feelings his return had stirred up. “Is that the action of a ‘good lad’ as you called him?”
    “Now, now.  There’s always two sides to every story and I know you. 
    You’ve had years to stew about this and you were never born to be a saint.  What Nanny wants to know is what you did to cause him to make you an improper offer,” Nanny eyed her shrewdly eye to eye.
    Jessy felt a flush creep up her fair skin.
    “I’m not talking about that.”
    “Ha! As I thought! You let your temper get the best of you.  You may look all polished with the town bronze on you these days and perfectly mannered, but the heart of a person rarely changes.  You have your parents’ fire and recklessness and it always will lead to trouble. Headstrong is what you are.”
    The word parents, plural, caught Jessy’s attention.
    “But papa was completely mild mannered.  He used to tease mama all the time about her hair and what he called her summer storm temper. He most certainly was not reckless.”  While he had died in a riding accident, it hadn’t been due to riding neck or nothing.  It had been a freak accident that had taken her father away less than a two weeks after Sebastian left her.  That had been a month of pure hell.
    Nanny’s face had taken on a frozen quality and she avoided Jessy’s eyes, making a sudden production of tidying away hair pins, lotions and brushes.
    “Nanny,” Jessy made her voice as ominous as years of acting could make it, “what have you not told me about Papa?”
    “Oh now we are all a bit reckless and wild when young are we not lamb? Who’s to say your father was any different?” and she turned to pick up the evening dress off the bed with straight lips and a closed face.  It was a look that had always said she was done talking.
                 

CHAPTER NINE
     
    The wind had kicked up strongly and the long cape he wore snapped and cracked around his long frame.  With a hat pulled low on his brow it was difficult to make out his features.  A small group of men clearly armed to the teeth and on edge stood in a half circle on the beach.  It was their duty to protect the caped man and each was prepared to give their life for him.  They had not come this far and waited all these years to fail now through a lack of vigilance.  
    The enemy could be anywhere and, while not likely that Ulrich’s spies would yet have caught wind of his enemy’s return from the dead, it was not impossible.  They were more worried the Gooar would know of Conal’s return to ‘life’ by now.  They would be safer to assume the news was out and keep their guard up and weapons ready.
    The ship, with Ciara Govannon at the helm, was still a shadow against the horizon.  She had said she would not leave until she knew him safely delivered.  After the days on board with her he felt a renewed confidence in this endeavor.  His band of old friends and her own crew were a tough lot and Ciara, as well as Gavin, had taken turns training with him.  He had needed it after not handling a sword in so many years.  
    Gavin he had expected to beat him easily to start, but the cat like reflexes, unyielding determination and skill of Ciara had left bruises on him after their first few encounters.  That woman wielded a sword like it was part of her own arm and with the swiftness of her own thoughts.  Conal could tell that, as much as she relished her mission, she was eager to return home to Celtica. She had stepped into her father’s shoes with her coming of age and worried leaving the rebels too long without her needed presence.
    She was also sick with concern for her sister Caitlin.  She had yet to find a way to rescue her