Enchant: Beauty and the Beast Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale #1)(21)
The lady's voice cut through his daydream. "You have the most peculiar smile on your face. Is there something special about this place, that it should inflame you with such love?"
You, Vardan thought but didn't say as he felt blood heat his cheeks. He doubted she would see it, though, for beasts did not blush.
"Yes," he said finally. "This is where I show you how one man with the knowledge of secret pirate bases can win against them all." He swung down from his horse, indicating that she should do the same. "We'll go on foot from here."
Lady Belle slid down gracefully, her boots barely making a sound as they landed on the windswept rock. The salt wind kept the cliffs free of snow through all but the coldest winters. "To where, precisely?" She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
What was it about her hair that distracted him so? Vardan shook his head. "Why, to the pirates' lair, of course." He laughed at her puzzled expression, and drew her to the very edge of the cliffs so he could point. "The cliffs along the northern side of the island are riddled with caves just like that one. And for a long time, pirates used these to store their stolen cargo. Some are even big enough to sail a ship inside."
"Truly?" Her eyes danced.
"Truly," he replied. "I will show you." He took her hand and pulled her to the very brink on the cliff.
Lady Belle balked, much like Embarr did when faced with the ocean waves. The horse nibbled at some of the hardy plants that had sprouted between the rocks, unconcerned, as her mistress dug her heels in with astonishing strength. "Unless you can fly, your Highness, there is no way you're taking me over that cliff. I like living, thank you."
He sighed. Reluctantly, he released her hand. "There are steps. See?" Vardan stepped over the edge and down the first three stone steps, worn smooth by wind, wave and the passage of many feet.
She blinked in surprise. "Down the entire cliffside?" Lady Belle swallowed, her eyes wide. "I may need your arm after all." Her hand was warm as she grasped his.
Vardan brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly without thinking. Thank heaven she didn't pull away before he realised his mistake. "My apologies, Lady Belle."
"No need to apologise. I may not be accustomed to descending from clifftops, but I rarely require a man's arm to walk." She proceeded to demonstrate that she was as surefooted as her horse as she followed Vardan down the winding steps to the cave.
The steps ended at a narrow stone ledge which at high tide was washed by the waves. Now, it was simply damp with spray and strewn with seaweed thrown up in the last storm. And slippery. "Be careful here, Lady Belle," he said, glancing behind to make sure she did not lose her footing. She'd hoisted her skirts a little to better see her feet, but Vardan glimpsed a shapely ankle and found himself longing to see more. Perhaps even the naked maiden of his dreams.
His trod hard on a piece of seaweed, and his foot shot forward, throwing him backward into her arms. His face ended up pressed against her breast for one delightful moment before he came to his senses and righted himself, repeating his profuse apologies.
Lady Belle did not seem inclined to forgive him. "As you say, Vardan. Do be careful." She did not take his hand again.
Sighing, he led the way.
Twenty-Six
It was panic that made her heart beat wildly when Vardan fell against her, Zuleika told herself. With his face pressed against her breast, he probably heard it through all the layers of fabric between them. The flush of heat she'd felt was mortification at being so close to a man, a man who looked like he did under the curse, as she well knew.
And there was a tingle of something more when he touched her, too. Something magical, that had nothing to do with being touched by a man. The magic that hummed so powerfully through him felt familiar, as though it liked her. She'd never felt anything like it. Magic didn't have feelings, or preferences for people. Yet each spell contained a little of the essence of its caster, because it was the caster's blood that fuelled the spell. Each essence was as individual as the caster, and this…this was not new to her. She must know the witch who had cursed Vardan.
Except that she didn't know many witches, particularly one whose magic was so dark it had no colour at all except black, for this curse appeared like a shadow across the island. The few witches she had met in her travels were mostly enslaved djinn, whose magic she'd needed to undo. Their magic naturally recognised her as an adversary, and buzzed with alarm at her approach. Vardan's curse seemed to hum with welcome.
No witch had ever welcomed her. Except her mother, of course, but her mother had lain in her grave these six years at least. Longer than Vardan had been cursed, so she couldn't have cast this enchantment.
Zuleika's hands itched to touch the prince again, to investigate the curse upon him more thoroughly. She forced her arms to stay by her sides. He was no different to his brother, and being overly familiar with him would not turn out well. She did not want to touch a man, nor have him touch her. Ever.
She ducked under a low overhang and stepped into darkness.
Steel scraped across flint, and a moment later a torch flared into life. Instead of orange, this flame was the colour of bluebells.
"More magic?" Zuleika asked.
Vardan's eyes seemed to glow in the firelight. "We have no witches on the island, and none who are generous enough to use their magic to light the caves. Had we even a single witch, I would have asked her to help break the curse. No, these are driftwood torches, soaked in salt water. 'Tis the salt that burns blue." Vardan eyed her suspiciously. "Why such fear for magic, Lady Belle? Do you suffer from a curse, too?"