Shattered Vows Read Free

Sir Geoffrey Fitz Neal.
    Geoffrey would taunt him if he could see how easily a pair of smiling rosy lips had entranced him. With such ammunition, his cousin’s baiting would know no bounds. The thought of Geoffrey’s mocking face as he had last seen it, laughing with his fellows, twisted Oliver’s stomach into an angry knot. The stallion at his side shifted, dragging a hoof through the sand. No, he’d bury his anger, forget his cousin for a while, and enjoy the company of the miller’s daughter.
    She must have picked up on his flare of anger for she had stepped back, and taken her bottom lip between her teeth. She looked timid, even frightened.
    Firmly, Oliver banished the fury from his mind and eyes. He found a smile and watched, bemused, as her eyes lit up. Mon Dieu , if he didn’t watch out for her, a less scrupulous man might come upon her and...
    She wasn’t fit to be abroad on her own if she smiled at every man she met in such a fashion – particularly on May Day.
    He would see her safe till eventide and return her to the mill. Knowing Osric Miller’s reputation, her father would be out enjoying the festival, there would be no-one at the mill to keep an eye on her until later tonight. Tomorrow the girl would be safely back at work, thankfully she’d be too busy to be wandering unprotected all over the countryside.
    Today she would be safe – with him.
    ***
    ‘I love these little stones,’ Rosamund said, pointing at the broken rocks and shingle brought down by the cliff fall. ‘I spend hours here when I can get away. I collect them.’ She spoke slowly – she was making a fair attempt to mimic his mode of speech.
    Oliver looked askance at the untidy heap of rocks. ‘What, these?’
    She laughed. ‘Oh, not just any old stone. The special ones.’
    ‘Of course,’ Oliver smiled, he supposed he ought to humour her. It was such a waste of a pretty maid...
    ‘No, no,’ she surprised him by saying. ‘I can see you don’t understand. Look.’ Catching his hand, she pulled him over to the nearest pile of rubble. She bent and began to sort through the small stones, setting a few to one side.
    Oliver sat back on his heels and watched her, sifting sand through his fingers. Rosamund’s rich, earthy beauty fascinated him almost as much as her smile. At times, she had the bearing of a queen. Rich, golden-brown hair flowed about her shoulders and down her back, a shiny mass swaying in the wind. The elbows of the pink gown were darned and she had pushed up the sleeves to reveal delicate, feminine arms. He wanted to touch them, but instead he sifted through the sand and watched the way her work-scarred but nimble fingers picked out a few particular stones. He could see little to distinguish the ones she had chosen from the ones she had rejected. Such a pity...
    ‘Look.’ She held out a grey stone. ‘No, really look at it. I don’t believe you even glanced at it.’
    Obediently, he took the stone from her palm, dropping his eyes from hers. The stone was about an inch wide, almost round. Clearly marked across its surface was a ridged pattern in a spiral shape.
    Their eyes met over the stone.
    ‘You see! There are lots like this. You have to search hard to find them, but once you know where to look, there are dozens, just waiting to be found.’
    Oliver reached past her and chose another stone, a tiny one, from her collection. It had the same markings, like a spiral. As did they all. It was merely the size that varied. So there was some method in it...
    ‘There’s a story...’ she hesitated, flushing.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘The village priest – Father Cedric – told it to me before he died, it’s an ancient story. It goes back to the days before the Sea Raiders came.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘It’s only a tale for children, I’ve been told I shouldn’t listen to such...’ Rosamund hesitated, but Oliver’s smile was encouraging. That chipped front tooth was visible, she found it oddly attractive. This strong young