Untamed Read Free Page B

crew. Are they all at the bottom of the sea?
    Trystan leaned an elbow on the low bed and pitched about getting his feet beneath him. I must discover what has happened. Head spinning, he managed to sweep the coverlet out of the way so that he could stand straight. So weak . A whistle sounded. His head snapped up, bringing a fresh groan of regret for such precipitous action.
    The gray terrier responded enthusiastically. The dog raced joyfully toward her mistress.
    “Athena!” Trystan heard and a sensual shiver raced down his spine. “Did you guard him well, girl?”
    “She did,” he replied, turning to look for the voice’s owner. He blinked in the late morning sunlight. When his eyes adjusted, she had gone.
    “Where are you?” Trystan cried, and then clutched one hand to his head in agony. “Never mind.”
    When he could manage to look about once more, Trystan saw a tray sitting on the ground not ten feet away. A bowl of table scraps sitting in the long grass beside the tray was being quickly devoured by Athena. Trystan stumbled to the tray, fell to his knees, and managed to bring the pitcher of milk to his mouth. Eagerly he drank the warm sweet liquid.
     
    Desarae peeked out from behind a vigorous blossoming apple tree, her eyes drinking in the sight of the man. The rough trunk dug into her palms as she pressed against it, her breath anxious, excited and coming fast through parted lips. How his presence thrilled her!
    Her uncle’s nightshirt came only to his knees, revealing bulging calf muscles as he crouched down. His golden hair curled loosely around a strong, tanned face and down over his collar. His dark blond eyebrows bowed agreeably over azure eyes
    “` Why so pale and wan, fond lover?’ ” she said, heeding not the breeze that carried her words to the man not fifteen feet from her. “`Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can’t move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?’ ”
     
    Trystan stilled, entranced by the low words. He waited in vain for the watcher to continue the familiar quote but when she remained silent, he spoke aloud, not turning toward her for fear she would flit away again.
    “ `Why so dull and mute, young sinner?’ ” he quoted from Suckling. “ `Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can’t win her, Saying nothing do’t? Prithee, why so mute?’ ” He waited once more, his shoulders taut, his manner anxious. Her reply came from further away.
    “ `Quit, quit, for shame; this will not move, This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!’ ” was her laughing reply.
    Trystan spun on his heel, searching the orchard for her. A scrap of light blue material drew his eye and he rose to his feet and then almost fell to the ground as a bout of dizziness seized him. “Damn,” he whispered, taking only a step or two until the unsteadiness passed.
    He entered the orchard, ducking beneath branches laden with brilliant white and pink blossoms, Athena barking at his heels. A delight-filled ripple came from the left and he raced after the sound, only to be brought up short by a boulder sitting in the middle of the orchard.
    Wait, not a boulder, Trystan puzzled. He squatted down and brushed some dead leaves to the side. A rather ancient tortoise carved in green veined marble, looked out at him from under the rim of his shell. Perched upon his back, with feet carefully fitted into tiny holes so he wouldn’t fall over, was a wood carving of a jay. His head was cocked to one side.
    Trystan paused to run a finger down the smooth lines of the weathered wood. What was this peculiar place? Where am I? A soft laugh caused his head to jerk up and he searched again for the woman who spoke like some insubstantial sprite.
    “ `Stillest stream—,’ ” she quoted.
    Cowper, Trystan thought, recognizing the author. Before she could complete the quote, he called out: “ `Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird That flutters