Overwhelmed by the visions, Andras felt himself harden. His breath was ragged. He raked a hand through his hair. What was happening to him? He had never before experienced anything like his growing obsession with the princess. Perhaps the abbot was correct. His eyes narrowed so that the silver glow that stained them was almost unde-tectable. Sorceress or not, she was only a woman. When she belonged to him, he would purge the pagan taint from her soul, then he would satisfy his desire for her. She had no choice.

"Thank you," CC whispered as soon as tltey were out of range of Andras's hearing. "He doesn't seem to be able to take no for an answer."

"You are most welcome, but you must realize that few women would tell Sir Andras no," Isabel whispered back. "Are you quite certain that is your desire?"

"Absolutely. I don't want a husband who has to rule over and control me."

"So you have said before, but I still believe that there are few men of any other kind." Isabel looked closely at her. "At least not in this world."

"If there's not, I won't have any husband at all. I'm a human being, not a piece of property."

"So young and headstrong," Isabel clucked.

"Where I'm from we call it having good sense and a backbone."

Isabel's look was clearly disbelieving.

They were halfway across the voluminous gardens before CC noticed how murky the day had become.

"Is it really that late? It looks like the sun is setting already."

"It is late for your midday meal, but the sun is not yet setting. There is a storm coming." Isabel squinted up at the rolling clouds. "It is odd, normally my leg warns me of a Storm long before I see clouds. Today it did not. It is almost as if the change of weather was suddenly conjured."

Not wanting to travel down that line of thinking, CC asked, "What happened to your leg?"

Isabel looked surprised at the question, but she answered without hesitation. "I was born with a twisted limb. My fa-ther wanted to dispose of me on the hillside, but I was the only girl child my mother had born, and she was quite old. She would not part with me."

CC was shocked at the matter-of-fact way Isabel spoke of something so horrifying.

"That's awful."

"A girl child with a twisted limb is of no use. My father knew no man would marry me." Isabel shrugged. "It is a blessing that I have a certain skill with cooking. When my youngest brother's beautiful wife gave birth to their fifth healthy child, she said there was no room for a crippled sister in their home. My other brothers felt the same. It was fortuitous that the monastery needed a cook. They took me in. I have been here since."

"Do you ever see your family?"

Isabel shook her head. "My mother and father are long dead, and my brothers do not visit. My family is here."

"The monks?" CC asked.

Isabel cackled and patted her hand. "Goodness no! The other women. We are all each other's only family now."

"I don't really have any family here, either," CC said.

Isabel paused on the threshold to the kitchen, where homey smells and sounds enveloped them. She turned to CC and smiled warmly at the younger woman.

"You do now, Princess."

CC paced and paced and paced. She had already pulled the dresser under the window. For what felt like the zillionth time she hitched up her chemise and climbed on top of it. She studied the fading evening. Gaea's clouds were rolling in from the west, directly over the tumultuous ocean. They were low-hanging and reminded CC of a giant gray comforter being pulled over the sky. The setting sun was certainly obscured, but was it dark enough yet? She didn't think so. She could still see most of the way down the side of the cliff, which meant if anyone happened to be looking seaward, they would be able to see her if she was making her way down the side of that cliff. And she couldn't be sure that Andras wouldn't be looking seaward after the fishermen had aroused suspicion in him.

CC sighed and rubbed her temples. It seemed her heart pounded there in time with the distant crashing of the surf. Her body was a throbbing shell of need; she ached for the waters and for her lover.Dylan. Just thinking his name sent a shiver of anticipation low in her stomach.

Patience, she told herself firmly. Just a few more minutes and it'll be dark enough. She turned and sat on top of the dresser, resting her head against the windowsill. She'd lasted this long, she could certainly wait a little longer.

At first the day had felt like it would never end, so CC had been shocked when the Brothers began filling the chapel for vespers, and she realized that it must be late evening. Quietly, she had piled her cleaning supplies in a shadowed corner, wiped her hands on her very grimy robes and slipped out the side entrance before Abbot William or Andras could accost her.

She had stopped at the kitchen long enough to grab another bowl of Isabel's excellent stew and a goblet of wine. The ladies were at their busiest, cleaning up the evening meal and beginning preparations for the next day. It took some doing, but she persuaded Isabel that she really didn't need any help bathing and undressing. The old woman obviously didn't like it, but when CC promised that she really just wanted to get out of her dirty clothes and crawl into bed, Isabel acquiesced, assuring CC that she would make her excuses to Andras.

CC knew that the circles under her eyes had darkened to bruises; the need inside her was making her feel weak and nauseous. But after she had washed the filth from her body, she forced herself to eat all of the stew and drink the entire goblet of wine. The wrenching ache was still there, but a full stomach made her feel less nauseous and dizzy.

A sound turned her attention back to the view outside the window. CC smiled. "Thank you, Gaea," she said.

Rain was falling in the comforting patter of a gentle mist, swallowing the last of the evening light. Quickly, CC sat on the windowsill, found her toehold, and dropped quietly to the soft grass below the window. Gaea's rain was a cool caress against her feverish skin, and for a moment she stood on the edge of the cliff with her arms held straight out and her head thrown back, letting the water of the goddess soothe her body and soul. Keeping the image of Dylan's dive from the side of the cliff in her mind, she balled up her chemise with one hand so that her long legs were free to run, then she moved with unerring certainty down the winding sheep path.

Dylan! She used all of her mental strength to call to him. I'm coming! Please be there!

Rocky ground gave way to sand and she ran to her familiar log, pulling off her shift with shaking hands. She kicked off her slippers and hurried to the shoreline. When her feet touched the water she paused, suddenly unsure.

"Do not make me wait, my love." Dylan's voice carried over the waves, surreal and disembodied.

"I can't see you." At the sound of his voice, CC's breath caught and her stomach tightened.

"But I can see you. You are a white goddess of beauty, fashioned of long, curving lines and softness. Come to me, my goddess," Dylan said.

With two quick steps CC ran and leapt, diving into the surf. Before her outstretched hands touched the water she felt the exquisite burning begin at her waist and shoot down through her legs. A rush of power followed the burning as the inhuman strength of her tail propelled her forward and then up. She broke the surface laughing.

The merman materialized out of the mist in front of her. Tonight his long, dark hair was free, and it fell in a thick, damp wave around his shoulders. Dylan's exotic beauty and the erotic sense of maleness that surrounded him struck her, and she felt a thrill of excitement at his nearness. He drifted close.

"I have missed you, Christine."