< previous page page_259 next page >

Page 259
"I mark that match a draw and call a brief truce," Ian stated, holding his hand like a referee judging a bout of fencing. "Now let us go in before a new engagement begins. Your mother will be delighted, Simon. I could tell her nothing of Lady Rhiannon, only having seen her as a child. Alinor has been imagining that you took advantage of some poor, shy, innocent maiden who normally hid herself in the dark corners of the women's hall."
He led them in, retaining his grip on Rhiannon as if he realized that the clan gathered in Roselynde would be somewhat overwhelming to a stranger. As he introduced her around, her eyes grew larger and larger. Although she teased Simon about his lack of modesty, she was well aware that he was not nearly as vain as he might have been, considering his really astonishing beauty of face and form. Now she knew why.
Rhiannon was called a beauty, but here she felt like an ugly duckling. Alinor was old; nonetheless the bones of her face showed beautiful still, and her eyes were like Simon's, filled with dancing lights of gold and green. Gilliane, Joanna, and Sybelle were breathtaking, the first darkly glowing, the second a blazing flame, and the youngest golden and perfect as the sun.
Of the men, Simon was perhaps now the most beautiful because of Ian's age, but Adam was not far behind. He was more massive than Simon, like a great wall, except that he emanated the same feeling of leashed power. He was as handsome as Alinor must have been beautiful when she was young, and he, too, had her eyes. Rhiannon's gaze rested on Geoffrey, and she felt a marked sense of kinship. He was the only one who was not a model for some god. His lips twitched with amusement and understanding, and his eyes glowed golden.
"Do not let it trouble you," he murmured in her ear. "They do not even realize what they do to people all together like this."

 
< previous page page_259 next page >