The Waterlord by Dawn Thompson

By Dawn Thompson

Girl Rebecca’s existence replaced perpetually within the blink of a watch. One second she was once fleeing her father throughout a storm-swept Bodmin Moor; within the subsequent, her carriage overturned on a steep gorge. yet she didn't die. by some means, she was once pulled clear.

Safety, her rescuer promised. yet how may perhaps Becca suppose secure? there has been an eerie luminosity approximately him, a fluid silver air of mystery just like the lightning filling the evening. And whereas his voice used to be deep, mellow—comforting, just like the song a move made whereas speeding over pebbles—it, too, held a touch of the otherworldly. Who used to be this unusual savior, this displaced international nobleman who provided up his domestic and didn't want her to depart? lengthy moonlit walks to the within sight waterfall, tight-lipped servants, a kiss in contrast to the other: every little thing concerning the count number was once an enigma. Becca had heard myths of the Fossegrim: creatures pushed to discover ecstasy with human girls after which vanish without end. From their international, people by no means back. This guy, Becca used to be prepared to follow.

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The sunlight streaming through the window hurt her eyes. It couldn't have been a dream. But if it wasn't, how was it that the sun was shining when she had gone below at midnight? Could she have been so long in the forest? And how had she gotten back to this chair? Her mind was blank. She couldn't remember. She wasn't given long to dwell upon it. She'd barely stretched her stiff limbs when Ulla entered from the dressing room, a bundle of fresh linen in her arms. The girl pulled up short and stared.

Klaus was moving toward it. The chaise. It was. She blinked, and it was gone. Klaus had disappeared as well, and so had the eerie little lights that had flickered about him. Could it be the Will-o'-the-Wisp of her nursery tales that she was seeing? Impossible! She could not credit superstition. Had she imagined it all? No. A moment ago he was there and now he wasn't, plain and simple. The mist had vanished as well, showing her a clear path. It only took a moment for her to decide, before she began scrambling over the moss-clad rocks to the edge of the river below, where seconds ago the broken chaise had rested.

I assure you not. You are too charming. It has been some time since I have so enjoyed the company of one so—how shall I say—unassuming? I believe that is the word I seek… at least, the only word I dare say to express myself. " "It is most definitely that and then some, my lord," said Becca. The heat rising in her cheeks narrowed her eyes. She could only imagine their color, which made matters worse. He was about to reply when the appearance of a liveried footman in the breakfast room doorway turned their heads.

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