“Could we have lucked upon more hospitable folks?” Roland replied. “They’re happy in their simple lives.”
“It’s a good omen,” Terric added. “When we confided our mission, they wished us well. Even in this remote corner of England, John is despised.”
As Adrien and Terric took up their positions, Roland eyed the ballooning sail. “Two more days of this wind and we should make landfall in Ireland. Don’t despair, Adelina,” he said softly. “We’re coming.”
When the Cornish coast was but a memory and hours of open sea lay ahead, Roland’s thirst to learn more about Adelina took hold of his tongue. “Tell me about your sister,” he said to Terric who was manning the tiller.
“She’s sweet,” came the uninformative reply.
“Spoken like a typical brother,” Roland said. “Tell me what she looks like.”
For the first time, Terric took his eyes off the dark waters of the Celtic Sea. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” Roland lied. “After all, I have to be able to recognize her so I don’t rescue the wrong woman.”
Terric justifiably eyed him with suspicion. “You’ll know her. There isn’t a fairer lass in all of England.”
Roland should have kept silent, but he persisted. “She’s blonde then?”
“Aye. Her golden tresses flowed down to her waist last time I saw her.”
Roland reached for the side of the galley when a jolt of arousal knocked him off balance. “I can’t wait to meet her,” he rasped.