Crystalline, p.1
Crystalline, page 1
Crystalline: A Waterlore Romance Copyright ©2024 by Undine Press.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher or author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other noncommercial use permitted by U.S. copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Resemblance to actual persons and things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Published by: Undine Press
Character design by: Dawn Davidson
Cover design by: Riona Beck
For those of you reclaiming what is yours.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
More from Riona Beck
About the Author
Author’s Note
Please be aware, dear reader, that you are not diving into a deeply researched, highly accurate historical novel. My points of interest derived primarily from the Enclosure Acts of the 18th and 19th centuries, and my efforts to explore the subject could hardly be called scholarly. If you find anything especially egregious, you are welcome to inform me of it kindly, if you so desire. Otherwise, please enjoy this story that is meant to be a short, romantic diversion (complete with a book boyfriend who cooks breakfast).
Chapter 1
Ella was a proper young woman. She was devoted to maintaining propriety even while working outside in late summer’s heat, which meant staying fully clothed while clearing the overgrowth and debris crowding the pond on her family property.
The water sparkled in the sunlight, throwing diamonds into Ella’s eyes. It was so beautiful it might have been an enchantment. The woods behind the pond were said to be full of fairies and spirits who could cast such enchantments. These spirits were wicked, sly creatures who lay in wait for unwary humans. Such humans, when they stumbled into such hiding places, would find their virtue in grave danger, or their most cherished memory, or even their life.
And so Ella, wiping sweat from her round, flushed face, refused to gaze longingly at the cool, dark depths of the water, refused to loosen even one button on her faded yellow gown. Her strong, plump arms continued uprooting the plants that choked the mouth of the little stream which fed these enticing and roguishly sparkling waters.
“I would have come to help you earlier,” Ella said to the pond, “but you understand how Stepmother is. I have been polishing silver as though the king were coming to visit. Quite pointless, really.”
The pond said nothing, of course. But it must have been taking its roguishness rather seriously that day. For when Ella was engaged with a particularly stubborn weed, whether by magic or misfortune–or ancient shoes which really should have been replaced years ago–she slipped, lost her grip on the weed, and tumbled into the pond.
It was cold and startling and refreshing. Her eyes opened of their own accord–and widened in surprise. The pond was a vast cavern stretching around and below her, its depths far more expansive than the surface of it had suggested, though they disappeared into darkness and plant life. It was the most wonderful view–until Ella remembered that she did not know how to swim.
This took approximately one second.
She thrashed and struggled, but the surface was far beyond her reach. Panic began to catch at her throat and lungs. Her limbs struggled for purchase in vain. Then something caught her round the waist and held her tight. She screamed, inviting the pond into her lungs, and thrashed blindly until darkness claimed her.
She awoke, choking and coughing. When she had expelled the last of the pond water, drawing in ragged gasps of air, Ella struggled to sit upright.
“I’m flattered by your sense of urgency,” said a low male voice. Strong arms encircled her, supporting her and keeping her from sitting upright. “I would have brought you myself, however, if you had waited.”
A pale man was smiling down at her. Ella blinked and stared in a way that surely ignored propriety altogether. The sharp planes of his face, as angular as hers was round, made him almost severe looking, but his smile was smooth and disarming. When he shifted slightly his skin shimmered a pale blue. This startling fact was overshadowed by the fact that he still held her. Ella had had no such intimate contact with a man before. It should have been appalling. She should remove herself. But Ella had no wish to leave the stranger’s embrace. There was far too little fabric between her skin and his, which felt good in a way she feared might be bad and warmed her instantly.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she croaked. “It was clumsy of me to fall in.”
“Most of my visitors dive in gracefully, but I have seen a few cannonball their way down.” He grinned. “You may be the first to fall.”
He made it sound like a compliment, as if he were in no hurry to let her go. Ella wished she could stay where she was indefinitely, yet could no longer pretend she did not know he held her; return to propriety she must. But it seemed terribly boring.
“I seem to have lost my dress,” she said.
“Wet clothes have a way of dragging one down, in my experience. I removed it. It is hanging up by the fire, there, drying.” The stranger nodded his head and Ella followed the movement, catching a glimpse of her surroundings as she did so. They appeared to be in a cozy, small sitting room. The fire in the fireplace blazed, and a familiar faded yellow dress hanging from a wooden rack steamed next to it. An assortment of luxurious if somewhat faded chaise lounges adorned the room. But the stranger cradled Ella on a soft rug of blues and greens. That must explain the blue tinge to his skin, Ella told herself. And why, despite being in only her damp stays, chemise, and drawers, she felt as comfortable as one could expect–and entirely bothered in other ways.
“Now we must get you somewhere more comfortable,” said the stranger in a caressing voice, which just went to show that even handsome, dashing men did not read minds. Instead of releasing her, he drew her closer until her breath stirred the simple white shirt he wore. The hollow at his throat made Ella’s own throat go dry. With one finger he lifted her chin until he caught her gaze. “The afternoon is ours, love.”
Ella could only stare. She felt no fear, only surprise and a strange hunger deep in her belly. The pale man smiled.
“How would you be pleasured?” He asked in liquid tones. His eyes glanced from her face to her barely-covered breasts, to the space between her legs as he spoke, and a light kindled his gaze that seemed to tingle across her skin. “Hot and desperate? To be taken roughly until I steal your voice. Shall I ravish you?” A languid hand drawn up Ella’s thigh elicited a gasp. He drew away as she pulled her knees instinctively towards her chest.
“No? I should have guessed not. A tender creature such as yourself requires a certain gentleness. Let me bring you to pleasure slowly.”
“I–well, what I mean–what are you talking about?” Ella gasped, pressing a hand lightly to his chest. His skin was cool and smooth through the shirt, making her want to drag her palm from shoulder to shoulder, preferably without said shirt in the way. But his large hand caught hers and stilled the motion.
“You mean to say,” he said, his pale blue eyes peering into hers, “you did not come here for me to make love to you?” A new thought must have struck him, for his eyes widened and he leaned away. “Do you know what making love means?”
“Yes. Of course,” Ella said. Her cheeks colored. “Um, a little. I have seen sheep couple and my stepmother told me, um, some things.” She frowned. Stepmother’s description was unexciting and awkward at best, frightening at worst. But the way this stranger made her body respond hadn’t brought to mind that brief discussion, if discussion it could be called. Rather, it had driven everything from her mind and stirred things in her body that she had only felt briefly before. She wanted more.
But the stranger’s brows drew together in worry. He released her, laying her back on the rug, and stood.
“I do not seduce virgins,” he said sternly.
Ella sat upright and frowned, blinking up at him. “Couldn’t you make an exception for me?”
“I see. You fell in, not knowing I was here. You were not looking for me at all.”
“Where is here, exactly?”
Without explanation, the man scooped her into his arms and strode across the room. Ella cried out in surprise at this sudden removal, though she felt no desire to escape his arms or the way he cradled her ample body with ease.
“Women come to me understanding what they ask for,” he said. “They don’t understand how capably I fulfill their requests.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned. “You are a prostitute.”
“I prefer nymph de l’eau. Your kind call me water spirit, but I assure you, I am very much a physical being. It is against my nature to pleasure unsuspecting intruders, especially those who don’t understand the most rudimentary elements of love-making.”
“You could show me,” she said, to her own surprise. “Surely you can do that?”
He gazed at her. “I could do more than that,” he said, his voice liquid once again. “I could do so much more–but no. I will see you to the edge of the pond.”
Now she felt embarrassed and even more confused th
“Darling, this is the home of Rodan the lover,” said the stranger. “You’ll have to swim.”
Chapter 2
He set her down in a coolly lit entryway. The weather had turned stormy, but Ella could not hear anything. She squinted through the window. She could not see the bank. She could not see much of anything, in fact, because–
“We’re underwater,” she said, and gulped. “When you said swim, I thought you meant across the pond, not through it.”
Rodan pulled something from a basket woven of green reeds and held it out to show her. It looked like a pearl, small and iridescent. “This will allow you to breathe until you reach the shore,” he explained. “However, as you found me by accident, I am inclined not to give it to you. You might start a habit of taking strange things from strange men.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Ella replied. “You saved me from drowning and refused to make love to me. As there is nothing else for it, I would rather not need you to rescue me again.” Still proper, she held out her hand and waited for the item.
“Suit yourself.” Rodan placed the pearl in her hand and indicated she was to swallow it. “The effects will last long enough for your journey.”
It went down her throat like a soft piece of ice, leaving a little trail of cold in her throat. Rodan was opening the door. He took her hand, and led her through.
Ella noted the pocket of air surrounding the open door, which held just room enough for the two of them. His arms encircled her once more. But she had not time to revel in this, for he propelled them through the bubble and into the water.
It was a rush of cold silk against her skin, running cool fingers through her hair. She managed to keep her eyes open and found it easy as anything. The blue water cleared so that she could see quite well, and the surroundings enchanted her. Schools of silver fish darted beneath them like low scudding clouds into tiny forests of graceful water weeds. They ascended quickly, the engulfing water flow changing direction, and crowds of taller water plants rose up in the distance like a vast forest. The house fell away behind them, quickly swallowed in a murky dusk, until the faint yellow glow of the windows might have been the eyes of some dreadful creature. Ella shuddered.
“You should see it when the water is at her clearest,” said Rodan, nodding ahead. A fine netting on his neck–gills, she realized with surprise–fluttered delicately. Ella tore her gaze away and looked where he indicated. Above them, a grey pallor spread across the water like a film of dust. The water looked ill.
“Is this where the stream feeds it?” She asked, forgetting to be surprised that she could speak underwater, let alone breathe. The water tickled her mouth and skin. Reaching a hand up, she murmured in surprise to find a delicate fluttering on her neck.
“Yes.” A grim light entered Rodan’s eyes. “I cannot leave the water, or I would clean it myself.”
“I will clean it,” Ella said. “I was cleaning it, before I fell in.”
“Were you?” He glanced at her in surprise. “How considerate of the spirits you must be.”
Not knowing until minutes ago that spirits lived in the pond, Ella only responded, “I love this place. Above the surface, that is.”
“And above the surface is where you must stay.” Rodan turned her to face him. “It was a delight to meet you, love. Have a pleasant life.”
And suddenly Ella found herself sitting on the bank, sopping wet.
How odd everything looked now that she had seen the pond from beneath the surface. A fairy world at that. Or rather, a spirit world, and she hadn’t lost a thing. She decided the word spirit suited Rodan better. Despite his being, as he had said, very corporeal, it was the word he had used.
Marveling, she glanced around her. The sun was lower in the sky, meaning it was almost time for tea. She felt as though the sun ought to be higher, or in the very same place, or maybe a different color; a strange event to mark her strange adventure. But everything looked as it always had at the pond gracing the very edge of the late baronet’s land.
The stream still needed tending, but she hadn’t time for that. She would have to come back tomorrow. Ella had cleared the stream every few years to allow for the pond to remain clear, but it seemed a much more interesting task now that thoughts of a handsome, roguish water spirit stirred within her as it stirred in the cool depths.
“His manners are extremely confusing,” she announced to no one, “but I suppose, for a spirit, he could have been worse.”
Rodan watched her leave below the surface of the water, out of sight. His thoughts were a tangle of roots and water. He should not have slipped another pearl into her bodice, practically inviting her to return. Many humans had visited him in his current abode, but this one whose name he did not even know tugged at him like the waves at low tide.
How alluring she was, with her round, generous curves, her large brown eyes, her hair golden and shining! He found her simplicity refreshing, unexpected; women were coy with him, men were sometimes embarrassed to go to him. But this stranger was so honest. And demanding, he thought. He grinned a grin that made all of his clients weak in the knees. I’d like to get on my knees for her–
“No, Rodan.” He scrubbed his face violently. He’d meant what he said about her staying on land. He had good reason to say it and to believe it, to refuse to give her what everyone came to him for. He felt the weight of this reason on his shoulders every day. It rested on his shoulders the way dis-ease rested on the water’s surface.
There was nothing else for it. Time for a good, stiff– er, sobering drink, he told himself, and swam home swiftly.
Chapter 3
For once, Ella was thankful that her bedroom was on the ground floor and that the window never fully shut. She tumbled inside and scrambled to snatch her second gown from its peg on the wall. It was a sad thing of faded pink, but at least she could dress herself in it without the help of a servant. She dressed in a hurry and wrung out her wet hair through the open window, peering towards the pond. She couldn’t see it from there.
She did, however, remember her dress, still warming itself beside Rodan’s sitting room fire. She’d lost something after all, though through forgetfulness rather than a spirit’s wiles.
What if he did it on purpose so I must go back? She thought wistfully. But he had told her to stay on land. Even still.
“I shall have to get it back,” she said aloud.
“Ella! Ella, to whom are you speaking, girl? Get out here at once! I have been calling you for ages!” Stepmother’s sharp voice accompanied a rapping on the door. Ella banged her head on the window as she drew inside. When she opened her door, the older woman’s eyes blazed with righteous anger.
“Finally! Ella, our distinguished guest arrives soon, and I–good gracious! Ella, what on earth have you been doing? No, don’t tell me.” Stepmother lifted a scented handkerchief to her nose and shut her eyes. “Why must you go near that horrid pond? Don’t you have the sense to realize that a wicked fairy might find you? Or worse, one of those dirty, itinerant families?”
“How might they be worse?” Ella asked, but Stepmother ignored her and went on about the state of the meal and how real baronetcies always observed proper meal times.
“Just hurry and come to the kitchen at once,” she finished.
“The cake is ready, Stepmother, and I’ll finish the sandwiches and come right back to my room,” Ella said, “just as we discussed.” And then I can retrieve my dress before you notice it’s gone, and maybe see if he...
“You’ll do no such thing, girl. Have you lost your wits?” Stepmother’s voice jolted her from the beginnings of a delicious daydream. “Finish the meal and bring it to the parlor, where you will wait, just as we discussed.”
Ella bit her lip to keep from saying that they had discussed no such thing, as that would get her nowhere. She was used to serving the food in her older dress to keep up the pretense that they still kept servants; the baronetess never received visitors for Ella, and when she received the few of her own acquaintance, always said that her stepdaughter was out shopping with friends or ill in her room. But to stay with the guests was different. And different circumstances or not, asking questions of Stepmother never got her anywhere.
