Brides of Ireland
Page 118
Why not indeed? Torston gazed into her sky-blue eyes through the blocked vision of his faceplate; he had always thought she was exceptionally beautiful, and exceptionally out of his reach. Partly because she was so young, but mostly because he was already betrothed.
Strange, he didn’t feel betrothed. A contract made at birth, something he had constantly been aware of, knowing the time would eventually come. Even if he was willing to pursue Gabriella and her dreams, it was clear that he was not meant to have either.
Therefore, he ignored her question, frankly, because he couldn’t give her a pleasing answer.
“I’m too old to live dreams, Gabriella.”
“You are only twenty-nine years old.”
“And you are seventeen. I am past my prime, and you are entering yours.”
He collected the charger’s reins and turned the beast around. Gabriella watched him, tall and broad and powerful. When the helm was removed, he had the most wonderful auburn hair and granite jaw, and a toothy smile that turned her limbs to jelly.
“Are you really too old for me, Torston?”
He continued to lead the charger. He feared what would happen if he mounted behind her and was forced to cradle her soft, supple body in his arms. “I am.”
“You keep telling me that.”
“Because it’s true.”
A smile teased her lips. “You hurt my feelings.”
“Then I apologize.”
She tried a different approach. “So you would rather see me with a young, foolish knight instead of your mature level wisdom?”
“Your father will choose your mate wisely.”
Her approach hadn’t worked. Gabriella was rethinking her strategy when a piercing howl suddenly filled the air. Terrified, she watched in horror as several men in long tunics and braes emerged from the trees, swinging their weapons menacingly. Torston stopped leading the charger and mounted in a flash.
Gabriella clung to his back, protected from the attack by his broad body. Torston deftly collect his shield from the left side of the saddle, unsheathing his sword as a mace came flying at his head. Fending off the blow, he struggled to spur his charger through the rabble.
“Hold on, Gabriella.” She could hear his calm, steady voice. “I’ll get you through, lass.”
Someone grabbed her by the hair. With a cry, Gabriella was pulled back as Torston swung around, dropping his shield in order to prevent her from being yanked off the charger. It became a brutal tug-of-war, the grip on Gabriella’s hair painful as Torston pulled on her arm. Gabriella bit her lip to keep from screaming, her agony mercifully cut short as Torston leveled a blow from his sword that sent Gabriella’s attacker to the ground.
Gasping, she wrapped her arms around Torston’s torso once again as he faced forward, his sword arcing brilliantly in the early night air. The marauding Scots fought hard, landing heavy strikes against his thighs and arms. One blow caught Gabriella on the leg but she didn’t utter a sound, instead, concentrating on huddling behind Torston as he maneuvered through the vicious horde. It seemed to take forever when, in fact, it was only a matter of minutes before he was able to leave the pack behind.
Galloping through the trees, it was difficult to see now that the sun had set. The horse stumbled a few times and at one point Torston narrowly avoided being impaled on a rotted stump. But it was more important that he remove Gabriella from danger, no matter what the personal cost, and when they finally burst free of the forest, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
The battle against the main Scot army had apparently moved away from the cattle fields, pushed back by the combined forces of The Lyceum and Deauville Mount. Torston slowed his charger to an easy canter, cresting the hills and crossing the pastures as Deauville Mount came into view in the distance. Reaching behind him, he patted Gabriella’s leg.
“We’re safe, lass.” He lifted his visor, trying to turn and look at her. “Are you well?”
She was holding him so tightly that all of her fingers were white. When she didn’t reply, he thought he heard a muffled sob. Immediately, the horse came to a halt and he bailed off, deeply concerned that she had been injured.
“Gabriella,” he hissed, grasping her lowered face. “What’s the matter, lass? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, avoiding his probing gaze. “I… I’m fine.”
“Then why are you weeping?”
She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m not,” she insisted weakly. “I simply want to go home.”
His hands stayed on her face, forcing her to look at him. Gabriella’s heart fluttered with the familiar excitement when he smiled. “If I were you, I would be more frightened of your father than a few savage Scots.”
She couldn’t help but smile in return, wiping the last of the tears she swore she hadn’t cried. “Won’t you protect me?”
He shook his head, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “Not from de Ameland. The man would quash me like a bug.”
“But I would protect you if you ever needed it.”
He laughed softly, deep dimples in his cheeks. “I believe that you would, little pigeon. But, of course, you are much braver than I.”
Instinctively, she leaned into his hand, relishing his touch even though his flesh was covered in mail. “No one is braver than Harringham’s Centurion. Everyone on the border knows that.”
Torston’s smile faded as he watched her rub her cheek against his palm, the softness of her eyes drawing him in. He knew very well that he should pull his hand away, but he simply didn’t have the will to do it. Or the desire. Gabriella smiled when she read his torn expression, turning to press her lips against the cold mail of his fingers.
Torston felt the kiss. Through layers of leather and steel, he felt it as if a searing dagger had suddenly been plunged into his heart. Gabriella kissed his hand again, and a third time. Weakly, Torston shook his head.
“Nay, Gabriella,” he murmured, making a very futile attempt to remove his hand. “You… mustn’t.”
She glanced up, hardly taking him seriously. But she let go of his hand, only to throw both arms around his neck. As she slipped off the saddle, Torston was forced to grab hold of her. Face to face, their gazes locked.
“Live my dreams with me, Torston,” she whispered, and he could feel her sweet breath on his face. “Forget about this betrothal and sail the world with me. We’ll do things no one else has ever done and go places men only imagine. Doesn’t that appeal to you in the least?’
He stared at her, his soft brown eyes weakening with emotion even as he struggled to stay his control. But the battle was already lost. “I’ve done my travelling and have seen all I ever wanted to see.” He watched her features soften with disappointment. “I’m too old to chase your dreams, Gabriella. My life has already been lived.”
His eyes were the only thing visible through the slit in his visor. Tenderly, Gabriella kissed him on the helm where his mouth would be and Torston nearly dropped her. “You haven’t lived yet,” she said softly, “until you have lived with me.”
With his last shred of control, Torston lowered her to the ground and made a firm attempt to pull away. “Please, Gabriella,” he said. “You know I cannot. I already have a bride, as much as the thought distresses me.”
Gabriella gazed at him, unwinding her arms from around his neck. “But I can see in your eyes that the thought of marrying me would not distress you.”
He couldn’t lie to her, no matter how much he knew he should. “Nay, it does not.”
“You are attracted to me, Torston. Admit it.”
He turned away from her, collecting his charger’s reins. “Whether or not I am is of little matter. There is nothing either of us can do about it.”
Gabriella was silent a moment, moving slowly, thoughtfully, beside him. As he toyed with the reins, she gazed up into his face. “Then tell me how you feel when you think of me with another man?”
“I have no right to feel anything.”
Gabriella hooked her fingers into the slit of his visor, pulling him around to look at her. “I have been asking you to marry me since I was eight years old and the more I persist, the weaker you grow. I know you feel for me whether or not you will admit it. Now, I ask you; how do you feel when you think of me with another man?”
“It does not mat….”
“He’ll be touching me, kissing me.”
“Stop it, Gabriella. It matters not….”
“He’ll bed me, Torston. How does it feel knowing that he’ll be taking…”
“Enough!” he roared, grabbing her by the shoulders. Gabriella stared at him, wide-eyed, as he wrestled with his composure. When he spoke, it was slow and steady. “It does not matter how I feel, Gabriella. Nor does it matter how you feel. We must do as we must.”
She couldn’t become angry with him, not when he was so dedicated to the organized path his life must follow. But the thought that, after all these years, she would be unable to convince him to break his betrothal ripped her heart into painful little pieces. She had been trying to persuade him for so long that the pleading, the coy suggestions, had become a part of their relationship.
“Even if we must,” she murmured, “will you not tell me how you feel?”
He didn’t know if he was strong enough. In truth, he wasn’t sure what to tell her. “I am unsure, Gabriella. But if I knew, I would tell you.”
She touched his cheek one last time, watching his eyelids flutter in response to her touch.
“If you loved me, would you tell me?”
He sounded as if he was gasping. “I would.”
Smiling faintly, she moved to the saddle. Leaving Torston standing emotionally drained, she mounted by herself.
“Then I shall live for the day, Sir Torston.”
She had no doubt the day would come.
The Centurion is slated to release on or around August 2019. Keep up to date on the coming release by signing up for Kathryn’s blog.
About Kathryn Le Veque
Medieval Just Got Real.
KATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog. In March 2015, Kathryn was the featured cover story for the March issue of InD’Tale Magazine, the premier Indie author magazine. She was also a quadruple nominee (a record!) for the prestigious RONE awards for 2015.
Kathryn’s Medieval Romance novels have been called ‘detailed’, ‘highly romantic’, and ‘character-rich’. She crafts great adventures of love, battles, passion, and romance in the High Middle Ages. More than that, she writes for both women AND men – an unusual crossover for a romance author – and Kathryn has many male readers who enjoy her stories because of the male perspective, the action, and the adventure.
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