by Amelia Brown
The flame of attraction, of hunger burned in the depths of his gaze and the answering flame that sprang to life within her, was hard to smother. Luveday had never thought of herself as a sensual being. She was practical, cerebral, polite, and underestimated, but never the object of a man’s desires, not in this all-consuming way that Iain had about him. The passion that was banked within him singed along her nerve endings. Why, oh why, did it have to be him? She could give in, as she longed to do. She craved a taste of the promise of ecstasy he offered with every look, every touch, but she had made herself follow that action to its inevitable conclusion, and she could not stomach it.
He had said he didn’t mean to hurt her, would never do so, and she believed him. Every day they were together pulled them closer, mind, body, and soul but so much still lay between them.
A large hand came to rest on her hip and the other tilted her head back a fraction so that their lips aligned perfectly. The brush of his mouth over hers was sheer heaven, but as he leaned in, trapping her body between his own and the cold wall at her back, common sense came flooding back to her. She cursed inwardly, wanting to ignore her sensible nature and continue kissing him. The voice of reason screamed at her in a last attempt to get her cooperation, knowing that with each encounter Luveday was paying less and less attention to her own sense of self-preservation. Iain’s knee slid north between her thighs and came to rest against the v of her center causing Luveday to pull away and bite down hard on her lower lip. The pain stopped the purr that was moving up from her chest and brought with it a bit of clarity to her addled wits.
Unwittingly, Luveday shook her head still chewing on her bottom lip and considered Iain’s steady gaze. Her name on his lips was a reprimand; he was familiar with the look that heralded her withdrawal. “Luveday.” The anger and frustration in that one word perfectly mirrored her own thoughts. He had no right to be angry.
“You are playing with fire, My Lord.” Surely, he knew that.
“I would burn with you for a thousand years, Luveday.” His head dipped to take her lips again, but Luveday forced herself to push at his chest. She knew that it wasn’t her strength that moved him, but his own reluctance to hurry her. Iain was infinitely patient in this regard and completely focused on coaxing her to him. Luveday found that quality vastly appealing, he knew when to push her, and just how far before letting her go.
That he knew her so well thrilled and terrified her. “Iain.” His name was a plea for things she would never voice to him, to anyone. He tilted her head up again so that they could look at each other, and she knew he saw the working of her mind clearly as the wheels turned behind her eyes. Without meaning to, she spoke her thoughts aloud. “What do you want from me?”
“Everything.” It was an admission that startled them both. His hand dropped from her cheek. It was he that put more distance between them, but neither was grateful for it.
Luveday watched as he turned away, his shoulder dropped a bit, his head bowed as he fought with something inside himself. It was not a sight that she took any pleasure in. Indeed, she hoped that he would come to the same conclusions she had and put an end to this before they were torn apart. When he turned back to her, straightening to his full height the look in his eyes made her heart drop to the pit of her stomach and a flash of despair cut through her soul. Advancing on her like a wolf hunting down its prey, he did not stop until they were mashed against the wall once more.
The kiss they shared should have left some lasting sign on the world, like the after images of people caught by a nuclear blast. Their silhouette should have been imprinted forever on the curtain wall, but when voices pulled them unwillingly from their passion, nothing remained to mark the occasion, but the few powerful words that hung suspended in time and space as he strode away from her.
“You are mine.”
Emmalyn was casting Luveday concerned looks every few minutes. Gathered around the fireside, they listened to Lord Grayson Stern recount his recent visit to court and once again mention how excited many were for Iain’s upcoming nuptials.
Luveday chatted and laughed, but she was not exactly aware of what she was saying. Of course, Emmalyn noticed, but she prayed that no one else did. In her mind’s eye, Luveday replayed the moment only a short time ago when upon his arrival, Stern handed over a missive from the King, one addressed to Iain alone. The moment he had finished reading the note his eyes had sought her out. She had never seen that cold look directed at her, and it took Luveday a moment to realize that the content of the letter had nothing to do with her but was a stern reminder of his vows to Lord Sumerland and his daughter. Vows were vows and the King, though beholden to Luveday for saving his son, saw no reason for De Lane to stop the marriage.
Now they sat chatting, while Luveday refused to look at Iain for more than a few seconds at a time and only when spoken to.
“Lady Luveday your presence would liven up the court,” Stern commented, not for the first time. “The ladies there have little sense save the Queen.” He took a long drink of wine before continuing. “Your skills would earn you some pretty coin and many favors. The King was most impressed with your healing ability and bayed me remind you that should you ever journey to town, he will repay his debt to you in a public fashion.” Even Stern sounded impressed by the notion. King Edward was known for making grand gestures for those who pleased him, what more would he do for someone he owned a debt to.
“Perhaps next fall, we might journey to town.” Emmalyn looked to Iain but noticed he watched the lady in question rather than paying her much attention, though he must have heard her query.
His gaze swung to her, but he did not look contrite being caught staring. “If you wish, Aunt. The fall is the best time to go, perhaps just after the grain harvest.”
Emmalyn turned to Luveday suddenly eager. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Luveday smiled, more pleased by the woman’s pleasure than by the thought of town. “If you think it best, Lady.” Her reply was said to the lady next to her, rather than Iain.
The bell for the mid-day meal rang, and as the group rose to find their seats at the tables, Luveday was halted by Ellie who grabbed her right arm and turned her back toward Emmalyn who took the other. They drew closer and whispered once the men were several feet away.
Luveday caught the look that passed between them, but it was Emmalyn’s concerned voice that jarred her from her thoughts. “Is something wrong between you and Iain, child?” Luveday had no words to describe what was between Iain and herself.
Ellie searched her friend’s face for some hint for her odd behavior. “You are not fighting, are you? I know there is much going on with the wedding preparations and the spring thaw.” She glanced at Emmalyn who was looking for clues as well. “I know Lord Iain confides in you, but if it is not something between you two, then what else…?”
Luveday didn’t let her finish. The women were worried, and she had been so caught up in her own emotions that she had yet to see what was going on around her. She turned the conversation back on course, not wanting them to worry unnecessarily but also not wanting to reveal the truth of the matter. “It is merely a difference of opinion between us. Nothing more. I am sure it will be sorted out within a few days, before the wedding.” She reassured Ellie. Emmalyn, on the other hand, looked as if she meant to probe deeper but glanced at the girl and nodded leaving it at that.
Dinner progressed with more happy banter, and when Luveday finally climbed the stairs to find her bed, she felt emotionally battered. Later she would blame what happened next on having to hide her turning emotions since Lord Stern’s arrival. Most of the castle was asleep, save her. The hall was dark as the candles had been extinguished over an hour prior and so, she did not see him at first, not until he was close enough to swoop her into a quick embrace before ushering her toward the back stairs near the sewing room. Luveday didn’t use these stairs much; they were dark, cramped and too steep for her petite frame. She was surprised once aga
in when Iain ascended the stairs rather than heading down. There was nothing above but a seldom used lookout post. The area was kept clean by the men-at-arms, but Luveday had never had the need to venture up there. Her fear of heights made the view less than spectacular, so she had stayed away.
The hatch-like door was thrown open to reveal a roofed structure. The lookout was little more than eight feet wide square with several of those feet being taken up by the door. Iain pulled her free of the safety of the stairs and towards the railing. The structure reminded Luveday of a boxy gazebo stuck atop a tower. While the view was breathtaking for more than one reason, she had eyes only for Iain. In the dim light of a crescent moon, she watched him look out over his lands and tilt his face up toward the waning sphere. As he stood there a moment longer, she looked around and spotted a bench built into the wall. She sat and only glanced down at the castle gates and farther down the road. From here she thought she might be able to glimpse the spires of the cathedral at the Abbey, but she could discern nothing beyond the woods that lay on the other side of the village.
When she turned her attention back to him, he was no longer looking out but had turned to lean back on the railing and watch her. Luveday imagined he saw a good deal, though only half of her face was bathed in moonlight. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he could see her clearly in the dark. She sat sideways on the narrow bench, her left arm resting against the railing, her legs folded neatly to one side, one foot touching the floor facing the same direction as he, though she could see little of the fields and orchards below. Her vision was full of open sky, deep and lovely and full of stars though from here they seemed much closer than they usually were through her window.
Luveday waited. She was content to let him make the first move after the mental exhaustion of the last few days. Since his admission beside the garden wall, nothing had been settled between them, and Luveday knew that sooner or later things would come to a head, she just had not expected Stern and the King’s letter to be the catalyst.
“I am to marry Christabel.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it dulled the sting of the words.
Luveday nodded. “This I know.” Her voice was thankfully devoid of emotion.
“I am to marry her a week after Gregori’s ceremony. The date has been set by the King.” He stayed where he was, not coming closer to touch her or comfort her. And Luveday looked on, noting absently the wind and light that danced in his hair. Their gazes held for a matter of minutes until a sigh seemed to deflate him. Iain bent his head and ran his hand over his face before looking back at her. She had not moved a muscle. “Guests will be arriving shortly, as soon as the morrow even.” Finally, he moved to sit beside her, his face in shadow, the moon over his left shoulder caught her gaze.
He turned her back toward him. “What do you want from me?” She asked again, only this time it was a whisper full of little emotion.
His answer was the same. “Everything.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her forward until she rested on her knees bringing her up to his level for the deepest, darkest kiss she had ever received. Luveday struggled with herself, with him. If she let this continue a moment longer, she would be devoured by his hunger. For the first time he did not let her go so she struggled harder pulling her mouth free of his. He seemed to come back to himself though he did not let her retreat, instead, his forehead came to rest on her own with a weary sigh. Luveday’s eyes drifted closed as this moment felt more intimate to her than his burning passion a heartbeat ago.
“Luveday.” Her name had never sounded so wonderful before, it was a plea and a benediction. “The future had been set, long before you appeared at my door.” She sank back, sitting almost in his lap. His hands came to frame her face and dive into her hair; his thumbs stroked the skin from her temple to the curve of her cheekbones under her eyes. “I cannot change it, you know that.” She gave no reaction to this declaration but the slight widening of her eyes. “I do not love Christabel.” At the sound of her name, Luveday wished to be released, but instead straightened her spine and prepared herself for what was to come. “But I have vowed to wed her and wed her I will.” Luveday was already aware of this but hearing the bleak tone of his words brought the truth home in a way they never had before. “I will not break my oaths, but I cannot lose you.”
Her eyes flew open; she had not even realized she had closed them.
“Your home is here; your life is here, and I promise you it will always be so. Stay with me, Luveday. Stay and love me. Love me like she never will. Love me as I love you.” He begged her.
She had always known the words would hurt when they finally came from him. They hurt just as much being left unsaid every time he tried to seduce her with witty banter or soft touches. Hurt and confusion warred within her. A part of her yearned to answer his pleas with words of her own, but she was smart enough to realize that she would be making promises she couldn’t keep. So instead of answering, she kissed him; kissed him with all the love and pain inside her. She kissed him until they both forgot what he had asked of her, and when she pulled away and fled down the staircase, he did not immediately go after her. Luveday hoped that he had taken that kiss as her answer, and leave it at that, but she knew sooner, or later Iain would realize that she hadn’t said the words. Luveday hoped that by then she would have everything under control.
Indeed, it took several days before Iain realized that Luveday had made no declarations of her own and no promises. With the arrival of guests and only three days left until the ceremony for Gregori and Ellie, there was little opportunity to talk to her alone. Under the cheerful façade, he presented to his guests burned desperation the likes of which he had never known.
In private he paced and planned to get her free of the crowd that seemed to follow her everywhere. His attempts thus far had failed, earning him only a few moments alone in her company and never the opportunity to extract an answer from her. He felt like he was being crushed under the weight of his responsibilities having to parade around the keep with Christabel at his arm playing the loving couple for the nobility. Failing that, they at least had to appear to get along. He threw his mug into the fire and watched the wine and flame sizzle. The liquid was not enough to quench the hungry flames, and Iain felt similarly. He could not quench his hunger for Luveday, her kisses haunted him. Her kind heart, her humor, and her quiet beauty drew him in and was a comfort to his very soul. Her mere presence drove him mad, and he feared that something would take her from him.
Christabel would have no say in the matter. Once they were wed, he would do his duty and send her back to court. She could rule from his private rooms in the palace, the perks of being the wife of the King’s Champion. Luveday could stay at Lander’s Keep, she was already the lady here in everything but name. And he could, and he could… but his fantasies fled before him. He could have her and ruin her. Could the child she bore him be any conciliation for her lack of standing? For dishonoring her?
As he paced he kicked over the chair nearest him. The thud was unsatisfying, and he had the urge to rip the room apart, but everywhere he looked he saw Luveday’s touches, her concern for his comfort. So, he picked the chair up and returned it to its rightful place. Belatedly he grabbed the fire-iron and retrieved the metal goblet before the hot embers warped it beyond repair, and let it cool beside the hearth.
He was a fool. Iain sat on the chest at the foot of his bed, head in his hands, shoulders slumped and heart heavy. He could not reconcile the truth of what was about to happen with what he wanted. For years his life had been shaped by his own hand and his alone. Now that the future was so close he could touch it, it was too late to realize that what he had thought he wanted was not what he needed. He needed Luveday, needed her like his next breath, but at what cost. It was frightening to know, to realize that he didn’t care. He didn’t care what it cost him, what it cost her, so long as she stayed with him. He would not let her go, he vowed. Not ever.
Luveday searched thr
ough her chest. She had meant to do so days ago and have the gift ready beforehand but life these days was not going according to her plans, but she prayed that would soon change. In the warm light of the open window pouring in from above her bed, she found the bag of jewelry she had purchased on that fateful day nearly a year ago before she had been transported to another world. She had bought the necklace for her sister, but while Annalisa would have liked the piece, it would have ended up in a drawer of her jewelry box with a dozen similar pieces she rarely wore. On the other hand, Elli would cherish the piece forever. Luveday placed the heavy gold necklace in the palm of her hand and held it up to the light. The rose quartz stones were carved to look like flowers while small pieces of jade circled the buds mimicking the form of leaves. Around each stone was a bit of gold wire and gold leaf. The piece had cost a bit more than she would usually have spent on such an item, but Luveday had taken one look at the necklace and thought that it was meant for a special occasion. She just had not guessed how special it would be.
She slipped the necklace back in its velvet drawstring bag and picked up the tiny studded hairpins she had only recently found in the bottom of her bag. At first, Luveday had not remembered where the pins had come from, she was sure she had not purchased them, nor did she own such items. It took two days before the memory came back to her. She sat at a table after Sunday brunch with her family. It was one of the rare occasions when everyone was present. Luveday had taken a seat next to Abigail. The five-year-old girl had been dressed in her Sunday best and had rambled cheerfully on about anything and everything she could think of. Luveday had never been as happy as when she was with the girls. Abigail was her best friend, and Luveday hers. After waffles had been consumed and much orange juice drained, Abbey had become impatient with the fancy hairdo her mother had so painstakingly woven. The tiny studded hairpins had graced her dark head like the ring of a starry halo, but Abigail would have none of it. Luveday was barely able to extract the offending items before the pins were lost forever and had tucked them away in her pocket but had forgotten to return them to Annalisa before they left. Now she vaguely remembered putting them in a plastic baggie and popping them into her pack, intent on remembering to return them the next time she saw her sister. Of course, they had been lost in the depths of her bag, and only when Luveday had searched the folds of the bottom of the backpack did she now find them.
