Always Golden

by Gina Dickerson

  ‘I do when there are soldiers around I don’t know and do not trust.’

  ‘I will not harm you.’ Vilas held out his hand. As Maerie passed him the bandages he grasped her hand. ‘I promise.’

  He frowned. Maerie’s hand was small in his and for a crazy moment he did not want to charm her, did not want to do it simply to see if he could. He wanted—he swallowed, the thought stuck in his mind like a piece of food in his throat—more.

  Maerie did not pull away. ‘Strangely, I think I believe you.’ She stared into his eyes. ‘You come across as a man of some honour.’

  Vilas smiled. ‘I’m glad I do.’ Taking the wad of material from Maerie with one hand, he kept hold of her and gently pulled her towards him. ‘Will you help me?’

  ‘If you wish.’

  Vilas lowered his voice, ‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

  ‘You did that as soon as you knocked on the door.’

  Vilas released Maerie’s hand and drew in a breath, realising he was shaking. ‘I am sorry, it was not my intention.’ His shoulders tightened and an ache began to grow at the base of his neck. For an inexplicable reason he wanted this woman to like him but above all else he wanted to affect her in the same way she was affecting him. ‘I will sleep in the barn with the men.’ Dropping the bandages, he turned away.

  There was no way he could sleep in a room in the same building as her, thinking she was nervous of him.

  Maerie’s touch was like an electric shock as she grasped his arm. ‘You don’t have to.’

  With tension still snapping between his shoulder blades, Vilas did not turn around. He watched several of the soldiers carrying food from the small outbuilding beside the barn, unable to speak until he had composed himself. ‘I want you to feel safe. I can’t bear to think of you being frightened, Maerie.’

  ‘I will feel safer with you under the same roof as me,’ she whispered, still holding onto his arm.

  The ache in his neck began receding. Slowly, he eased his arm from Maerie’s grasp and turned to face her.

  Goodness, she’s not just good looking, she’s beautiful, he thought.

  The light of the moon made her appear almost ethereal. More of her hair had tumbled free and now hung across the swell of her breasts, reaching nearly to her feet. In the semi-darkness her pupils had dilated, making her eyes appear even larger. Up close he could see it was not only her forearms which were freckled but the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks were spattered with the pale dots. Her eyelashes, although free of the lash tint ladies of the court favoured, were long and curled. Her lips parted slightly as she drew in a breath. Vilas reached for her, slipping a hand around the back of her neck. She was compliant as he pulled her close, enjoying how soft her curves felt against his rigid body. Her lips were warm and slightly moist as he covered them with his own, gently pushing his tongue between them. She moaned quietly and arched against him. She tasted as sweet as he had hoped.

  Maybe this was all he needed to break the strange spell she had cast upon him. If he could taste her, enjoy her for tonight, maybe it would satisfy the strange hunger growing inside of him.

  ‘Oi, oi, Boss!’ a voice hollered. ‘Up to your normal tricks...you can never resist a pretty woman!’

  Maerie pulled away first, her cheeks flushed. Reluctantly, Vilas released her. His heart pounded in his chest. He turned to face the grinning soldier. ‘Was there something you wanted specifically, or did you just come to leer?’

  The soldier standing on the veranda steps grinned. ‘Just came to tell you the king wants an update in the morning as soon as the sun rises.’

  ‘Did he specifically ask for me?’ Vilas, not knowing what to do with his hands now, shoved them in his pockets.

  The grinning soldier nodded. ‘Yup.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Shall I tell the lads not to disturb you for the rest of the night?’ the soldier asked cheekily, winking. ‘Seems like you have your hands full here, like usual!’

  ‘That will not be necessary.’ Vilas waved the other man away. ‘If I am needed, you all know where I am.’

  He waited until the soldier was out of earshot before sitting down in the chair next to the bowl Maerie had prepared. There was not the time to enjoy this brief interlude away from the young king. He had a job to do and could not do it if his head, and other parts of his anatomy, were hankering after a pretty distraction. If he wanted one of those, many could be found in a nearby tavern. He had to remain focussed, in control and strong.

  ‘I apologise, that should not have happened.’

  Maerie looked hurt.

  Vilas quickly rose. Wanting to touch Maerie, yet not knowing whether to, he opted to hold back. ‘I should not have kissed you; it was weakness on my part.’

  He must stop this, it was becoming ridiculous!

  ‘Weakness?’ Maerie’s voice rose to a squeak.

  Vilas raked a hand through his hair, wincing as he inadvertently caught a scorched patch. ‘I do apologise, I’m not usually so bad at this sort of thing. In fact, it is what I am normally best at. Being around you seems to have robbed me of all my senses. I can’t decide whether I want to kiss you.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’ Maerie cried. ‘It sounded like an insult!’ She pulled at her clothes. ‘Would it be easier if I was dressed in fine clothes? Would you want to kiss me if I was wearing layers of silk and lace?’

  Abandoning his reserve, Vilas stood and reached for her, relieved when she allowed him to encircle her within his embrace. She fitted snugly under his chin and he wondered whether she could hear the racing of his heart.

  ‘You could be dressed in a sack and it would make no difference to me,’ he replied honestly. ‘There is something about you, Maerie, which I can’t quite put my finger on. It is as if you are a sorceress who has cast a spell over me.’

  ‘I assure you, I am no sorceress.’

  ‘But you are no ordinary farmer’s daughter either.’ Vilas kissed the top of Maerie’s head, smoothing down wayward strands of her damp hair.

  ‘What else do you think I am?’

  ‘A temptation.’ Vilas held her at arm’s length. ‘And one I shouldn’t be succumbing to while I am on duty.’

  It would be easier to have her, to enjoy the pleasure he was sure would be found in their union. Anything would surely be easier than this strange emotion he was feeling now.

  ‘What makes you think you are the only one tempted?’ Maerie cocked her head to one side.

  Vilas laughed. ‘It would appear I am more like Hashir than I had thought.’

  Maerie was silent.

  ‘I didn’t mean I collect things,’ Vilas continued hastily, not liking the look passing across Maerie’s face. ‘I mean, as in I, too, am looking for someone to want me, not just someone I can take.’

  Maerie’s tone was indignant. ‘Was kissing you not enough of a sign that I want you?’ She blushed. ‘I don’t go around throwing myself at every soldier I meet.’

  Laughter bubbled up inside Vilas. ‘Commander.’

  Maerie let out a huff. ‘Semantics.’

  With the most reserve he had ever had to muster, Vilas gently pushed Maerie away. ‘I don’t want to abuse my position.’ He held up a finger as she opened her mouth to object. ‘We have just met. It is not proper.’

  ‘With the way that soldier spoke to you, I figured propriety doesn’t usually hold you back. It sounds like you enjoy your women.’

  Vilas winced. Unable to meet Maerie’s gaze, he stared across the fields, to the dark line of the forest. ‘I must not forget what I came here to do.’

  ‘Find the princess Oriana and take her back to King Hashir.’

  Vilas rested his hands on the back of the chair. ‘After I have told her exactly what I think of her having killed my father.’

  ‘She killed your father?’

  Vilas squeezed the wooden chair. ‘Yes. It would appear the princess is not as innocent as she should be.’
<
br />   Chapter Seven

  Oriana

  The more Vilas called her Maerie, the more Oriana wished she was Maerie, a farmer’s daughter. Not having known any other life than the one spent in the sanctuary of the castle, she wondered what it would be like to live someplace like this for real, to be allowed to fall in love with someone who was not chosen as a suitor purely because of his lineage. Being a princess had meant the only possible matches for her would have been a prince, or the son of a family with royal ties. It was stupid of her to even think Vilas would ever fall for her knowing who she really was, especially while he thought she had killed his father. She sighed. There was no way to clear her name without revealing her true identity. If she did that, Vilas would cart her off to Hashir to fulfil his duty.

  ‘You should forget about the princess for tonight.’

  Oriana placed her hands on Vilas’ shoulders, pressing against him. Tiptoeing, she trailed a finger across the back of his neck where his curled hair turned up. She giggled as he turned and grabbed her around the waist.

  ‘If you are not a sorceress,’ he said with a glint in his eye. ‘Then you must be an enchantress. Every time you are near me I want to touch you.’

  ‘Let me bathe your burns.’ Oriana pushed out the chair. ‘Sit.’

  ‘As you order.’

  Oriana waited until Vilas was seated. Soaking the bandages in the now cool mixture, she wrung out the excess and peered down at him. He looked in need of sleep, let alone soothing. She felt him tense beneath her as she sat on his knee.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Oriana gently pressed the compress against Vilas’ right cheek. ‘Trying to soothe you.’

  ‘If that’s what you’re aiming for, you should not be sitting on my lap.’

  ‘I can hardly see to your wounds if I’m sitting away from you, can I?’

  ‘You could sit in a chair of your own.’

  Rejection made Oriana bristle. ‘Well, if that’s what you want.’

  Vilas laughed, a deep throaty sound, and wrapped a strong arm around Oriana’s waist, holding her down. ‘You know it’s not. It would be for the best but it is most definitely not what I want.’

  Oriana relaxed. ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked, turning the wadding over and pressing the other side against Vilas’ face.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You should have said so!’ Oriana hastily lowered her hand. ‘I don’t wish to make it worse.’

  Vilas caught her hand. ‘I wanted you to touch me.’

  ‘But not kiss you.’ A knot of emotion she had not experienced before twisted inside Oriana.

  Vilas’ voice was gentle. ‘I want you to do more than kiss me, Maerie, which is why I had to stop.’

  Sitting on Vilas’ lap as he called her by another name hurt Oriana more than she had expected.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Vilas shifted in the chair. ‘That was too much, too soon.’

  ‘Do you say that to all the women you seduce?’

  ‘Do you want the truth or what I usually say when someone asks me that question?’

  ‘The truth.’

  ‘Well then, yes.’

  ‘Then it means nothing.’

  ‘It does when I say it to you.’

  A stab of jealousy surprised Oriana. ‘I bet you say that to all of them!’

  ‘I have never said it to anyone. You wanted the truth.’

  Oriana made to pull out of Vilas’ grasp but he was stronger than her and held on. ‘Let me go!’ she said in frustration, not sure who she was angrier with—herself for being so foolish over a man she hardly knew or Vilas for being who he was.

  ‘Not until you calm down.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me as if I am a child, I am twenty-one-years old!’

  ‘I’m not treating you like a child.’

  ‘Let go of me when I tell you to!’

  ‘Like I said, not until you calm down.’

  Oriana struggled. ‘I command you to release me!’

  Vilas laughed. ‘Command?’

  Whoops, Oriana thought, must remember not to act like a princess. What kind of a farmer’s daughter went around commanding normal people to do as she wished let alone commanders of armies?

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Maerie,’ Vilas said, releasing her. ‘You are the most interesting woman I have ever met. I don’t know quite how to take you.’

  Oriana stood and smoothed down the tunic she was wearing. ‘I’m not so difficult, what you see is what you get.’

  Vilas folded one long leg over the over. ‘Now, I think we both know that isn’t true, Maerie.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Oriana found it difficult to breathe. ‘It is late and time I retired. I will make up a bed for you in Mairsile’s par—’ She stopped herself in time before saying “Mairsile’s parents’ room” and instead said, ‘I mean, I will make up a bed for myself in Mairsile’s room. You can have our parents’ room, I will change the sheets for you.’

  ‘Call me when it is ready.’

  Oriana hurried across the veranda. Was Vilas beginning to suspect she was not who she said she was? He was a tracker after all, surely he would see through her disguise?

  ‘Maerie,’ Vilas called. ‘Maerie!’

  His increase in volume made Oriana realise she had not responded when she should have. ‘Yes?’ She turned to look back at him from the doorway.

  Vilas took a long time to answer. There was an unfathomable look in his eyes. ‘Why do you have to make up a bed in Mairsile’s room, do you not have your own?’

  Time slowed. Oriana could feel every hair on her body prickle anxiously. The sounds of the night, an owl flying overhead, the gentle rustle of the crops in the breeze, raindrops splattering the ground, the muffled voices of the soldiers bedding down in the barn, all intensified. Apprehension left a sour taste in her mouth as her tongue stuck to the roof of it.

  Think fast.

  ‘Maerie?’ Vilas stood.

  Think even faster.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  Lie. Hurry up, lie!

  ‘I did hear you,’ Oriana replied. ‘I just haven’t lived here for a while.’

  Vilas frowned. ‘Why not, where were you?’

  ‘Travelling.’

  ‘On your own?’

  That was a rubbish lie. Where would she have been travelling on her own? Suddenly she had an idea. ‘I was visiting a special physician.’

  ‘You were?’ Vilas sounded suspicious and Oriana was not entirely sure if she was imagining it.

  ‘Yes,’ Oriana continued, ‘one who specialises in fertility issues.’

  Her words stopped Vilas in his tracks. ‘You are betrothed.’

  Stupid idea, ridiculous. Tell him you are not.

  Vilas retreated to the chair. ‘I apologise, it is none of my business. I will not detain you any further, please continue with what you were about to do.’

  Tell him!

  Vilas lowered into the chair and folded his arms across his chest at the same time as closing his eyes. He could not have pulled away from her any faster than if she had told him her real name.

  It was for the best, Oriana told herself, making her way upstairs.

  Vilas could never be the man for her.

  She found fresh linen in a chest in the upstairs hallway and made the double bed for Vilas in Mairsile’s parents’ room. After changing the sheets on Mairsile’s small bed for herself, she returned to the main bedroom and quickly selected several items of clothing from the wardrobe.

  ‘Did you all share one wardrobe?’

  Oriana jumped, dropping the clothes over the floor. ‘Are you spying on me?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Oriana did not believe him. ‘If you must know,’ she replied, thinking faster this time. ‘We shared clothes.’

  Vilas’ lips twitched. ‘All of you? Even your father?’

  Oriana scooped up the clothing. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course not.’

  Vilas stepped aside, allowi
ng her to pass him. ‘Lock your door before you go to sleep.’

  ‘I thought you said I can trust you.’

  ‘Just lock your door.’ He grabbed her elbow, his grip tight. ‘Do as I say.’

  ‘You’re hurting me!’ Oriana wrenched her arm free.

  Vilas stood, motionless, while Oriana hurried down the corridor. His frame filled the bedroom doorway and his face was cast into shadows. Oriana shivered. She was still shaking by the time she reached Mairsile’s bedroom. With a trembling hand, she pushed the thin latch lock into place, unable to shake from her mind the image of Vilas standing in the other bedroom as he had watched her walk away.

  Having just fallen into the surreal place which floated between consciousness and sleep, Oriana’s mind struggled to work out if what she was hearing was real. Through the dream-fog she heard what sounded like a soft thud, then another, and another. Slowly, the dream-fog dissipated and she realised it was not thuds but footsteps.

  In the room with her.

  Pinging upright into a sitting position, her eyes tried to focus in the darkness. The noise stopped. She clearly had not been in bed long for it was still night. She drew in a sharp breath as there was a scuffling sound.

  A mouse?

  Another scuffle.

  No, not a mouse but feet sliding closer across the wooden floorboards!

  Oriana screamed.

  Everything happened so fast.

  The bedroom door crashed open to reveal Vilas with a lantern hanging from one hand and his sword in the other.

  Oriana, pressed up against the headboard of the bed, sheet held up to her face, looked from the startled expression of the soldier in her bedroom, to Vilas’ angry face.

  Vilas carefully set the glass lantern on the floor. Even though he was wearing only his undershirt, he looked the angriest Oriana had ever seen anyone. He even looked angrier than his father Anearr had when he had tried to kill her by the moat.

  ‘You.’ Vilas pointed the sword at the intruder. ‘What the devil do you think you are doing?’

  The soldier fidgeted nervously. His fingers hovered around the grip of his own sword. ‘I thought...’