by Alexa Aston
“You’re not responsible for his actions, nor can you outwardly oppose them. Knowing all of that, how can I willingly accept you, the king’s man, who supports the French cause? We can’t comprehend what else you’ll be commanded to do that could harm me or my people. Living with constant uncertainty that all we have could be revoked at any instant…how could I feel at ease in my own home?”
“Aline, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry—”
Antoine entered with a tray of bread and cheese and set it on the table. “Monsieur, the king wishes me to tell you the wedding will have to be postponed.”
Aline couldn’t prevent a gasp of relief. Apollo’s expression didn’t change.
“Because he plans to invade the chateau on the morrow,” Antoine finished. He lit another candle, then added it to the tray.
Her stomach sank faster than the anchor on the ship on which they’d sailed to France. She’d been granted another reprieve, though she despised the reason behind it and regretted that the answer to her prayer for more time could result in her father’s death or imprisonment.
Her heart thudded painfully. This was her last chance to warn her people. She was still English, despite her father’s abandonment. Just as Apollo was French despite his liege’s heinous actions.
“Thank you, Antoine.” Apollo stood. His lips pressed into a thin line, which she’d learned meant there was more he wanted to say. “Aline, I can’t blame you for where your loyalties lie. I don’t want to restrain you, but I don’t trust you not to run. So you’ll be kept under guard constantly until the battle is done.”
She drew in a long breath, but didn’t protest.
Would this day never end? She should be hungry, but the food lacked appeal. Yes, she was very fortunate to have frequent bread and sustenance, given the limited rations remaining in the chateau. Would the siege truly end tomorrow…had the French found the access that had eluded them for months?
How tired she was of wearing her public face. She used to enjoy it when her parents entertained and she met their friends, proud to act the daughter of the house. Being forced to do something, and amidst enemies no less, made being pleasant a struggle, though the actual people were pleasant. And kinder than she’d have expected. Apollo didn’t deserve the brunt of her fear or anger.
“In any case, fleeing would likely result in disaster.” Apollo used the knife he wore on his belt to cut a slice of cheese and tore off a chunk of bread. He handed them to her. In response to his thoughtfulness, she accepted them. “If you went to your father, even if he let you in and believed you, are you willing to risk death in a chateau that will soon be under attack rather than marry me? Or is the chance of saving someone else’s life more important to you than living out your own?”
He’d hit upon the crux of the matter.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t seek death or to be a martyr to my cause.” She just wanted to do what was right. If only she could be certain what that was.
“If you went in the other direction, what would happen? Would you freeze, be raped, or worse, by fellow travelers?” He loomed over her.
Tears stung her eyes. “You’re being cruel. I could also happen upon someone who would be kind me. Who, as you did, took pity on an innocent victim of the war between our countries.”
“Yes. And yes, there is a possibility you’d succeed,” he admitted. “I don’t want you to act out of desperation when the chance is so small. I want to show you the error of your ways and make you see why accepting my hand in marriage is the best option you’ll ever have.”
Ever. So final. So permanent. So not what she’d hoped for. “You wish the wedding had taken place?”
“I won’t go against my king or my God.”
“That’s not desire, or even acceptance. That’s submission.” She’d thought he had a stronger spine.
“Whatever the word, what matters is that I’ve made peace with my former goals and am ready to go forth with you, foe or not, unwilling or not. And you should find a way to make peace, too. Because I’d prefer you willing than resistant.”
“I’d prefer it, too, but don’t know how to will it to be so. If I had a fever, could I make it go away by wishing it would? Even by praying more than I already have been?”
He sighed. “We should get some rest.”
“Tomorrow is likely to be a long and stressful day.” As if the night would be less so. How she could stop thinking about the impending attack she couldn’t do anything to prevent? Did belief in their cause allow kings to rest easy, knowing they or their men could die within hours?
Apollo removed his tunic and hung it on a hook. His allure was potent enough to draw her focus from what the morrow could bring. The sight of his muscled thighs beneath his chainse unsettled her. What would he remove next? She should look away, but didn’t want to.
“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked as she reached for the shirt of his she’d worn.
“Here. Where else? This is my home for the nonce. And my bed. You’re about to be my wife.”
“But I’m not, yet.” Oh, for more delays until she could think of a better solution to freedom.
“Where do you think I slept the first two nights you were here? On a cot Antoine delivered, so I wouldn’t disturb you. Far too short and narrow for me. I won’t sleep there any longer, now that you’re well.”
She couldn’t stop him.
Part of her was pleased, even excited by the thought of spending the night next to him. She couldn’t seem to get enough of his body heat and scent. The other part of her was unsure. Who knew what he or she might want if he shared her…his…bed, which didn’t seem quite large enough for two. She didn’t want to learn how weak loneliness and fear of the unknown made her. She wasn’t ready to make love, despite the womanly—surely there was a better word—way her body felt whenever he was near.
Wait. Where was the part that didn’t, shouldn’t want him…in bed or anywhere else? Surely it would resurface if she got some sleep.
Antoine happened to return with the cot. He quickly set it up, then left them alone.
“I’ll sleep there,” she offered. “It’s not too short or narrow for me.”
For a minute, she thought he’d refuse. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Though being wrapped in his arms would make the long night pass more agreeably. She wanted to listen to him breathe, feel his chest rise and fall against her back as he held her. Hear his heartbeat match hers. Feel protected for a few hours.
Learn whatever it was lovers did in the middle of the night. Was it wrong to allow her interest in him to push aside her fears for a few hours?
“Very well. Let me unlace your gown,” he said. “I’ll turn away while you change.”
Aline turned, anticipating his fingers on her clothed back. He touched her neck, sending a tingle down her spine. Glad he couldn’t see her blush, she wished her mind would rule her body.
She had control over nothing. Nothing.
Slowly his fingers traced a path across her skin to the ties, then he slowly pulled each cord. She willed him to hurry. His nearness and the slight rasp of his breath did strange things to her. Finally, cold air swept her back. A gasp escaped her as his finger slid down her spine.
Quickly she changed into his large shirt and climbed into the cot, covers clutched above her chest.
As he finished undressing, Aline couldn’t look away. There wasn’t really anywhere else to look without facing the wall. She could close her eyes. That little bit of power she did have. But if she wasn’t going to have him beside her, she’d have this.
He removed his chainse, hose and shoes. Her first view of a naked man, if only from the side. She folded her fingers into fists to curb yearning to run them over the impressive display of muscles on his chest and stomach, tapering down to…. The fascinating curve of his backside down to his powerful thigh…. She blushed again and felt foolish for staring. Had he noticed? She’d never had the opportunity to peruse a male f
orm other than as represented by statues. This man surely was a fine sight to behold.
She shouldn’t think of him but work harder to figure out how to find her family and be gone from this country before she and Apollo wed. Abandoning him once he was her rightful husband would be much harder and probably illegal as well immoral.
It was as if each country had a hold of one of her arms and pulled, north for England and south for France. If she weren’t careful, she’d be torn in two.
Chapter Seven
After Apollo dressed the next morning, Jehanne brought her a plain but clean brown gown of coarse wool. She appreciated that this garment lacked an odor, but still missed her own. She yearned for anything familiar and thus comforting as she added the cloak and a fur pelt. Missing her belongings seemed silly in light of all of her serious problems, but needing to borrow everything, even a chemise, made her feel even more the helpless outsider.
The uncertainty of not knowing where she’d live burrowed deep. Would she ever feel at home again? Despite the thick clothing, she remained chilled to the bone.
Should she watch the day’s events unfold? What would she see from the French vantage point? She owed it to herself, her family and her people to serve as witness. Any pain would be preferable to not knowing and would make her feel she made some, albeit small, contribution. Not hiding away, but facing the brutal truth head on.
The king appeared at Apollo’s door in full battle attire, from his chainmail shirt covered by a blue tabard to his silver helm. Her heart beat faster and her hands clenched. She wouldn’t quail, though his determined expression didn’t bode well for her family. When would she be free of him?
After she and Apollo rose from their bows, Philip said, “I’ve been praying for God to smile on us in victory. My men say they’re ready to set fire to the wood frame they built in the tunnel, and our tower is ready. If they’ve done their jobs, the walls should fall today. Before We proceed, We wish to be merciful by giving the English one final chance to accede.
“The remaining useless mouths are on their own. I’ve done all I can.”
“My thanks,” Aline whispered, her heart full. Were they strong enough to survive? Would they resume peaceful lives? At least they weren’t trapped.
The king continued, “I shall take advantage of your presence in our camp, Lady Aline, by offering your father an exchange: you, in return for him handing the chateau over to Me without a fight. If he agrees, no one will die today. I’ll need you to come with my herald so your father can see you.”
Panic and gratitude flooded her, the force of the odd mix making her stomach churn and throat tighten. “Sire, that is most kind.”
Perhaps she could contribute to saving lives after all. Her hopes and worries were for naught, because her father probably wouldn’t make the exchange. King Philip knew her father hadn’t allowed her to return. Was he playing some sort of game with her as bait? Should she speak up and show loyalty to the liege lord of the man who’d given her succor? Did the king believe that, with the stakes so high, her father would finally agree to surrender, or did he merely hope to prove he was merciful when her father was not?
Had conditions for her father and his men worsened since she’d last seen him…were they so miserable they’d willingly surrender, when they hadn’t for months? And what about the hundreds of people who’d been released, had they found safe havens?
“It’s also practical, and beneficial to us both,” the king said. “Neither army has to abide injuries or deaths. Nor would the chateau suffer additional damage I’d have to spend a significant amount of man hours and coin to repair.”
Apollo didn’t look pleased, but he’d told her he wouldn’t gainsay his king. Then again, he knew the chances of this succeeding were slim. If it did, she’d never see him again.
Her heart wrenched. She’d come to care for him so quickly. No matter, for he was Norman.
Focus on today.
“If the exchange is accepted, will Lady Aline return to England with her father or remain here and wed with me?” Apollo asked. “To bind our people, as you said.”
The king’s slight smile revealed nothing. “We shall see.”
Aline had assumed she’d stay with her family. “What does that mean?” she dared ask, as bruised as if she were the ball kicked back and forth by boys in the chateau’s bailey. Being trapped in the cold with no relief in sight was worse, but must her life from now on always be the better of two abysmal options?
King Philip didn’t deign to reply.
She closed her eyes, picturing herself strolling through her garden with lilies, cowslips, daisies and more abloom in dappled sunlight. A deep breath almost allowed her to smell the flowers. An ache for her simple life back home brought tears to her eyes. Was it possible to return to that carefree state? She lowered her gaze so the keen Apollo wouldn’t notice. Kindness from him at this moment would break her.
“The herald will fetch you shortly. Be ready,” Philip called over his shoulder as he left.
“What does the king intend?” She stood, her hands on the soft fur of the pelts. Small comfort in a world of turmoil. “At first I assumed the king would just hand me over to my father—assuming he wants me back. Then I feared he meant to trick my father by offering me while still demanding I marry you. And then…did he make an idle threat, or is my life in danger?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know.” Apollo looked as lost as she felt. “I’ve never known him to do something like this. He could mean any of those things, depending on how he reacts to whatever your father decides.”
Did Apollo care that they might not wed? What would make her happiest? Hopelessness enveloped her. She did need his reassurance, after all. It wouldn’t break her. It would save her.
“I’m frightened.”
He opened his arms. Without hesitation, she let him enfold her in now-familiar Apollo-scented warmth and solace. Instantly, she felt safe, as though he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Protected, though he had as little control over what happened as she.
Concern over her uncertain fate sapped her fleeting sense of peace. She didn’t want to marry Apollo, but didn’t want to leave him, either. The thought of never seeing him again rankled and seared her with loneliness. She wanted to get to know him and learn what he liked and disliked. Was she being contrary to want what she now might not have but didn’t want when she could’ve had it?
He’d said he was attracted to her. If he compromised her, maybe she could stay with him even if her father accepted the exchange. But the king would be furious at them both, and would likely blame Apollo. Being the French army’s captive, held for days in a man’s tent with no chaperone, what reputation did she have left?
In England, she’d only had one suitor. Her father hadn’t approved because her swain lacked land. She’d thought him attractive and had wanted to get to know him, wondering if this man could be her husband.
When her father refused to let him visit again, she’d been disappointed, not broken-hearted. After that, the time never seemed right, her father had said, to have her wed.
Who would she meet in France? The lack of potential husbands was just one more thing she’d hated about life in the chateau. She wanted a house and family of her own more than anything. And at six-and-twenty, she might be running out of time to find a husband to be part of making her dream come true. Yet against all odds, she had met a wonderful man.
She wanted to scream. No matter how hard she tried to find a way to control her circumstances, the outcome for others would be worse than for her if she acted upon any of her ideas. But there was one thing she could try: to experience a bit of joy before it was too late. To forget for just a moment the worst of what today and her future could bring.
“I think you should kiss me,” she said.
“What?” Not that Apollo didn’t like the idea of kissing Aline, and often. Not that he didn’t like having her in his arms, both because he enjoyed being with her and to be
sure she wasn’t off trying to carry out some lunatic scheme. His body tightened at the thought of tasting her. Hearing her moan. Making her….
“There’s so little I can control. Even back at home,” she continued. “You see, my parents were quite strict. They wanted me to be a good influence for my younger siblings, so I wasn’t allowed to be alone with a boy, much less a man. I’ve never been kissed. At social gatherings, I sensed my parents’ watching me, and so didn’t encourage anyone. Because once when I spoke overlong with Adam, the chandler’s son, I incurred my father’s wrath.
“The time has long passed for me to make my own choices. And I want to know how it feels to kiss. To kiss you. I thought, and I admit hoped, you were going to do so yesterday, but then the women came in.” She blushed prettily. “There’s a chance I could die or that we could be separated forever. I know it’s a rather awkward request. If it would be distasteful to you, please say so, and I’ll—” Aline tensed, as if absorbing the enormity of what she’d boldly asked, what she’d confessed to a man she’d met only recently. She ran her fingers over the dark coverlet, clearly trying to hide her embarrassment.
“When people kiss, usually they’re moved by passion, in the moment, not because they’re asked.” No woman had asked him such a thing before. They’d never had to. He preferred short but sweet liaisons with available women, who shared the goal of mutual pleasure that began in the moment, not after discourse about what their relationship meant or their intimate pasts. Doing so now, with Aline, felt uncomfortable yet rewarding. It had been so long since he’d been close to anyone. He’d thought it for the best, to avoid the pain of farewells or worse, death, but she was changing his mind.
Aline sat on the bed and sank back onto the bolster. Her face, which had been so endearingly wistful, so full of romantic hope a moment before, closed abruptly at his words.
