by Alexa Aston
An indefinable emotion pierced him as hope faded from her eyes. Was it understanding? Concern? He shouldn’t have spoken his thoughts, but merely acceded to her request. Why not kiss her, if doing so would make her happy? What harm could there be? He had wanted to yesterday, as he’d told her. There was no chance of going any further right now, and it might help them both take their minds off waiting for the herald to fetch her and the yawning uncertainty of what lay ahead. Definitely a better way to pass the time than pacing the small hut.
If one kiss would restore the light to her eyes, ’twas a small price to pay. And it might be his only chance for any intimacy with Aline. The king’s offer had stunned him, too. If her father accepted it, she could be taken from him forever.
At least they’d have this moment to remember.
Aline closed her eyes, a torrent of embarrassment preventing her from looking at the handsome man before her. She couldn’t bear to see his gaze fill with pity or any other unsavory emotion. Not surprising that she’d been mistaken about his interest in her despite his words, as she had so little experience beyond casual flirting at feasts. But he certainly didn’t have to be so blunt about the lack of it. Nor had she anticipated that his rejection might open an aching hole deep in her chest. She had to regain her dignity.
She opened her eyes. “Never mind. ’Twas just a woman’s foolish dream on a what will surely prove to be a most difficult day.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do as you ask. You’re right. Sharing pleasure right now is one of the few things we can control.” He leaned forward, so near she could again smell the fresh scent of his soap, and lightly touched her lips with his own.
“There.” He folded his arms and sat back. “One kiss.”
That wasn’t even close to what she had in mind. She’d seen couples kiss now and again, eyes closed, leaning into each other, holding on as if they never wanted to let go, oblivious to the world around them.
She wanted that. With him.
“I’m sure you can do better. Don’t tell me you’ve never—” She couldn’t finish. She felt herself blush at the wayward nature of her thoughts. How many women had he kissed? Or known?
This was too strange, too awkward. She should’ve kept her wishes to herself. Then again, better to feel anything but fear and panic today.
“We need not delve into my past to resolve this.” He paused, an intriguing thoughtful expression on his face. If only he’d kiss her again, and mean it. “Yes, I can do better. Much.”
Apollo slid closer, but though she could feel his delicious heat, didn’t touch her. She wanted him to. Wanted him to put his arms around her again or run his fingers through her hair. To choose her even for the moment because he wanted to, not because he was ordered to by his king. So she could feel she had some value beyond a pawn in a chess game sacrificed so more powerful pieces could continue on their important journey.
He braced himself with a hand on wall near her head. His gaze, focused so intently on her, filled her with anticipation.
Aline couldn’t breathe. Why had she asked this of him? Her heart pounded so loudly, could he hear it, too? Her face flushed as she heard and felt each breath he took. In, out. In, out. Soft air caressing her skin. Not enough. She needed more, but wasn’t brave enough to close the short distance between them. To touch him.
The moment stretched.
Slowly he bent closer, ever closer, until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth away. His golden brown eyes met hers as he put his hand against her cheek. His breath was soft and smelled faintly of fennel.
Then Apollo kissed her.
His lips were soothing, then demanding as they moved on hers. Exactly what she’d dreamed of. After a moment, she opened for his tongue. Blood rushed through her veins as the kiss deepened. Her arms tingled. She felt dizzy.
Was she going to faint? Did all kisses with any man feel this way? Is this what the couples she’d seen had shared? No wonder her parents had kept her and her sisters from being alone with men.
She leaned into him, savoring each sensation.
His hands slid into her hair, sending delicious chills over her scalp as he kissed her again. He pulled her tight against him. Her chest pressed against his. So good. As she slid her arms around him, his leashed strength made her woman’s parts tingle. Her insides were in an uproar and she craved…more.
Abruptly, he pulled away.
She gaped, struggling to regain her composure.
He left without a word.
Sudden tears dripped down her face. Her emotions seemed out of her control, too. Had Apollo enjoyed that as much as she had, and left because he feared the force of his desire? Or because it was the worst kiss he’d ever had, and he couldn’t bear to let her know? What a fanciful fool. She’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for. That should be the end of it.
Then she realized she was alone. Should she run…while the army was busy preparing for battle?
She grabbed her cloak. And almost collided with a herald in the king’s deep blue livery with a gold fleur-de-lis on his chest. “Lady Aline, it’s time.”
Chapter Eight
Strong winds blew off her cloak’s hood as she and the herald approached the army’s front line. Walking through rows of soldiers holding pikes as they stood at attention between the tall wood watch towers terrified her, but she didn’t show it.
Apollo was already there. Why had he left so suddenly? Their kiss had been amazing, for her at least. She’d felt special, cared for and wished for more. Kisses from Apollo were just what she needed before this.
She shivered as she replaced the hood and held it close around her chin, from the cold and the circumstances. She hadn’t seen any member of her family in weeks and didn’t even know the fate of her siblings and mother. Not that she was sure she wanted to see her father.
Aline had thought she, too, would travel to the chateau, but the herald raised a hand and went on alone. Apparently her presence among the French would suffice.
This viewpoint offered a spectacular view of the formidable chateau. The vast stone structure built by Richard I with its many round towers sat high on a promontory overlooking the Seine. Siege machines called mangonels that had thrown rocks at the walls over and over had left pockmarks, but hadn’t caused a breach.
Boats with wood towers built atop them floated on the river. So this is what King Philip’s army had been working on in addition to trying to sap the walls. Another shiver racked her. Would the thick stone walls continue to prevent their success?
Her father appeared at the top of the wall, standing in a crenel. He wore chainmail and carried his helm under his arm. Did she imagine that his hair was grayer, or was it merely the glint of sunlight?
She couldn’t hear the herald’s words. The shake of her father’s head told her all she needed to know. He refused the exchange, as she’d expected. Yet how many times must she endure her father’s rejection?
Either he was confident the fortress couldn’t be breached and that they could wait out the siege with remaining supplies or until King John sent aid, despite the ships and siege tower awaiting the king’s command. Or maybe he didn’t trust Philip not to harm anyone if he agreed to the exchange and preferred to take his chances in battle. Maybe he was determined to not appear weak.
Her father looked up, and straight at her. Her heart stopped. After so many weeks, was he finally going to acknowledge her? Or was he actually looking at King Philip? She wasn’t sure until he ran a finger over his left eyebrow.
Tears filled her eyes, and she swallowed hard so she wouldn’t cry. He’d signaled her with their special gesture. She’d first smoothed his bushy brows as a young girl sitting on his lap, at first frustrated that they wouldn’t lie flat when she wanted them to, then amused by the way they bounced back up. They’d played that game over and over, laughing and laughing. Such a simple way to create a bond between father and child.
He still loved her. She understood, though it didn’t alleviat
e memories of her suffering. Was he telling her couldn’t have let them all in, and thus he couldn’t have let only her in…that as a commander, he couldn’t show her special treatment? If he’d seen how cold and afraid she’d been, he might have wavered. Great sacrifice was a sad truth of war. She ran a finger over her eyebrow to let him know she’d received his message. He nodded, then turned and went inside.
Her heart surged, tears threatening once more. Could all of this have been prevented? If her father wanted her to stay, wouldn’t he have sought her out before issuing the command to leave? So many questions, so few answers.
She turned to the side as tears dripped down her cheeks and she swiped them away. She might never see her father again. If only they had a similar code for the welfare of her mother and siblings. Longing to be reunited with her family clutched her heart. If they all survived, would they be able to put this behind them and live happily again? She shivered, then closed her eyes and imagined them all sharing a meal at their home in England. Her sisters would be smiling as they had months ago—
Apollo took off his cloak and put it around her. The heavy wool retained his heat and smelled of him. She wished she could stay enveloped in comfort, for the day had barely begun.
“Seeing your father for the first time in so long must’ve been difficult…and made worse by what he decided. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Your concern is a balm. I feel less alone.”
“I’m glad. I wish I could do more.”
“Being helpless is horrible. Clearly our kings think the end will be worth the means. For them, at least, if not for their people.”
Their gazes met for a long moment. All that had happened and uncertainty about what was to come immobilized her.
The herald returned with the message they’d already guessed. He kept his focus on the ground.
Aline didn’t know her heart could sink lower, but it did. She whispered, “Apollo. Does that happen to you…forced to deliver news you know the recipient doesn’t want to hear?”
“Yes. Since I didn’t create the message and have no input into how it’s interpreted or carried out, I make peace with that. I’ve done my job if I’ve brought the news as swiftly as possible. And I’ve learned to keep my opinion to myself when I disagree with responses—”
“That is most unfortunate. Then you shall return apace and tell him We will kill his daughter,” the king ordered the herald.
“Sire,” Apollo began.
“Your Grace!” she cried. “Please. I beg you. You can see my life is meaningless to my father. He denied me admittance for weeks, left me to freeze in the ditch with the others and wouldn’t accept me today despite your most gracious offer.” Despite the king’s glare, Aline didn’t regret her outburst, and was glad she’d summoned the courage to stand up for herself.
“I’ll think on it.” King Philip pursed his lips. “Apollo, take her back to your hut. I’ll send for you if needed. We’ll proceed as planned.”
Though her heart raced so fast her chest hurt, though she and some members of her family might perish today, she dared ask, “May I remain to watch?”
From a very safe distance to avoid returned fire. Her father would be shooting at her. Never had she thought it would come to that.
Choosing to remain in the cold she’d come to despise did seem odd. Being able to make some choice, even about this, made her feel stronger. How it would affect her should the chateau fall?
“You wish to behold Our victory over your English? Why not? Adieu.” The king and his men left her and Apollo alone.
“Would he really have me killed?” she whispered. Her throat was too tight to speak louder. “And after promising me to you?”
Apollo shrugged. “We are at war. Even what seems unfair or wrong might be justifiable. Depending on which side you’re on. And how much power you have.”
“I respect you for being a staunch supporter of your king. How far would you go for him? Would you jump off the cliff to your death if he asked you to? Where do you draw the line if you don’t draw it at murdering not only an innocent woman but your betrothed?” Her fingers were like ice. The lack of gloves served as yet another reminder of her precarious situation.
“You may be innocent, but you’re still the daughter of the leader of the enemy.” At least he hadn’t said “our.” “The man who represents your king in my country. I may disagree with things my king does, but that doesn’t mean I can or will take action against him. My position and very life would be at risk.”
Apollo had spoken in a friendly tone. After his abrupt departure from the hut after their kiss, she didn’t dare take his hand or rely on him for solace.
Not that she wanted to make any effort to show how she felt, but she remembered how warm his hands were. “What if he asked you to kill me? What then? Could you go that far?”
“Let us pray things don’t come to that. I doubt I could kill anyone, much less you, Aline.”
Small comfort. “Then can you help me flee? Please. King Philip doesn’t have to know. If you don’t and he decides to kill me to prove his callousness to my father, my death will be on your hands, too, whether or not you hold the sword.”
His hair blew in the wind. His expression was as icy as she was. “Aline, I do want to, but I can’t.”
Though she’d expected that response, it saddened her. Why should he be loyal to or care enough about her, a woman he barely knew and whom he had already gone out of his way to help, over the man who not only paid his wages but could have him imprisoned or killed?
“Would you answer differently if we were man and wife?”
He lowered his head. “I don’t know, Aline. I’d have to confer with a priest or scholar to confirm whether loyalty to one’s wife comes before one’s king.”
“I can’t stop shivering. I’m going inside to warm up until the attack begins.”
“I’ll go with you. I’ll have Antoine let us know when to come back out.”
She’d wanted to be alone, but couldn’t ask him to leave his own hut. They paced the small space for what seemed like hours. Whenever she heard a bang or loud noise, she jumped. Had it begun? False alarm after false alarm kept her on edge.
Their gazes met every so often, but there didn’t seem to be anything left to say. She realized that she’d rather have more kisses, both to distract her and because they were so enjoyable. They didn’t seem close enough for that any longer.
“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Let’s play chess to focus on something besides waiting.”
Anything to break the silence. “Yes. A bit like fiddling while Rome burned, but there’s nothing either of us can do to change the course of the day or the outcome.”
She sat as he arranged the chess pieces into their starting positions on the board. For the first few minutes, they focused on the game. They were well-matched. Though it was quiet in the hut, the air seemed vibrant with tension. News could arrive at any moment.
“Good move,” he said when she captured his bishop.
“My mother loves chess. Loved?” A sob escaped her. She dropped his piece and bent to retrieve it. “We used to play every night.”
“Stay with me,” Apollo said softly. “Worrying about what might happen won’t change the outcome. Tell me about your childhood.”
Aline appreciated his effort to calm her. “We had a gorgeous manor in Cheshire, and I was raised in a loving family with every comfort. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” At least she’d had many wonderful years. “And you? Apollo seems an odd name for a Norman,” she ventured.
“I was raised here in Normandy, near Rouen. My father is a scholar who teaches mythology, so my parents named their children after Greek gods. My younger sister Artemis—not my twin, he added with a wide smile, “has two children.”
Whether or not he wanted to live in one place, the affectionate gleam in his eyes said he clearly loved children. He’d make a wonderful father, no matter the heritage of his offspring. Was
she softening to the idea of their marriage now that it seemed impossible? No.
“Phoebe is eight and Helios six,” he continued. “They—”
“—are named after Titans.” Why did she feel the need to show Apollo she knew something of mythology? Because she wanted him to smile, which he did. She could sit and watch him for hours.
“Yes, Phoebe was the Titan of intellect and the Delphic oracle, and Helios was Titan of the sun, sight and oaths. Artemis appreciates the origin of our names and wanted her children to share in that. Make them part of the family in another way.”
Belonging. Family. Could she have that with Apollo, despite their different beliefs?
“My mother liked to tell tales of the Greek gods and their offspring at bedtime. One of my favorites was of Helen of Troy—I wanted to be as beautiful and renowned as she. The sin of pride, I know. I found various tales about her fascinating…did Paris abduct her or seduce her? That men promised to go to war for her.”
“My favorite is Hercules. Phoebe and Helios love it when I tell them of his labors. Though I don’t get to see my family as often as I’d like,” he added.
But if he were a lord and traveled less….
Apollo slid his queen forward, then paused and looked at her as if she’d spoken her thoughts. He moved the queen back to her original square without breaking their gaze.
“Aline.” He leaned forward.
She met him halfway. Her troubles faded as his mouth moved over hers. As he ran his hands over her back. All she could think was more more more. Pieces tumbled to the floor, the game forgotten. They stood, fitting into each other’s embrace as if they’d known each other for years, not days.
Apollo’s kisses sparked feelings so amazing that, for a few moments, they even made her stop worrying about the impending battle.
When the kiss ended, Apollo pulled her close for another. She leaned into him and held him tighter. His body urged him to continue. His mind wasn’t sure she was ready.
