by Alexa Aston
Antoine entered, making the decision for him. Another untimely interruption.
“It’s begun.” The lad’s excitement proved he didn’t understand the true horrors of war.
Apollo wanted to be there to support Aline should the worst befall the chateau. Yet he wanted his king, his army, to win. Never had he been in such an untenable position. “I’m torn between two loyalties—my friendship with you and my people. I don’t want my children to ever suffer this misery.” There was no way to know if they would or wouldn’t. “You’re right. Maybe there is still a way to avoid marriage.”
“I wish I weren’t. I’m glad you agree.” She didn’t look glad.
They hurried outside to their safe viewing location. He wouldn’t release her hand. He could tell from her pulse that his heart beat as fast as hers.
In a thunderous clatter, stones tumbled as the wall near the single outer gate on the right side collapsed. Shouts and cheers resounded.
Aline’s free hand flew to cover her mouth.
“We’re in the outer bailey! Hurray!” Swords in hand, a swarm of French soldiers rushed in through the gaping hole.
The king’s army had taken down part of a fortress built to stand the test of time.
He and Aline waited, hand in hand, but couldn’t see or hear much else from the vast chateau. Had the middle and inner baileys been breached?
Eventually soldiers began making their way out, cheering and clapping each other on the back. The first to return couldn’t wait to share the tale.
“We sapped a tower to seize the outer ward. The underground flames caught fast. After the English cowards retreated to the middle bailey, some of us went around to the west side and were able to climb in through the chapel window.”
“God showed us the way,” a tall soldier said.
Some laughed, others celebrated, overfilling cups in their enthusiasm as they poured from wineskins.
“King Phillip was going to attack the keep. But Roger de Lacy finally surrendered.”
“This is a great day! Normandy is lost to the English.”
Aline couldn’t breathe. These soldiers had succeeded in invading the built-to-be impenetrable fortress where she’d lived and her father and some friends still did. Well, how many yet lived? Or were injured?
Perhaps one of the smiling men standing within arm’s length had killed someone she knew. How would she ever feel at home amongst England’s foe?
Apollo didn’t seem to share the soldiers’ elation on the outside. How did he feel inside?
Nothing would ever be the same. “What of my—the chateau commander and his family?”
“I don’t know,” the soldier nearest them said. “Perhaps they were taken prisoner. Casualties have been reported, but they’ve not yet been counted.”
Not knowing gnawed at her. Who was dead, who was alive?
“Do you know how Philip treats his prisoners?” she asked Apollo. “Would they be well-cared for or tossed in a cell, without food or bound in chains?” Despite her father’s decisions, she still worried about him as much as the others.
Apollo put his arm around her, and she welcomed his support. “I don’t know. I never had reason to ask. I can find out.”
“Thank you. Even if the news is bad, I’d rather know than subsist on false hope. And… what becomes of me now?”
“That information needs await the king’s judgment.” He frowned, clearly uneasy as he met her gaze.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” She could say no more.
Apollo tightened his hold on Aline. It seemed a small gesture given her distress, yet there wasn’t much else he could offer and he wanted her close. He’d come to care for her, and didn’t want her or her family—his potential family-by-law—hurt. Yet he celebrated the French victory over her father and the English, while he knew she mourned the loss. How could opposing emotions reconcile?
“It’s over. Shall we go inside?” he asked.
“Can we stay a few minutes longer?”
“Aren’t you cold?”
She looked white as snow. Lifeless. And he was chilled to the bone.
“Yes, but the hut is small and dark. The light of day eases my nerves somehow.”
“I’ll fetch another fur, then.” Was there anything else he could offer to make her feel better?
He grabbed one and returned to drape it over her shoulders. “I felt so torn as the battle raged. Sad for you, yet I couldn’t wish Philip wouldn’t win. No matter the outcome, someone I cared about would lose.
“You’ve warmed my heart. I’m glad you care. As you said, I don’t want our children to feel this way. Mixed loyalties could very well be a major problem. But I simply can’t think of a good way to avoid our marriage if the king wishes it.”
“I can’t either.”
King Phillip had won that battle, too. What could he do to erase the look of defeat on her face?
Chapter Nine
When the added fur Apollo had kindly brought failed to keep out the chill, they returned to his quarters.
Aline missed the open spaces of her home’s great hall and even those of the huge chateau. The hut closed in on her, flickering candlelight not enough to dispel darkness without and within. Her world had narrowed to these wooden walls in a foreign land.
Long moments passed. No one came for them. On the one hand, she hoped the king was so busy gloating and celebrating that he’d forgotten her. At least he hadn’t killed her, yet. On the other, how long could she stay in Apollo’s hut, with nothing to do day after day and no role to play? She’d be a useless mouth to feed all over again. That epithet still pierced sharp as needles. What would become of them?
What an untenable position she was in, with no way to know what tomorrow would bring and possibilities including anything from her wedding to her death.
As night fell with no word, her anxiety increased. The chess game lay abandoned. She forced herself to eat some of the food Antoine brought out of continued gratitude that she was warm enough and had food when others went without.
She jumped at a knock at the door.
The herald entered. “Lady Aline, I thought you’d want to know. We have news of your family. They’re all safe and accounted for in the chateau.”
She sank to her knees and burst into tears.
“Thank you, Michel,” Apollo said.
She wiped her cheeks as Apollo helped her stand. As before, he kept his arm around her. “And how many are not safe? How many died?”
Michel had the grace to look away. “The dead and injured are still being tallied. We should have the totals shortly. Bonsoir.”
“I’m so glad for you, Aline,” Apollo said, enfolding her in a hug.
“Thank you. Michel brought great news, but didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask, what will become of them.” Was the worst over?
She needed something to hold on to. Someone to hold her, who could make her believe all could be well if only for a few hours. Anything to give her tormented mind a rest.
“I want us to sleep in the bed tonight. Together,” Aline announced. “If you want that, too.”
“I do. Are you sure?”
“I’m making an important decision for myself, at last. In the chateau, my choices were what to wear and what to embroider. When the siege began, I couldn’t even choose what to eat, as I could at home, as supplies grew limited. Now, we wait upon the king’s word. If I become your wife, you’ll have authority over me. During this brief interval, not under my father’s roof and not yet wed, I’m beholden only to me. And this is what I want.”
“Good. Very good.”
She smiled. “And when I say sleep, I don’t mean merely falling asleep. I mean—” Her mouth went dry. Tell him what you want. You’re a grown woman. She straightened her shoulders. “I mean I want us to make love.”
She thought brief surprise, then interest flickered across his face. His golden brown eyes narrowed slightly, as they had just before he kissed her. “Eve
n better. If you’re sure.”
“I make a few brash decisions, but this isn’t one of them.” She smiled again.
Antoine arrived with a hot stone to put between the sheets. When he left, Aline hurriedly changed into Apollo’s shirt, then climbed into bed, preening like a cat at the delicious warmth. At least she could appreciate certain moments in her upended life.
Apollo shed his clothing and joined her.
She settled against him as if that was where she belonged, pleased that her small frame fit so well against his large one. A rush of serenity and solace flowed over her. Having him beside her was better and longer lasting than any heated stones. Their conflict didn’t lessen her attraction. Just for tonight, she wouldn’t deny herself the chance to appreciate him and her sanguine mood.
“I can’t seem to let go of the idea that I could’ve prevented the battle, though I know it wasn’t my fault Father didn’t accept the king’s offer. For the nonce, I want you to know I’m glad to be here, with you.” She’d never have experienced the perfect touch of his hard body against her, his warmth, strength and compelling scent. She could lie there for hours just noticing and savoring every detail, from the slow rise and fall of his chest to the safety and succor she felt in his arms.
“I’m glad I can bring you some ease in these difficult and troubling times.”
She just couldn’t get enough of the comfort he imbued. If they married, she’d get to enjoy him every night for the rest of her days. At this moment, quiet, peaceful evenings spent with him away from war and politics sounded wonderful. Maybe this could make up for everything she’d thought she wanted and would lose.
“This is your chance to change your mind, Aline. To say no.” Apollo’s voice was low and husky. “If we continue, you’ll no longer be a virgin. I will ask the king to hold to his offer of the barony with you as my wife. But if he doesn’t allow it, harsh consequences could befall you.”
His words chilled but didn’t deter her. The woman she’d been at the chateau didn’t know how to and would’ve been afraid to take risks. The woman that recent hardships had made her had to take risks and chances.
“I understand. My reputation must be ruined already after spending nights alone with you. I’m still not completely certain Philip won’t have me killed. So I want to savor whatever time I may have left. With you.”
He held her tighter. “I’m glad. Glad to hold you, glad for what this night holds.”
Rolling onto his back, he easily lifted her atop him. The renewed meeting of their bodies, every bit of her pressed against his muscled form, made her moan.
“I like that,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’m not too heavy?”
“No, just right. Kiss me.”
Bracing her hands on the mattress, she did. How quickly he’d learned what she liked, how to plunder her mouth and send ripples of need to her core.
He caressed her under his shirt from her waist to her breasts, then cupped them, rubbing the tender peaks. She moaned again.
“I can’t wait. Touch me. He took her hand and slid it down his thigh, slipping beneath her to find his hardness. Like this.” As she took up the rhythm, he groaned.
“I like that, too. And this.” She squeezed gently.
“Good. Though I don’t know how long I’ll last if you keep on.”
“Good,” she repeated. “I want you inside me. Now.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He entered slowly at first, then pushed past her barrier.
Pain speared her, then receded, leaving tantalizing pressure in its wake. Her head fell back as he filled her, pulled out, and filled her anew.
Sheer bliss exploded. Apollo joined her in ecstasy, then held her close.
As he fell asleep beside her, she cherished every deep breath. And wanted to remain awake to listen to all of them and revisit the pleasures of their lovemaking. This man had made her feel joys she hadn’t known were possible. Whatever happened, she’d never forget this night as long as she lived.
The best of her life.
Once again, they stood in their wedding attire in the king’s tent before the priest as soldiers and her two attendants looked on expectantly.
“The king sends his regrets,” the priest said. “He has other matters to attend to at the chateau.”
She couldn’t prevent a grimace. The French king must be overjoyed as he walked the halls of her erstwhile residence. She had to let that go and focus only on right here, right now.
“But he sent this. I watched him take it off of his finger before he departed.” The priest handed Apollo a gold band with a cabochon sapphire.
“Thank you, Father,” he said.
She should be honored that the king himself was doing so much to ensure that her marriage ceremony kept to some of the traditions, but despite the intimacies she and Apollo had shared, she didn’t feel the joy or surety she’d hoped she would on her wedding day. She reluctantly accepted that she couldn’t, and wasn’t sure she wanted to, avoid marriage. Their lovemaking still resonated, and she wouldn’t say no to more. But binding herself to the enemy scarcely seemed appropriate.
There was something to be said for having decisions made for her. At least lack of choice relieved her of feeling like a failure for making the wrong one. Or a huge mistake.
“And the king has one more surprise for you,” continued the priest. “He can show mercy to the vanquished.”
Her mother and sisters entered, followed by her father and brothers.
Her jaw dropped. Despite their recent defeat at his hands, Philip had allowed her family into his camp to attend her wedding. She wouldn’t worry that what seemed like kindness was a trap and they’d be forced to remain.
Over happy tears, hugs, laughter and relief in the now-crowded hut, Maud said, “We’re so sorry we lost you in the crowd. We turned back at the last minute.”
Maud wore a veil, wimple, and wool bliaut with long, wide sleeves and knotted belt over a tight-sleeved underdress beneath a fur-lined cloak. None of her family looked any worse for wear. Nor had they thought to bring any of her garments or belongings.
Her mother pulled her aside before Aline could introduce her to Apollo. “Look at you! So thin. In our haste to get here, I regret that I didn’t think to bring your best gown. You’re beautiful, nonetheless. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. How you survived so many privations.
“At the chateau, we were down to meager rations. Fear ran rampant as we had no idea when or if there’d be an attack. The invasion was the most frightening of my life. Not knowing when or if the French would ferret us out, the noise, the fighting….” Maud’s eyes filled with tears.
Aline relaxed. She hadn’t known if she’d ever enjoy her mother’s touch again. They had suffered, too.
“We missed you so,” her mother added.
Did “we” include her father, whose expression was unreadable?
If she hadn’t been so determined to leave, so fleet of foot…she wouldn’t have been separated from her family. She wouldn’t have frozen with the others in the ravine.
She never would have met Apollo.
Aline understood some of her father’s reasons for his treatment of her and the others, and was glad he too had survived the battle, yet she ignored him. Minutes before her wedding, she couldn’t revisit the fear, abandonment and agony his actions, or lack thereof, had wrought. There wasn’t enough time now to resolve all of those feelings. No mere apology would suffice, and she didn’t want to cast any clouds in skies she needed to remain blue.
Her mother seemed as if she wanted to say more, but held her tongue. Because of the presence of the king or her father? Aline burned to know how her mother and father had been getting along.
“Everyone, I would like you to meet Sir Apollo de Norville.”
An odd mix of joy and dismay tumbled through Aline as she continued the introductions, which were awkward to say the least. Their greetings were stiff, and not very cordial. Still, her moth
er, whom she so resembled, nodded as Apollo bowed, and her sisters’ expressions showed they approved.
Suddenly her mother burst into tears. The priest looked taken aback as her father patted her on the back. Apollo’s expression didn’t change.
Aline wouldn’t allow her mother’s rigid views and insistence on propriety to make matters worse. “Mother, please don’t. What’s important is that we’re all alive and well and you’re here to witness my wedding. I was desolate to think you wouldn’t share this special day with me.” She took her mother’s hand again and whispered in her ear. “Apollo is a good man despite the country of his birth. He rescued me from the cold. He’s been so kind and helpful, and even caring, though he didn’t want to marry an Englishwoman or leave his position as messenger. Who knows? Father might have chosen someone worse.” Tring to make light of the situation improved her mood and brought a slight smile to her mother’s face.
“But you’re being ordered to wed,” her mother spoke softly. “And, though your groom is quite handsome, he’s Norman. Our enemy, who attacked us mere days ago. And only a lord, and newly made at that. Not handed down his title from father to son as it should be.”
“Status and titles no longer matter to me.” The words were hard to say and didn’t ring completely true in her heart, but she had to say them for her family’s sake. She didn’t want them to feel sorry for her or worry about something they lacked the ability to change. And for her sake, and even Apollo’s. “Even if they did, and even if you can’t see past them, it’s not as if either of us can do anything about it. We’re powerless against the king’s wishes. My fate in the French army camp could’ve been much worse. Or I could have died as others did in the ravine. Living in my own, lovely home will more than suffice.”
Where she’d have some control, at least over her household. And she’d make sure a fire kept burning in every chamber, for she’d never allow herself to be cold again.
“I suppose you’re right. There’s no point mourning what I can’t change. Not that women can ever change much.”
Her mother didn’t often bemoan her role. Was she speaking of her life in general, or of recent events? What had happened to those left behind in the chateau? She couldn’t cope with sad news on her wedding day.
