by Speer, Flora
“As far as I’ve been able to learn,” Gina said later that night, “Charles is not aware of Father Guntram’s visit to Regensburg. The priest wasn’t in the great hall this evening, and no one has mentioned him, so I am assuming that no one but Fastrada, and possibly a servant or two, knows he has been here. I’m guessing that Father Guntram will arrive with Pepin as if he hasn’t seen Regensburg since the last time he came to court.”
“Very likely,” Dominick said, sounding distracted, as if something else was on his mind.
They were in his bedchamber. Gina had gone there to speak with him when he did not come to her room after they returned from the palace. She judged it was a couple of hours before midnight, and though the rest of Dominick’s household had retired, she wasn’t the least bit sleepy.
“What’s your opinion of the offer Lady Adalhaid made to me?” Gina asked.
“Interesting,” Dominick said as though he wasn’t thinking about Lady Adalhaid. “Not entirely unexpected.”
After the enforced celibacy of the trip from Feldbruck, followed by Dominick’s advances toward her on the previous night and his teasing promise of that afternoon, Gina had assumed that he was planning at least a few passionate hours once they were back in his house. Now that they were alone together, she couldn’t understand his preoccupation.
“What’s wrong? Why are you shutting me out?” As so often happened, the words that came out of her mouth in well-spoken Frankish were somewhat different from what she intended to say. Still, the message was clear. “Have you learned something that you think is important? Talk to me, Dominick. Tell me what’s going on.”
“What is going on,” he said, “is my amazement when I realize how long it has been since I’ve held you close.”
“Well, you did try last night. That was my fault, not yours,” she said ruefully. “I have promised to stay awake tonight, and I will.”
“Gina.” His lips touched hers lightly. “Beautiful Gina. You drive me mad with longing.”
“You don’t act as if I do,” she said.
“No? Shall I prove to you how much I want you, how I have ached to hold you close, night after uncomfortable night?” Hands still on her shoulders, he drew her nearer, wrapping his arms around her. “There are hours when you are all I can think of, moments when I believe I will die if I cannot bury myself deep inside you until I hear you cry out in delight.”
“Oh, Dominick, don’t you know I want you, too?” In newfound hope and trust she raised her face to him. His mouth came down on hers boldly, with no tentative, preliminary testing. Gina melted into him, freely giving what he demanded of her. His arms were tight around her, offering no chance of escape from his mounting passion. But then, escape from Dominick was the last thing on her mind. She welcomed him, kissing him back, matching passion for passion.
He tugged at the sash of her woolen robe and pushed it off her shoulders so it fell into an untidy, and unheeded, pile around her ankles.
Gina caressed and stroked, then tore at his clothing, eager to feel the hard length of him in her hands. She rejoiced in his groan of pleasure when she was finally able to touch his naked heat.
They stood toe to toe for a long moment, simply holding each other, immobilized by the sensation of skin against skin. That didn’t last very long, though. Wild desire, repressed for too many nights, seized hold of them. Dominick put his palms on Gina’s buttocks, lifting her up and closer still. His mouth ground against hers. She folded her arms around his neck, holding on tight, afraid he’d let her go again. She couldn’t bear to be separated from him for even an instant; she’d die without his body straining against hers.
They fell onto the bed together, Dominick on top. His hands were all over her, beginning with her hair, which was growing longer and curling around her face. He wove his hands into the curls, tugging gently. He moved on to caress her shoulders and breasts, pausing to tease her nipples till she cried out at the sensations he was causing deep inside her. Next he encircled her ankles with his big hands, then stroked her calves and thighs in a purposefully tantalizing dance of clever fingertips, until he reached the very core of her that was already, so quickly, hot and moist and ready to receive him.
She felt his mouth on her and screamed, so flooded was she with heat and a building tension that she knew he was going to release – but not until he was finished tormenting her by kissing and suckling her breasts, by turning her over so he could place a hot, moist row of kisses all along her spine while his fingers were finding and teasing the sensitive places between her thighs. She moaned and wept and pleaded with him, and he chuckled and promised more to come.
“That’s pleasant enough,” he said when he held her face to face again.
“Pleasant?” she gasped, and suddenly found that she could not speak another word, for he was pushing his hardness against her and she was desperate to hold all of his great length inside, where he belonged.
“I like to see the look of wonder on your lovely face when I possess you,” he whispered. “Gina, my dear heart.”
The pressure and the stretching sensation intensified, and she murmured his name, lifting her hips to him, accepting his size with ease, for he had prepared her so well that she was already beginning to dissolve into him.
He withdrew a little, then thrust hard several times, and Gina’s mind exploded into rainbow-hued fragments of light and color, into a pleasure so fulfilling that all she knew was Dominick filling her, and all she heard was his triumphant cry of release.
In the sweet, languorous aftermath, Gina lay thinking about the haunting urgency of Dominick s lovemaking. It was almost as if he feared they’d never come together again. Her twentieth-century experiences with men who promised one thing but did another came to mind to provide a possible explanation she did not want to consider in connection with Dominick. But consider it she must.
Dominick was lying to her. Or, more accurately, he was concealing something from her.
She did not doubt the reality of his passion for her. That had been honest and intense. But Dominick had used his need for her and had played upon her longing for him to direct her attention away from the intrigues they were supposedly investigating – the intrigues they had been discussing when the lovemaking began.
It did not require a great leap for Gina to reach the conclusion that Dominick had learned something of vital importance, something to do with the plot against Charles. He’d told her several times that he must have irrefutable evidence against the nobles involved before he could go to the king with what he knew. Gina thought Charles should have been alerted as soon as they reached Regensburg, so he could be on guard against attack, but she wasn’t going to second-guess Dominick. He knew more about the workings of Frankish society, and more about the character of the king, than she did. If Dominick said Charles would demand proof, then he was probably right.
But they were supposed to be working together to find that all-important evidence. He owed her an explanation. She was hurt that he hadn’t offered one, especially after she had told him everything she had been able to learn during her day at the palace.
He wasn’t going to do any explaining while he lay sleeping in her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, and Dominick sighed. He briefly tightened his hold on her, then relaxed again. She’d have to wait until morning to confront him with her conclusions. In the meantime, she ought to get some rest.
She was just beginning to drift off when Dominick stirred. Slowly, cautiously, he slid out of her embrace and lifted himself off the bed.
So stealthy were his movements that Gina came instantly awake, though she pretended to be asleep. The only light in the chamber was the star glow from the night sky beyond the un-shuttered window, so as long as she kept her eyes closed, she didn’t think Dominick could tell that she was aware of what he was doing.
She heard him pull on his tunic and trousers and then his boots. She knew when he picked up his sword belt and the cloak he’d tossed down on hi
s clothing chest upon returning from the palace hours earlier. She had thought the act odd, for Dominick was a neat man and usually put his belongings away after he used them. Now she knew he had wanted the cloak easily available because he was planning to sneak out.
He paused to look down at her, and Gina lay perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe. When his lips touched her forehead in a brief kiss, she longed to grab him and demand to know what he was doing and where he was going. But she knew he wouldn’t tell her. He would offer an excuse, perhaps even make love to her again to shut her up. Then he’d wait until she really was asleep, and he’d sneak out and do whatever it was he was planning.
Without her. After lying to her.
She wasn’t going to let him get away with it. She was going to follow him and find out what he was up to.
She got out of bed and went to the window just in time to see his tall figure walk away from the house. Dominick wasn’t heading directly for the palace. He had chosen a street that would take him past the palace and past at least a dozen houses of noblemen. He could be planning to stop at any of those houses.
Gina sped to her own room, stopping there just long enough to throw a woolen gown over her head. She had barely thrust her arms through the sleeves when she was pulling on and tying her shoes and snatching up her dark cloak.
She knew better than to leave Dominick’s house by the front door. If she tried, she’d have to deal with the guard posted there, who was sure to ask questions about Dominick’s guest going out alone so late at night. She’d lose too much time, and Dominick would be gone before she could get away from the house, assuming the guard was even willing to let her leave.
She hurried toward the back door, lifting a key from its hook as she passed through the kitchen. Then she was racing out to the walled area behind the house, where the bathhouse was, and the gardener’s tool shed, and the door to the stable, which had its main entrance onto an alley at the far end of the property. Along one side of the backyard lay a kitchen garden, and there was a door in the wall, used by the gardener to bring supplies in and carry refuse out.
Gina halted only once, to be sure neither Benet nor the other groom who slept in the stable, nor any of the men-at-arms, were awake. Hearing no sound of anyone coming to see who was in the garden, she fitted the key into the door and pulled it open. There was no squeaking of hinges; Dominick’s house was beautifully maintained. Thinking she might need to return in a hurry, Gina left the key in the door, pulling it almost shut behind her.
She stood in the dark, quiet road until her vision, already adjusted to the night, detected a movement in the direction Dominick had taken. She set out after him, keeping to the darkest shadows, being as quiet as she possibly could and praying she wouldn’t run into any late-night carousers.
Chapter 13
The road Dominick had taken slanted slightly upward, leading away from the river. Only a few people were out so late at night. A couple of drunken men in workers’ clothing lurched across the road ahead of Gina. She halted, worried that she’d have to make a detour around them, thus possibly losing Dominick, who was moving rapidly through the dark. But Charles kept the town in good order. A watchman accosted the workers and bundled them off with stern admonitions about drinking too heavily. Gina waited only a moment or two before hurrying onward to where the road opened into a large open square in front of the church of St. Peter.
She saw Dominick stop as if he was listening, and she tried to shrink into invisibility. When he ducked around the side of the church, Gina followed him.
The church was built in the shape of a cross, with the main entrance at the foot of the cross. The transepts, or crossbars, were about three-quarters of the way down the long nave, and there was a door at the end of each. These were smaller and not as splendidly decorated as the bronze double doors at the main entrance. In the architectural style Gina was coming to know well, the walls were of thick stone, and the supporting arches and the small windows were rounded at their tops.
The solid bulk of the church loomed upward against the night sky. No lights showed at the windows. All was silent and serene, as a holy edifice ought to be.
Gina saw Dominick vanish through the door in the south transept. When she reached the door she found that he had left it slightly ajar, as she had done with the garden door back at his house. Perhaps he, too, wanted a quick route of return. The door was heavy wood with a big iron ring for a handle, and Gina was grateful not to have to pull it open and risk making noise. She was able to squeeze through the opening and into the dense darkness of the interior.
At first she couldn’t see anything. She did hear muted scuffling sounds, as if several people were there and were attempting rather unsuccessfully to be quiet. As she stood still, trying to decide what to do next, a light flared ahead of her to her right, in the chancel. Gina started forward, staying close to the wall and being as quiet as possible.
The light was coming from a single taper on the altar. The church was so huge that one candle flame did nothing to dispel the nighttime shadows, not even with its glow reflecting off the golden cross on the altar and a series of golden candelabra, each as tall as a man, that stood at the entrance to the chancel, bearing unlit candles. Still, there was light enough for Gina to make out a group of cloaked and hooded men, perhaps a dozen of them, perhaps more, huddled together beside the altar. She could not see any of them well enough to identify them.
On silent feet she moved toward the rounded chancel, and as she drew nearer she was able to hear what the men were discussing in hushed tones.
“We’ll make it appear to be a brawl,” said one man, “and stab him as if by accident. If we stick to our story that we were all drunk, no one person can be blamed for striking the fatal blow.”
“We will all be executed,” protested a second man.
“Not if we are ruling Francia,” declared a third man. “When we hold the power, no one will dare to accuse us.”
“Are we agreed, then?” asked the first man.
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
One after another, all of them assented to the notion of a false brawl.
“Well, then,” said the first speaker, who was apparently in charge of the meeting, “when shall it be?”
“Tomorrow morning. Charles attends early prayers each day, so we can depend on him to be here then. We will strike just outside the church, before he sets a foot upon this hallowed spot.”
“Aye, we’ve waited long enough.”
“I’ve been told that Pepin should reach Regensburg by late tomorrow,” someone remarked.
“Just in time to be crowned,” said another, and several men laughed in an ugly way that made Gina’s skin crawl with apprehension.
“Be sure to make the brawl look real,” one man cautioned. “We don’t want questions raised about it afterward.”
“What questions?” scoffed another. “It will be just a stupid fight among a few drunken men who bitterly regret its accidental outcome. Afterward, we can each make a donation to the Church in repentance. Of course, our story will appear all the more realistic if one or two of us are actually wounded.”
“Aye. I’ll volunteer for a knife scratch on the arm – the left arm, you understand.”
“Gerold, you may punch me in the nose,” said another man. “Do it hard enough to make me bleed but not hard enough to break the bone.”
“It will be a pleasure, my friend.”
The sly remark drew general laughter from some of the other conspirators, as if they did not comprehend the deadly seriousness of what they were doing. Nor, apparently, did they see the hypocrisy of plotting in a church to murder their king, while at the same time voicing religious scruples that led them to do the actual killing outside, away from sacred ground.
By this time Gina was leaning against the stone wall of the transept because she was trembling too much from fear to stand up without support. She hadn’t identified Dominick among the men at t
he altar, who all kept their hoods close around their faces, as if trying to hide themselves. If Dominick was present in the chancel, he was there as a spy, which meant his life was in terrible danger.
She couldn’t recall enough history to know if the conspirators were going to succeed or not. She did know that it was her responsibility to get to the palace as quickly as possible and warn Charles. Fastrada wouldn’t take kindly to Gina bursting into the king’s private quarters in the middle of the night, but if she could locate Alcuin, he would believe her, and he had Charles’s confidence. Charles would listen to him.
If she could reach the transept door and slip outside, she’d run all the way to the palace. She began to back away from the spot where she had been standing. She had taken only three steps when a large hand clamped down on her mouth and a muscular arm wrapped itself around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn’t fight.
“Don’t make a sound,” came Dominick’s hushed whisper in her ear, “or we are both dead.”
He didn’t wait for a response; he lifted her off her feet, with his arm still around her and her back forced hard against his chest, and carried her away into the darkness of the nave. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t release her until they were hidden next to the tall statue of a saint.
Gina was too limp with relief and fear to struggle. She knew Dominick was right. If they were caught, they’d both be killed, and then there would be no one to warn Charles.
The meeting of conspirators was breaking up. Men were quietly walking toward the south transept door. One man was carrying the lone candle, its flame wavering as he moved. In another minute or two they’d all be gone, and she and Dominick would be safe. Gina held her breath, waiting.
“What s this?” exclaimed a muffled voice. “The door is open.”
