Chapter 16
A s expected, by the time Darien and Liana were seated in the hall for a meal as resplendent as any, typical of the showmanship Lord Devereux liked to display, they were deep into their roles.
As the evening shadows lengthened on the stone walls of the great hall, Darien and Liana found themselves seated across from each other at a long, polished oak table filled with platters of steaming food. The table was positioned near the hearth, its glow casting a soft light on the intricate carvings that lined the wooden beams above. Guests filled the seats to either side, but the two of them spoke only to each other amid the lively chatter.
“Are you looking forward to a bed this eve?” he asked with enough suggestiveness for the words to be overheard and reported to the lord of the manor, who continued to watch them from his perch on the raised dais. Although Darien had been welcomed to sit beside Devereux, Liana was not, so he had declined the offer. That might have displeased the baron, but at least he did not seem to suspect their ruse.
“Very much so,” she flirted back, amazing him at every turn.
When Liana had quickly chosen his second option, not wishing to reveal her true identity—something he’d been half teasing about but also thoughtful of since he said the words—she’d not looked back. At their first meeting with Devereux, and every moment since, she had become a different woman entirely.
It both amused and confused him. Where had she learned to transform so completely? Though they’d been given a shared bedchamber to prepare for the meal, the baron had asked Darien for a private meeting, giving him little time to speak to Liana privately once they’d entered the gates. As expected, Devereux asked more questions than provided answers about the current conflict. Aside from a bawdy remark or two, which Darien ignored, he said little about Liana, which served Darien’s purposes well.
“And your meal?”
The aroma of roasted meats and spiced wines enveloped them, though Liana seemed to be finished eating.
“Delicious. ’Twas a treat to be served such a fine meal. Lord Devereux is most kind to have welcomed us into his hall.”
Darien was certain he smiled like a fool. Her easy smile. Liana’s charm. He suddenly wished the woman who sat across from him was his in truth. Instead, they were burdened with a shared goal so weighty the future of England pressed upon it. And for themselves, a shared past and expectations for the future that intertwined in a way very different from the facade they presented this eve.
“Most kind, indeed,” he agreed, the host in question raising a hand to Darien at that moment. “Pardon me,” he said to Liana as the others at their table looked on. Though his rank was higher than their host’s, Darien bowed his head slightly in reverence anyway as he approached. As his father had told him, when in another’s hall, you could never offer the host too much courtesy, only the opposite.
“I trust your meal satisfies?”
“Very much, my lord.” Another lesson Darien had learned from his father? Not all of those who made good allies were also good men. Or women.
The smirk on Lord Devereux’s face put him firmly in that category. Three times widowed, the currently unmarried baron looked beyond him to a pretty servant who seemed not to notice her lord’s intentions. “You are dismissed from the hall,” he said with a wink. “I will remain for some time.” Devereux lifted his mug of ale.
Grateful for it, since custom demanded no guests leave the hall before their host, and Darien was most ready to do just that, he bid his host a good eve and nodded Liana toward the entrance of the hall. They were met with a servant who asked if they needed escort to their chamber.
“We do not,” Darien assured her, retracing his steps to the room they’d been given. He and Liana said nothing until they were safely ensconced in the generously appointed room. Her laughter, as soon as he closed and locked the heavily wooded door, was a sound Darien would remember for a lifetime.
“He is quite insufferable,” Darien said, sitting on the edge of a cushioned chair by the hearth.
“And yet has given you, by all accounts, his finest bedchamber. Is it not exquisite?”
Not as exquisite as she, but aye, Darien agreed. “’Tis finely wrought,” he admitted, taking in the plush rugs and canopied bed. An antechamber would be complete, as it had been before dinner, with a water basin and rags to wash with and prepare for bed. “I am sorry we could not secure you your own chamber.”
“I understand,” she said, warming her hands by the fire. “Having met him, I do believe you were right. He is the kind of man who would have asked many questions.”
“Too many.”
Darien indicated the door on the opposite side of the chamber from where Liana stood. “I did decline a serving maid for you, but there will be fresh bedclothes as well as a water basin in there. I know your gowns have been tied on the sides and thought ’twas wise.” He indicated the door to the antechamber.
“I am able to remove my gown myself,” she said, confirming what he already knew. “And was escorted here earlier and made use of it but will do so again. If you will pardon me?”
“Of course,” he said as Liana disappeared. Darien tried not to imagine her on the other side of that door. He failed, of course. By the time she emerged wearing a bed gown, he slunk into the antechamber himself like a coward.
After nearly kissing her, he vowed not to let that happen again. Since then, he’d told her she was beautiful and spent an evening flirting with her. Though self-control was never something Darien had struggled with, he had finally met the person who pushed those limits.
Delaying in his own duties, he was surprised to find her standing in front of the hearth when he emerged.
“I thought you would be abed already? It was a long day of riding.”
“Days,” she clarified.
Liana wore a soft woolen robe, belted loosely at the waist, the fabric brushing the floor as she shifted. The robe’s deep, earthy tones were simple yet elegant. Beneath it, he caught a glimpse of her linen chemise. Liana’s hair fell freely past her shoulders, her gaze steady as she turned fully toward him, the warmth of the hearth casting a soft light on her face.
With every step toward her, Darien told himself to stop. Not to get any closer.
“Are you not tired?”
“You almost kissed me.”
He’d not been expecting that. Yet perhaps he should have. Liana might not have traveled beyond Crimson Hollow. She might not have been with a man. But this was no simple woman. In fact, Liana was anything but. She was the most complex, intriguing... “I did,” he admitted, realizing she waited for a response.
“Why?”
He took another step. “Because I wanted to. Want to still. Very much.”
“Why did you not?”
“That answer is less easily wrought,” Darien said, close enough now that if he were to reach out, he could touch her. Pull her toward him.
In response, Liana raised her chin. She’d asked a question and expected an answer.
“I would not dishonor you, Liana.”
“I understand,” she said, turning back to the fire.
Nay, she did not. “Our paths?—”
“Are not meant to intertwine in that way,” she finished.
He hated the truth of her words. “Would you have let me?” he asked, tempting fate but too curious to back down.
Liana sighed, her shoulders lifting and falling as her eyes closed. He may have missed her nod had Darien not been watching her carefully. Liana would have let him kiss her, but clearly did not relish the fact.
He understood. Darien’s thoughts warred with each other. No part of him should have moved, and yet he stepped forward. His hands should not have reached for her, but when they did, Darien invested fully in the movement. He pulled her to him so quickly that one moment they stood apart, and the next, she was pressed against his chest, his hands cupping both of her cheeks.
Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, Darien waiting for her to refuse him. Instead, her lips parted. It was his undoing.
Pulling her toward him, Darien touched his lips to hers. They were as soft and inviting as he’d imagined they would be. The gentle touch did little to cool the flames of desire between them. He was about to use his tongue to guide her mouth open, but she did so of her own accord. So she had been properly kissed before?
That only urged him to be certain that, whichever man—or men—had held Liana in his arms, this kiss would erase all memory of it. As her lips parted, Darien’s tongue took full advantage. When she touched hers to him, Darien reminded himself to be gentle. Instead, he found himself holding her to him. Slanting his mouth for better access. Touching his tongue to hers. When his hand moved from her cheeks to the back of Liana’s neck, Darien pulled her even closer.
It was no ordinary kiss.
The rightness of it was incomparable. He didn’t want to take a breath. Didn’t want the kiss to end. Problem was, Darien wanted more too. The thought of slipping off her robe and running his hands down her body, his fingers brushing over the swell of her breasts...
Of being inside her.
That need did have him pulling away, despite every fiber of his being wishing to stay. To kiss her endlessly. To make Liana his.
Those are dangerous thoughts, Darien.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted, backing up another step.
“I shouldn’t have wanted it.”
Her lips were swollen from his kiss. No woman had ever appeared as beautiful to him as Liana did in that moment.
Darien would never defile her. Neither could he imagine not kissing her again. His gaze dropped to her chest. The robe was too tightly pulled for him to see the mark between Liana’s breasts. He’d stared at it so often...
Closing the gap between them, he reached out. Used his thumb to gently push open her garment to reveal the mark he sought.
“These are the interwoven runes?” he asked, running his fingers through the design.
She shivered noticeably but otherwise did not move. “Aye. And the hanging star is unique to me.”
“What does that represent?”
“That is the mark of fate,” she whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the hearth. “A symbol of a path that is uncertain but guided by the stars themselves.”
Darien’s fingers paused over the delicate lines of the hanging star, tracing the curves of the crescent moon once more. He marveled at the intricacy of the design, at how it seemed to blend so perfectly with her skin, as though it had always been there.
“And do you know where this path leads?” he asked, the air filled with inevitability.
Liana’s gaze softened, her eyes meeting his with a mix of vulnerability and strength.
“No,” she said quietly. “But I know it is tied to you.”
“Have you always known that?”
Liana slowly shook her head. Darien could not tear his hand from her skin, the mark both delicate and symbolic of strength in a way that was difficult to comprehend.
“No,” she said. Suddenly, Darien realized she was not looking at him but over his shoulder. He saw nothing there. Turning back to her, dropping his hand, Darien was almost afraid to ask. She had the same look on her face as when she was reading the runes.
“When?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“As you touched me.” She nodded again to the empty space behind him. “Signs are always there, if you know where to look and how to read them.”
“I see...nothing but a...” Darien fixed his gaze on the tapestry. It depicted a garden filled with towering trees and blooming flowers. “Tell me where to look.”
“Among the foliage, do you see the entwined serpents?”
He did. Their emerald scales blended seamlessly with the leaves, forming a figure eight. Darien would not have spotted them without Liana pointing them out.
When he turned back to her, Liana’s eyes were round with wonder. They fixed back on him. Her shoulders rose and fell, the mark between her breasts like a beacon calling to him. He wanted to touch it again. Kiss it. Run his tongue along the lines and not stop as he worshipped every bit of Liana’s body.
Swallowing, he pushed away the thought and met her gaze once again.
“Tell me.”
“The way they twist together,” she said, her voice steady. “They symbolize infinity, a bond that transcends time. Like us, they embody transformation, the duality of their forms reflecting two strengths complementing each other. They are a sign that our connection is not only destined but also protective, as if the universe itself is affirming that we’re meant to face whatever comes next together.”
“We know our fates are intertwined. But this...” He waved his hand between them. “This is something more.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “It is.”
He wanted to ask but couldn’t. Unlike his father, Darien had always wished to be the master of his own fate. To consult the Fletcher women, but not have their visions be his sole influence. Never had he imagined this kind of connection. One that had him nearly taking her to his bed.
Something Darien was no longer certain he wished to avoid.
Tonight was not the time. They had a long day ahead. A king to overthrow. A country to save. But most of all, he was afraid of her answer. Afraid he was following more closely in his father’s footsteps, his reliance on the seer, than Darien could ever imagine.
Despite it, he felt compelled to warn her...
“I cannot promise, if we sleep in the same bed, that will be the last kiss we will share this eve.”
The heaviness of their exchange was, thankfully, replaced by something else. Playful Liana, the one from supper, had returned.
“I will hold you to your non-promise,” she said, skirting him and striding toward the canopied bed with purpose.
Darien followed, knowing with each step, this night, everything had changed.