Chapter 3 #3
Leveling what she hoped was an unperturbed gaze at him, she said, “As I told you in the solar, I only wished to ready your chamber. There is no cause to think otherwise.”
“I was referring to what I saw when I came in here.” He nodded toward the hearth, his expression an enigmatic combination of jesting and bemusement.
Alissende bit back another retort when she realized what he meant, and how she must have looked from his perspective behind her, bent over as she was with her bottom in the air and with the top half of her hidden from view in the fireplace.
To cover her discomfiture, she glanced at the hearth and coughed slightly, resisting the impulse to rub her nose again.
Good heavens, but if she couldn’t find a way to stop feeling so—
“I cannot say that I found your position…unattractive, however.”
Alissende snapped her gaze forward, realizing too late that Damien had crossed the few steps between them while she’d been looking away.
He stood less than an arm’s length from her now, and her breath caught with a choking sound in her throat.
She forced herself to lift her face to meet his gaze, so that he would not think her intimidated by his nearness.
Sweet Jesu, but he was staring down at her in such solemn silence.
All but for the heat in his eyes. There was no mistaking the intensity she saw there, and it caused her stomach to do a pleasurable little flip.
He was so close that she could sense his warmth, and she could not help but breathe in his scent—a sensual blend of pure male and warm leather, along with the hint of clove and lemongrass from the herbs she knew he favored in his bath.
It played havoc with her senses, sweeping her up again into memories so powerful that her knees might have buckled had she not reached a hand out to the small table beside the hearth to steady herself.
More than anything, she wanted to avoid the humiliation of sputtering incoherently, of letting him know just how much his physical presence affected her. And so she found herself pausing until she felt more confident that she could string words together in a reasonable way.
She had just mastered herself enough to form a suitable retort when he suddenly lifted his right hand to her cheek, freezing her into shocked silence once more.
His long, elegant fingers slid up along her jaw, while his thumb brushed in a gentle stroke just above the corner of her mouth. And still he said nothing.
The delicious sensation of his touch nearly made her gasp, but against all instinct she forced herself to pull away after a moment of that guilt-ridden bliss. At the same time she issued a command that somehow ended up sounding more like a husky plea. “Pray tell, what do you think you’re doing?”
His mouth quirked up in that seductive half smile again, sending a new wave of curling warmth through her. It was followed, however, by mortification, as he lifted the hand that had touched her so gently to reveal the smudge of soot he had removed from her cheek with his thumb.
“Oh…”
Any ash that might have remained on her face was surely obscured by the flaming red that filled it, if the heat she felt rising was any indication of the hue of her skin.
“You should be more careful.” Damien’s voice sounded slightly hoarse, and Alissende knew a flare of satisfaction in thinking that perhaps he wasn’t quite as unaffected as he seemed to be.
“You are not dressed properly for the task of setting a fire, and soot cannot easily be removed once it invades the fine texture of silk.”
“I did not realize that you were so knowledgeable regarding women’s fashion,” she answered flippantly, in a desperate attempt to distance herself from him in some way.
Damien’s reaction was almost imperceptible, but she saw nevertheless that her tiny barb had sunk home. She couldn’t help feeling a bit repentant at having taunted him so, though when he replied, any lingering remorse vanished.
“I learned much of various fabrics, their qualities and worth when I lived and traveled through the Holy Land and later, Cyprus,” he murmured, his expression sharper now.
“But anything I know about the intricacies of a woman’s clothing—the feel of a silk gown when one is unfastening it, for example—I learned directly from you, lady. ”
The comment stung at the same time that it unleashed a powerful swell of something else, something that bound her to him in a way that she knew she would never feel with another man.
But it did not matter. They were here by reason of a cold, practical arrangement, and there was no room for sugary sentiment in the mix.
Alissende cast him a dark look and tried to step around him, intending to leave before she said anything to make this situation worse. But he shifted his body, blocking her passage and causing her to speak with him again, this time in vexation.
“Come, sir, and let me pass.”
“Nay. We must discuss something before you flee again.”
“I am not fleeing—and I can think of naught else that needs to be said. You made yourself quite clear in the solar,” she replied, still smarting from all that had transpired this day.
“Ah, but this is in regards to what you said only a few moments ago, when you told me that you came here to ready ‘my’ chamber.”
“Aye.” Alissende frowned. “And I spoke the truth. Now that I have accomplished that task, I intend to call a serving lad to complete the last minor preparations. You may settle your belongings here and be secure by nightfall.”
He made a sound of exasperation in his throat. “There—you have just done it again.”
“Done what?”
“You keep speaking as if I will occupy this chamber alone. I trust you are aware that such an arrangement will not suit.”
That set off a wild jangling inside her, and she studied him, readying herself for battle. “Of course it will suit. I am accustomed to sleeping in one of the guest chambers, and I intend to continue doing so for the term of our agreement.”
He stood there before her, unmoved; a golden warrior, tall, powerful, and stunningly handsome in his stubbornness.
Another tingle of warning slipped up her spine, along with the fear that she might not find means to resist him if he demanded this of her.
It compelled her to add, “You cannot expect otherwise, Damien, for it is you who insisted upon celibacy within the bounds of this temporary union.”
“I did—and that shall be honored,” he answered roughly, keeping her trapped in the intense blue currents of his gaze. “However, we must occupy the same chamber to uphold the appearance of being husband and wife, regardless of it.”
Alissende felt a sense of terror grip her, and the barely controlled passions that had been roiling in her breast flared to life again.
Oh, God, he was being cruel to insist upon this.
Cruel to demand that she share a chamber with him after all they had been to each other so long ago.
She would not allow it. “Why?” she demanded, almost choking on the word.
Damien exhaled sharply and glanced away for a moment before he swung his gaze back to her. “You have been at court far more recently than I, Alissende. Has it changed that much then, in the years I was away?”
“It is as it has always been,” she answered reluctantly.
“Then you know as well as I that gossip is like life’s blood to them.”
“Perhaps. But I do not see what that has to do with where I choose to sleep of an evening.”
“You cannot overlook that we will be journeying to King Edward’s court before long,” Damien contended, “and so will those of your servants who accompany us. Do you think for a moment that even the hint of any scandal that occurs between us here will not reach the ears of the noble lords and ladies there—including Hugh de Valles or even the king himself?”
She could not refute what he was saying, yet each word rang like a death knell on her heart.
The aching inside her swelled until it was almost unbearable, and she found herself needing to look away from him as he continued his very logically stated argument.
“If I am to properly protect you, lady, none must suspect that there is aught between us but the usual familiarity of a newly married man and his wife.”
Still she could not bring herself to speak in reply or to look at him.
He grabbed her hand then, startling her as he called her gaze back to him, and she saw that his eyes burned with emotion.
“By God, Alissende, if you will lead me into sin with this agreement we have struck, then you must be willing to do what is necessary to see it through! We must occupy the same chamber at night, whether here, at court, or anywhere else we may need to travel. We have no other choice.”
His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke the last part, and Alissende realized, suddenly, that he must dread the idea of this as much as she did—that sharing a chamber with her, of all people, would prove to be a curse for him far more than a long-awaited chance to wound her.
Aye, he wanted none of it.
Yet at the core she knew that Damien was a principled man. He had made a promise to protect her as a husband for six months, and he was bound to keep his word, no matter what it took.
In all honor, she could do no less.
The fight seemed to go out of her with that awareness, leaving her feeling more empty and exhausted than ever.
She gently pulled her hand away, glancing down for a moment before lifting her gaze, trying to remain strong.
“Very well, Damien. I concede your point and will arrange for my belongings to be secured here before nightfall.”
He nodded in a gesture that was as stiff as the strain showing on his face.
“Is that all, then?” she asked, finding it more difficult than ever to maintain her composure in the wake of this intimate conversation with him.
“Aye, Alissende, that is all. For now.”
She felt that little catch in her belly again.
It disconcerted her even more than it had the first time, for now she felt the weight of what she had just agreed to pressing down on her.
After a final, tense pause, she nodded. “I will return in an hour, then, with details of the pledging ceremony we must feign this afternoon.”
Then she stepped past and strode purposefully from the chamber—knowing that if she did not leave at that very moment, she might well do something in front of him for which she would never forgive herself.
For right now she wanted nothing so much as to bury her face in her hands and weep.
Damien watched the door click softly shut behind her before he allowed himself to exhale his first full breath since coming in here.
If there had been aught left in the hollow, dark place where his faith in God used to reside, he would have fallen to his knees, praying for the strength to see this through.
As it stood, there was nothing there to aid him but emptiness and a bone-deep hurt in his awareness of God’s absence from him.
He was conscious of it more than ever, realizing that, as with the torments dealt him by the Inquisition, he would be alone in facing this ordeal.
And what an ordeal it was. His arrangement with Alissende was a trial the likes of which he had never known.
A tender trap ensnaring him on all sides.
He was bound by his word to protect her, which meant that his command for a shared chamber must be upheld.
Yet he was also bound by his own tortured yearnings—taunted by desires that no longer had a place in his life, and which warned him to stay as far away from her as was physically possible.
They are naught but the carnal wants of a man who has been too long without the comforts of a woman.
That phrase repeated itself over and over in his mind.
He simply had to master his needs, as he had done during the years he served in celibacy with the Brotherhood of Templars, and all would be well.
But sweet heaven, he would be sharing a chamber—sharing a bed—with Alissende…with the very woman who was his own personal temptation. He could not risk that she would compare the scarred, tortured shell of a man that he was today with the accomplished lover and noble knight he had once been.
He could not risk creating a babe with her.
And as sure as hell burned for the wicked, he would not risk his heart.
Nay, never again with anyone—but most especially not with her, who had held his love in her palms and then so blithely crushed it to nothingness five years ago.
He let loose a muted groan as he took the few steps to sink into the ornate chair in the corner of the chamber.
He tried to cool the raging in his brain.
But even with all the warnings abounding in his mind, his thoughts were already awhirl with tormenting images and relentless fantasies.
He managed to shake his head ruefully, a rusty-sounding laugh escaping the tightness of his throat.
Only time would tell how foolish he had been to insist upon sharing this chamber with Alissende, and how long he would find means to resist touching her…how long he could go on playing at lovers with her, without making her his own in truth again.
He decided that he had to be the most ill-advised, daft, and reckless man in all of Christendom.
What in the devil’s name have I gotten myself into? The mocking voice kept up the challenge until Damien shook his head once more, closing his eyes and tipping his face into his hands.
For the sad truth was that he had no blessed idea.
No idea at all.