Chapter 13 #2
Damien watched Alissende sipping—nay, gulping—her third cup of spiced wine in the quarter hour they had been within the sturdy confines of Odiham’s curtain wall.
Her gaze darted nervously around the groups of people who stood at a respectful distance from them, while still managing to surreptitiously stare to their hearts’ content.
Many of these nobles looked familiar to Damien from his time at court those years ago, but none apparently wished to be the first to make an approach.
Nay, it was too risky, from a social standpoint.
He was a pariah of sorts, not only a publicly disgraced former champion but also a recent member of the suspect Brotherhood of Templars, fresh from interrogation by the Inquisition.
Add to that the perception that Alissende had seemingly thumbed her nose at the king himself by taking a lowborn husband without royal permission, and it was little surprise that many of these lords and ladies wished to avoid them.
However, as little as that circumstance bothered Damien, he could not deny that it was affecting Alissende adversely. Her nerves were on edge, by all appearances, winding tighter and tighter, regardless of the wine she consumed. It was up to him to do something to try to ease her tension.
“Come with me, lady.”
He took her hand gently but firmly, and she was forced to set down her cup as he tugged her away from the table. Locking her hand and wrist in the crook of his arm, he began to walk toward the castle keep, giving her no choice but to follow him.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, still casting nervous looks about her as they strode on.
“Inside.”
“But—why?”
Fortunately for him, the drink she had consumed was making her less intractable than usual in the face of his insistence; her hand gripped his arm as they strode on, but she stumbled once, and he felt compelled to slow their pace as he ducked down several narrow passageways in search of the perfect spot.
They passed a few servants and at least one noble lady along the way, but they kept moving onward…
And then he found it. Ah, yes…
Easing to a stop, Damien paused almost at the end of a wider stone corridor that had led away from the hubbub of the main courtyard.
It was cooler here, and it overlooked a smaller and thankfully empty court, the center of which boasted a nicely carved stone cross, surrounded by a rectangular garden of herbs.
One arched and stone-latticed window-hole was cut into the wall, so that passersby within the castle could look out, if they chose, and see the peaceful sight of the little garden.
That window in turn provided the only light for the dim passageway, and Damien pulled Alissende to a stop at the edge of it, turning to face her as he did.
“Here, now,” he murmured, taking in a deep breath and noting with pleasure the faintly spicy scent of the air here. “I want you to take a few moments and do nothing. Try to remove all else from your thoughts but the quiet of this place.”
“What?”
Alissende’s face was slightly flushed, from the wine as much as from the afternoon’s heat, he warranted, and she was gazing at him right now as if he’d grown a second head.
“Do as I ask, lady, before you fret yourself into a faint.” He smiled. “And in the process, remind yourself that it is the opening ceremony of a tournament we attend this day, not an execution.”
“I am well aware of that.” Her flare of indignation deepened those unusual eyes of hers almost to sapphire, and she dug her fisted hands into her hips.
“I cannot believe you pulled me away from the main courtyard for—for—” Stuttering now, she gestured out the stone window in the direction of the herb patch, managing to finish with the very eloquent, “—for this!”
Damien resisted the urge to laugh, however, deeming it likely dangerous to tease her in her current state.
Instead, he reached out his right hand and cupped her chin, an action that made her fall silent immediately.
Before she had time to formulate another question in regards to it, he murmured, “What—do you not find it beautiful, lady?
She appeared nonplussed. “Well…”
Unable to look again at the garden because of his grip upon her chin, she simply gave a short nod, her wide-open gaze locked with his.
“I suppose it is.” That maddening and yet somehow lovely flare of irritation lit in her eyes again, and she countered, “And what of you, sir? Do you find it pleasing?”
Damien let another slow smile lift just the corners of his mouth, and the fact that he was staring at her alone when he spoke made quite clear the fact that it was not the garden he referred to at all. “Aye, lady, what I see is undeniably lovely.”
He felt, rather than heard, her hastily drawn-in breath in response to that, and it gave him unaccountable pleasure to know that he had succeeded, at least for this moment, in getting her thoughts off the endless intrigues and forthcoming tensions of their court appearance.
“That is not the reason I brought you here, however.”
“It’s not?” She sounded far less certain of herself this time, and again Damien resisted the urge to grin at her.
“Nay. Having been to Odiham only once before, I confess to not even knowing this garden existed. Last I was here, this courtyard held little more than two benches and some weeds.”
“Why did we come here, then?” she asked, looking even more adorable for the hint of confusion that appeared in the slight crinkling of her nose.
“For this…”
As he spoke, he tipped his head forward for the kiss he had been longing to give her all day, his lips nibbling, teasing hers, brushing with gentle tenderness across her mouth before coming back for a deeper taste.
Alissende made a sound that shifted to a soft sigh. In the instant after his mouth touched hers, she tensed slightly, but then she seemed to melt into his arms, her hands slipping up his shoulders as she stretched into his embrace.
She returned his kiss with a vigor that surprised even him.
He wondered if it was the effect of the wine that made her amorous so quickly.
It was certainly possible. Through the warm waves of sensation lapping at him as they kissed, he made a mental note that wherever they were living in the future, be it Glenheim or another of her dower estates, he would be sure to keep the place well stocked with a hearty vintage.
After a long, delicious moment the kiss ended, and Alissende teetered back a little, swaying, so that he reached out and grabbed at her waist, steadying her.
“Careful.” Unable to keep from smiling fully now, he continued, jesting, “I’m flattered, however. I’d always hoped my kisses would be powerful enough to make a woman swoon.”
“I am not swooning.” Alissende sounded peevish that he had managed to take her by surprise. “I am simply a bit unsteady.” She frowned. “Perhaps I indulged too heartily in the spiced wine.”
“What a pity that is the cause and not my wondrous skill.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I shall have to keep working on it, then.”
That made her laugh. “You do very well already, if you must know. But you’ll be getting no more kisses until I am in full possession of my senses.”
“When will that be?” he asked, raising his brows hopefully.
“You are incorrigible,” she retorted, but the scolding lost its effect for the dreamy look in her eyes.
“I am simply eager to learn when I might know the pleasure of your lips again.”
“I cannot tell you, though I can give you assurance about something else.”
“Pray, do not keep me in suspense,” he murmured, never expecting her somewhat pert response, delivered with a soft smile of her own.
“I am indeed more relaxed now, if that was your intent.”
A darkly familiar male voice echoed from behind him, “How touching…I am almost sorry to interrupt such a tender little moment.”
Turning, and in the same, smooth movement tucking Alissende behind him for safety, Damien faced Hugh.
He met his rival’s gaze, his own cold and steely, his immediate assessment telling him that though Hugh was in the frame of mind to stir trouble, he was not planning any kind of aggressive behavior at the moment.
“Lord Harwick,” Damien intoned, giving him just enough of a nod, and shifting so that Alissende could slip into place at his side if she wished. She did, looping her arm around his waist in a way that, even in the tension of the moment, felt strangely gratifying.
“Ashby,” Hugh echoed back with a similar tip of his chin.
His green-gray eyes looked impassive and assessing as his gaze took in Alissende.
“My darling cousin,” he murmured. “You look fetching in that rosy hue. Ashby had best keep a close eye on you, lest you be deemed a better dessert than those set upon the king’s tables. I could gobble you up myself.”
He finished his crude comment with a smile that looked more lecherous than pleasant.
Damien felt Alissende’s faint shiver, and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, staring at Hugh coldly.
“Alissende will be well protected by my side, as always.” He paused with deliberate insolence before adding, “My lord.”
“We shall see.”
Hugh’s murmured response, along with the fact that he did not react to Damien’s jab, sent an arrow of warning through Damien, but he had little time to consider it further, for Hugh’s demeanor suddenly brightened, and he lifted both hands, rocking back on his heels as he said with false joviality, “But why are we dawdling in this dank hallway, when the festivities are elsewhere? I came seeking you for just this reason—to bid you come, for the introductions are getting underway.” A sly look slid into his eyes, then, though there was no outward change in his expression.
“I know you would not wish to miss that, after all your years away, Sir Damien. And many of those in attendance are more than eager to have a glimpse of you as well, you can be certain.”
Damien did not respond, well aware of the insinuation Hugh was casting with his carefully selected words. The bastard had been busy spreading gossip in preparation for Damien’s arrival, likely reviving some of the old stories and rumors as well.
Hugh made a show of seeming surprised at Damien’s silence. “What—do you not relish the chance to evaluate those you will be facing on the field tomorrow?”
Damien allowed his expression to alter, then, favoring Hugh with a chilling, wolfish grin that set Alissende to trembling again at his side when she caught sight of it.
“It is of little matter to me. There is only one combatant who interests me, though for reasons that have naught to do with our imminent meeting on the lists.” He lifted his brow in another gesture of pure and intentional disrespect.
“I evaluated him prior to this day and find myself…unconcerned.”
It was apparent that Hugh had never mastered the ability to keep his emotions suppressed, or even hidden, when facing an adversary.
A sense of affront fairly billowed from him, and his face contorted with anger, but he managed to bring himself under control enough to clip off another tightly muttered, “We shall see, Ashby.”
“Aye, we shall,” Damien answered, not the least bit perturbed. He could tell that he’d startled his rival with the pleasantry of his tone, and he gestured down the corridor, adding, “However, in the meantime…shall we make our way to the great hall?”
Hugh jerked into motion, striding ahead without another word, and Damien followed behind, releasing Alissende’s shoulder to grip her hand warmly in his, and glancing down at her to give her a look of encouragement.
Her eyes were wide, and she seemed pale and more than a little tense again.
Damien cursed Hugh for having undone all the good they’d gained in getting away from the crowds to pause near the herb garden for a while.
But in the end, he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Alissende would have become nervous again anyway upon their necessary return to the festivities getting underway. Hugh had only cut short their brief interlude by a bit.
Damien kept his gaze fixed on Hugh’s powerful back as he followed him, knowing that for all his insults to the contrary, Hugh de Valles, Lord Harwick would likely prove a formidable opponent on the field.
Whether or not he would conduct their combat fairly remained to be seen; regardless, Damien intended to keep up his guard where the man was concerned.
The king would be another matter altogether.
Aye, it promised to be an unpleasant evening any way Damien looked at it, and as they neared the great hall, he thought longingly of that moment’s interlude he and Alissende had shared near the little garden. He half-wished they could have remained there and avoided all that was to come.
But that was sentimental foolishness, he knew. Time had run out for such fancies. He needed to cloak himself once more with the cold, hard aura of the battle-hardened warrior he had been if he hoped to traverse these next few days—these next few hours—successfully.
The time was now, he thought, clenching his jaw and slipping Alissende’s hand into the crook of his arm again as they paused before the great doors at the portal of the reception chamber.
He watched them swing open at Hugh’s command; the sounds of the revelers billowed out, along with a wave of jumbled scents from the milieu of bodies, perfumes, and food and drink inside.
Aye, the time was now indeed.
And he was ready for it.