Richmond
smiled faintly. "As would I. Mayhap he’s suffered enough humiliation from
me and will opt to leave before the feast tonight. One can always hope."
She
turned her gaze to him, a smile on her lips. Bright blue eyes blazed upon her
and she was suddenly aware that they were alone, far removed from the rest of
the household and festivities.
How
many times had they sat alone, talking about items both trivial and important?
How many times had they been together, just the two of them, laughing or
playing or simply sitting in silence? Certainly, more times that she could
count. But this time, it was different.
Richmond’s
smile faded as she lowered her gaze, staring at her hands. She seemed ill at
ease, uncertain somehow. Since his arrival yesterday, their relationship hadn't
been the same and he was deeply perplexed by the situation. He knew that his
own confusion and guilt had cast a fog between them, causing her discomfort. Of
course she'd been skittish in his presence; he'd given her good reason to be.
It was all his fault.
But
one thing was clear; he'd always been able to speak to Arissa. Communication
between them was an important factor to their relationship and he had always
gone to great lengths to preserve their openness. Now, in the heat of his
bewilderment, was not the time to sever the lines of contact.
"Is
Tad the only item bothering you?" he asked softly. "You have seemed
very disturbed since I returned yesterday. Is there something I can do?"
She
continued to stare at her hands.
Is there something I can do?
She had no
idea why tears began to sting her eyes. Mayhap it was her own sense of
helplessness, the power of a love that refused to die, of a love that would
never be nurtured. It was a love that would be forced into obscurity when she
was committed to Whitby. If only he could do something; if only he could return
that love.
A
single hot tear dripped onto her hand. Richmond saw it; immediately, he was out
of the chair and kneeling before her.
"Riss,
what's the matter? Won't you tell me?"
His
gentle voice struck deep. The single tear turned into a flood and she
dissolved, falling forward against him.
"I....
you cannot help," she whispered, her voice constricted with sobs. "No
one can help."
He
clutched her fiercely; somehow, she managed to fall out of the chair and ended
up cradled in his lap as he sat on the floor. Richmond held her as if to never
let her go.
"I
can help, I promise," he murmured into her hair. "Tell me and I shall
do everything in my power to ease your ache."
Ease
your ache.
Sweet
St. Jude, if it were only possible! But it was not. And she would rather die
than tell him the true reasons behind her tears.
"Tell
me," he urged tenderly, squeezing her. "What is so terrible?"
Arissa
knew from experience that he would not let the subject rest until he had
received a satisfactory response. Aware that it would be futile to resist or
refuse to answer him, she thought carefully on her reply. Certainly, it was not
a lie. But it was only a small measure of the truth.
"I...."
she coughed, wiping at her eyes. "I do not want to go to the
convent."
He
did not say anything for a moment. Arissa swore his embrace tightened.
"You have been pledged to the abbey since you were an infant."
"I
know," she sniffled. "I was never given any say in the matter. I do
not want to be shut off from the world for the rest of my life, Richmond. I do
not want to go."
He
shifted her in his lap, sliding over a few inches to the hard stone wall.
Reclining against it, he cradled her to his chest.
"Why
not?"
She
blinked thoughtfully at his question, her tears fading somewhat. She couldn't
very well tell him the truth.
"Because
I do not think I am suited for life at the cloister. I like parties, and pretty
things, and good food and entertainment. I have only been devout to the
religion because mother and father have forced me to be rigid in my
practice," she sat up, wiping her cheeks and looking him in the eye.
"I do not want to wear gray wool and wimples for the rest of my life. I
want to be married, to know the security of a home and family. Richmond, I want
to live."
He
gazed at her a moment, the woman he loved. Absently, a gloved hand came up to
touch her hair. "Your entire life is before you and you want to sample all
it has to offer."
"Exactly,"
she said firmly, tears forgotten. "I am eighteen years today, old enough
to go to court, or be married, or anything else that young women do. Why should
I be deprived of my life simply because my parents saw fit to make me a
sacrificial lamb by devoting my life to God? I never had a choice and it was
unfair of them not to consider my feelings."
He
smiled vaguely, toying with a tendril of raven-hued hair. "'Tis not usual
that one is given a choice in one's destiny. Furthermore, 'tis not usual to
consider the feelings of a newborn child when deciding his, or her,
future."
She
pursed her lips wryly. "You are not helping me. I do not want to obey my
father's wishes and you make jokes."
His
grip on her hair tightened as she tried to move away from him. "I am not
jesting, simply stating a fact."
She
met his gaze, trying to ignore the rising heat between them by focusing on her
concerns. "Will you talk to my father, Richmond? Tell him that I do not
wish to join the church."
He
sighed, knowing that her betrothal to the church was nearly as binding as a
marriage. Furthermore, Henry himself had made it. The only person who would
have a remote chance of dissolving it would be, clearly, Henry. And the chances
of that happening were close to impossible.
"Riss,
it's not that simple," he said after a moment. "You have known since
you were old enough to understand that your destiny was to become a nun. This
is the first time I have heard you speak negatively on the subject."
She
shrugged, looking away from him. `Tis only because I have realized that I want
a voice in my destiny. Why must my father decide it for me? I have never truly
been excited about joining the cloister, merely resigned to the fact.
Resignation has kept me silent for eighteen years."
He
cocked an eyebrow. "But no longer, I see."
She
shook her head. "No longer. I do not want to go. If father won't consider
dissolving the contract, then I shall.... I shall run away."
"Do
not talk like that. You couldn't run far enough away from me that I could not
find you."
She
slanted him a long glance. "You would follow me anywhere?"
He
gave her a half-smile. "I am my lady's shadow."
She
stared at him a moment, observing his well-shaped, masculine features. The grin
on her lips matched his own. "What are you going to do when I am forced to
enter the convent? Are you planning on lurking about the halls, shadowing me as
I prepare for vespers?"
He
pretended to think on the matter. "I look rather good in a nun's habit. Do
you think they would suspect?"
She
shook her head immediately. "Never. Who would suspect anything peculiar
about a six foot nun?"
"I
am well over six feet."
Her
smiled broadened. "I know. You have told me. Six feet and five inches. You
are well over a foot taller than I am."
"Sixteen
inches, to be exact. But everyone is taller than you."
"And
everyone is younger than you."
He
cocked an eyebrow. "You are an impudent, disagreeable wench. Beware, or
next time I will refuse to save you from Tad de Rydal."
She
sighed, her light mood fading as she returned to picking her nails. "I
would marry him if it meant dissolving my contract with the church. I would
rather suffer a lifetime of arrogance than a lifetime of unhappiness."
He
grasped her fumbling hands, so tightly that she nearly winced. "You shall
not marry Tad de Rydal. Is that clear?"
Her
puzzled gaze met his darkened blue eyes. "I.... I meant it figuratively,
Richmond. As you said, I have no choice in the matter. I must join the cloister
whether I want to or not."
His
grip relaxed. The heat she had been trying to ignore had increased in strength,
growing, enveloping her. No longer able to ignore it, she tried her best to
control the power. Mayhap if she disregarding the quivering, it would go away.
But
the searing heat refused to fade. If anything, it was growing stronger. When
Richmond's gloved hands began to gently caress her fingers, the painful ache
his touch provoked bolted the length of her arms.
Richmond
felt the heat, too. It was difficult not to. Heat generated by his intense
emotions for the woman who was his charge, a princess unaware. A woman he was
too weak to fight his feelings for. In faith, he was not entirely sure he
wanted to do battle with his emotions any longer. It would be far simpler and
far more destructive simply to give in to all of it.
But
to give in to his emotions would mean destroying Arissa in the process. How
could he force himself upon her, a man she had grown up knowing as a faithful
friend? How could he damage the trust between them, the companionship simply
because he had been weak enough to fall in love with her? It was his own flaw,
a flaw he would not thrust upon her because he was unwilling to do her even the
slightest amount of harm.
Forcing
himself to ignore the blazing heat was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.
It would be so easy to....
"Are
you feeling well enough that you might rejoin your party?" he asked, his
voice tight.
Arissa
was gazing at him openly. Before Mossy had interrupted them earlier, she had
been positive that Richmond had been preparing to kiss her, and she had
furthermore vowed to feel his lips upon hers, just once, even if it meant
distancing him forever. She had always been able to manipulate him in order to
fulfill her desires ever since she had been a small child; the greatest knight
in Henry's army had always bent to her will.
Aye,
she was shameless when it came to Richmond. She suddenly did not care anymore.
There was nothing more important at this moment that feeling his mouth upon her
lips as it was always meant to be.
"Nay,"
she said slowly. "I do not wish to rejoin them."
His
brow furrowed slightly until a small finger came up and delicately touched his
chin. Richmond froze; the small white finger moved across his chin and up to
his mouth, tracing an erotic line across his lower lip that sent bolts of
lightning leaping through his big body. He simply couldn't believe what he was
seeing, feeling.
Richmond
began to quiver beneath her touch. The more she explored, the more intense the
quiver. His body was tight, straining against itself to respond to her touch.
Curiosity!
His mind screamed.
A maiden's simple curiosity
!
God's Teeth, do not
respond to her! ...
oh, God....
Her
silky hand moved to his stubbled cheek, caressing it. Shifting on his lap, she
managed to lodge herself more tightly against him as her other hand came up,
cradling his entire great face within her two small palms. Gazing into his
astonished blue eyes, she smiled.
"Do
you know that I have always thought you to be the most handsome man I have ever
seen?" she whispered.
His
throat was so tight he could barely speak. "Nay, I.... I did not
know."
Her
thumbs moved along his lower lips as he spoke, watching his mouth. "You do
not smile enough," she murmured. "Father swears he’s only seen you
smile ten times in all of the years he’s known you. You smile at me ten times
in an hour. Why is that?"
He
was losing a battle greater than any he had ever fought. His palms were
sweating, aching with more desire than he had ever experienced to return her
curious touches, to explore her beloved face as she was exploring his.
"Because....
because I want to smile at you, I suppose."
She
was studying his lips intently. As his sentence concluded, she suddenly plunged
a finger into his mouth and stroked his teeth. His control snapped.
His
hands came up, clutching her beautiful face, touching her as he had never
touched anyone in his life. His gaze was both ecstatic and remorseful at the
same time.
"Riss,
we should not.... we cannot...."
All
of her restraint was gone. He was responding to her; his tender touch to her
face confirmed the most outlandish of dreams and a whimper escaped her lips, a
display of the pure joy she was beginning to feel. A gateway to eighteen years
of childish infatuation and maturing love was opening wide before her.
"Oh,
Richmond," she suddenly sobbed, tears coursing down her cheeks. "I
want to, my love, I want to. Don’t you know how long I have loved you?"
He
stared at her, his eyes as wide as the heavens. He tried to speak and nearly
choked in the process. "How.... God's Teeth, Riss, how can you say that? I
am old enough to be your father!"