By this time Guntram and the man-at-arms had
positioned themselves on either side of Danise. Guntram fixed a
fierce glare upon Clodion.
“I would be delighted,” Clodion said to the
noblemen. “Danise, my dear, I fear you must excuse me. Our
conversation has been most pleasant. We will speak again soon. Good
day to you.” And off he went with the nobles as though he and
Danise had been discussing nothing more serious than the unusually
hot weather.
“Beware of that man,” said Guntram. “His soul
is sadly twisted toward forms of cruelty you are too innocent to
understand, Danise.”
“Aye,” agreed the man-at-arms. “I’ve heard
stories about Count Clodion. Mistress, you should never be alone
with him.”
“He pursued me,” Danise said, “though I swear
to you, I don’t know why he persists. He must know I dislike him.
In the future, I will stay as far away from him as I can,” she
vowed.
Oddly, after that incident Clodion kept his
own distance from her, and she soon pushed his outrageous
suggestions to the back of her mind in order to concentrate on her
duties to the queen. Hildegarde’s current pregnancy was a difficult
one and was not made any easier by a series of overly warm, humid
days when there was no breeze at all. The sun beamed down as if it
were already midsummer, and inside the royal tents the air was
stifling. Only within the shade of the forest was there any relief
to be found from the oppressive heat. Danise and the other ladies
piled up mattresses beneath the trees so Hildegarde and her
children could rest there.
On an unbearably hot afternoon, with the
queen and her children napping in the shade and Sister Gertrude and
several other women sitting near her, Danise was given some free
time. Feeling restless she made her way to the riverbank not far
from her father’s tents. There she stood beneath an ancient oak,
staring at the water without seeing it. Half formed images floated
through her mind. Recollections of Hugo, grown dim and soft with
the passage of time, were quickly replaced by more recent memories
of Michel sorely injured as she had first seen him, and then of
Michel returned to health, clad in chain mail and sitting upon his
gray horse. She recalled his kisses and the way he had embraced her
with a firm yet gentle strength. She remembered his hands upon her
body. And she wondered again why he was now treating her so
coolly.
“It is too hot to think on such serious
subjects,” she muttered, pushing back a loose piece of hair and
tucking it behind her ear. “The river will cool me.”
She looked around to be sure there was no one
to see her. Apparently anyone who did not have a pressing duty had
gone off to seek the green shade of the forest. Convinced that she
was completely alone, Danise pulled off her dress, shoes and
stockings. After a moment’s hesitation, she removed her shift, too.
Then she stepped away from the oak tree and into the water.
It was as cool as she had imagined it would
be, a lovely refreshment from the heat of the day. Danise waded out
from the riverbank until she was waist deep before she began to
splash water onto her breasts and shoulders and arms. Because of
the heat she was wearing her hair pinned up in a topknot to keep it
off her neck, so she did not need to worry about it getting wet.
After rinsing her face she sank into the water until it reached her
chin. There she floated, drifting a bit with the current, but never
moving far from the place where her clothes were folded at the base
of the oak tree. Knowing it would only lead to useless confusion,
she tried not to think about her personal dilemma over the choices
she would soon have to make. This was an hour in which to relax and
think about nothing at all.
When she was sufficiently cooled, she lazily
worked her way back to shore. She stood on the riverbank for a
moment, rubbing the excess moisture off her body with her hands,
before she picked up her shift and put it on. She was still damp,
so the garment clung to her, revealing the high, pointed tips of
her breasts and the curving lines of hip and thigh. She did not
care if her undergarment was wet. Perhaps the dampness would help
to keep her cool. Her dress was blue silk, light in weight and
loose in style. She was just reaching for it when she heard a
sound. She looked up to see a man coming down the sloping ground
toward her.
“Michel, I did not know you had returned.
Where is my father?” Then, blushing, she added, “Have you been
watching me?”
“I didn’t know you were here,” he said. “I
was planning to bathe, myself. We’ve had a long, hot ride.” His
chest was bare. The tunic he had just pulled off was slung over one
shoulder.
“You are staring at me,” she accused.
“Who wouldn’t?” He did stare then, letting
his glance roam slowly from her flushed cheeks to her parted lips,
to her slender shoulders and throat and then on to the figure so
clearly revealed by the inadequate linen shift, and finally to her
legs and bare feet below the hem of the shift. For a moment or two
longing was written clearly upon his face, before he pulled cool
distain across his features like a veil hiding his true emotions.
“If you don’t want people to look at you, then wear more
clothing.”
“I was here first,” she declared, her nervous
embarrassment giving way to irritation. “When you saw me, you
should have gone away at once, instead of remaining to spy on
me.”
“I wasn’t spying,” he said wearily. He tossed
his tunic onto the ground and tugged off his shoes, unfastening the
leather strips that bound shoes and hose to his lower legs. “Is
this the way you treat all your suitors, by snarling like an angry
tigress when they speak to you?”
“Since you make a habit of avoiding me,” she
snapped, “I did not know you still meant to be a suitor.”
“Danise, I am hot and tired,” he began, but
she cut him short.
“I remind you that you intruded on me,” she
said, bending to gather up her clothing. “I leave the river to you.
Perhaps it will wash away your ill humor.”
“Aren’t you going to dress? You can’t go back
to the camp wearing only that – that invisible
thing
!” When
she would have brushed by him, he caught her upper arms, keeping
her where she was. “Are you insane, to walk around like that?” he
demanded.
“Not at all,” she replied with admirable
coolness considering how upset she was by his sudden unexpected
appearance and by his manner. “I will dress there, in that clump of
bushes where no one, including you, will be able to see me. I
assure you, I will not look toward the river to see yon unclothed,
so you need have no concern about revealing too much to me. I have
recently learned how little you like to reveal of yourself, or of
your intentions.”
“You already know what my intentions are.
Damn it, Danise, why are you doing this to me?” Jerking her roughly
forward, he held her tightly against him while he planted a hard,
angry kiss on her half opened mouth. Danise’s damp shift was scant
protection against the prickly sensation caused on her breasts by
the dark hair of his chest, or against the warmth of his body
pressed close to hers from waist to shoulder.
After a moment the kiss changed. His lips on
hers ceased to demand and instead began to coax and tease until
Danise granted him free access to the inner moistness of her mouth.
Michel’s arms went around her, and her hands worked their way about
his waist. Her silk dress slid unnoticed from her fingers to the
ground. Slowly Danise became aware of a hardness against her thigh.
She knew what it was. She reveled in this evidence of his desire
for her and sensed a fluid heat beginning in her own body in
response to his masculine assertiveness.
“We can’t. We can’t do this.” Too soon he was
pushing her away. She raised heavy lids to meet his gaze. For all
the delicious surge of desire between them, it seemed he was still
annoyed with her. Or perhaps he was hurt by the sharp words she had
spoken. “I thought you would understand that I have been trying to
prove my worth to Savarec before I approach him about you. And that
you would realize we cannot be alone like this until Savarec gives
his approval.”
“Then you do want me?” she whispered. “I
feared you might have changed your mind since that day in the
forest.”
“Oh, yes, I want you. So much that if I don’t
take my hands off you right now, I won’t be responsible for my
actions.” He released her and stepped away. Casting a rueful look
toward the river, he said, “I ought to throw myself in there and
swim to the other side. I’m not sure even that would cool me off,
not with you standing there as good as naked at the edge of the
water like some alluring river sprite.”
“You are quite right, Michel. I ought to
dress at once.” But she made no move to pick up the dress she had
dropped. “You do intend to speak to my father then, about becoming
one of my suitors? Or have you already done so? Perhaps I ought not
to be so insistent on knowing, but it is my future we are
considering as well as yours.”
“I have made a good start with Savarec,”
Michel said. “I think I have made a favorable impression on him
during the last few days. But I need more time. I need a chance to
win wealth and perhaps even a title by my sword. I hoped to have a
chance to begin earning those prizes by fighting against Autichar,
but that was not to be.”
Danise bit her lip, trying to repress a cry
of fear. This was the way Hugo had once talked, so sure of gaining
all he wanted by proving his valor. Hugo was dead, and she had just
besmirched his tender memory by embracing a half unclothed man
while she herself was barely covered. Worse, she had let Michel
believe she would seriously consider marrying him. How could she
think of marrying anyone but Hugo, to whom she had promised her
heart for all time? How could she feel such a flood of desire for
another man? Why was she so unable to control her feelings for
Michel? To hide her shame at her own wanton behavior, Danise spoke
coldly.
“I assume you did not find Autichar?”
Michel gave her a puzzled look before
answering. “We located a deserted camp where he and his men may
have stopped for a night, but we never saw a soul from his troop.
It’s too bad we didn’t catch him in some mischief. From what your
father says about him, I wouldn’t be surprised if Autichar were up
to something devious.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell me,
Michel?” She hoped he would reveal that his memory had returned.
She was sadly disappointed by his casual answer to her
question.
“Only that Savarec ought to be in his tent by
now, if you would like to welcome him back in private,” he
said.
“Is that all you will say to me?”
“I’ve said all that I decently can,” he
replied, “and done more than I should have done by kissing you. I
understand that there are certain customs I will have to follow. I
need your father’s approval to officially become your suitor. Trust
me, Danise. It’ll work out, I promise.”
How could she trust him when he kept
something so important from her? Not telling her that his memory
had returned was like lying to her, for the omission was meant to
lead her to believe an untruth. But she knew about his memory, and
his refusal to tell her made his promises worthless.
And how could she trust herself and her own
emotions when she gladly returned the embraces of such a man?
Sighing, Danise retrieved her garments and began to trudge up the
slope toward the bushes she had earlier pointed out to Michel.
“Danise?”
“Yes?” She waited, praying he would say what
she wanted to hear, hoping he would trust her enough to tell her
everything.
“I do promise,” he said again. “You’ll see,
it will be all right.”
“You ought not to make promises you cannot
keep,” she replied, and turned her back on him.
The river was cool, but not cold enough to
ease the throbbing at Michel’s groin or calm the disorder of his
thoughts. It had taken all of his willpower to keep from pushing
Danise down onto the soft grass to make passionate love to her.
There had been a moment when he sensed that she would allow it,
that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But he owed a great
debt to Savarec and he was determined not to do anything to harm
either his benefactor or that benefactor’s daughter. If Danise was
to be his, he would win her openly and fairly. As for Danise
herself, he could not understand the way she could change in an
instant from warm and willing to cool and distant. She should have
understood without being told that a man in his position would have
to be careful when dealing with his commander’s daughter.
As Michel waded out of the river he noticed
Count CIodion waiting for him. Clodion sauntered forward, looking
with open interest at Michel’s naked form.
“You are remarkably well-endowed, aren’t
you?” Clodion drawled, letting his eyes rest boldly on Michel’s
private parts. “Now I begin to understand.”
“Why are you here, Clodion?” With sudden
chilling comprehension of how a woman must feel when ogled by a man
with sex on his mind, Michel grabbed his tunic and pulled it over
his head, tugging it downward to his thighs as quickly as he
could.
“Why cover it when it’s so large and
handsome?” Clodion leered at him.
“How long have you been here?” Michel
demanded.
“Long enough to watch Danise trying to cool
her own lust in the river,” Clodion answered. “I was about to
reveal myself to her when you appeared. Why, after kissing her so
passionately, did you also resort to the water? Why didn’t you sate
yourself on her? I would willingly have joined you, you know. Three
is always such an interesting grouping.”
“You were hiding so you could watch Danise?
Why, you filthy-minded -!” Michel doubled his fist and drew back
his arm. Clodion’s self protective reflexes were remarkable. He
sprang lightly up the slope, putting himself out of reach before
Michel could hit him.