“I remember Gertrude when she was not so
strict as she is now,” Clodion said, still holding Danise. “She may
protest, but I believe she would understand a man’s eager desire to
kiss his betrothed.”
“I am not yet betrothed to anyone.” Danise
pushed hard against Clodion’s chest. “I do not want to kiss
you.”
Her protest had no effect on Clodion. He
lowered his face until his mouth was almost on hers. She turned her
head, trying to twist away from him. Just as she feared she would
be kissed in spite of her best efforts to prevent it, she heard a
familiar and most welcome voice.
“There you are, Danise. I’ve been looking for
you.” Michel strolled up to them, the very picture of a relaxed
young noble. “Good day to you, Count Clodion.”
“What do you want?” Clodion demanded with a
notable lack of courtesy.
“Danise has been helping me in my attempts to
regain my memory,” Michel informed him. “Since I want to return to
my own land as soon as possible, I am understandably eager to
continue our efforts.”
Danise stared at him, amazed to hear him
dissemble so easily. She had done nothing at all to help Michel
regain his memory. To her great relief, Clodion removed his hands
from her arm and waist. At once she stepped away from him.
“So you intend to leave Francia?” Clodion
gave Michel his full attention. “Might you take Count Redmond with
you?”
“I have thought most seriously of inviting
him to accompany me when I go,” Michel replied. The gravity of his
expression gave no indication of his thoughts, but Danise was
certain that Michel was secretly laughing at her disagreeable
suitor.
“By all means, regain your memory,” Clodion
said. “I would do nothing to prevent you – or your friend Redmond –
from returning to your home.”
“I thank you for your good wishes.” Michel
made a deep bow. Danise saw the gesture as mocking; Clodion
appeared to accept it as evidence of respect.
“You and I will speak again later, Danise.”
Clodion moved off into the throng of nobles near Charles and his
queen.
“Is aught amiss here?” Savarec approached his
daughter and Michel. “Danise, I saw Clodion with his arm about you.
You should not allow such familiarity in public unless you intend
to accept his suit.”
“I did not allow it,” Danise began, hurt that
her father could think she would be so careless with her
reputation. Michel interrupted her protest.
“It was a minor misunderstanding,” he told
Savarec, and then changed the subject before Danise’s father could
ask what the misunderstanding was. “Savarec, I would like your
permission to go alone with Danise into the forest. I want her to
take me to the exact spot where she found me. Perhaps something
there will stir my memory.”
“Alone?” Savarec considered this proposal.
“For appearance’s sake I should go with you. Or Sister
Gertrude.”
“Neither of you was present when Danise found
me,” Michel said. “I would like to repeat exactly what happened
when I was first discovered.”
“Then you should have Clothilde with you,”
said Savarec.
“It is my understanding that Danise sent
Clothilde away at once, to find you,” Michel replied. “I don’t
think it will take long, Savarec. If I am to remember anything, I
believe it will happen at once. This request is vitally important
to me, so I ask your indulgence. I promise to return Danise to you
unharmed.”
“My daughter is precious to me,” Savarec
began.
“I know it,” Michel told him. “I honor Danise
as my rescuer. You have my solemn word, I will not harm her.”
“Well,” Savarec wavered.
“Will no one ask my opinion?” Danise looked
from her father to Michel. “I will help you. I know how much it
will mean to you to have your memories back again.” She did not add
what she was thinking, that it was just as important to her to know
who he really was, to know if he was married or if he had
children.
“Very well, then,” Savarec said. “Do what you
can for him, Danise. However, you must not stay in the forest too
long. You and I may know that Michel is an honorable man who will
keep his word, but if Clodion realizes you are gone and becomes
annoyed, he may impugn your virtue, and some folk here at Duren
will listen to him. Not to mention what Sister Gertrude will say to
me if she hears of this project.”
“Thank you, Father.” Danise looked at Michel.
“Let us go at once, so we can return before we are missed.”
“Lead the way and I will follow,” he
responded.
Danise did not hesitate. She walked first to
Savarec’s tents and then began to retrace the path she had taken
into the forest on the day when she had found Michel. It was not
long before they were enclosed by trees and underbrush, sheltered
by the canopy of newly unfurled leaves. The sound of voices from
the camp was but a distant murmur muffled by the foliage. Nearer
were the pleasant sounds of occasional bird calls and of water
trickling along over stones and exposed tree roots.
“This way,” Danise said. “Clothilde and I
followed this little stream.”
“Wait a moment, please.”
“Michel, are you in pain again?” Seeing him
with both hands at his head, Danise stopped walking. “Perhaps you
should rest. We can do this another day.”
“We’ll do it now. I can’t rest until I know
who I am.” He took his hands from his forehead to look at her,
weariness etched on his face. “The bright sunshine and the
reflections from the river hurt my eyes. The noise made by so many
people talking all at once, the smells of the food, the strangeness
of it all – sometimes it’s overwhelming.”
“You are not completely well yet.”
“If I am not well, why did you desert me?” he
burst out. “Why do you refuse to talk to me?”
“I am talking to you now. I am trying to help
you.”
“I know. I do know.” He gripped her
shoulders, hurting her. “I have been experiencing moments when I
remember –
something
. Unfortunately, those moments never
last long enough for me to make any sense of them. It’s
unsettling.”
“I am sure it is. Come now, the spot you want
to see is only a short distance away.” Her heart pounding, her own
thoughts awhirl, Danise moved out of his restraining hands to lead
the way along the path taken by the stream until they reached a
clearing.
“Is this it?” Michel looked around as if he
could not believe he had ever been in that place before.
“You were lying there when I found you.”
Danise pointed to a rock half buried in dry leaves. “We decided you
must have hit your head on that stone. We thought you were in the
tree just above before you fell.”
He looked up into the green height of the
tree in question, then down at the rock. He dropped to his knees in
the pile of leaves. Shaking his head, he looked at her.
“I was so sure coming here would jog my
memory, but I recognize nothing I see, and I feel nothing unusual,”
he said. Grasping her hand he pulled her downward. “Show me exactly
how I was lying when you first saw me.”
To do as he wanted it was necessary for her
to push his arms and legs into the position she remembered. She
also remembered bathing those same limbs while he lay naked and
helpless beneath her ministering hands, and while she tried
unsuccessfully to convince herself it was his very helplessness
that tugged at her heart.
“Where were you when you found me?” he asked,
his voice somewhat muffled because he was lying face downward.
“What was the first thing you did?”
“I was here.” She sat beside him. “I turned
you over, this way.” And there he was again, lying on the ground,
gazing up at her from unbelievably blue eyes just as he had done on
the first day she had ever seen him. The man before her now was
anything but helpless. Her reaction to him was far more intense
than on their first meeting, and the strength of it frightened her.
She knew only as much about him as he knew about himself, which was
little, indeed. Who he really was did not matter. Her heart
recognized him. Having loved once, she could not be unaware of her
feelings now. She ought not to let him affect her this way. Her
father would not approve and worse – oh, far worse than Savarec’s
opinion – what she was beginning to feel toward Michel was disloyal
to…
“Danise.” He was holding her hand, drawing
her closer. When she put out her free hand to keep them apart, she
rested her palm on his chest, where she could feel his warmth and
the beating of his heart.
“I am dislocated,” he said. “Only when I am
with you does any of this make sense. Only when I see you do I feel
as if I am in the right place. Everything else is confusion and
frustration.”
“Do you feel that here you are where you
should be? Here, where I found you?”
“Only because you are here, too.” He let go
of the hand he was holding, to catch the back of her head. He
pulled her downward, his other arm around her waist as Clodion had
held her just a short time ago. How different Michel’s embrace was
from Clodion’s, how warm and strong and tempting. The hand with
which she had been pushing against his chest was now trapped
between their bodies. Though her knees were still folded up beneath
her, she was all but lying in his arms and she found it altogether
too pleasant an experience. His mouth brushed across hers.
“No, Michel, please.” If he heard her, he
paid no attention to her feebly whispered protest. He held her
firmly and kissed her hard. Danise found herself succumbing to the
heated delight of his lips on hers, letting him do what he wanted
and responding to him as though she had no obligation to anyone but
herself and him. She felt his tongue against her mouth. When she
parted her lips in surprise at this pressure, he thrust into
her.
All her thoughts fled away. Danise wanted
only to stretch out beside Michel and feel the length of his manly
frame along her body. She wanted him to go on kissing her, and
kissing her, and then …
“Danise.” Michel sat up, still holding her in
his arms. His lips caressed her forehead. His arms tightened again.
She knew he would kiss her once more.
“No.” She began to struggle, pushing at him.
He let her go at once. She faced him with an anger made all the
stronger because she knew she wanted that next kiss. “Michel, you
have broken your word to my father. You promised him no harm would
come to me.”
“I have not harmed you. You did not fight
me,” he said. “It was only one kiss.”
“Not one kiss. Two kisses. How could you do
this to me?” Shame and remorse flooded over her. “How could you
make me forget? Make me disloyal?”
“Disloyal to whom?” he asked. “To your
suitors? To Clodion? I don’t think so. To Redmond? Do you love him?
Is he the one you want?”
“No, no, you don’t understand.”
Oh, Hugo,
how could I kiss another man
?
How could I betray you so
easily
?
“Perhaps I could understand if you would
explain,” Michel said. “I honestly thought you wanted me to kiss
you. I thought you enjoyed it as much as I did. You seemed to enjoy
it.”
“Stop it!” She was on her feet, her hands
over her ears to shut out his words. It was true, she had welcomed
his kisses, but her pleasure only made things worse, only made her
feel more guilty and more disloyal to Hugo. She could not stay
where she was, not with Michel’s blue gaze probing into her heart
until she believed he must see what a callous, dishonest woman she
was.
Danise began to run, dodging among the trees,
tripping, then catching herself so she could run on, run anywhere,
so long as it was away from Michel and the temptation he
represented.
He followed her. She could hear him crashing
along behind her. And because he was stronger and faster it was not
long before he caught her. He grabbed her by the shoulders once
more and pushed her against a tree trunk and held her there.
“Now,” he said, “you are going to tell me
what is wrong. You are too sensible a woman to carry on like this
without a good reason. You know we both wanted that kiss. Why are
you so upset about it?”
“Not one kiss,” she said again, sniffing to
hold back incipient tears. “Two.” She saw laughter in his eyes at
her insistence on the exact number.
“All right, two kisses. The first scarcely
counted. It was only to test if you wanted a real one.” As quickly
as it had come, the flicker of amusement vanished from his face.
“Your eyes are haunted, Danise. You speak of disloyalty because you
enjoyed my kiss – sorry, my
kisses
. Both of them. A few days
ago you refused to tell me why you are sad. I have a right to
know.”
“What right?” She made the mistake of looking
into his eyes and found she could not look away. She could feel her
will bending to his.
“You know what right,” he said. “You know why
I kissed you. Answer me, Danise.”
Still she was captured by his eyes as firmly
as she was by his hands. She knew he would not let her go until he
had the answer he sought. She had to speak.
“Hugo loved me,” she whispered, “and I loved
him. We hoped to marry. You are the first man to kiss me since –
since he died.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t know.” Suddenly she was
no longer pressed against the tree. His arms were gentle, holding
her, and she did not protest the embrace. “How did he die? How long
has it been?”
“He marched into Spain in May of last year
and died in August, at Roncevaux, on his way home to Francia. Many
others died there, too.”
“Last August?” he repeated. “And it’s May
again now? Then it has been an entire year since you’ve seen him.
There’s no reason for you to feel guilty, Danise. Many women do not
mourn their lovers for so long a time.” She thought he could feel
the way she stiffened in resistance to that idea, for he released
her and stepped back a pace. Danise leaned against the tree trunk,
not sure she would be able to stand without its support.