Amongst Silk and Spice (6 page)

Another few days walk and they reached a river, its water shining brightly as it meandered down the riverbed, which by its nature would seemingly swell at times. The river allowed for agriculture along its banks and Hugo saw date trees, fruit and grain crops. The river also made it seem as though they were heading toward something, instead of the endless sand, forming senseless patterns over the land.

Hugo preferred walking. It felt like he was doing something, and today, she was walking as well. He'd long taken his chainmail off, and the camel was carrying his sword as well, as there was no one in sight, and the convoy ahead of them were too far away to serve an immediate threat.

The girl was introspect today, quiet, walking steadily without complaint. Her shoes were not going to last though. He should have thought of it, but it hadn't occurred to him. The next town or oasis they reached, he would have to find her something that would last the journey ahead of them.

Looking over at her, she saw the silk shoes emerge from under her red gown as she walked. She wore a veil now, obscuring her face, but he could still see the outline of her features, her eyes on the horizon, lost in thought.

Following the river, they reached caves, an endless number of caves carved into a sandy hill—another site for the idolatrous pilgrims. The sun was setting and Hugo could see the convoy stopping ahead, near what looked like some merchant stores. There was also the massive building he remembered from his first crossing, eight stories high, built into the hill behind it. It really was the largest building he'd ever come across, seemingly reaching into heaven. Not even castles were so high—churches maybe, but not with stories piled on each other. The roofs were of the green curved tiles the Cathayans used, and the structures painted white and red. There was a nice symmetry to the Cathayan buildings, but without the strength of stone. The Cathayans depended on their walls to keep them safe, while the structures inside were not built for defense.

As the day cooled, Hugo considered pulling his mail on, feeling more wary with people around. The people were undisturbed by another set of travelers as this place catered predominantly to their general ilk, whether merchants traveling through or pilgrims here for worship.

"We need to buy you some shoes," he said.

"Yes," she concurred, without an argument for once. Normally, she seemed to disagree with everything he said on principle, and it made him wonder what was on her mind.

Leading their camels into what functioned as the main street, they saw wares displayed along the edges of the street, selling everything from vegetables and meat from the surrounding region, to spice and tools. They reached a tent selling clothes and shoes, displayed on a rough wooden table and Hugo stopped his camel, taking Eloise's reins as she went to survey the goods, lifting her veil off her head and letting the light material flow down around her shoulders.

Bypassing the beautiful pairs, she went for the sturdy leather and Hugo was relieved she had some sense. She dropped a pair to the ground and lifted her skirt, revealing the length of her ankle and calf, which was pale and shapely. Unwisely, Hugo felt himself react to the sight. It had been too long since he'd been with a woman, but it couldn't be this one. He'd noted her pleasant form, but he'd found her too annoying to truly notice her curves, or perhaps he'd forbidden himself from looking.

She chose a pair of light brown, leather shoes with thick soles, which would keep the stones and the heat from assaulting her feet. The thin-soled silk shoes she wore would have done both. Placing her fine, silk shoes in the camel's saddle bag, she walked on in the new ones, while he paid the merchant.

"Thank you," she said, when he caught up with her. He didn't say anything in reply, but it might be the first time she'd actually thanked him. "And for letting me send a note before we left. It means much to me knowing I can alleviate some of my friend's worries."

Friend
—not how he would refer to the man she'd been living with, which made him wonder how she saw the relationship. "Why would he not marry you?"

Eloise frowned and didn't say anything for a while. "Several reasons, I suppose. He feels I should marry someone young. He will return to his home one day, and I suspect he believes my regard for him would not survive it."

"Is he right?"

She didn't answer, instead looked down at her new shoes, crunching the gravel of the road as they walked down the length of the hill with the countless caves.  Her silence was answer enough.

They would claim one of those caves tonight, but first they had to eat, and Hugo guided them toward a food seller with tables and chairs.

"As I said, their lives are very structured, and admittedly, I am perhaps not well suited for it," she said after a while.

"Perhaps all this travel has made you restless—unsuited to marriage and the life of a good wife."

Surprisingly, she didn't argue, instead turning her attention to the food seller and tying up her camel to a tree next to the tent. They claimed one of the tables and Hugo waved at the man whose origin he couldn't determine to bring something over. Two bowls came with meat and vegetables in broth, accompanied with wooden spoons and sticks. As he watched, Eloise nimbly used the sticks to guide morsels into the spoon, but his fingers were too large and clumsy for the sticks.

The sun was setting and a small lamp was hung from the center of the tent by the time they finished. The air cooled quickly with the setting of the sun and he could see Eloise shivering in her dress, which was never meant for the cold nights of the desert. "We should go," he said and again she didn't argue. Perhaps she had accepted the fact that she was returning to England.

Sand was encroaching into one cave-opening set into the base of the hill and they tied up their camels and walked inside the pitch-black space. Taking the lamp and the bottle of oil out of his satchel, Hugo filled the lamp and ground a spark to ignite the wick. Defuse light from the lamp filled the cave, showing paintings of the idolater's god on the walls.

The cave was cool and its floor covered with soft sand, which would make a nicer sleeping place than the hard stone of the other caves, making this uncared-for cave a better resting place for travelers.

Eloise returned outside and unstrapped her blankets from the camel, while Hugo went farther and gathered firewood. He returned to light the fire, then tended to the camels, feeding and watering them for the night.

Light shone out of the large monastery and a few of the caves, but darkness encompassed everything. But tonight they wouldn't be sleeping under the starts, which sparkled in their countless thousands in the clear sky of the desert.

When he returned to the cave, Eloise was sitting by the fire on her blankets, her feet bare and crossed ahead of her. His attention was drawn to her shapely ankles again, white now in contrast to her deep red dress. It was still an unusual dress, made for warmer climes and a radically different culture. The arms were bare under the shawl and he could he could see the outline of the dress’ neckline underneath.

"What does my father want with me?" she said, drawing his attention away from her exposed skin.

Hugo shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Maybe he seeks an alliance by marrying you off." It was the only logical thing he could think of.

"And what if you found me married already?"

"I'm not sure he would recognize such a marriage—unless it was to an English nobleman."

Eloise snorted. "He didn't recognize his own marriage, so why would he mine?" She rearranged her skirt, accidentally showing a bit more of her legs in the process. She seemed unaware of it. "I will not marry for him, and he cannot make me. I refuse to acknowledge his claim on me and if he presses the issue, I have legal gravity to my side."

"You would defy your father?"

"He's not my father. You remember the circumstances of that development, I recall. You were, after all, the one who initially informed me."

Hugo sought out her eyes, seeing how much she disliked him—she always had. Her lips were set in a tight line and her head held high—exactly like she had been when she was twelve. He chuckled, then rose to place another few sticks of kindling on the fire. "He will likely see it as your duty to marry as he prescribes."

"Then he is in for a surprise. Did you marry as you were told to?"

"Yes," he said. "My father agreed with the king on the alliance."

"Who was she?"

"Lord Tiverton's daughter."

"Did she have a name?"

"Annette," he said.

"What was she like?"

"She had brown hair." Truthfully, he couldn't remember much more about her.

"I'm sorry for your loss. It must be awful losing a wife and a child," Eloise said, the sharpness in her voice leaving her. "I could not imagine."

"In all honesty, I didn't really know her. I met her at the altar and stayed with her for some weeks before returning to France. She was shy and didn't speak much."

"Likely she was scared of you. And that is not the kind of marriage proposition I'll be willing to accept. How can you marry someone, choose to commit the rest of your life to someone you don't know?"

"Duty," he said, remembering how ill at ease he'd been, marrying a girl he didn't know, or had even seen, from a neighboring district, but the alliance had brought land with it, and that was reward above anything else. Perhaps Eloise was right, though; she had some protection against her father's will due to the annulment, nor was she tied to the land and subject to the earl's will as her mother was French. Legally, he didn't have sway over her, but then courts weren't always interested in the rights of illegitimate women.

They grew quiet for a moment and Hugo sat down again, along the oppose wall of the small cave, his sword next to him in case thieves or worse tried their luck during the night.

"You look down on my marriage?" he said. "And your absence of marriage with a Saracen was better?"

"At least I loved him, and he me."

"A sin some would say," he stated back, knowing her point was valid. He hadn't known either his wife or the son resulting from their short time together. Their passing had been an abstract thing, not a loss keenly felt. It did bother him on some level that the passing of his family had been registered more with annoyance than with care. Love was not a thing he readily understood. He'd loved his brother and Ritchie's passing had cut him deeply, but to love someone not his family, like Eloise professed to love this Saracen, was incomprehensible. "You say you love him, but with a reluctance for permanence." Pursing her lips together, she watched him as the accusation stood. "Your love wavers."

"You can love someone and release them, knowing it is for the best."

"Flitting emotions. One cannot live their lives by flitting emotions. Marriage is for the betterment of the family."

Eloise's eyebrows rose. "You've been indoctrinated in the beliefs of the English nobles."

"I am an English noble."

"There are other ways to live. I would have thought you'd noticed, traveling all this way. Does the scenery pass you by without further notice?"

"What is there to notice? I am an English nobleman and I will be just that when I return. I serve the king, I do my duty and I tend my lands," although no one was doing much of that as of late. "Why try to be someone I'm not."

"Because maybe those flitting emotions have more value than you assign them."

"Chaos and inconstancy," he said. "Where would we be if everyone ran around doing what they want? There is no culture on earth that supports that."

"Maybe you wouldn't be fighting an endless war, for one."

Hugo smiled, conceding the point to her. "Touché," he said, laying down on his blankets, feeling tiredness seep into his body and mind. Involuntarily, his eyes returned to her ankles, which would be warm and smooth to the touch. He couldn't have her, but abstractly he wished he could. Right now, he could think of nothing he wanted more than to sink into the warm, softness of a woman's body—although perhaps someone a little more wanton than the shrew opposite him. Then again, she'd lived in sin with a man—by choice. Perhaps she relished a man's touch. It didn't bear thinking about, particularly as tired and in the longing state he was in right then.

"A society is infinitely better off educating its daughters," Eloise argued. "In Constantinople, women educate themselves, as doctors even. They run their own business, own property. Society doesn't fall apart because women can be independent. England would be much better off educating its daughters."

"Or it would just make them argumentative."

Eloise shook her head in annoyance. "If England educated their daughters, all daughters, the whole nation would benefit. Even the men."

"How would the men benefit?" he challenged, obviously not believing a word she was saying.

"Educated mothers produce educated children, and knowledge is wisdom."

"Fathers educate their children."

"Well, not if they're off at war all the times, do they?" she said pointedly.

"What good is filling our daughters' heads with strange notions? Are we going to have them run off like you did?"

"And what alternative did you see for me? What would you suggested I've done? Tell me what options I had."

"You could have beseeched your father."

"Oh, the man who effectively murdered my mother? Is that what you would have done?"

"No, I would have killed him, but I'm a man."

Eloise grew quiet for a moment. "Violence solves nothing."

"I disagree. It quite effectively solves disagreements."

"It's only a means of creating further discord."

"There may be discontented grumblings, but threats keep people in their place."

"There's more to the world than control."

"Control keeps the peace."

"What would you know of peace? What you're doing is the opposite of peace. This war in France has nothing to do with peace. It's greed, pure and simple, taking what doesn't belong to you."

"The kings begs to differ. By divine right comes his ascension to the French throne. And he'll have your head if he hears you speak like that."

"Only a weak king fears speech."

Hugo chuckled. "You are intent on getting yourself into trouble, aren't you? Keep that up and the only outcome for you, if you're lucky, is a convent."

"So I can be locked away and forgotten about."

"Exactly. Beats the Tower. A man speaking like you do would end up there. These travels have twisted your mind."

"Or untwisted it."

"Tis unnatural for a woman to be so opinionated," he said with finality like he did when he wanted to end an argument. "I rue the husband your father has intended for you, having to listen to your opinions for the rest of his life. You will drive a man to violence if nothing else—just for a moment of peace. What man wouldn't willingly go to war to avoid the constant nattering in his ear?"

Crossing her arms, sitting on the camel high above him, moving with the steady, unrelenting steps of the beast, she vowed never to speak to him again, like she had so many times before. But there was nothing else to do, and like so many times before, she would return to arguing with him when the silence and boredom got too oppressive. He, like most men of his class, was pig-headed, narrow-minded and uncouth. They only saw the things they were told to see, but there were better ways to live. "You're just getting upset because my arguments make sense."

Hugo harrumphed, and he placed a piece of straw in his mouth to chew as he walked by his camel, no longer needing to hold its reins.

The Mohammedean traders had stopped up ahead and Hugo warily slowed their camels and Eloise unveiled herself to see better, but the traders were still too far away to tell what they were doing. Perhaps something was wrong.

As they got closer, she could see that they were preparing to travel again, attaching water pouches to their camels' burdens. There was water here, she realized with excitement, like she did every time they came across a watering hole, putting off debilitating thirst for a while longer. Even though she knew logically that there was water in places along the trail, she feared missing one, or simply not having enough and dying of thirst. It was a very real fear in this desert and a simple mistake—a cut in a water pouch and they were dead, not only dead, they would know they were in for a painful and drawn-out death.

It didn't look like there was water. There was neither a lake nor a river, but there was water somewhere, perhaps a well. They came to the traders just as they were preparing to leave and one of the Saracens pointed to the rock formation before leaping onto the back of their camels and made the clicking noise telling the beast to rise.

Hugo urged their camels down and they happily welcomed a rest. Sliding off the camel's back, Eloise found her feet after hours of sitting, and walked toward the stone wall the Saracen had pointed to. They were alone now as the traders were moving away. Hugo joined her search of the formation until they found a crevasse. If they didn't know it was there, they would never have found it, although the footsteps in the sand said this was an entrance.

Hugo held her back as she tried to go in, walking ahead of her. This was the knight coming out, confronting the unknown. Surely he wasn't expecting anyone to attack them here. Rolling her eyes, she followed him through the tight crevasse, which led to a cavernous space, lit by a hole in the roof. The sand inside angled down into a hidden stream, which moved silently across the stone formation underneath—an awe-inspiring sight. They'd conserved every drop of water, and here was a whole flowing stream, abundant with water, hidden in this dry, desolate desert. It looked quite deep too, likely drawing water from deep inside the earth.

To Eloise's surprise, Hugo stripped his shirt off, revealing his broad chest and muscled back. The action shocked her for a second, until he did the same with his breeches—a moment of abandon she had not thought him capable of. Not only abandon, but he was completely nude as he stepped into the water, gasping at its coolness.

Eloise didn't know where to look, but equally, she couldn't stop looking. His body was so different from anyone else she'd seen, broad and corded from constant fighting. His face and arms were the color of sand, which floated across the water as he submerged himself.

If he had the highest regard for her, he would never undress like that in front of her, but he'd made his opinion of her fairly clear, not that she cared—her regard for him was even lower. But he was enjoying the water and she could only stand by and watch. Hugo's groan of pure enjoyment reverberated off the walls. Why should he have the reward of this stream and her not? She traveled across the desert just like he had, and was just as covered with sand. Oddly, for not having washed in weeks, they didn't seem to smell, the desert seemingly taking all odors in its dryness. She still didn't like being filthy when there was a heavenly stream.

Hugo stood in the water and brushed his hands through his hair, which was darker now, slicked with moisture. She could see scars on his chest, gained through battle, along with muscle. There was no softness in him, hard muscle from every angle. Tension flared through her at the sight. He was as far removed from her own soft curves as possible.

Reaching for the side of the dress, she started to unbutton, refusing to stand there and just watch him enjoy the water.

"What are you doing?" Hugo asked, having noticed her action.

"I am going in the water."

"And you think it's appropriate?"

"I've just traveled weeks across the desert and finally see a heavenly stream, and I should what, refrain? You're the only one here and I honestly don't care what you think. Although you could show a modicum of respect and turn around."

He didn't move. Eloise's mouth tightened with annoyance. He was trying to bully her and she was having none of it. Undoing the last button, she let the dress drop to the ground, too angry to care that his eyes were roaming down, taking in her body and the small silk braises she wore. She strode into the water and immersed herself in the cool liquid, running her hands over every limb to wash off the sand. It felt absolutely glorious, completely distracting her from the fact that she'd just stripped off nude in front of him.  She submersed herself in the water.

He was still staring at her when she came back up and looked back at him. His eyes were piercing, and for the first time, she felt self-conscious. The water was cool, but she felt heated, perhaps a reaction to what she'd just done. It had nothing to do with the water beading on his chest and the expanse of muscle, and a strong neck gave to stronger shoulders. Eloise had never seen a man like him in the nude and she struggled to tear her gaze away.

"And what if I'm overcome and ravish you right here?"

Color flared up her cheeks at the picture that formed in her mind. It seemed so unlikely, not to mention forbidden, although over the years she'd successfully challenged many of the forbidden notions ingrained in her. This would not be one she would challenge, though. "Then you would have a lot to answer for."

He stared at her for a while, before a tiniest smile tugged on one corner of his mouth. Turning, he walked out of the stream toward his clothes, picking them up off the sand with a huff. His muscles flexed as he moved and he stood facing her as if he had no shame over his nudity. Eloise could see his manhood and the thatch of curls crowning it. His blessings had not been neglected in that regard, she noted, wishing she'd never seen that.

Tearing her eyes away, Eloise turned to give him privacy, but truthfully, it was more to stop herself from staring and her own reaction. The last thing she needed was heated reactions whenever she laid eyes on him. There certainly wasn't any risk of tender feelings, but neither could she tolerate heat and blushes when he looked at her. The mere fact that she hated him was enough to make such a reaction embarrassing.

She'd grown not to fear her desire, but it couldn't be directed toward him. Of the men she would choose to be with, it would never be someone like him. She wanted someone educated and wise, someone who would challenge her, not to mention appreciate her. Hugo thought she was unnatural, would always seek to suppress her curiosity, and her intelligence.

He left the enclave and Eloise gave herself a last dip in the cool water before treading up the bank to dress. Her skin prickled with the cold air of this shaded space and her nipples tightened. Unbidden, an image of his large, warm hand stroking down her skin accosted her, tickling deep inside her belly. Perhaps their encounter over the last hour had been a disaster, if her mind was now thinking of him in those terms. But she refused to—he was everything she despised in a man and encompassed all the things she'd consistently abandoned her home for.

As she was redoing the buttons at the side of her dress, he returned with the watering bowls for the camels. "Fill the pouches," he said gruffly, not looking at her.