Myrren's Gift (63 page)

“I just want to hold you, feel you against me. I promise I shall not—”

“Stop, don’t say any more,” she said, pointing to the door to warn him of the guards. “Just get in,” she whispered and threw back the sheets, glad for her own modesty that it was a coolish night and she had put on a gown.

He was now pulling his shirt over his head. It fascinated her how men did that—women would always undo the buttons—but that thought was lost at the sight of Romen’s near-naked body. Wyl slipped in beside her, gently pulling her toward him, and she relinquished all control of herself.
If it happens now I
will let it
, she thought to herself, turning so she could feel the full length of his long, hard body against hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Hush,” she replied.

Later she clung close, knowing she had to tell Romen about the ride that was to occur in just a couple of hours. She could already hear the first lone chirping of a bird sounding the start of the dawn’s cacophony.

She had no more time to hesitate.

“How did you know how to find this chamber, anyway?”

“Fynch,” he said, stroking her face. “Valentyna, if I die today—”

“Stop it!”

“No, listen to me,” he pressed. “If I die today I will die the happiest man in the southern lands because I have known you and I have loved you…and I have held you and touched you like no other man.” She trembled at his words. They frightened her a little. “Let’s not talk about death.”

“I’m not, I’m talking about life—and how suddenly important mine is to me because of you.”

“Was it not before?”

“Not until I met you.”

She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Romen…I need to tell you something.”

“What, my love?”

“It’s about Celimus.”

“You must not worry about today, I promise—”

“It’s not about the tourney. It’s about this morning,” she said and he could see she was anxious.

“Tell me.” He had not stopped stroking her arm but she could feel the sudden tension in his body now, could see it reflected on his face.

“I was cornered into agreeing to take a dawn ride with him today.” He did stop the stroking now and he sat up. wincing at the pain the sudden movement brought to his healing ribs. “This was not the plan.”

She hurried on. “There was no way out. I had to agree or risk offense and you had cautioned me to be friendly…flirtatious, you even said.”

Wyl ran his hands through his hair repeatedly as he considered this new twist. It was not her fault and he told her as much, although she could sense his despair.

“I’ll keep it short and we’ll have an escort—I shall see to that. Perhaps I can steer the conversation to neutral territory.”

She hated that he smirked at her last remark. “It’s no good. Valentyna. He will ask the question this morning. He wants time alone with you. without his courtiers and advisors about him, and now he has achieved it. Never, ever underestimate him—it will be your undoing.” She nodded, not knowing what else to say or do. Sitting up, she leaned against his broad warm body.

“I wish you had taken my virginity last night, Romen. Then we could just tell the truth and be done.” He smiled as one would to a child. “Things are so black-and-white for you aren’t they? It would not be over for him. It would be just the beginning of the horror, not the end. Admitting such a betrayal would mean choosing war for your realm. He would put the full might of the Morgravian Legion toward destroying you and right now he would achieve it. No. you are the reigning monarch of the realm he covets and as pure as this King would want you. You are perfect in his eyes, especially now that he has seen you. No one in the Great Hall last night could mistake what he was thinking. He wants to own you.

That’s why I stopped. Valentyna. I want you so much and yet I cannot have you like that. I must love you from afar.”

“Not forever, though. Say it isn’t so.”

“I can’t. We are walking along a cliff edge right now and the only thing that matters is your safety and your realm remaining intact. Our love is secondary to that. You know this. You know your father would expect you to think of Briavel.”

“Then he would encourage me to marry Celimus.”

“Perhaps.” Wyl admitted. “But knowing what you do of him now. perhaps not. Anyway, we must worry about this morning. You’d better get yourself readied while I think.”

“Perhaps I could say I am unwell?”

“No. You must attend. And I must come up with an idea that prevents you having to say yes to his inevitable proposal of marriage.”

Chapter 39

He was flattered by her genuine admiration of the stallion he rode this morning. It was a thoroughbred from the most famous of studs in Grenadyn, a country renowned for horse-breeding.

“He’s even more beautiful close up.” she said, unable to stop touching the magnificent beast, whose flesh twitched and shivered, eager to be moving again. “How old is he?”

“Two years,” Celimus said, in turn marveling at how much more desirable this woman looked in her plain riding garb. She had taken his breath away last night but this morning she was even more alluring. “You don’t suffer from vanity, do you, Valentyna?” he commented.

She glanced toward the four men who escorted them; they stood too far away to hear this conversation.

The King had wasted no time becoming intimate.

“I have no time for it.”

“It is most unusual. I don’t believe I know another woman who cares less about her appearance.”

“Is that a compliment, my lord?” She laughed, hoping to make light of the topic.

“Of the highest sort, truly,” he assured and there was no condescension in his tone this time. “The women at the court of Morgravia fuss and fiddle with their hair, they talk earnestly about silks and colors, their only conversation centers around newest acquisitions or how they look and whom they might marry or marry their kin to. They bore me. But you…you would rather talk about horses than gossip with other women. I sense.”

She wanted to accuse him of being hypocritical. He possessed enough vanity for her entire court. Instead she explained why she lacked conceit in her appearance. “It’s true. I have no interest in clothes or coloring my face, my lord. I wear fine garments only when occasion demands it, such as last eve.

Otherwise I am happiest in what you see and even happier sitting on my horse…shall we?” she said, eager to move on; she did not want to pursue this particular conversation.

“Perhaps when one is as young, intelligent, and handsome as you, Valentyna, it is easy to ignore the tendency toward narcissism.” She smiled at his words but it put a chill through her when he added, “You will be refreshing when you are my Queen at court in Morgravia.” Valentyna did not reply, pretending she had not heard his final comment as she busied herself remounting her horse and settling herself in the saddle. “Come.” she said, “we can take a canter along the line of the orchards—I believe I promised you would see them.”

Celimus smiled to himself at her evasiveness. The more distance Valentyna tried to put between them, the more fascinated he became with her. She was such a surprise. He had anticipated so much less. Until yesterday, his only thought had been to possess her realm. Now he wanted to possess her as well. He let her go ahead, enjoying watching her ride. She held her seat well and rode her beast strongly, like a man.

From this vantage he could also admire her neat behind, which he was very sure now he was going to enjoy soon enough.

The sudden thought of feeling himself against, between, within her, aroused him instantly and he had to shake his head free of the notion of taking her here and now—throwing her down and ripping off those riding breeches, pushing in from behind. He took a deep breath and kicked his horse into a gallop. She laughed indulgently at his challenge.

“Apparently, you can ride the pants off me, your majesty?” he called and she saw the arch of his eyebrows, heard the challenge in his voice.

The soft-natured horse she was riding was no match for the proud stallion but she gave friendly chase all the same, ensuring her escort kept in close range.

Their time was almost up. It was nearing third bell—midmorning—and when Valentyna felt she need not linger any further she politely suggested they return to the palace so she could prepare for the tourney.

She felt she had adeptly avoided all potential for intimacy, often deliberately straying toward the escort and querying her men as though she did not know how to respond to some of the King’s questions. This brought the others into the conversation and kept her safe.

She knew Celimus understood what she was doing but she did not care. Right now Valentyna clung to her memories of the previous night, embracing Romen, feeling his bare skin against herself and his mouth on hers, his hands roaming her body…it was what helped her get through these past hours. The thought of holding him again tonight drove her on to get through what she knew would be a trying day.

A serious error in judgement snapped her mind back to reality. Valentyna had strolled from the party to pick some apples for the horses and when she turned back at the sound of the King’s voice she realized they were alone.

“I’ve told the escort to walk the horses over to there,” he said, pointing, “that we would join them in a couple of minutes for the ride back.”

She prayed the fright did not show on her face. She turned to pick another apple. “Thank you. I’ll just get this last one. I’m sure your horse will appreciate the ripest.”

“I’m sure he would,” Celimus agreed, stepping closer—too close, she felt. “As I do too.” he said.

Valentyna tensed. She knew exactly what he meant in that clever retort but she made an attempt to deflect his innuendo. “Oh. well you’re welcome to have it. I’m sorry. I didn’t think to offer.” she said, holding out the apple.

“I meant you.” he said, direct now. “You are ripe for the picking. Valentyna. and I want no one else to taste you first. You know why I am here and I am glad I came. I have seen for myself what a perfect Queen you will make beside me. presiding over Morgravia and Briavel.”

“My lord, perhaps we should discuss this—”

“Right now, I prefer. Just us. I want you to be my Queen. Will you marry me, Valentyna?” He was shocked when she laughed. “Yes,” she said. “I will marry you, Celimus, but you must win me first,” she added in a gently mocking voice. She had no idea whether she could pull this off but Romen had counseled her on how and when to spring this last trap if it was needed.

“Win you?” Celimus said, his surprise evident in his tone.

“Yes, my lord.” Her voice was crisp and confident and she was grateful for it in this dangerous charade she had put into play. “I don’t know how it’s done in Morgravia but in Briavel our men must earn the right to their chosen woman.”

“Is that so?” he said, more playfully now. entering into the spirit of her suddenly flirtatious manner.

“It is.” She gathered the apples into a linen and tied them. “At this afternoon’s tourney, you will fight for me,” she said loftily and then giggled, deliberately stumbling and falling against him so her breast, seemingly accidentally, touched his arm. She hated the sensation.

Another thrill of desire passed through him. “I shall fight for your hand, my lady,” he said, playing along.

“Who must I duel with?”

“The people will love it!” She laughed again. “You will cross swords with the Queen’s Champion.”

“Who is?”

She arched her eyebrows, faking high mystery. “Ah, a stranger in black who never shows his face,” she said, full of intrigue.

Celimus smirked, only just realizing she had walked them back to where the group was now standing.

“And if I vanquish your Champion, your hand is mine…is this right?” Valentyna swallowed. Dangerous now. “Yes, sire.”

“Bring him on,” Celimus replied, sweeping his hand through the air.

Watching his confident flourish, Valentyna wished Romen had never suggested this ploy. It was not a game to be playing with this man. She could see as much in the dark and greedy gaze of Celimus.

Wyl felt it was the royal tournament all over again. Despite the lack of the grandeur that had been so evident in Morgravia, this homespun version in the King’s honor prompted a similar sense of destiny within him. He felt distracted and nervous about facing Celimus again—not because he was afraid of him.

No, he was more afraid at what he himself might do in the heat of the moment, especially as Valentyna had now laid down very firm rules about this contest between the King and the Queen’s Champion.

“Romen, whatever our personal grudges are against this man, such feelings must not come in the way of what we are trying to achieve here.” He said nothing and she did not appreciate the grim set of that mouth she loved so much. “Let us be very clear,” she continued, “we are aiming to send him on his way to buy us time. That’s what you said.”

Again, no response as he inspected his sword. They were in a little-used outbuilding and she was circling him. half-frightened, half-angry with him. Fynch, trapped between them, held on to Knave and watched carefully. He too was worried. He did not like the turn of events. Together with Romen they had been hiding in the stone outbuilding, close to the tourney field, since daybreak and the tension had gradually mounted until the Queen had returned from her ride and told them what had unfolded. If Romen had been relatively uncommunicative all morning, he had now plummeted into a frigid silence.

His expression had grown dark and distant, his normally glittering gray eyes looked depthless. All humor had vanished from a countenance that usually oozed it.

Valentyna accepted that Romen was disturbed, distressed, demented even at how things had turned out.

She too hated that Celimus had contrived to speak with her unattended but they had foreseen this, had plotted for it, and although the plan bordered on childish in its simplicity, there was certainly nothing childish about the grave set of Romen’s features. Something sinister was lurking. What did he have in mind?

“Romen!”