Scoundrel's Kiss (37 page)

This is Ada. And this is me in love
with her.

"Silence!" Natalez jumped
from this stool. Soldiers began to string along the perimeter of the courtyard,
subduing those who heckled the proceedings. "You've made a mockery of this
court. Ada of Keyworth will stand trial by combat, and if you disagree with me
again,
senor,
you will be imprisoned too."

Gavriel lunged, breaking through the
distracted circle of guards to attack Natalez. His knuckles met jowls, then
ribs, then kidneys. He whirled the battered judge. With fingers pinching around
Natalez's windpipe, his other arm ready to break the man's neck, Gavriel used
him as a shield against guards who had quickly gathered their wits.

"Who bought your ruling?" he
asked near the judge's ear.

"You're mad."

"Do you fear their reprisal?"
He pinched his fingers deeper, grinding the bones together. Natalez gagged.
"Because at present, you should fear only me."

"Then kill me. I'll admit no
disgrace."

"Your behavior has been disgrace
enough."

Natalez's hulking body began to sway,
his face resuming its sickly purple shade—this time from lack of air
rather than rage. “You'll die for this," he sputtered.

"Without her, I'm already
dead."

"Guards," Natalez gasped.
"If he kills me, run the girl through. And turn the soldiers on the
crowd."

The bailiff frowned, the sword he held
ready dipping slightly.
"Senor?"

"I will be obeyed!"

When Gavriel hesitated, the lead guard
grabbed Ada. She screamed and struggled until he raised his sword to her
throat, one arm looped around beneath her ribcage. A glitter of red rubies
shone on his forefinger. The de Silva eagle.

That same shepherd.

"You are beaten," he said.
"Surrender now or there will be no second chance. For either of you."

Even Natalez seemed nonplussed by the
man's words. Ada's eyes were wide and terrified, her face an ill shade of gray.
Bright sunshine reflecting off the sword made the contrast between steel and
skin appear all the more deadly. The man wearing the de Silva signet stood
ready to end her life.

Gavriel pushed the judge away like
flinging refuse to the ground, the stink of hair grease clinging inside his
nose. The remaining guards surrounded him. Ropes burned his skin from wrist to
elbow, bound behind his back. Rough hands pulled him from the platform.

Through the confusion and the
powerlessness that followed, yanked as he was across the courtyard toward the
justice building, he tried to find Ada. A glimpse. One more look at her face.
Some assurance she would be safe.

He found none. But the idea of being
his wife had made her smile.

An hour later, Gavriel lay flat on his
back in his cell. No window. No light. Only the sound of the crowd below as
each new verdict made them shout or applaud. Perhaps they thrilled to the sight
of two men stretching from paired nooses, just as they had when Gavriel defied
the judge and Ada had affirmed their marriage—nothing more than a moment
of entertainment before the people of Toledo went about their day.

The darkness and the close space did
not affect him. He appreciated the solitude if only to find his own mind
Instances of confinement were scattered through memories of his youth, but
physical punishment had been far more common. Starvation. Exposure to the
elements. The lash. Pacheco had known exactly how to reach into Gavriel's
deepest fears and exploit them. The clarity of his motives and techniques
aligned like eyes finally working together to focus.

The darkness would have tortured Ada,
though. His stomach tensed against the knowledge that he had failed her. He
should have fought to his last breath, chancing that the hundreds of people in
the square would rally to their cause. He had seen it happen before, when mobs
determined the verdict and brought powerful men low.

But that glint of ruby had stayed his
hand. If Lord de Silva had orchestrated Ada's charade of a hearing, he would
not let a little mob justice stand in the way.

Surrender now or there will be no
second chance.

The words of the false shepherd wormed
into his brain. Was it a promise or a taunt? He could only wait and hope that
Ada was safe, at least until the following midday. But what would he do then?
He could not think of her pain without suffering himself.

A key turned in the rusty lock. Gavriel
jerked upright and scrambled to the back wall. The feeling like a cornered
beast needled his pride. Torchlight illuminated the corridor, behind a man
silhouetted in the doorway. Tall and silent, no aggression stiffened his
posture. But Gavriel's skin prickled.

"Who are you?"

The man accepted a torch from a guard,
then turned to face Gavriel. Flickering, golden light sprinkled over his face.
Too many summers spent beneath the powerful Moroccan sun had cured his skin to
a color of a roasted nut, stretched taut over pointed cheekbones. Hair a shade
lighter had been cropped close around his head and shaped into a neat beard. A
qamis
draped over his spare body, shapeless and billowing, but an ornate
wishah
circled his waist, the jewels of that double belt seeming to move in the
shifting torchlight.

"Do you recognize me,
Gavriel?"

The voice was rougher, as if scrapped
by busted stones. Different. Foreign in both accent and cadence. But Gavriel
still shivered.

"You're Joaquin de Silva."

"I am," he said, stepping
into the cell. "And it is time you finally kill King Alfonso."

Ada sat with her knees drawn to her
chest and watched the slow, steady journey of a splinter of moonlight across
the cell floor. Shivers of cold and fear passed over her skin like shadows,
hardly felt, blending into a monotony of waiting. Sleep was as impossible as it
had been the night before, a distant dream, like breathing without fear or
looking with gladness to what the next day held.

On the previous morn, she had waited
for sunrise with a sense of expectation. Faith had buoyed her hopes. Faith in
Gavriel. In herself. For all of their misguided weeks together, he had
jeopardized her heart but never her life.

She is my wife.

But no one waited to rescue her come
morning. Her debts and Gavriel's past had come together, like strong hands to
tear them apart. She would do combat and she would die. Of that she had no
doubt.

Ada had needed to be free of the opium
because it threatened to take her life, slowly, certainly, with every taste.
She had done so reluctantly, fighting first Jacob, then Gavriel, and always
fighting herself. Her freedom had been a second birth. She knew she was better
for the struggle. Better for being free.

But there was no good to be found in
losing Gavriel. He had pulled her from the darkness, held her, kissed her. She
loved him with a stubborn possessiveness that had terrified her until that
moment in the dark, caged and alone, when he was gone. Her life would end at
midday, and she would die regretting the time they had spent fighting and
resisting.

He is my husband.

And I love him.

The sound of his voice came as no
surprise, her thoughts bathed in him. Memories and regrets. But the cold air
rushing over her tears was real. The door had opened, and Gavriel found her in the
darkness before she could find her voice.

Powerful arms gathered her close, his
voice a murmur against her neck. She had sat huddled and alone, but now she
held fast to Gavriel. His strength. His scent and heat.

Real. All real.

"What are you doing here?"

"I asked to see you," he
said.

"And they consented? How?"

"Don't ask questions, Ada."

"All I have are questions,"
she said, tugging at his hair, stripping his tunic. She could not get close
enough. Only the need to kiss him remained.

Trembling fingers found his mouth in
the near-darkness, her lips quickly taking their place. Wide hands threaded
into her unbound hair and angled her head, bringing their mourns together
fully. She parted her lips and moaned as his tongue pushed inside. He tasted of
copper—blood or thirst, maybe. She kissed deeper, his primal taste more
ambrosial man any wine or spice. Just him. Only him. Blood swirled through her
ears, burned at her cheeks, and gathered low and heavy in her belly, a deep
rhythm she had only found with Gavriel.

She hugged his powerful body. Nothing
felt as strong and steadfast as he did, his long bones and wiry, dense cords of
muscle. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the ridges of flesh crisscrossing his
shoulder blades. Her wounded warrior, the man who was as much his own enemy as
she was to herself. Only together had they found a measure of quiet and sanity,
of peace and forgiveness.

He tugged at the hair he held and
tipped her head back, exposing her throat and scattering the tormenting thoughts.
He tapped tiny kisses along her jaw, across, down. She missed his mouth on
hers, but she gasped at the fiery touch of his tongue against the pulsing place
where her neck met her shoulder. He did not nip or play but sucked deeply,
marring her skin with his impatience.

"You don't believe we have much
time," she whispered.

Motionless now, his lips still touched
her skin. "No: Not much time at all."

"You said no questions, but
there's something I must ask."

He loosened his grip on her hair and
dropped his head to her shoulder. Tension made stiff branches of his limbs, his
back bowed at an exhausted angle. "Very well. Ask it."

Chapter 30

At first she could not form the words.
She said them in English in her mind, once and again, playing with the absurdity
of that moment. Their bodies wanted each other. That much was plain. But it
took another try before she could voice what she desperately needed to know.

"Why did you say that I am your
wife?"

"I thought it might change the
judge's ruling," he said. "I thought I could protect you."

"Is that all?" She pushed his
chest until he sat back. A quiet hysteria filled her lungs. She forced more
words into the air. "Is that all, Gavriel? Truly? I'm apt to die tomorrow
and would like to hear the truth from you." She reached out to cup the
side of his face, two days' worth of stubble scratching her palm. "Please,
the truth shouldn't be so difficult"

"I wish circumstances were ... no,
this is useless." He shook his head, but the fatigue she felt arching
through his body stole his vigor. "This wishing for change. Useless. A
waste. I won't burden us both. Let me hold you,
inglesa.
That I can do
for you, at least."

'Try. You were willing to do battle for
me. Try now. For me."

"I don't know how!" His
hoarse frustration bounced around the cell. She flinched and jerked her hand
away. "I don't know how to wish for what I cannot have."

"Because dreams make demands of
you." So many sleepless nights had worn holes in her emotions, but she
banked the tears that threatened. "If you want something, you must take
risks or hope or sacrifice. You take the chance of being disappointed."

The sliver of moonlight angled across
his shoulders, the resilient, smooth curves of his chest "Have you no
notion of my life? I would have gone mad years ago, wishing for freedom."

"And what of me? I didn't want to
dream because all I found were nightmares. It was easier to lose myself."
She rose on her knees and looked down at his troubled face. "Do you have a
dream, Gavriel? I should very much like to hear it"

His breath came as a slow, shuddering
exhale. "I said you were my wife because I wish it were true. I wish I
could be your husband and that we..."

"What?"

"That we could be in love."

Gently, afraid he would flinch or push
her away, she took his hands and flattened them on her hips. His fingers
tightened ever so gently. She toyed briefly with a whorl of hair behind his ear
before pulling him close, cradling him at her breast When she kissed the top of
his head, he shuddered and sighed.

"The
fleras
here in
Toledo," she whispered. "Do they permit marriages without posting the
banns? Without witnesses?"

"I know not."

"I believe the answer is
yes." She framed his face with her hands and found his eyes, two sparkling
black jewels. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes," he said softly.
"Will you be my wife, Ada?"

"Yes."

"Here? Tonight?"

She laughed, relishing the bubble of
happiness wrapped around her heart "Right at this moment But only if you
kiss me again."

He did—a quick, fierce kiss that
stole her balance. Her knees trembled. Gavriel took the weight of her body
against her own and lowered her onto the mattress beneath the window.