“Because I do not think I am suited for life at the cloister. I like parties, and pretty things, and good food and entertainment. I have only been devout to the religion because mother and father have forced me to be rigid in my practice,” she sat up, wiping her cheeks and looking him in the eye. “I do not want to wear gray wool and wimples for the rest of my life. I want to be married, to know the security of a home and family. Richmond, I want to live.”
He gazed at her a moment, the woman he loved. Absently, a gloved hand came up to touch her hair. “Your entire life is before you and you want to sample all it has to offer.”
“Exactly,” she said firmly, tears forgotten. “I am eighteen years today, old enough to go to court, or be married, or anything else that young women do. Why should I be deprived of my life simply because my parents saw fit to make me a sacrificial lamb by devoting my life to God? I never had a choice and it was unfair of them not to consider my feelings.”
He smiled vaguely, toying with a tendril of raven-hued hair. “’Tis not usual that one is given a choice in one’s destiny. Furthermore, ’tis not usual to consider the feelings of a newborn child when deciding his, or her, future.”
She pursed her lips wryly. “You are not helping me. I do not want to obey my father’s wishes and you make jokes.”
His grip on her hair tightened as she tried to move away from him. “I am not jesting, simply stating a fact.”
She met his gaze, trying to ignore the rising heat between them by focusing on her concerns. “Will you talk to my father, Richmond? Tell him that I do not wish to join the church.”
He sighed, knowing that her betrothal to the church was nearly as binding as a marriage. Furthermore, Henry himself had made it. The only person who would have a remote chanceof dissolving it would be, clearly, Henry. And the chances of that happening were close to impossible.
“Riss, it’s not that simple,” he said after a moment. “You have known since you were old enough to understand that your destiny was to become a nun. This is the first time I have heard you speak negatively on the subject.”
She shrugged, looking away from him. “‘Tis only because I have realized that I want a voice in my destiny. Why must my father decide it for me? I have never truly been excited about joining the cloister, merely resigned to the fact. Resignation has kept me silent for eighteen years.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “But no longer, I see.”
She shook her head. “No longer. I do not want to go. If father won’t consider dissolving the contract, then I shall…. I shall run away.”
“Do not talk like that. You couldn’t run far enough away from me that I could not find you.”
She slanted him a long glance. “You would follow me anywhere?”
He gave her a half-smile. “I am my lady’s shadow.”
She stared at him a moment, observing his well-shaped, masculine features. The grin on her lips matched his own. “What are you going to do when I am forced to enter the convent? Are you planning on lurking about the halls, shadowing me as I prepare for Vespers?”
He pretended to think on the matter. “I look rather good in a nun’s habit. Do you think they would suspect?”
She shook her head immediately. “Never. Who would suspect anything peculiar about a six foot nun?”
“I am well over six feet.”
Her smiled broadened. “I know. You have told me. Six feet and five inches. You are well over a foot taller than I am.”
“Sixteen inches, to be exact. But everyone is taller than you.”
“And everyone is younger than you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You are an impudent, disagreeable wench. Beware, or next time I will refuse to save you from Tad de Rydal.”
She sighed, her light mood fading as she returned to picking her nails. “I would marry him if it meant dissolving my contract with the church. I would rather suffer a lifetime of arrogance than a lifetime of unhappiness.”
He grasped her fumbling hands, so tightly that she nearly winced. “You shall not marry Tad de Rydal. Is that clear?”
Her puzzled gaze met his darkened blue eyes. “I…. I meant it figuratively, Richmond. As you said, I have no choice in the matter. I must join the cloister whether I want to or not.”
His grip relaxed. The heat she had been trying to ignore had increased in strength, growing, enveloping her. No longer able to ignore it, she tried her best to control the power. Mayhap if she disregarding the quivering, it would go away.
But the searing heat refused to fade. If anything, it was growing stronger. When Richmond’s gloved hands began to gently caress her fingers, the painful ache his touch provoked bolted the length of her arms.
Richmond felt the heat, too. It was difficult not to. Heat generated by his intense emotions for the woman who was his charge, a princess unaware. A woman he was too weak to fight his feelings for. In faith, he was not entirely sure he wanted to do battle with his emotions any longer. It would be far simpler and far more destructive simply to give in to all of it.
But to give in to his emotions would mean destroying Arissa in the process. How could he force himself upon her, a man she had grown up knowing as a faithful friend? How could he damage the trust between them, the companionship simply because he had been weak enough to fall in love with her? It washis own flaw, a flaw he would not thrust upon her because he was unwilling to do her even the slightest amount of harm.
