If it came to it, she doubted she could kill the man, even to save what was left of her life.But what if I have no other choice?
God help me.
Her thoughts plagued her so completely that Gaspar was standing inside the open cell before she heard a hint of his coming up the stairs. A glance at the floor revealed why; his feet were bare. Bare also were his arms. He wore no tunic, and there were no sleeves tied to his under tunic. His arms were thick with muscle and vein and she was sorely tempted to slide her hands along them.
In anticipation of walking on the beach, she’d removed her own boots and hose, then she’d tied the hose around her thigh so she could keep her skean duh close. The plaid would be a hindrance if she had to swim. She would leave it behind.
“I promised you a walk along the beach, my lady.”
She looked up into the shadows of his face. He appeared a bit ill, as he had each time he’d come to the tower that day. And he acted oddly, as if something between them had changed, something more than just his acquiescence to allow her outside.
He tilted his head to one side. “You have not changed your mind.”
She jumped to her feet in answer and his breath caught. They hadn’t stood so close or touched each other since they’d kissed. But this time, they were alone on the island. Icarus would not come to interrupt them if Gaspar took her in his arms now. Shewas ashamed to want him to do just that, but she wanted to leave that tower even more.
The air warmed between them. Sweat trickled from her hair, down her neck, and pooled in the notch below her chin. His gaze followed the moisture’s progress. She sensed him itching to reach out and touch where it gathered at her throat. It was possibly his last chance for a tender touch.
But it was her last chance as well, her last chance to touch him.
Her left hand lifted and her fingers tangled with his as he reached toward her at the same time. Suddenly shy, she pulled back.
“Come,” he croaked, then took her firmly by the hand and walked backward, toward the open gate. “You must not release my hand. Is that clear?”
Speech was beyond her ability at the moment, so she nodded. He need never know how she was torn between obeying and disobeying that order. If they had met under simpler circumstances, she might have never let loose of his hand whether he wished it or not.
Her footsteps faltered, tripping over her thoughts. How long had it been since she’d come through that doorway, or glimpsed those stairs? He made certain she was steady, then turned and led her, holding her hand behind his back so that she, too, could walk close to the outer wall.
A torch hung next to the landing. Another one waited beyond the curve in the stairway, luring her with its promised light. But she needed no luring. She held tight to Gaspar’s tugging fingers as he unwittingly led her to freedom.
They passed the second torch. Another beckoned. The excitement tempted her to giggle. The thought of leaving Gaspar behind, forever, tempted her to weep. She resisted both.
The last torch. The bottom step. The solid floor. The open archway led to the heavy warm night beyond.
He paused before the threshold and she worried he might have only been teasing her, to teach a lesson in patience. To teach her not to trust in the arm of man—any man, including him. Perhaps he would say it was time for prayers and haul her back up the stairs because itwastime for prayers, and he might insist that prayers were more important than the promise of a walk along the shore.
But he didn’t turn back—he simply removed the last torch and led her outside.
Outside!Heaven help her, she would never walk inside again. She would find a tree on a beach somewhere and make her home of it. Never again would a door close, a gate close, or a tomb seal behind her.Never, ever again!
Gaspar slowed, then stopped, pulling her next to him, their fingers entwined like lovers, their shoulders bumping until she stilled.
“Look.” He looked skyward. His torch swept up and over their heads in an arc, then hung low, out of the way so the stars could be seen. “The unimpeded sky.”
She drank in the utter glory of the lit heavens, but found she was thirstier for another sight entirely—Gaspar, standing with arms uncovered, as unfettered as the night sky. Just a man standing next to her, holding her hand as if he could not bear to let her go.
A flood of tears blurred her vision of him, and she looked away before he could catch her staring.
It was her turn to tug him along. She knew just where she wished to go—the little pool of water visible from her window, where she’d wished she could have dipped her hot and dusty toes. Gaspar followed along.
The pool was larger than she’d expected. The rocks at the edge were wide enough to sit upon and keep her skirts from getting wet. But what did wet skirts matter?
Gaspar sat beside her so they had no need to let go of each other’s fingers while they dipped their feet.
“My favorite spot,” he confessed.
“Truly? Then why is it I’ve never seen ye here?”
“I’ve stayed away, knowing you were watching, not wishing to disrupt what peace you found.”
