“Sir William,” she said as she began to push off him. He held her with just enough strength to keep her there.
“William,” he corrected her.
“I should go,” she said. Her moments of self-pity passed, she knew she would be missed. But these next words stopped her from moving and nearly from breathing.
“I understand how you feel, Brienne,” William whispered. “I, too, am a bastard.” The puzzlement made her brows furrow as she thought on his words.
William had never willingly admitted it before. Those who knew did not hear it from him unless there was a dire need. The men in his hillside camp who would face the coming danger with him. Roger and Gautier. And that was the end of the list of those to whom he had disclosed his shame.
And now this young woman before him.
“My mother’s husband was bought for her to cover the truth. She went to him already months into carrying me. It did not take long for the rumors and insults to begin in my life.”
“But you are a de Brus,” she said. “Part of a noble family. Raised as a nobleman’s son. Claimed by him.”
“You were raised by the blacksmith as his daughter. Now claimed as a nobleman’s,” he offered.
“That is not the same,” she began. He shook his head and touched his finger to her lips. Her eyes, the color of the amber seen during sunset, widened at his touch.
“Nay, ’tis not the same. You were raised by a mother and father who wanted you. Raised with love and pride. Now your true father claims you and raises you to the position you should have as his.” He could not keep the bitterness from his voice. His intention to ease her shame was quickly becoming something else.
“So,” he said, pushing to his feet and allowing her to slide to hers, “that is my sad story. But the wisdom I would offer you,chérie, is to decide now, now that your life has changed because of your past. Decide who you are and stay true to it. For many others will try to determine that for you, whether you are called the blacksmith’s daughter or Lord Hugh’s get.”
He could not resist her soft mouth, which beckoned to him. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers and felt her sigh escape. He pressed and she opened to him, as though made for him and only him. This kiss was not to possess her or to claim her. He tasted her deeply.
When she arched up against him, pressing her lithesome body against the ridge of his already-hardened flesh, his desire slipped his hold and he kissed her as he wanted to. As he had in the forest. But the lesson to be learned this day would be his, for beneath the desire in this kiss lay her shame. Easing back from her, he stroked her cheek and then released her.
“I must go,” she said. His body jolted when she slid the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. But he wanted only to ease her pain and not begin something he, and he suspected she, would not want to stop.
“Here.” He handed her the kerchief he found on the ground next to her. “Go that way, for now that the rains have stopped, men will be heading to the training yard.”
She turned and took a step before facing him once more.
“William,” she whispered as though the feel of his name on her tongue was sweet. “Do you know who your father is?”
He stared away then, looking at the old ruins and the sky behind them. The words he’d offered her as advice came back at him, mocking him for his self-righteousness. After telling her that all that mattered was who you decided to be, William smiled at the irony of his plight and his quest.
“Aye, I do, Brienne.”
“And he knows of your birth?”
“Aye, he does.”
“And he has not claimed you? I do not understand.”
“Worry not over my father, Brienne. I am making my own way, just as you will.” He glanced over his shoulder as the sound of people approaching grew louder.
“My thanks for your kindness today,” she whispered. Lifting up to her toes, she kissed the edge of his jaw before dashing off around the corner of the building. Leaving him unmanned more completely than he’d felt since he was a young squire seeking his first feminine conquest and failing.
He waited until he did not hear her steps fading away before stepping from the sheltered corner. Eudes began shouting orders for his men to gather and, when he saw William there, he nodded to him. Roger, Gautier, and Armand had followed as he’d told them to, and the four walked to the training yard.
The rains had turned it into a muddy mess, but battles were often fought on ground just like that. What began as dry earth could turn into a bog of mud, blood, and mess as men fell and bled their lives out onto it. Therefore, it made sense to train in just such conditions. As he climbed the fence, taking off his tunic as the others had, he watched Eudes choose his best and line up facing them.
Something tilted in his vision as the lines formed against each other, a sense—nay, the knowledge—that this would happen very soon and the intent then would be violent death and not civil practice.
The call came justafter she closed the door to her chambers, pleased that no one had seen her sneaking back into it. Her body trembled from the pleasure of his kiss, and her heart was lighter—not for knowing that he was a bastard, but for the kindness and comfort William showed her. She dipped the kerchief in the now-cooled water to wash her face and hands and found herself on her knees, gasping against the blinding pain.
Come to me now. Now.
