“I’ll remember this injustice!” Rennio warned, but Gerhard knew that he wouldn’t. This was not the first time he had been kept out of the pavilion, and neither Gerhard nor Rennio were strangers to sleeping on the ground without anything to keep them warm. A fur, a warm fire, and a jug of ale would suit all his needs, and he could get that anywhere. “I’m not a dog you can order about!” he cried, but then he wandered off grumbling and scratching himself.
When Gerhard came inside he was treated to a vision, for Susanna was untying her lace veil, which had become askew during her spanking. He watched her, wordlessly, as she fixed her hair, black and beautiful. “Take down your hair,” he asked her, his throat feeling dry.
She looked up, her eyes round and her cheeks flushing. “Pardon?”
“I want to see your hair,” he repeated. Part of him wanted to cringe at his boldness, and beat around the bush for months or years in a long courtship, but he didn’t have that sort of time, and he didn’t live that sort of life.
Her brows flickered a little before she dropped her shoulders and asked, “Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful,” he replied, stepping forward, feeling nearly like he had fallen into a trance. “And because I’ve been dreaming of you with your hair down.”
He froze; he might have gone too far with that one.
She was still, like a deer being hunted in the wood, and he was certain that he had frightened her, put her guard up.
Instead, a smile broke out across her face. It was the warmest smile he had seen in an age, accompanied by white teeth and twinkling eyes. Her tear-stained cheeks was suddenly the only trace left that she had ever been crying at all. “You are too bold, sir,” she told him in a chuckle, then tisked. “What about my hair is so important?”
Her smile was contagious, and he continued to step toward her. “It’s dark as river stone, and it makes your skin look so pale, like porcelain.” He stood close enough to her to feel the heat coming off her body. He reached out, and she flinched her face away, though not much, not enough. She allowed him to touch the pads of his fingers to the side of her cheek. It was so soft, so warm, and after a moment she pressed her face into his hand like a kitten might, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“You are a horrible enemy,” she told him in a dreamlike mutter.
“We’re not enemies tonight,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Live in this world with me, Susanna. Let me undo your hair and take care of you for one evening, I beg you.” And he was begging. He wasn’t sure if he could stop if she asked him to, but somehow he knew she wouldn’t.
He noticed her shoulders tense, and her eyes fluttered as if just waking. He reached for her crispinette, which hid her braids with enlaced pearls. He unpinned her hair and the crispinette came free. Her braid seemed to explode from its confines and draped through his fingers as long, black curls.
“My mother would have never permitted me to wear my hair down,” she said quietly, though with humor in her tone.
“Why not?” he asked, stroking his fingers through her hair, savoring the silky softness of it and the way it smelt like flowers.
“She thought my hair was wild,” she told him.
“What a crime,” he said, pulling off her other crispinette and tossing it before her on the table. “You have the hair of a goddess, Susanna.”
“You shouldn’t call me that,” she told him, with a sharpness from sudden unease. “You shouldn’t use my Christian name like we’re familiar.”
He combed his fingers through her hair, slowly looping the thickness around his fist. He pulled her head back, firmly but not harshly, and she made a little gasp as her eyes trained themselves upon him. Her expression was proud, but it was also excited.
“I will be familiar with you, Susanna,” he told her, his voice a rasp. He wanted her so badly. He wanted those pink, rose petal lips.
“I don’t know you,” she panted.
“Have you ever been kissed before?” he asked her, easing his grip on her hair.
She pressed her lips together but then shook her head ever so slightly. “No,” she replied in just a breath.
“Then you’ll remember me as the first man to do this.” He let go of her hair and gripped her face with both hands, lacing his fingers behind her neck. He had sacked cities and beheaded dukes, spoken his mind in front of the emperor more times than he could count, but he had never felt bolder than he did in this very moment.
He kissed her, pressing his lips hard and hungrily against hers and tasting her mouth deeply. He had nearly forgotten what fear felt like, but now he felt it brewing in his stomach. He didn’t want her to be leery of him. He just wanted her to let go of everything, of her kingdom, of her old life, and just be joined with him. He had fantasized about this moment for ages—the moment where a princess could make love with a man such as him without cringing. He wanted her to just kiss him back.
But she wouldn’t. Deep as his kiss was, it was one-sided.
He stopped kissing her and just held her face in his hands. The prettiest, sweetest, and most innocent face he had ever seen. Far too innocent for the lady of a great castle to have. Her uncle had at least done this much—by ruling her kingdom, he had also kept her out of the politics. There was no world-weary hardness to her. Maybe that’s what captivated him… or maybe it was those light blue eyes. “Beautiful,” he said, petting her cheeks with his thumbs.
“You shouldn’t…” she swallowed. “You shouldn’t kiss me.”
“Why?” he asked her, still gazing at her and stroking her cheeks. She still hadn’t pushed him away or cried out, and until she did, he wouldn’t move.
“Because… Because you’re not my husband, nor my betrothed…” she replied unsurely, quietly, and then her eyes closed sleepily, like a cat’s.
