Turning away from them now, Hugh stalked back toward his men, one of whom brought Hugh’s gelding to the edge of the clearing. After mounting, he twisted to face them once more, calling, “We will resume this at Odiham, then. I await the moment with bated breath, so do not disappoint me.”
Then he wheeled the horse around and led his men from the glade, in the direction of the roadway that would lead them toward Hampshire and Odiham Castle.
“On the contrary, my lord,” Damien murmured, his gaze never leaving the earl’s back as he watched them go. “I would not miss it for all the gold in England.”
Alissende sat in the solar an hour later, waiting for Damien to return from conferring with the physician about the injury Seamus had sustained during the scuffle this morning. He had requested that she meet him here when he was finished, and she felt a vague sense of apprehension, wondering what he wished to discuss.
There was much that needed to be resolved, she knew—details of their upcoming journey to Odiham Castle, for one. But there was more to it than that, she was sure, and she could not help wondering if it was tied, somehow, to the mocking comments Hugh had made during their confrontation.
In her mind’s eye, she saw again the way Damien’s jaw had tightened, felt the tensing of his body next to hers, when Hugh had dredged up the painful account of her rejection of him those years ago. Sweet heaven, she would have done anything to have been able to refute it, to make Hugh swallow his taunts. But she had been forced to keep silent, because all of it was true. Every ugly insinuation Hugh had made, every awful description he had offered, had been kinder than the reality of it by a hundredfold.
Shehadturned away from Damien that day. She had rejected him publicly, leaving him to gather the tattered vestiges of his pride under the gawking stares of nearly two hundred members of King Edward’s court. It had been awful and heart-wrenching, and even now, her mind resisted the images that had been unlocked by allowing herself to think on it at all this day.
But it was necessary. She needed to remember everything again, to call up all those feelings if she was to be prepared for what she and Damien might face when they made their appearance at court next week. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head against the back of the chair and let the memories unfold, as clear and vivid as if they had happened in the past hour, instead of five years ago….
Damien had won the tournament that day, the final and most importantpas d’armesof the season. In a startling display of prowess, he had been the sole victor of more than twoscore competitors in half a dozen events, and he had thundered across the field to claim the first part of his prize—a favor from the lady he would choose to accompany him to the tournament feasting that night. The roars of the crowd had grown deafening as he’d reined his steed to a halt in front of the stands, dismounted, and approached.
He had been young, powerful, and incredibly handsome; the sun had cloaked him in golden light, as if affirming him the Archangel of court lore, and many of the ladies around her had been calling out his name. They had murmured in adoration, sighing as they’d offered him their fluttering tokens. They had been his for the taking. But he had had eyes only for her.
He had come closer, reaching out to her alone…
And it was then that she had done it.
It had been the most agonizing deed she had committed in all of her life, but she had felt as if she’d had no other choice. Even though they had planned this moment for weeks, even though they had decided together that he must win this tournament so that they might use this aspect of the prize to let the world know of their desire to be wed, she had turned away from him, acting as if she thought herself too far above him ever to consider his attentions.
The silence in the stands had been deafening. For a moment, everyone had seemed stunned. And then the whispers had begun, and she’d scrambled down from her seat, fleeing the field with the buzz of it ringing in her ears, and with the image of Damien’s devastated expression etched into her mind.
To the members of the court, the incident had been scandalously exciting. Delicious fodder for the kind of talk that could go on for years.
Her action had not been altogether frowned upon, however. For all his breathtaking skill on the field, Sir Damien de Ashby was naught but a simple knight, the second son from an impoverished family, while she was the only child of a blooded earl. None at court had known the full truth of their hidden love—nay, not even her own mother—though it had been clear to everyone that she and Damien had engaged in a dalliance, developed over the course of the season.
Still, few had blamed her for rebuffing him outright at the tournament. Many had even approved, noting that her intelligent response had saved her sire from a potentially thorny scandal, as had happened only a few weeks before when the knight’s elder brother, Sir Alexander de Ashby, had been caught trifling with Lady Margaret Newcomb, the daughter of another high-ranking nobleman.
But Alissende had suffered untold agony.
She had spoken with Damien only once after that public rejection, in her father’s arms tent an hour later, where he had found her hiding, shaking, sick to her stomach in the aftermath. He had been anguished, too, his voice cracking and his face pale and disbelieving. It had been the only time she could ever recall him showing any sign of weakness or vulnerability, other than those private times, in the moments of wild abandon that had come with the powerful force of their lovemaking.
But she had brought him to his knees that day. She had watched his heart break and felt her own tearing along with it, telling herself that she was doing the right thing. The only thing she could do, for both their sakes.
Oh, God…
She had been so foolish. So naive about life and about love.
So afraid, and so very young.
And so she had told him more awful lies to get him to leave, and when he did, she had known that she would never see him again.
It had remained thus for five long years. It would have stayed so forever had Hugh not intervened, with his greed and his grasping. But now Damien was here. He had returned, for a short time, at least, a compelling, irate, and awesome force of nature. Still so much the man she had once known, and yet a stranger to her in so many ways. His nearness tempted her and tested her resolve, at the same time that it reminded her of the danger to be had in allowing herself to love again.
Opening her eyes once more, Alissende pushed herself up from her chair and strode over to one of the solar’s leaded windows. Looking out, she tried to lock the memories back into the depths of her mind, troubled by them anew. It was done; the past could not be changed. She knew it, and yet it didn’t seem to help her in managing the disarray of her emotions.
She had suffered for her youthful folly many times over, trying to make peace with herself the best that she could. But with Damien’s return she was helpless to stop the flood of feelings that constantly barraged her. They confused her, tormented her, angered her. They gave her no rest.
She still wanted him, still felt deeply for him. But she was no longer the innocent, carefree maiden she had been when she had first loved him, any more than he was the same golden, noble knight of their youth. The intervening years had brought much that made her wish for nothing more than to be away from Damien and every man for the rest of her days, and she did not know how to reconcile her conflicting emotions. Perhaps she never would.
“See anything interesting?”
Alissende twisted at the sound of Damien’s oice, her heart seeming to skip a beat, so flustered did his presence make her, especially now, after allowing herself such intimate memories involving him.
