Ben snapped his gaze to him in a movement that was suspiciously agile for one who was supposed to be suffering stiff limbs and neck. “I have my wits about me as strongly as ever, Damien; that you know. However, after watching you these past days, I would hazard a guess that you cannot say the same about yourself,hmm?”
Unable to refute the jab, Damien held motionless for a moment, mulling it over. Coming to no satisfying conclusion, he breathed in deeply, and when he exhaled, he tipped his face to look at the floor as he clasped his hands together loosely, still balancing his forearms along his thighs.
“I cannot love Alissende, or any woman for that matter, Ben,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. “What I am feeling for her is something much less noble, I am sure.”
“What in heaven’s name makes you believethat?”
“The awareness that I am no longer capable of the softer emotion that love requires.”
Ben didn’t answer right away, though from the edge of his vision, Damien saw him nodding in thoughtful reverie, as if weighing what he’d heard. At last Ben said, “Aye, perhaps you are right…”
His voice trailed off as if judiciousness had stopped him before he’d finished with what he wanted to say.
This was no time for discretion, Damien decided.
Looking at Ben again, he demanded, “But?…”
“But if you are right,” Ben finished, after flicking his gaze to Damien in confirmation that he wished him to continue, “then I would warrant what is ruining your peacefulness this day are the pangs of your conscience, telling you that you ought not to be dallying with Lady Alissende as you have been if you do not intend to follow through in all honor.”
Damien flinched. Ah, that smarted. Yet it was the truth, like it or not. He’d done his best not to think too deeply or too long about the inevitable day in a few months when he would need to leave Alissende for the last time—not only because he knew it wouldn’t be honorable to undertake a dalliance with her in the meantime but also because he realized more and more with every hour that passed how painful that break would be to him. It couldn’t be helped, but that wasn’t going to make the moment any easier. Sighing again, he sat up so that his back was flush against the pew once more.
“I have one last bit of advice, my friend,” Ben said quietly.
“What is it?” Damien asked, through the unaccountable misery that was swelling within him at the thought of what he was going to have to do from now on; at the knowledge that he must cease without compunction all the teasing and pleasurable dalliances he had been enjoying with Alissende.
“It is this,” Ben said, so seriously that it drew Damien’s gaze to him again. “If you find yourself unable to continue resisting Lady Alissende’s charms, then you must consider the possibility that there is something nobler than lust driving you into her arms. Lust may be eased with any available female—and conversely, a man may control base desire with his will, if he so chooses. You know this well, having served as a Templar Knight. But it is not so with love.”
That made Damien pause. The hope of it slipped in, testing the waters of desolation within him, only to come up against the same barrier of darkness as always. He felt his mouth twist with bitterness. “What you are saying has merit, friend, there is no doubt, but it does not apply to me. Heaven help me, for I wish it could be true, but it isn’t.”
Damien gritted his teeth in determination, combating the seductive voice inside him that tempted otherwise, calling upon every ounce of his strength to follow through with what he knew would need to be done.
Ben went silent again, and Damien sensed that his friend had shifted his thoughts to something else, something no less serious. In the next breath Damien discovered what it was.
“You know, heavenwillhelp you with such dilemmas, if you will only ask,” Ben offered gently, and Damien felt that strange punching sensation in his gut, realizing not only that he had indeed called upon heaven a moment ago out of long-standing habit but also that it still ached so much to remember that such solace was not his to claim any more.
“God hears all, Damien,” Ben continued. “And He welcomes home any who seek entry, forgiving all sins and sinners—even those who turned away from Him out of grief or anger.”
The aching stabbed too deep for Damien to speak at first, and so he simply pushed himself up from the pew, tamping down the hurt by force of sheer will, trying to assuage his ever-present longing for the very comfort Ben was advocating.
“God may forgive me, Ben, when and if I find means to ask Him for it,” Damien said at last, his voice husky. “But first I must forgive myself—for many things. And I do not see that happening anytime soon.”
Forcing himself to pull off a smile of sorts, he reached out and clasped Ben’s hand, trying not to dwell on the troubled look in his friend’s eyes, and grateful for the bond they shared in a way that went deeper than words. “Thank you for your counsel this day, Ben,” he murmured. “All will be right in time, you will see.”
At Ben’s silent nod, Damien turned to go, making his way down the center aisle, toward the double doors at the back. But as he stepped through them, he thought he heard Ben say, “I pray it will, Damien. Aye, for your sake, as well as the Lady Alissende’s, I pray it will.”
Chapter 10
Damien was as ready as he was ever going to be. He stood in the portion of the yard designated for training, eyeing the small refreshment table he’d ordered set in the shade near the castle wall. For each of the past four days, he’d asked the kitchen servants to provide a light repast to be consumed during the brief respites he and Alissende took from the rigors of her instruction.
However, the sad truth was that most of the food they had set out in previous days had been left untouched, because he had been too eager to use his time with Alissende in more entertaining pursuits. He’d decided that he’d much rather practice the positions and holds of her defense instruction, since they had allowed him to take the sweet liberties that had brought him to the desperate state he suffered now.
But today, he promised himself, theywouldtake numerous rests—positioned at opposite sides of the table—eating and drinking until the bounty here was depleted.
Aye, he would maintain his control in this today, he vowed, even if it killed him. Ever since he’d left the chapel, he had forced himself to play out in his mind as many possible scenarios as he could bear to imagine, and all the tripping points along the way that were likely to make him forget his oath to behave properly with Alissende. He’d even come as close to praying as he’d ever managed to since his months of desperation with the Inquisition.
All that remained now was to see if he was up to the task of resisting what his own instincts demanded that he do with her, whenever she was near. To find out if he could bear the temptation of having her so close…captive in his arms…with his hands on her body…with her knee-weakening fragrance invading his senses with such seductive power…
Sweet mercy.
