“Good.” Directing his gaze around the assembled courtiers and combatants, the king called out loudly enough for one and all to hear, “Our proclamation, then, is this: You, Hugh de Valles, Earl of Harwick, and you, Sir Damien de Ashby, will meet on the lists at Guildford Castle in Surrey one fortnight from today, to duel under the watchful eyes of Our royal judges. The combat will be for the purpose of honor and the right to claim the gold and gemmy sparrow-hawk that was to be the prize for this, the first tournament of the season. The joust will be with sword, axe, and dagger, and will conclude in two rounds of each. Do you accept the terms?”
The ice in his gaze as he stared at them both made clear that their answer had better come swiftly and be in the affirmative. It did, and it was.
“We are relieved,” he drawled. “Should either of you fail to appear at the appointed time, you will be deemed to have forfeited the combat and with it, all honor and prizes.” He pursed his lips, saying more quietly, for them alone, “If you believe you can maintain control of yourselves, you may attend the closing feast We are hosting this eve. If not, then We suggest you take your meal elsewhere, to avoid spending the next fourteen days manacled and tucked away somewhere suitably dark, unpleasant, and away from Our sight.”
After letting that bit of advice sink in for a moment, the king raised his hands and addressed the crowd again. “This combat is finished until a fortnight hence. You may all depart to prepare for the eve’s festivities.”
With the sounding of trumpets, a flurry of servants, and the flick of his royal robes, the king reached out his hand to the queen and escorted her from the silk pavilion and the tournament area altogether.
And then it fell quiet.
The guards still held onto Hugh and Damien, and the crowd seemed reluctant to disperse when some excitement might still be had. But Damien had had enough. He had proven his point with Hugh and made clear to all, noble or common, that he was not a man to be trifled with. Alissende would not need to fear that any knight or lord would mistake the kind of protection she would know with him as her husband. But Hugh’s scheming had deprived Damien of one aspect of this day’s combat that he had hoped to gain…one last moment that he had intended to take to dispel some of the nightmares that troubled him and Alissende still.
There was naught in the king’s command to stop him from enjoying it now.
After a few murmured words to the guards, who promptly released him, Damien strode back toward the end of the lists, where Reginald, Bernard, and Thomas waited, taking from Bernard the lance he had used for the entrance ceremony—the one with Alissende’s violet-blue ribbon attached. Carefully plucking the strip of silk free, he held it clasped in his palm and turned back toward the field. As if in benediction of his plan, the sun broke through the clouds once more at that instant, bathing him in golden light as he faced the scaffolding full of spectators.
Then Damien lifted his face to meet Alissende’s gaze among all those who stood there, and giving her a slow, sensual smile, he began to cross the distance between them with determined strides.
Alissende watched Damien’s approach, her entire body going hot and cold at the same time, tingles spreading from the top of her head down to her toes.What was this about?…
Heaven help her, but he looked exactly as he had on that day long ago, when he had won the tournament and come striding forth to claim her favor as his prize. And astoundingly, the people around her right now were reacting just as they had then; the men initiated the applause of stamping on the scaffold, while the women murmured at the magnificent sight of him striding across the field toward her.
But as before, he had eyes only for her. He was coming to exchange the token she had given him for a kiss, by his action showing everyone that he favored her above all other women. The import of that insight startled her, but on the heels of it came another equally staggering realization.
There was no reason for him to be doing this right now.
Even for the sake of appearances in their feigned union, it made no sense. In the eyes of those who had judged the tournament, he had not actually won, and there was no expectation that he—or Hugh, for that matter—would make claim to any lady in attendance, as the declared champion traditionally would.
Unless he was approaching her like this simply because hewantedto.
By all the saints…
“My lady.”
Alissende almost jumped. Damien’s voice echoed close to her, both affectionate and persistent, and she realized that he had attained her position on the raised scaffolding. He stood just below her on the ground of the lists, reaching up to her, her ribbon fluttering in his grip.
“This is yours, lady, returned in all honor.” The hint of a shadow flickered through his eyes just before he added, “For the price of a kiss, and your acceptance of my devotion this day.”
Her heart seemed to beat harder in her chest, and her throat tightened. Oh, God, this was the very moment when she had turned away from him five years ago. The moment that had haunted her for every day, every breath, it seemed, ever since. Her gaze locked with Damien’s, and she felt the enormity of it all washing over her. He was offering her another chance, placing his pride in her hands once more, to do with as she would.
This time, she vowed, she would not fail him.
Her lips trembled as she tried to return his gentle smile. Leaning forward, she reached to take the silk ribbon from him with fingers that seemed to have gone numb, though she felt a jolt of delicious sensation in the instant that his hand brushed against hers.
But before she could straighten up again, he caught her chin, and her own eyes widened to realize that the ice blue of his had deepened to sapphire.
“Not so quickly, lady. You have forgotten something.”
“What?” she murmured.
“My kiss.”
He drew her closer to him with the gentle pressure of his touch, taking her lips with such tender passion that she thought her knees might buckle beneath her. In blind panic, she reached out to clutch his shoulders, and the unexpected approval of the crowd grew louder as he lifted her at the waist, clearing the scaffolding with her to set her down beside him. When she looked up at him after righting herself, another shock coursed through her at the intensity she saw in his gaze.
“Now we’ve one last bit to cover,” he said quietly. “Do you accept my devotion, Alissende?”
His eyes were fixed upon her, loving her with a look, if such was possible, and a very pleasurable shiver coursed through her. But she needed to keep her head; Damien had performed convincingly for audiences in the past with public kisses and shows of affection.
