Scoundrel's Kiss

by Carrie Lofty

  "I would be honored to serve our king, milady," he said, the words low and intimate. "However, I will obey his summons only if his request becomes a command. My place is with you."

  Understanding slowly transformed her expression into one of placid, gentle hopefulness. "You'll stay?"

  "For as long as you require, milady."

  Dona Valdedrona inhaled deeply. Her demeanor seemed to brighten, as if his pledge had transformed her burdens into nothing more weighty than a spider's silk.

  "Now," she said, elegantly lacing her fingers in her lap, "how is Ada and her patient?"

  Jacob basked in her shimmering happiness and knew he was lost. Here I go again.

  "Her father trained her in pharmacology," he said. "Did you know that? Years ago, back in England. Now that Gavriel is recovering at last, I believe she's prescribed bed rest."

  She arched a dark brow. Her lips quirked. "Bed rest, Jacob?"

  "Yes, milady. Plenty of bed rest."

  Ada awoke from a light doze to find Gavriel's eyes open and watching her. After three weeks on the mend, she had not stopped holding her breath. Although his skin retained the taint of illness, and his cheekbones jutted from his gaunt face, his vigor continued to surprise her. The grievous stab wound no longer threatened him. Those dark, dark eyes teemed with life.

  Daylight had almost faded. Shadows alternated with deep orange streaks of sun, playing in a pattern of stripes across the bed. Beneath the woolen mantle that covered his body, Gavriel wore nothing. His long limbs would stretch from his naked torso, hard, lean, covered with dark hair. She had washed, tended, and wept over his inert body, praying as she never had for mercy. The fierce and ragged gash below his ribs had burned red, a defaced altar, and the scars on his back still had the power to bring her to tears.

  But now it was different. He was awake, healing. And he was hers. A hot, fierce need to touch and adore coiled inside her, the longing for passion and for an assurance of his health.

  They had yet to speak of their marriage vows or the future. Assuming they would both awaken in the morning still seemed dangerous. Now she had to suppress her fear once again. Her need for him was as strong and undeniable as it had ever been, all the more powerful because of the danger they had survived and the daring promises they had made. She had to know what he wanted

  Straightening in her chair, she went to push hair from her forehead. Although it was a little longer now, trimmed neatly with proper shears, the reflex to tend her missing hair remained. She glanced to Gavriel and found him smiling.

  "You'll start a new custom," he said.

  "Hardly. I'm more a cautionary tale."

  "Castilians take pride in a good scandal. It sets them apart."

  She joined him, sitting on the edge of his bed. Pain brushed up her back.

  "You shouldn't be sleeping in that chair," he said. "Not with your own injury on the mend."

  "They offered me opium. Did you know that?"

  His expression darkened. "Offered?"

  "And I refused."

  "Ada," he said quietly, his eyes full of triumph, "you did it on your own."

  A slow warmth unfurled in her chest as she took a long, deep breath. She had done it She knew temptation would always follow her, but the time for thoughtlessly heeding its call had passed. That knowledge and Gavriel's proud devotion healed the last of her dark wounds, the unseen wounds that had plagued her for so long. A future unlike any she had ever dared imagine opened before her, beckoning them both.

  "And then I called in Jacob, just to be safe," she added. "No sense in being arrogant. He about slapped the physic across the back of the head, poor man."

  Gavriel nodded, his expression still one of fierce wonder.

  Drawn to him, she brushed her fingertips over his forearms, petting the dark hair that dusted his skin. The blemish where she had sliced his arm, a lifetime ago, had faded into a slim pink scar. "How are you feeling?"

  "When will you stop asking me that?" He grinned, his teasing tone erasing any harshness. But always, always, the smile faded. No matter how bright and unexpected, he caught himself in the act and tramped it down.

  "You still don't trust it, do you?"

  He looked to the ceiling beams. "Happiness is new to me."

  "Are you happy?"

  "I will be when these stitches are gone and I can hold you again."

  "You can hold me now. Make room."

  The confusion that flashed across his face made her laugh. She pulled back the mantle and slid gingerly alongside him. Her skirts pulled and bunched in a tangle around her knees, but a few wiggles and twists later, they nestled body to body on his luxurious bed. Strong, sure arms hugged her close. Mindful of his wounds and her own, she lay with her head on his chest. Although desire pulsed within her, she simply sighed. The safety and comfort of that moment overshadowed everything else.

  "Jacob never doubted you. Did you know that? Not after he read the scrolls. He agreed with my translations and knew a diversion would bring Pacheco into the open."

  "I'm glad of that," he said, the words rumbling out of his broad chest "He's a young man whose respect is worth having."

  Thoughts of Jacob would always cause her a regretful sort of pain. He had helped save her life, and she would be forever grateful that he was her friend. She only hoped that one day he would find a worthy woman who loved him in return.

  "I know," she said quietly. "He and I... we've made our peace."

  "I'm glad of it. Truly." Gavriel kissed the top of her head. "But now, what will make you happy?"

  "Between Jacob's testimony and your heroism, you've been cleared of all suspicion, and Her Excellency has released me from my obligations. Now I only want you on the mend"

  "Is that all?"

  She mashed her lips together and made up her mind. If they had the slightest chance of beginning a life together— the dream she had never dared to believe—she had to hang onto her bravery and speak. Speak to her husband.

  Propping on one elbow, she looked down at his face. Dark eyes studied her, and the hand at her hip traced distracting circles, fingers tightening and releasing.

  "Grand Master Rodriguez arrived two weeks ago to collect Pacheco's body," she said. He tensed. "Dona Valdedrona spoke with him, along with Jacob and me. He said the Trecenezago has absolved all grievances against you with regard to Fernan. You're welcome to return to Ucles, if you wish. Or..."

  "Or?"

  She stroked the smooth skin of his upper chest, where the hair tapered to nothing and he smelled like rainwater. "The Order has newly acquired holdings abroad. They are in need of a brother to found a new parish."

  "Where?"

  Memories clamored for her attention. Green fields and endless forests. Overcast skies that made a body want to stay inside, seeking warmth and friendly company. Cold winter frosts over the endless, rolling countryside.

  And Meg. She would to go home to Meg.

  "Inglaterra," she said quietly.

  "And how do you say it?"

  "England."

  Gavriel had not been able to breathe since Ada climbed into bed with him. One thigh rested atop his, and her fingers played restless games with his sanity, aimlessly touching his chest Had it not been for his injuries and the anxious look on her face, he would have hauled her across his body and parted her legs. An image from their unconventional wedding night flashed through his mind: Ada astride him, her face tightened against the building tremors of pleasure.

  He inhaled deeply and stemmed a swift flush of need. With day fading into night, they had hours to discover each other anew. First, they would discuss the future. Their future.

  "And what of your sister?"

  She gnawed on a ragged fingernail. "'Tis time for me to go home, if you're willing to come with me. Fernan has said he and Abez would like to come as well. Too many barriers remain for them here, although I've told them England still resists foreigners."

  "How far is the journey?"

  "Week
s overland to Santander, as many again by sea, then again overland to the Midlands."

  "That's an intimidating amount of time to spend with Fernan."

  "You're teasing me."

  "Yes," he said, freeing his smile.

  She laughed, the sound of magic and promises. Every fleck of darkness he had once seen clouding her eyes had vanished. That she loved him left him humbled and looking for reasons why they could not be together. But none remained.

  He searched his own heart, his own soul and felt nothing but breath and life. He thought of his father, dead now, and awaited a return of his old terror and rage. Already it was fading, releasing him a little more each day. He could be free. Dizziness that had nothing to do with wounds or hunger or desire stole over him, leaving him humbled. He took a deep breath before finding her eyes again—two blue pools, hopeful and expectant

  "The journey will be long and uncertain, I admit," she said. "But it will be simple and restful compared to clearing the air with Meg. Meg and Will, both."

  "I've never traveled so far."

  Ada smiled and fingered a whorl of hair on his chest "We've done a great deal we've never tried before. Why stop now?"

  She slipped a hand beneath the mantle and found the ticklish spot along his ribs. Laughter and pain simmered together. He snatched her hands, ready to beg for mercy if he needed to. She stopped her soft torture to lean nearer and kiss the corner of his mouth, light and possessive at once. Gavriel slumped into the mattress. Giddiness made the room spin.

  "England," he said. The spoken word in Ada's native language felt strange on his tongue. Heavy. Thorny. How did she manage?

  "Yes, England."

  "That damp little island?" At her crestfallen look, he smiled again. "My Ada, we'll have to take this in steps. I know little about smiling, which leaves you ill equipped for my teasing."

  Her expression brightened. "You never were a novice. You were a scoundrel in disguise."

  "I'm trying." He sobered, cupping her cheek. "But I was also hoping you'd think of me as a good man. One day."

  "One day? How about when you rescued a sick woman from herself, or the day you nearly sacrificed your life to save the king?"

  "Nearly," he said with a sharp laugh. "You and your potions were worse than the blade's cut. I knew you were una bruja

  "I insist, my sister is the witch."

  "I'll have to decide for myself."

  "Does that mean we can go?"

  "Anywhere, Ada. Anywhere with you."

  He closed his eyes as she peppered his face with kisses. Catching the back of her head, he pulled her into a deep, slow, lingering kiss. All sweetness and heat, she tasted of oranges. Gavriel drank her in. His body tensed, his shaft rigid. He had wanted her for too many nights. Their moments of indulgence had been few, snatched out of terror and fear.

  But this was a kiss of celebration. His soul spun with hers in a potent vow.

  The thought of vows stopped him.

  "Mi inglesa, I haven't been the man I want to be. My failures are many. I don't trust myself and I don't know why you trust me."

  "I love you," she said quietly. "Never once have you failed me. No one—not even you, stubborn man—can convince me that you ever will."

  "I don't deserve you."

  "If you make a saint out of me, you're forgetting how we met and what a trial I was." She outlined his mouth with her forefinger before kissing him, slowly, just lip to lip. "Besides, you already vowed to be my husband. Will you go back on that promise?"

  "Never"

  The ferocity of his reply startled him. But then, his promises had always been easy where Ada was concerned. Only when he denied their love did he find himself at a loss. Wholly lost

  "We're bound as husband and wife " he whispered. "I love you."

  "Do you swear it?"

  Although she asked the question, she looked at peace. She knew the answer as well as he did. Gavriel smiled and allowed that same peace claim him, easing his soul.

  "I do, Ada. I do."