“Anything. Why? What have you done that’s so unforgivable?” She’d asked with a teasing tone, but his silence told her he had been serious. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me. But the answer is yes.”
“I ask because it sounds so impossible. I find it hard to believe He could love me, much less forgive me.”
“But He does. He loved you enough to die for you. He said, ‘I make all things new.’Are you so full of pride you think He meant everything except you?”
“I never thought of it like that before.”
“There’s nothing He wants more than for you to reach out to Him,” she whispered. “He’s waiting for you. With outstretched arms.”
He sat as if thinking about her words. She wasn’t sure if she should say something else or if she had already said too much. “Lukas?”
“Goodnight, Alexia.”
Not long thereafter, she found herself counting ceiling beams once again.
Chapter Twelve
Lexy took Lukas’s arm as they entered the main hall of Lord Weston’s impressive home the next evening. “Tell me again why we’re here,” she whispered as Lukas raised a hand in greeting to a passerby. Dinner was over, which left only the entertainment to endure.
She met more people than she could ever hope to keep straight, but the evening had been less stressful than she’d anticipated. Lukas and his rotten attitude held honors as the evening’s one downside. His cold and withdrawn presence refused to melt under the warm smiles of their fellow guests.
“Because you are the recently returned and recently married Princess of Dresdonia,” he replied. “Although these are not your people, they do have a marked interest in seeing you return Dresdonia to rights. They are also interested in seeing you and mayhap me.”
She matched his flat tone. “In that case, you may want to try cracking a smile. It’s not as though you particularly exude marital happiness.”
“Forgive me, my lady, but it is rather difficult to ‘exude marital happiness’ as you so eloquently stated, when one is, in fact, married in name only and sleeping on the floor.” His expressionless gaze shifted behind her to the crowd following.
They stood waiting while the other guests made their way into the hall. She would have to be blind not to see the way her husband drew appreciative glances from some of the women. All the attention was lost on him, however, judging by the stiff way he stood looking over the top of their heads.
“I’ll remind you the circumstances of our marriage are what they are by your own doing.” She raised her voice, but took care only Lukas heard. “Had I known you would throw it in my face every time you had a chance, I might have protested more.”
“And if I had it to do again, I might not have been as hasty in its suggestion!” His eyes burned into hers, but she refused to look away even as she felt her face flush.
“It’s too late now, though, isn’t it? You gave your word and if nothing else, I know you as a man of honor.” She swallowed, resisting the urge to fan herself.
A look of what appeared to be anger flashed through his eyes briefly, but it fled so fast, she thought she’d imagined it. His face regained his usual composure when he spoke again. “Stop trying to bait me, I am not in a mood to be trifled with.”
“Of course not. How silly of me to try to get a response out of you.” She wanted the burning look back, preferring it to the cool indifference meeting her.
“I warned you, Alexia!”
Finally some emotion flickered in his expression. She pushed again. “Have you? Imagine that. At least now you’re starting to sound more like the Lukas I first met instead of the half-dead imposter you’ve become since Hadden House!”
One minute he stood beside her and the next he’d pulled her into a hidden alcove a few steps behind them. She blinked and found herself against a wall with Lukas towering over her. He rested his hands above her head, his lower body trapping her as he looked directly in her eyes.
“Half-dead?” His voice came in a ragged whisper, inches from her face. “You think me half-dead?”
Oh, no.
His lips claimed hers with a barely controlled power. She tried to pull back, but one of his hands moved to cup the back of her head and drew her closer. He deepened the kiss, and she tasted the faint, sweet tang of the cranberries served for dessert. She should stop him or step on his foot, but something about him felt right, and something in her answered his urgency. Trembling, she ran her hands up his back and rejoiced at his shuddered response.
Oh, yes.
Suddenly, he drew back, and at once she recognized the old Lukas. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, face going blank.
“Forgive me, my lady. I seem to have forgotten myself.” He held out his arm. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the galley?”
Dumbfounded, she took his arm and walked out to the galley on legs so weak, she marveled they held her up.
****
He should not have kissed her.
He could kick himself. She had pushed him and taunted him by calling him half-dead, but that was not a reason to force her into a kiss. It would be best if he tried not to think about how right it felt to hold her or the way she responded, body trembling, as she put her arms around him. It had been wrong. He closed his eyes and willed his heart to cease its galloping beat.
No, he should not have kissed her. But truly, he was not sorry at all.
****
The hall was even more crowded when they made their way back. And hotter. At least it felt hotter. Maybe it was just the kiss.
Forcing her mind away from the hulk of a man at her side, she glanced around the room. Everyone stood waiting, some looking at her with curious glances. She wondered if they could tell what she’d been doing moments ago.
Lord Weston approached them, a large smile covering his face. “Princess Lexy. Prince Lukas. We are ready to start dancing, and it has been proposed the two of you lead us off.”
Dancing. Well, that was better than everyone knowing just how much her husband’s kiss affected her. They could get out of dancing with a simple, “No thanks.”
“We would be honored, Lord Weston,” Lukas responded.
“Idiot,” she snapped as their host left to cue the musicians. “I don’t do sixteenth-century dances.” And her legs were still wobbly, but she’d start a Texas line dance in the middle of Lord Weston’s hall before she’d admit to any such thing.
“Then it is time you learned.”
“In front of all these people?” She tightened her grip on his arm and glanced around the crowded hall. All eyes were on them. She plastered a smile on her face, afraid they’d be laughing at her before the evening ended.
“Have you another suggestion?” He led her to a cleared area in the middle of the hall.
“We could leave.”
“Coward,” he said, goading her.
“It would have been nice if you taught me at the cottage.”
“Yes, that would have been optimal. Too bad we did not think of it then. Besides, you were too busy playing nursemaid.” He stood to her left and took her hand. “Follow me. I doubt you will find this one too difficult and no one will be able to see your feet.”
The music started, and she found herself facing the front of the hall, five other couples joining behind them.
“Two single steps left with your left foot,” Lukas whispered before starting.
Keeping his gaze ahead, he continued. “One double step left, then same thing to the right, except take a double step backwards at the end.”
She relaxed. He was right. The dance wasn’t too difficult. They repeated the steps two more times before he indicated she move to face him the third time. They each went to their respective left sides and passed on the right. After moving right, they passed backward to their right sides.
As the dance progressed and she felt herself becoming more comfortable with the moves, she thought back to the kiss in the alcove. She had dated a hand
ful of men in the twenty-first century and kissed a few of them. Not one of them had ever made her feel the way Lukas did. The echo of his lips on hers was still palpable, strong and sure.
She finished passing Lukas and reached for his hand as they moved forward again. He held it lightly, his thumb making contact with the top of her hand with the merest brush, yet its power resonated along her arm and she broke out in a sweat, remembering how it felt to be engulfed in that power.
He did not to look directly at her when they passed or stood across from each other. His gaze instead fell to the side of her. Was he afraid to look at her or did he feel guilty for the kiss? She couldn’t decide.
The dance came to an end, and Lukas guided her to the edge of the crowd. Before she could say anything, he walked away. In front of her, a different dance began. Watching the couples move in a complicated linear pattern and hopping here and there, she understood why Lukas left the dance floor.
She scanned the room and found him at the entrance of the hall talking with two gentlemen she’d met earlier. She’d thank him later. He helped her open the dancing without incident and left well enough alone when it came to something more complicated.
“Princess Lexy?” A woman her own age appeared at her side. She struggled to remember her name. Was it Lady Rothschild? Richmond? “Lady Rosemund,” the woman said. “We met before dinner.”
Well, at least she got the first letter right. “Sorry. I’ve met a lot of people tonight, and I’m so bad with names.”
Lady Rosemund matched her name, her hair a blazing red. “How overwhelming it must be.” She motioned toward the entrance of the hall. “My husband and I wish to have you and Prince Lukas to our home for a small dinner Tuesday night. Please say you can attend.”
She remembered Lady Rosemund’s husband. He was one of the gentlemen Lukas was talking with, Lord something or other. A blond gentleman whose fair good looks complemented his wife’s more outspoken beauty. “I’m sure we’d be honored to join you.”
“We were all so shocked to hear you were alive. And then for you to marry with such speed. Had you met Prince Lukas in England? Of course, he was Lord Lukas then.” Lady Rosemund leaned in close, eyes sparkling.
“Uh.” Lexy’s mind spun. While she’d agreed to say she’d resided in England until recently, she’d never talked with Lukas about what to say if anyone asked how long they’d known each other. “No, I met him a few weeks ago.” She decided to go with the truth and hoped Lukas would give the same answer if asked. Besides, most of his past was a mystery to her. She wasn’t even sure he’d spent the last few years in England.
“How romantic! Edward and I have known each other since birth. Our parents arranged our marriage while we were young. How boring.”
“Ladies.” Lord Rosemund appeared at his wife’s side and placed an arm around the delicate woman.
“Lord Rosemund,” Lexy said. “Your wife just invited Prince Lukas and me to dinner Tuesday evening.”
Lord Rosemund had a smile as contagious as his wife’s. “Yes, he accepted. I do hope you find it agreeable.”
She scanned the room. Lukas remained at the entranceway, watching her with his usual cold indifference. Beside her, Lady Rosemund murmured something low and undecipherable to her husband. Their meeting might have been boring, but Lexy knew a happily married couple when she saw one.
Before them, a new dance began. Lord Rosemund motioned to his wife and they excused themselves to join. She watched and each shared small touch, each brief glance exchanged, spoke silently of the feelings between the two. Would she ever have that with Lukas? Would he ever look at her with such emotion?
As if summoned by her thoughts, he came to her. “Come. Let us depart.”
He was withdrawn. Nothing new, but in light of their kiss, it irritated her. The distance he put between them felt insurmountable, and his deliberate attempts to ensure they didn’t touch left her confused. He must feel something for her, his kiss proved as much. But why would he hold back?
They sat in the carriage. Lukas was so stiff, she could bounce ice off him.
Ask him.
“I don’t know why everyone makes such a big deal about those ruffs. Why don’t you wear one? All the other men did.”
Wrong question.
He shifted his gaze to look at her in surprise. Not the question he expected either, she guessed.
“I have yet to conform to anyone’s expectations of me. I fail to see why my dress should be any different.” He turned his head to the window. “And ruffs are cumbersome while fighting.”
Ask him.
The question danced on her tongue. Will you share my bed?
But she couldn’t summon the courage, and in the end it didn’t matter. That night he moved to his own room.
Chapter Thirteen
Ruffs? I asked him about ruffs?
Two days later, it still shocked her. The carriage ride back to Hullington had offered the perfect opportunity to question him on the kiss and suggest they move forward with the marriage. Instead she sat in their shared sitting room, stewing over what she should have said and pondering what to do next.
Lukas no longer slept on her floor and since his move to his own room two nights prior, she rarely saw him. While he’d accompanied her to church the day before, the conversation started Friday night had not been brought back up. Nor had the kiss they’d shared on Saturday.
The Duke of Culberton had left on Sunday, his departure bringing a sense of calm and peace to the estate. True to form, he left his younger son irritated. Something said in their parting words drove Lukas away from the carriage with face red and fists clenched. Whatever it was, he didn’t offer to share, and she didn’t feel comfortable asking.
A sound from the yard outside brought her back from her thoughts. Intrigued, she walked to the window and observed the courtyard below. Lukas and Ebbe fenced in a dirt clearing. It was an unequal match, with Lukas towering over Ebbe, and the older man struggling to keep up.
She tilted her head. I could, couldn’t I?
She walked outside and discovered the bout over. Ebbe stood winded beside the clearing, while Lukas lounged nearby, not a glimmer of sweat visible. He said something to the older man, but before he could respond, Ebbe saw her approach from Lukas’s side.
“My lady. What—?” Ebbe started and stopped, opening and closing his mouth several times. He reminded her of a fish she had as a child, and she tried not to giggle at the memory.
Lukas turned and looked her up and down. “Alexia?” he questioned. “What are you about? And what manner of clothing do you wear? Are those my pants?”
“It’s a fencing outfit,” she explained. “If I’d known I’d be whisked off to the sixteenth century, I’d have brought my own. Circumstances being what they are, I took matters into my own hands.” Into her own hands was the truth—Margaret had heard her idea and refused to help.
“To answer your question, yes, they are your pants. They look pretty good on me, don’t you think?” She held out a leg out for inspection, twisting her booted foot first one way and then the other. The pants were much too large, but she’d hitched them up the best she could. A large leather apron from the cook covered the shirt borrowed from Ebbe’s room.
Lukas ignored her question. “I ask again, what are you about?”
“I want to practice.”
“Practice what? Rendering the entire household speechless? You have succeeded. Return to your chamber and put your clothes back on.”
“No. I want to practice fencing. I studied swordplay in school.”
That got his attention. “Women fight in your time?”
She gave a smug smile. “Yes, although the methods are a bit different. Fencing is more of a sport, not a way to fight.”
He looked to Ebbe, but the older man just shrugged. Lukas glanced heavenward and sighed. When he looked at her again, his eyes held a gleam she couldn’t read. “Bixby, give her your rapier.”
Ebbe offered hi
s sword to Lexy with an uncertain expression. The weight of it caught her off-guard; it was heavier than the foils she’d used in college and the edges razor sharp. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Lukas bowed and motioned toward the dirt yard. “My lady.”
She walked to the clearing and tested the weight of the weapon in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Lukas stood across from her, weapon drawn and ready.
“En garde,” he said.
They circled each other slowly.
“I took two semesters of fencing in college.” She lunged forward, aiming at his left shoulder.
He deflected her blade with a quick flick of his sword. “That means naught to me.”
They circled once more.
“I made an ‘A.’”
“Again, naught.”
They lunged at the same time and the sound of metal hitting metal rang out in the otherwise quiet afternoon. She disengaged first, passing her blade under Lukas’s and responding with a thrust to his right side. He blocked, surprise covering his face.
“It means I was good.”
Lukas lunged to make a fake attack on her left and instead thrust to her right when she blocked. She moved fast and blocked again.
“Not bad,” he admitted. “For a woman.”
She stopped, ran two steps forward and struck a low blow. He jumped backward, blocking the strike.
“Not bad, period,” she said.
It’d been four years since she fenced. In that time, she’d forgotten the minute information one gleaned from watching one’s partner. For all his size and strength, Lukas fought with a surprising grace and fluidity. She should, she supposed, have noticed it two evenings prior when they danced. But her mind had been otherwise occupied at the time.
Her mind was not otherwise occupied in that moment. Awareness soaked her innermost being, not only of his body, but also the way it responded to hers. Each small movement she made recognized and answered by him. Fencing became so much more intimate than dancing.
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