by Wood, Lynn
It was funny how his brother shared his devil eyes, but seemed the complete opposite in temperament. Luke seemed as happy to be rid of his older brother as she was. His touch was gentle when he bathed her forehead with a cool cloth from the spring, or when he held her head to help her swallow a broth one of his men prepared for her. She could admit in the silence of her heart Luke confused her. His eyes, though dark as sin, were usually alight with amusement, as if he shared some private joke with the Almighty He neglected to share with the rest of his mortal children. Sometimes Luke reminded her of Michel, the way he sparred with her and attempted to convince her all would be well with his lighthearted banter.
When she closed her eyes at night she would recall Michel telling her she would feel differently about marriage when the right man came along. Sometimes she wondered if things had turned out otherwise, if Luke could have been that man. Her lips curved in recognition of her foolishness. If her life had been different, the probability of her and Luke’s paths ever crossing would have been extremely remote. Still, as she stood at the brink of the end of her short life, she could indulge in a young maid’s dreams of knights in shining armor and living happily ever after, even as she acknowledged forlornly there would be no happily ever after for her.
She would never experience the breathless anticipation of a lover’s first caress, or know how it felt to surrender her body and soul into the keeping of a man she loved more than life itself. Tears filled her eyes at all she would never know. She would never give birth to a child of her body. She would never wear her mother’s wedding gown and be escorted down the long aisle of the chapel at Heaven’s Crest on her father’s arm before he placed her hand on the extended arm of her betrothed. Nor would she kneel before Father John, the ancient priest who baptized them all and who had the care of the souls at Heaven’s Crest and the surrounding villages, so he might bless her wedding vows.
The weight and responsibility of the Salusian stone would never settle around her neck and nestle between her breasts. She wondered what color the stone would have assumed when she held it in her hand for the first time as its rightful keeper. So many mysteries she would never unravel, so many questions unanswered, so many experiences she would never know, but the one she regretted most was that she would pass from this world with the knowledge her only memory of a man’s touch on her soft flesh would forever be a violent one. There was so much violence in her life lately. So much death. She did not want to kneel before her maker with that stain on her soul. How pitiful, Melissa, fine lady of Heaven’s Crest, would die a virgin.
She was cold. Why was it so cold here? Shivers shook her slender weight violently beneath the layers of blankets Luke insisted on covering her with. Why did not God just take her eternal soul and be done with it? Were her sins so great he demanded she suffer this final indignity to end her life at the mercy of the marauders who stole her home, as well as her life? She tossed restlessly, then pushed the blankets aside, intent on speeding her end along in the event God was inclined to tarry in his final call to her.
“No Melissa, you must rest.”
Melissa squinted into the darkness. “Luke?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here? Have you come to torture me like your brother?”
Silence greeted her outrageous question. Melissa could feel her companion’s indignation simmering within its stilted depths, but Luke offered no defense on his behalf.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m not in a very good mood.”
“Really? And all of our previous conversations to date have been so pleasant.”
Melissa was surprised to discover there was still laughter left inside her aching body. She giggled at his sarcasm and offered by way of a half-hearted apology. “I guess I have not been a very cooperative patient.”
“To say the least.”
“Well you may take comfort in the knowledge you will be rid of me soon.”
“Oh? Are you planning a journey somewhere?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. A final trip, I think.”
“Melissa…” His voice trailed off. He too could read between the lines of the silences between them. He knew as well as she did death would soon come calling for her and when death came, there was no refusing his extended skeletal finger pointed in one’s direction.
“Let us be honest with each other, now the end is assured…well, my end anyway.”
She heard him sigh in the dark and her eyes sought his where he stood above her, the light from the fire near the entrance casting shadows around his tall frame and giving her only glimpses of his face. He knelt down by her side and tucked the covers around her she threw off in her discontent. Tears stung her eyes when he brushed a gentle hand across her cheek and smoothed a stray dark curl away from her face. Melissa was surprised at the comfort she gained from his tender touch and the source of her deepest regret returned with a longing that forced the tears filling her eyes to brim over and slide silently down her cheeks.
“What is this? Tears? I have seen you angry enough to try to stick your very sharp dagger into me, too ill to even lift your eyelids so I could see your lovely blue eyes, even doubled over with laughter at some foolish joke, but this is a first. What have I done to warrant such a display?” Luke’s gentle teasing only served to intensify the craving within her.
“It is not you. Well, not completely.” She qualified with a slight smile.
The light from the fire was enough for him to see her lips curved upward in amusement. Luke had difficulty imagining what she could possibly find funny in light of her current circumstances. “What can you possibly find to smile about right now?”
Melissa’s smile widened at his bewildered query until a wide grin split her lips and her eyes fairly danced with laughter. She bit back a laugh at the thought of Luke’s reaction if she confessed her biggest regret about the prospect of dying to him. A giggle escaped her clenched lips and she reached up a weak hand to try to hold it between her lips.
Entranced by this previously unseen side of his patient, Luke captured her much smaller hand in his and brought it to his lips, glad she no longer flinched with fear at his touch. He caressed it gently, brushing his lips against her palm, his eyes locked with her surprised blue ones.
“Why did you do that?” Melissa asked, tugging on her hand, the breathlessness in her voice not completely caused by her fever.
“If things had been different, Lady Melissa, I would have been the first of your unwanted suitors to present himself at your father’s door seeking permission to court you.”
Even though she knew he was teasing her, simply trying to ease the pain of her final hours, Melissa could appreciate his kindness and the tender care he gave her these long days and nights. “I was thinking the same thing…about all the things I would never get to do now.”
He held her glance, his dark eyes filled with compassion. For once the ready laughter was absent from his eyes.
“Don’t.” She demanded, still trying to regain possession of her hand, but he refused to release it. His thumb gently caressed her palm where it rested in his hand.
“Don’t what?” He asked his eyes never leaving her pale face.
“Don’t pity me. That’s not what I meant.” Pity was the last thing she wanted from this man.
“It is not a sin for my heart to cry out with regret at what my brother did to you, at the beauty he will have stolen from this world.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” She whispered.
His free hand reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Her lips curved slightly at his outrageous compliment. “That is only because you never met my sister.”
“Lady Rhiann?”
Shocked, Melissa’s hand jerked in his, but Luke tightened his grip, refusing to release her. “How do you know about my sister?”
“Well certainly it was not because I raped her after the fal
l of Heaven’s Crest.”
Melissa’s eyes filled with stunned tears again. “Heaven’s Crest fell?”
Luke cursed himself for his impatience. Did he really need to go into this now simply because of her perfectly understandable dig to his pride?
“Melissa. Your sister is fine. She is wed to a friend of mine. He adores her. She seems content. I believe she has fallen in love with her husband.”
Melissa’s eyes clung to his. It was obvious she needed the comfort of believing her sister was well. “Rhiann is married? But she’s just a child.”
As gently as possible, Luke contradicted her conclusion. “I imagine she was forced to grow up quickly during the invasion.
“I abandoned her and my mother, though I cannot be certain my mother even noticed when I left.”
“Lady Rhiann clings to the hope you and your brother will be found alive. She asked me to search for you both while I sought news of my brother.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Luke’s lips kicked up in a smile. “Do you really need to ask me that?”
“She’s happy? You’re not just making that up so I don’t die with that on my conscious as well?”
“Yes, she seems happy. Obviously she’s still mourning your family, and still hopes you and Michel will return to her.”
“I hope I will be unable to fulfill.” Melissa turned her face towards the cave wall so he would be unable to read her expression. For the most part she kept her bouts of self-pity hidden from him but she was losing her battle to do so now.
“You cannot know that.”
At his quiet contradiction, she turned back to face him. Her eyes clung to his when she admitted. “Yes, I do. Death has become my closest companion, Luke. He sneaks up on me in my dreams, sits beside me and speaks to me as if we were old acquaintances. Did you know death is a man? Of course such news should not come as any surprise should it? Women bring new life into this passing world. Death is the province of men. They seem to enjoy fencing with it, toying with it, making it a game, thinking foolishly they can come out the victor in such a contest.”
Luke made no attempt to interrupt her ramblings, even as a shiver ran up his spine at her words. Melissa’s description of death sounded very similar to the words he would have used if someone asked him to describe Mason. He cupped her chin in his hand and stared intently down into her eyes. His own filled with regret at what he knew must be. “If my brother was not already dead, I would kill him myself.”
Grateful, Melissa’s eyes smiled back up at him. “Then I am glad I spared you the consequences of such a reckless deed.”
“I should have killed him years ago and I would not now be paying such a high price for his depravity.”
Their eyes clung to each other’s. What passed between them was beyond the ability of simple words to impart. As if in a dream, Melissa lifted her face to his. At the same time he bent his own to meet the soft, parted lips she offered him and with but a gentle urging of his weight pressed her back against the pallet. Their lips met. Hers parted. Her name was the merest whisper as it passed through his lips even as his tongue swept inside to taste her sweet mouth. Their tongues sparred in a gentle contest until Melissa surrendered to the rush of emotions racing through her fevered body. An intense longing filled her to unmask the secrets of a lover’s sweet caress, but not just any lover. She craved only Luke’s touch. She desired only Luke’s hands to caress her. Wanted only to surrender herself to him.
Just as Melissa’s hands reached up to wrap around his muscular shoulders and pull him closer, Luke tore himself away from her clinging embrace and thrust a shaking hand through his hair. “Forgive me. I swear to you I am not my brother. I would never take advantage of a woman…” Not waiting for her reply, he swore vividly under his breath. “Why should you believe me now when by my own actions I am condemned?” He stood and put as much distance between them as was possible in the small confines of the cave, hoping in the uncertain light he would be unable to discern the accusation and distain he must read in her glance. At least he hoped it was distain only and not fear. He would not have her go to her death or seek it more eagerly than it already stalked her in an attempt to escape the lust of another Michaels heir.
“Luke.” Her voice called out to him in the darkness. Surprisingly he could detect no shock or repulsion within its breathless depths, only the soft whisper of a lover’s sweet longing. “Luke, please.”
In the darkness Luke gathered himself. He would not deny her the comfort of his presence at this, her last hours. He was both stunned and appalled by the sharp sting of lust he struggled against. He was aware of the attraction that had been simmering between them over the course of Melissa’s confinement. He was not even particularly surprised by it. They spent long days and nights in close communion as he tended to her. The growing inevitable intimacy between them was a natural product of the long hours they spent alone in each other’s company. Their banter and jibes at each other were an attempt on both of their parts to keep the attraction from boiling over where they would be forced to confront it. When he was certain he had regained his self-control he knelt close by her side again but made no move to touch her.
“Luke, are you angry with me? I would not have us part in anger.”
Her soft whisper was another, this time, unintentional jibe at his conscience. “It is you, Melissa, who has every right to be angry with me. I took advantage of your weakened state. I swear I am not a man controlled by his passions.”
She reached up to brush her fingers gently across the planes and sharp angles of his face. He closed his eyes against the longing gripping him at her gentle caress. Finally, unsure of where the true measure of his self-discipline lay, he captured her roaming fingers in his grip and held tight. Their eyes met in the shadowed light of the cave. “I know you are not like your brother, Luke. It astonishes me you could harbor such a worry.”
“The same blood runs through our veins,” he reminded her bitterly.
“Only partially so. Your mother must have been a gentle woman to have bred such tenderness in her son.”
“You are mistaken, Melissa. There is no tenderness in me. My acquaintances would be shocked to hear your claim.”
“Then they do not know you very well.”
“And you believe you do?” He risked meeting her glance, his curiosity overcoming his dread of the accusation and disgust he feared he would find there.
“Yes, better I think than the acquaintances you mentioned. Have you not nursed me most considerately these many long days? Even though I know your men are anxious to return to Normandy and are no doubt baffled by your insistence on caring for me personally, rather than transporting me to the first occupied cottage you could find, and sending word to my sister of where to find me.”
“You would not survive such a transfer, even if I was inclined to carry it out.”
“My point exactly. A lesser man would not have concerned himself with the problem of whether or not I survived. He might in fact undertake the journey with the thought of hastening my death, while at the same time convincing himself he was doing what was best for me.”
“If you think to make me into a saint, I assure you the halo will not fit comfortably upon my head.”
Melissa laughed at his bitter jest. “I do not believe I would find a saint to my liking. His eyes wouldn’t gleam with laughter whenever something amused him. He would never kiss a woman who was so completely at a disadvantage.”
Luke’s ready grin flashed at her teasing. “I never claimed to be a saint.”
“No, but you have been my savior.”
“I only wish that was true.” His voice, filled with regret, took on a more serious tone.
“Is it true a man cannot deny a friend a dying wish?”
“Certainly I would find it very difficult, if not impossible, to do so.”
“And are we friends, Luke?” Her voice was barely a whisper across the small distance separatin
g their mouths. His head was bent close to hers so she wouldn’t exhaust herself lifting her own off the pallet to be nearer to him.
“Yes, Melissa, I hope you may think of me as your friend.”
“Then I have a favor to ask of you, Luke. A last request. A dying request.”
“What is it? If it is within my power, I swear to you I will grant your bid.”
Her lips curved triumphantly as he fell nicely into her trap. “You swear?”
“Yes, on my honor as a knight. I vow I will see your appeal through.”
“Come closer so I may whisper my appeal in your ear. It is rather embarrassing to speak the words out loud. I certainly would not want one of your men to overhear.”
Curious, Luke bent closer, thinking to reassure her about the impossibility of his men overhearing. Her voice was so soft he was having trouble hearing her from only inches away. Then her lips brushed against his ear and he lost his ability to think of anything else. When he was able to recover his wits long enough to wrap his mind around the favor she sought from him, he assumed he must be the one suffering from the effects of fever. He almost reached up his hand to check if his own head burned. Melissa could not have possibly just asked him the entreaty he would swear she just whispered in his ear. He must be hallucinating. Perhaps her fever was not caused by her injuries, but was from some dreaded disease that just happened to strike at the same time as his brother’s assault on her, and now seemed intent on making him its next victim.
“Luke?” The hope in her voice should have sounded pitiful to him, yet it sent his manly passions surging through his body. In the space of a moment, he was fully aroused and the palms of his hands were damp with sweat. He thrust an impatient hand through his hair. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to remove himself from this cave. The walls were starting to close in around him. He needed to get away from Melissa’s feminine scent. The one he was suddenly so profoundly, so achingly aware of.