If My Heart Could See You

by , Sherry Ewing

  “I was not teasing you, ma cher,” he said huskily, nuzzling her neck.

  Amiria shivered at his touch but had the sudden urge to have him declare himself unto her afore this night was over. She gave a gentle push upon his chest and sat up whilst her hair fell like a veil in front of her face. With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the troublesome tresses back and covered herself as best she could.

  Dristan gave her a troublesome look at her sudden change of mood. “Is their aught amiss, Amiria?”

  “Perchance I am pondering the mysteries of my life of late,” she muttered forlornly.

  “Surely such musings can wait till the morn,” he said brusquely. “I want you . . . ”

  Amiria shook her head to break the enchantment he attempted to weave around her. If he continued to distract her with his dizzying kisses, she would never know what was in his heart. “Aye, you want me as much as I want you, but what of the morrow or the day after? Will you tire of me and toss me aside or someday make me attend your lady wife?”

  Dristan sat up, his ardor apparently cooling quickly at her words. “What nonsense do you speak? Have I not said we will wed?”

  “Aye, but when?” she said, frustrated they should be having this conversation. She had thought mayhap he would take time to woo her in the manner her mother had said her father had done in times past. Mayhap she was being unfair since Dristan did gift her with a most wondrous sword, but she could not help the vulnerable feelings inside her, nor the catch in her voice as her confusing thoughts rumbled around in her head.

  Dristan continued to stare at her, and Amiria knew he saw a thousand emotions play across her face. She was not good at hiding her feelings and, against her will, she could feel unshed tears begin to glisten in her eyes. If only she could make him understand something of her plight.

  He pulled her into his embrace and ran his calloused hands down her hair. She pulled back to look at him, in silence. Mayhap he understood after all.

  “When?” she asked yet again, longing to hear his answer.

  “On the morrow if you but wish it,” he declared. “You had asked for time to resolve yourself to our marriage. I but thought you wanted to get to know one another better. As it troubles you, we shall wed on the morrow, if that satisfies you.”

  “And what of you, my lord? Will that satisfy you?” she questioned hurtfully. “You have not declared your feelings for me. I hear no lays to my beauty, nor do I have flowers on my table. Will you be about wooing your future wife afore we pledge our troth?”

  “I am not much for this wooing business, Amiria. I have spent my life as a seasoned warrior and have never afore had time or patience to worry about such fripperies. I did not think such pretties would make much difference,” he said gruffly. ’Twas clear he felt out of his element.

  “Mayhap not, but every woman wants the one she is to spend her life with to make at least a small effort. Besides, you play the lute most splendidly and have a most wondrous voice. Perchance if you took the time to play and sing for me, ’twould count towards a bit of wooing in my eyes.”

  “I would have thought the sword was more to your liking,” he grumbled.

  “You know it means all to me, Dristan,” she said with a touch of apprehension. “I just wish to know what I see when I look into your eyes.”

  Dristan thought on her words afore answering. “’Tis said the eyes are the window to the soul, or so I’ve heard somewhere. Perchance, they are instead the window to my heart. I have kept it well guarded for I have never found anyone of worth to melt the ice surrounding it, for more years than I can remember.”

  Amiria leaned towards him and rested her hand on his chest, feeling a steady beat beneath her palm. “And if my heart could see you, Dristan, what in truth would it behold?” she inquired carefully.

  He placed his hand over hers and took her cool fingers, bringing them to his lips. He kissed each one ’til she placed her other palm along his cheek. “Surely you know, I care for you Amiria,” he declared honestly. “I would not take you to wife otherwise.”

  “Yes, well, ’tis rumored you have been ordered to do so by the king,” she said sadly with indecisiveness carefully hidden beneath the surface of her trying to be brave.

  “You have heard tell of that?”

  Amiria shrugged casually as if what she had learned had not torn her heart asunder. “Servants gossip and I have ears to hear all whether I wish it or not.”

  “Then let us put an end to idle castle gossip, shall we?” he replied. “May I speak honestly without you thinking I am some sappy youth with no spurs on my heels and no knowledge of women and their desires?”

  “Of course, my lord,” she whispered hopefully. He took her hands and began rubbing his thumbs over the top of her knuckles as she waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. His eyes rose to hers, and the look he gave her made her catch her breath in anticipation of his words. ’Twas more than just a gaze of desire hidden within those magnificent grey eyes of his. ’Twas an open invitation that reached out to capture her heart, if she would but let him into her very soul. She gave him a tentative smile and waited. She would not be disappointed that she did so.

  Dristan took in the woman afore him and felt for the first time that his future would be bright if he could but keep Amiria at his side. A whisper of a conversation with Kenna skimmed across his spirit as he remembered her words, saying he sought a different life. At the time, he thought her words were nonsense and bore no merit. But aye . . . with Amiria as his wife, all things would indeed be possible.

  “I have spent my entire life with a sword in my hand, most likely from the time I could stand,” he began. “Riorden came to my parents holding to squire for my father at an age similar to Patrick. He has been beside me, guarding my back ever since. I have seen much death and killed many men for the sheer victory of a conquering hero, all in the name of a king, who has rewarded me most handsomely. Tourneys have added to my staggering wealth, which only enforced my reputation as the fiercest warrior to ever grace this earth. To be honest, I grow weary of watching those who shrink in fear, whenever I arrive at a castle gate, that I will invade their lands, lopping off heads as I kill all in my wake for the sheer sport of annihilating my enemy.”

  “Dristan, surely you know, I do not think such of you any longer.”

  “Let me finish, Amiria,” he said, dragging his hand through his hair, and once more grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips. “My coffers are nigh unto bursting with enough gold to see me through all my days ’til I am old and grey and beyond even that. My holdings are numerous and vast, both here in England and in France. But gold is only gold, and not the treasure I now seek to claim for the rest of my days,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a steady breath.

  He felt Amiria caressing his skin beneath his eyes with her thumbs, ever so gently, ’til he once more opened his eyes to her. “And what treasure doth my dragon now seek to soothe his mighty temper?” she teased gently.

  “You,” Dristan simply answered with no hesitation.

  “Me?” she seemed astonished at his declaration for, apparently, her thoughts ran true to his own heart.

  “Aye, Amiria. ’Tis you,” he repeated. “You are the true treasure I would have beyond gold, land, or title. You have captured my attention several times, my lady. The first was upon the strand as an apparition in a very fetching lavender gown. I thought for sure that a faerie queen was gracing me with a vision of loveliness. For just as quickly did I gaze upon you, did she just as rapidly take you by returning to the surrounding mist in those early morning hours at dawn.”

  “I did not realize you had seen me there. ’Twas after my father’s passing, and I was feeling quite alone.”

  “And I am most sorry for his loss, Amiria, and that of your brother. If I could turn back the hands of time and return your loved ones, I would do so most willingly.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Dristan reached out and fingered a lock of
her hair again. “I had barely begun to get my senses restored when I met yet another girl asleep on the sand dunes. She made me laugh, that woodland nymph, and I searched for days trying to find her whereabouts, to no avail. Little did I realize, the young man I was training most ruthlessly each day was, in truth, the maid I had been searching for. Imagine my surprise that eve at the spring!”

  Amiria blushed and gave him a timid smile which he returned.

  “I see there is a fire within you, burning most vibrantly, somewhat similar to my own which is fiercely lit within me,” he began again. “You are my match, Amiria, in every way. I cannot promise that all will be peaceful between us for the rest of our lives since we are both strong willed, but I do promise we shall live life to its fullest. We will learn to love one another as our time together advances through the years, we will have children to raise and watch grow to our delight, and I shall see your siblings are well taken care of.”

  “’Tis more than I could ever hope for.” Amiria believed he spoke the truth.

  “Then I earnestly pray your heart will tell you my words are true, and if you were to see mine, then you would know that it will beat for you and you alone. No other will I take, for you are mine, and just as you claimed me, I shall do the same for all of my days, however blessed those shall be,” he vowed. He gathered her in his arms and laid her down upon the pillows. “So what say you? Will you be my lady wife? Not because our king demands it of me, but because I wish it for myself.”

  “Aye, Dristan. I will pledge you my troth forevermore,” she whispered softly, and he claimed her lips in a fierce and hungry binding kiss.

  And so, as the evening progressed, there were no longer whispered words or mingled laughter coming from the lord’s chamber, only sighs of pleasure. On this night, they sealed their fate to one another ’til they could get themselves to a priest to give his blessing in the eyes of God above, and fortune could then smile down upon them.

  ’Twas not ’til the skies began to lighten in brilliant shades of pink and orange as the new day dawned, that Amiria and Dristan did at last fall fast asleep. Even as they slumbered, they continued to hold on to one another as if afraid to let go of what they had found.

  For although ’twas most unexpected, and they were not as yet ready to admit it fully even unto themselves, they had found the rare gift of love in one another. After all . . . love, beyond any doubt, is life’s true treasure transcending time itself. Beyond compare and if carefully nurtured, ’twould last them a lifetime and fulfill their hearts’ desires. The miracle of love . . . Aye, they were most fortunate indeed.

  Thirty-one

  The early evening hours had brought the majority of the Berwyck’s inhabitants into the chapel to attend the evening mass. The priest stood at the altar, peering down from his lofty perch upon the souls whose heads were bowed in reverent worship as he continued preaching his sermon in Latin. The grey smoke from the lit torches had filled the room with a lingering haze, irritating the eyes of the occupants, although none dared to voice their discomfort. ’Twas a small enough penance to pay for the absolution of one’s sins.

  Amiria sat with fidgety hands, wondering when the priest would be finished so she could return inside the keep and once more don hose and tunic. She had dressed this eve to please Dristan in the lavender gown he had first seen her in and was thankful Sabina had not done it irreparable damage. It had taken longer than she thought ’til Amiria found the garment carelessly discarded beneath her bed in a wrinkled heap. Thanks to Lynet’s help, the dress looked good as new.

  Her hair she had left, at least temporarily, down in a cascade of shimmering loose red curls. From the look Dristan cast her when she entered the chapel, he had been most satisfied to see her thusly attired. Casting a sideways glance at him beneath her lashes, she noticed that he, too, had dressed resplendently this eve in a rich dark-blue tunic.

  She began to silently tap her foot from boredom. ’Twas a bad habit of hers she had tried to still over the years whenever she was required to sit for long periods of time whilst indoors. Apparently, she still failed after all this time to cease the repetitive movement. To ease her mind, she thought about the past se’nnight and how time seemingly flew in a whirlwind of activities of living life to its fullest, as Dristan had made mention.

  They still trained every morn after mass, although Amiria now took on the task of seeing to the keep. The men had been most pleasantly surprised that first eve when they had returned to sup and witnessed the miraculous condition of the Great Hall.

  The dogs had been removed from the keep and no longer added to the filth of the floor that had been scrubbed clean. New rushes mixed with scented herbs were now in place having been strewn about the scoured stones, giving a fresh clean odor to the room. ’Twas indeed more agreeable, even to the hardened warrior’s way of thinking, than its earlier condition. Nor could they complain when Amiria saw that food and ale were readily available to fill their hunger and quench their thirst upon arrival from their rigorous training.

  ’Twas only when Turquine bellowed for one of the whore’s to come out of hiding and join him for a mug or two that they learned all the woman of that ilk had been sent to the village where they belonged. His voice rang out in annoyance as several others joined in to proclaim their displeasure. Amiria had come to stand afore them with her hands on her hips, daring them to usurp her authority. Her own temper flaring, she voiced, in no uncertain terms, that this was her home and they could very well take themselves off to the village to see to their needs, for those women were no longer welcome within the walls of the castle grounds.

  Since Dristan continued to allow her to have her way and did not gainsay her, ’twas clear the knights stood no chance of swaying her decision on the matter. They had grumbled into their cups about the distance they now had to travel for a comely wench, along with what other unpopular changes may yet come.

  Fingering the fabric of her gown whilst memories flooded her mind, an enchanting smile appeared on her face. After their last coupling, Dristan refused to have her come to his bed again ’til after they were wed and instead each night escorted her to her own chamber to take her slumber. She may have had doubts briefly flash afore her mind, but they were quickly put to rest when he opened the chamber door for her to enter that first eve. Her eyes had sparkled in delight, as she beheld what flowers he could find gracing the tables of her room. Given the time of year, she was astonished to know the time it must have taken him to find any at all that had not succumbed to the frost found most mornings. She had turned to face him, yet he had only taken her hand. Bowing low, he had pressed a chaste kiss into her palm afore he took his leave. When the door had pressed shut, she had given a heavenly sigh of pleasure.

  The evenings had been just as splendid. Spending time in his solar with Lynet and Patrick, ’twas a most promising setting with her family about her, especially when he took his lute in hand and began to sing. The melody of his voice felt as if it sung to her alone whilst his agile fingers strummed the instrument. When he had finished each eve, the look he gave her shook her to her very core. Aye . . . there was no doubt left in her mind that he had properly wooed her to her satisfaction after all!

  “Cease, Amiria,” Dristan whispered in a low timbre, “else we must needs sit here longer in the eyes of the good father, since you refuse to pay attention to his words.”

  “I canna help it, Dristan,” her hushed tones were for his ears only.

  The priest cleared his throat and began again with his voice raised louder, as if to reach into their very souls.

  “Ugh! I was right,” he moaned in frustration. “Now we must listen to him drone on about the weakness of the flesh!”

  “I am most sorry, my lord,” she said softly as she bowed her head again and made every effort to sit still.

  Seeing her meekness must have appeased the priest, as he at last finished his sermon with a loud amen. With those about her rising to leave, Dristan took her elbow and moved h
er forward towards the altar.

  “A moment longer, Father Donovan, if you please,” he said as everyone halted their steps to depart.

  “Aye, my lord?” the priest said, coming to stand afore the couple.

  “We ask that you would give us your blessing and wed us,” Dristan declared as he brought Amiria closer to his side.

  The priest glared at the two in stony silence ’til his gaze finally hovered on Amiria. “And what of you, my child? Will you have him?”

  Amiria looked up at Dristan and saw an instant where the thought she would refuse his offer flashed in those steel grey eyes. She smiled with the confidence of a woman who knew her own heart. “Aye, Father, I shall have him.”

  A screech rent the air as Sabina ran, stumbling from the chapel, wailing at the injustice of life. Amiria shook her head and gave her attention back to the priest. “Please proceed, good Father,” she said gently.

  “Holdings?” the priest queried to Dristan.

  “Scribe!” Dristan called out. A young man moved quickly forward and took out parchment and quill. “Take this down,” he ordered, and with a short nod from the scribe that he was ready, Dristan quickly began to give an accounting of all his holdings and property he brought to the marriage.

  Amiria’s eyes widened at the amount of wealth Dristan would bring to their union. The scribe’s quill made loud scratching noises upon the parchment whilst he continued to furiously take down all that was being said. Time and time again, the quill went from ink well to parchment ’til Amiria was afraid the bottle would run dry. From the accounting Dristan gave, ’twas clear she would not want for anything for the rest of her days here on earth.

  The priest nodded his approval and once more he looked upon Amiria to give her own reckoning of her dowry. Afore she could answer, another spoke on her behalf.

  “She brings a full garrison o’ knights along wi’ gold,” Killian said firmly. “Several ’orses will also add tae our liege’s stable. Thar’s property tae tha north in Scotland wi’ a fine a keep you’d ever find and o’ some worth belonging tae her Da’s grandsire. ’er mother also bequeathed her a modest manor on tha outskirts o’ London.”