My Enemy, My Love--World of de Wolfe Pack

by Ruth Kaufman

  Antoine happened to return with the cot. He quickly set it up, then left them alone.

  “I’ll sleep there,” she offered. “It’s not too short or narrow for me.”

  For a minute, she thought he’d refuse. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Though being wrapped in his arms would make the long night pass more agreeably. She wanted to listen to him breathe, feel his chest rise and fall against her back as he held her. Hear his heartbeat match hers. Feel protected for a few hours.

  Learn whatever it was lovers did in the middle of the night. Was it wrong to allow her interest in him to push aside her fears for a few hours?

  “Very well. Let me unlace your gown,” he said. “I’ll turn away while you change.”

  Aline turned, anticipating his fingers on her clothed back. He touched her neck, sending a tingle down her spine. Glad he couldn’t see her blush, she wished her mind would rule her body.

  She had control over nothing. Nothing.

  Slowly his fingers traced a path across her skin to the ties, then he slowly pulled each cord. She willed him to hurry. His nearness and the slight rasp of his breath did strange things to her. Finally, cold air swept her back. A gasp escaped her as his finger slid down her spine.

  Quickly she changed into his large shirt and climbed into the cot, covers clutched above her chest.

  As he finished undressing, Aline couldn’t look away. There wasn’t really anywhere else to look without facing the wall. She could close her eyes. That little bit of power she did have. But if she wasn’t going to have him beside her, she’d have this.

  He removed his chainse, hose and shoes. Her first view of a naked man, if only from the side. She folded her fingers into fists to curb yearning to run them over the impressive display of muscles on his chest and stomach, tapering down to…. The fascinating curve of his backside down to his powerful thigh…. She blushed again and felt foolish for staring. Had he noticed? She’d never had the opportunity to peruse a male form other than as represented by statues. This man surely was a fine sight to behold.

  She shouldn’t think of him but work harder to figure out how to find her family and be gone from this country before she and Apollo wed. Abandoning him once he was her rightful husband would be much harder and probably illegal as well immoral.

  It was as if each country had a hold of one of her arms and pulled, north for England and south for France. If she weren’t careful, she’d be torn in two.

  Chapter 7

  After Apollo dressed the next morning, Jehanne brought her a plain but clean brown gown of coarse wool. She appreciated that this garment lacked an odor, but still missed her own. She yearned for anything familiar and thus comforting as she added the cloak and a fur pelt. Missing her belongings seemed silly in light of all of her serious problems, but needing to borrow everything, even a chemise, made her feel even more the helpless outsider.

  The uncertainty of not knowing where she’d live burrowed deep. Would she ever feel at home again? Despite the thick clothing, she remained chilled to the bone.

  Should she watch the day’s events unfold? What would she see from the French vantage point? She owed it to herself, her family and her people to serve as witness. Any pain would be preferable to not knowing and would make her feel she made some, albeit small, contribution. Not hiding away, but facing the brutal truth head on.

  The king appeared at Apollo’s door in full battle attire, from his chainmail shirt covered by a blue tabard to his silver helm. Her heart beat faster and her hands clenched. She wouldn’t quail, though his determined expression didn’t bode well for her family. When would she be free of him?

  After she and Apollo rose from their bows, Philip said, “I’ve been praying for God to smile on us in victory. My men say they’re ready to set fire to the wood frame they built in the tunnel, and our tower is ready. If they’ve done their jobs, the walls should fall today. Before We proceed, We wish to be merciful by giving the English one final chance to accede.

  “The remaining useless mouths are on their own. I’ve done all I can.”

  “My thanks,” Aline whispered, her heart full. Were they strong enough to survive? Would they resume peaceful lives? At least they weren’t trapped.

  The king continued, “I shall take advantage of your presence in our camp, Lady Aline, by offering your father an exchange: you, in return for him handing the chateau over to Me without a fight. If he agrees, no one will die today. I’ll need you to come with my herald so your father can see you.”

  Panic and gratitude flooded her, the force of the odd mix making her stomach churn and throat tighten. “Sire, that is most kind.”

  Perhaps she could contribute to saving lives after all. Her hopes and worries were for naught, because her father probably wouldn’t make the exchange. King Philip knew her father hadn’t allowed her to return. Was he playing some sort of game with her as bait? Should she speak up and show loyalty to the liege lord of the man who’d given her succor? Did the king believe that, with the stakes so high, her father would finally agree to surrender, or did he merely hope to prove he was merciful when her father was not?

  Had conditions for her father and his men worsened since she’d last seen him…were they so miserable they’d willingly surrender, when they hadn’t for months? And what about the hundreds of people who’d been released, had they found safe havens?

  “It’s also practical, and beneficial to us both,” the king said. “Neither army has to abide injuries or deaths. Nor would the chateau suffer additional damage I’d have to spend a significant amount of man hours and coin to repair.”

  Apollo didn’t look pleased, but he’d told her he wouldn’t gainsay his king. Then again, he knew the chances of this succeeding were slim. If it did, she’d never see him again.

  Her heart wrenched. She’d come to care for him so quickly. No matter, for he was Norman.

  Focus on today.

  “If the exchange is accepted, will Lady Aline return to England with her father or remain here and wed with me?” Apollo asked. “To bind our people, as you said.”

  The king’s slight smile revealed nothing. “We shall see.”

  Aline had assumed she’d stay with her family. “What does that mean?” she dared ask, as bruised as if she were the ball kicked back and forth by boys in the chateau’s bailey. Being trapped in the cold with no relief in sight was worse, but must her life from now on always be the better of two abysmal options?

  King Philip didn’t deign to reply.

  She closed her eyes, picturing herself strolling through her garden with lilies, cowslips, daisies and more abloom in dappled sunlight. A deep breath almost allowed her to smell the flowers. An ache for her simple life back home brought tears to her eyes. Was it possible to return to that carefree state? She lowered her gaze so the keen Apollo wouldn’t notice. Kindness from him at this moment would break her.

  “The herald will fetch you shortly. Be ready,” Philip called over his shoulder as he left.

  “What does the king intend?” She stood, her hands on the soft fur of the pelts. Small comfort in a world of turmoil. “At first I assumed the king would just hand me over to my father—assuming he wants me back. Then I feared he meant to trick my father by offering me while still demanding I marry you. And then…did he make an idle threat, or is my life in danger?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” Apollo looked as lost as she felt. “I’ve never known him to do something like this. He could mean any of those things, depending on how he reacts to whatever your father decides.”

  Did Apollo care that they might not wed? What would make her happiest? Hopelessness enveloped her. She did need his reassurance, after all. It wouldn’t break her. It would save her.

  “I’m frightened.”

  He opened his arms. Without hesitation, she let him enfold her in now-familiar Apollo-scented warmth and solace. Instantly, she felt safe, as though he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Protected, though
he had as little control over what happened as she.

  Concern over her uncertain fate sapped her fleeting sense of peace. She didn’t want to marry Apollo, but didn’t want to leave him, either. The thought of never seeing him again rankled and seared her with loneliness. She wanted to get to know him and learn what he liked and disliked. Was she being contrary to want what she now might not have but didn’t want when she could’ve had it?

  He’d said he was attracted to her. If he compromised her, maybe she could stay with him even if her father accepted the exchange. But the king would be furious at them both, and would likely blame Apollo. Being the French army’s captive, held for days in a man’s tent with no chaperone, what reputation did she have left?

  In England, she’d only had one suitor. Her father hadn’t approved because her swain lacked land. She’d thought him attractive and had wanted to get to know him, wondering if this man could be her husband.

  When her father refused to let him visit again, she’d been disappointed, not broken-hearted. After that, the time never seemed right, her father had said, to have her wed.

  Who would she meet in France? The lack of potential husbands was just one more thing she’d hated about life in the chateau. She wanted a house and family of her own more than anything. And at six-and-twenty, she might be running out of time to find a husband to be part of making her dream come true. Yet against all odds, she had met a wonderful man.

  She wanted to scream. No matter how hard she tried to find a way to control her circumstances, the outcome for others would be worse than for her if she acted upon any of her ideas. But there was one thing she could try: to experience a bit of joy before it was too late. To forget for just a moment the worst of what today and her future could bring.

  “I think you should kiss me,” she said.

  * * *

  “What?” Not that Apollo didn’t like the idea of kissing Aline, and often. Not that he didn’t like having her in his arms, both because he enjoyed being with her and to be sure she wasn’t off trying to carry out some lunatic scheme. His body tightened at the thought of tasting her. Hearing her moan. Making her….

  “There’s so little I can control. Even back at home,” she continued. “You see, my parents were quite strict. They wanted me to be a good influence for my younger siblings, so I wasn’t allowed to be alone with a boy, much less a man. I’ve never been kissed. At social gatherings, I sensed my parents’ watching me, and so didn’t encourage anyone. Because once when I spoke overlong with Adam, the chandler’s son, I incurred my father’s wrath.

  “The time has long passed for me to make my own choices. And I want to know how it feels to kiss. To kiss you. I thought, and I admit hoped, you were going to do so yesterday, but then the women came in.” She blushed prettily. “There’s a chance I could die or that we could be separated forever. I know it’s a rather awkward request. If it would be distasteful to you, please say so, and I’ll—” Aline tensed, as if absorbing the enormity of what she’d boldly asked, what she’d confessed to a man she’d met only recently. She ran her fingers over the dark coverlet, clearly trying to hide her embarrassment.

  “When people kiss, usually they’re moved by passion, in the moment, not because they’re asked.” No woman had asked him such a thing before. They’d never had to. He preferred short but sweet liaisons with available women, who shared the goal of mutual pleasure that began in the moment, not after discourse about what their relationship meant or their intimate pasts. Doing so now, with Aline, felt uncomfortable yet rewarding. It had been so long since he’d been close to anyone. He’d thought it for the best, to avoid the pain of farewells or worse, death, but she was changing his mind.

  Aline sat on the bed and sank back onto the bolster. Her face, which had been so endearingly wistful, so full of romantic hope a moment before, closed abruptly at his words.

  An indefinable emotion pierced him as hope faded from her eyes. Was it understanding? Concern? He shouldn’t have spoken his thoughts, but merely acceded to her request. Why not kiss her, if doing so would make her happy? What harm could there be? He had wanted to yesterday, as he’d told her. There was no chance of going any further right now, and it might help them both take their minds off waiting for the herald to fetch her and the yawning uncertainty of what lay ahead. Definitely a better way to pass the time than pacing the small hut.

  If one kiss would restore the light to her eyes, ’twas a small price to pay. And it might be his only chance for any intimacy with Aline. The king’s offer had stunned him, too. If her father accepted it, she could be taken from him forever.

  At least they’d have this moment to remember.

  * * *

  Aline closed her eyes, a torrent of embarrassment preventing her from looking at the handsome man before her. She couldn’t bear to see his gaze fill with pity or any other unsavory emotion. Not surprising that she’d been mistaken about his interest in her despite his words, as she had so little experience beyond casual flirting at feasts. But he certainly didn’t have to be so blunt about the lack of it. Nor had she anticipated that his rejection might open an aching hole deep in her chest. She had to regain her dignity.

  She opened her eyes. “Never mind. ’Twas just a woman’s foolish dream on a what will surely prove to be a most difficult day.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do as you ask. You’re right. Sharing pleasure right now is one of the few things we can control.” He leaned forward, so near she could again smell the fresh scent of his soap, and lightly touched her lips with his own.

  “There.” He folded his arms and sat back. “One kiss.”

  That wasn’t even close to what she had in mind. She’d seen couples kiss now and again, eyes closed, leaning into each other, holding on as if they never wanted to let go, oblivious to the world around them.

  She wanted that. With him.

  “I’m sure you can do better. Don’t tell me you’ve never—” She couldn’t finish. She felt herself blush at the wayward nature of her thoughts. How many women had he kissed? Or known?

  This was too strange, too awkward. She should’ve kept her wishes to herself. Then again, better to feel anything but fear and panic today.

  “We need not delve into my past to resolve this.” He paused, an intriguing thoughtful expression on his face. If only he’d kiss her again, and mean it. “Yes, I can do better. Much.”

  Apollo slid closer, but though she could feel his delicious heat, didn’t touch her. She wanted him to. Wanted him to put his arms around her again or run his fingers through her hair. To choose her even for the moment because he wanted to, not because he was ordered to by his king. So she could feel she had some value beyond a pawn in a chess game sacrificed so more powerful pieces could continue on their important journey.

  He braced himself with a hand on wall near her head. His gaze, focused so intently on her, filled her with anticipation.

  Aline couldn’t breathe. Why had she asked this of him? Her heart pounded so loudly, could he hear it, too? Her face flushed as she heard and felt each breath he took. In, out. In, out. Soft air caressing her skin. Not enough. She needed more, but wasn’t brave enough to close the short distance between them. To touch him.

  The moment stretched.

  Slowly he bent closer, ever closer, until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth away. His golden brown eyes met hers as he put his hand against her cheek. His breath was soft and smelled faintly of fennel.

  Then Apollo kissed her.

  His lips were soothing, then demanding as they moved on hers. Exactly what she’d dreamed of. After a moment, she opened for his tongue. Blood rushed through her veins as the kiss deepened. Her arms tingled. She felt dizzy.

  Was she going to faint? Did all kisses with any man feel this way? Is this what the couples she’d seen had shared? No wonder her parents had kept her and her sisters from being alone with men.

  She leaned into him, savoring each sensation.

  His hands slid into h
er hair, sending delicious chills over her scalp as he kissed her again. He pulled her tight against him. Her chest pressed against his. So good. As she slid her arms around him, his leashed strength made her woman’s parts tingle. Her insides were in an uproar and she craved…more.

  Abruptly, he pulled away.

  She gaped, struggling to regain her composure.

  He left without a word.

  Sudden tears dripped down her face. Her emotions seemed out of her control, too. Had Apollo enjoyed that as much as she had, and left because he feared the force of his desire? Or because it was the worst kiss he’d ever had, and he couldn’t bear to let her know? What a fanciful fool. She’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for. That should be the end of it.

  Then she realized she was alone. Should she run…while the army was busy preparing for battle?

  She grabbed her cloak. And almost collided with a herald in the king’s deep blue livery with a gold fleur-de-lis on his chest. “Lady Aline, it’s time.”

  Chapter 8

  Strong winds blew off her cloak’s hood as she and the herald approached the army’s front line. Walking through rows of soldiers holding pikes as they stood at attention between the tall wood watch towers terrified her, but she didn’t show it.

  Apollo was already there. Why had he left so suddenly? Their kiss had been amazing, for her at least. She’d felt special, cared for and wished for more. Kisses from Apollo were just what she needed before this.

  She shivered as she replaced the hood and held it close around her chin, from the cold and the circumstances. She hadn’t seen any member of her family in weeks and didn’t even know the fate of her siblings and mother. Not that she was sure she wanted to see her father.

  Aline had thought she, too, would travel to the chateau, but the herald raised a hand and went on alone. Apparently her presence among the French would suffice.

  This viewpoint offered a spectacular view of the formidable chateau. The vast stone structure built by Richard I with its many round towers sat high on a promontory overlooking the Seine. Siege machines called mangonels that had thrown rocks at the walls over and over had left pockmarks, but hadn’t caused a breach.