He crushed his mouth over hers, but however much she loved him, doubts haunted her that her father would deny her request.
Clouds shrouded the moon, casting the bailey in a feeble light. With a heart heavy, Colyne continued toward the stables.
Bedamned this night.
Bedamned the king’s decision.
Bedamned that he didna have another choice.
Soft steps fell behind him and he turned.
Caught in a flicker of torchlight, Marie’s slender frame approached.
He stiffened. “Return to the keep.”
She halted, her stance fierce but her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I needed to see you.”
“After your father’s decision this night to deny my request for your hand, ’tis unwise for any to find us alone. Go.”
At his brisk order, that determined look he so loved hardened her face.
“Marie,” he pleaded as inside a part of him died, “you must leave. Please.”
In a flicker of moonlight, her eyes reflected her turmoil, anger, and grief.
A sword’s wrath! He wanted to kiss her, make love with her, and keep her forever. With the king’s refusal to break the betrothal, such a chance had ceased to exist.
To stand here with her a hand’s width away did naught but add to the enormity of their heartache. With ground-eating strides, Colyne entered the stables where he could be alone, to think, to somehow find a way to deal with the pain of losing Marie.
And wondered if he ever could.
How did one move past losing the woman who was the other half of his soul? A woman who made his life complete?
Wisps of distant torchlight fractured the dark confines as he moved deeper. The familiar smell of horses and hay offered a soothing balm, the blackness an escape.
The soft scuff of slippers fractured the silence in his wake.
Colyne braced himself against the emotions the sight of her would always evoke. He turned. “Marie, I—”
She ran to him. Before he could warn her away, her mouth pressed over his with passion.
He fought the urge to return the kiss. But at the raw desperation in her touch, he succumbed.
At her soft moans, Colyne skimmed his fingers down to pull her flush against him. His body burning, he backed her against the stall, took the kiss deeper. She shuddered beneath him.
A horse to their right snorted. Another toward the back of the stable shifted restlessly.
Shaken at how she could strip his control, Colyne pulled free, his breath unsteady, his body hard with unspent desire. What was he thinking? Anyone could come upon them. He shook his head. “Nay, ’tis wrong.”
“My father is mistaken not to end the betrothal,” she rushed out, passion clinging to her words.
“He is a king who loves his daughter but has his country’s interests to consider as well. Your betrothed is a powerful man.”
“And a man I do not want,” she said. “After you left, I begged, pleaded with him, but he refused to change his mind.” She sniffed. “It is you I love, you I need.”
As if he didna feel the same. The warmth of her tears stained his neck and melded with his own. For long moments he held her, savoring the feel of her body against his, the way her breath caressed his skin, how she brought peace to his heart.
After a long while, her sobs quieted.
