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Chapter Twenty
Vanni
“Be patient,” I insist. “She will gain us an audience.”
Christopher looks behind me as we finish our practice session. My men are impatient for news about Aldwine, especially now that he’s returned, and there’s no better way to pass the time than in training. Accepting challenges, honing our skills for the dark days ahead. Whether or not we return with the bastard king, I fear we will be called upon to fight for Meria’s future.
The widening of Christopher’s eyes tells me who stands at the entrance to the inn’s courtyard. “It seems your faith in her was not misplaced,” he says, leaving. “She is here.”
I gasp like an untrained lad when I turn to see her. Aedre has always dressed simply before, but not this eve.
She stands before me in a deep blue velvet gown lined in gold, her hair pulled away from her face with a simple gold circlet.
In a flash, I find myself envisioning her by my side at court.
None would rival her.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s staring back with an equal degree of intensity.
I walk toward her, feeling my body react to her presence. To her admiration. Aedre’s lips open, just slightly, her eyes trained on my bare chest.
“Pardon me, Lady Aedre.” I make for the wooden quintain and grab my shirt.
“You need not . . .”
Sheathing my sword, I pause for her to finish.
“. . . beg my pardon, for intruding on your practice.”
Smiling, I take a step toward her.
“I thought you might say I need not put this on.” I gesture to the shirt, which I then pull over my head.
She gives me a skeptical, weighing look—the same way she regarded me that very first day, when we met along the quay.
“I’ve seen men without their shirts on before.”
I glance around. Since we are alone, I decide to test her bravado.
“Aye?”
Another step toward her.
“Aye,” she says more firmly, so close now her lavender scent reaches me. I breathe it in, aching to reach out and touch her.
Closing the remaining distance between us, I pray Aedre will not be offended by my words. “And have you allowed many of those men you’ve seen as such to kiss you?” I search her eyes for the truth. “To taste your sweetness as I have done? To awaken something inside”—I venture a guess now—“that you’ve never felt before?”
A guess based on my own experience.
This . . . thing between us is unique. Even as I rebel against it, knowing my duty requires me to leave her—knowing also she would never wish to come to court with me—I cannot deny that.
“You are bold, sir.”
“And would be bolder still, would you allow it.”
“Is that so?”
It should not be so at all. But her eyes burn in a way that invites me to speak.
