The Dark Knight (36 page)

By midafternoon both the weather and Dante obliged her wishes when the sun reappeared and the road dried enough for them to ride side by side. At first she was apprehensive,
almost shy in his company, but mostly they spoke of inconsequential things.

“Will you miss Coleway?”

She pursed her lips as she considered her answer. “I am not sorry to be away from John, but I will miss some of the people.”

They had already talked about her childhood and his, and events that had occurred in their lives before they met. They also spoke about things that took place in the immediate present, such as speculation about a fortress they passed where the fieldstones were laid out on a hillside to form a gigantic cross, and then there was a thorough discussion of the weather. She could tell that he was deliberately avoiding anything that might lead to talk of his deception or speculation about their future. It was midafternoon and she was tired of avoiding the subjects.

“I’m not sorry to be away from the Segraves, either,” she said, “but I am worried they will lay siege to my father’s fortress. Faulke threatened as much, if I tried to cause trouble. I suppose he was hoping to ensure that I would be agreeable when we stood before a priest, but I do not think it is an idle threat. If he and I do not marry—”

“You will not marry him,” Dante said in a clipped voice. “As for a siege, the Segraves would be fools to deplete their ranks when they may soon face the king’s armies. Faulke Segrave does not strike me as a fool. ’Tis an unlikely outcome.”

She wished she could be as certain.

“What are you thinking?”

She looked up at him, startled. “Pardon me?”

“I know that look.” His gaze narrowed as he studied her face and she had to admit the effect was forbidding. “Do not ever think that marriage to Segrave would help
your father in any way. Do not think that staying with me will be a betrayal to your family. The king placed you in my care, and your father and Segrave are both the king’s vassals. You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

She blinked very slowly as his words struck home. He was right. Faulke Segrave’s wishes no longer mattered, nor did those of her father. The king’s word was law. She
was
exactly where she was supposed to be. If she were entirely honest with herself, she was exactly where she
wanted
to be.

“What now?” Dante asked. His stern expression had faded to a mixture of concern and exasperation.

She couldn’t tell him. She wasn’t certain how to put it into words. Instead she smiled and said, “Tell me more about Venice.”

He looked at her for a long time, and then the corners of his mouth curved into an answering smile and he did as she asked.

He did not ask her to declare herself outright, but they both knew that she had decided to go with him to Italy, just as they both knew it had never really been much of a choice. She could not stay in England. No matter his reasons, he was offering her freedom; the sunlit delights of Venice versus the dark eternity of the Tower. The decision was a simple one.

This time she listened closely to his descriptions of Venice. There was a difference to hearing tales of a city when there was the possibility that you might actually see it someday soon. She asked endless questions about the city that suddenly loomed in her future. He patiently answered each one.

Eventually she suspected his endless stories were told to keep her mind from wandering toward other worries. Indeed, she found plenty of reasons to fret during their
infrequent silences. Despite her decision, so much was still in turmoil: her life, her heart, her future. She had been raised to obey the wishes of her family without question, to expect marriage and a family of her own. Everything she contemplated with Dante went against those edicts. Could she really live in sin with a man for the rest of her life? What would happen when he tired of her?

Those were the questions that had occupied the majority of her thoughts until late afternoon when they rode single file up a steep embankment where rain had washed deep ruts into the hillside. He had told her to wait at the base of the hill until he made certain the footing was solid and she watched until he reined in his horse at the top of the rise. Eventually he turned to look down at her and flashed a smile that made her heart skip a beat, and then he beckoned her toward him with a crook of his finger.

The gesture shouldn’t have been anything momentous. He was simply signaling to her that the footing was safe. But that was the moment she cut the last of her ties to her old life, the ties to all of the old rules that kept her from moving forward. He was calling her to a new life with new rules. She was ready to join him.

A life with Dante might last a day, or a month, or many years, but there was no longer any doubt that her future included him, no matter the circumstances, no matter the consequences. For the first time in her life she was going to do exactly as she pleased, consequences be damned. Even if they rode through the gates of London and he took her straight to the Tower, she would not regret the decision to let herself hope. He could be standing at the gates of Hell and beckoning her toward him, and she would willingly follow. She no longer had a
choice. She had fallen in love with Sir Percival. She was still in love with Dante Chiavari.

Rather than dwell on all the things that could go wrong with her decision, she allowed herself to consider, just for a few moments, what their future together might be like if everything went right. London would be but one adventure. She could not imagine this experience with anyone else at her side. Once they reached Venice, he spoke as if he intended to live with her. She would stay by his side for as long as he wanted her.

She studied each individual feature of his face as he told her something about the docks in London, her gaze lingering, memorizing the arch of his brows, the straight line of his nose, the square line of his jaw. The way he smiled at her every so often made her certain her cow-eyed expression must look silly to him. She didn’t care. She had this time with him, and, for the time being, he was hers.

“You will not see those parts of London.” What was that? She had missed something. “What parts?”

“The docks and the stews. They are not safe places for gentlewomen.” He pushed a lock of hair off his forehead and looked toward the horizon. “Unfortunately, I can say the same about most of London, where you are concerned. The fewer who know of your presence there, the better.”

“Surely you will have to tell the king,” she pointed out. It was a sobering thought. “Edward may well deny your request, and you will be obliged to surrender me to his custody. As my father’s liege lord, he has the right to appoint himself my guardian.”

“I will not surrender you to anyone.”

The things he said never ceased to astonish her. She shook her head. “You would defy the king of England?”

“Aye.” He easily read the disbelief on her face. “I will never again allow anyone to take you from me.”

The look in his eyes was intense. He meant what he said. She smiled and attempted to lighten the mood. “If I should ever again be in need of rescue, I would request that you not use poison. My head and stomach ached all the next day.”

“And I would request that you not do anything that would purposely put yourself in need of rescue.” He searched her face for something, but there was nothing to find but agreement. She had no intention of doing anything stupid, but his next words managed to startle her yet again. “I will not always be … rational where your safety is concerned. I cannot guarantee that I will remain levelheaded if I discover you are in danger. When I found you with the Segraves, I very nearly made mistakes that would have gotten us both killed. My life now depends upon yours.”

It took her a moment to realize what he was really saying, and even less time to dismiss it.

“I wish there were some way to
make
you believe me, to make you trust me again.” Apparently he was becoming an expert at reading her expressions.

“I do believe you,” she said. “I trust you to keep me safe.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “but you do not believe that I am in love with you.”

Shock and astonishment were too tame. No, the things he said left her speechless.

“Surely you guessed,” he said. His wry smile belied the careful look in his eyes. “Or are all men so besotted in your presence that you no longer recognize the ailment?”

“Men are never besotted in my presence,” she muttered, retreating into disbelief while that fickle fellow,
Hope, fluttered around her heart without permission, searching for a way in.

“
Gesù
, Avalene, you are dangerously unaware of your appeal to men. Has
no one
ever told you how beautiful you are?”

She rolled her eyes. Aside from her parents, who were expected to say such things, no one else had ever called her beautiful.

Still, there seemed to be little reason for him to lie at this point. She had admitted that he could seduce her, that he would not have to force her to his bed, and yet he continued to make these fantastical statements. What if he really was in love with her?

Once again he seemed to read her mind and provided the answer. “I have fallen under your spell, my lady. I cannot imagine living my life without you. Those would be the most obvious reasons why I want to take you with me to Venice.”

Hope began to pound its fist against her chest. “What are the other reasons?”

“Will you believe me if I tell you?”

“I—” She decided on honesty. “I do not know.”

“Fair enough,” he reluctantly conceded, although he did not immediately continue. His hand swept out to indicate the hillsides that surrounded them. “This is not the setting I envisioned for this conversation. I had hoped for a candlelit chamber with a few goblets of wine at hand to fortify my courage.”

He did not look particularly fearful. The lock of hair had fallen across his forehead again, framing his handsome face. A slight smile emphasized the strong line of his jaw and his expression would have reeked of self-confidence at any other time, but the smile did not warm his eyes; they were a piercing shade of green, alert and watchful. “I cannot imagine you afraid of anything.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “I have spent the whole of my life controlling my emotions and desires. They are potent weapons against a man in my profession. Now I must hand you these weapons and lay bare my neck, so to speak. I would rather face all of the Segraves unarmed. At least then I would know what I was about.”

Her back stiffened. “You do not have to tell me anything against your will, but whatever you confide I will not repeat.”

“I doubt anyone would believe you if you did,” he murmured. “Which is yet another reason why I want you with me. I never speak this freely with anyone else. You have some mysterious power that puts me at ease.”

“Is that why you were being so … talkative the past few days? Telling me about Venice and London?”

“Partly,” he said, seeming to consider his words. “I wanted to tell you about my homeland, make it a real place to you. A place you would want to go. I also wanted to hear more about your life before I met you. My curiosity about you is insatiable, it seems.”

“I feel the same,” she admitted. She didn’t know if it was the ease with which she had spoken to him all day, or the fact that her heart was once again ready to take up residence on her sleeve, but she actually
wanted
to reveal more of her feelings to him.

No, she just wanted to gauge his reactions, to find the lie. Didn’t she?

She decided to tell him a little more of the truth to see where it led to. “I never spend this much time in idle conversation with anyone else. Not willingly. Definitely, I never tell them as much as I have already shared with you. Most people bore or annoy me with their chatter. I can never imagine being bored by you.”

“You see how well matched we are?” He smiled at
her, the smile that made her bones melt. “You are the only person I know who finds me so interesting.”

He was beginning to make her believe and that frightened her almost as much as the Tower. “I wonder how you can find
me
interesting. Until you came into my life, my days were so normal they were dull. My whole existence was dull. No one found me the least bit out of the ordinary.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “I would have found you just as remarkable then as I do now. You will always be a source of fascination for me.”

Always? She wondered if that word held the same meaning for him as it did for her. How could they be together “always”? “You realize that the king has most likely approved my betrothal to Faulke Segrave by this time?”

“Where did that come from?” he asked with a sudden scowl.

“You said ‘always’ as if you plan to … be with me for quite a while.” She lowered her gaze and brushed at a spot of dirt on her skirts. Good-bye, hope. “Segrave is convinced the king will approve the betrothal, in part as a means to keep me from marrying anyone else. I could never be more to you than … than …”

His grip on the reins tightened enough that his horse tossed its head. “You can be everything to me, Avalene. I do not need a priest’s blessing to know that you are mine. I have never felt this way about another woman, and I know that I never will again. You are all that I need. Am I enough for you?”

She could not help but smile. “What a foolish question.”

The intensity in his eyes did not lighten. “I have declared my love for you, declared my fondest hope that you will let me care for you for the rest of your life. All
you have said is that you doubt the truth of my words. Where do I stand, Avalene? Am I like Segrave, simply a means to escape a less pleasant fate?”

“You are not,” she retorted. Was it possible that he doubted her feelings as much as she doubted his? Didn’t he understand the impossibility of what he was asking her to believe? She stared at the perfect lines of his face, bewildered that he could look at her and find something even a fraction as desirable. “You are the fate that I am afraid to let myself hope will be mine.”