Time to Love Again (24 page)

“Turpin may have hoped to make you reveal
some secret he could use to his own advantage.” Theu looked hard at
her. “Did he harm you in any way?”

“He did not.” Her answer was as assertive and
positive as she could make it. “Turpin’s fingertips barely touched
mine when he offered me a glass of wine. I believed then, and still
do, that he meant to frighten me by hinting that he wanted me, but
what he was really interested in was the content of my nonexistent
message to Charles. It was all unspoken threat.”

“And all Turpin’s doing,” Theu added.
“Hrulund would have tied you up and held his precious Durendal at
your throat while he openly demanded the answers he wanted. Turpin
is more subtle – and more clever. If you were to complain of what
he did, he would doubtless say he only offered you wine and
conversation and meant nothing more. He would claim you
misunderstood his intent, because you are a stranger in Francia and
unfamiliar with our ways.”

She could tell he was angry, and she was glad
she had said nothing about her meeting with Turpin until they were
well away from Tours.

“Promise me you won’t quarrel with Turpin
about this when you meet at Agen,” she begged. “He could be a
dangerous man.”

“Danger would not stop me,” he replied. “But
I will not carry a personal quarrel into the royal court, where
Charles would hear of it. No, I’ll say nothing to Turpin, but
neither will I forget what he has done to you – and to me.”

“Perhaps you ought to thank Hrulund,” she
said lightly, trying to counter the cold anger she heard in his
voice. “It was he who stopped whatever Turpin had planned for me,
by coming into the room too soon. Theu, is there no way for you to
call a truce with Hrulund?”

“I would be willing to engage in a friendly
competition for Charles’s favor. Such a contest would sharpen our
skills and make us both better warriors,” Theu told her.
“Unfortunately, Hrulund has not the wits to understand that
Charles’s heart is big enough to love all his friends. Hrulund
wants to be his only friend.”

“Marcion was right,” she said. “Hrulund is
jealous of you. Theu, about Spain—”

“We agreed not to speak of what you know,” he
reminded her.

“But it’s about Hrulund,” she persisted. “He
was – will be – responsible for—”

“It seems,” he said, “that where the subject
of Spain is concerned, there is only one way I can silence
you.”

He caught her face between his hands and
kissed her hard. She pushed at his chest, wanting to finish her
warning about Hrulund, but it was like pushing against the stone
garden wall. He was immovable. His lips caressed hers, and he
wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly while his tongue
sent moist flame across her mouth before he plunged it into her,
tormenting her with a highly erotic rhythm. Her anger at the way he
had treated her since leaving Tours evaporated. She forgot
everything but her love for him. She put her arms around his waist
and kissed him back until they were both breathless.

“Too many nights I’ve slept alone,” he said
when he had loosened his grip on her. “I suppose tonight will be no
exception. I think you are as well guarded as Danise.”

“We are to sleep in our hostess’s own
chamber,” India told him, “Sister Gertrude with the lady in her
bed, Danise and me on the trundle, and Clothilde on a pallet on the
floor.”

“I can have no hope of abducting you from
that army of watchful Amazons,” he said between a groan and a
laugh. “But I will find a way soon, I promise you.”

“I hope so,” she confessed. “I’ve missed you,
too.”

“Trust me. Please. It’s all I ask of you.”
His eyes held hers while he awaited her response, his arms still
around her.

“I do. I will,” she said. She caught her
breath, remembering the meaning of those words in her own time and
knowing she had just pledged herself to him, though he was unaware
of it.

“Now that the roaring in my brain has
lessened a bit,” he said, smiling, “I think I can hear Sister
Gertrude’s sweet voice. We had better rescue those children before
she catches them together. Pst! Hugo! Come here.”

To Hugo’s credit, he obeyed at once. Danise
was not far behind him on the path.

“We’ll go,” Theu said to India. “You walk
with Danise and exchange girlish confidences. I will find a way for
us to talk again soon.” He paused to kiss her quickly, then, after
peering out of the garden entrance to be sure their way was clear,
he and Hugo left.

He had been right, for from somewhere close
by, India could hear Sister Gertrude talking to their hostess.
India linked her arm through Danise’s, drawing the girl back along
the garden walk.

“Thank you for what you did,” Danise
whispered. “I am so happy. Hugo says he will return from Spain a
wealthy man, and when he does, he will ask my father to let us
marry.”

“I’m glad you are happy,” India said, her
heart a bitter lump in her bosom, for she feared Hugo’s plans would
never become reality.

“How good of Count Theuderic not to give us
away,” Danise went on. “I saw him kiss you. You see, I was not
mistaken – he does care for you. Would you marry him, if he asks
for you?”

India was spared the need to answer this
question by the appearance of Sister Gertrude and the lady of the
manor.

“What are you doing out in the cold night
air?” asked the nun. “You know it is unhealthy.”

“It was still daylight when we first came out
to the garden,” Danise replied. “We were talking and didn’t notice
how dark it has grown.”

“At least you removed yourselves from the
company of the men in the hall,” Sister Gertrude conceded. Still
talking while she led her charges away from the garden, she did not
notice the amused looks India and Danise exchanged, nor hear
Danise’s quickly smothered giggle.

They were well into Aquitaine, according to
Theu only a day or two from Agen, before he and India were able to
circumvent both Autar’s constant watchfulness of Theu and Sister
Gertrude’s sharp eye for India’s every action. After a long morning
in the saddle, they stopped beside a lake to rest and water their
horses and to eat a midday meal of the usual bread and cheese
washed down with wine grown slightly vinegary during their travels.
A little apart from the men, Sister Gertrude was arguing with
Clothilde about something and had drawn Danise into the
discussion.

Having allowed her mount to drink its fill,
India led it away from the water, looping the reins around the
branches of a bush so the horse could enjoy cropping the new grass
without wandering off while India ate. She had become fond of the
chestnut mare Theu had chosen for her and was patting its neck and
talking to it when Marcion came up to her. Behind him she saw Autar
looking annoyed, possibly because Theu had suddenly disappeared.
Marcion leaned one hand on her horse’s flank as if to examine the
animal’s legs, bending his head so Autar could not see or hear him
speak to her.

“Walk straight into the trees, then on to the
clearing,” he said softly.

“Autar,” called Hugo from some distance away,
“come here a moment, will you? I’d like your opinion.”

“Go now,” said Marcion, dropping his hand and
stepping away from the horse. He went to Autar, took him by the
arm, and began to lead him toward the waiting Hugo. Beyond the men,
Sister Gertrude still held forth to Danise and Clothilde.

India wasted no time in following Marcion’s
directions. She plunged into the trees, which grew so thickly and
with so much underbrush that for a while she feared she would be
permanently lost. But she pressed forward, sensing a thinning of
growth ahead, and before much longer she emerged from the trees
into an open space that contained a tumbledown shack set in an
overgrown field long unfarmed.

As she had expected, Theu was waiting for
her. Forgetting everything except that she loved him, she flew into
his arms, letting him crush her against his chain mail, not caring
if his embrace bruised her. All that mattered was his mouth on
hers, his warm strength surrounding her.

“I’ve missed you, missed you,” she cried,
moaning when he bent to kiss her throat and put his hands on her
breasts.

“We haven’t much time,” he said, pulling away
from her. “I told Marcion and Hugo that I wanted to talk with you
in private. They will keep Autar occupied for as long as they can,
but he’s remarkably single-minded and he’ll soon begin to search
for us. India, wait, I can’t let you go now that I have you to
myself.” He drew her back into his arms, kissing her cheek and her
forehead.

“Should we be doing this if Autar is likely
to appear? Or Sister Gertrude?” she asked in a breathless
voice.

“I need to hold you for just a while, because
I can’t bear to look at you without touching you,” he said, his
arms tightening about her, “and because I must tell you what I
began to understand at Tours, when Hrulund spoke so slightingly of
women. As I listened to his cold words, I knew that I could never
close my heart as he has done. I have broken the oath I once made
to myself. I swore I would never love again, but you have found a
place in my heart and I cannot remove you, no matter how I try. Our
quarrel over what happened at Tours, and our separation for so many
nights, have proven to me how much I love you. Once I swore never
to say those words again, but now I cannot help myself. Whatever
happens, to you or to me, know that I will love you through all
time.”

“Oh, my love.” Almost in tears from the joy
his declaration brought her, she touched his face with both her
hands, caressing his strong bones, outlining his fine mouth with
tender fingers. “I remember the odd way you looked at me at Tours.
I thought you were angry.” Winding her arms around his neck, she
kissed him. “Make love to me, Theu.”

“Truly, my dearest, I meant only to talk to
you, to tell you what is in my heart. I would not hurt you, so I
cannot lie on you while I’m wearing chain mail. Once, in Saxony, I
wore it as a barrier between us, to keep myself safe from you. Now
it prevents me from holding you as I would wish.” But even as he
spoke he was drawing her downward.

“It need not keep us apart. I will lie on
you,” she told him, sinking to her knees with him, watching him
unbuckle the belt that held his sword so he could lay the weapon
aside.

They knelt together on the soft spring grass,
arms around each other during a long, deep kiss. His tongue probed
the depths of her mouth while his hands searched beneath her tunic,
releasing the fastening of her trousers so he could push them away
and touch the smooth skin of her thighs.

“You can’t stop now,” she whispered.

“This isn’t the way I want you,” he groaned,
though he continued to stroke her back and her hips. “Not half
clothed and hurried, as if we were doing something wrong. I want
you to lie beside me all night, with nothing between us, just your
sweet skin against mine and all the time we need to find our
deepest joy.”

“If this is all the time we have,” she told
him with remarkable logic considering the pounding of her heart and
the way heat was sweeping along her body in response to the
constant motion of his hands on her, “then I’ll accept this kind of
lovemaking and be grateful for it and not ask for more. So long as
it is you who holds me, who enters me and drives me wild with love
and longing, I will be happy.”

Giving him no time to argue the sanity of
what they were doing when they might be discovered at any moment,
she kicked off her boots and tossed aside her trousers.

“How can I resist you when your need is as
great as mine?” he asked, pulling at the cord that fastened his own
trousers. He pushed them downward in a swift motion, then lay back
on the grass, lifting his tunic and chain mail up to his waist,
exposing himself for her. He reached out to pull her to him, but
she was already kneeling at his side. In the warm early April
sunshine she bent to kiss the upward-flaring evidence of his need
for her and ran her tongue around its velvet-soft tip.

“No, wait, my dear love. You’ll drive me
mad.” He caught her shoulders, forcing her to lie across his chest
so he could kiss her mouth with all the frustrated, yearning
passion of all the nights since their last night together at
Aachen. Even now, even constrained by lack of time and the fear
that they might be discovered, his male pride would not allow her
to be the dominant partner. Not yet, not until the last possible
moment. His hands moved over her hips and thighs, swiftly,
urgently, and from the gathering storm inside herself, she knew he
could not wait much longer. His fingers brushed between her thighs.
Involuntarily she moved against him, then realized he was only
unfastening the bottom of her teddy so he could move the fabric out
of his way. He held her face tight for one more near-violent kiss,
then tore his mouth from hers.

“Now,” he gasped. “Right now. This
moment.”

His strong hands grasped her hips, lifting
her, then sitting her on top of him so that he entered her in the
hard, quick motion she had learned to anticipate with delight.

And then it was her turn. She felt him dig
his heels into the ground to push his hips upward. He had finally
relinquished control of their love-making to her, and she relished
her position. She drew her hands along his body, enjoying the
contrasting sensations of cold chain mail and hot skin. She leaned
over him, kissing him on the mouth once more just before she began
to ride him like a great, beautiful animal, riding harder and
harder. He filled her with his bold masculine strength, filled her
more completely with each movement of their bodies until she cried
out her wild, exultant passion and then bit her lips together lest
someone should hear and interrupt them, for she knew she would die
if they were separated now. And at the end, when he had groaned and
called her name over and over through an aching, prolonged ecstasy,
when her head was spinning and her eyes were unfocused, he half sat
up to wind his hands into her hair, to hold her close and kiss her
and cradle her head on his shoulder until the tremors convulsing
her had ceased and she collapsed, gasping and sobbing, against him,
feeling him relax against the earth.