Free The Honor Due a King by N. Gemini Sasson

at all beyond friendship?
    “He’s convinced Robert to let him conquer Ireland and claim it as his own. But he won’t be content with that. Do not cross him, James. And if you can’t support him, stay out of his way.”
    Voices struck up again somewhere. They were far away and not coming any nearer, but at once she pulled me into the chapel and closed the door. Candlelight danced across her features, painting every line and surface around us in molten gold. A small altar, draped with a cloth of red silk embroidered in silver thread, stood at the far end of the tiny room, but I felt no calling to go toward it and commune with the Holy Spirit. I could only stand there and gaze at her – flesh and blood within my reach – wanting to ask her a thousand questions. In the end, I could only dare one:
    “Why have you confided this to me?”
    The narrow space between her eyebrows creased in bewilderment. She drew back and spun toward the altar. “Is it not plain? Oh, James, how can you be so ... so daft ?”
    I moved to stand behind her, close enough that I could have put my arms around her. Over her slight shoulder, I said, “I could guess a hundred things, but it would save time if you would say it outright.”
    She kneaded at her skirts, chin lowered toward her breast. “Because it is you I love.”
    How I wanted to lay my hands on her, turn her by the waist and pull her into my arms. Before Dalry, she had ridden mile after mile on the back of my saddle, her arms wrapped about me and her head resting on my back. I had known her touch well then, but differently. I was her protector, her guide and escort. She had returned a lady of marriageable age, in full womanly bloom, and that small seed of affection that we had nurtured for one another had somehow in a drastically short time sprouted and taken root. I had imagined nothing after all. But still ... it was maddening. I began to mull over Edward’s advice: ‘Wait till after she’s married.’
    She went to the altar and leaned against it. Wringing her hands, she brought them to her lips, as though she were about to pray.
    “Haven’t you anything to say? Anything at all?” Marjorie paused a few seconds before turning back to me. “How can you just stand there, looking at me like that?”
    I shook my head, sorting through a flood of thoughts, feelings and urges. “I don’t know what to say or –”
    “Say that you love me. Or say that you hate me. Say that I am nothing but a confused little girl with her head in the clouds who ought to do what her father tells her.” She wrapped herself in her own arms, as if to contain her troubles. “Walter is like a brother to me. I would not hurt him for the world, but I don’t love him. I want to be with you. I always have. The very first time I saw you, when you came to look for my father at Lochmaben, I knew there was something about you, something that drew me to you. And I swear unto God that I have no wish to marry Walter and yet ... yet I am told this is what I must do – for Scotland. Even though I care not one whit for thrones or who sits upon them. All because of some pact made long ago with Walter’s father. If my choice is to be taken from me then I wish my father had never become king. I wish ... I wish that you and I needn’t care about what anyone else thought or said – that we could just run from here, together, and be alone for once.”
    The light from flickering wicks glowed behind her, outlining each subtle curve. The tight tendrils of her hair crowned an angelic face with trembling lips.
    “We’re alone,” I said, “now.”
    Her hands fell to her sides. “Then say something .”
    I went to her and took her hands in mine. Gently, I pulled her to me. “Why say anything at all?”
    And I kissed her.
    ***
    T he touch of her lips sent a wave of passion pulsing through every limb of my being. I kissed her harder. Her hands fluttered over my upper arms, up around my neck, tickling the hairs there.