Free To Be Queen by Christy English Page B

away from me, and I walked on, though every sinew in my body cried out to stay with him, and to leave Louis forgotten. But Louis could never be forgotten. Baron Rancon was beautiful, but I could not have him, that night or ever.
    The great cathedral my grandfather had constructed stood a short walk from my father’s keep. I entered quietly, hiding myself within the shadows of the church. No one else was there save for Louis and two of his men. Both of his guards slept, but my husband-to-be knelt before the altar, his head bowed, his hands clasped. I watched the play of the lamplight across the blond brightness of his hair.
    I left Amaria guarded by Bardonne in the shadows behind me, and went to kneel beside him.
    Louis did not sense my presence at once, so deep was he in his devotions. I was fascinated. Never before had I seen a man who prayed in truth and not for show. I felt humbled in his presence, though I believed in nothing that he prayed to. His silent reverence called to me. I wondered if someday he might be as devoted to me.
    I moved and my silk gown rustled. Louis crossed himself, then turned to me, his blue eyes meeting mine in the dimness of that church.
    â€œYou came,” he said.
    â€œI am here,” I answered.
    â€œI waited,” he said, “hoping you would come.”
    His generous lips stilled; his voice fell silent. I watched his mouth, waiting to see if he might speak again.
    When he did not, I leaned close to him, and pressed my lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, an offering of sorts, a question. I was not sure what the answer was. Neither, it seemed, was he.
    Louis’ lips were soft beneath mine. He did not respond, nor did he touch me. He stayed as still as stone, though I could hear his breath catch, and then quicken.
    I drew back from him. Louis’ eyes were still closed. He seemed to realize only then that I had pulled away. His blue eyes flew open, and his gaze rested on me.
    â€œForgive me, my lady.”
    I thought at first he apologized for not taking me in his arms. I wondered if perhaps he was shy, for his men were awake now, and Amaria and my own man stood watching.
    â€œI have sinned,” he said. “I have kissed you in the house of God.”
    I smiled, thinking that perhaps he was joking. “No, my lord king. It is I who kissed you.”
    He flushed, and his pale cheeks turned red. I watched the blood rise beneath his skin, and was reminded once more of a shy maid. I told myself that he had been raised in a church. He had not always known his destiny, as I had always known mine.
    Louis did not speak. I rose to my feet and offered him my hand. I watched him hesitate. He seemed tempted, and I wondered if he did not want to lean on a woman to help him stand. Then he spoke.
    â€œI must pray a little longer, my lady. I must ask forgiveness, and seek absolution from my confessor.”
    A man in black stepped out from behind the altar then, and I recoiled instinctively. It was Brother Francis, the lead priest in Louis’ entourage, the man who had accepted the gift of fruit from my table with a smile earlier that night, as if tribute from a duchess were his due.
    Louis’ priest smiled at me, a calculating smile that seemed to speculate on what he might gain from catching me alone with the heir of France. I saw that I would have to send this one a bag of gold on the morrow, to buy his silence.
    I bowed to Francis, knowing him for the first time as an enemy. I pushed the priest from my mind, as I had pushed the Baron Rancon from my mind half an hour before.
    I focused on the young king at my side, on the man who would be my husband.
    â€œDo sleep sometime tonight, my lord king. Tomorrow, we ride out on a hunt.”
    Louis turned pale at my words. I thought for a moment he was afraid to hunt with me, but he swallowed hard and nodded. “As you say, my lady. Until tomorrow.”
    I curtsied to him, and moved to go. I expected to feel my