Valen left Hercules to graze amongst the scattered stones and led Elizabeth through the crumbling castle to the eastern curtain wall. He hoisted himself up onto the thick ledge and looked out over the vista. “Climb up. From here you can almost see the channel.”
She glanced skeptically at the worn stone ridge and muttered, “Ladies do not climb...”
He didn’t hear the rest. “Are you not the lass who spread her wings from the roof? Come. At the highest point, it is only five or six feet off the ground. Never mind, I’ll come and help you.”
A fatal mistake.
Valen leapt down, lifted her up onto a lower section, and then jumped up onto the wall beside her. Holding Elizabeth’s hand, he tread carefully across the precipice. She hesitated before every step, testing each stone for stability, her arm, stiff and tense, shook as she climbed higher.
“You’re trembling.” It surprised him that she of all people should she find this difficult.
Her gaze flitted briefly from the ground to his face. “Ever since that day...”
“Ah.” He nodded, contemplating the fact that although she’d dared to fly she’d also fallen. “Then I won’t press you to go any farther.” He steadied her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “If you can, look out at the horizon. There.” He pointed east in the direction of the sea.
The land sloped in series of swells and tables until, miles away, it met the water. He loved this place. When he was young he’d stared for hours at that distant sea, dreaming of the day he would sail away to the exotic places, places far away from the suffering of his parents.
“Perhaps if we sit, you will stop quaking.”
“I am not quaking.” Her relentless pride in the face of the obvious was a marvel.
“Of course not. Begging your pardon, I am the one nearly shaking the wall apart.”
“Very well, then. For your sake, I will sit.” She cautiously eased down onto the wall and seemed to breathe easier once she situated herself.
They dangled their legs over the precipice, gazing out over the lands below. She relaxed enough that he even saw her foot bounce contently.
“I must go back tomorrow.” He didn’t know why he brought it up now. But he wanted to make sure she knew he would be leaving her soon.
She bowed her head, studying the ground beneath them again. The little bounce in her foot stilled. “I thought you might.”
He had the ridiculous urge to gather her in his arms and reassure her. Naturally he didn’t succumb. “You will be safe here with my father. Perhaps you might do him some good.”
“It is my hope. Your aunt supplied me with some herbs that might help.”
He disliked hearing the bravado in her voice, the stalwart, chin-up tone he had come to recognize in her. He ignored it. “He will do well with your company.”
She left off searching the horizon and turned to him, suddenly earnest. “Promise you will be cautious hunting Merót? She placed her hand on the stone beside his, her fingers resting on his thumb. “Promise.”
He couldn’t ignore the pleading in her expression. The randy stallion inside him sniffed the air. God help him, she had some sort of bewitching power over him. One minuscule touch, one caring glance...
He tried to make light of her concern. “I am always cautious.”
A bold-faced lie. Rash came more readily to mind. After all, if he were the cautious sort, he wouldn’t be sitting here atop an old ruin alone with a woman who made his blood pound like war drums through his veins.
The stallion in him pawed at the ground, straining at the bit. What harm would there be if he kissed her?
What harm, indeed? He could think of a hundred reasons why it would be a reckless, foolhardy, and altogether stupid thing to do. Still, he would leave tomorrow and wouldn’t see her for who knew how long.
He growled low in his throat. Valen had no patience for long internal debates. He thrust the question into her hands. “I wish to kiss you.”
She put a hand to her breast and shook her head. “You are asking? How very out of character.”
What sort of reply was that? A challenge? A diversion? An evasive tactic? She would not escape so easily.
“And you, Elizabeth?” He didn’t touch her. Didn’t lean toward her mouth, but he did slowly peruse her lips. “Do you wish it?”
“I confess. I do not understand you, my lord.” She drew back, flustered, bristling. “One minute, you tell me that I am the antithesis of all you hold dear. And you declared it with considerable heat, I might add. And now? Now, you ask me if I wish to...” She stopped abruptly and stared at his mouth. Contemplating, he judged. “It is most confusing.”
“Hmm. Yes. It’s the wretched heat.” He allowed one side of his mouth to curl up in a sardonic grin. “Well, do you?”
“Do I what?” She cringed.
“You know perfectly well. Do you wish to kiss me?”
“The question itself is preposterous. After all your jibes, the insults, and lectures on the ignobility of my nobility—”
“Answer the question, Lady Elizabeth? Do you want me to, or not?”
“I don’t see that it matters.”
“Answer.”
“Why? So that you may chide me? Tell me what a poor example of virtue I am?”
“No. So that I may kiss you.”
“Do you mean to say you won’t if I say nay?”
“I make no promises.”
The breeze carried fine black strands of her hair and wrapped them around her cheek. Valen tucked them back behind her ear, gliding his fingertips across the smooth crest of her cheek. “Do you?” he whispered. Now he needed the answer as much as he needed to breathe. She had to want him. Had to! He couldn’t be the only one.
When she met his gaze, he had his answer. Clear blue
