Читать книгу Royal Weddings - Joan Elliott Pickart, Christine Rimmer - Страница 14

Chapter Eight

By tacit agreement, there was silence between them.

Hauk went where she went within the apartment. In the living room, she sat on the couch and he sat in the easy chair. She read—or she tried to read, though she continually lost her place and had to go back and reread whole passages to have any idea what she was reading about. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time—or so it seemed.

But then, when she couldn’t stand it a moment longer and glanced up, he would be looking not at her, but beyond her, into the distance. His body would be so very still and straight. She would stare at his chest, wondering if he was even breathing.

Eventually, he’d draw himself back from whatever distant meditative state he’d put himself in. He’d meet her eyes.

And she’d know that he had been there all the time, watching—and yet not watching. Across the room from her. And a million miles away.

Around five, she gave up on her book and went into the spare room. She tried to pretend Hauk wasn’t sitting on the futon behind her as she paid a few bills to get them out of the way and answered a few last e-mails, then put her various listserves on No-mail.

By seven or so, she was starting to get that frantic feeling—that feeling that if they remained alone in her apartment, just the two of them, for much longer, she would do something unforgivable.

Start screaming like a maniac. Start throwing things—favorite figurines, a lamp or two.

Climb him like a big tree, grab him close and kiss him, force him to put aside everything he believed in and make love with her.

Oh, how had this happened? How had this gone so dangerously far so very, very fast?

She honestly wasn’t some sex maniac. Okay, she wasn’t a virgin—but she was no wild thing, either.

Serious relationships? She’d had a few—well, if you included her two high-school boyfriends. One in sophomore year and one when she was a senior. At the time, she’d been certain she would love each of those boys forever and ever. But she’d grown up and so had they.

Surely this crazy attraction to Hauk was like her schoolgirl crushes—destined to flare high and hot and then, soon enough, fade away. It was the lure of the forbidden. And they’d both get over it.

Maybe he was right. She should throw some stuff in her suitcase and tell him she was finally ready to head for Gullandria.

But somewhere deep inside, she had a true stubborn streak. She wasn’t leaving until she had to leave and she didn’t have to leave until tomorrow. She shoved the chicken she’d never gotten around to roasting into the freezer and told Hauk they were going out for dinner.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything. He kept his sculpted mouth shut and his expression closed against her, as he’d been doing for hours by then.

She took him to a restaurant over in Old Sacramento, where the food was excellent and so was the service. The steward brought the wine list. She waved it away.

Yes, a glass of wine or two would have soothed her frayed nerves right then. But she couldn’t afford to be soothed. When they went to bed tonight, she would need all her inhibitions firmly in place—and not because she feared that Hauk might make a move on her. He had way too much self-control to do that.

No, he wasn’t the one she was worried about. It was herself. She would need to fight her own wayward, hungry heart and her yearning body, too, if she planned to get through the whole night without doing something they would both later regret.

Hauk spoke with the waiter briefly but politely. He didn’t speak to Elli, not the whole time they sat at that table. Anyone watching them probably would have guessed that they’d either been forced against their will to share a meal—or they were locked in some private battle, some intimate tiff, and currently refusing to speak to each other. Both speculations would have been right on the money.

Too soon, the meal was finished. It was only 8:15. She didn’t want to go back to her apartment, not yet. She wanted it to be late—after midnight at least, when they got there. She wanted to be really, really tired.

But every nerve she had was humming. She felt as if sleeping was something she would never do again. And she’d made the mistake of drinking two glasses of water with her meal.

She had to use the ladies’ room.

Hauk stood outside in the hall. She hoped it embarrassed him, to lurk there by the ladies’-room door. She used the facilities and she washed her hands, glancing now and then at her unhappy face in the wide mirror above the sink.

She was blowing her hands dry when the small window over the center stall caught her eye. It was a single pane of pebbled glass, roughly a foot and a half on each side, hinged at the top. To open it, you undid the latch and pushed it outward.

She was reasonably certain there would be an alley on the other side. It wouldn’t be that difficult to hoist herself up there, to slither through it and…

What? Run away? Go into hiding and terrify her mother and Hilda and her sisters, too? Go to the police? Tell them that her father was having her kidnapped and she needed protection?

After they sorted it all out, they might even believe her. And just maybe they’d be able to protect her. It was a good chance, with all the publicity that would ensue, with her face and the faces of everyone in her family splashed all over the tabloids, that her father would back off, give up on whatever scheme he was hatching.

Hauk would be disgraced for letting her get away. And she would stay right here, in Sacramento, where she belonged. She would not see Gullandria—or her father, after all. And she would never see Hauk again.

The dryer had turned itself off. The ladies’ room seemed very quiet.

Behind her, the door to the hallway swung open. She turned. It was Hauk. He looked at her and he looked at the window above the center stall and then at her again.

‘‘So all right,’’ she muttered. ‘‘I was tempted. But notice I’m still here.’’

‘‘Ahem. Do you mind?’’ A short, cute redheaded woman had appeared in the open doorway beside Hauk. She craned her neck to look up at him. ‘‘Read the sign on the door. Ladies. That is so not you.’’

Hauk retreated and the redhead came forward. The door closed with him out in the hall. The redhead pretended to fan herself. ‘‘Is that yours? Oh, my, my…’’

Elli let a smile answer for her. She hooked her purse over her shoulder and went out to join her jailer.

Out in the parking lot, the attendant brought her car. She tipped him and got behind the wheel. Hauk hunched himself down into the passenger seat.

Elli drove—out of Old Sac, out of town, beyond the city lights.

More than once, she felt Hauk’s brooding gaze on her. She knew he was wondering where they were going. But he didn’t ask.

Which was just as well, since she didn’t know, anyway. She held the wheel and watched the road ahead and kept on driving.

They ended up on the river road, rolling through a string of sleepy little one-stoplight towns. When she was in her teens, she and her sisters and their friends—or sometimes she and one of those two boys she’d thought she loved so much—would come out here.

With a boyfriend, she’d end up parked by the levee, in the shadows of the cottonwood trees, kissing until her lips hurt, moaning and sighing and declaring undying love—all, of course, without going all the way.

Back then, Elli and her sisters would talk about sex all the time. They were young and they were curious about all the new and bewildering yearnings their bodies could feel. They had one girlfriend who’d gotten pregnant and had to leave school. And another who had tested positive for HIV.

Sex was so tempting. And yet they understood it could also be dangerous, that it had consequences, serious ones. They had formed a pact, the three of them. They called themselves the NATWC—the Never All the Way Club. Whenever one of them would go off to be alone with a boy, a sister was always somewhere nearby to raise a fist in the air and announce with pride, ‘‘NATWC!’’

It had worked. They all three remained full-fledged members of the NATWC—at least until college and then…

Well, even triplets, at some point, have to make their own decisions about love and sex and how far to go.

Elli made a turn, toward the river. She parked beneath a cottonwood and she got out and climbed the levee. Hauk, of course, got out, too. He followed in her wake, a shadow—always with her, never speaking.

The mosquitoes were still out. As usual, they found her delicious. She slapped at them now and then. Sometimes she got them—and sometimes not. The ground beneath her sandals was soft. The wild grasses, still moist and green in early May, brushed at her ankles as she climbed.

She reached the crest of the levee. It stretched out, a wide path, in either direction. Below, by the light of the fading last-quarter moon, the river looked dark and oily, flowing easily along. There were dangers, beneath the surface. Swirling currents. Undertows.

But from here, it looked so serene and slow. Hauk stood beside her. As usual, he made no sound. She couldn’t even hear him breathing.

She turned in the opposite direction and started walking. He came along behind her, but several yards back, as if he wanted to give her as much space, as much leeway, as he could and still follow the orders he’d been given by his king.

She stopped. Looked at her watch. Ten o’clock.

Hauk came up beside her. She sent him a sad smile. ‘‘I know. It’s not your fault. None of this. You can’t be who you are and behave any differently.’’

He said nothing. He stared out over the smooth-moving water.

‘‘Come on,’’ she said. ‘‘We’ll go back now.’’

When they got to her apartment, the princess wanted a bath. She asked nicely for an hour to herself in the bathroom.

Hauk wanted to shout No. He wanted to order her to come with him. Now. Out of here, to the airport, to the jet that awaited her.

But he’d demanded that they leave so many times already. She always refused. And then there was nothing more he could do. He had no rights here. He was to wait and to watch. And then tomorrow, if she continued to balk, he was to use force to see that she went where she’d agreed to go.

In answer to her request for time alone in the bath, he gave her a grunt and a shrug. He wasn’t talking to her, hadn’t for hours now. Talking to her only led to trouble.

She was too good with that mouth of hers. Whenever he let himself engage in discourse with her, she always got him thinking things he knew he shouldn’t let himself think. She would lure him close to doubting the wisdom of his own king, to questioning the way things were and had always been.

And beyond the dangerous questions she had him asking himself, there was that other problem, the one that kept getting worse: the way she roused him, as a man. Whenever she spoke, he would watch her full lips moving and wonder what else she could do with that soft mouth and that clever tongue.

She went into her bathroom and he turned for the guest bath. He emptied his bladder, washed his hands and cleaned his teeth. He returned to her bedroom and rolled out his bedding. And then he stood, waiting, all too aware of the scented moistness of the air, constantly turning his mind from the light beneath the bathroom door, from images of her, naked. Wet. That wheat-colored hair curling and damp from the steam that rose upward off the warm water…

By Odin’s one eye, he was doing it again.

He ordered his mind off the thought of her, naked.

He pondered the morning, when her time for stalling, for lingering here, would run out. Would she force him to bind her and gag her again, to toss her over his shoulder and carry her out of here as he’d started to do two days and a lifetime ago?

And the larger question: Would he do it if she did?

That he even asked himself that question spoke volumes about what was happening to him. Something had shifted—inside him. Something had changed. Something in his very self, in who he was.

He’d earned, over time, an inner contentment. Born from high stock, but a bastard, he’d been cast down. Both his mother and his father had past kings in their lineage. Had his mother agreed to marry his father, as a child of two old and powerful families, he would have been high jarl. Had his parents been married, he could now look at Princess Elli eye-to-eye. Even should her father have plans to marry her to another, Hauk would still be her equal, he could still court her. He would have a chance at her hand.

But though his mother succumbed to her passion for his father, she would not marry. She was kvina soldar: a woman warrior. If she married, she would have been forced to give up her warrior status. For a wife to be a warrior was not done. And, as a result, she condemned her son to start from less than nothing.

A warrior’s training was brutal. But Hauk had been born with his father’s size and his mother’s natural physical skill. He’d fought his way forward to the front of the pack. In recent years, he’d thought that he could see his future and that it was good. He’d believed he brought honor to his bastard name.

He had eight more years in the king’s service, and then, when his commission was up, there would be money enough. He’d ask a good woman, one only slightly above him—legitimate and jarl, but low jarl, from an unimportant family, a family only a generation or two up from freeman—to marry him.

And his sons and daughters would have a better start, a better chance than he’d had. Thus, the error of one generation found correction in the next. It had all seemed fitting. Right. Good.

Until now.

Until he’d been sent to kidnap the king’s daughter.

And ended up trailing after her wherever she went, looking into those deep-blue eyes, listening to that warm, musical voice. Sitting beside her in a darkened theater, across from her at her own table—and in that restaurant tonight…

There had been a candle on the table tonight. In the warm light, her skin had glowed, soft as the petal of some rare pink rose. He had sat and stared and admired up close what such as he should never see except from a careful, formal distance.

It was all a mistake. A huge one, an error in judgment on the part of his king. His king had trusted him.

And no matter that Hauk had yet to touch the woman intimately—would never touch the woman intimately—he had betrayed that trust in his heart and his mind.

Betrayed his king. And thus, betrayed the man he had always believed himself to be.

The door to the bathroom opened. The princess emerged wearing the big pink shirt she liked to sleep in. A cloud of sweet steam came out with her. Her face had a clean, scrubbed shine to it. Her hair was slightly damp at the temples, little tendrils of it curling along her soft, moist cheeks.

Desire was a lance, turning in his flesh, twisting ever deeper.

If only she had never dared to speak of it—to talk of it so calmly, in her easy American way. Her words had seared themselves into his brain.

It’s an… attraction, that’s all. It happens between men and women. It’s natural. We don’t have to act on it. And if we did—which we won’t—it would be nobody’s business but yours and mine….

She had him thinking, oh yes, she did. Thinking that to have her would be worth everything—his commission, his pride. Possibly even his freedom and his life. Just one night, to touch her everywhere, to put his mouth on all her most secret places, to hear her call out his name.

What was his life, anyway? Who was he? Less than nothing. Fitz. Bastard. With his small hopes of an insignificant future.

The wife he hadn’t found yet was ruined for him now. In the distant, empty time to come, he would look down into her face when they mated and think of the woman standing in the doorway now.

Her Highness said, ‘‘You can get comfortable. I’m going to bed.’’

Hauk pulled off his boots and his stockings and went down to his blankets to wait out the endless night.