Lord Of Danger Stuart, Anne (classic fiction .TXT) 📖

that… that creature hurt you? He hit you, didn’t he? Tell me he struck you and I’ll steal a sword and run him through! How dare he lay a hand on my sister! I’ll gut him, I swear…” Her furious voice trailed off in the face of Alys’s sudden laugh.

“I’d like to see you try, dearest,” she said. “Of course he didn’t hit me.”

“Your mouth is swollen,” Claire said accusingly.

“He kissed me.”

Claire was dumbfounded. “I will kill him,” she said, quite calmly.

“No, you won’t. I am pledged to him—he has every right to kiss me.” She sank down on the bed, pulling the veil and circlet from her head.

“What was it like?” Claire asked finally.

“Like?”

“The kiss? Was it nasty? Hurtful? Did he kiss your mouth or your cheek or…”

“Of course he kissed my mouth, Claire,” Alys said with deceptive calm. “I’d hardly be this disturbed by a chaste kiss on the hand.”

Claire felt a chill in her heart. “So there was nothing chaste about this kiss?” she forced herself to ask.

She half expected Alys to deny it. Instead a strange, distant expression came into her eyes, as if she were remembering something long in the past, when it couldn’t have been more than an hour ago. “No,” she said in a small voice. “There was nothing chaste about his kiss.”

Claire’s curiosity overcame her.“Why did he kiss you? What did it feel like? Was he gentle, or rough? Did he ask leave to kiss you? Did he… ?”

“Does Simon of Navarre strike you as the sort of man who would ask leave to kiss someone?”

“He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who’d be interested in kissing,” Claire said bluntly. “Does he you?”

“No,” Alys admitted. “But he is. No one could be quite so adept at it without possessing a great deal of interest in the subject.”

“Adept?” Claire shuddered. “I don’t know how you could bear it. I know that he is not precisely ugly, if you don’t notice that twisted hand of his, but I still can’t imagine it. So he kissed you on the mouth. What did you say?”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to say anything. It wasn’t a brief kiss.”

“What do you mean? How can a kiss be other than brief? Lips touch, and then part.”

“There’s more to it than that. He put his mouth against mine, and I thought that would be all there was to it. And I told myself I must submit. But then, when he used his tongue…”

“His tongue?” Claire shrieked in horror.

“I tried to pull away. But I hadn’t realized he was holding me so that I couldn’t escape. I could only stay there and let him kiss me.”

“Oh, my poor angel,” Claire moaned. “That you had to endure such a terrible thing.”

“But it wasn’t,” Alys said.“At first I was quite shocked, but since there was no way I could get away from him I simply let him kiss me. And it grew very dark and strange, Claire. The room seemed to glow, and I felt as if I were sinking into a deep, soft pillow made of velvet, and darkness was all around me, but it was lit with stars, and I knew I had to hold on to him or I would fall, but he was there, and quite strong, and I knew I should be safe, and…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed Claire’s stupefaction.

“You did like it,” she accused her.

“I don’t know,” Alys said in a practical voice. “Perhaps I’ll have to try it again to make certain.”

“Alys!” Claire was shocked.

“I don’t know what would have happened if Richard hadn’t suddenly arrived,” Alys added. “I felt faint, and oddly weak, which I imagine was what he had in mind. Lord Simon’s motives could never be simple.”

“He was trying to cloud your mind. He probably used one of his filthy potions on you, and your addled brain is the result of drugs, not his kissing,” Claire said sternly.

“Does my brain appear addled?” Alys sounded wistful. “I’m not surprised. And yet I’ve always prided myself on my sharp wits.”

“It’s witchcraft.”

“It’s nothing of the kind,” Alys said sharply. “And there were no potions tonight, nothing to make me weak and pliant. For all that he likes to frighten people into thinking he’s some sort of dread monster, Simon of Navarre is only a man. No more, no less.”

“And you still intend to marry him? You’re still willing to sacrifice yourself for me?” Claire was unaccustomed to feeling guilt, but all her sister’s protestations were unable to allay the feeling.

Alys lifted her head and met her sister’s gaze, and for the first time there was a trace of her older sister’s usual serenity, her calm good humor. “Claire, my sweet,” she said in a soft voice, “I begin to suspect that it will be no sacrifice at all.”

Claire stared at her in disbelief. This wasn’t the staid, plain older sister who’d always looked out for her, always cared for her. With her shining eyes and flushed cheeks, with her hair awry and her lips reddened, she looked absolutely lovely. Not at all the perfect little scholar and would-be nun. She looked like a woman, a woman whose first concern was no longer her sister Claire.

She swallowed her moment of panic with admirable calm. “Perhaps Grendel is preferable to the convent You know I have never approved of your supposed vocation. But you know you have only to say the word.”

“And what, my love?” Alys asked. “Will you step in and take my place as the virgin sacrifice? Or will you skewer my betrothed?”

“You mock me. I would do either, if necessary,” Claire announced with great dignity.

“There will be no necessity. Simon of Navarre and I are very well suited. He is a man of many talents and interests. I know I shall enjoy learning from him.”

“And what exactly is it that you’ll be learning, sister dear?”

And to Claire’s dismay, steady, stalwart Alys turned a bright, embarrassed crimson.

Simon of