Purdun put up his hands, interrupting Liam. "Wait," said the baron, reaching over and grabbing hold of the door to Liam's private room. "I have a surprise for you." Tugging it open, Purdun waved his arm as if he were a herald presenting a visiting dignitary.
"Listen," said Liam, gathering his will to turn down the offer.
"I-"
A slippered foot appeared first, followed by the rest of a beautiful woman. Out of his room stepped Samira, and Liam's jaw dropped.
She looked like an angel descending into Zerith Hold. She wore a flowing white silk gown with ornate lace sleeves that flared at her hands, hiding them from view. Her long black hair had been lifted into an exquisite pile on top of her head, adorned with wildflowers and a handful of tiny sparkling jewels. She seemed to float as she moved, the smooth fabric of the gown trailing behind her.
Looking at her made Liam feel warm all over.
"Hello, Liam," she said.
"Uh." Liam did a once-over of his own appearance. He was still wearing most of his armor and was covered in tiny bits of leaves and wood. "Hi," he said.
Liam looked into Samira's eyes. She smiled, and the rest of the world seemed to disappear.
"I don't want to keep you two any longer than I have to," interrupted Purdun.
Liam tried to break eye contact with Samira, but he simply couldn't. She was entrancing, and he was helpless.
"Liam," continued Purdun, "don't give me your answer now. But let me leave you with this one thought. The position I am offering you would come with a considerable raise in pay. Enough to, say, keep a lovely young woman in the custom she deserves."
Liam and Samira continued to stare into each other's eyes.
Lord Purdun bowed to the two of them. "I take my leave." Then he turned and hurried down the hall.
Samira reached up and pulled out one of the torn leaves stuck in Liam's armor. "What happened to you?"
Liam looked down at himself again. "Got in a fight," he said.
"I heard," she said. "Baron Purdun told me you saved a man's life."
Liam nodded. "I guess I did."
The two of them stood in the doorway for a moment longer, looking at each other. Then Samira grabbed his hand.
"Come on. Let's get that dirty armor off you."
Liam followed her inside his room and closed the door behind him.
Chapter 19
Ryder lay on the warm stone floor, Giselle's head on his chest, his fingers dangling in the quickly cooling water, staring at the stars.
The muscles in his back that had relaxed from the warm water and Giselle's caresses were once again knotted and tense. His head hurt, and it took tremendous effort to simply lie still. He laughed at the absurdity. This was a fantasy come true-he was on top of a tower inside a splendid palace with a beautiful, exotic woman lounging naked beside him. Things like this didn't happen to people like Ryder. They happened to the rich and powerful, not the poor farmer or the revolutionary. Yet, he couldn't enjoy it.
The moment they had finished, Ryder was struck right smack in the middle of his chest with a tremendous wave of guilt.
Samira.
How could he have done that to her? She would never forgive him, and he wouldn't blame her. She would never do something like that to him. Had he been killed, she would have likely spent the rest of her life celibate, grieving over him.
But not him. He had always thought of himself as a good man. But right now, he didn't feel like one.
Giselle stirred, stretching her arms and turning to look up at Ryder.
"Hi," she said, smiling.
He looked at her but couldn't keep eye contact. "Hi," he said, trying to put a smile on his face.
Giselle rolled over and got to her knees, then climbed up to straddle Ryder, looking down into his face.
"That was nice," she said.
"Uh-huh," he said, looking off over the tub.
Giselle grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. She was frowning. "What's wrong?"
Ryder shook his head.
Giselle shook hers as well. "No. I mean it. What's wrong?"
Ryder took a deep breath and let it out. He was nervous about how she would react to the truth, but if he didn't tell her… well, he didn't know what would happen, but he was sure it wouldn't be good.
"I… I don't know what to say," he said. He sat silently for a moment, trying to build up the courage to say what he needed to say. Finally he blurted, "Giselle, I'm a married man."
"Well," she said, leaning back a bit but not getting off his chest, "that doesn't seem like you don't know what to say."
Ryder looked up at her. Instead of being angry, as he had expected she would be, she smiled and touched the edge of his face.
"You're feeling guilty," she said, not a question, just a matter-of-fact statement.
Ryder swallowed. "Yes."
"That's understandable." She paused. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For your honesty," she said. Then she leaned down and kissed him. "And for not turning me down."
Ryder blushed. He'd never been in this situation before, but he felt tremendous relief. Much of his guilt was simply concern over what this attractive woman would think of him when she found out the truth.
"Listen, this life is very short," she said. "I learned a long time ago that every moment I waste regretting something I did or didn't do is another moment I don't spend actually living my life."
"Spoken like a true farmer," said Ryder.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Giselle frowned.
"Just that before you can truly move forward, you have to be willing to live with the consequences."
Giselle looked puzzled. "And what does that mean?"
"It's something an old farmer in Furrowsrich used to say. To him it was a bit of wisdom about how and where to plow a piece of land into a new field. I've always thought it had a larger meaning."
"All right, philosopher. How?"
Ryder lifted himself up onto his elbows. "Living your life is a scary proposition. The more you gain, the more you have to lose. The more you have to lose, the harder it becomes to live with the consequences. But that shouldn't stop you from living the life you think you should live." He looked into Giselle's beautiful brown eyes. Then he touched her face. "You and I aren't that different."
Giselle leaned into his touch. "No?"
Ryder shook his head. "No."
There was a long silence with both of them just gazing at each other.
After a long while, Giselle broke the silence. "So, this wife of yours must be the reason you've been so eager to leave Fairhaven."
A sudden chill ran down Ryder's spine. "You're not going to have me locked up again, are you?" He didn't struggle or try to get away. Whatever she wanted to do to him, he was going to let it happen.
Giselle laughed. "Oh," she said, "what a good idea. I could keep you here as my personal love slave." She smiled then lay down on him, pressing her breasts against his chest. "Then you couldn't feel guilty. It wouldn't be your choice."
"Would I have to live in that dirty, rusted cage? I don't think I would like that very much."
Giselle shook her head. "No. You could stay up here. Of course, I'd have to make you work for your keep."
"I have one question." He sat up and, in one fluid motion, turned to his side, lifting Giselle off the ground and into the air as he got to his feet. Holding her in his arms, he stepped forward until her back was pressed against the stone wall. "Would this work-" He interrupted himself by kissing Giselle- "require any heavy lifting?"
Giselle's face was flushed. Ryder could feel her heart pounding through her chest as he pressed his skin against hers. "I think it might," she said.
Ryder nodded, kissing her neck. "Just checking."
Inside the closed, private room, Samira helped Liam unbuckle his armor, placing it piece by piece back on the rack in the corner. Underneath, his long woven shirt was stained in places with blotches of blood and sweat.