“I haven’t had time to even think about that,” Gaelin laughed.
Seriene looked him full in the face. Her eyes were blue and clear, burning through his casual facade. “Not even a thought?”
He found the easy laugh fading in his throat. She was breathtaking, and the way she looked at him, thoughts of her were crowding everything else out of his mind. “I suppose the thought’s crossed my mind,” he admitted.
Seriene reached out and touched his hand. Her skin was cool and wet with rain. “I don’t meet many men like you, Gaelin. I wouldn’t say that my father shelters me, but some of the suitors who have called on me seemed so insincere. They wore their chivalry, their victories in the tournaments, like a cloak of nobility. I think they’ve forgotten why they practice the so-called knightly virtues.”
“And I am refreshingly free of social graces?”
Seriene laughed, a light and sweet sound. “No, not at all.
Watching your swordplay, I realized you learned how to fight to stay alive in a real battle, not to win tournaments. When you meet with some lord or ambassador, you don’t try to demonstrate your courtliness. Yo u ’ re courteous because that’s what you think is right.”
“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”
Seriene glanced up at him with a smile. “You’d be surprised at how many noblemen I’ve met who don’t know that.”
Gaelin’s head whirled as they strolled into the open courtyard of the ruined castle. “It seems we’re here,” he said.
Seriene stepped close and pressed her lips to his cheek.
“Thank you, Gaelin. I enjoyed our walk.” She led her horse into the stable, with one last look over her shoulder. Gaelin stood looking after her, not even feeling the rain, for a long moment before he shook himself and headed back to his chambers to change.
Over the next few days, Gaelin and Seriene met for short walks around the battlements or rides about the camp, watching the practice of the army. Gaelin discovered there were few places he could go to get away from the various errands and messages that always found him, and despite his best intentions, he was summoned away to deal with one matter or another. He found he was absentminded and distracted when she wasn’t around, and her smile or the touch of her hand could tie his tongue in knots. Gaelin tried not to let it affect the serious tasks that he waded through each day, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
One day, Madislav appeared on his doorstep, a lecherous grin on his bearded face. Gaelin suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken to his old friend much in the last couple of weeks, although he’d seen Madislav hovering near him constantly.
The Vos winked and said, “Gaelin, I am thinking that you are needing some time alone with the Princess Seriene, eh? Is a fine evening, and you have been working too hard! Go out and relax! You can ask Seriene to ride with you.”
“Well, you may be right.” Gaelin glanced out the window at the sun setting out over the moors and gave in with a shrug. He sent a page to Seriene, inviting her to take a short ride away from the castle, and as the daylight faded into a warm, starlit evening, they rode up into the hills overlooking the lake, accompanied by only a handful of guards. Madislav and his men drifted back out of earshot, trailing them at a discreet distance.
“I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Gaelin,” Seriene said quietly, as they stopped to admire the view.
“I’ve been cooped up in the castle for weeks now,” he replied. “I love these highlands. The air is so crisp and cool… the smell of the heather and the rain… I could get lost up here, and never come back.”
Seriene tossed her head, her dark hair streaming in the wind. “I almost feel jealous,” she said, smiling. They rode a little further, just over a hilltop, and Madislav caught Gaelin’s eye with a quick, approving nod. The Vos and his guardsmen casually fell back out of earshot, leaving Gaelin and Seriene to ride over the hillcrest and continue alone on the other side.
The guards were out of sight, a couple of hundred yards away, but not too far for peace of mind.
“Your friend seems to want us to be alone,” she observed with a shy smile. “Or was it your doing?”
“Madislav’s trying to encourage me to be more direct with you,” Gaelin answered. “Don’t pay him any mind.”
In a sheltered hollow, they dismounted and sat together on a mossy boulder, watching the stars come out one by one as the evening faded toward night.
As darkness began to fall, Seriene leaned close, and Gaelin kissed her, a long, slow kiss that seemed to last forever. Silently she drew away, and Gaelin found himself beginning to undo the fastenings of her dress, letting it fall from her white shoulders.
Her body was soft and pale in the starlight, and Gaelin’s mouth went dry at the sight of her. “Seriene, I…”
“Shh.” She moved closer, touching her hand to his face. She nestled into his arms and guided his hands as he caressed her.
Gaelin drank another long kiss from her perfect lips, and then pulled himself away, quickly standing and stepping away from her, his eyes on the distant hills. “Seriene, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d like to be your lover, even if it’s just for this night – but I can’t promise you anything. It’s just not right for me to do this.”
He heard her as she stood and followed him, the soft whisper of her dress sliding away from her entirely, and she came up behind him and pressed herself close, her arms around his shoulders. “Gaelin, I’m not asking anything of you. I know you’re married to Mhoried, and that’s why I care for you.”
Gaelin was intensely aware of her closeness. Seriene’s arms were circling his body again, unfastening his shirt. “Seriene, I’m nobody. If I win back my father’s throne, then this would be a fine idea, a wonderful idea, but all this could be over in days.”
Seriene reached up to his shoulders and turned him to face her. “That doesn’t matter to me,” she said, and kissed him again, with a fierce abandon that swept his resistance away.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was lowering her to the cool heather, and for a time the world ceased to be as he took her in his arms.
After a time, they lay side by side, looking up at the sky and the glorious vault of stars overhead. Seriene was warm and soft against him, breathing slowly. “Gaelin, do you love Erin?” she asked in a small voice.
“No, of course not,” he said. “I’ve never – ” But even as he spoke, his conscience strummed a discordant note in his heart. He’d never kissed Erin, or seen anything more than hints that she might have feelings for him… but there in the moonlight, with Seriene right there beside him more beautiful than a goddess, the image of Erin’s face and her long, redgolden hair floated in his mind. “I’ve never held her like this, I promise you.”
Seriene sighed, her breath warm on the back of his neck.
“As a famous bard once said, ‘I think thou dost protest too much.’ ” She let him go and moved away. Gaelin heard her dressing again.
He stood, reaching for his own clothes. “Seriene, she’s a friend, and I’ve been through a lot with her, but I’m not lying to you. I haven’t even kissed her,” he said over his shoulder.
She laughed softly in the darkness. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Gaelin. It’s not in your nature. But anyone can lie to himself.”
He turned and stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her tenderly. Her bodice was still partly undone, but the princess was decently covered. He gazed directly into her eyes and said earnestly, “Seriene, I’m falling in love with you. But you’re right, in a way. My heart’s confused. It’s not right for me to make any commitments until I’m certain of where my heart lies. There’s so much happening to me… I don’t want to make this decision in haste.”