back. It was a huge relief. Suzanne smiled primly down at him. “Your trouble, Benn, is that you set much too much store by your looks. It would teach you a well-earned lesson if I did shave your head. Some of it will have to be cut,” she added, more seriously. “I dare not wash out the matted blood, for your wound must be kept dry.”
“You will do only what is necessary, I know. Teasing aside, Suzanne, I do trust you. Without your care, I could well be dead.” He raised his good hand as if to touch her again. It hung suspended for a moment. Then he let it fall back on to his chest. He smiled, but it looked forced. “Do as you will with me, ma’am. I am far too feeble to resist you.”
With an effort, Suzanne shook her head at him. They would be together for some weeks more, while he recovered. And resistance was a quality that she had still to learn.
Chapter Two
Two more weeks of caring for Benn had taken their toll on Suzanne. This time, she managed to retain her composure until she reached her own bedchamber, but it was a close-run thing. She locked her door and almost collapsed against it.
What on earth was happening to her? Oh, she loved Herr Benn. She had known that from the first time she set eyes on him. But did love have to bring such weakness of mind and body?
She had simply taken him coffee. It was part of their early morning ritual, but it had never been anything other than very proper. This morning, their fingers had brushed together when she retrieved his cup. It had not been intentional on her side. And on his? He had deliberately touched her hand once before, but she knew he regretted it, for the gesture had never been repeated. She had been so naive at first, so sure that he would return her love. Three weeks of nursing him had proved her wrong. He was polite, friendly and extremely grateful to her, but he had done nothing to suggest that he might one day come to love her.
One day? What was she thinking of? Thanks to her care, he would soon be healed. In another week, or two at most, he would be gone, travelling alone through enemy France, ready to risk his life for his country and his cause. It was her cause, too, but she was increasingly torn between her devotion to King Louis and her longing to keep Benn by her side. If she had to choose, where would her loyalties lie?
Suzanne clutched her hands together and began to walk back and forth across the threadbare rug, forcing her wobbly limbs to move. She was not a weakling. She was a grown woman. She was capable of taking charge of her family’s entire weaving business. So why could she not take charge of her own emotions, her own heart?
Because it is given. It is no longer yours to control.
She gulped, shook her head against that traitorous thought, and dug her fingernails into her palms, in hopes that pain might force her back to reality.
It did not. The pain was real enough, but the siren voice in the back of her mind refused to be silenced.
You have a few days, a week at most, to discover the truth of what he feels for you. Once he leaves Lyons, leaves you, he will not return, unless you prove to him that he has no choice. Now is not the time for missish airs and ladylike flirtations. You can no longer claim the title of lady, in any case. If you want him to love you, as you love him, you have only days to make it so.
Suzanne could have sworn that her inner voice laughed. It was a low, sensuous sound. And it was followed by soft, seductive words, stealing into her mind and settling like a contented cat.
If you would win all, Suzanne, you must dare to risk all.
She stopped dead and clapped her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the sound. It was useless. The words, the thought, the subtle laughter, all were imprisoned inside her and echoing around the walls of her mind. Such a thought, once confronted, could not be banished, no matter how wicked it might be. Was she really, truly thinking of giving herself to a man she barely
“You will do only what is necessary, I know. Teasing aside, Suzanne, I do trust you. Without your care, I could well be dead.” He raised his good hand as if to touch her again. It hung suspended for a moment. Then he let it fall back on to his chest. He smiled, but it looked forced. “Do as you will with me, ma’am. I am far too feeble to resist you.”
With an effort, Suzanne shook her head at him. They would be together for some weeks more, while he recovered. And resistance was a quality that she had still to learn.
Chapter Two
Two more weeks of caring for Benn had taken their toll on Suzanne. This time, she managed to retain her composure until she reached her own bedchamber, but it was a close-run thing. She locked her door and almost collapsed against it.
What on earth was happening to her? Oh, she loved Herr Benn. She had known that from the first time she set eyes on him. But did love have to bring such weakness of mind and body?
She had simply taken him coffee. It was part of their early morning ritual, but it had never been anything other than very proper. This morning, their fingers had brushed together when she retrieved his cup. It had not been intentional on her side. And on his? He had deliberately touched her hand once before, but she knew he regretted it, for the gesture had never been repeated. She had been so naive at first, so sure that he would return her love. Three weeks of nursing him had proved her wrong. He was polite, friendly and extremely grateful to her, but he had done nothing to suggest that he might one day come to love her.
One day? What was she thinking of? Thanks to her care, he would soon be healed. In another week, or two at most, he would be gone, travelling alone through enemy France, ready to risk his life for his country and his cause. It was her cause, too, but she was increasingly torn between her devotion to King Louis and her longing to keep Benn by her side. If she had to choose, where would her loyalties lie?
Suzanne clutched her hands together and began to walk back and forth across the threadbare rug, forcing her wobbly limbs to move. She was not a weakling. She was a grown woman. She was capable of taking charge of her family’s entire weaving business. So why could she not take charge of her own emotions, her own heart?
Because it is given. It is no longer yours to control.
She gulped, shook her head against that traitorous thought, and dug her fingernails into her palms, in hopes that pain might force her back to reality.
It did not. The pain was real enough, but the siren voice in the back of her mind refused to be silenced.
You have a few days, a week at most, to discover the truth of what he feels for you. Once he leaves Lyons, leaves you, he will not return, unless you prove to him that he has no choice. Now is not the time for missish airs and ladylike flirtations. You can no longer claim the title of lady, in any case. If you want him to love you, as you love him, you have only days to make it so.
Suzanne could have sworn that her inner voice laughed. It was a low, sensuous sound. And it was followed by soft, seductive words, stealing into her mind and settling like a contented cat.
If you would win all, Suzanne, you must dare to risk all.
She stopped dead and clapped her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the sound. It was useless. The words, the thought, the subtle laughter, all were imprisoned inside her and echoing around the walls of her mind. Such a thought, once confronted, could not be banished, no matter how wicked it might be. Was she really, truly thinking of giving herself to a man she barely
Similar Books
