Page 81 of The Sword and the Damsel
“I know. I just couldn’t bring myself to stop. He flies, Victor. Where in Christendom did this horse come from?”
“Not in Christendom, I’m afraid. He originally comes from Arabia. It cost me dear, but I’ve never seen a finer steed. No offense, Socorro,” he said, giving his horse a reassuring pat.
“I love him.”
“And here I thought you loved me.”
“I love you more than all the horses in the world, more than the moon and stars, more than Christmas and my birthday, more than anything or anyone, really.”
He was everything to her, this beautiful, brave man with his warrior’s face and fierce heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to see her safe and happy, and she knew it. The same was true of her. She would face any danger, sacrifice everything to see him happy and at peace.
“And I love you with everything I am. Every day, I wake up thinking my heart will surely burst with it. You are a danger to my health and sanity, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I will do so until the day I die and then on into eternity.”
Ventus stamped impatiently, and Socorro tossed his head.
“I think the horses are annoyed by our maudlin nonsense,” Victor said, the fierce love in his eyes belying his amused tone. “Race again?
Full loop this time?”
“Of course!”
“Ready and…Go!”
They raced for another hour until her ears ached with the cold and her hair was such a tangle, she didn’t think Dora would ever be able to tame it.
“We should head back,” she said regretfully, pulling her stole tighter around her. “We need time to get ready for the feast.”
“You’re cold. You should have told me. Of course, we can head back.”
She must have looked quite a sight as she rode up Castle Street with Victor by her side, but she didn’t care. Revelers were everywhere, making merry and partaking freely of the wine and ale the castle provided one and all for the feast day as they climbed up the hill to the castle.
After relinquishing their steeds to the stable hands, they sauntered into the castle hand in hand with all the guilty delight of children who have been up to mischief. Carenza caught sight of them as they hurried to their room.
“Where have you two been? I’ve been looking for you.” She looked them up and down, observing the state of Alais’s hair and Victor’s too-wide grin. “Never mind. I don’t think I want the answer to that question. Just hurry up and get ready for the feast. Don’t make us wait for you.”
As soon as they were in their room, Victor pressed her against the wall kissing down her neck, and her whole body went up in flame.
“We don’t have time,” she complained, not really wanting him to stop. “You heard Carenza.”
“Let them wait. I need you.” His knee pressed between her legs, and she gasped.
“After the feast,” she said with more conviction than she felt.
“I’m not sure I can wait that long. Can you?” he asked, nibbling her ear in the most delicious way.
Someone knocked on the door. “Alais, are you almost ready?” her mother asked through the door.
“Soon Mother,” she called back.
With a sigh, Victor released her. “After the feast,” he said with a look full of promise.
Victor dressed quickly and went downstairs to avoid temptation, or so he said. With Dora’s help, Alais put on her new, red-velvet dress with a brocade panel in front and long bell sleeves that dripped to her shins. Doratsk-ed at the state of her hair but soon had it pinned up in elegant side buns beneath a crespin whose gold net was studded with pearls. A wisp of sheer white silk draped down the back from the circlet. Last, Alais donned the ruby necklace, earrings, and bracelet Victor had bought her in Canterbury. She was ready.
When she made her entrance in the grand dining hall, she was the last member of the family to arrive. Jugglers and musicians entertained at least half the town, gathered beneath their roof to celebrate the feast day. The hall was decorated with festive tapestries, and braziers and candelabras gave it a merry light. Evergreens decorated the trestle tables, and the floor was strewn with fresh rushes and herbs.
She heard murmurs and gasps as she entered, and with some petty delight, she saw her outfit was even grander than Carenza’s. But then Carenza had always had a rather severe sense of fashion. Why she wore that awful pearl rosary with the tiny carved skull all the time, she would never understand.
What mattered most, though, as she made her entrance was the look of wonder and adoration on Victor’s face. He looked like he was enthralled by a holy vision and nearly dropped his silver wine goblet. As she took her place beside him at the table, he whispered, “You are a queen among women. I am honored beyond words to be at your side.”
