Page 126 of Feathers in the Wind
She found Luke in the centre of the courtyard looking at the west wall.
“I'm not sure the wall will stand much more of this,” he said as she drew level with him. “They've found the weak spot and they'll just keep hammering at it until it gives way. They just have to bring Hawk Tower down and we will be in trouble.”
Deliverance looked up at him. “Is there nothing we can do?”
“I must think about it, but nothing occurs to me at the moment.”
He looked down at her, his grey eyes smouldering. The breath left her body and a warm surge of desire rushed through her. They were discussing annihilation, and all she could think about was the touch of his hands.
“Perhaps if you could spare some time, Mistress Felton, we should inspect our powder supplies,” he said in a husky tone only matched by the glint in the depth of his smoky eyes.
“I think I can spare some time, Captain Collyer,” she responded, hoping no one overhearing them would detect the answering quiver in her voice.
Luke unlocked the door of the chapel and stood aside to let her in. The building smelled of dust and gunpowder. The barrels stood neatly stacked against the walls. After the hustle of the world outside and the cramped conditions of the residence, the cool, quiet chapel came as a relief. You could, Deliverance thought, almost believe it was still a holy place, not the most dangerous place in the castle.
“I think the last time we used this would have been for my parents’ wedding,” she said aloud. “My mother will be turning in her grave to see it so desecrated.”
Luke shrugged. “Needs must. Now shall we start at this end?”
He began counting the barrels.
Deliverance fought back disappointment. Had she misunderstood him? Did he really intend to check on the powder supplies?
“Do we have sufficient store?”
Luke shrugged. “If the siege ends tomorrow, then yes, it will be enough. If the siege lasts until Christmas, then we will have surrendered long before then.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Although we will probably have run out of food first and be reduced to eating rats and cats.”
Deliverance looked up at him. The light from the windows, once filled with coloured glass but now, mostly broken and boarded over, cast the lines of strain on his face into sharp relief. Hesitantly she reached up and touched his face, seeing for the first time, the dark shadows under his eyes. He leaned against her hand, his own hand rising to grasp her fingers, placing them against his lips.
In the gloom, his face caught the light from a sliver of the painted glass window, showering it with coloured flecks as he drew her toward him, his other hand slipping around her waist.
“I thought this might be one place we could be alone and undisturbed for a little.” His voice held an unfamiliar husky tone.
She laughed, suddenly nervous. This moment had occupied her thoughts for days and all she could say was, “A strange place for a lover's tryst, Captain Collyer.”
“I'm sure there may have been stranger but none I can think of.” He tilted her face up to look at him. “You have a smudge of dirt on your cheek, Deliverance. No, don't rub it off, it looks rather endearing.”
“This pretence is killing me,” she murmured, leaning her head against his chest as he gathered her into his arms.
Even beneath the thickness of his jacket, his heart beat steadily against her cheek, and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling his face down so their foreheads and their noses touched. She closed her eyes, feeling Luke's lips on hers. His arms tightened around her and they sank to the dusty floor, locked together.
Deliverance shut her eyes, surrendering to her other senses. The cold, hard flagstones beneath her, the warm smell of man, the rasp of his stubbled cheek against her, the sweet, salty taste of his mouth on her lips and the sound of their own desire, mingled in the strange silence of a room filled with gunpowder.
She meshed her fingers in his hair as he began tugging at the laces of her bodice, loosening them enough to allow his questing fingers to find her bare skin. She thought she would scream as a shudder of longing ran through her body and she arched her back, her hips grinding into his.
“Luke,” she cried out, remembering at the last minute to lower her voice.
Luke paused and he laid a finger against her mouth. “Shh.”
She opened her eyes. His concentration seemed to have moved from her and he tensed like a dog that had picked up another, more interesting scent. He rolled to one side, lying on his stomach on the floor beside her, his head turned to look at her and his ear pressed to the stonework. “Can you hear something?”
Only the beating of my heart, she longed to say.
“Listen.”
Reluctantly, she rolled over and copied his actions. Her eyes widened as she heard the unmistakable sound of metal striking rock.
“What...?” she began.
