Rose (38 page)

She took off her veil, tossing it to an olive tree branch. “I might be a teensy bit inebriated,” she informed him. “But a lady never gets drunk.” She winked, then slipped out of her shoes. She balanced on one foot and spun around, laughing as she launched herself at his chest.

His arms came around her of their own accord, holding her tight. How could he ever let her go?
He had to.

“Make me fly again, Dominus,” she said, leaning her head back so that her hair brushed the ground. “I want to soar.”

He buried his hands in her hair, spinning her around before lifting her in his arms. “One last time.”

Their kisses heated quickly, as if each sensed the urgency of their union. “Take off your robe,” she said, tugging it over his head while trying to keep their lips melded.

“Wait just a moment,” he said, whipping it off and going back to her mouth. She nibbled his lower lip before sweeping her tongue inside.

She clung to his shoulders as he laid his robe on the ground. “You deserve better than this,” he said.

“You are too worried about what I deserve. Love me. That is all I need.” She took off her gown, then teasingly turned her back to him, slowly shrugging her chemise down her shoulders until the undergown dropped all the way.

She faced him, as naked as the day she was born, her long curls cascading over her breasts. She kicked the undergown aside and reclined on the robe. She patted the spot next to her. “Join me, Dominus. You don't have to dance first.” The smile around her mouth dared him to have fun.

She lay back, her hair fanned out behind her. He stepped from his breeches and shirt, not caring about games as he stretched next to her. He put his arm beneath her head and leaned over her, committing each beautiful freckle to memory.

God, he felt like dying at the loss of her, and she was not even gone yet.

“Stop it, Dominus,” Mamie whispered. “Be right here with me.” She put her soft hand against his chest. “I feel your heart. We might be gone tomorrow, but the feeling will remain.”

“What an awful sentiment.” He moved his hand to her waist, following the curve to her hip.

“Love?”

“It should be called something else. Torture would be a more accurate word. Love is pretty, kind. I want to rip my heart from my chest.”

“You never mentioned you were a poet.” Mamie leaned over and sucked his nipple.

Need shot through his body. “I will show you poetry,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

She arched back, allowing him access to her entire throat. “Hmm. I am listening.” She held his shoulders, exploring his muscles with her fingers, her caresses as light as feathers, each soft press adding to his desire.

He nipped the lobe of her ear, and she shivered with a mew of delight. What he wouldn't give to cause her sounds of pleasure for the rest of his life. He breathed in the rose oil on her body, trailing kisses down to her collar bone. Her breasts filled his palms, and she shifted beneath him. “Hurry, Dominus,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Her hand left his shoulders, tickling down his side to his waist, his hip, his groin. Her warm fingers gripped his shaft, stroking upward.

He touched the moist core of her, sliding a finger through her feminine curls. “I would make this last,” he said.

She lifted against his pressing fingers. “Fast is good too,” she said, her eyes half-closed. He felt her trembling as she moved his hand and pulled at his hips. “Please, Dominus?”

He settled between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles at his back. She met him thrust for thrust, crying out softly as she came. Her look of pleasure brought him over the edge, and he leaned his head into the warm crook of her neck. Her fingers stroked his back, up and down the length of his spine.

“I love you,” she said into his ear, lightly tugging at the lobe. “Even if you do think it's an ugly word.”

He burst out laughing—it was either that or cry like a child.

Compline bells rang, and they jumped to their feet. He handed her the veil, which had snagged on a white olive blossom. He helped her into her gown, then held her close.

She slipped beneath his arm, blowing kisses as she ran down the trail toward the palace.

“Damned love,” he said, hurrying toward the Templar House with a heavy heart.

The next morning, Mamie handed the queen a small glass of juice. “Drink this. Have some bread. You will feel better soon.”

“It is indecent that you look in the first blush of health. I
know you drank as much as I did.” Eleanor scowled. “Do I really
have to meet with that toad?”

“Odo is waiting for you. He has been for the past hour. You look fine. Just nod. Do not make any decisions. Fay and I will be right there with you.”

“He said alone.”

“Like we are going to leave you at his mercy?” Fay patted the short sword at her hip. “I don't think so.”

Eleanor gave a throaty laugh. “Sweet Mother Mary. Where is Larissa?”

“Sleeping.” Fay grinned. “Don't glare at me. I tried to get you to have some water before you went to bed. But oh, no, you had to have it your way because, as you said so sweetly, you are the damn queen.”

Eleanor's lips twitched. “Fine. Take me to Odo.”

The three women left the room, walking arm in arm down the marble hall. “So. Fay had water. What did you have?”

“Dominus.”

This time Eleanor's laugh echoed down the hall. “Ah, Mamie.”

Mamie pushed open the door to the courtyard. Fresh mountain air washed over her. She saw Odo at a small table, facing the palace, his back to the trail. Nobody else was around.

The chaplain faced them. “What are you—?”

“I already told you that Fay and I would be here, so don't even think of asking us to leave.”

Odo nodded, his ravaged face having aged ten years overnight. He stood until Eleanor took her seat, then sat too. She leaned an elbow on the table. “How is Louis?”

“He's in pain, Queen Eleanor. He doesn't want the dissolution. I wish we could have met yesterday, before you made your announcement.”

“It would have changed nothing,” Eleanor said gently.

“The patriarch was right. Thierry and I have not fostered matrimonial happiness. For the good of France, you and the king must have children.”

Mamie peeked at Odo. The man actually looked hurt by the idea of what such a thing would entail.

She smiled, remembering last night. She'd promised to steal away as much as she could before they left. Just one more kiss, one more time with Dominus, to get her through the rest of her life. There would never be another love like his.

“Louis and I are within the confines—”

“I know,” Odo interrupted. “But please do not give up on France just yet. We need your vitality, your energy.”

“My duchy and my men.”

He winced.

“Please understand this, Odo. I love the king. But I am a woman capable of leading in my own right. Ruling. I do not—”

Mamie heard a crash and looked up at the terrace above the courtyard. Thierry ran down toward them, a sword drawn. “Harlot,” he screamed. “Deceiver!” He ran as fast as he could, his robes trailing.

Odo stepped in front of the queen.

Mamie raced toward the crazed man.

Fay leaped in his path, bracing against the onslaught of his weight. “Stop!” Fay's voice rang clear and strong. Her sword scraping out of the sheath sent shivers across Mamie's skin.

They locked weapons, arms straining. She gave ground, keeping her balance and staying on her feet.

Mamie waited, ready to assist.

Fay fought as she'd been trained. Thierry was forced backward, his face contorted with rage.

“Yield!” Fay said, pushing hard.

Thierry fell to the ground. Instead of staying there, he rolled, picked up a handful of dirt, and tossed it into Fay's face.

“You have no honor,” Fay cried, swiping her eyes.

But he'd gotten around her and closer to the queen.

Mamie held her sword out, and he was forced to stop or run into her blade. “Keep going please,” she said, jaw tight.

Louis and his guards approached from all around. Where were the palace guards?

Thierry lunged to Mamie's left, but Fay yanked him back by the hair, neatly sliding her sword into his side.

“Die,” Fay said. “For the harm you've caused. I saw how
pale you turned when Constance said it hadn't been her poisoning
the queen. I wager it was you?”

Blood bubbled at his lips. “Bitch.”

“You have been judged,” Fay said, twisting her blade once more before dropping his dead body to the ground.

Mamie looked around, noticing the king's men watching from a distance.

“What is going on here, Louis?” Eleanor asked.

Louis looked down at Thierry, appalled. “You were right, Odo. He'd gone mad.”

“Was this a setup?” Eleanor demanded, her pitch high. “You used me as bait, Odo?”

“Non! I wanted to speak with you. Apologize, as ordered
by the patriarch. One of the Templar men sent word to me this morning that he'd seen Thierry with Raymond and Jocelyn. It made me curious, so I did some snooping of my own and found pages in his diary where he pens nothing but his hatred for the queen.”

Eleanor paled and sat in her seat.

“He has been trying to kill me.” The queen turned to Louis. “Your man?”

“I am sorry,” the king said, a hand over his heart. “You were saved, before he could implement his plan.”

“Not by you.”

“I love you, Eleanor,” Louis said, his eyes pleading. “Come away with me. Right now. You and I will go to Jerusalem, gain
absolution, and finish this quest. Then we can go home and begin again.” He held out a hand. “Give Marie brothers and sisters.”

Eleanor's folded hands remained in her lap. “I cannot do that, Louis. I need to be free.”

“There is no freedom for a queen.” His voice was sad but resolute.
He snapped his fingers, and his men went into formation.

“What are you doing?” Eleanor looked alarmed.

Mamie had no idea what to do, so she stayed at Eleanor's side. “Say good-bye to your ladies.”

“I will not!” She stood, leaning on the table.

“The guard is disbanded.”

“Louis!”

“Mamie, thank you for your service to my wife,” the king
said. “It is done. Do not follow us to Jerusalem. Tell her, Eleanor.”

Eleanor swallowed, her tears spilling over as she accepted what was happening. “
Mon Dieu.
” She took Mamie's hand. “Thank you for your service. For my life, many times over.” She bit her lower lip. “You are my Rose. The one most like me in the garden. Be happy, Mamille. Love. Of your own will. Take heed what happens when you give a man your power.”

Louis briefly closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, they remained determined.

“I . . . I cannot leave you,” Mamie said. “You need me.”

Squeezing Mamie's hand until her fingers were numb, Eleanor said, “I will be fine.” The queen blinked and stared at her husband. “Now?”

“Fay.”

Eleanor's body trembled like a newborn pup's.

Fay shook her head and held her bloodied sword against
Thierry's body. “Disband the guard if you will. I am family. I am going. I can help you get her out of the palace. You need me, Louis.”

Her voice filled with torment, Eleanor said, “Fay,
mon chéri,
non. You can go home.”

“My home is with you,” Fay said, in her own way the strongest
of everyone. “It always has been, and it will be until I die.”

Mamie shivered, hearing the power in Fay's voice.

The king nodded. “I will have my men follow you to your rooms. They will watch you pack just what you need. Be ready to move at compline. Raymond is expecting my men to leave today, not Eleanor. Mamie, you will be the queen. Say your good-byes here.”

Mamie turned to the women she'd shared this amazing
journey with. The three of them embraced. “I will not make Jerusalem,” Mamie said, trying to understand what had just happened.

“You never cared.” Fay sniffed. “Shall I pray for you?”

“I can shout at God from here.” Mamie kissed the women's cheeks. “I miss you. Be safe. I will come to Paris as soon as you are there.”

“I will not be in Paris,” Eleanor said. “Louis thinks he's won the war. This is a skirmish that he will pay dearly for.”

Mamie pressed a hand over the queen's heart. “Love. If you can. When you can. Love connects us. Remember: your choices matter.”

“I wanted to be Queen of Edessa. I feel that I am not meant to be Queen of France.”

“There is something better for you.” Mamie sighed and allowed the king's guard to lead her away.

Mamie was dressed in the queen's emerald gown with the crown Constance had given her, the coils brushed from her hair to fall in waves, then covered in a heavy velvet veil so only a bit of it was visible. She'd applied layers of powder to her freckled face, a light brush of rouge and the queen's pink to her lips.

The emerald pendant as big as her fist, a gift from Louis and Eleanor for her to keep, rested on her breastbone. From a distance, which is how she'd waved good-bye from the palace
window, she looked like the queen. She'd had to quit crying because
it simply started Larissa up again and ruined her makeup.

Tyche, goddess of fortune, you played a cruel trick on us here.

She set the braided figure on the table in Eleanor's rooms. She'd sent word to Raymond that she was exhausted, but he'd requested a meeting. To discuss her future. She had to stall as
long as possible, giving Louis time to get his men outside the gates. Would he go after his niece? Or believe her sadness was real?