Scoundrel's Kiss (29 page)

"No matter," she said.
"I should go inside."

He had to do this. For the safety of
his fledgling little family, he had to do as Pacheco asked.

And then Gavriel would kill him. Fernan
had kissed Abez goodbye knowing he would never see her again.

"Wait." He touched her hand,
roughly taking her fingers and ignoring the trembling in his own. She frowned
at him, but at least she stayed. From the alms bag he removed the packet Pacheco
had given him: two poppy seedpods wrapped in a strip of linen.

"A gift," he said. "For
you."

Her eyes widened. Her bow-shaped lips
parted. Ah, but her mouth was lovely. No matter his love for Abez, he prided
himself on being a man who appreciated the fairer sex. And only the thought of
that love steadied his conscience and kept his hand from snatching back the
unholy offer.

She had not lifted her gaze from his
gift. "What is it?"

He raised the packet to his nose and
inhaled the cloying sweet scent "I think we both know."

"How?" Her breath was coming
fast now. So very close.

"Don't ask, my dear," he
whispered, pushing the pods into her hands. "It's yours."

She sat on the second pew in the
cathedral for hours. Brothers came and went, praying, lighting candles,
exchanging quiet instructions. Two young novices swept the central aisle,
silent in their work. No one bothered Ada. She only noticed them as a buzz of
insects behind her thoughts. The poppy pods pressed as heavy as lead in her
hands. She had not even opened the linen wrap, but their scent—more
pungent than smoke, dust, and the smell of cathedral's sun-baked stones—
wove into her nose, tapping deeper memories.

Freedom.

She had spent the better part of a week
contemplating her future, one that involved selling Daniel's scrolls and
indulging once again, but now the moment was at hand. And she did not know what
to do. She should fling temptation away like so much refuse and clutch her
temperance with both hands. But the poppies waited. They called to her.

She stood and quickly left the
cathedral. Gavriel would help. They had parted on poor terms that morning in
the weapons hall, but he would not turn away her pleas on this score. None of
their hard work—his hard work and her suffering—would be sacrificed.
She only had to ask for his aid, her pride an easy victim to the fear of
falling again.

Breath burned hot in her throat, and
her pulse pumped" as quickly as her legs. Running. Through the maze of the
monastery, the corridors repeated the sound of her boots slapping the
flagstones. Two canonesses wearing matched habits and censorious looks pushed
against a wall to avoid her. And with every step, Ada could have flung away the
poppies.

She would, just as soon as Gavriel told
her to.

Outside his chambers, she pressed her
forehead against the wood and breathed. The erratic beat of her body would not
be stilled. He would see her as a crazy woman at his threshold, hair whipped
free of her headdress and eyes wild with need and fear. He would
see
her,
this humiliating vulnerability, and he would not fail her. He could not.

She knocked with her good hand and
cradled the pods with the other. Waiting, panting, she heard a smack. Then
another, like me slap of reins against a horse's neck. A third sent shivers up
her back.

His back
„
"Gavriel?"

She pounded the door this time, both
hands, not caring about the pain shooting between her raw knuckles. A few kicks
later and she shouted his name again, her face aflame. Frustration pinched at
her temples. She placed the poppies on the ground and tried the handle, flying
two steps forward when the door opened.

Gavriel knelt wearing only breeches,
his back to the door. Illuminated by a single tallow candle, he bowed his head
low. Long streaks of flayed flesh angled from his right shoulder to his left
hip. Rivulets of blood trickled down, nearly black in that pale light. Slightly
older wounds, covered in scabs, crossed the opposite direction, the remnants of
another recent torture session.

He raised his arm and flogged himself
again, apparently oblivious to her presence. The metal-tipped leather bit his
skin once more, opening another furrow of flesh. His whole body convulsed
around that pain but he made no sound. The arm may as well have been that of
another man for how little mercy he showed. Every strike was more shattering,
more powerful than the one before.

The lash pulled a chain of whimpers
from her throat. She covered her mouth. Tears rained over her fingers until she
could stand no more.

"Stop!"

She rushed to him and grabbed the
handle of the flogger. Even taking him by surprise, she was no match for his
speed and strength. Gavriel shot to his feet and flung her away. She landed
with a grunt against the wall.

He stood over her, his handsome face
contorted into a grotesque mask. "Why are you here?"

She recoiled from his thunderous voice
and smacked her head against the stone wall. Her every reason for coming to him
had vanished into vapors of fear and shock. "I—I..."

"Come to stare,
inglesa?"
He
sneered and hefted the grim leather flogger, displaying it for her. "Come
to see what punishment I endure for having kissed you?"

Her heart twisted. "This is
because of our kiss?"

Blood dripped from the steel tips to
the ground, dotting the floor. "Because I must make my body obey. My
body—or you."

He bared his teeth and lifted the
flogger again, ready to strike. She screamed.

Gavriel flinched, blinked.
"Ada?"

"I've never been afraid of you,
not until this moment," she whispered, fingers clenched around the hilt of
her dagger.

A flicker of Gavriel the man she
knew—returned to his eyes, as if trapped behind the mask he wore,
fighting to break free. But for Ada, it was too late. She used his momentary
confusion to find her feet and flee.

Half a dozen paces down the corridor,
she ran back and grabbed the poppies.

Hours later, Gavriel finished washing
the cuts on his back, content to have stopped the bleeding. A fresh tunic
covered his skin. He rubbed the back of his neck, his hair still wet from
washing, and he stared at the flogger where it lay on the floor. Having simply
dropped it when Ada fled, the venomous tool lay in the blood—his
blood—dried black on the stones.

She had been afraid of him, truly
afraid, just as he had been terrified of himself. Not at all the man he had
hoped to become. And now, no matter the consequences, he would apologize. She
deserved that much from him, if not abject begging for her forgiveness.

Shame rolled through his body like a
thunderstorm over the land. If he had hurt her...

His gaze caught on the metal barbs at
the ends of the flogger. They glittered with sinister purpose. The skin on his
back twitched, but his body and mind remained unbowed. He could deliver as many
lashes as there were stars and Ada would remain a part of him. Nothing he had
done or could ever do would sever the connection strengthening between them,
but he had nearly taken his anger and fear out on her.

Grizzly images of Ada wearing scars to
match his burned behind his eyes. He crossed the scant distance to the sword he
had wrested from one of the guards in Yepes. Why had he kept it, when he
thought never to use a sword again? Now he knew. He kept it because he might
need it Picking up the flogger, a lifeless opponent that threatened his body
and his mind, he wrapped the leather strips around the blade and sliced them
from the handle. Tiny, excruciating metal barbs tinkled against the flagstones,
harmless now except to bare feet.

It was done. Never again.

He quietly closed the door to his
chamber and walked through the corridors to Ada's room. No one stirred at that
late hour. Torches burned low, if at all, and shadows worked to get the better
of his imagination. But what could the shadows—or his imagination, for
that matter—conjure that he had not seen or done or thought?

"Ada?" He knocked gently on
the door. "Ada, I've come to apologize. Please,
inglesa.
Ada?"

The latch sounded on the other side of
the door and opened to reveal Blanca, her eyes two full moons. She would not
open the door any wider.
"Senior,
she's not well."

"I understand," he said,
quelling his frustrations. "I'm responsible."

Blanca frowned. "I should hope
not."

He pushed his hands together, the heels
of his palms grinding bone on bone. "Yes, I am. I—I frightened her,
and I should like the chance to apologize."

"Oh,
senor,
no."

She opened the door wide. Ada lay
slumped on the floor at the foot of her cot. Her hair fell over her shoulders,
half-concealing her face, strands plastered to her forehead. The gown she had
worn lay in a heap beside an empty mortar and pestle.

Air punched free of his lungs. Dizzy,
hot, defeated, he slumped against the doorway.

No!

"Hello, Gavriel," she said,
her voice as bleary as her addled eyes. He had seen that expression on her
lovely face once before. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Saints be, Blanca." He
cornered the smaller woman, barely reigning in his temper. "How long has
she been this way?"

She passed a nervous glance between him
and Ada. "I returned from midnight Mass and found her."

"Did she ask for me?"

"No,
senor.
She said I was
not to bother you." Blanca hesitated, her cheeks heating with a pink
blush.

"There's more,
si?
What did
she say?"

"She said you were in a foul humor
and she wanted to enjoy herself in peace."

Gavriel nodded, slowly, as if the bones
in his neck had rusted. She had come to see him, but why?

Ada laughed behind him, the sound of
madness. A shiver rolled down his arms. Blanca crossed herself and moved to
join Ada.

Gavriel put a hand to her shoulder.
"Blanca, do you trust me?"

She did not hesitate now, not like when
she was protecting him from the truth of Ada's condition. She simply nodded.

"I need to stay with her
tonight," he said quietly. "Do you understand? No one can know."

"Of course,
senor"
Her
dark eyes held trust and fear in equal measure. "And you can make her well
again?"

"I can," he said.

But the conviction in his voice belied
the quivering apprehension in his gut. He had driven her to this, after all
those days and horrid nights dragging her free. Why would anyone entrust him
with her care after how he had behaved?

Because she needs me.

Blanca gathered her cloak and tied it
around her neck. "I will sleep in the chapel. Find me there if you need
anything."

"Are you certain?"

"Si.
Take
care of her tonight"

With that she was gone. The latch
clicked, shutting him in with Ada.

"Where is it, what's left of
it?"

"Nothing left," she said, her
face smooth and serene. "Just the mortar. So innocent now. Harmless. And
now you can't hurt me, either."

Gavriel knelt and pushed the hair from
her brow, smoothing. "Who did this? Who gave this to you?"

Eyes filled with stars met his. Nothing
of Ada remained in that elated gaze. They had defeated this demon need once,
but it had returned to steal her again.

"A friend," she said.
"One who likes me much more than you do."

"Fernan."

She smiled like sharing a secret.
"Possibly."

After a deep breath for patience, he
garnered her in his arms and lifted her from the floor. A keen sense of
helplessness stole the strength from his arms. He clutched tighter, suddenly
afraid of dropping her. She snuggled against his chest, that secret smile still
gracing her lips. Her face was sallow and waxen.

Working to banish his doubts, or at
least to lock them away for a few hours, he steeled himself for the task of
sitting with her, vigilant, for her euphoria would not last forever. He settled
with her on the cot, sitting propped against the wall despite the flames of
pain across his back. She curled into his body at once, head on his chest and
softly humming to herself.

"I never wanted this for
you." He kissed the top of her head. Her sweat smelled sticky sweet, not
like her at all. "I am trapped, but I wanted you to be free."

He had not expected a reply. The
distance between their minds was too great—his writhing in regret, hers
floating high above. Yet she sighed and whispered, "But you didn't want me
for yourself."

Gavriel pulled her closer and shut his
eyes, but he did not sleep. The throbbing along his back was too insistent, and
the storm in his mind would not quiet He needed to decide what to do about her
lapse.