Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,89
not have, what I feel is not love and never will be. Accept it and bear the pain awhile if you must, then look elsewhere for a man upon whom to spend your life.”
His words almost making her wish she had withdrawn, she said, “I do not fear loving someone who does not love me. After all, how many in this world truly find one to love who loves them in return? At least now that I know what it is to love, should such find its way to me again, sooner I will recognize it so sooner I may pursue it. And capture it.”
Inwardly, Vitalis groaned. Was there no way around the vixen?
Hardly did he pose the question than the answer came to him, brutal though it was. “It is dangerous for you to be here—mostly for you, but also me, Nicola. Thus, to spare you further regret like that you feel over Bjorn and Zedekiah, leave.”
The torchlight was bright enough to show how quickly she paled at being reminded of the parts she had played in their deaths, but the step she took back from the door was worth it.
“You are right, Vitalis. I make excuses to do things I ought not. It is hard to accept being unable to bend events to my will, especially when my intentions are good. But I will learn—hopefully, outside the walls of a convent rather than inside.”
Vitalis set his face nearer. “Never inside them,” he said firmly. “That you were not made for. Now return to your rest.”
Her hand rose, and though he had time to draw back, he received her touch between the grate’s bars. It was difficult to resist kissing the fingertip that ran up the whiskers beneath his mouth and settled at the center of his lower lip before moving to the upper lip and tracing its reaches.
“Not inside convent walls,” she agreed. “Perhaps ere I knew your kiss, but not after.” Smiling sorrowfully, she settled to her heels, and whatever next she spoke was unheard past the shattering awareness someone approached.
“We are no longer alone, Nicola,” he rasped. “The cell beside mine should not be locked. Hasten inside and into the corner alongside the door.”
She acted immediately, but not soon enough. As she pushed the door inward, the voice of one from whom she had the most to fear at Red Castle shot down the passage.
“Dear lady, imagine my curiosity when upon the ramparts I overheard guards who should be keeping watch over the king’s great enemy boasting of the women and drink they will buy with the coin paid them by the prince.”
Hearing footsteps Daryl no longer sought to muffle, Vitalis said low, “Your dagger, Nicola.”
She took a step back into his line of sight, and he saw already she gripped its handle behind her.
“Of course I had to discover the reason the whelp bought a private audience with Vitalis,” Daryl said, advancing leisurely. “And look, it is not him here but you. Once more playing the harlot, Lady Nicola? Buying favors with your body?”
Pain coursed Vitalis’s bunched knuckles that longed to pound flesh and blood. And sharper that pain when the knave drew near enough to be seen through the grate.
Further Nicola turned her back to Vitalis, and past her ear Vitalis met the traitor’s eyes.
Daryl grinned, shifted his regard to Nicola, and scraped his gaze over her. “What is behind your back, Lady? Something you would like to stick in me like your lover stuck a blade in my sire?”
She drew the dagger from behind her. “You would be foolish to think I am incapable of doing you great harm.”
Buckling his brow, he set his head to the side. “I warrant you have skills, but you are no warrior. Should I decide to take what you give others, no contest would that be.”
“As told, foolish,” she said, then demanded. “What is it you want?”
“Though I had no intention of showing myself to the prince—wished only to scratch my curiosity—when I realized the voice of the one conversing with the captive belonged to a woman…” He shifted his gaze to Vitalis. “So now I am wondering how best to use this time ere the guards return. Sound the alarm, exposing Lady Nicola to greater derision for having sought out her lover? Tempting since more it will shame her family—especially the rebel leader’s keeper, Sir Maël, who believes himself superior. Much I would enjoy seeing that ugly face of his bloated with humiliation!”