Witchrise (21 page)

His finger brushed my cheek, feather-light, and I realized that he was trembling. Then his thumb dragged slowly along my lower lip, his dark gaze following the movement.

‘Alejandro, what . . . what are you doing?’

‘Something I should have done a year ago.’ His look was savagely hungry as he searched my face, hunting for some sign that I felt the same. It took every ounce of my strength not to kiss him there and then. But that would be madness. I still knew
that
, at least. ‘Meg, I love you. I would die for you. I hope you know that.’

‘I don’t want you to die for me,’ I whispered. ‘Alejandro, please, we can’t do this. It’s not what you want. Not in your heart.’

‘Then order me to leave your bedchamber,’ he challenged me. ‘Slap my face. Throw me out. I will not argue with you,
mi alma
.’

I could not take my eyes off him. ‘Listen, this thing between us . . . you know it will not end well. It never could. That’s why you must give up on me, Alejandro.’

‘I will,’ he promised, lowering his head with painstaking slowness. ‘But not yet.’

His kiss burned me up from the inside, like setting a torch to stacked brushwood that had stood too long in the sun. Our mouths and bodies met at the same time, pressing intimately together, and then it was too late to stop.

I felt my heart take off, racing alongside his as we forgot sanity and discipline, and kissed like lovers.

Alejandro made a rough noise under his breath, then slammed his fist against the door as though suddenly furious with himself. ‘
Dios!
’

Yet he did not pull back as I expected.

‘
Si, mi amor
,’ he muttered.

His mouth worked more hotly against mine now, tempting me like the Devil, persuading my lips to open. Utterly lost, I kissed him back, thrusting my hands into his short dark hair, forgetting everything except him.

Suddenly Alejandro groaned, then lifted me in his arms, turning to lay me on the narrow bed. He came down beside me on the mattress, throwing one possessive arm about my body, his gaze locked with mine as we stared at each other, both trying to read the other’s secrets.

I could see from his face that he too felt dazed and off-balance, as though something between us had shifted, tilting us both into more dangerous territory. Had coming so perilously close to death done this?

‘Meg.’ He bent to kiss my throat, his lips warm against my skin. ‘I must tell you something important.’

‘What?’ I murmured, my face flushed with heat.

‘What you saw of me today, I am sorry for it . . .’

I thought he meant being taken over by Marcus Dent, and tried to reassure him. ‘It was a spell. He controlled all of us – it was not your fault.’

‘No,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Not that. When I opened my eyes, and saw what was happening . . . I knew I had to finish him, or he was going to kill you.’

‘Hush,’ I reassured him, stroking my hands through his thick black hair. ‘I understand, you wanted to protect me.’

‘Back in Spain, we were taught to fight as young novices, permitted to wear a sword and dagger, even to ride into battle if the King ordered it,’ he told me, his voice muffled against my neck. ‘But we were still training to be priests, members of a holy order, and so the taking of a man’s life must always be a last resort. What I did today, it was not easy for me. I have not trained to be a priest so that I can kill. That is not the man I want to be.’

‘I know,’ I whispered.

He lifted his head, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. I wanted to kiss them away, to make everything better. But I knew it would take more than kisses – more than my love – to heal whatever was hurting him so badly inside.

‘Is there something you have not told me, Alejandro? Some secret you are keeping from me?’

He said nothing, shaking his head, but his smile was bitter. I was right; he was hiding something from me. But what? He would tell me when he was ready, I told myself feverishly, and hoped I was not mistaken.

I stroked his cut face, my heart aching to see him so hurt. ‘You are injured. Let me clean this for you.’

‘It’s nothing, leave it.’

Alejandro bent, touching his lips to mine, and my heart began to thud again. He leaned above me, pressing close. I could feel the hard line of his body against mine and it lit a fire in me that I could not quite control.

His hands played with my hair, breathing in the pale strands, then he cupped my face, holding me still while he kissed me so deeply I thought I would faint.

There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted me, nor that I wanted him just as badly in return.

He rested his forehead against mine, the veins in his throat standing out with the effort of not kissing me. ‘Meg, Meg, I’m drowning.’

Daringly I kissed his throat and heard his muffled protest. But we had nearly died out there today. How could it be wrong to want to love him, to celebrate with our bodies that we were alive, that we had survived Marcus Dent’s assault?

Suddenly Alejandro pushed me back against the mattress and kissed me hard, pinning me down with his body. I was breathless and trembling by the time he raised his head again, shocked and more than a little excited by the raw emotion between us.

‘Forgive me,’ he managed hoarsely. ‘I should not have kissed you like that. But I’ve held back so long, it was hard to stop.’

I was so breathless and dizzy, my lips still tingling from his kiss, it took me a moment to respond. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. I was not unwilling.’

His dark eyes glittered as he absorbed what I was saying. ‘How you tempt me,
mi querida.
If you knew what was in my mind . . .’

‘I think it may be in mine too,’ I whispered.

‘Ah, don’t . . . please.’

The muttered words sounded tortured. I touched him lightly, one hand brushing down his body, and his jaw clenched hard.

‘Would it be so very wrong?’ I asked quietly.

‘You know it would. And why.’ His face was stiff. ‘You said it yourself when you allowed me in here.’

Because I had refused to marry him. But did that mean we could not love each other? Bitterness and despair coiled inside me. Of course it did. It meant the end of everything between us. He was not the kind of man to take advantage of a woman like that.

And yet I still wanted him. ‘Alejandro . . .’

He rolled over onto his back, shaking his head, but stayed close beside me on the narrow bed, our bodies astonishingly hot where they touched.

He sounded almost furious. But not with me, I realized. ‘There’s plenty for you to forgive, Meg. You don’t know the truth.’

‘Then tell me.’

‘
Ay, Dios mio!
’ Alejandro fell silent for a moment, then replied unsteadily, ‘No, some things I cannot tell you. You must trust me to do what is right for you. My silence will keep you safe.’

‘I can keep myself safe.’

He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Is that so, my love? Because you did not look very safe, facing Marcus Dent out there with nothing but that crooked old wand in your hand. You looked about a hair’s-breadth from being annihilated.’

My love.

I savoured the sound of those words in my head.

‘My mother’s wand may be old, but I can assure you it is not crooked,’ I corrected him, my voice dignified, but my hand wriggled down nonetheless to seek his and squeeze it. ‘Alejandro, will you always kiss me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like the world is about to end.’

He turned his head, smiling at me wryly. ‘It does feel that way,
mi amor
. And that is why we must take care never to be alone together again. Because
this
 . . . this is rapidly becoming the thing I cannot live without.’

He caught my wrist on that last word and pulled me slowly towards him, making his intention plain long before our lips met, as though giving me the opportunity to refuse this time. But of course I did not, knowing this intimacy must end yet desperate at the same time for it to continue.

His mouth opened against mine in a long drugging kiss that left us both hot and breathless.

For a long while afterwards we lay together in drowsy silence, turned warmly into each other, my head on his chest, his arm loosely linked about my waist.

‘Need to sleep,’ I mumbled, my eyelids so heavy I could not seem to keep them open.

‘Then sleep.’

‘I have my duties . . .’

‘You saved the princess’s life today, Meg. I think you may be granted a few hours’ respite from your duties.’

Eventually I slept, my whole body weary and bruised from the long fight against Marcus.

When I woke, the room had darkened into twilight. I yawned, stretching out stiff limbs, and felt Alejandro shift away from me awkwardly.

It felt strange to be lying next to him on a bed. I could not quite believe what had happened.

‘Hello,’ Alejandro murmured in my ear.

I turned my head to look at him. ‘Hello.’ There was an odd expression in his eyes that made me frown. ‘What is it? What is the matter now?’

‘You snore,’ he said plaintively.

‘I do not!’

‘Just a little, when you are deep asleep. Through your nose.’ He pinched his nose shut and made a quiet droning noise through it. ‘But I am relieved you are awake at last. I feared I might have to stifle you with a pillow to get some rest.’

‘Beast!’

He smiled, and his gaze moved to my mouth. ‘Sometimes, yes,
mi alma
. But I am your beast.’

I shivered at the intimacy in his eyes and voice, and sat up, tidying my dishevelled hair. ‘It’s late, we should go downstairs.’

What we had done – sleeping together on my bed while the household was quiet – was dangerous enough for our hearts. But it was also strictly against the Lady Elizabeth’s wishes. The room had grown dark, and I knew supper would soon be served downstairs in the Great Hall. If we did not make our way down there, we would be missed.

Then I saw that the door was slightly ajar, and realized someone must have peeped in and seen us lying together on the bed, then gone away again. My cheeks burned.

‘What is it?’ Alejandro asked softly, taking my hand and kissing the inner skin of my wrist.

‘I think someone may have seen us together.’

He glanced back at the partially open door, then shrugged. ‘Do not concern yourself. We lay together, yes, but only to sleep.’ His voice deepened. ‘There is nothing to be ashamed of in that. At least, I am not ashamed of it. If you would marry me—’

‘I have already said no.’

He did not answer, but instead turned his head away, not moving. Then he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. But his shoulders were bowed, and I knew from the way he fingered his cheek that his cut must still be painful.

There was some noise from below. I guessed from the clattering and the raised voices that supper was being laid out for us in the Great Hall. I fumbled with the tinderbox in the gloom until he came over and lit the candle for me, his expression shuttered.

‘Thank you.’ I raised the candle to examine his face. He seemed to flinch at my touch, but at least the blood had dried, the cut crusting over. The edges were red, sore-looking. ‘Come down to the kitchen, I will bathe that cut for you in salt water. Else it will be infected by tomorrow, trust me.’

He nodded, his eyes searching my face. His hand caught my wrist when I would have turned away.

‘Meg,’ he began uncertainly.

Someone shouted up from the hall below: Blanche Parry calling my name.

‘Supper must be ready,’ I whispered, still waiting. ‘What do you want to say to me?’

‘Another time,
mi querida
.’

With obvious reluctance, Alejandro took the candle from me and we wandered down the stairs together in a thick silence, both a little drowsy and flushed after our long rest.

I had expected to hear the usual hubbub of voices from our small company as I descended. But though a fire was burning in the hearth, and supper was laid out on the long table, those gathered in the hall below were silent.

‘Meg.’ The Lady Elizabeth spoke sharply, coming to the foot of the stairs. ‘You have a visitor. I sent Blanche to fetch you downstairs, but she came back and told me you were . . .’ There was a flush in her cheeks as she glanced from me to Alejandro, her face stiff. ‘Asleep.’

‘Forgive me, my lady. I should not have slept so long.’

I was hot-cheeked myself, hearing the open accusation in her voice. The princess had told me to stay away from Alejandro, to avoid being alone with him. Instead, I had curled up to sleep with him in my chamber.

Yet how could Elizabeth be angry with me when she felt every bit as lovesick about Robert Dudley? At least Alejandro was not
married
!

Then her words slowly sank in. ‘A . . . a visitor, did you say?’

I paused on the last stair, and looked across towards the hearth. A strange woman was standing in front of the fire, a wild look on her face. Her clothes were simple, her hood and cloak those of a country woman on a journey, but she had a striking face, lined with years but with such bright and intelligent eyes she looked almost young. The staff she carried was surely magickal, for those were astrological symbols carved into the wood.

And she was staring straight at me.

‘Meg Lytton.’ She came forward, studying me as intently as I had just studied her. ‘I have come here to speak with you on a matter of great urgency.’

I glanced at the Lady Elizabeth, but she had returned to the fireside with her ladies, clearly unwilling to speak with this wild-looking woman.

‘Forgive me if I am discourteous,’ I said directly to our visitor, ‘but I do not know you. What is your name, mistress?’

‘My name is Gilly Goodwife,’ she told me, unsmiling. ‘Once upon a time, when I was a girl and still unmarried, I lived in Oxfordshire and was friend to your mother, Catherine Canley.’

We sat cross-legged under dark, broad-trunked trees, facing each other across the circle Gilly Goodwife had drawn in the dirt with her staff. In the centre burned a roughly made fire, damp stacked wood hissing, the air thickening with smoke. I watched Gilly through the leap of flames, and tried to imagine her and my mother and my aunt Jane together as powerful young women, the three of them sitting around a magickal fire just like this one.