“Your papa?” Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. “Your papa told the king?”
“Aye, Mama. ”
She swallowed tightly. “Your Papa did not know—oh, I did not believe he knew. I did not tell him. ’Twas my greatest sin…. ” Dear God, she was cursed. Damned!
If Merle knew that Maris was not of his loins, it would have been no hardship to tell him of Bon’s threats…and why he could not betrothe her to Victor. Instead, she had lived the lie, protected it for eighteen years. Now Merle was dead, and she still had judgment to face. A sudden trembling overtook her and she stuffed her hands into the folds of her skirts.
“I must go to confession. ” She stood abruptly, moving without hesitation and without a backward glance, to the door. She ignored Maris’s shocked stare as she swept from the chamber.
Later, when night had come, and when Allegra had said enough paternosters and Ave Marias, she hoped, to salvage her soul, she crept from the chapel, tucking her graying hair into her veil. She cast about, looking for a page, a maidservant, someone to guide her back to the ladies’ chamber.
“Allegra. ”
The smooth voice from the shadows caused her heart to leap into her throat, and she whirled to face him. “Michael! Oh, Michael!”
“Sshhh,” he admonished, stepping fully into the light. He pressed a finger against her dry lips with a soft caress, “‘Tis not meet for us to be seen together. ”
“Why? Why should we care?” she said, just so she could feel her mouth moving against his beloved flesh.
“Come. ” He dropped his hand from her lips and grasped her own fingers, firmly tugging her along in his wake.
Allegra followed. She would do anything he bid—and he drew her along in the shadows of the dark hall. Reaching a small alcove, he pulled her inside and into a bare chamber, then into his embrace.
With a cry of delight, she pulled his face to hers, sampling his mouth with her starving lips. “Michael,” she sighed. “Oh, my beloved, how I have missed you. I thought to lose you yet again after you left Langumont. ”
His hands were warm and possessive over the swell of her hips, pressing into her the need that pulsed at his groin. “You are my only love,” he told her as his mouth slid to the hollow of her neck. “Marry me. Dearling, be my wife. ” He pulled back so that she could see the glitter of hope and desire in his eyes.
“Oh, aye, Michael, aye. ’Tis half my life I have waited to hear those words of your lips!” Her hands were busy, pulling his tunic up so that she could feel his warm, solid chest against her fingers.
“’Tis a lifetime I have waited to utter them. ” He helped her by yanking off his tunic, then pushing his chausses down past his waist. Michael slid her to the floor, pulling up her gown so that it bunched above her hips. When he thrust inside of her welcoming body, she cried at the pleasure of it, raising and lowering herself to meet his rhythm.
With a sharp, guttural groan, he met his end, and she with him. They lay for a moment in a heap of tangled clothing, sweat, and lust.
“Let us marry on the morrow,” he suggested, pressing a kiss behind her ear, at a place that never failed to cause her to shiver.
“But, Michael, what of the banns? We cannot find a priest to marry us so soon! And what of Maris?”
“I have already paid a priest to marry us without calling the banns. I meant to ask you tonight and could not bear to wait any longer than need be. He awaits us on the morrow. And,” he slid his tongue into the depths of her ear, sending a sharp, pleasant twinge down her spine, “let us not tell Maris as yet…she may look askance at us for marrying so soon after Merle’s death. ”
Allegra pulled away as a thought struck her. “Did you tell Maris that you are her natural father?”
Michael peered down at her in the dim light as if trying to read her face. “What did you say?”
“Her betrothal to Victor was repudiated and now she is to marry Lord of Ludingdon…was it you who told the king of her relation to your son so that he would deny the betrothal?”
Michael nodded. “Aye, he was prepared to formalize the contracts between them, and I could do naught but step forward and share the truth with him. ’Twas all for the best. Dirick of Derkland seems a fine fellow. ”
Allegra nodded, pleased at his concern for their daughter, and overwhelmed by the comfort of his nearness. “I have never stopped loving you, Michael, and I cannot believe that we shall be husband and wife at last!”
She felt him smile against her cheek. “Aye. ’Tis all that I have ever hoped for. ”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Dirick leaned heavily against Raymond’s shoulder, his head reeling from the large amount of ale he’d imbibed at The Blue Goat, The Bow and the Apple, The King’s Shield…and all of the other places his men had been dragging him to.
“This way, m’lord,” directed Raymond, his voice slightly slurred. The party of men stumbled along the street, their way lit as much by the full moon as by the lanterns that hung intermittently about.
“I know where I am,” growled Dirick, struggling to hold his head upright. It was not the best thing to do the night before one’s wedding, but it had been impossible to deny his men their chance to celebrate his marriage and the betterment of his position as well—for his increase in stature with the king translated into their own improvement.