Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [520]
“I would do anything, anything to protect you, to reassure you . . .” Kevin said, his voice trembling with sincerity.
“I know men like to boast of their conquest of maidens,” she said. “How do I know you will not brag of it throughout Camelot, that you have the favor of the Queen’s kinswoman and have taken her maidenhood?”
“Trust me, I beg you, trust me—what can I do? What proof can I give you of my sincerity? You know that I am yours, body and heart and soul—”
And for a moment she was angry, I do not want your damned soul, she thought, close to weeping with tension and fear. He held her between his hands and whispered, “How? When will you be mine? What can I do to prove that I love you beyond all things?”
She said, hesitating, “I cannot take you to my bed. I sleep in a room with four of the Queen’s ladies, and any man who came there would be seized by the guards—”
He said, bending again to cover her hands with kisses, “My poor little love, I would never bring shame on you. I have a place of my own—a little chamber fit for a dog, mostly because none other of the King’s men wishes to share quarters with me. I do not know if you would dare to come there.”
“Surely there must be some better way . . .” she whispered, keeping her voice soft and tender. Damn you, how can I suggest it without dropping this pretense of maidenly innocence and stupidity . . . ? “I cannot think of anywhere within the castle where we could be truly safe, and yet—” She stood and pressed herself against him, where he sat, her breasts just nudging his brow.
He flung his arms around her and buried his face in her body, his shoulders shaking. Then he said, “At this season—it is warm and fair and there is little rain. Would you dare to come out of doors with me, Nimue?”
She murmured as artlessly as she could, “I would dare anything to be with you, my love.”
“Then—tonight . . . ?”
“Oh,” she whispered, shrinking, “the moonlight is so bright, we should be seen . . . wait a few days, then there will be no moon. . . .”
“When the moon is dark—” Kevin flinched, and she knew that here was the moment of danger, the moment when the carefully played fish might slip off the hook and out of the net and be free. In Avalon the priestesses secluded themselves at moon-dark, and all magic was suspended . . . but he knew not that she was of Avalon.
Would his fear or his desire win out? She was motionless, just fluttering her fingers within his. He said, “That is an uncanny time—”
“But I am afraid to be seen. . . . You do not know how angry the Queen would be with me, if she knew I was such a wanton as to desire you . . .” she said, holding herself a little closer to him. “Surely you and I do not need a moon to see one another. . . .”
He held her tight, his face buried in her breasts, covering them with hungry kisses. And then he whispered, “My little love, let it be as you will, be the moon light or dark . . .”
“And you will take me away from Camelot afterward? I do not want to be shamed . . .”
“Anywhere,” he said, “I swear it . . . I will swear it by your God, if you will.”
She murmured, bending her head close to him, her hands moving through the sweet clean curliness of his hair, “The Christian God does not like lovers, and hates it when women lie with men . . . swear it by your God, Kevin, swear it by the serpents around your wrists. . . .”
He whispered, “I swear,” and the meaning of the oath seemed to ripple the air around them both.
Oh, fool, you have sworn to your death. . . . Nimue shivered, but Kevin, his face still hidden against her breasts, his hot breath damping her gown, was oblivious to anything except her breasts under his lips. As a promised lover he took the privilege of touching, kissing, drawing her gown aside a little to cup them in his hands. “I do not know how I can bear to wait.” And she murmured, “No, nor I,” and meant it with all her heart.
I would that this was done. . . .
The moon would not be visible, but the