Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [30]
“I have tried to put honor above my feelings,” he said. “I have tried to hold back. But what I feel is the truth. It is all I can give you.”
“You must stop,” she said breathlessly. “This must not happen.”
“It already has—”
“No!” She shook her head. “Nothing has happened. Nothing wilt happen.”
“If you claim you feel nothing for me, then you lie.”
She drew back, but he would not release her hands.
“Answer me!” he commanded. “Do you not feel anything?”
Her eyes flashed. “Will you force me to lie?”
“Tell me the truth.”
She broke free of his hold and scrambled to her feet, retreating swiftly when he followed her. “I cannot say the truth,” she said unsteadily. “You know I cannot. Caelan, he will have you killed when he finds out.”
And you, Caelan thought to himself, but neither of them said that aloud. He took another half step toward her. “He won’t know—”
“He will! He always knows.” She turned her face away so that she stood half in moonlight, half in shadow. “Kostimon has mysterious powers too. Knowledge given to him by ...” Her voice trailed off.
“I know you are his wife,” Caelan said, struggling to voice what he had held back for so long. “I know my feelings for you are forbidden. That’s why I prayed you would not choose me as your protector. Yet what I feel cannot be denied. Elan—”
“Please don’t say my name here,” she said in sudden panic, rushing to him to press her fingers against his lips. “They don’t know my name yet. Please don’t say it.”
He took her fingers and kissed them. “I have dreamed of you.
You are empress, and I am no one, a former slave. Yet in my dreams we have always walked together.”
“Dreams?” she said in startlement. “You have dreamed of us?”
“I know you must think I am mad, but even if I die for it, I will not deny my passion.”
Again he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. This time, shyly, she returned his kiss, then pulled away. “You have said too much. Stop now. We must both stop now.”
“A condemned man can say all he wants,” Caelan told her thickly.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, passionately until her breath was his breath and their hearts beat in rhythm. He touched her with sevaisin, rejoining their spirits, their hearts, their minds.
When they fell apart for breath at last, she was crying.
Aghast at what he had done, he wiped away her tears with her fingers. They were warm on his skin, and he realized he had let his emotions carry them both too far.
“Please don’t cry,” he said. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”
She clung to him, weeping harder. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I cannot explain.”
In silence he held her, and her tears cooled his ardor. As his head cleared, he realized he had been a fool. In a moment he had swept aside all his good and noble intentions. He had rushed her like a beast and frightened her. He had done everything he had sworn to himself he would not do. Now it lay in the open, and they would have to deal with it, or have it dealt with by others.
He rocked her in his arms like a child, loving her, adoring her, knowing they had no time for this, aware that their danger increased with every passing second. Yet this moment had come to him like a gift, a single opportunity impossible to relinquish. He had stolen it, and he gloried in it even as it faded for them both.
“I am sorry,” he whispered again. “I would not cause you a moment’s pain. Yet I have broken my vow never to reveal my heart to you.”
She buried her face against his shoulder. How good she felt against him like this. How perfectly she fitted in his arms. He felt protective and invincible. All his strength seemed made only for the purpose of shielding her from harm.
“You are good and courageous,” he told her. “You are brave and wonderful and infinitely precious. I honor you with all my heart, and I do not wish to bring you grief or unhappiness. Yet here I have made you cry. And now you are wondering what we will do, and all I can offer is