Malia Martin (9 page)

Cyne waded from the water, and Aleene stared over his shoulder at the surging sea, biting her bottom lip and wondering. What was happening inside of her? What happened when Cyne touched her? She hardly noticed when her husband set her down on the sand. She did notice when he began pulling at the ties of her kirtle.

“Oh, no, Cyne, I . . . I can’t.” Aleene put her own hands over his. “Really, I’ll dry.”

Cyne shook his head and pulled at the ties again.

“Really, Cyne, it is not necessary. It is a warm day. The clothes will dry soon.”

Her husband wasn’t listening. He tugged at the now loose kirtle.

“What shall I do? Sit naked on the sand?”

Cyne’s fingers stilled, and he ducked his head. It felt almost as if he clenched his hands in the ties of her kirtle. Before she could look, though, he pulled his hands away and pointed toward the ocean. When he turned back to her the benign grin curved his lips. He nodded, pointed to the ocean and, again, tried to undress her.

“No!” Aleene backed away from him. “I can’t!” She backed away some more, only then realizing that her husband stood before her completely unclothed, his glorious, wet body shining as if made of gold.

“Oh dear!” Aleene quickly put her hand over her eyes. “Cyne! You are . . . you are . . .” She swallowed and continued to shield hef eyes. Above anything she wanted to look, see again her husband’s body, but that was wicked, wasn’t it? She let her fingers relax a bit. If she opened her eyes, she would see, and he would never know.

Before she could round up enough courage to look, her husband’s large, warm hand covered hers. He pulled her hand away from her eyes, and she felt his breath against her mouth, but his lips didn’t touch hers. Her entire body screamed with the nearness of Cyne’s, her lips yearned for the warmth of his. Opening her eyes, finally, she found Cyne’s face near hers. He leaned in closer, touching the tip of her nose with his.

She chewed at her bottom lip, knowing that much more of this turmoil and that lip would be shredded. With a heart-rending smile, Cyne backed away from her. When his hands
went to her gown, she did not protest. Deep in her mind, she wanted to stop him, wanted to keep her clothes about her, keep her shields in place, not allow herself to be so vulnerable. But she didn’t move. She did not help him. But she did not stop him either.

He removed everything but her small, thin chemise, which reached only to her thighs. Then, carefully, he stretched her clothing out on the sand. Aleene watched, keeping her eyes up, not wanting to see herself. She knew that her husband could see her body through her transparent chemise, and suddenly she was terribly ashamed. She did not want him to see her. To realize fully her darkness compared to his light. He would see her dark skin, the dark hair at the junction of her thighs.

But he seemed oblivious to that. For, when he finally turned to her, his eyes looked only at her face and he reached for her hand as a young child might. Burying her shame and reluctance deep in her mind, Aleene laid her hand in his, and again felt the connection between them like something out of a dream.

She followed him, the water not as cold as it had seemed before, churning up around her ankles, her knees, her thighs. When Cyne pulled on her hand, she sank down with him, letting the water lap around her neck.

He looked at her, that mischievous gleam back in his eyes. She returned his gaze, warily. When he let go of her hand and disappeared under the water, Aleene stood. And then she felt his hands around her ankles and yelled helplessly as he yanked her feet out from under her, and she fell backwards.

She came up sputtering, her hair a wet heavy mass. “Why you . . . oh!”

He laughed, the deep, rich sound sending a thrill of pure happiness through her heart. Arching her eyebrows at her husband, she folded her arms in front of her. “You think you are the only one with tricks up your sleeves?”

His eyes widened, and he held up his arms, turning them this way and that, then looking back at her and shaking his head.

Aleene slitted her eyes at him. “You have no sleeves, I see that.” As she circled her husband, she smiled, her heart jumping at the idea of play. She hadn’t played in forever. She realized suddenly that she loved to play. Turning, she made as if to leave, then swiveled around, cupping her hands and throwing a large spray of water at her husband.

He jumped backwards, his feet moving faster than the water would allow, and fell. Laughing, he emerged, already on the attack as he cupped his own hands and splashed water on her.

They played for a long time, splashing like children, dunking each other, laughing always. When finally they lay sprawled on the sand, the sun warming the chill from the cool sea, her husband’s hand laying against her thigh warming the chill from her heart, Aleene could not stop the smile that curved her lips.

She remembered her father playing in the waves with her when she was young. He had stretched out with her just as Cyne was doing now. Turning her head, Aleene looked at her husband, his eyes closed, face upturned, beads of water rolling slowly across his taut stomach, then quickly plunging over his side and falling to the ground. Childhood memories took flight with the warm breath of wind that teased her husband’s drying hair across his forehead.

He felt her gaze, she knew, for he moved his finger slightly against her thigh. And it seemed, for a moment, that he understood. Closing her eyes, Aleene turned her face so that she felt the full force of the sun against her eyelids. She reached down and put her
hand on top of his.

“My father swam with me here,” she said, then stayed silent for a long time, shocked that she had even said such intimate words. But she found herself continuing after awhile. “The people of the village didn’t understand. They believed swimming in such cold water should kill a person. But my father could not stay away from the ocean. It is a warm ocean where he was from. They swim in it often.”

Aleene drew in a deep breath and let it out. The warm sun seeped through her skin, the smell of brine tickled her nostrils. “I loved when he would bring me here. I didn’t realize how very strange it made us to the people of the village.” A dark feeling threatened to crowd out the rare moment of peace she felt. She shook her head as if she could physically dislodge it.

“They still think me strange, have always thought so. They would rather Aethregard be lord of Seabreeze than me, a woman, a woman of foreign blood.” Aleene pulled her hand from Cyne’s and sat up, wrapping her arms around her bent knees.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Cyne follow her movements. She squinted out at the blue horizon and licked at the salt on her lips. She had never voiced her inner thoughts, her fears. Never. When she had the opportunity, with her father, she hadn’t had any fears. It felt strange to hear the words out loud, hear her voice saying them. She found a stick and stabbed the sand with it.

“He was old, my father,” she said. “Nearly fifty when my mother had me. But I never thought him old, until he died. My mother said that his heart just quit working. The people blamed it on our ventures out into the icy waters.” She waved the stick toward the sea with a sigh. “They were happy he was dead.” She had cried then, for days she had cried, her seven-year-old mind not understanding the jubilant spirit of the people. They had never trusted the foreigner among them.

“They rejoiced when my mother married Tosig, the Thane from the north. He was one of them.” She broke the stick in half and threw it away from her, staring at nothing, seeing nothing.

Cyne stroked her hair, silently giving her understanding. And, yet, he did not understand. She knew that he did not, not really. He was a boy, a light-hearted, beautiful golden boy in a man’s body. She turned to him, forcing her memories away. Cyne leaned quickly over and kissed her cheek. She stiffened and turned toward the sea once more.

Why? Why did this man’s body awaken her woman’s body as no other had?

It frightened her and it invigorated her at the same time. She did not know how to handle such confusion. She looked at the man to whom she had just bared her soul. He grinned, stroking her hair again, then lowered himself back to the ground and closed his eyes. With a sigh, Aleene fingered her hair, spreading it about her shoulders so that it would dry.

She was confused. But she was happy, too. A wonderous emotion, one she had not felt since her seventh year. She had spoken to another human of feelings deep within her heart, shown another her fear. She should be even more afraid.

And yet, it was liberating. The fears didn’t seem as real, as debilitating. A breeze lifted goose pimples on her arms and she shivered. “We should go, Cyne.” She pushed herself up from the sand.

She took one more look at the cove as they reached the cliff above it, already missing the bittersweet experience of the day. Cyne held her hand as they walked back to Seabreeze,
his step light. She felt as her father must have felt, holding her by the hand as they returned home after a beautiful day of shirking duties and enjoying each other. The gatekeeper allowed their entrance, then tugged his forelock in salute. Aleene nodded, and took Cyne to wash before supper. Fear returned with a little trickle down her spine as she and Cyne readied for bed. She knew she must finish finally the deed of consummating her marriage. Her fingers shook as she loosened the tie of her tunic, but she breathed deeply and pushed the dark feelings away.

Aleene looked over at her husband. He sensed her, surely, for his head came up from his silent task of taking off his shoes. It was dark, and the tiny, sputtering candle only made it harder to see, it seemed. She wanted him to touch her again.

As if she had spoken the need aloud, Cyne stood and came to her, gathering her in his arms. “Cyne,” Aleene sighed into his chest. “Do you understand?” He said nothing, of course, only rocked her slightly. “No, you don’t, do you? And I am glad. You give me the
freedom I have not had in so long. With you I don’t have to constantly be on guard.”

He moved, picking her up and taking her to the bed. She kept her face buried in his chest as they lay down together. “I am so afraid. And yet, the fear seems conquerable now.”

Cyne stroked her back, her hair, rocking her slowly back and forth. “I loved my father so much. He was so strong.” Aleene smiled as she thought of her father. “He protected me from everything. It wasn’t until he died that I realized I was different, that I didn’t belong. And then my mother married Tosig, and . . .” Aleene stopped, her breathing coming in sharp, painful bursts as the image of Tosig emerged from the darkness of her mind. “And the people, they loved him. But I didn’t, couldn’t. And then . . .” But she stopped there. That part of the story she just could not say aloud.

“I fight for Seabreeze because my father is still here. He built it, and I feel him in the very wood. But I want it to be mine alone. I will not share it with anyone, especially Aethregard.” Aleene shook her head as Aethregard’s cold gray eyes materialized in her thoughts. “I cannot bear it.”

Cyne began to hum. It was a deep sound, re-verberating through his chest and warming her own. Aleene blinked, her memories receding at the sound. She was not used to sound from her husband and for a moment fear tickled the back of her neck and made her tremble.

And then she recognized the song. It was the lullaby her mother had sung to her at night. It was the song Aleene had sung that first night of their marriage. She tightened her arms around Cyne, letting herself float on the beautiful tones of her husband’s voice, turning away from the dark, ugly memories of her stepfather’s abuse.

Aleene fell asleep in her husband’s arms, her cheek against the hard wall of his chest, without consummating their marriage. When the light of the morning sun played against her closed lids, Aleene took a deep breath and wondered if she might not mate with her husband now, with the light of day full on them. The wicked thought came, she was sure, from the desperate need to get with child. She did not wish to mate with her husband for any kind of pleasure. No, never that.

She did desire to see him, though, constantly. With a small smile she opened her eyes and turned onto her side, seeking the golden glory of Cyne. Her husband was gone.

In terror, Aleene jumped out of bed and pulled on a gown. She searched the hall, finding only Berthilde. “Cyne.” Aleene gulped in air so that she could continue. “Have you seen Cyne?”

The furrow between Berthilde’s eyes deepened. “No, milady.”

Aleene did not allow the old woman to say anything more. With an agonized groan, she ran for the door and raced across the outer bailey, interrogating everyone she saw. Finally someone pointed to the gates that led outside the walls.

Aleene’s heart seemed to stop and she had to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths before she could find the strength to take up her skirts and leave the safe confines of the castle compound. With head bent into the relentless wind, Aleene nearly hollered herself hoarse bellowing Cyne’s name.

When she found him on the wall walk of the old Roman fort, she couldn’t decide whether to kiss him or kill him.

“Cyne!”

He looked up, surprise registering in his blue eyes before that horrible blankness took its place.

“Cyne, you are never to go anywhere without me!” She took his arms in hers and shook; he barely moved. “Never! Do you understand?”

He blinked, then looked into the air. Aleene sighed and followed his gaze to see a pigeon swoop down, circle over their heads, then head across the cliffs and out to sea. Aleene stared at it, puzzled. “Where on earth does that bird think it is going, France?” She laughed and shook her head, looking back at her husband. He stared at her, warily.

“Cyne, I am sorry for yelling, but you must be careful. Aethregard, the short, ugly man, does not like you.” She ran a hand up his arm and cupped his cheek. “He would do you harm, given the chance.”

Cyne nodded and turned his face away from her, looking out to sea. The wind whipped his long, blond hair around his head. Aleene sighed.

They stood there together for awhile in silence. And then Cyne laid his hand on the back of her head. She looked up, surprised, but he did not return her gaze, keeping his face turned toward the sea. His hand felt heavy as he cupped her head, then trailed his fingers through her hair and down her back. Taking her hand, Cyne turned down the walk. Aleene followed, wondering at the melancholy way Cyne continued to stare at the sea.