Twelve Kisses (6 page)

Her calling him was enough. He hammered them together and knew
he was complete.

“
The mistletoe is there, look! I can see it!”

Even as she spoke, Alis was clambering the tree in the old
apple and pear orchard, scrambling like a squirrel. Snow shuttered
down over David’s head and shoulders, and he laughed and
mock-roared.

I feel so happy
, she thought, weaving
along a branch. It was the twelfth day of their time alone. Finally
the snowstorms had stopped, and they had gone riding. Today they
had ventured into the drifts of snow to gather winter greenery for
the cottage. Impatient to be out and unable to find her mittens,
she was wearing a pair of David’s gloves, far too big, but she did
not care. She had always been a good climber.

She missed her footing, slithered on the snowy side of the
branch and dropped, in a slow, horrible glide that she could not
stop—

“
Oof!” He caught her, knocking breath from her and him. It was
like being snared by a statue come to life—he was as firm as a
stone. Though she plucked at his hands, she could not shift them
until he chose to let her down.

“
Idiot. Did I not say there was no hurry?” David took the
mistletoe bough she had managed to grasp before she fell and tucked
the end of the bough into his jerkin, the waxy leaves and glossy
white berries hanging down into the snow. “You need a man to take
care of you, that is for sure.”

He tugged off her coif, ignoring her protests as her hair
tumbled out.

“
I like your hair that way, it reminds me of
bedtime.”

“
It is not noon yet, and we are gathering greenery.”

He gave a low bow, drawing a semi-circle in the fallen snow
with his sweeping arm. “At my lady’s request.” He capered for her,
and she had to stifle a giggle. These past few days, David had
become more open, more playful, less of the hardened warrior and
more and more the lover.

If only he would tell me he loves me.

“
Idiot,” she said in turn, pretending to ignore his antics by
looking about. “We really are in a world of our own.”

He came behind her, dropping the ivy and other greenery they
had already gathered, and hugged her. “Fine to me.” He rested his
chin on the top of her head.

She almost said, “You grow bristling,” for fair as he was, his
stubble was beginning to show but did not want to spoil the
moment.

They looked over the snow-clad valley and fields. The fire in
the cottage behind the old orchard issued a long plume of smoke,
but otherwise, there was no sign of habitation nor of other human
beings. The road was lost behind a stand of trees and the bells of
a distant, unseen church drifted to them in the still
air.

David dropped his hands from her middle. He stepped in front
of her to shield her. “Someone comes.” His voice was clipped, grim
again.

Now she heard it, a rush and yapping of hounds then the
growing thunder of horses.

“
A dozen men, no more, not in armor,” said David. He pulled her
behind a holly bush growing in the hedge at the edge of the
orchard. “Let us pray they do not see our tracks.” He squeezed her
hand. “They shall not hurt you, I swear. I would die
first.”

“
Hush!” Quickly, Alis made the sign of the
cross against such ill fortune. She felt about for her eating
dagger, prepared to defend herself, if need be.
I will not be a burden to David. I may be a Yorkist, but I can
fight, too.

“
Hello? David Haveton, the farrier?” called one then several
voices.

“
David!”

David stiffened. “That is Sir Roger!”

“
David,” Sir Roger shouted. “Devil take you, man, where are
you? I would see this wench of yours, the one you broke a betrothal
pledge to marry!”

Now David turned to face her, his blue eyes dark, his whole
face stricken, as if he had aged by years. “That is not true!” he
protested, his voice low as if in pain. “I never promised
another!”

Sir Roger called out again. “I have Margaret here, for she is
your true wife.”

“
Never!” David dropped to his knees before Alis. “He lies! He
wanted this marriage for politics, for usefulness, but I did not!
Before God, Alis, I swear it! I love you! I have loved you since
you were but ten and four, and I have always loved you!”

At his impassioned, desperate declaration, emotion stormed
through her so strong it made her sway on her feet. David caught
her, and Alis wrapped her arms around him, feeling a hard shudder
run through his body.

“
Alis, please—”

She longed to soothe him, but at the same time was tempted to
shake him for making her wait so long before he spoke the love
words she had so wanted to hear. Now, though, was not the time to
scold her husband.
He needs my
support.

“
Hush,” she whispered. “We must meet them. I
love you, and all will be well, I promise.” She hugged him tightly
then let him go. She hated the thought of such an encounter but
knew they must.
The woman here, too! Is she
pretty? Is she blonde?

“
Alis, I swear to you, I do not know this Margaret. She is a
name to me, no more.”

She lifted her hand, and he fell silent at once. Her heart
twisted within her, to see him so confounded, so unnaturally
humble. “They cannot un-marry us,” she said. “I love you,
David.”

She held out her arm to help him up, but he rose and took her
hand in his again. “Then let us go down,” he said.
“Together.”

The woman was indeed blonde and very tall and
skinny
. A tall, pale
icicle
, thought Alis, marking how Margaret
never looked at David, or at her. Sir Roger raged, and David
answered. Through it all, Alis clung to the simple, wonderful
fact—David loved her. David had always loved her.

They were outside the cottage since David refused the
newcomers entry to his house. Sir Roger and the silent, stately
blonde remained on horseback, his men dismounted, steam from the
horses rising and tempers, too.

“
I am my own man,” David said. “I never agreed to any
betrothal. Your pardon, madam, if you were told
otherwise.”

Margaret looked down her long nose but said nothing. They
might have been discussing the weather she was so
indifferent.

She does not care for any of this
,
Alis thought.
She is here to support Sir
Roger in this scheme, but she wishes no more than that. She neither
knows David nor cares a penny for him
.

“
I gave no ring, nor any vow,” David said. “Let the lady speak
and prove otherwise.”

“
And I do have a ring,” Alis said, stepping forward. Conscious
of her bare head, she walked proudly around the circle of followers
and right up to the pale blonde, stopping by her stirrup. “My lord
is my husband,” she said, looking straight into the woman's narrow
eyes. “Can you say the same?”

“
Your family are Yorkists!” snapped Sir Roger, a red-faced,
corpulent beefy fellow, perched like an angry crab apple on top of
his black horse.

“
As is the queen,” answered Alis mildly. “Would you say our
king regrets his choice?”

There was a moment of absolute silence. Sir Roger's face was
frozen in mid-shout, and the blonde woman, Margaret, no longer
indifferent, looked ready to faint.

“
I will take any test,” Alis continued. “My husband is my lord,
and I am his wife, married before witnesses at the door of the
church. I will take any ordeal. Will you do that,
Margaret?”

“
Enough!” growled David. He stamped across to her and reclaimed
her hand. “We are handfasted and wed, and any who say otherwise
must fight me.”

“
N—” Alis bit down on her objection, torn
between horror and pride
. David will fight
for me.
She clung hard to his hand and
prayed desperately for his protection, clenching her teeth as a
warrior stepped forward.

“
I accept your challenge for our lord,” he said. “I have my
sword ready.”

David glanced at the tall, tanned soldier. “Let me find my
dagger and stave.”

“
Folly!” Sir Roger was now as white as the York rose. “Wood and
a dagger against steel? You would do that, David?”

“
For my wife, I would fight the devil himself. When we do
begin?”

The instant David spoke, the warrior yelled, charging at him,
and Alis screamed a warning. Her husband released her with a firm
push, and she tottered a few steps to regain her balance, desperate
to twist around and see David
. If I can
watch him, hold him in my eyes, pray God he will be
safe.

But David was faster and more nimble than the soldier. He
pivoted sideways, ducking under the man’s chopping blade, and
booted the fellow, catching the older man off-guard and knocking
him sprawling into a snowdrift.

“
Stop this,” Alis pleaded, unable to keep silent as the warrior
cursed and flailed in the snow, rising with a look of murder on his
bearded face. “My lord husband, my lord Roger, please! Has there
not been enough killing?”

She thought her heart-felt wish had fallen on deaf ears, but
Sir Roger spurred his horse between David and his adversary.
“Enough!” he bawled so loudly Margaret flinched.

“
No more, please,” Alis said again, steeling herself to remain
still.

Sir Roger stared at her and then at David, who looked prepared
and willing to fight for her barehanded, ready even after his
opponent had dishonorably charged too early. After a tense, hanging
instant, Sir Roger sighed, whether with exasperation or resignation
Alis dared not speculate, but she kept her countenance calm and
prayed.

Sir Roger was the first to look away. “David, this was not my
plan. If you are determined—”

“
I am,” said David.

“
We are,” said Alis.

With a brief nod to Alis, Sir Roger addressed her husband. “So
be it, David Haveton, and mayhap you deserve each other.
Come!”

Sir Roger spurred his black horse and cantered off, leaving
the hapless Margaret and his men to trail after him.

* * *
*

“
How did you know?” David asked, when the road and the
surrounding fields were silent again.

Alis smiled, light-headed in her relief, but still
sure.
David said he loves me. That he has
always loved me
. “For her, I knew it was
false because she never looked at you, not once. As your wife, I
cannot take my eyes off you.” She swung his large hand in hers. “My
handsome man.”

He gave a sharp bark of laughter and kissed her wedding
ring—the twelfth kiss, she understood at once. “And for me? How did
you know for me?”

“
You told me you loved me—by your words and by your
deeds.”

As she spoke, Alis understood something else. His words were
the promise, but his deeds were the proof. By his deeds, by keeping
her warm and safe and entertained—in all ways—David had proved his
love.

“
You give me honor,” she said.

He closed his eyes and rocked slightly. “Thank God. Truly, I
never thought Sir Roger so determined to win his own way, so
outrageous—and the poor woman, too.”

“
Forget her,” Alis said quickly. “He will
find her another husband soon enough. But she cannot have
mine
.”

“
Thank God,” David said again.

For both of us
, Alis thought, but as a
good wife, she said nothing, allowing her husband to take her into
his arms and to kiss her, most heartily.

Their twelve days, their twelve kisses, were
complete.

Lindsay Townsend is fascinated by ancient world and medieval
history and writes historical romance covering these periods. She
also enjoys thrillers and writes both historical and contemporary
romantic suspense. When not writing, Lindsay enjoys spending time
with her husband, gardening, reading and taking long, languid baths
– possibly with chocolate.