Page 76 of My Hero
He shouldn’t.
And yet his feet carried him forward, toward the inviting gap in the garden wall.
Slowly the gate swung inward under his hand. It creaked low, widening the wedge of light. A few pale apple blossoms fluttered to the ground, glowing softly in the refined light.
And then he saw her.
She sat on the sod bench between the deep shadows of the willow, bathed in moonlight. Her sorrowful face was turned toward him, as if she’d been weeping and waiting for him forever.
He held his breath, wanting only to look at her. God—she was beautiful, more stunning than the stars. How he longed to hold this moment for all eternity. He stood absolutely quiet, certain that breathing, speaking, moving, might destroy the fragile bond that mere gazing forged.
Yet, however he yearned for her, he was also her friend and her priest. So against his better instincts, his feet propelled him forward. He pressed the gate closed behind him, slumping back against it, knowing as he did that he sealed his fate as well.
There was no turning back.
A whiff of cursed jasmine beckoned him. Taking a deep surrendering breath, he walked toward her. Shadows of branches snaked over his cassock like Eden’s serpent, as if in warning. And yet, he could no more resist the temptation to go to her than Adam could resist Eve.
She waited for him, her hands clasped patiently in her lap, till he stood but an arm’s length away. Her eyes shone translucent and trusting and deeply melancholy as they searched his face, the filtered moonlight glazing them to a pewter sheen. Shadows of leaves played across her parted lips. Once, he thought with a twinge of yearning, he had tasted those lips. They were sweet and warm and yielding.
He wouldn’t think about it.
“My lady, you should be in bed.”
“Should I have let the boy die?” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Is that what troubles you?”
How fragile she looked, like a newborn fawn, unsure where to step. He wanted to curse Philip for planting such doubt into her head.
“Maybe itwasGod’s will,” she said brokenly.
He seized her by the shoulders, forcing her gaze to his. “God gave you that gift. It’s a wondrous thing. He meant for you to use it. Never doubt that.”
“But Philip—”
“To hell with Philip!” She flinched at his words, and he could have bitten his tongue. “Forgive me. It’s not my place to…judge. But Philip doesn’t understand your gift. However well-meaning he is, he’ll never accept it.”
She lowered her head. “I don’t love him, you know,” she confessed in a whisper. “I never did. I only wanted to please Roger and Elspeth and John and the people of Wendeville. But I don’t love him.”
Garth blew out a long and shaky breath.
She continued. “And I fear I’ll dishonor him if I wed him while…”
A tendril of hair blew softly across her face. Without thinking, he reached down and brushed the silky strand back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “While?”
She caught his wrist gently, like a child trapping a sparrow. She closed her eyes and pressed his hand against the warm column of her neck.
Despite her serene countenance, he could feel her pulse beating wildly against his palm. A rush of pleasure shot through him at the heat of her touch, so long imagined, so long denied.
“While my heart belongs to another,” she murmured.
His heart careened recklessly against his ribs. He should pull back, he knew. She was a lady, and he… But he’d known that when he stepped across the threshold. It was too late now. Desire tugged at him like the tenacious undercurrent of the sea.
“It’s you I love,” she whispered. “It’s always been you.” She turned her head slightly, and he felt her moist breath upon his hand. She placed a tender kiss in his palm, then another, and another. He watched in wonder, breathless, as she worshipped his fingers one by one, her own breath fluttery and uncertain, her eyes squeezed as if in delicious torment.
“We mustn’t,” he choked out.
She caressed the tip of his finger with her tongue, and a charge like lightning seared his loins. His legs weakened, and he sucked a sigh hard between his teeth. A roaring grew inside his head, like a feral lion demanding release.
