Violet Eyes (5 page)

Violet lifted the blankets and lay down on her bed. She tucked the blankets around them both and then wrapped her body around him. He shivered and then turned toward her.

She lay still, trying to quiet the pounding of her heart. Violet had never been so close to a man. She could feel his breath on her cheek. After a while she could feel warmth returning to his skin, and she began to relax. She dozed fitfully.

Just before dawn she finally rose. Prince Richard was sleeping deeply, and his skin no longer felt cold to the touch. Her father was standing in front of the fireplace eating a piece of bread.

William gestured toward the door, and they walked outside. “How is he?” William asked, once they were clear of the house.

“He stopped shivering a little while ago. He seems to be warm again, and he’s sleeping. How’s Mother?”

“Sleeping as well. I think they both had a lot more sleep than either of us,” he said, smiling briefly.

Violet stopped by the barn to check on the horses before returning to the house. Inside she was startled
to find Richard awake and sitting up. Her mother was also stirring.

“Well, now that everyone’s awake, we can have breakfast,” Violet said cheerfully.

Richard watched closely as Violet made breakfast. He was feeling better, stronger. He vividly remembered resting beside her, shivering and clinging to her warmth. He was beginning to think that she might be the greatest mystery he had ever encountered.

The priest arrived shortly after they had finished eating. “I’m relieved to see you looking so well,” he told Richard.

“So am I,” Richard answered.

The priest examined him closely, then sat back with a satisfied look. “I’d say you should be fit to travel the day after tomorrow. By then you should have regained your strength sufficiently.”

Paul then turned his attention to Sarah, and Violet approached Richard.

“Are you feeling better, then?” Violet asked.

“Yes. In fact I could use a bit of fresh air. Would you care to accompany me outside?”

“Yes, Highness.”

His legs were stiff, but Richard suspected they would be fine once he was able to stretch them a bit. Outside the house he lifted his face to the warmth of the sun and breathed in deeply of the fresh air. It seemed as though he could actually feel his strength returning to him.

He turned toward the barn, wanting to see for
himself that Baron was all right. Violet walked beside him with a sure step. He glanced at her, admiring the way that she carried herself. There was no self-conscious preening on her part, only the strong, steady stride of someone who had spent her life working outdoors instead of confined to a room doing stitchery. It was refreshing, and so different from anything he had ever known as to be novel.

Baron greeted Richard enthusiastically, and Richard stroked his nose, relieved to see his companion uninjured. “That was a nasty spill we took, boy. I’m just glad you seem to be in better shape than me.”

To Violet he said, “Thank you for looking after him.”

“It was no hardship,” she answered. “He’s a good horse, and he’ll stand still for anything if there is the promise of an apple.”

Richard laughed appreciatively. “Hear that, Baron? She understands you better than most.”

Violet flushed at that, and the pink in her tan cheeks made her look all the lovelier.

Violet spent the rest of the day showing Richard around the farm. He had to stop and rest often, but each time he would get up with a dogged determination. Richard slept soundly that night, but Violet tossed and turned on her makeshift mattress, trying not to count the number of times her mother coughed.

With the new dawn Richard was up as early as she was, eager to walk more. They walked slowly out to
where he had had his accident and then rested themselves in the shade of a tree growing by the stream.

“Tell me about your travels,” she urged, curious to hear of the world beyond her own.

“There was one castle that was perched high on the top of a mountain. It took three days to climb up to it, and when we arrived, it was like a snowy wonderland. The flowers were blooming despite the snow, and the blossoms were of purple and blue and yellow.”

“And was there a princess there?” she asked.

He laughed. “Yes. She was a very delicate creature, no taller than this,” Richard said, standing and indicating a line just below his chest.

Violet stood up and found that she was a good deal taller, for the top of her head reached his chin.

“I thought that a good, stiff wind would carry her away,” he said, laughing.

Violet laughed too, at the thought of it. “Surely she was too delicate!” she exclaimed, trying to picture the girl in her head.

“Wait, there was another, in a castle deep in a valley surrounded by rivers. She was so thin, it was as though you could see through her,” he said, eyes sparkling with laughter.

“What happened?” Violet asked excitedly, sensing there was more to the story.

“We went for a walk in the gardens, and while we were talking, a rose petal fell and bruised her foot so terribly that the poor thing couldn’t walk for three days.”

“A rose petal?” Violet asked, bewildered. “Are you making fun?”

“No, I wish I was. Poor dear. I don’t know how she’ll ever survive the carriage ride here.”

Violet started laughing.

“And what has amused you so?” Richard asked.

“How would a woman like that ever manage to bear you children? She would probably faint at the very thought. If you so much as kissed her, you would probably knock loose all her teeth.” Violet continued laughing so hard that she began to cry. A strange look passed over Richard’s face, and she couldn’t tell if he was going to rebuke her or begin laughing as well.

“I can assure you I am not so rough and crude a kisser,” he said at last.

“I did not mean to imply you were,” she said, trying to wipe the tears from her face. “I only meant that the princess is so frail it’s a wonder her own clothes don’t crush her with their weight; an embrace might crack her bones. And if she was ever kissed by a farm boy, the force would probably kill her.”

“So, farm boys are forceful kissers,” the prince said, musingly.

“Aye. They wouldn’t know any other way.”

“And what of farm girls?”

“They wouldn’t know any other way, either,” Violet said, smiling and blushing all at once.

Richard moved like lightning, his left arm wrapping around Violet’s waist and his right hand cupping the back of her head. His face moved in toward
hers, and Violet cried out in alarm. She was afraid, for she could feel the power of him, the roughness. But at the last instant, when Richard’s lips met hers, it was whisper soft. Not hard and fierce as she had imagined. Though his lips were barely touching hers, Violet could feel the strength of him wrapped around her. He swept her backward, supporting her body with his arm and her head with his hand, and still his kiss was gentle like a spring breeze and playful as a kitten. It overwhelmed her. She succumbed to it completely, letting herself go limp in his arms. Richard’s lips were soft, teasing, with a promise of something more to come. And then, slowly, he lifted her up, set her back upon her feet, and pulled away.

“What was that for?” she asked, her voice and body shaking from the onslaught.

“That is so that you shall know the difference,” Richard said, his breathing ragged.

“But what good does that do me?” Violet burst out, bewildered. “I’m as likely to teach a pig to dance as teach a boy from the village to kiss like that.”

“Then take it as a token, a thank-you for all that you have done for me.”

“I would have done it for a starving beggar, let alone the man whose family owns the land my family works,” she said.

Something dark and inscrutable shadowed his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the other night you would have been happier tending to a beggar.”

With that, Violet slapped him, hard and fast across the face. She gasped, realizing what she had done. Prince Richard bent down to gaze at her fiercely, and Violet’s heart thudded, as she expected him to denounce her for her crime.

It was the slap Richard had expected from her days before, and even as it stung his cheek, he realized that he deserved it. Something about her brought out the devil in him. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew that before he left her and the farm the following morning there was something he needed to hear from her.

“That first day, when I woke up, before I asked you your name, you asked, ‘Is it you?’ What did you mean by that?”

Violet blushed fiercely and turned her face away from him, looking to the grass at their feet. “Nothing,” she answered shortly. “You must have been delirious.”

“No, I didn’t yet have the fever, and I remember clearly my conversation with you and your father. I heard what you asked. What did it mean?” he pressed.

Violet turned and started walking toward the house. “I’m hungry. We should go eat lunch.”

Richard caught her by the arm and spun her around to face him, his curiosity raging out of control. “Did you recognize me? Had we met? Were you asking if I was the prince?”

“Yes, that was it,” she stammered, though she refused to meet his eyes.

“You are lying to me,” he said, surprised that she
would be so daring and even more surprised that it mattered to him. Richard took a deep breath and then, using the very voice he used to command lesser nobles to do his bidding, he ordered, “Tell me what you truly meant.”

The wind picked up around them and blew Violet’s hair back from her face so that it stood out nearly straight. Richard felt the wind’s cold fingers plucking at him, but he stood rooted to the ground, waiting for her answer.

Finally, she looked up at him, and her great violet eyes met his. “It’s just a game I’ve played for a couple of years now. Whenever my eyes meet those of a man my age, I wonder if he’s going to be the one I’ll marry. It was just habit. I wondered the same about you, before I knew who you were. When you were just a nameless stranger lying in my bed. I never meant to say anything out loud.”

Richard’s heart began to pound, hard and savage. He leaned closer to stare more deeply into her eyes. His mouth had gone dry. All this time he had been searching the world over for his bride, and this girl had been searching this village for her groom. It seemed impossible that they should have met, but they had. Was it fate?

When he spoke, it was no more than a whisper. “Is it me?” Richard asked. Their faces were only inches apart, and the question shimmered in the air between them. He forgot to breathe, waiting for what she might
say. But Violet just stared up at him with eyes that could consume a man’s soul.

Her lips parted, and she seemed about to speak. A sudden shout caused them both to jump. Violet stepped away from him.

Her father stood waving his hat in the doorway of the house.

Richard thought he saw a tear trickle down her cheek, but he realized it was a raindrop when one hit his brow.

“Father Paul must be here,” Violet said, her voice strained. Then she picked up her skirts and ran toward the house.

He followed, watching the sway of her golden hair. What had she been about to say? Somehow Richard had the feeling that he would never know.

Suddenly Violet stopped. He could tell she was staring off in the distance toward the castle. He followed the line of her vision and saw the storm clouds rapidly spreading from that direction. Another drop of rain fell, heavier than the first, followed by another and then another.

The storm came, sudden and unexpected. Violet and Richard barely made it inside before the lightning started. Violet stood at the window, shivering as she stared out into the darkening afternoon.

The priest was tending to her mother, and Sarah seemed worse than the day before. While Father Paul
was talking with William, Richard came and stood beside Violet, staring out at the rain.

“Do you care for me?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Would it matter?” Violet asked.

He hesitated, as if looking for the right words.

She plunged in, fear and bitterness tugging at her hushed voice. “No, it wouldn’t,” she answered for him. “It’s not about you or me; it’s about kingdoms and treaties and wars and alliances. You said so yourself.”

Richard seemed to have no answer, for he turned away, retreating to the center of the room. Violet could hear her father, the priest, and Richard talking together in low tones, but she continued to stare out the window.

When Violet went to bed that night, she couldn’t sleep for many hours. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly that she couldn’t make sense of it. She thought of the conversation with Richard, about the princesses he had met, and she felt a sharp pang as she wondered which would be his wife. She thought about the kiss, and her lips burned with the memory of it. There was so much to take in. And then there was the storm, so soon on the heels of the first. Violet drifted off to sleep, fear curling around her heart. In the morning, when she awoke, everything had changed.