The Maid of the White Hands by Rosalind Miles

Author:Rosalind Miles [Miles, Rosalind]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780307422149
Google: NIE5o41CqNwC
Amazon: B000XUAEIK
Goodreads: 8495856
Publisher: Crown
Published: 2003-08-19T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 30

Kill! Kill!

A red mist drowned Tristan’s sight. All he could see were two eyes like lakes of darkness and an open, quivering mouth. The silver point of his sword drove forward without his command and drew blood, dancing in the white hollow of a woman’s throat.

A shuddering moan reached him from far away. “Don’t kill me! Don’t—”

It was the maid Falsamilla, on her knees before him, weeping at his feet. He could see half a dozen tiny sword-cuts in her neck. Had he done that? Gods above, to treat a woman so . . .

“Let me be your lady,” she implored through swollen lips. “Let me only follow you . . .”

Drops of blood were pulsing from her throat. He could not look at her. I have hurt her like this, and still she begs me to love her, and grovels like a dog? “No.”

“On my knees, sir—”

He could not bear it. “Lady, it cannot be.”

She looked at him, speechless, desolate. Averting his gaze, he plowed on. “The Great Ones decide who will go hand in hand through all the worlds. For us, it was not written in the stars. You gave me my freedom, and I shall honor you all my life. But from this moment, our paths lie apart.”

Falsamilla bowed her head. “Go, then,” she muttered. “But at least give me something to remember you by.”

He started and backed away. “What can I give you?”

Her eyes were like desert moons. “A kiss.”

“A kiss from me?” he gasped. “Why?”

Now it was her turn to look away. “No man ever kissed me in my life,” she said stonily. “I want to know what a kiss is before I die.”

Alas, poor lady . . .

Pity flooded him. She saved my life and all she asks is this? Aching with sorrow, he looked at her lovely face, her soft body ripe for awakening. and felt an angry shame on behalf of his sex. Where is the man who will warm this woman through? Where is the knight that she can call her own?

She was trembling like a child after a beating, staring at the floor. Without thinking, he took her in his arms, cradling her in his cloak. With a shock, he felt her heart thudding against his breast. Lowering his head, he gave her a gentle kiss. But he was not surprised when her lips parted and her red mouth fastened desperately on his. She clung to him so greedily that for a moment panic touched him with one fearful thought, she will suck out my soul! But the next second, he tasted the salt of her tears and knew that this was no enchantment, just a woman’s breaking heart.

They kissed, and kissed again. At last he broke away.

Oh, Isolde, I have betrayed our love . . .

“I must go,” he said, lost in despair. She nodded, staring at him with huge and empty eyes, and he felt her misery in his own soul. “What will you do?” he asked awkwardly.

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