PRECIOUS MOMENT
The sea was gray and misty, the waves rolling in a muted, metallic light. Alina gasped as they rose and the light poured down on them, turning them from pewter to brilliance.
She opened her eyes.
Sunshine.
Her vision had shown her Duncan in the sunlight, happy and successful. Perhaps the sunlight of the dream was him, smiling and happy. As she sat up, wincing at the ache in her temples, rubbing sleep from weary eyelids, she felt growing conviction.
Duncan has returned.
She could not have said why or how, but she had a strong sensation he was here, in the castle. And not too far away, either. Standing, she pushed her feet into silk slippers and walked lightly towards the door. She could hear her maidservant breathing regularly, asleep, behind the screen that divided her sleeping place from Alina's own. She felt the door handle, cool under her hand. She turned it and stepped out into the hallway.
The moonlight cast a patch of molten silvery light on the floor before the door. Alina looked at it, eyes adjusting to the brighter glow beyond the door, and then turned to her right.
She breathed in sharply, in sudden fright. There was someone there! A man. Then her eyesight sharpened and she stared.
The light washed over his hair, casting the flaxen locks in pale silver. His eyes were closed, the light lining the proud outline of his well-chiseled nose. His high brow was relaxed, the one or two lines smoothed out in sleep. His hands – big and strongly muscled – were open, the fingers curling slightly as he slept.
Alina dropped to one knee beside him. He was here. He was returned safely. She drank in the sight of him, her cheeks stretched with smiling.
“Duncan.”
She had not meant to speak, but the name escaped her lips, soft as a breeze.
As she watched, he stirred. His eyes opened, and then closed. He took a shuddering breath. Then another. His eyes opened.
They looked straight into her own.
His eyes tensed, narrowing, clearly frightened and confused then, as sense began to register, he relaxed. He stared into her eyes, his own tawny ones slightly bloodshot, but glowing with a warmth she had never seen in anyone, man or woman, before.
“Alina,” he breathed.
He reached his hand forward. She took his fingers in her own. They were cool and firm, hardened with years of sword-hefting. She clasped them. They were the dearest fingers on earth.
“Duncan.”
He smiled at her. “You're awake.”
She chuckled softly. “Well, yes. Or we are both dreaming. But your hand in mine feels real.” She whispered it, their voices soft in undisturbed darkness, close and velvety, holding them close.
Duncan smiled at her, a smile of particular sweetness. He squeezed her hand, tensing his fingers in her own. “If I am dreaming, may I stay forever in this realm,” he whispered. “Just you and I. And moonlight.”
Alina smiled at him, and then shivered. It was not just with cold. “You are awake,” she reminded him. “Do not speak of eternal sleep.” She smiled, taking the sting from her words. “At least not unless I sleep as well.”
The words were light, teasing. Yet, the mention of sleeping alongside each other, even slightly referred to as a metaphor for death, made her cheeks flush. She heard him swallow and knew his thoughts were similar. She blushed and looked away.
“I think you should rest,” she said briskly. She still whispered, but there was an edge to her voice. He should be somewhere warm! What was he doing here, alone and cold? Outside her bedchamber? She shivered at the thought. If he was discovered here, they would both be disgraced.
“I am resting,” Duncan said, giving her a wry grin. “I was asleep, if you recall.”
Alina breathed out wearily, shaking her head at his stubbornness. “Yes, you were. But sleeping in a drafty hallway is likely to make you sicker than if you stood awake in the cold. Come. The solar is still warm.” Taking his hand, leading him firmly down the stairs again, they crossed the hallway into the solar.
It was still warm. The fire in the great fireplace had only just burned down. Here, the wide windows let in bright starlight, so that the edges of the furniture were frosty silver and the flagstones glowed like molten steel. She sat down on a chair by the fire, leading him to the settee opposite her.
“It is warmer here,” Duncan nodded. He spoke more loudly – there were no servants to overhear them, and the nearest family member, Chrissie, slept in a room near to Alina's, one floor higher. They were alone.
“Yes, indeed,” Alina said dryly. “The coals are still glowing.” She gestured to the fireplace beside them where a ruddy light leaked forth.
She was feeling more awake now, and with the wakefulness came a restless questing. Her mind was studying him, considering the state of his health. He needed warmth. He needed rest. He needed a long soak in a bath. “Why are you not in the west wing, in the guest chambers?” she said suddenly.
Her black eyes met his, lids raised in question. He looked into her eyes, and gave an uncertain smile.
“You are more frightening than the villager's physician,” he said. The churchman who oversaw the religious life of Lochlann village also worked as the apothecary and doctored their ills. That was, until most people started turning to Alina, whose skills were growing daily.
Alina chuckled. “I will assume that is meant to be complimentary,” she said dryly.
“It was, it was!” he said, raising hands in surrender. They both laughed.
“I am so glad to see you,” Alina said. There seemed no words to describe her racing heart, the joy that suffused her chest. All words seemed so insufficient, and so she did not try, but said the least of what was possible.
“As I am to see you,” Duncan breathed.
He was not, after all, so far away. When his hand reached for hers, she let him. When he drew her towards him, she went with the grip on her hand.
Their lips met. He kissed her.
Alina closed her eyes as she felt his mouth move over hers, the kiss slow this time, as if his lips were trying to remember hers, moving slowly, nibbling, over each bump and swell, his tongue flickering across the curve of them.
Alina sighed and parted them, letting his tongue find entry. She felt the jolt of surprise shudder through her as his tongue pushed between, the tingling sensations spreading from her lips through her body. She pressed her body to his, letting the fire that seared from her lips to her belly and back again fill her every part.
They sat like that for what seemed like half an age, his lips on hers, her arms wrapped around him, his hands stroking her back. There was no sound in the room save the ones they made, which were small and gentle ones – the gasp of a breath, the sound of mouth on mouth.
Alina shivered. She wore only her night robe and shift, and she was glad she had thought to pull the velvet garment about her before she left. As it was, the two layers of cloth were the least there had ever been between them. He wore only jerkin and trews, his cloak concealing nothing. She could feel his heart, steady and slow, and she thought she might actually die, caught between intense contentment and a steady longing, demanding more.
More closeness. More contact. More time.
She sighed. Moved back. He gasped, lips still parted from a kiss. She rested her hands on her knees, noting, with some shock, that they were shaking. She could not afford to let her own longing overwhelm her.
“You will stay long here?” Alina asked. She cleared her throat, noticing how tight it sounded.
“Yes,” Duncan said quietly. Then he bit his lip, shaking his head, eyes closing. “No. I mean...I don't know, sweetling.”
Alina sighed, the term of endearment shuddering through her already aching soul like thrown darts. She closed her own eyes briefly, and then opened them. “You do not know where to go?” she asked carefully.
“Yes.” Duncan nodded emphatically. “You helped me with...the first question,” he said carefully.
“The second?” Alina asked slowly. “The pearl.”
“Yes.” He nodded. He looked utterly wretched. “I have no idea...”
“I think I have some sense of something that could help us,” Alina said carefully. Duncan stared at her. His brown eyes stretched with hopefulness.
“You do? Tell me!”
Alina bit her lip. His eagerness showed he was as ready for wedding as she was. She could not help smiling at the thought of that. “I think I do,” she said carefully. “I am not certain.”
“Tell me?”
Alina told him. About the pearl being someone precious to her uncle. About the Duncraigh alliance. About her uncle's disappointment and sadness, recalled by Amabel when they talked last.
“So you think...” Duncan began, breathy, as she finished.
“I think Uncle Brien wants you to find a woman he loved.”
Duncan stared at her. “Truly?” Whether it amazed him to learn the man was sentient, or whether he was amazed by the enigma and its solution, Alina did not know. She could not help a chuckle, he looked so surprised.
“Yes,” she said, laughing. “And don't tell me you didn't know he loved. I am sure all people do. Though, I must admit, I wonder sometimes in that man's case.”
They both laughed.
Sitting there, in the dusky solar, Alina felt more comfortable than she had ever felt. Duncan was a companion so easy and comforting, so suited to her, that she felt like they had always sat thus, with the scent of dust and pinewood around them, the evening light filtering through the arches and splashing on the floor before them both.
Alina cleared her throat, feeling an ache in her heart. “We should retire now,” she said gently. Her voice was raw and she did not change that. She longed to stay here with him. Longed to do what she was sure they both wanted. However, she could not – it was unthinkable.
Biting her lip as he moved in the chair opposite, she sighed.
“I agree,” he said. He sounded as reluctant as she felt. He sat with hands clasped in front, head down.
“Well, then,” Alina said softly.
“Well,” he agreed. He looked up then, whiskey-dark eyes meeting hers. He smiled at her. “It's hard to leave here.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
He leaned forward. Took her hand in his. Held it firmly.
“I'll not be gone long,” he said softly. “Not this time. This does not seem as dangerous as the last task did. No swords, no theft.” he chuckled softly.
Alina bit her lip. It was not safe – that much was certain. The Duncraigh's were certainly enemies of Lochlann. He would have to be sure none knew he came from the castle, in order to enter with any surety. Nevertheless, she had to agree with his words.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I suppose.”
“I should go, lass,” he said. “I need to sleep.”
“Yes.”
For a long while, neither of them moved. They sat together as if imprinting the memory of their presence on the mind, drinking in each gesture, each scent, sound, and sight so that, when they parted, they would be sustained. Until they saw each other once again.
Alina turned away sharply. Stood.
“Goodnight, my dearest,” she whispered. Her throat ached with silenced crying.
“Goodnight, my sweetest.”
Duncan whispered it, his voice almost gone. Alina squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears sting at her eyelids.
“Goodnight,” she said again. She took his hand, squeezing it fiercely. She clutched it to her heart. He had stood, and he bent down, caressing her hair.
Alina turned away sharply and hurried then, heading for the door. She went through it quickly and then walked lightly down the hallway, heading for the stairs.
She did not stop until she reached her own bedchamber. She collapsed in a heap, tears coursing down her face as she lay on the bed, face buried in the coverlet to stifle the sound of crying.
She lay there until she thought she was empty of tears, then, quietly, she slipped off her shoes and robe and slid under the covers.
It was important to sleep. Tomorrow she would have to be awake. To say farewell. Though he had not said it in as many words, Alina sensed from his tension and need to complete the venture that he would be leaving tomorrow.
She would be there to wish him well. Closing her eyes, feeling her body slowly warm again beneath the covers, the fire still casting some little warmth from the glowing coals beside the bed, she curled up and tried, successfully, to rest and sleep, gathering strength for the coming morning.