Joust of Hearts by Genella deGrey

other, and can see that you want me as well.”
    Melisande closed her eyes for a moment, his warm words heating her being. “Very well.” The response seemed to escape her lips in quiet surrender without her even trying.
    Devin considered her for a short moment then a look of pleased surprise appeared upon his face. “How long?”
    “Just wait for me,” she answered, her gaze once again lowering to the stone floor.
    “Please, make haste, for I cannot bear much more of this torture.” He took Melisande’s hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.
    They reached their doors, and from across the corridor, as if she were making a pronouncement, Melisande said, “Gramercy, Devin.”
    Devin shook his head, smiled and returned in his rich, deep voice, “Goodnight then, Lady Melisande.”
     
    At the bottom of the stairs in the great hall, Helena and Fitzherbert covered their laughter with their fingertips.
    “You, wife, are the devil’s own helper.”
    “Nay not, my lord. Oft new love must needs be encouraged—as a mother sparrow nudges her chick from the nest.”
    He took her hand, pulled her over onto his lap and buried his face in her neck. “Come, wench,” he murmured. “Let us retire from this room, and find a quiet spot to remember what it was like when we were young lovers.”
    “Oh, Fitzherbert!” Helena giggled.
     
    * * * *
     
    Melisande ordered a basin of scented water to her room, and had Maggie coil and secure a braid at the top of her head. When the wash water arrived, she dismissed the girls and used a good portion of the perfumed French soap, a luxury item she’d like to have a wagonload of.
    Satisfied, she made good use of the drying cloth, then slipped her arms through a thin white robe, deliberately excluding her chemise. A shiver of delight trickled up her spine at the thought of her scandalous behavior. And yet, as she snuffed out her candle and lay down upon the bed, her stomach flip-flopped with embarrassment. Pushing her whirling thoughts aside, she closed her eyes and waited for the household to settle in for the night.
     
    * * * *
     
    Melisande gasped and sat up. How long had she been asleep? Her tardiness must be a sign from above . Mayhaps I should not go. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoping to clear her thoughts, then after a moment, stepped barefoot onto the rush-covered floor and remembered her state of undress. Wrapping the flimsy fabric tighter around her body, she bound it with a long white hair ribbon about her waist so that it held fast.
    After deciding to not wear her soft leather slippers in case they made too much noise, she crossed the floor of her room. She paused as she wondered at how her thoughts flitted about, as if her mind was attempting to discredit the task before her.
    The indecisiveness she was experiencing was enough to make a person run mad. Her mind would say one thing and her heart would echo contradictorily. In fact, ever since she’d met Devin it had been this way. It was as if Melisande was caught between two worlds and they were both trying to tell her what to do. Was she the only person in all of England who battled with their own wits?
    Melisande paused just inside her door, about to change her mind yet again, when she remembered something. She had given her word to Devin. Melisande placed her knuckles on her forehead and paced toward her bed and back again. What to do! What to do!
    What if she just looked in on him, and if he were asleep, she could unkiss the agreement and say that she too had fallen asleep?
    That was it. Her decision was now set in stone.
    Melisande pulled on the heavy oak door and peered out into the passage.
    Empty.
    Taking little notice of the cold flagstone against the bottom of her feet, she felt her breathing draw in then rush back out of her lungs so loudly that she was sure it echoed down the corridor. With every step she took, she pictured how he looked at her, how his hands felt