“What do you mean?”
“You know how I feel about you—don’t you?” she asked quietly, so quietly that she was afraid he could hear how loud her heart was pounding in her chest.
Gill looked around nervously, even if there was no one in the corridor. “What are you saying?” He looked so pale and troubled that she thought she would lose the nerve to tell him how she truly felt. But she had no time. They were taking him away soon. If she did not speak now, she might never have the chance to tell him…and she had to tell him, it was killing her. She had to tell him—before it was too late.
She looked into his eyes and took his hands—they were so large and rough compared to her small ones. “I can’t imagine life without you.”
Gill looked askance. She felt her heart drop into her stomach. “Don’t talk like that, Marie. It’s not safe,” he said. “Whatever you feel about me—it’s just friendship, nothing more.”
She blinked her eyes. “I knew you would say that. I know you didn’t feel the same way…you can’t even dance with me without cringing, but I had to say it, I wanted you to know before…before. It’s all right. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, trying not to sob. She wiped her eyes angrily. Of course he did not feel the same way about her. Who could love her? She was so plain and dull and sickly, and he was so wonderful, and there were many girls—so many prettier, more deserving girls—that he could want. That he did want, she was sure.
“Wait!” he said, holding her hands tightly. “Why are you crying?”
“It’s nothing—”
“You cannot think—you cannot mean—is it because you think I don’t feel the same way? Is that it?”
She nodded, unable to look at him. Her heart was so open and vulnerable at that moment, and she wanted to take it back so badly, wanted to wrap it up and put it back in the locked trunk where it belonged. She should have never said anything to him; it was stupid of her to think, to hope, that he would feel for her what she felt for him. “You are right—we are only friends…of course…of course you don’t feel the same.…”
Still holding her hands in his, he pressed his head against hers, forced her to look him in the eye. “Stop telling me what I feel. Stop it. You have no idea what I feel. All I do is feel. I feel so much for you, it’s destroying me. It’s why I had to leave, I had to go away and I couldn’t answer your letters,” he said fiercely. He was angry now, his eyes wild, and she was a little frightened of him. But all the same, she felt a sudden, sharp happiness rise in her heart. “You have everything wrong. I don’t think of you as a friend,” he said.
“You don’t?”
“No—Marie—I don’t think of you as a friend at all—” And his face was so intense, almost red, and he was staring at her so intently, and his face was so close to hers, and she closed her eyes, and then—and then he kissed her. And he kissed her again, and it was sweeter than she could have hoped, could have dreamed—and he was kissing her, and it was like her dreams were coming true all in one moment. And she kissed him back and forgot to worry, forgot who or where she was, and it only mattered that he had his lips on hers.
“Gill,” she breathed, and he began to kiss her neck and press her against his body.
“Marie, my Marie,” he said, his voice strangled, wretched. “How could you believe that I didn’t feel the same for you, when all I do is think of you? It’s why I had to get away—because being with you, but not being able to be with you…I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Oh, Gill…” she breathed, and her voice was a woman’s voice, full of promise and seduction.
“But it doesn’t matter what we feel for each other. We can’t do this. I’m a soldier, your servant…and you are the princess.”
“But I don’t want to be.” She held tightly to him. Her hands were around his neck and his back, his entwined in her hair, the two of them so close to each other she could feel his heart beating in time with hers.
“Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.
You can’t. You’re making this harder than it has to be,” he said, and his voice was full of raw despair. “It was wrong of me to kiss you.”
“Listen to me,” she said.
He shook his head. “No. I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you throw your future away.”
“Then you will let me marry him, then? And live a life where I will never know love?” she said bitterly.
He crumbled at that. “Marie,” he said. “Hush.” His hand was on her lips, and princess or no, he kissed her again, and she felt alight with love, and she knew that there was no turning back now.
He kissed and kissed her, and he pushed the door open so that they tumbled into the room, alone, and he kicked the door closed, and they fell on the floor, and still they kissed as if they could not stop. She smiled, feeling warm and beautiful and protected in his strong arms. “You were right and I was wrong.”
“I never knew you felt the same,” he said as he leaned over her, his face full of love.
She arched an eyebrow, feeling coquettish all of a sudden. “Truly?”
He blushed and kissed her softly again. “I hoped. I hoped with all of my heart. But I did not want to take advantage of my position.”
“What position?”
“I saved your life; I am with you every day, you are my dearest friend. Maybe you only think you love me because you are grateful to me,” he admitted.