Wager Me A Kiss

Hi! Many thanks to Snidne, Dee Nekura, Story Junkie, and Moonstar for their lovely reviews! We authors treasure every bit of feedback we get. And thanks to everyone else who decided to take a peek at this story. I hope you weren\'t disappointed. And now, the saga continues...

Wager Me A Kiss


Chapter Two: Rosemary


“Of course, I was just a boy at the time,” Sebastian continued, pausing only long enough to take another bite of custard. Rosemary knew that her hasty efforts couldn’t possibly match the delicacies he was accustomed to. But all through dinner, he’d eaten with obvious enthusiasm, and his enjoyment of her food filled her with a quiet pride.

“I knew my father would punish me if he caught me at another prank. But I couldn’t resist. So there I was, crouching on the ledge, hiding behind a statue of Saint Cadmus. And the priest was standing right under me. I waited until he’d gotten pretty far into the sermon. Then I dropped the live mouse into his robes.” Sebastian grinned. “You should have seen him flail around. The congregation probably thought he was having some sort of religious ecstasy.”

Rosemary laughed, and glanced over at Julen, eager to share her enjoyment of Sebastian’s tale. To her surprise, Julen’s lips carried only the faintest hint of a smile. He stared down at his custard as if somewhat puzzled to find it still uneaten. “Julen?” she prodded, concerned about offending Sebastian. “Are you dreaming again?”

“No, not at all,” Julen assured. Glancing up, he allowed his smile to blossom. “Sebastian paints a very amusing image. I was just...wondering.”

“Wondering? About what?”

“I was wondering what happened to the mouse.”

“The mouse?” Sebastian looked confused. “It ran off, I suppose. Or got stepped on. Does it matter?”

“To the mouse, I imagine it matters a great deal.”

Rosemary’s breath caught in her throat. She admired her husband for not being intimidated by Sebastian, but he seemed oblivious to the danger such remarks might put him in. Fortunately, Sebastian appeared to view Julen as an interesting oddity, rather than an uppity peasant. Chuckling, he shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it does matter to the mouse. But it matters not at all to the prince of Eldoris.”

Julen didn’t answer. And, soon after that, he rose from the table, explaining that the evening hymn needed to be sung. As Rosemary watched him leave, a shiver rippled through her body. Although whether it was a shiver of anticipation, or of dread, she couldn’t say.

Left alone with Sebastian, Rosemary felt a rush of nervous energy. Suddenly eager to be busy, she unhooked the pot of water she’d been heating over the fire, and poured it into the washtub. Then she began to collect the dirty dishes. Her work gave her an excuse to avoid looking at Sebastian. But every once in awhile, she’d sneak a glance in his direction, and find him watching her with dark eyes. His hands seemed to be toying with something she couldn’t see, other than the occasional flash of silver.

Finally, Sebastian spoke. “I heard your husband sing today. Even in Theodosia, I doubt there’s a voice to match his.”

“Julen’s always had a talent for music.” Rosemary smiled as she lowered a cup into the washtub’s warm water. “They say that when he was born, angels kissed his tongue, so that he could be worthy of praising them.”

“I see. And are angels the only things eager to kiss him?”

It took Rosemary a moment to realize what Sebastian meant. “Well, the village girls like his voice. But he never seems to notice them. To tell the truth, I never believed that he noticed me. Until...”

“Until?”

Rosemary hesitated, wondering if Julen would approve of her sharing such an intimate bit of history. But there was something about Sebastian which compelled her to speak. “When I was fourteen, I caught the wasting sickness. Everyone was scared to come near me. My parents prayed for a miracle, and left me in the church.”

“Where you got to know Julen?”

“Not really. I was so weak that I slept most of the time. And when I wasn’t asleep, I was feverish. I don’t remember anything about being there. After awhile, the angels granted my parents their miracle, and I recovered.”

Sebastian looked skeptical. “No one recovers from the wasting sickness.”

“I did. I went on with my life. Julen and I had never talked much before that, and we didn’t talk much for a couple of years afterward. Just greetings on the street or small talk when we met in church. But when he asked me to marry him, I said ‘yes’ right away. Somehow...somehow I knew that he truly loved me.”

Rosemary lowered her eyes, staring down into the dirty dishwater. Never, not once in their two years of marriage, had Julen given her any reason to doubt his feelings. He adored her. Every gentle touch confirmed it. So why did her heart suffer this terrible restlessness? Why did she want such wicked things?

She hadn’t heard Sebastian get up. But suddenly, she felt his fingers brush against her cheek as he caught a strand of hair and pushed it back behind her ear. To Rosemary, it seemed that he’d peeled back some tiny piece of the mask she wore. “He thinks you’re another one of his angels,” Sebastian murmured. “But you’re not entirely angelic, are you, Rose?”

The truth of that stunned Rosemary. Flustered, unable to touch the center of Sebastian’s question, she fluttered around its edges like a startled moth. “It’s not ‘Rose’. It’s ‘Mary’. My husband calls me ‘Mary’.”

“Ah. But he doesn’t see your thorns like I do.” Sebastian’s fingers trailed across her exposed throat, making Rosemary gasp. “And, in any case, I am not your husband.”

“No,” Rosemary agreed, forcing herself to pull away from his touch. “You’re not my husband. We should both remember that.”

But instead of backing off, Sebastian seized her wrists, and spun her around to face him. “What is it, Rose? Has he never been rough with you? Has he never thrown you down on the bed and taken what he wanted? Has he never called you filthy, nasty things?”

“Let me go!” Rosemary hissed. But she didn’t want Sebastian to let her go. She wanted him to shove her to her knees. She wanted him to pull her hair, and slap her, and make her pleasure him in all the ways Julen would never allow. Trembling, she stared at Sebastian with wide eyes.

Sebastian’s grip on her wrists tightened to the point of pain. Relentlessly, he pulled her closer, until his breath beat against her skin, hot and insistent. “Earlier this evening,” he rasped, “I tried to make a little bet with your husband. I asked him to wager me a kiss from your lips. But I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not fair to make a man gamble what he’s already lost.” Roughly, Sebastian yanked Rosemary across the final inches that still separated their bodies. Her breasts slapped against his chest, making her nipples sting as they hit the hard muscle concealed beneath his silk shirt, and Rosemary started to cry out. But before the sound could leave her lips, Sebastian kissed her. A harsh, hard kiss, like none Julen had ever given. And oh, how it thrilled her. Every nerve in her body seemed to pull tight with anticipation. But all her excitement couldn’t conquer the guilt she felt at betraying her husband.

“Don’t!” Rosemary shoved Sebastian backward. Her eyes watered, and she shook her head, as if to clear it. “Julen is a good man. And I love him.”

Sebastian’s mouth twisted into a sneer. However, he released her. “Of course you do. Kittens and wildflowers, what’s not to love? But he’ll never make you scream the way you want to scream.”

Flushed, Rosemary turned back to the washtub, and plunged her hands into the warm water. She could sense Sebastian watching her, but she didn’t dare look at him. Instead, she scrubbed a pot, trying to calm her thudding heart. Sebastian was right. Julen would never quench the fire that burned inside her. But what did that matter? Julen didn’t drink to excess, didn’t even glance at other women. He was wise, and kind, and raised her spirits just by being there. What did it matter that he couldn’t satisfy desires that she shouldn’t even have?

When she’d finished washing every last dish, Rosemary finally felt strong enough to face Sebastian. “My Lord,” she offered, deliberately keeping her voice cold. “Shall we retire to the parlor until my husband returns?”

“As you wish.”

Entering the parlor, Rosemary lit the candles, although their light did little to dispel the darkness which clouded her thoughts. Then, she sat. She and Sebastian seemed locked into a silence that neither of them were able – or willing – to break. Instead of speaking, they stared past each other, watching the flickering shadows that danced on the cottage walls like lurid spirits. And as the minutes passed, Rosemary didn’t wonder why it had taken a stranger to truly see her. She just wondered why he’d even bothered to speak of it. She wondered why the passions of a village girl mattered any more to him than the fate of a mouse.

When Rosemary heard the door open, signaling Julen’s return, she nearly jumped up and raced to greet him. But a sense of decorum kept her seated until Julen entered the parlor. Amazingly, he seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, and the lingering ripples of everything that had happened in his house while he was away. “It’s late,” he informed. “Benedetto has already arranged places for your hunting party to sleep. Will you spend the night with us? Mary and I can put some blankets on the floor down here, while you take our bed upstairs.”

For a moment, Rosemary hoped that Sebastian might decline. But what else could he do? Sleep in the garden? It had already grown too dark for travel. So, of course, he accepted, leaving her with no choice but to escort him upstairs.

“In here, My Lord,” she murmured, pushing open the door. The bedroom was small, with a steeply arched roof that made it nearly as tall as it was wide. A feather mattress, supported on a simple wooden frame, took up much of the floor space – if Rosemary sat on it, she could stretch her hand out to touch the walls on two sides, and the room’s single window on the third side. Rosemary bit her lip as she remembered her wedding night, when Julen first brought her here. They’d stayed awake until dawn, lost in the endless mystery of discovering each other, while the pigeons that roosted in the eaves rustled their wings and cooed their sleepy complaints. To think of Sebastian lying naked in her marriage bed...it seemed almost unholy.

Sebastian, however, didn’t hesitate before he dropped onto the mattress. Doing her best to ignore him, Rosemary set down her candle, and crossed over to a wooden chest, from which she removed the spare bedding. Then, struggling under the awkward bulk of a blanket and several pillows, she turned to go. But as she attempted to leave, Sebastian raised his leg, blocking her path.

“My Lord?” she inquired.

“I’ve been thinking, Rose. There’s something I owe you.”

“I can’t imagine what that could possibly be.”

From the pouch at his side, Sebastian drew out a necklace. Silver metal, shaped into the form of a beautiful woman, dangled from its chain, and Rosemary could barely resist the urge to reach out and stroke the figure’s impossibly cool, smooth skin.

“This is the trinket that I offered to gamble if your husband would match my stakes. He refused. But still, I got my kiss. So you should have the necklace.”

Almost against her will, Rosemary started to set down the bedding. But before she could free her hands, a voice inside her whispered its warning -- if she took this thing, she would be bound to Sebastian as surely as the tiny silver woman hanging from the chain he held in such a causal grip. “No thank you, My Lord. You owe me no gifts.”

“Well then, will you try to win it? Will you risk what your husband would not?”

A bitter smile twisted Rosemary’s mouth. “What can I wager? As you said, you’ve already had my kiss.”

“And a sweet kiss it was. But I have other desires.” Lowering his leg, Sebastian lay back on the bed. Rosemary wondered if he was about to suggest something obscene. Part of her wanted him to. But she knew that if she sold herself for a piece of jewelry, no matter how pretty, she would be no better than the whores Julen always seemed so worried about. However, Sebastian’s next words caught her completely by surprise. “Wager me a kiss from your husband’s lips.”

Rosemary didn’t know whether to cry out in anger or laugh. “You--? You want me to make Julen kiss you?”

“That, I’m afraid, would be beyond even your considerable powers of persuasion. I want you to wager me the rights to the kiss. When, and how, I take it is my own affair.”

Rosemary’s eyes narrowed. “You want my permission to kiss him. But who gave you the permission to kiss me?”

“You did, Rose. You did.”

Hidden beneath their load, Rosemary’s fingers curled tight, digging into the bedding. She tried to think of Julen, patiently waiting downstairs. But her eyes refused to leave the necklace. Something about that woman, hanging from her upraised hands, surrounded by bleeding flowers, seemed to speak of everything she herself could never have. And Rosemary wanted it. If her fantasies would never be more real than that silver charm, she wanted it, to wear against her naked throat.

After all, she reasoned, what risk would she really be taking? Even if she lost the wager, there would be no cost. Tomorrow, Sebastian would leave, would ride away with his hunting party and forget all about them. He would never claim Julen’s kiss. But Rosemary still offered one last protest. “You hardly have time to teach me a card game.”

“That’s true,” Sebastian conceded, taking something else from his pouch. A bright gold disk. “Shall we risk it all on the flip of a coin?”

Unable to speak, Rosemary nodded. Sebastian’s thumb struck the coin, and it jumped upward, spinning like a flat sun. Then he snatched it out of the air, and slapped it down on the back of his hand. “Call it.”

As she struggled for words, Rosemary realized that she’d never seen a gold coin before. She didn’t know what pictures were pressed into either side. “I...”

Sebastian seemed to guess her difficulty. “A portrait of my father is on one side. And the Sacred Lily of Theodosia is on the other. So, which will it be?”

“The...the king,” Rosemary guessed.

Sebastian lifted his hand, revealing the image of a lily. “I’m afraid that you’ve lost this wager. Are you sure you won’t accept the necklace as a gift?”

Rosemary didn’t reply. She’d thought that losing would cost her nothing. Now, however, a terrible sense of dread chilled her bones. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her debt would be paid in ways that neither she, nor Julen, could possibly imagine. Without another word to Sebastian, Rosemary turned and ran downstairs.

She was sure that the moment Julen saw her face, he would guess everything. But he just smiled at her, took the bedding from her arms, and began to spread it on the floor.

“What an extraordinary man,” Julen mused. “Do you think all royalty is like that?”

Rosemary couldn’t believe that he wasn’t shouting at her, demanding to know what reason he’d ever given her to flirt with another man. His trusting acceptance made the lust she felt for Sebastian seem all the more loathsome. Desperate to be forgiven for all she’d done, to be reassured that his lips still belonged to her alone, she pulled Julen into an urgent kiss.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around her. Held her as close to his heart as a whispered prayer. But tonight, instead of being comforting, his touch inflamed all the emotions Sebastian had begun to kindle. Driven nearly out of her head, Rosemary yanked off Julen’s shirt. He looked so handsome, with the candle’s glow catching the drops of sweat that had begun to collect on his bare skin. Bits of flickering light rested in the curls of his brown hair like glowing embers. And she did love him. If only he would let her show him how much.

Sinking down onto the blanket, they made love. Surrendered themselves to the moist heat of their panted breath, and the languid tangling of their limbs, pulling them ever closer. Rosemary gasped as she felt Julen press into her. Trembling beneath the weight of his body, Rosemary let her eyes slip shut. But now, in the sacred space where she usually conjured her husband’s face, Julen refused to appear. Nor did she imagine Sebastian. Instead, she saw a gold coin, falling through infinite darkness. And as it fell, it kept spinning faster and faster...

Spinning far beyond anyone’s ability to control it.