Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

Ayleth frowned and pushed him away immediately. "I do not see what is funny," she said, hurt that he took her feelings and secrets so lightly.

"No, Ayleth, I'm sorry," he whispered, catching her wrist and pulling her back, into his chest. He hugged her, a sweet embrace, setting his chin at her ear. But his shoulder still shook.

"You're laughing at me!" she cried, tears threatening.

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"No, I'm not. I promise. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the situation. The irony is so bittersweet… dear Lord, it's in moments like these I know the Creator has a sense of humor."

"What does the Goddess have to do with this?" she snapped. They both froze, realizing they'd been speaking normally, here in the dark of the stable, where any of the stablehands might here. They stood quietly, still embracing for a moment, Etan scanning the dark behind her, Ayleth's ears pricked for footsteps or voices. But nothing came.

After a minute, Etan pulled back and whispered that they should go to the loft. "I think it will be safer there," he said.

She nodded and let him lead her by the hand through the stable aisles until they returned to the loft they'd visited the night before, and crept over the boards, into the back portion of it, where it stood empty and unused, far away from the stable boys' quarters.

Etan was drawn immediately to the large hole in the wall, and he stood, leaning on the frame, staring out into the clear night.

Ayleth stayed a few feet back, her arms folded across her chest, still smarting that he seemed to think her situation funny. But, even then, even angry at him and a little hurt, something inside her itched to touch him—urged her to reach for him. "What is wrong with me?" she whispered.

"Nothing, nothing, my love," Etan said, turning back to her. "I'm sorry. My laughter truly wasn't at your expense… more my own. You see, what you're describing… this is the way men feel. Quite often. Especially when we're young."

Ayleth pressed her lips together. "My father spoke of the burning of men's bodies, but it didn't sound like… like this need."

"It is, I assure you," he said darkly. "And sometimes sparked by just anything—the right glance, a strand of hair falling on a shoulder—a dress. Ayleth, there were days when I was younger that I had to avoid mixed company or embarrass myself—and everyone else. My body was so… demanding."

"What did you do?"

He snorted. "Well, for a few years I gave into it. If she was willing and the risk was low. But…" he stepped closer, opening his arms so she could walk into them if she wished. And after a moment, she did. "I can tell you, he said, stroking her hair with both hands, "that while it was a great deal of fun—most of the time—and certainly banked the fire… it didn't have the same quality as this. As you," he murmured. His eyes locked on hers and Ayleth's breath caught at the intensity in him. "I stopped giving in to those urges when I was about twenty, because there was an… emptiness. A hollow inside me. I enjoyed the physical release, but my soul was never satisfied. That fire only grew."

"Etan," she said, horrified, "If this gets worse I may leap on you during a waltz!" He threw back his head and laughed, and she shushed him. "What is so funny?" she hissed.

"I would love nothing more than for you to leap on me—anywhere, my love," he said through his chuckles. "But we will not give in—you will not give in. We will not give our parents any other reason to fight us."

She nodded, though she felt less certain than he sounded. "I suppose you're right." But how she yearned! "Although—my mother did say—"

"Oh, Love, please… please don't give my heart reasons to question the wisdom of waiting. I know we could. And I know it would be wonderful. But… I'm also certain that for us, for what we face, we cannot give in and give anyone any reason to question us further."

He took her chin in his big hand and brought it up. She hoped he would kiss her, but instead he held her gaze and smiled. "Our day will come, Ayleth. And when it does, it will be glorious. The more you practice banking that fire, the greater the reward will be when we can let it run loose."

His eyes went distant then, but glowed with a fierce and joyful light. He could see something in his mind, she knew. She wished she could see what it was.

"Etan?" she whispered. He blinked and focused on her again. "How long must we wait?"

"I don't know," he whispered back, his eyes searching hers. "But I pray not nearly as long as I fear."