Was there a man anywhere who wouldn’t scorn her emotions? Was there someone who would understand and even appreciate that she couldn’t hold in her feelings and hide them all the time? Even Ysabeau often looked uncomfortable when Elyce cried or otherwise showed too much emotion. And yet Ysa had just cried. She had also cried after Elyce woke up. Instead of looking down on her, Elyce had felt only compassion at her friend’s distress.
Her aunt always said that crying in public was unacceptable, not behavior that set an example to all around them, as a princess’s behavior should. Poor servants could afford to let their emotions show. But not her.
For now, she just needed to focus on praying that God would not let any harm come to Sir Gerard for the service he had rendered her, that they would not be caught by King Claude, and that King Wenceslaus would help them.
* * *
Gerard marveled that Bertold, of all people, was the one who insisted they all sleep close together that night, near the fire, with the bearskins and furs covering them.
Gerard thought it was a good idea but was glad he had not had to suggest it. Even after an hour of sitting by the fire, Princess Elyce’s hair still looked wet and her lips were slightly blue. She’d been in the water longer and was just a slip of a thing.
But who would sleep beside the princess? Ysabeau would certainly lie on one side, but Gerard could not abide the thought of either Bertold or Sir Oswalt sleeping on her other side. And yet how could he suggest that person should be him?
They all seemed to be waiting for Bertold to instruct them. Indeed, he was busy arranging the blankets and furs to his liking.
“Lie down there,” he told the princess, “and Ysabeau shall lie there beside you.” He pointed. Then he looked around until he caught Gerard’s eye. “You are to sleep on her other side, while remembering that you are a noble knight who would not wish to disgrace his king nor his family’s title and good name.”
“I would never behave ignobly toward Princess Elyce, nor any other lady.” He turned to face the princess. “You have my word that I will do nothing untoward.”
“I trust you,” she said.
His heart did a strange flip inside his chest. Something about the look in her eyes made him want to linger and search out their mysteries.
Everyone was staring at him.
“Good.” Bertold went on, “Sir Oswalt, you will lie next to the noble princess’s servant and show equal knightly courtesy, and I shall sleep on the other side of Sir Gerard. This is how the native peoples of the north sleep, and it is wise and prudent and may be the only thing that can keep these two warm after their icy swim.”
Everyone moved with sobriety and purpose as they prepared to sleep.
The two women lay down first, and he saw that the princess was still shivering.
Gerard and Sir Oswalt lay down next, surrounding the women. Then Bertold helped with the furs, covering them, and settled himself on Gerard’s other side.
Gerard was highly aware of Princess Elyce lying next to him on her back, her arms folded over her chest, unmoving. This arrangement was about staying warm, but it did feel a bit . . . awkward.
Her elbow was pressed against his upper arm, but other than that, he was not touching her.
Bertold suddenly rolled over and pushed Gerard into the princess.
“Get closer,” Bertold said gruffly. “This is survival. She won’t have to marry you after keeping each other warm tonight.”
“Forgive me,” Gerard said softly to Princess Elyce, who was gazing over at him. They were now pressed against each other, her side against his, though now he was turned slightly toward her.
She smiled slightly. “All is well.” But she stayed in the same defensive position.
“Everyone, go to sleep,” Bertold’s rough voice ordered. “We have to get up before dawn to make sure they don’t find us.” Then he mumbled something about an enormous fire and women falling through ice.
Elyce’s gaze met Gerard’s, and she pressed her lips together, looking embarrassed.
Gerard whispered, “The Prince of Valkenfeld has spoken.”
“I heard that!” Bertold’s voice was more grumpy than threatening.
The princess covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed. She made a sound like air bursting through pursed lips.
Moments later, she opened her eyes. Gerard wished he could say something to make her laugh out loud. He suddenly wanted to hear that sound more than anything. But it was not the time or place for such things, so he just winked. She smiled back, and the awkwardness melted away.
The fire was growing smaller, and it was getting more difficult to see her face. He closed his eyes and did his best to fall asleep beside the Princess of Montciel.
* * *
Elyce awoke during the night feeling very warm and comfortable. Was she at home in her bed? No, her bed had never been this hard.
She opened her eyes to darkness. A slight glow came from the fire, while the sky was mostly blocked from view by the evergreen trees under which they were sleeping. But someone was sleeping very close to her, so close she could feel the person’s body. And then she remembered: She’d fallen asleep between Ysa and Sir Gerard. And the body sleeping with his face only a handsbreadth from hers was the latter.
She must have turned over in her sleep as she now was facing him. And he was facing her. She stared intently at him, but she could see nothing in the darkness and heard only the faint sound of his breathing. He was asleep.
Bertold’s plan had worked. She was very warm, the warmest she had been in days. Her ears still felt clogged with water, but her fingers, her cheeks, and even her nose and toes were quite warm and had lost that painful pins-and-needles sensation. And if she no longer had any ill effects from falling into the icy water, then hopefully Sir Gerard would not either.
She could not have borne the guilt if he got sick and died because he’d saved her. How could she face Delia? But even worse . . . she had grown to think fondly of the English knight who had come to the Continent simply to help her. She couldn’t bear to bring harm to him. There was something about him that was different from any other man she had ever known, though she was still trying to identify and name just what that was.
Her arms were in front of her, her hands pressing against Sir Gerard’s chest. But there were several layers of clothing between them. She would not be silly about sleeping so close. It was not as if she was touching his skin.
And yet . . . there was something deliciously intimate about sleeping next to him.
She was being foolish. She should pretend she felt nothing. To do otherwise would cause her to humiliate herself.
Aunt Winifred had told her it was a sin to let her feelings run wild. Perhaps that was true, but should she deny their existence? Was it a sin to lie to oneself?
Life, and her feelings, so often confused her.
What she knew was that Sir Gerard seemed to be a good man, and she would treat him as such. He had saved her life and seemed glad to do it, so how could she not feel something, gratitude at least, for him?
And he was handsome, with his light-brown hair and bright eyes, his high cheekbones and strong jawline. He even had a perfectly shaped nose, which she couldn’t help but notice. But his manner was what was so pleasing—gentle and polite. And yet he could also be quite strident and forceful.
Had Sir Gerard also lain awake at some point during the night and thought about her? Probably not. He was too sensible. She was only his sister’s friend. He would not have foolish, irrational thoughts about her. Besides, he was a knight and she was a princess, and when this was resolved and she was back in Montciel, he would go back to England and resume his duties.