The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(79)

Evangeline pulled away. The priest was giving them a horrified look. She hadn’t known his eyes could open that wide.

“Are you kissing in the Lord God’s chapel? There is no kissing in the chapel! Unless it is to seal a marriage vow.”

Westley stood and kept hold of her hand. He did not apologize. He only nodded at the priest as they left, and he led her down the steps. “I’ve never been asked to leave the chapel for kissing before,” he said.

“Are you sure? Because you don’t seem very embarrassed about it.”

“Why should I be embarrassed for kissing the woman I plan to marry?”

Evangeline bit her lip. The king had not given them permission yet. And he might not. After all, Westley had no title, and the king did not believe in marrying for love. She was Richard’s political pawn, and Lord Shiveley had revealed to her just how valuable a pawn she was. Would her cousin give her up to Westley?

As they reached the main floor, Lord le Wyse and King Richard were walking into the Great Hall, talking as if they were old friends.

Westley stopped her short and turned to face her in a dark corner near the stairs. “I haven’t thanked you for being willing to give yourself to Shiveley to save me.”

His handsome face was so close to hers, she could almost count his eyelashes, even in the dim torchlight. His gaze was focused on her lips, but he leaned down and touched his lips to her cheek.

“I . . . I don’t know what you mean.”

“When you told Shiveley you would willingly marry him if he would save me from the moat. I thought you were still angry with me.”

“I was very angry with you. You also accused me of wanting to marry Shiveley. But I knew you didn’t mean it, and I still loved you.”

His lips brushed her cheek again, but this time an inch closer to her lips.

She should probably ask him what he meant by kissing her, since the king had not given him permission to marry her, or mention that he did not smell very good after his swim in the moat. But if she spoke, he would know by her voice how much his simple kisses affected her.

“I’m sorry I doubted that you could be helpful.” He kissed her other cheek, pulling her even closer.

Why didn’t he kiss her lips? Didn’t he know she wanted him to?

He kissed her chin.

“I already forgave you,” she whispered.

“Will you marry me?” He kissed her forehead. “If your cousin the king will give us permission?” He looked into her eyes and brought his hands up, his palms cradling her face.

“I will marry you even if he doesn’t give us permission.” She sounded breathless.

He brought his mouth down to kiss her lips. She did her best to kiss him back. Was she doing it well? Were there rules to kissing? If there were, she didn’t know them, but Westley didn’t seem inclined to complain.

He ended the kiss and caressed her jawline with his thumb. “I’m so in love with you, Evangeline.” His breath was warm on her temple. “And seeing you stomp Shiveley’s foot to get away from him . . . I wanted to carry you off right then and there, all the way back to Glynval.”

She closed her eyes and savored his words. “I felt the same way when you were sword fighting with Lord Shiveley. You looked so powerful.”

His expression showed her praise affected him.

Someone cleared his throat about thirty feet away. Evangeline turned to see Richard and Westley’s father standing there. Her cheeks burned.

The king said, “The servants are preparing a small feast for us in honor of our defeat of Lord Shiveley.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Westley said.

The king smiled as though amused, and Lord le Wyse raised his brows as they turned and went back toward the Great Hall.

Westley’s blue eyes were staring into hers again. “I suppose we should not anger the king, not when I have something so important to ask of him. Shall we go?”

She wanted to say something daring like, “If you promise to kiss me again soon,” but she only whispered, “As you wish.”



Westley held Evangeline’s hand under the table while his father and the king discussed various political situations the king was dealing with. He waited for a chance to speak.

“Westley,” Evangeline said softly, gazing at him with those beautiful green eyes of hers, “will you ask that servant over there where Muriel is?”

He waved to the servant girl, and she hurried over. Evangeline leaned away from the table and asked her, “Where is Muriel?”

“She is with Frederick, my lady.”

“So she is safe?”

“I should say so. They went to the priest to ask him to bless their marriage.”

Evangeline’s eyes widened, but she smiled and thanked the servant. She squeezed Westley’s hand under the table.

Just then, the king finally looked his way and addressed him. “Westley, Evangeline has very good instincts about men, do you not think?”

“Uh, of course, Your Highness.”

“She told me she did not wish to marry Lord Shiveley and was quite emphatic that she did not think he was the kind of person I thought he was. Unfortunately, I did not listen to her and she ran away. Would you not say that showed good insight—even foresight?”

“There is no doubt she is a remarkable and extraordinary woman. And I would like to ask you, if I may—”