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I had just barely said 'I love you" before my eyes caught the bobbing glow of lanterns across the courtyard. In a daze, still breathing heavy under my breastplate, I pulled my hands out from beneath her skirts and watched her lips fall open - aghast at both my quickness in backing away and at her husband's guards trotting closer by the second. Aureole twisted and turned to fix her cloth as I scrambled to put my gauntlets on and tuck my head down out of view. The thrill of the moment made her laugh, and the guards passed by with a short greeting, likely thinking exchanging jokes was all we were doing in the shade of the trees.
When we were left alone in the comfort of darkness once more, I leaned her down in my arms while she hid her face, embarrassed and relieved. I could only hope the look in my eyes was enough to communicate all that I felt, but in case it was inadequate, I kissed her as many times as she would allow. I held back from admitting that I was hopeless. It would never be my place to watch her waking face in the morning. Never my place to take her as my own.
Aureole put a stop to the heart-rending grief that threatened to bring me to tears by smiling into me, and pushing me away far enough to catch her breath. She whispered something about the church's horror at the coupling of two women, let alone the scandal that we had steeped ourselves into.
The church. For a moment, a dreadful sensation echoed in my ribs. As if my heart was pierced by some foreign, barbed arrow, and dragged backward through my spine at the thought of abandoning my God.
Was it He, tearing through my body as punishment for what I had done? For my sin of loving the sweet woman who loved me too?
Her warm lips pressed to my cheek took me from my stupor, and a contrasting stream of thoughts came to me. I had seen people working by the convent I was raised in - the scribes, the illuminators - making illustrations and manuscripts that mocked my love. Demons marrying two women and two men together.
The monks believe in our God just like I do. The difference was that they had the nerve to swear the devil acted within me, when I had fought and bled for this holy land, protecting servants like them. I realised, with my lady before me, that illustrations do not speak for my God. I will not be met with a painter's scowling face on judgement day. No monk or nun will damn me nor bless me at the gates. Only the Lord himself had that right.
And as He holds that power, I can only hope he uses it on those more deserving than I, because I am not leaving Aureole. Not on her wedding night. Not when she is bound to that shameful excuse of a husband. Not ever, I thought.
"...Hello? Am I that breathtaking to you?" Aureole laughed at me. How long had I been silent for? Did I look regretful?
"Apologies, lady. But you are." I said, shaking any other thought that wasn't her out of my head.
"Are what?" She replied, distracted. Staring at my lips again. Chivalry, woman. Courtesy, I had to remind myself, running my fingers through the ringlets of blonde hair that framed her face.
Again, despite all my education, I knew no words to describe her. Or too many words. Phrases. Sonnets. Say something, you fool.
"The.. one I want to be with, my lady." I muttered, feeling a flush creeping to my cheeks.
"Well, as for my husband," Aureole began sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the thought of him. "I doubt he'll even make it to our bed. He's been drinking toasts to other women for hours."
My brows furrowed, some vulgar insult for the man itching at the back of my throat. Before I could speak, she had placed my hand over her heart, fingertips brushing the neckline of her wedding gown. Her other hand slid into my hair, tugging me down to see her expression.
"Don't leave me tonight. I need you, my love. Will you take me to bed?" She pleaded, her gaze searing away at the threads of my restraint. It didn't take a scholar's mind to see that she yearned for me. I couldn't deny her if I tried.
As I helped her up from the ground and let her lead me towards her quarters, smiling and laughing like she'd been waiting for this, I had no strength in me to care about punishment. Why should I, when an angel God had sent loves me so? For all I was concerned, her presence was His mercy unto me.