Time for Eternity by Susan Squires Page A

century. It had been about the time the paint was still wet on that canvas that he’d learned his lesson about innocents …
    The tower room was round, its windows narrow slits in the stone that looked out across the valley. Now they revealed only darkness and winking lights from the windows of the village far below. A huge bed laid with brocades and velvet dominated the space. He turned to the girl he had desired since the moment he saw her at her father’s side. She was everything he was not, innocent, hopeful. Perhaps for a few years she could give him back his faith that life was worth living. At least until she grew old and died.
    Just now her blue eyes were wide with fright. How much was the normal apprehension of a virgin on her wedding night? He knew she coveted him. He had felt her eyes on him in her father’s feast hall for many nights, and after the battle, when he had fought like the demon he was against the invading hordes of Saarland, she had welcomed him back to the castle with tears of relief. And now, for saving her father’s realm, she had been given to him in matrimony. He smiled to reassure her. “You must be tired after that long banquet. May I order a bath for you?”
    He enjoyed bathing far more than his hosts here in the Alsace. He had been an itinerant mercenary for nearly a century and a half now, wielding his strength for civilizations from the North of Africa to the Yangtze River, picking up bits of their cultures along the way. He was a skilled general. And he fought his battles at night, often taking the enemy by surprise. It was an effective strategy. Kingdoms vied for his services. He fought for anyone who paid his price, having long ago ceased to care who won and who lost. Life stretched ahead, and he felt insanity lurking in wait for him if he did not find some meaning in it. She could give that to him. Perhaps.
    She shook her head. Her breath was coming in little gasps.
    He turned away lest the intensity of his gaze upset her. He would show her pleasure tonight. Once he had bedded her, all would be fine. He unbuckled his scabbard and chain mail, shined bright for the wedding ceremony, and laid them on a carved bench. Perhaps a look at what was in store would steady her. He pulled his shirt over his head.
    When he turned to face her, naked to the waist, there were beads of sweat on her forehead and she alternately flushed and paled.
    “What is it, Lady Cerise?” he asked, concerned. “Are you well?”
    Her eyes were dilated pools of midnight blue. They matched the voluminous folds of her velvet dress. “They say you are the devil,” she whispered.
    Had she discovered his secrets? “They always say that about a strong man.”
    “You fought like twenty men, stronger than a man can be.”
    Which is why he always moved on after getting his gold. Not this time. He was sick unto death, if death were possible for one such as he, of roaming the world. He couldn’t have family. He at least wanted love. “The better to protect you, now you are mine.”
    “They say …” Her voice was distant now. Not a good sign. “They say that when the battle was done, you returned to the field strewn with slain bodies and while everyone did celebrate in the camp, you … you drank the blood of the dead under the full moon.”
    Very bad. “What old woman has been filling your ears with lies?” He moved in toward her, to comfort her, let her feel the warmth of his body.
    That was when he saw the dagger in the hand she hid in the folds of her skirts. She couldn’t kill him, but he didn’t want to let her see him heal either.
    “Give me that,” he said, imbuing his voice with calm.
    “My father has given me unto the devil,” she said, panting. “In return for victory.”
    “I thought you wanted this …”
    “Before I knew you for a monster.” Her voice cycled up into a wail. “I must save my immortal soul.”
    He’d have to take the knife. Her eyes grew even bigger. And suddenly the knife