The Kiss
The silver stallion glided effortlessly across the green, open land. The only sound the woman could hear was the rhythmic thunder of hoofs becoming ever louder as each powerful stride brought them closer.
But it was to the rider she looked – anxious, nervous and impatient.
Finally, the horse reared up just a little way in front of her, a magnificent sight to behold. Hot breath bellowed from the animal's flaring nostrils as the rider pulled hard on the reins, commanding the creature to a stand still. As the horse angrily pranced to and fro, the rider kept his eyes fixed firmly on the woman in front of him. His rugged, handsome face as always without emotion. But shrouded behind a curtain of dark tousled hair, his deep piercing eyes danced like fire.
The woman looked up at the Knight - for a Knight he was - her heart pounding with fear and anticipation. From where she stood she could see the dark, damp tarnish of death drenched upon his leather armour and the allusion sent a reluctant tremble through her body.
Ah, but it had been so long since she had last seen this man. The memory of their last acquaintance was as vivid to her as if it had been only yesterday and not so many months before.
He had ridden away from her then…...
Not knowing if she would ever look upon his beautiful, melancholy face again, she had finally poured out her very soul to him that day. She could stop herself no longer. Months of wishing and longing had finally taken their toll upon her poor heart.
'My God!' she had thought 'Does this infuriating man not see how much I love him?'
She did not, could not, believe him heartless. He could not be the empty soul others believed. She alone had seen his shyness, his loneliness, his pain.
Sometimes at the tavern, she had looked to the Knight, only to catch him watching her. His eyes always spoke, even though he did not.
She had longed to go to him, to have him hold her in his strong, slender arms. But what if she was wrong? Fear had stopped her, fear that he would spurn her, ridicule her even. She would rather have lived to never hear her name upon his lips, than suffer his rejection.
But on that day, many months ago, the Knight was to ride away with his brothers-in-arms to face, yet again, dangers untold. Battle was inevitable and the sudden realisation that she may never see him again drove the woman on to finally confront him. She had nothing to lose now and she could bear the unrequited love no longer.
As she stood in front of the Knight - tears stinging her cheeks, telling him of her love - he stayed silent as always. His head tilted slightly down, eyes peering at her through his dishevelled long hair. The only movement he had made was the slow trail of his glistening tongue across his lip as he listened.
Weeping quietly and with no more words to offer him, the Knight had then turned from her suddenly. Without a single word, he mounted his horse and urged the animal on slowly.
The woman had stood quite still, looking upon the retreating man. At that moment, just as the realisation of what he had done befell her and her body about to crumble along with the remaining tatters of her heart, he had stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
Their eyes met and she heard his voice.
"Wait for me?" He then rode on, not waiting for her reply...
And now, here he was.
As he dismounted, she wondered at the gracefulness of the Knight. His body was lean but so obviously powerful. He moved like a panther- prowling almost- eyes so intense she felt he could see into her very soul. He was the hunter and she his willing prey.
He strode towards her, his head tilted slightly down but his eyes never leaving hers. His tousled hair fluttered slightly in the breeze exposing his handsome features momentarily with every step.
He stopped in front of the woman, his forehead almost touching hers. He reached out and clasped his long fingers around her arms, touching her for the very first time.
'You waited for me.' He spoke in a low, husky tone.
The sound of his voice sent thrills through the woman's body. Closing her eyes just for a moment she could hardly believe it real. When she lifted her lashes to again look upon the Knight, her Knight, she could see the passion burning in his eyes. He pulled her in close, so close she could feel his rising breath gently kissing her skin and then she felt his warm mouth touch hers and those hands that had not so long before taken life, cruelly and mercilessly, were now holding her face so tenderly to his own.
The Knight could hardly fight back the emotion bursting from his lonely and empty heart. As he stood burying his face into the beautiful, dark hair of the woman in his arms, he heard her whisper…
'Tristan, my Tristan…you came home'
He knew from that moment on he would never feel loneliness again.
THE END