Ruth Langan (22 page)
Authors: Blackthorne
She couldn’t blame Quenton for any of this. He had warned her that he was a mere man, with a man’s appetite. He had made no promises. Had offered her no future.
What had she been thinking? She was no better than the young Frenchwoman who was now dancing with the king. No better than the lass from her small village who bad given herself to a man and had returned to be ridiculed for carrying the seed of that illicit union.
The music stopped and Wyatt bowed low. “Thank you for the dance, cousin.” He glanced at Quenton, who was scowling as he approached. “I believe your lover is coming to claim what is his.” He took a step back and, with a very satisfied smile, walked away.
Quenton took one look at her face, devoid of color, and caught her arm. “What is it, Livvy? What did he do to you?”
“Nothing. I just... need to sit down a moment.”
Concerned, he led her to a chair beside Liat, then signaled for a servant. A moment later he handed her a glass of wine. “Perhaps this will revive you.”
She sipped, knowing nothing would help. She was sick at heart. And though she wanted to blame Wyatt, she had to admit that the blame lay with her. All Wyatt had done was point out the obvious. He had forced her to see herself for what she really was. A fool hopelessly in love with a man so high above her station she was bound to have her heart broken. For in truth, a man like Quenton Stamford could never wed her.
The king was in high spirits, and kept the crowd dancing until the small hours of the morning. When he finally bade good-night and left, with Louise de Keroualle on his arm, the crowd began to disperse.
Olivia glanced at Liat, whose eyes were nearly closed. “The poor little thing. I doubt he has the energy to climb the stairs.”
“I’ll carry him.” Quenton lifted the lad in his arms and led the way up the stairs, with Olivia beside him.
At the sight of man and boy, she felt her heart swell. If nothing else, her presence here had brought the two closer together.
In his chambers, Quenton deposited the boy in bed.
As Olivia undressed him and slipped him between the covers, he stirred. “It was a grand night, wasn’t it, ma’am?”
“Aye. And the king was pleased with your gift.”
“He said I might become a master painter.”
“Would you like that?”
He nodded. “I would paint only butterflies.” His eyes closed. “Beautiful, stained-glass butterflies.”
She bent and kissed him, then followed Quenton from the room. At the door to her bedroom they both halted.
Quenton touched a hand to her cheek. “Charles has asked that I meet with him.”
“Now? Quenton, it is almost morning, and you haven’t slept.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “Charles told me that there are some matters he wishes to discuss with me.”
“As his friend? Or as Q?”
He shrugged. “It would be impossible to separate the one from the other. As both his friend and his loyal subject, he knows I will do whatever he asks.”
He could read the disappointment in her eyes. It mirrored his own. He wanted her. Wanted desperately to lie with her. But there was love, and there was duty. And ofttimes the two were at odds.
“I’ll come to you as soon as Charles and I have resolved whatever business is between us.” He brushed his mouth over hers and felt the rush of heat. Would it always be like this? Would he be reduced to a whimpering fool each time he touched her?
He took the kiss deeper, lingering over her lips as though they had been dipped in the sweetest of nectars. When he lifted his head he gave a hiss of impatience,
“Until I return, sleep, my love. For when I do, I promise you, there will be no sleep for either of us.”
She watched him walk away, then let herself into the room and made ready for bed. Though it hurt to know that Wyatt was right, she was forced to admit that, no matter how late the hour, she would be eager for Quenton’s return.
There was pleasure in his arms. But there was also safety. And until he was beside her, she would not feel safe.
She shivered and huddled under the covers. And cursed herself for, her cowardice. All the old nightmares would be back, she knew. And she would be helpless to fight them.
She struggled to stay awake, to hold the demons at bay. But against her will she slept, unlocking all the powers of darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
“H
is Majesty is expecting you.” The king’s valet opened the door to his chambers and led Quenton toward the sumptuous parlor where a fire blazed on the hearth. “I will tell him you have arrived.”
is Majesty is expecting you.” The king’s valet opened the door to his chambers and led Quenton toward the sumptuous parlor where a fire blazed on the hearth. “I will tell him you have arrived.”
He disappeared inside the sleeping chamber and returned minutes later, followed by Charles, looking pleasantly sated, who was tying the sash of a long robe of scarlet cut velvet.
“Bring us ale.” Charles took a seat by the fire and invited Quenton to sit across from him.
The valet poured two goblets and set them and the decanter on a tray, which he deposited on a table between them. “Will there be anything else, Majesty?”
“Nothing. Leave us.”
The king waited until they were alone. Then he picked up the goblet and drank. Quenton did the same.
“It would seem that my generous benefactors have been touched by my invitation to Blackthorne, old fiend In an effort to impress their king, they have made me an even more generous offer than before.”
“How generous?”
“They will make me a gift of two-hundred thousand pounds, which is the amount of the Treasury deficit.”
“Two-hundred thousand.” Quenton’s eyes narrowed. “Where did they come up with such wealth?”
“I did not ask. But it would go a long way toward guaranteeing my smooth reign. Parliament would dare not question my authority when I commanded such a purse.”
“They will not give up a fortune without demanding concessions in return.”
“Aye.” Charles raised a hand. “Don’t look so wary, old friend. What are a few titles and estates, when the reward is so great? And if I must trust them with a few state secrets in return, what is the harm? There are many at court who know such secrets. And none can offer me what these people do.”
“Then you have decided to accept their offer?”
“Not yet. That is where you come in. I have need of my old friend Q.”
Quenton nodded, relieved that the king wasn’t acting in haste. “Give me their names. I’ll see what I can learn about these loyal citizens.”
“This can go no further than you.”
“Understood.”
The king drained his goblet. “My generous benefactors are Lord and Lady Lindsey. And their son, Wyatt.”
Highly agitated, Agatha Lindsey paced the floor of her son’s parlor and looked up sharply when he finally emerged from the bedchamber.
“What kept you? You sent word you wanted me here more than an hour ago.”
“I was busy. A...tasty little serving wench.”
She gave a hiss of disgust. “Your...appetite is getting out of control. Try to curb it until you are safely back in your own bed. Now what is so vexing that I had to be roused at this hour?”
“My spy tells me that Lord Stamford has sent a rider to London.”
“What is that to us?”
“His solicitors are in London. As are ours.”
She arched a brow. “You think he suspects something?”
“I think,” he said, pausing to stare into the fire, “that we need to move more quickly than planned.”
“Aye.” Her tone was low with fury. “It is just as well. It offends me to see my sister’s daughter flaunting her newfound status as mistress to the king’s closest friend.”
“Then have no fear. I have plans for my little cousin and Lord Stamford. By the time I’m through with them, they will welcome death like the embrace of an old lover.”
Olivia was caught up in the dream again. Strong hands pinning her while she struggled to break free. Feelings of shock and revulsion as her skirts were shoved aside, her modesty violated. Eyes, cold and lifeless, staring down at her as cruel laughter mocked her. Desperate to escape the horror, she fought her way up through the layers of sleep and bolted up in the
“Livvy. Livvy.” Quenton’s arms came around her and he gathered her close, stroking her hair. “Wake up, love. You’re having a bad dream.”
“Aye.” Her breath was coming in short gasps. She clung to him for long moments until her breathing steadied. Then she pushed away and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m all right now.”
“I wish I could ease your burden.” He gave a weary sigh.
“You do, Quenton. Just having you here to hold me is such comfort from my demons.”
“You aren’t the only one fighting demons tonight. I just left Bennett. Minerva is worried about him. This was the worst yet. For a while, we thought we wouldn’t be able to bring him out of it.”
“Oh, poor Bennett. He’d been doing so well. What do you think brought it on?”
“Perhaps the strain of all these strangers at Blackthorne. Minerva said that, while greeting the king’s guests, he became so agitated, she feared his heart would explode inside his chest. I’ve told her to watch him carefully and summon me if there is any change.”
Olivia glanced around the room. The tapers were lit. Quenton was fully dressed. “You’re not coming to bed?”
“I must go below stairs.”
“Now?”
“I’m sorry, my love. But I believe my grandfather’s ledgers hold the answers to some very pressing questions. The sooner I find them, the sooner I can help Charles.” At the look on her face he was quick to add, “If I’m lucky, I might find what I’m searching for soon, and we’ll still have a little time to ourselves.” He kissed her, hard and quick, before turning away. At the door he paused, looked back, then strode across the room and kissed her again, long and deep, until they wene both gasping.
“That will have to do until I return.”
This time he made it out the door without looking at her.
When the door closed she slipped out of bed and began to pace. She shivered and thought about the warmth of the covers. But her bed held no temptation for her. She would rather walk the floor until dawn than face the dream again. What was even worse than the dream was the reality. The source of all her fears was right here at Blackthorne, separated only by a few walls.
She wouldn’t feel truly safe until Quenton returned. Or until their guests departed on the morrow. Until then she would watch and wait. And keep her wits about her.
“Good morrow, my lady.” Minerva entered Olivia’s room and paused just inside the door.
Olivia looked up from brushing Liat’s hair.
“Master Bennett desires you and the lad to break your fast with him in his chambers before you join the king and his guests below stairs.”
“Bennett will not be going down with us?”
“He is unwell.”
“We’ll come at once.”
Olivia caught Liat’s hand and led him out of the room and along the hallway. Just as they reached Bennett’s rooms, they saw Quenton, with Thor at his heel, walking toward them. A dark growth of beard covered his cheeks and chin. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair tousled. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled, the buttons opened.
Olivia brushed a palm over his scratchy beard. “Have you had no sleep?”
“Nay.” He caught her hand, lifted it to his lips. “And you, love? Did you sleep after I left you?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t face the demons again. We were summoned here by Bennett. I am told he is not well.”
They entered the room and found Bennett seated by the window, staring at the cliffs. The servant, Edlyn, was busy removing food from a heavy silver tray and arranging it on a table set up in front of the fire.
Olivia shivered when she saw the bleak look in Bennett’s eyes. This was how he had looked when she’d first arrived at Blackthorne. Helplessly lost inside a prison in his mind. His failing condition seemed all the more shocking because he’d been making such progress.
“It was kind of you to invite us to share your meal, Bennett.” She dropped a hand on his shoulder and he covered her hand with his. And clung.
“What is it, Bennett? What has happened to make you so ill?”
Minerva tucked a blanket around his knees. “I think perhaps Master Bennett has partaken of too many activities.”
“Aye.” Quenton clapped a hand on his brother’s back. “You’ll rest today. And take some sun in the garden.”
Across the room Edlyn poured tea and filled several plates with fruit conserve.
Seeing it, Minerva said, “Thank you, Edlyn. I’ll see to Master Bennett’s food.”
Edlyn’s usual frown deepened. “Mistress Thornton said I was to remain here and serve the table.”
“We can see to ourselves.” Olivia crossed the room and held the door, leaving the surly servant no choice but to leave. “I’m sure Mistress Thornton could use your help below stairs.”
With a negligent shrug the servant picked up the empty tray and walked from the room.
When they were alone, Minerva let out a sigh of gratitude. “Thank you, miss. I doubt she would have left if you hadn’t intervened.” She lowered her voice. “That woman knows everyone’s business here at Blackthorne.”
Olivia nodded. “Aye.” Thinking back to her first night under this roof, she added, “And is willing to share it with all who will listen.”
As they began to eat Quenton cast worried looks at his pale brother, who, despite Minerva’s coaxing, ate less than half his biscuit and refused even a sip of tea. From the looks of him, he would soon be too weak to leave his bed. After sipping hot mulled wine to revive his spirits, Quenton pushed away from the table and touched a hand to Bennett’s. It felt as cold, as lifeless, as death.
“You must try to eat something, Bennett. If not for your own sake, then for Minerva’s.”
Both Bennett and Minerva shot him a questioning look. He lowered his voice, as though sharing a confidence. “If Pembroke and Mistress Thornton should decide that Minerva is not doing her job well enough, they might assign her to some other duties. And assign someone else, even Edlyn, to your care.”
Satisfied that he’d thrown a sufficient scare into his brother, he turned away. “Come along now, Olivia, Liat. You two must join the king and his party below stairs. And I must see about making myself presentable.”
As he started toward the door, he had the satisfaction of seeing Bennett lift the cup to his lips and sip. At least it was a start.
“Ah, here is my pretty little cousin now.” Wyatt was positively glowing as Olivia and Liat entered the dining hall. He and his family were seated at the king’s table. Agatha and her daughter, Catherine, were smiling smugly, enjoying the fact that they were now the center of attention. Robert and Wyatt appeared supremely confident as they flanked Charles and his mistress, Louise. Their stature had definitely improved.
“Come, my dear,” the king called. “We were just talking about you. I had no idea that you were related to these fine people.”
Her hand tightened on Liat’s as she made her way up the steps of the dais and realized that she would have to sit beside Wyatt.
Pembroke held her chair and she gave him a weak smile.
The housekeeper appeared at her side. “Tea, Miss St. John?”
“Nay. I just finished having tea with Bennett.”
“I was told he is unwell.” The king helped himself to a joint of fowl. “How is he faring, my lady?”
“He seems quite weak. But perhaps after a day of rest, he will find his strength.”
“He merely grieves because I am leaving.” Charles glanced around. “Where is his brother?”
“Lord Stamford. will be down shortly, Majesty. He told me to assure you he will be here when his guests take their leave.”
Beside her Wyatt sipped hot mulled wine and gave Olivia his most charming smile. “With Lord Stamford not around, it will give my family and me a chance to visit with our beloved Olivia” He closed a hand over hers. “Do tell us everything you’ve been doing since you left our home in London.”
“There is little to tell.” Knowing the king was watching, Olivia was forced to go along with his little charade. But the touch of him was so repugnant, she forcefully removed her hand and clenched it in her lap. “I find my work here very satisfying.”
“I am certain you do. I would expect no less from my sister’s child.” Agatha’s smile never reached her eyes. She regarded the young woman with calculating shrewdness before turning to Charles. “We imbued in our children a sense of honor and duty to king and country. The love and loyalty Olivia feels toward Lord Stamford is the same love and loyalty we all feel toward you, Majesty.”
Charles was deeply touched. “Your king welcomes your affection. It will not go unrewarded.” He glanced around the table. “I regret that our time together was so limited. But since we will now be together in London, I will see that you are all invited often to court.”
Agatha smiled. And looked down at all the titled guests watching from their tables below. She had waited a lifetime for this. It was the sweetest victory. “And once I am settled again in my London estate, Majesty, I will arrange a festive dinner in your honor.”
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