Blood of the Rose (11 page)

“I suspect this Vampire attack was aimed at establishing my allegiances rather than Rosalind’s.”

“It’s very likely,” Rhys replied. “The Vampires can have no doubt where Rosalind’s loyalties lie.”

Even though it was true, Rhys’s calm assumption that Christopher’s loyalty was questionable still stung. “Lady Anne thought the Vampire Council sent me to defend her. After tonight, I wonder if she’ll continue to believe it.”

“It would be a good thing if she did,” Rosalind said thoughtfully, her gaze moving between Rhys and Christopher. “She might share more secrets with you if she thought you were on her side.”

Christopher rose. “You wish me to play both sides of this treacherous game?”

“Yes.” Rosalind stood too. “We need all the help we can get. It’s not as if we can just kill Anne and her brother in front of the whole court. We have to find a way to dispose of them discreetly and probably without the king’s approval.”

Christopher held out his hand. “We should go. Perhaps we can discuss this when you are feeling better.”

Rosalind took his hand and he led her out of the stable block and back toward the Clock court, where they were both lodged. The clock struck three times, the sound echoing in the stillness. In the shadow of the archway, Rosalind stopped walking and cupped his cheek.

“I know that this is difficult for you.”

He moved his head until his lips met her skin and kissed it, used the tip of his tongue to circle her palm until he felt her shiver and draw even closer. For once, he welcomed the surge of lust that shuddered through him. His need for her surpassed all other considerations about loyalty, broken promises, and the never-ending complications of his mother’s Vampire legacy.

He raised his head to find Rosalind looking steadily at him, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable, and kissed her gently on the mouth. Her lips parted and he surged inside, used his tongue to lick and flick against hers in an erotic dance that simply inflamed his already starved passions.

Her fingers moved over his jerkin and he groaned as she tugged at the lacing on his undershirt and shoved her hand inside to caress his chest. His prick strained against the confines of his hose. He wanted her hand on him, her mouth . . .

Without conscious thought, he cupped her bottom and drew her up on tiptoe to fit against him. His back hit the brick wall, and he stayed there, glad of something solid behind him. She kissed him, her tongue as voracious as his, her body pressed against him from knee to shoulder. He knew he should draw back, that they were in a public place, but he couldn’t seem to find the will.

“Rosalind,” he murmured against her lips.

Her hand tightened in his hair and he winced. Her words echoed in his mind.
“Christopher Ellis, if you stop now, I will run you through with your own dagger.
”

He wasn’t sure if he was capable of stopping. His blood was on fire, and his prick begged for satisfaction. He shifted his hand and ripped at the ties on her hose. Then he slid his fingers into the glorious wet warmth between her legs. By God’s teeth, she felt so delicious he almost disgraced himself and spilled his seed like an untried youth.

She made a hungry, mewling sound as he started to move. His fingers circling and sliding through her lush wet folds and the tight swollen bud at the very center of her need, he increased his tempo, slid two fingers deep, and almost groaned aloud when she tightened around him and took her pleasure. Her mind tangled with his, and her delight overflowed and enhanced the rising need within him. God, he needed her hand on him—

Before he’d even completed the thought, she untied the points of his hose and her fingers closed around his prick. He started to thrust urgently into her hand, discretion forgotten, need paramount, completion so vital that he wouldn’t have been able to stop if the entire court had been watching.

His seed spilled into her hand and he kept thrusting as pleasure shuddered through him and her in an endless spiral. When he finally went quiet, his face was pressed against the crook of her neck and he was panting as if he’d run for miles.

“That was . . . not how I intended to woo you, my lady. I envisioned a bed and a long night of love play.”

Rosalind disengaged her hand from his now deflated prick and smiled at him. “This was perfect.”

“Not quite, as I didn’t get inside you.”

“Perfect for now, I meant.” She rearranged her clothing, her cheeks now flushed and her eyes dreamy. He wanted to untie her hair and lay her on his bed, slowly uncover her nakedness and spend hours worshipping every inch of her skin. “I confess I was desperate to touch you.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my lady.” He paused and scanned her face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all. In truth I feel much better than I have for months.”

“You missed me, then?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Of course I did.”

“Then why did you stay away for so long?” The words were out before he could stop them.

She drew away from him, her expression suddenly shuttered, her mind slamming shut against him. He felt it like a physical blow. “Because there was no reason for me to be at court.”

He caught her hand. “You told me that there is always a Llewellyn at court guarding the Tudors.”

“Jasper was here.”

“But he doesn’t have the mark of Awen, does he? And only that mark brings special access to the king.”

“What do you know about it?”

She sounded defensive now, and he hated it, hated the part of himself that couldn’t help but push to expose the truth, even if it hurt them both. “I know that only a few Druids are born with the mark of Awen—including you.”

Her right hand went to her left wrist as if covering the evidence. “What is your point, my lord?”

“I just wondered why you felt it was all right to leave the king unprotected for so long.”

“He wasn’t unprotected!” She turned on her heel. “And you are being ridiculous.”

“If I’m being ridiculous, why are you getting so upset?”

She swung around to glare at him. “Because you said you believed in me, and yet you are suggesting I neglected my duty to the king.”

Christopher stared at her. “I do believe in you; that has nothing to do with asking why you stayed away so long.”

“Mayhap I simply didn’t want to deal with you. Is that what you want me to say?”

He leaned back against the wall and looked heavenward. “Of course not.”

He heard her sigh. “Sometimes I don’t think you know what you want, Christopher. Sometimes I think you blame me for making your life too complicated and try to find fault simply to drive me away. Good night, my lord.”

He didn’t stop her leaving, knew she wouldn’t listen to him if he tried. Did he truly blame her for the twists and turns of his existence? But the fact remained that she had stayed away from court—from him—and surely he had a right to wonder why.

He straightened away from the wall. Whatever Rosalind felt about him, he had an obligation to keep her safe. He watched until she entered the ladies’ quarters, and then turned back to his own bed. He was on duty in the king’s privy chamber in less than three hours, and he needed to rest. With his shoulder still throbbing from the Vampire’s blow, and his body wanting Rosalind, he doubted his wish for peaceful slumber would be granted.

Rosalind checked to see that Christopher had left and then paused in the doorway of the ladies-in-waiting quarters. She registered the all-too-familiar aroma of wolf. Elias Warner stepped out from the shadows of the stairwell and bowed to her. He carried a candle, which illuminated his gold doublet and matching hose and his perfect face.

“Good morning, my lady.”

Rosalind allowed Elias to see the silver-tipped dagger she had in her hand. “Good morning, Elias. And what exactly are you doing in the ladies’ quarters at this time of night?”

“Just visiting, my lady.” His smile was full of satisfaction.

“Visiting whom?”

“The Lady Anne and I are quite well acquainted.”

“Is that so?” Rosalind paused, surprised and slightly suspicious that Elias had been so open. “Then perhaps you might warn her that I intend to protect the king to the best of my ability.”

Elias leaned against the doorframe. “Oh, don’t worry, my lady. I’ve already done that.”

“Do you intend to kill me, then?”

He considered her, his head to one side. She couldn’t help but notice two puncture marks marring the whiteness of his throat. “I would prefer it if you just went home. Strangely enough, I would hate to have to kill you.”

“I cannot go home. I have a duty to protect the king from the Vampire race, even if it means I die trying.”

“I know that, my lady, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Don’t be.” Rosalind sheathed her dagger. “Why are you so devoted to Lady Anne’s success? What has she promised you in return?”

Elias’s smile died. “You assume that my loyalty can only be bought?”

Rosalind answered his question with one of her own. “Are you suggesting that your
emotions
are involved?”

“I’m suggesting nothing.” Elias bowed. “Go home, Lady Rosalind, and you may as well take Lord Christopher Ellis with you. You cannot win this time, and you would be foolish to even try.”

“But I cannot leave. You know that. And it appears that Lord Christopher has his own alliance with the Boleyn family.”

“You think he would choose the Boleyns over you?”

Rosalind opened her eyes wide. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Elias stared at her for a long moment, handed her his lit candle, and then disappeared. Rosalind let out her breath. Was it possible that Elias was in love with Anne Boleyn? Or did he simply expect to gain some advantage from that relationship? Was Anne
feeding
from him to shore up her Vampire powers? Anything was possible. She’d tried to make Elias think that Christopher’s loyalties were in doubt, but she wasn’t sure if he believed her.

She slowly climbed the stairs toward her allotted sleeping space. With her dear friend Margaret no longer at court, she would be sharing a bed with a stranger. She imagined opening the door and finding Christopher there instead, his smile inviting, his naked body on display . . .

That was unlikely to happen until he recovered from his annoyance with her. Why couldn’t he just accept her word, and not try to ferret out things that were not of his concern? Her reasons for not returning to court were hardly sinister. What did he think she’d been doing? Bedding every man she’d met? That would be quite like him.

She pushed open the door to her small room and stared at the empty bed. It seemed that she was to sleep alone. With a grateful sigh, she stripped off her torn and bloodied boy’s clothing and let it fall to the floor. Her cheek still stung and she gently touched the parallel claw marks. Perhaps she should send her apologies to Lady Anne and wait until her face healed before returning. But would Lady Anne assume she was hiding?

Rosalind blew out her candle. Christopher would never understand that she’d delayed her return because she was, frankly, a coward. She’d been too afraid to face him and give in to her desire for him. It had been easier to skulk at home and let Jasper do her work for her. And she’d been right to worry. A few days in Christopher’s company and she was already panting with lust, which would never do.

Chapter 9

C
hristopher bowed to King Henry and backed out of the royal bedchamber, George Boleyn at his side. They’d both been in attendance on the king as he dressed and readied himself for the day. The king seemed in fine spirits, his thoughts on the upcoming hunt and the beauty of the weather. There was no sign that the king had been turned yet, and for that Christopher was extremely grateful. He waited until the door shut before turning to his friend.

“Is something wrong, George? You have barely spoken a word to me all morning.”

George jerked his head toward the gardens, and Christopher followed him out. Even though he’d known this confrontation would be coming, he still disliked provoking it.

It was peaceful in the gardens; the blackbirds were singing and a light breeze ruffled the treetops. In the distance Christopher could see the indistinct outline of the apple orchards. Had Rhys succeeded in getting rid of the bodies of the slain Vampires without being detected? Christopher swallowed hard. He always worried that one day he’d find a member of his mother’s Vampire family at the other end of his sword and that he’d realize it too late.

“You have disappointed me, Christopher.”

Christopher brought his attention back to George, who was glaring at him. “In what way?”

“Your alliance with that Druid.”

“This alliance was hardly of my choosing. I was duped into fulfilling a prophecy, not only by the Druid gods but by my own uncle and the Vampire Council. And then the king betrothed us!”

“Yet you haven’t broken off the betrothal.”

Christopher forced himself to meet George’s dark gaze. “Because my uncle decided that the connection was too useful. He expects me to give him the information I glean from Lady Rosalind.”

“So you are playing a double game, then.”

“I suppose I am.” George didn’t need to know that Christopher had no intention of telling his uncle anything at all. He rallied his forces to attack. “And what of you, George? I thought we were friends. Why didn’t you tell me that you were a Vampire?”

“I wasn’t one when we first met.” George’s expression darkened. “I did it for Anne. It is no one else’s business, in any case, so why do you care? It’s not as though we present a threat to you. Your family is
allied
to the Vampires.”

“Which is why I thought you would have told me. Did you not think I would understand?”

“One cannot be too careful.” George walked away a few paces, his hand resting on his sword hilt. In the sunlight, the blue silk of his embroidered doublet shimmered like lake water. “Last night you protected the Vampire slayer and killed some of our own.”

“Would you have stood aside and watched them assault your betrothed?” Christopher held George’s gaze. It was never wise to show fear to a Vampire, friend or not. “I had no choice.”