Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles (22 page)

Read Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles Online

Authors: Kate Pearce

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles
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Verity smiled. “I don’t want to worry him.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows. “You truly wish to be a slayer like your cousin Rosalind? Do you think that will make Rhys love you?”
“I can never be Rosalind.”
Olivia sighed. “And neither can I.”
They gazed at each other and then Olivia looked away. “Sometimes males can be such fools.”
Verity thought of Rhys’s surly reaction to her explanation about Lughnasadh and nodded. “Indeed they can.”
“When do you wish to meet with me and train?”
Verity paused at the doorway of the chamber. “Perhaps when the queen is resting in the afternoon? We can meet at the old bathhouse down by the stable.”
Olivia smiled. “I can find you anywhere. I still have your blood, remember?”
“But that was a week ago. I thought the effects didn’t last.”
“You are a Druid and a Llewellyn.” Olivia licked her lips. “Your blood was extremely powerful.”
“So Elias said.” Verity grimaced. “I’m beginning to feel like a bottle of the king’s finest wine.”
Olivia actually smiled as she passed Verity. “I will meet you tomorrow afternoon while the queen sleeps.”
“Indeed.” Verity waited for a while, until Olivia was well away from her, and then she too made her way back to the queen’s main receiving room and joined the throng of ladies. Another thought struck her as she settled down to listen to the melodic voice of the queen’s chaplain.
She had a terrible sense that things were rapidly moving out of her control. Verity closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to Saint Jude. There was nothing else she could think of to do.
Chapter 14
 
“R
hys,I don’t think you should be doing this.” Rhys ignored Verity’s quiet plea and continued to check his hunting gear and load the extra weapons onto Artio’s saddle. His shoulder hurt like the devil. His teeth ached from clenching them so hard against the insidious pain and from restraining himself from shouting at Verity.
“Rhys . . .” She touched his arm and he went still, although he didn’t turn to look at her. He already knew she looked beautiful in a dark green gown with a trailing skirt and a matching hood, meant for riding.
“My lady, it is my duty to protect the king and queen. If the queen takes the foolish notion into her head that she wishes to observe the hunt, then I must go with her.”
“Verily, Rhys, it is
my
duty, not yours,” Verity said steadily. “I am going on the hunt, as are Elias and Olivia. There is no need for you to come.”
He pulled away from her then. “No need? Are you suggesting that the three of you can do without me?”
She met his gaze without flinching. “Yes, I am.” She sighed. “Please, Rhys; your shoulder is not strong enough to use a bow or a crossbow properly.”
As if she needed to tell him that. He knew it and hated it. “I’m not intending to hunt. I’ll leave that to you and the Vampires. I’m only going to protect the queen.”
“As are we all.” She cupped his cheek. “Is there anything I can say that will dissuade you from accompanying the hunt?”
He gazed into her blue eyes and for a moment he forgot the pain in his shoulder as his body yearned toward hers. “Take me to your bed. That might distract me for a while. But I forget—you offer yourself only on certain nights, don’t you? And it is a long while before Samhain.”
She snatched back her hand and tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist. “There is no need for this show of temper, my lady. I speak only the truth.”
Pain flashed in her eyes, and he hesitated for a moment before kissing her gloved palm and letting her go. He turned back to his horse before he could take her into his arms and kiss her. She continued to watch him as he buckled his spare quiver of arrows securely onto the right side of his saddle. He hoped he wouldn’t have to shoot anything, for Verity was right: His arm was not strong enough. At the same time, there was excitement stirring in his tainted blood. He felt the increasing need to hunt, like a dark sickness invading his mind. It was worse at night when the voice invaded his dreams and he saw himself turning on his own kind and mindlessly killing . . .
Verity shivered. “I sense the Vampire again. He is close today. I wonder if he will be hunting with the king.”
Rhys didn’t say anything. It was far more likely that she’d sensed the echo of the Vampire in his mind, and he wasn’t going to tell her about that unless he absolutely had to. She had enough to deal with without him revealing his growing sickness. Let her believe he was irritable because of his injured arm.
A hunting horn sounded in the stable yard, followed by a cacophony of excited barking from the royal greyhounds. Verity half turned away and Rhys glanced over his shoulder.
“Do you wish me to help you onto your horse?”
Verity picked up her skirts. “No, I can manage by myself, Sir Rhys. Mayhap I will see you later.”
He nodded and waited until she left the stall before inwardly cursing. Of course he didn’t want to ride with the hunt, but the more everyone insisted he needed to stay behind, the angrier it made him. He was the premier Vampire slayer in the kingdom. It was his duty to defend the Tudors from their foes and nothing that Verity, Elias, or Olivia could say would change his mind.
With an impatient whinny, Artio nudged his hip and Rhys contemplated mounting up. Once he was astride he would be fairly safe, for he had the skill to control the horse with his knees and heels. He reached his hand up to the pommel, which seemed as high as a mountain. His leather jerkin suddenly felt as if it weighed a ton and he fought an impulse to rip it off.
“May I help you, Sir Rhys?”
He turned to see Elias in the doorway, also dressed for hunting. Outside, the horns blared again and there was the sound of general movement and shouting.
“Did Lady Verity send you to aid me?”
“I haven’t seen her.” He studied Rhys. “I asked because I assumed your shoulder might be paining you.” He glanced back along the central passageway outside the stalls. “If you lead your horse out here, I can have you up in the saddle in but a moment.”
Rhys grabbed hold of Artio’s bridle. “I don’t need your help. I’ve been getting up on my horse unaided since I was three years old.”
“But not wounded.”
He glared at Elias. “I am perfectly well. Now will you leave me in peace?”
Elias bowed. “Of course.”
Rhys led Artio out into the almost deserted stable yard and headed for the mounting block. After a quick look around, he set his foot in the heavy stirrup and managed to heave himself into the saddle. Sweat broke out on his brow and he had to breathe deeply, but he was up without help and ready to go. He gathered the reins in his right hand and clicked to Artio. As long as he stayed in the saddle, he would be perfectly fine. He could only hope to God that was all that would be required of him.
 
 
Verity leaned forward in the saddle and allowed herself to enjoy the rocking motion as the mare changed her gait and picked up speed. It was a beautiful day for hunting, if one cared for such a sport. She would rather hunt Vampires than defenseless animals, but even she was enjoying the exhilaration of this chase.
Ahead of her, the horn sounded and the hounds cried out with new purpose, their excited yelps echoing through the protected forest. Verity eased up as she saw Elias appear to her left. The Vampire sat a horse exceedingly well, but then, he’d probably had plenty of practice. He came up alongside her, his face uncharacteristically grim beneath the feathered brim of his blue velvet cap.
“Is Rhys all right?” Verity asked.
“I haven’t seen him since he refused my offer of help in the stables. He is behaving quite unlike himself and is as stubborn as most humans of my acquaintance.”
“I wish I could have persuaded him to stay behind.” Verity remembered Rhys’s crude offer and felt heat rising in her cheeks. For a moment she’d been tempted and had imagined him lying in her bed while she tenderly made love to him . . . But she’d sensed something in his demeanor that had prevented her—a hardness of features and a touch of anger in his eyes that had reminded her of her dead husband’s selfish lust. She shook the thought away and turned to find Elias watching her with a small smile on his face.
“I’m sure you could have persuaded him, my lady. He is, after all, enamored of you.”
“He is enamored of Rosalind.”
“Who is married.”
“Which does not seem to make the smallest difference to the way Rhys feels about her,” Verity said lightly.
“I think you care for him, though.”
“Which also makes no difference.” Verity held Elias’s speculative gaze. “Shall we talk about something else?”
“If you wish, but I pray you consider my words. You might be the only person who is capable of making Sir Rhys conserve his strength. We both know that, even if he doesn’t.”
“He knows something is terribly wrong. He’s no fool.”
“Far from it. Has your healer met with any success yet in treating the Vampire bite?”
“Unfortunately not. Have you succeeded in confronting this Janus yet?”
“No.” Elias bent to readjust his stirrup. “We have to find out something soon. Time is running out for both the queen and Sir Rhys.”
With that, he nodded to Rosalind and rode ahead of her, his white horse and blue-gray hunting jacket the perfect foil for his good looks. Verity looked around the wooded copse she was riding through. The hunt was more spread out now, waiting for the hounds to catch a new scent and speed off in another direction. On her right, a lady rode by with her merlin strapped to her gloved wrist, the bells on the bird’s jesses jingling sweetly.
Verity glanced up at the blinding sun. Elias was one of the very few Vampires who could withstand full daylight. Olivia was due to join them later in the afternoon with the rest of the queen’s ladies who had chosen not to ride.
Verity squinted harder and finally spotted Rhys just entering the glade. She didn’t wait for him to catch up, unwilling to face his ire at being watched over. From what she could see, he was coping well. She ducked her head to avoid the low branches of an oak tree and heard the horns calling again. As she entered the flatter terrain of a grassy field, she shortened her reins and her mare responded with a burst of speed that took her away from Rhys and toward the center of the hunt.
 
 
By the time Rhys reached the queen, Verity had already dismounted and settled her horse with the stable hands in the shadows by the stream. The royal falconer had set up a temporary mews for the king’s birds and rows of hooded hawks shifted back and forth on their makeshift perches. Despite the shade it was still quite hot. Verity gazed longingly at the rippling water. She would love to paddle her feet.
To amuse the queen, the king had spared no expense in making the glade into a luxurious, comfortable place for his wife to rest. Expensive rugs covered the grass and tents had been pitched to protect the revelers from the sun. The odor of cooking meat permeated the air and ale was plentiful and available to all from the barrels lined up on the tables.
The queen was ensconced in the largest enclosure, seated on a pile of cushions and surrounded by her ladies. She’d been brought to the site in a slow-moving wagon that had taken the smoothest route available. Where necessary the queen had been carried in her chair by four men.
Verity noticed Olivia attending the queen and nodded at her. Olivia didn’t respond but Verity knew she had been seen. It had been over a week since she and Olivia had started to train together, and Verity could still feel the ache in her arms from where Olivia had bested her the day before. But at least she was improving; even Olivia acknowledged it, and she was far harder to please than Rhys had ever been.
Verity sipped at her wine and watched out of the corner of her eye as Rhys arrived and headed toward the makeshift stables. As if by accident, Elias appeared alongside him and without any visible motion used his Vampire strength to help Rhys dismount. When Rhys swayed on his feet, Verity resisted an urge to run to his side. God’s teeth, she was sick with worry for him.
After a while, she found an excuse to approach him. He stood a little way off from the crowds, leaning against a tree, his face a disdainful mask that would’ve done Elias credit. Unlike most of the courtiers, he wore practical hunting gear of leather and soft buckskin that made him look far more masculine.
She proffered a cup of ale. “I brought you this. You must be parched.”
He accepted it with a gruff word of thanks and brought it to his lips. She watched his throat work as he swallowed and wanted to kiss his skin right there beneath his ear and then lower, in the hollow of his shoulder.
His hazel gaze met hers and she couldn’t stop staring at him. Had he seen the desire in her eyes?
“Do you want to sit down?” she said hastily. “I could fetch you some food.”
His intense expression disappeared and was replaced by irritation. “I do not expect you to wait on me, my lady.”

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