Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (23 page)

His smile and his laughter warmed her, rare though they were, and ever since he’d left for London she’d been listening for the sound of his voice. It was warm and reassuring, yet seductive all the same.
I haven’t missed Charles...but I’ve missed him
.

She had lied to Sergeant Oakes. She feared Robert Nichols, but not in the way the sergeant might think. Her life, her future, her very survival had always hinged upon self-control but the captain stripped it from her with a touch. No man had ever affected her that way. It would be foolish to turn her back on hard-won lessons and let her fancies take a dangerous turn. If nothing else, her recent experience with Charles had reminded her of that. And yet...

The captain was no womanizer using honeyed words to seduce. He was no swaggering bully who sought to control her monies or person. He had ceded her much given the circumstances, not least the management of his home and the use of what had been for him a very private room.

It was more respect than she’d received from any man. What might have been between them if her past had been different and they had met in some other way? Yet fate
had
brought them together
. I am married to this man. What if he is the one, if there is such a thing?
What if she lost him because she was too wary to take a chance and see?

As white puffs of cloud drifted overhead she dared think it.
Maybe, by some strange May Day magic, I have finally found my home. Maybe I have found my
—

“What in God’s name are you doing out here?”

Hope jolted upright in surprise, smacking her head on the edge of the fountain, biting her tongue and seeing stars.
Curse the man!
“I
was
enjoying the sunshine. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. When did you get back?” Her pleasure at seeing him was tempered by his accusatory tone and the throbbing pain to the back of her head.

He winced in sympathy and knelt beside her on the grass, reaching to feel the back of her head. “Just now. And just in time to stop you from laying claim to the gardens. Must you meddle with everything?”

She shrugged him away, refusing his aid. “You said to do as I pleased. You said that this was my home, too.” She was bewildered and hurt and her joy at his return was fast slipping away. She thought he would appreciate all the work they had done. She had thought that he’d be happy. She’d fixed a fountain and picked a few flowers. What on earth was wrong with him?

He settled his long frame down in the grass beside her and reached for the wine jug but she hugged it to her bosom. After a brief tug of war he let go of it with a sigh. “I did, and I meant it, but I asked that you leave the gardens alone. You and your lover cannot just walk in and lay claim to all that you please.”

“My lover? You mean the king?”she asked, rubbing her head.

He tossed the letter at her feet, taking note of her bare toes when it landed beside them. They peeped from beneath her petticoat. It was surprisingly arousing....

“Robert?”

“Eh? What? Yes. Yes, of course I mean the king. Can you not keep your
billet doux
in your rooms, or at least be more discrete? Must you leave them on the mantel for everyone to see?”

She snatched the letter and turned it over. Then dropped it with a sigh. “Another one?”

“How many have there been?”

“Two. Including this one.”

His heart sank. Of course the king would write her. Charles hadn’t gone to such elaborate lengths to put her aside. He took a deep breath, releasing it as a sigh. Whatever half-formed thoughts about her he might have been entertaining, it seemed he’d run out of time. “When will you be leaving?”

“Leaving? Why would I leave? Do you wish me to go?”

Her response took him by surprise. It would be so simple to say yes. She could go back to her lover. He could take care of what he needed to and go back to some engagement in Europe. His servants would be settled, the king would be happy, and he could hold onto what was left of his pride.

“You are his mistress are you not?” he responded after a moment’s awkward silence. “How have you answered him? What did you say?”

She detected a faint red stain on his cheeks. Could it be jealousy? “I haven’t answered him. I threw his last letter in the fire unread and I’ll do the same with this one, too. I’ve yet to see it. It must have come today.

He cleared his throat. Relieved.

“You haven’t answered my question, Robert. Is it really so difficult? Do you wish me to go?”

How could she ask that? How could it not be difficult? To maintain a chaste friendship while he ached to have her, or to take her in lust without losing his heart. He didn’t know if either thing was possible, or if either was better than seeing her gone.

She took his silence for an answer. “If you’ll excuse me I fear I’ve been too long in the sun. I’ll be on my way before I sully your precious gardens. I apologize for my... meddling
.
”

She turned away from him, gathering her bonnet and stockings, preparing to leave, but not before adding, “Gardens are meant to bring a place to life, to be a joy and celebration. You are letting them die through your neglect. If you don’t want anyone else to care for them at least you should. It almost seems you want to keep this lovely place a tomb. Be sure to thank the servants for all their hard work. They did miracles here to please you and the least you can do is notice. Oh.... And welcome home.”

“Hope, wait!” He reached for her, catching her sleeve. The gardens had always been Caroline’s domain. She’d loved them since she’d first learned how to walk. She’d toddled about on stubbly legs, laughing and chasing butterflies and they’d been her passion as she’d grown.
And how long ago was that?
Would she even care?
He admitted to himself that it was jealousy that ruled him and he’d forgotten the gardens the moment he saw Hope. She made him forget so many things. His promises, his guilt...his duty. He’d even left his business with Harris in de Veres’ hands so he might return to her side.

“Stay...please.” His voice was hoarse. The feel of her dainty hand in his sent an aching to his groin.

She stopped and turned, looking first at his hand on her wrist, and then at him.

“This is not how I meant to greet you. I thought of you often while I was gone. It’s the first time I can remember being eager to come home. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with me.” He gave a little tug and she took a step toward him. He gave another and then took her by the waist and drew her down into his arms.

Despite a thrill of excitement, she pushed against his shoulders deciding she was still angry. He had seemed, nice, friendly, even likeable before he left. She had missed him and eagerly awaited his return. But his accusatory greeting made her wonder if she wasn’t confusing friendliness and lust, and imagining another kind of interest that just wasn’t there. Still, she didn’t struggle hard, it would have been pointless. He had her anchored tightly by his arm.

“Won’t you sit with me a while, elf? His breath was warm against the back of her neck, his voice cajoling, and she shivered despite the late day heat.

“I don’t know. My head is hurting and I bit my tongue.”

“I am very sorry. That was my fault. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He caressed the back of her head with gentle fingers and this time she didn’t shrug them away.

“I brought you a gift...from London,” he offered tentatively.

She sighed, disappointed. He was just like any other man. Offering abuse and insult and then some pretty bauble to make it all right.

“It’s just a small thing, really.” He fished around in his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a packet carefully wrapped in linen and placed it in her lap.

She opened it to find two gifts inside. The first was a book with an inscription from the king’s gardener, entrusting her with a first look at his new work in progress,
The English Vineyard Vindicated.
The second
,
stored in damp peat moss wrapped in cloth and paper, was a collection of grape cuttings of the sort he described.

She didn’t say a word as she gathered the cuttings and set them aside.

“It is foolish, I know,” he said, breaking the silence. “But you spoke of the man with admiration and you seem to like grow—”

Hope took his face between her palms and kissed him. He moaned low in his throat as he enfolded her in his arms, gathering her in his lap. She shifted her weight as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers through his hair, making him throb with blissful pain.

“Thank you, Robert,” she murmured, soft against his lips. She nuzzled his throat, his jaw, his cheek. “It’s a wonderful gift.” Her voice was warm, carried with her breath, humming in his ear. She nibbled his lobe, making him groan, and then her tongue swirled hot in his ear.

A sharp bolt of desire stabbed through his vitals and he shifted her on to her back, covering her body with his own. His fingers bracketed her mouth and he touched his lips to hers. Softly, gently, as it should have been the first time they kissed. He began a slow exploration, stroking her with lips and tongue, dragging his full firm mouth back and forth across hers.

It was Hope who finally broke the spell. Pulling away with a shaky laugh she laid her head against his shoulder and hugged him close. He gathered her tight in his arms and pulled her back against his chest.

“Now that was more like what I’d hoped for and imagined.” His voice was husky with barely suppressed need. “I take it that you liked it? The gift, I mean.”

“Yes. I liked it. It was very thoughtful.” More so than she could say. It meant he cared enough to have paid attention, to listen and to notice, to wonder what might please. “But why give me this and refuse me the garden?”

He sighed unhappily. “I know it makes no sense. It seems so foolish now...It’s hard for me to speak of.”

“You didn’t want me intruding in what you count a private place.”

“Yes…. No…. It’s not you. I...this garden was my sister’s. Caroline’s. No one has touched it in years. It was a special place to her. We...” he gave a painful sigh. “I have just preferred to leave it untouched. I know it makes no sense but it feels as though as long as it stays unchanged...some small part of her remains.”

Hope looked at him, surprised. She’d come to accept that certain topics were closed to her. She knew he was an intensely private man. “The girl in the miniature?” she asked carefully.

“Yes. She died several years ago.”

“It is I who should apologize, then. I was over-enthusiastic. It’s a bad habit of mine. You did mention something about the gardens but I got carried away.”

“No! Don’t apologize. This is your home Your enthusiasm has brought light and cheer to the place. What you’ve done in a few short weeks is remarkable. You’ve brought it back to life. But that’s not what it was really.... It wasn’t...” He made a helpless gesture and started again. “There are the orchards, and the old conservatory, though it’s much run-down. I’ve been thinking you might occupy yourself with those.” He made a fluid motion with his hands and fingers. “Perhaps you can conjure pineapples.”

She grinned. “Perhaps I can.”

“If you don’t go back to London, that is. It wasn’t about the garden, Hope. I was jealous.”

“He is not my lover.”

“Eh? What?”

“You called him my lover. He is not. If he were, I would never have…” She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Whatever you may think of me, Robert, I don’t entertain two men at once. He betrayed me. As far as I am concerned our arrangement is at an end. It ended the first day of May.”

“But when I asked you…you said that if he sent for you, you’d go.”

“I said I would
have
to go. He is the king. I can’t refuse his summons. Neither could you when he called you. But I will never be with him again.”

Robert helped her to her feet and handed her the book and cuttings. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and gently brushed her cheek with his knuckles.”So you
will
stay?” he whispered as his lips grazed her temple.

Rose was calling, her voice high-pitched and uneven. The girl was still terrified of walking the east hall alone. It must be almost time for dinner.

Hope raised on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek. “I am certainly giving it serious thought.”

He answered her with a smile.

As Robert prepared for sword practice on the north lawn the next morning, he spied Hope sitting by the backwater with her hair unbound feeding the swans. He had enjoyed their conversation last night over dinner. She had a ready wit and was quick with a quip or a smile. They had strolled the halls after supper, admiring the tapestries and paintings and he told her how he’d loved to watch the sky as a child. She had blushed as they passed the billiard room and he had briefly considered inviting her to his bed. It would have been a mistake, he knew as he watched her now. One that would have cost him all the gains he’d made.

He needed to treat her as something other than courtesan or reluctant wife if they were really to start anew.
I need to treat her as a young woman who fascinates me as no other. One I intend to woo.

He took a practice swing with his sword, and then stopped and tilted his head to one side. She was standing on the bank now, right by the water’s edge, and damned if she wasn’t wearing breeches. She took turns flicking crumbs out to the stately birds and then tossing some to a daring collection of song-thrushes and wrens that tiptoed in with sideways glances, and then swooped off like winged bandits. As she bent and stretched, reached and threw, turned and twisted, the breeches hugged her splendid backside in a cunning display.

He whirled about so suddenly the sergeant barely had time to block his blade.

“Damn it, Captain, I thought I had you this time! What with you mooning over that pretty arr—er...lass.”