The King's Courtesan (20 page)

“Aye. Eyes like a shark he had sometimes, before battle.

You could see right through ’em like they was made of ice. I swear he could scare a man to death. He didn’t need that monster sword for that.” He gave a short laugh and spit on the ground as if warding off evil. “But don’t you worry none, lass. He’s ferocious on the battlefield, but I never seen him abuse his men or a prisoner, and certainly never a woman or child. That’s a rare thing to say about men who’ve been long to war. A gentleman he is, and a damned fine commander. Some thought it were their duty to use up men like ammunition, but the captain, he did a job and did his best to get us out alive.”

She nodded solemnly.
That’s much as I imagined him the
first time I saw him.

The sergeant wiped his brow and settled on a stone bench in the shade. It was hot for early June. He reached for the jug and helped himself. “Do you know, my lady? You’re the first person I can recal ever making him laugh or smile. A real smile anyway. Not one of those cold lifeless ones that freeze you to your bones.”

She was pleased to hear it. His smiles and laughter were quick and fleeting, except for the bel y laugh when she told him of Orange Mol . She’d learned more about the captain in an hour with Mr. Oakes than she had over the past month, and she pressed ahead, taking advantage of his talkative mood.

“You say he’s good at taking care of people…”

“Oh, aye,” Oakes offered before she could finish. “Scarred footmen, one-eyed stable boys and short-fingered…wel , whatever I am. Most of the men you see here served under him, ma’am. After the war ended there was little employment and too many men looking for work. Many of us never got paid our back wages, and many turned to crime or ended in debtor’s prison…or starved. Finding work is hard enough if you’re able-bodied and handsome, almost impossible for fel ows like Jemmy and me. The captain finds work for any of his men that need it. He always takes care of his own.”

“Ah! That explains a great deal. I wondered about that, Sergeant. I was beginning to think you were al a great clumsy lot.”

They both broke into laughter.

“You’re good for him, lass. You’ve sparked his interest and that’s a rare thing indeed. He’s not easy to get to know, but I warrant it’s wel worth the effort.”

“I’l keep that in mind, Sergeant, but surely he’s had other…

interests…before me.”

“Ah! Wel , there was the Walters woman. Very protective of her, he was. He served her father a space during the war.

He admired her, I think, and felt it his duty to care of her, but she never made him laugh, and he never looked at her the way he does at you.”

Hope blushed and looked at her toes. “He’s a very handsome man, though, Sergeant. Surely there have been others.”

“Ach!” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Soldiers have needs just like other men, and some of them even have more than one wife.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “The captain, wel , there’s been a widow or three, and more than a few barmaids eager to warm him at night. But he’s never been one to play at romance. Many a fine lady has tried and failed. I’ve never seen him in love, though he liked Lady Rivers. For my money, he’s been married to that cold dark bitch cal ed war. You’re the first he’s ever brought to Cressly. It was a great surprise to al of us to see you married.”

“Believe me, Sergeant, it was as great a surprise to me as it was to you.”

ROBERT WALKED THROUGH THE HOUSE in stunned amazement. The wal s were hung with botanical watercolors, beautiful landscapes and exotic paintings of Eastern cities. Vibrant colored rugs adorned wal s and tables, and some were laid on the burnished floors. A chaotic mix of Flemish and Brussels tapestries told stories from history, legend and myth. He stopped in front of one that covered a wal in the library, depicting a group of colorful y clad astrologers standing on a balcony as they trained a telescope on a black-and-silver sky. He recognized many of the scenes from his childhood. He’d forgotten he had them packed away. Her decoration had no coherence as to style or subject. She had clearly chosen for cheerfulness, warmth and what was pleasing to the eye.

It was Cressly as he had never imagined it. Relaxing, inviting, comfortable and bright. He was astonished by what she’d accomplished in just a few short weeks.
She’s taken
my empty house and made it her own.
The thought didn’t bother him. Indeed it made him smile, until he saw the masses of flowers in the dining room.
Caroline’s flowers. I
asked her but one thing!
His eye was caught by the gleam of silverware set on a sideboard. There were beautiful y wrought candles, an engraved plate and bowl and a stack of linen napkins, al of them marked with the initials
H.M
.

AFTER S ERGEANT O AKES LEFT HER, Hope stretched out with the half-emptied jug on a velvet carpet of lush green grass. The sun kissed her face and the delight ful chatter from the laughing fountain added the final enchantment to a lovely day. 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?” She jolted upright in surprise, smacking her head on the edge of the fountain, biting her tongue and seeing stars.

Curse the man!
“I am enjoying the sunshine, you bloody fool! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. When did you get back?” Any pleasure at seeing him home was waylaid by his angry tone and the throbbing pain to 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, madam?”

“You said to do as I pleased. You said this was my home, too. While I am here I shal live like it is.” Her voice was defiant, but she was bewildered. She thought he would appreciate al the work they had done. She had thought that he’d be pleased. She’d fixed a fountain and picked a few flowers. What on earth was wrong with him?

“I gave you the house, woman. Al that I asked was you leave the gardens alone. You and your lover cannot just walk in and lay claim to al that you please!”

“My lover? You mean the king?”

“Yes, I mean the king.” He took note of her bared feet and tousled hair. Despite his annoyance his mind was flooded with images of pebbled nipples and snowy thighs and his body tightened. He flung a napkin at her feet. “Sel them, store them, or give them away, but do not use His Majesty as initials to adorn my house.”

She snatched the napkin and stuffed it in her pocket. “The initials are for Hope Mathews!” Her lips were parted in anger and her eyes flashed a chal enge.

“Wel …you are Hope Nichols now, are you not?” he responded after a moment’s awkward silence.

She detected a faint red stain on his cheeks. Could it be jealousy? Embarrassment? When some men were angry their lips paled and thinned, but his looked hard and ful .

“Your point is taken, Captain. You needn’t belabor it. I wil remove the offending napkins so they trouble you no more.” He cleared his throat. “You can always go to Nottingham and order up some new ones.”

“The king is no longer my lover,” she said, ignoring his words and offering her hand so he might pul her to her feet.

“Eh? What?”

“You cal ed 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, I don’t entertain two men at once, Captain. He betrayed me. As far as I am concerned our arrangement is at an end. It ended the first day of May.

Whatever comes of this, I wil never trust him or be with him again.”

“But you said the other evening when I asked you…that if he sent for you you’d go.” He pul ed her easily to her feet. The feel of her dainty hands in his sent an aching to his groin.

Her hand, her foot, her every look inflamed him.

“I said I would
have
to go. He is the king. I can’t refuse his summons. Neither could you when he cal ed you. But I wil never be with him again.” She removed her hands from his and brushed off her skirts, deciding she was stil angry. “If you’l excuse me now, I’l be on my way before I sul y your precious gardens. They are meant to bring a place to life, to be a joy and celebration. You are letting them die through your neglect. It almost seems you want to keep this lovely place a tomb. Be sure to thank the servants for al their hard work. They did miracles here to please you and the least you can do is notice. Oh. And welcome home.”

WELCOME HOME?
It was a sad welcome when the chit avoided him and had returned to eating dinner in her room.

It was al because of the blasted gardens. Was a man a monster for expecting a promise to be kept? If it meant so bloody much to her she should state her case rather than sulk in her room. 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 had been her passion as she’d grown. Al who lived at Cressly had recognized them as hers.
Hope
would change them and claim them and make them her own and a last part of Caroline might slip away.

He couldn’t bring his sister back, but he owed her justice, and until she had that, the gardens would remain as they were.

Hope loved her flowers, too, though. Perhaps there was something he could do to assuage her. She wouldn’t be happy unless she had something to grow. Doubtless a gift of bushes and a wheelbarrow would please her more than jewels. He grinned at the thought.

On his third day back he spied her sitting by the backwater feeding the swans. He was on the north lawn about to start sword practice. She was wearing boys’ breeches and her hair was unbound. She took turns, flicking crumbs out to the stately birds, and then tossing some to a daring col ection of song-thrushes and wrens that tiptoed in with sideways glances, then swooped off, flittering away like winged bandits, proudly bearing their prize.

“How is she fitting in, Oakes?” he asked of his companion.

“She didn’t cause too much trouble while I was away?”

“No indeed, Captain. The household is quite taken with her in truth. Even Maggie has warmed to her considerably. It’s a happier house with her in it. She’s made it bright and warm and the staff are cheered.”

“Do they know who she is?”

“Them that do don’t care, my lord. A pretty woman might catch a king, but only a kind one can tame wild birds to her hand. She makes them feel important and valued. She makes the house feel like a home.”

“Mmm. They’d be wise not to get too attached.”

“And you, Captain?”

“Oh, the same goes for me, Sergeant. Only more so.” He whirled about and the sergeant barely had time to block his blade.

“Is that why you don’t sup with her, Captain? And why she stays in her room since you’ve been back? You don’t want to grow too attached?”

“Damn!” Robert hissed as the sergeant’s sword reached under his guard, slicing his shirt and nicking his skin. He hadn’t anticipated that question. He drove the sergeant back with a series of thrusts and feints, careful to keep his focus. “No, Oakes. She sulks in her rooms because she’s annoyed that I’ve forbid her the gardens.” The contest had grown interesting, no longer routine, and each circled the other with a predatory gleam in his eye.

“Why on God’s green earth would you do such a thing, my lord? Surely you don’t wish to drive her away.”

“No, Sergeant. I just want to keep a smal part of Cressly sacrosanct…for reasons that are no concern of yours.” His voice was calm, unruffled, and his eyes never left the sergeant’s.

“You’re not very good with people, are you, sir?” The sergeant slid forward, attempting to seize an opening, but his sword was caught by Robert’s
main-gauche,
a left-hand weapon used to disarm and parry, and flung away.

“But you’re a hel of a warrior,” he added with a rueful grin.

Robert smiled and bowed. “As are you, sir. Shal we try it again?”

THE DISTANT CLANG AND CLASH of metal battering metal invaded Hope’s peaceful morning and chased al of her winged friends away. Wasn’t it enough he’d chased her from her sanctuary without explanation or reason? It was not the homecoming she’d anticipated. He had seemed nice, friendly, even likeable before he left. She had missed him. Looked forward to his return. But once again it seemed she had imagined things that weren’t there. He was as gruff on his return as he’d ever been. It was as if the thaw between them had never occurred. At least she’d won over the servants and made the house livable in his absence. Some things had improved.

Despite her annoyance, she stopped on the terrace to watch them train. She’d be a liar to say she had no appreciation for a fine male form, and her husband had a fascinating one. She’d always found a tal , rugged, masculine body appealing, and it wasn’t something one saw every day at court. And the way he moved! It was hard for her to take her eyes off him. Years of fighting and practice had hardened and honed him, but he moved with the same fluid ease that had so captured her in London. He reminded her of one of the great cats she’d seen at the tower.

Some of the ladies at court practiced at swordplay for amusement and exercise, and because it seemed to excite a certain species of man. It was something she’d always wanted to learn.
I wonder if he’d teach me?
She imagined it was her standing toe-to-toe with him, eyes intent, joined with his in a thril ing chal enge, her movements matching his as they danced back and forth, anticipating, responding, thrusting, parrying, beaded with perspiration, aching…. As his supple body powered each twist and thrust she felt herself grow warmer. His half-opened shirt clung to his body and an errant strand of hair had escaped its queue.

She watched in fascination, her breath quickening and her lips parted as if preparing to receive a kiss—

Damn the man! Even as he banished her from his precious garden she’d been dreaming about his mouth, for God’s sake! It was her own fault for seducing him during the storm. In setting out to entrance and capture she had been caught herself. With a snort of annoyance she turned her back on him and went inside.