The King's Courtesan (26 page)

“You’re no whore and you’re a most uncommon woman.

One can’t help what one is born to. Only what one makes of it. You have met adversity and become a fine lady, with a lightness of spirit that warms those around you.” His voice turned wistful, husky, and his fingers stroked her shoulders.

“I’ve seen you dancing on May Eve and imagined you a fairy. I’ve seen you wield a sword, best Mrs. Overton and land a pike as long as my arm. I see the life and beauty you’ve brought to this sad old house and I’m pleased you’re my wife and proud of you.”

She smiled, content. He hadn’t answered her question, but he said she made him pleased and proud. He said she made him wake up looking forward to the day. He wasn’t a glib courtier, or a shal ow flatterer. His words held meaning.

It would do for now.

HOPE N ICHOLS WAS A PATIENT WOMAN.
And a determined one. As autumn approached and the household began to prepare for winter she acknowledged to herself that much to her surprise, she’d stumbled upon the life she’d always wanted, when and where she’d least expected. Wel , almost. She was mistress of a beautiful home and had a handsome husband who stirred her blood with just a glance, but there was stil the smal matter of the king and her inevitable recal to court. And though she was deeply in love, she wasn’t sure what Robert felt for her.

Since the night he’d refused to talk about himself, there’d been a growing darkness about him, as if her questions had pul ed something dangerous and al -consuming to the surface.
He came to my rescue several times, though I
was often too hurt and angry to notice. He’s made me feel
welcome, valued, at home, but if he will not let me reach
him, how am I to help?

Responding to the need she saw in his eyes, she did her best to fil their time with happy moments. He moved into her room, and now every night she enjoyed him in their bed.

Their lovemaking was hot and fevered. She awoke in the mornings, her hair and bedclothes rumpled, her body ripe and sated, her limbs tangled with his. They talked of Cressly and the household, their likes and dislikes, shared their opinions on matters large and smal , and the more they learned about each other the closer they became. But they avoided any mention of her return to court, or anything connected to Robert’s past, and it left a gaping hole between them. One Hope had never noticed or minded with other men.

September was a busy month. Whooper swans, ducks and geese came to stay the winter, while swal ows and martins rose into the sky to start their journey south. As the first bright leaves began to tumble to the ground the larders were stocked, blankets were mended and on St. Matthew’s Day, Nottingham held its justly famous Goose Fair. After five days of shopping and gawking and celebration, Hope returned to Cressly with her husband and retired to her room, exhausted. The night was damp and though it was an extravagance, someone had left a roaring fire. She slipped into a bed gown and settled in with a glass of brandy to enjoy the blaze.

She grinned when she felt the mattress shift behind her, and gasped in delight when cool fingers slipped a lustrous pearl necklace around her neck.

“It was my mother’s,” he stated simply, but his breath was warm on the back of her neck. “She meant me to give it to my wife.” Those few simple words spoke volumes. She threw herself in his arms and tears stained her cheeks.

“It’s supposed to make you happy,” he said with a rueful smile.

“I know. I am. It’s lovely, Robert!” She hastily wiped away her tears on the sleeve of her gown.

“Good!” He stretched out beside her and tugged gently on her hair. “When you cry it’s hard to tel . I know you’re used to finer, but—”

“No. I’ve never received a finer gift. A gift that meant so much.”

He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t deny it. Her good nature and enthusiasm for life had melted much of his reserve, but guardedness remained a deeply ingrained habit. He knew he’d been distant lately, though he felt closer to her than anyone. The necklace was a way to show her how special she was.

“It frightens me to say this, Robert, but I have never been happier.”

It startled him to hear her echo his own thoughts. He knew what she meant exactly. “Neither have I. It’s like a lovely vision. One is afraid to reach for it or try to hold it, lest it shimmer and disappear.”

“Is it that fragile, do you think?”

He kissed her cheek, her nose, her eyelids. “Hope…I am going to have to leave Cressly, for a week, two at most.”

“What?” She lifted her head, searching his face, her dismay clear. “But what if…” What if the thing they refused to discuss should happen?
What if Charles sends for me?
If he meant to recal her to court they might hear from him anytime now. He would want the thing done before winter came and the roads became too difficult for travel. She would hear from him within the next month, or else not before the spring.

“I have important business in the north. It simply cannot wait.”

“I see. Might I inquire as to this important business?” Her voice held a definite touch of frost, but underneath she blinked back hot tears. He had promised her that if she was summoned to court he would stand with her. How could he do that if he wasn’t going to be there? Did al men forget their promises so soon?

“There is a man I must see in Farnley Wood.”

“I had hoped you would be here in case…”

“In case you are summoned. I know. I… It is a matter of grave importance, Hope. An obligation and a duty. One that has weighed heavily on me for a very long time. I would never go otherwise. I wil go by horseback and switch mounts on the way. We would have heard from Charles by now if he meant to summon you before spring but I shal do my best to be no more than a week. I
have
to go. I have no choice.”

“Why?”

He answered her with silence.

“Your eyes are always sad, even when you smile. You have a door in your mind and heart and it’s closed to me. Why won’t you let me in?”

“Because some things are best left buried. I’ve seen things, done things, Hope. Things that are best left unsaid. If you knew who I real y was you wouldn’t like me much. You might even be afraid.”

A shiver traveled up her back. The way he said it. His voice and eyes now so remote. But she was not a timid woman.

“Is it worse than what you know of me? Shal I tel you more?

My mother sold me, yes, but when I told you I wasn’t a good actress I lied. I stayed with a man whose touch made my skin crawl and made him believe I liked it. I didn’t have the delicacy or decency to die of shock or heartbreak. I locked my soul in a gilded cage and I laughed, I joked, I thrived!

What have you done that is so terrible? What is so much worse than that?”

“You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

“Can you not take a chance with me as I did with you, Robert? Can you not trust that I would understand? I like you better the
more
I know you. How can I trust you if I don’t know who you are?”

He sat up and reached for the bottle of brandy. It had to happen sooner or later. “I have kil ed men, Hope, and would do so again.”

“Of course you have. Along with thousands of other men. I mean no offense, Robert. But you seem rather squeamish for a soldier.”

He gave a short laugh and downed the fiery liquid in one swal ow. “I am not squeamish, love. Do you real y want to know what my business is in Farnley Wood?” Something in his tone of voice made her hesitate, suddenly unsure. She snatched the flagon from his hands and poured herself another drink before answering. “Yes. I real y want to know.”

“I go hunting.”

“Hunting? I don’t understand. How is that so—”

“I am hunting a man. I’ve discovered I can find him there.

And when I do I wil kil him. He is not the first. There have been others.” His voice was cold, devoid of emotion. He opened his fist, raising his fingers one at a time and she counted silently,
one…two…three.
“He wil be the fourth.

There was another, but he escaped me.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she stared at him, at a loss for words.

“You ask too many questions,” he said tiredly. “I have warned you repeatedly.” He moved to get up, withdrawing from the bed, the room, the conversation. Withdrawing from her.

She ral ied and reached out to grab him, her hand on his arm like a vise. “No, you don’t! You don’t get to give me that kind of answer and then get up and walk away. You must have a reason and I want to hear it. To kil in battle I understand. Even in a stupid duel. But to hunt a man and kil him, you make it sound like sport. I don’t believe it. What would that make you?”

“It makes me someone…something you don’t want to know, Hope. Something you should stay away from.” She released his arm and leaned back on her elbows. “But I can’t, can I? So you are going to have to tel me who and what you are.”

Robert felt so cold inside. As brittle and hol ow as the black ice that sometimes coated the river. It was as if the ugly things he kept at bay as he played at house with her had escaped their bonds, stronger than ever. He’d been battling to contain them ever since he’d received the latest missive from de Veres. It was time to act.

“I shouldn’t be here, love. I shouldn’t be with you,” he whispered. “It’s something I should never have al owed.” Yet he held her close, his face buried in her hair, and for a moment, she thought he might be crying. Her hand moved to where his neck and shoulder joined, soothing with a soft caress. They lay quiet and stil but for their breathing. It took him a while to speak.

“I am so damned tired of being alone with it, Hope, but I’ve no idea where to begin.”

“You don’t have to be alone. Just talk to me. Begin by tel ing me why.”

He sighed and rol ed over onto his back. “But that, my love, is the hardest part. I have never spoken of it to anyone.” Hope turned on her side, wrapping her body around him, waiting in silence for him to continue, fil ed with a powerful conviction as her hand rested on his chest.
I love this man.

I know this man. He is good and just and honorable. He
would never harm me and I have no fear of what he has to
say.

“There were five of them. Younger sons. Drunken soldiers who served the first King Charles. Royal cavaliers. They were bored with their country posting and needed money for liquor, women and cards. They came seeking treasure.

The treasure of Cressly. They heard talk of it in the vil age tavern, and knew from the locals my parents weren’t home.” He gave an angry laugh. “The treasure of Cressly. It’s what my father cal ed my sister. The treasure of Cressly was Caroline.”

“OH, DEAR G OD!”
she gasped in horror.

“I should have been at home to guard her. But it was Valentine’s. There was a girl in the vil age. I… When I got home, Caroline was al alone with them. One of the household guards was murdered, and the other had fled.

They were convinced she knew where the treasure was and were trying to beat it out of her. She was crying, begging them…hurt and terrified. I went to get my father’s sword.”

“That monstrous one with the wolf’s head?” Her fingers traced his col arbone and she bent to kiss his throat.

He nodded, his eyes bright with pain and unshed tears.

She knew in his mind he was back there. Determined to be with him, she pressed closer, resting her chin against his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his chest. “How old were you?” Her voice was gentle.

“Old enough to wield it. And big for my age. I bided my time, waiting an opportunity. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But one of them lost patience when she wouldn’t answer. They didn’t know she couldn’t. They…they tore at her clothes. She was kicking and screaming, and one of them decided to silence her with his knife. I charged him and kil ed him. I don’t think any of them were more surprised than I was. It gave me hope, for one sweet moment, and then…” His breath came in deep racking sighs. “Then she cal ed out to me, tel ing me to run, and one of them, Harris, threw her hard against the wal . God, Hope!

I heard her body breaking.”

“I’m so sorry, Robert,” she murmured, fighting back tears, holding him in a fierce hug.

He took several deep breaths, regaining control. When he spoke his voice was bleak. “I couldn’t move or breathe, but she managed to look at me. There was something in her eyes, as if she were pleading, but I was too stunned to understand. Then I ran, Hope. I stopped to look back when I reached the doorway, but her eyes were closed and I knew she was gone. Christ!” He hurled his empty glass against the wal . “My sister died before my eyes and I couldn’t save her. I was supposed to be there to protect her but when she needed me I ran. The last thing she saw was my back turned away.”

“No, Robert! It wasn’t your fault. You were a boy. A grown man could not have saved her from five armed soldiers.

You said yourself one of your household guard was dead and the others run away. You
tried
to help her. You even kil ed one!”

“I should have stayed.” It was barely a whisper.

“You would have died.”

“Then I should have.” His voice rose with anger. “She was my sister. My responsibility. I should have died with her, so at least she would not have died alone. I have done my best to make up for it since. They were cronies of the old king and it was soon clear that justice would never be done.

They were cal ed before the court in Westminster Hal where they claimed it was an accident during a stupid drunken ramble. One of them even laughed and suggested she be added to their bil .”

She could feel his body vibrating with anger and continued stroking his hair.

“I would have preferred to see them humiliated, hanged, but if there was to be retribution it was clear I needed to see to it myself. I wanted to. I lusted for it. I practiced. I grew. When the war came I joined the parliamentarian cause. It took me years to understand that Cromwel was no better, no worse, than the king. Men are men. No side lays claim to good or evil. War…kil ing…it’s a disguise that al ows the monster within us to slip loose and roam unfettered.”