The King's Courtesan (28 page)

The silence dragged on for several moments before she became aware of it, stil caught up in the one shining memory from her childhood. It was then she noticed his hand had stil ed. Perhaps she oughtn’t have told him. Even the best of men were prickly about some things. “Robert?”

“And did you buy some new shoes? With the half crown he gave you?”

“No. My friends descended upon me before I was halfway home and we stuffed ourselves with meat pies and tarts. I hid what remained and— But how do you know about that?”

“I was there.” His voice sounded amazed. “I…be damned! I should have known you by those violet eyes. It was al I could see of you, other than bare feet and mud.”

“That was you?” She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Her hands traced his features and she regarded him with bemusement, but she could see it now.

The strong jaw, the smile that had so captivated her. “It
was
you! I should have known you by your smile. I so wanted to see your eyes. It was the same when I saw you standing with the king. I wanted to know what color they were. It seemed so important. Oh, Robert. How can this be? What does it mean? It was
you!
” Laughing and crying she covered his face in frantic kisses. She had been right al along. Here, beside her, was her own true love.

“It means you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” he said with a broad grin. “It seems I am, too. It means you’re mine. Beyond that I neither know nor care.” He loosed her gown, drawing back its folds so he might see her.

Skimming her length, he paused to cup her rose-tipped breasts, feeling the rise and fal of breath, the steady pulse of life, and letting it feed his hunger. His hands, cal oused and rough from years of swordplay, thril ed her with their gently rasping touch. His palm slid down, warming the soft swel of her hip, then pressed the downy thatch between her legs. She tossed her head, her body flushed, moving restlessly beneath him.

His lips claimed hers, lush and warm, then his tongue found hers and they thrust and swirled, fierce and heated. She savored the taste of him. She savored his strength and the feel of him, real, alive, with her, not some fantasy consigned to the past but a hot-blooded hard-muscled man, warm against her skin. She arched into his hand like a stroked cat, her body purring, and her hands roamed his sleek form, enjoying the play of taut muscle, marking every part of him. They spoke through sighs and moans, kissing wildly as they both scrambled frantical y to loosen his clothing, fingers brushing and working together until he sprang free.

“Christ. I want you, Hope. I need you. You light a fire in me.” Painful y engorged, he settled his arousal between her thighs. His lips bruised hers. His bristled jaw rasped her chin and the soft skin of her breasts. He ground against her, whispering endearments in a dance of hands and mouth, thrusting hips and sweet sensation, and then he took her, not as a courtier took his lover, but as a warrior claimed his woman, spreading her, lifting her, holding her, finding her slick heat and plunging inside. Stroking her with hands and tongue and pulsing organ, he lifted her legs above his shoulders and pumped and writhed, harder and harder in a frenzied passionate ride.

He took her higher and higher, approaching peaks of sensation she’d never felt before, and then, just at the brink of exquisite release, he slowed, almost stopped, his smoldering eyes watching hers. She almost cursed him.

She twisted and writhed, thrusting against him. Raging with wanting, she raked his shoulders and fisted her hands in his hair. “Do it, Robert. Now. Please.”

His teeth grazed her shoulder, his hands gripped her waist and he thrust inside her again and again. An incredible star-burst of white-hot pleasure spread from her center and rippled through her body in blissful waves. Her tight muscles squeezed and held him, owning him, claiming him, as she cried out his name and a slow, deep, beautiful eruption surged from within him, joining them both in a lovers’ embrace that was wild celebration and blissful comfort, homecoming and welcome, joy and release.

Spent, they lay in each other’s arms, hearts stil pounding.

“Dear God. I feel as if I have just visited heaven. Each time with you is such a wonder. It was incredible, you beautiful man!” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a ferocious hug.

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “I think you’re beautiful, too.”

“Can it be real? Am I dreaming?”

“If you’re dreaming than I am, too.” He nuzzled the tender skin beneath her ear.

“You real y told me about your sister?”

“Yes, love.” He felt a familiar pain and a part of him flinched, but it was not quite as sharp as he remembered.

“And it real y was you? In London?”

“Unless there was some other grubby shoeless urchin who rode with me that day. Ow! What did you pinch me for?”

“I was just checking,” she said with a happy grin. “Making
sure
you are real.”

“I believe the accepted practice is to pinch oneself,” he grumbled, settling her against his length.

They were both exhausted, mental y, physical y, emotional y, in every way a person could be, yet Hope fought to stop the languorous drift toward slumber. She was content where she was right now, safe in the arms of the man she loved, knowing they were meant to be and everything would be al right. Yet a part of her feared what might lie on the other side. What if this
was
a dream, and to sleep would be to wake?
What if he
…
what if
… A wave of fatigue pul ed her under, and a jumble of thoughts fol owed her down.

Her sleep was crowded with vivid dreams. She dreamt of Robert as a little boy, a toddler stil unsteady on his feet.

Laughing, ful of joy, he ran on chubby legs, green eyes flashing with excitement and delight. He chased a gold-covered leaf, chortling as he bent to pick it up and the wind plucked it from his fingers. A blond-haired girl ran with him, her dress tucked between her knees. The sky grew dark and stormy, tugging at their hair and clothes as though trying to capture them and carry them away. She shouted and shouted, her heart pinched with fear, but they couldn’t hear her and continued blithely on, into the storm.

She dreamt he rode toward her on a gold-caparisoned horse, the sun glinting off his sword and armor, hand outstretched, come to take her home, and then they were walking, hand in hand, laughing and talking companionably as a child danced in front of them, excited by discoveries of oddly shaped stones and colorful shel s. The last thing she dreamt was the sound of his voice, faint and fading.
I love
you, elf.
When she woke, she was alone.

A BRIEF MOMENT OF PANIC
overtook Hope and her hand flew to her chest. Her fingers touched the cool pebbled strands of her necklace and she breathed a sigh of relief. It
was
real. Al of it. Last night he had given her the kind of gift a husband gave a valued wife. Last night he had given her the gift of trust, confiding in her regarding his haunted past. And last night she had discovered that the man she had grown to love so quickly and completely was the same man she had dreamt of. The one who had saved her life and she had been so certain she would see again, so many Septembers ago.

She lay back in bed, kicking her heels in giddy delight, no longer worried he wasn’t beside her. He was a late sleeper and early riser, and often went off to practice just before dawn. It was a habit she meant to cure him of. He’d be back soon. Hungry for food, hungry for her, and she would give him lessons in the joys of spending a morning lazing in bed. She grinned and stretched, savoring the ache in her muscles, and then went to stand in front of the mirror now gracing the paneled wal .

Her fingers caressed the string of pearls that had once belonged to his mother, and her heart swel ed.
One day I
shall pass these to my daughter.
The simple necklace, what it represented, made the rest of her jewelry seem tawdry by comparison. She would sel it or give it away.

She wanted no gifts touching her skin unless they came from her husband. Turning in a slow circle she smiled in contentment to see where his lovemaking had marked her.

The slight imprint of impassioned fingers marked her upper arm and thighs. Here and there…reddened skin where unshaven jaw had rasped tender skin, and along her col arbone and the base of her throat another necklace where deep kisses had left their mark as if to say “This woman is mine.”

I have marked him, too. I’ll wager he’ll not practice
shirtless this morning with Oakes,
she thought with a mischievous grin, for she knew she’d marked him tooth and nail. If one had little appetite, food and sex both lost most, or al , their pleasure. But when you hungered, craved, she was learning, it could be sublime. She’d never hungered for a man the way she did for him. He had the power to make her forget herself completely and now she understood why.

He was her mate. The one man on earth meant for her.

She’d been given a brief glimpse of him years ago but it hadn’t yet been their time. Now it was.
He
was what she’d been missing al these years. What she’d needed, wanted, been waiting for. It made her be lieve in magic, as if she were a child again. And if finding him again wasn’t magic enough, what he did to her with his touch certainly was.
And
his heart? Have I marked that, too?
She sobered at the thought. He had shared a part of himself she knew he kept hidden from everyone, opened a door into his soul, and what she saw there made her weep.
I don’t want to be
alone with it,
he’d said. And now he wasn’t.

Rose interrupted her musings, entering the room surrounded by the delicious smel of coffee. She carried with her a note on a silver tray. “A messenger has brought this for you, my lady. Mrs. Overton says it looks important and I best bring it to you straight away.” Hope nodded absently. “Put it on my desk. I’l see to it later.

Have you seen the captain, Rose? I was hoping he’d join me for coffee.”

Rose looked at her in surprise. “Does he know that, my lady? Last I saw he was with Mr. Oakes and looked to be fixing for a ride.”

She felt a moment’s unease but brushed it aside. Things had changed between them last night. They had talked of his haunted past. They had discovered the connection that bound them to each other. It was stil hard to believe.
I
would have died that day if not for him. I am where I am
supposed to be and he is where he is meant to be.
He had said so himself. He said she was his, and he was a man who took care of his own…. Surely he wouldn’t leave her now to return to the same dark path he’d feared her knowing. He was going for a ride. As he did every morning.

Perhaps he would like some company.

“I think perhaps I’l join him, Rose.”

“You’l have to be quick, my lady. He looked to be leaving soon.”

“We’d best hurry, then. Fetch my riding coat and boots if you would. Quick as you can.” She picked up her brush off the dresser and her eyes were drawn to a flash of silver.

The forgotten note stil lay on the tray, sitting on her desk.

Anxiety seized her as if it were a fist, gripping her chest, clutching at her throat.”

“My Lady? Lady Nichols? Is something wrong?”

“No.” But her voice came out as a soft gasp. Charles had written her before and she’d disposed of his letters unread.

But they had borne his personal seal. This missive bore the royal seal. Her hand trembled as she waved the little maid away. She didn’t need to read it to know what it was. It was a summons from the king.

Robert was in the stables, talking to the sergeant as he waited for Jemmy to saddle his horse. He greeted her with a wink and a hug that normal y would have warmed her al over if she weren’t sick with fear.
It’s too soon!
It was al so fragile yet. So easily broken.

“You slept wel , I hope?”

“Yes, thank you. Very wel .” Mr. Oakes was watching her with a big grin and she found to her chagrin that she was stil able to blush. “I was wondering if I might speak to you a moment, in private, Robert.” She reminded herself everything would be al right. He’d given her his word.

“Certainly. But you’l have to make it quick, love. The morning’s wel begun and I need to be on my way in an hour.”

“On your way?” There was a sharp note of panic in her voice.

“Yes. As I discussed with you yesterday.” He looked over his shoulder at his gawking men, then placed a hand on the smal of her back and ushered her outside.

“But…I thought…I was certain you had changed your mind!”

“Whatever gave you that idea? I never said so. You eased my heart, love. I swear you are an angel. I dreamt of her last night and it made me smile. I feel years younger and a hundred pounds lighter, but I stil have my duty to perform.

The man must be dealt with. He’s a da—’

“What of your duty to me?” she snapped, handing him the message.

He looked at her careful y, noting her white face and shaking hands, and then he read the letter. His stomach lurched. It was just as he’d feared.
We have run out of time.

Sighing, he handed the parchment back to her. “So…it has come to pass. What do you wish to do?”

“What do
I
wish to do? What happened to
we?
I’ve told you what I want. I want you to come with me. I don’t understand.” Her voice sounded hurt, bewildered.

“I’ve explained to you why I can’t. Not right now, elf. Make your excuses and wait for my return.” He went to hug her, wanting to soothe her, but she shoved his chest and took two steps back, dismayed at this new betrayal.

“What happened to your promise? You said that if he summoned me you would come, to stand as my husband and bring me back home.”

“I know I did. I’m sorry, but I have made other promises, too.

If you can only wait for me to—”

“You mean to your dead sister, who has been gone nearly twenty years? Don’t blame it on her. You do her no honor.

She never asked it from you. ’Tis not a promise you made her but a vow you made to yourself! The sergeant told me once you take care of your own. I can see that
I
am not numbered among them.”