The King's Courtesan (30 page)

And so he waited, amazed they could be so complacent.

So certain of their invulnerability they never once raised their eyes to scan the room. When at last he did feel a gaze upon him it was the boy’s. The lad’s eyes met his directly, cool, assessing, and he returned the stare. The boy’s cheeks were gaunt, his eyes fil ed with shadows. They flicked to the sword and Robert lifted his fingers. When he looked back the lad had turned away.

He had waited long enough. He leaned over, clamping Harris’s shoulder in a viselike grip. “Excuse me, Colonel, but I was wondering if we might have a quiet word outside.” Harris’s grip was as strong as his own. He seized Robert’s wrist and threw himself back in the chair, toppling it, dropping the woman and freeing himself, shoving Robert back against the wal as he rose. The men, taken by surprise, watched in stunned silence before erupting into cheers, thinking it a drunken brawl and eager to see their leader break some bones. Holding Robert in a choke hold with only the back of his arm, Harris used his considerable strength to force him up the wal so only his toes touched the floor. “What dog is this come snapping at my table?

You’l lick my boots, cur. Or I’l slice you open from bel y to throat.”

Gripping the man’s forearm and using it for leverage, Robert lifted his legs and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him backward and sending him flying over the table, scattering food, drink, and dice and sending his sword sliding across the floor. Leaping up onto the table he unsheathed his own. “A man who mistakes wolf for dog is bound to come to a bad end. Don’t you think?” Harris grinned, spat out a tooth and then spat blood. “Wel , wel . Young Nichols, is it? I remember you. Al grown up, then? Last I saw you, you were running away as your little sister pled for mercy.”

“Aye. Her name is Caroline.” He jumped to the floor and kicked the sword toward him. “Get up.”

Harris reached for the blade and jumped to his feet. “Stil squeamish, then, are you, lad? It’s a nice gesture, though.” The rest of the men had stepped back, clearing a space, while the remaining townsfolk had run for the door, fleeing into the night.

“I just want to take my time with it, Colonel. Savor the moment after al these years.” He darted forward in a lightning move that left Harris cursing with an inch-wide gash from temple to jaw. “I think it’s more fun this way.” They were circling each other, eyes locked. Robert was a master swordsman, not a frightened child, and he could see the realization dawning in the other man’s eye. “She stil thinks of you. She sent me to say goodbye.” He lunged again and Harris gave a shriek of pain and rage as the giant blade pierced his left shoulder, cutting through muscle and tendon. Nerveless fingers opened and his sword clattered to the floor. Laughing and cursing at the same time, Harris pul ed himself up against a table and tried to staunch the flow of blood. “As you can see I am unable to wield a weapon. The duel is over. I’l tel you what, Nichols. Why don’t you say hel o to her for me? Kil him, lads.”

CURSING, SHOUTING, SCREAMS and breaking crockery were doubtless viewed as ominous signs to most people, but for Hope and the sergeant they were a godsend. Ever since Hope had decided to turn around and head to Yorkshire instead of London she had been afraid of her husband’s greeting, but after searching the deserted Farnley Woods, and the towns of Farnley, Gildersome and Leeds, she began to fear that something might have happened to him on the way. Both she and Mr. Oakes agreed that asking questions might do more harm than good, but that reduced them to wandering from tavern to tavern, inn to inn, hoping to find some trace of him. If Oakes viewed the sounds of battle as promising, then so did she.

“I expect we might find him inside, my lady. Perhaps you should wait here with some of the men.”

“I’ve seen my share of tavern brawls, Oakes. I am not some delicate flower.”

They stepped into a chaotic mess. Tables and chairs were overturned. A woman lay unconscious or dead under a table, at least three men lay dead on the floor, and three others were fighting a fourth, who was laying about him with a giant sword that sang as it cut through the air. Robert!

“Why, look, boys! ’Tis one of the king’s sluts herself come to cal .” The words were spoken by a massive bald-headed man covered in blood. She knew him instantly from Robert’s description. There was a momentary lul in the battle as the entire room turned to stare. She stared right back. As Robert looked at her, stunned, one of the men rushed him from behind. He raised a gauntleted fist without looking, smashing the man’s nose and dropping him like a stone.

Robert heard the snick of metal behind him and turned just in time to deflect the blade of a wicked-looking
main-gauche,
but he was too slow, catching the man in the thigh instead of through the heart.

“Get the woman, you fools,” Harris shouted, and his two remaining attackers rounded on her. Robert turned his back on the man who’d murdered Caroline and plunged his sword through the shoulder blades of one, while Oakes and one of his men did for another. Hope was safe in a corner, surrounded by five more of his men. At least she’d had the sense to bring them. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the colonel.

“Now…you die.”

“I’m not inclined to humor you, Captain.” Harris reached behind a wooden pil ar, snatching the skinny, battered youth by the hair and pul ing him close like a shield. Stil able to wield a knife, he held a razor-sharp blade to the lad’s jugular. “We’l be leaving now, Nichols, and with no interference or I’l slit the boy’s throat.”

“No, you won’t.” Robert’s voice sounded cold, disinterested. “He’s your son.”

Harris grinned and chuckled, shaking the boy’s head back and forth by the hair. “You think that wil stop me? His and forth by the hair. “You think that wil stop me? His mother’s a whore and him naught but a little bastard. I’ve plenty more where he came from.”

“Do you think it wil stop me?” Robert sounded curious, almost amused. He took a step forward, resting the tip of his sword over the boy’s heart. “Beyond this lies your lungs.

You took something from me. Why should I cavil at taking something from you?”

“Robert, no!”

“Listen to your bitch, Nichols. You’re scaring her.” Robert turned to look at her, the tip of his sword never leaving the boy’s chest. What Hope saw horrified her. This was what he’d warned her about. This savage, blood-covered, ferocious man with the snarling voice, sword outstretched and death in his eyes.

“Goddamn it, Oakes!” he snarled. “I’l have your head for bringing her here. Get her out. Now! Take her back to London and the king, where she belongs.” She stared at him in shock. “Robert, please. You can’t—”

“Leave. Now,” he growled. “You have no business here. Go and don’t come back.”

“THAT POOR CHILD!”

“You needn’t fear for him, my lady. The captain—”

“Wouldn’t hurt him. I know. You told me you’d never seen him harm an innocent and I believe you. But when we left he was holding him at sword point. And to have one’s own father use you as a shield. What kind of man does that?”

“The kind who needs kil ing, I expect, my lady. The captain wouldn’t go after a man for no reason.”

“No. He had reason enough, no doubt. I am sorry if I have dragged you into trouble with him, Oakes.”

“I’m a tough old badger, my lady. I can weather the storm.”

“I should not have ordered you to turn back, but we had a terrible argument before I left and I didn’t want him going after that man. I was very upset he would not leave it and come with me. At first it was hurt and anger, but the further we got the more convinced I became that he was on a path that would do him far more harm than good. I was a fool to think he needed rescuing. He is clearly a man who can care for himself and al I did was make a mess of things. I have never seen him so angry.”

“Neither have I. But the mess was made before we got there, my lady.”

“He is quite done with me now, I think.”

“Do you, ma’am? I think he was more angry you saw him like that, than he was with you.”

She nodded thoughtful y. “There’s a name for men who release something savage in battle. It’s said they glory in it.”

“Aye. A berserker, my lady. The captain, he is a fearsome man in battle. He’s good at staying alive and that means he’s good at kil ing. But it doesn’t control him. He controls it.”

“You told me that at times before battle he had eyes like a shark. You said they looked like ice. I saw that look tonight.” She shivered.

“Aye. I noted it, too. But no berserker stays his sword in the midst of battle or stops to see his lady safe. Remember that when you ask yourself what things he holds most dear, or what it is that rules him.”

Oakes patted her hand before leaving her to her thoughts, joining Jemmy on the box to ride musket, as the coach took her home to London.

She settled back against the cushions, stil haunted by the image of the bruised and hol ow-cheeked youth, an innocent trapped between the hatred of two grown men, both whose duty it should have been to protect him.
Oakes
is right. Robert wouldn’t harm him
. But there were other ways to harm than using sword or fist. His words came back to her over and over, churning to the rumble of the coach.
You don’t want to know. I go hunting. If you knew
who I really was you wouldn’t like me much. You might
even be afraid
.

He had told Oakes to take her back to the king, where she belonged. He’d told
her
not to come back, and after seeing him, she was far from sure she wanted to. He had warned her, yes…but some things no words could adequately convey. She wasn’t sure she would ever forget the sight of him, blood-covered and snarling with bodies al around.

She very much feared it was burned in her memory. It was part of who he was and now it was a part of her.

Oh, God! Just as his sister’s death is forever a part of him,
and Harris’s death will forever be a part of his son.
She felt a deep sense of despair. Robert wasn’t the pure and shining knight of her dreams, nor the monster of his own.

He was honorable and kind and tried to do right, but whether born to it or brought to it by circumstance, he was also a warrior, battered and scarred by wounds so deep they might never heal.

She had said his mistress was revenge and Oakes had cal ed him married to that cold dark bitch cal ed war. Could a man like that ever settle for the kind of life she wanted?

As husband, father, lover, friend? Had it been fair to ask him to choose, or to blame him for fol owing the only path he knew? And did any of it matter anymore when he’d sent her back to Charles?

Oxford Kate’s, London

ROBERT N ICHOLS WAS FAR MORE
comfortable giving help than asking for it, and Wil iam de Veres wasn’t making it any easier.

“Good God, man! You mean to say you’ve misplaced her?

She’s a wee little thing, I’l grant you, but a fel ow real y should try and remember where last he left his wife.”

“And where is Elizabeth?” Robert asked through gritted teeth. “Perhaps she would know where a woman of quality might lodge if not at the palace. I’ve always found her very resourceful.”

“Lizzy? Damned if I know. Probably off in a gambling hel fleecing the life savings from some off-duty footmen. She’s very partial to them, you know.”

“No…I didn’t know.”

“You are fond of the girl, then?”

“Of course I am! She is my wife.” They paused their conversation as a barmaid came in with bread and beer.

He was more than fond of her. Much more. He’d been struck by an epiphany in the middle of a tavern, with his enemy at his mercy, the tip of his sword at the breast of a lad who looked as lost and angry as he had once been, and the wife he loved walking out the door. She didn’t belong to Charles. From the moment she danced in the park he’d known her as his. She had lent him her laughter, her passion, her trust, and for the first time in years, life was worth the living.

She asked but one thing, and look how I repaid her
.
By
abandoning the future, abandoning her, to ride back to a
past I hated.
She’d stood by him as he relived his darkest hours, and she was right when she said it was his turn to stand by her. And so he’d abandoned his revenge. Hope was more important. The boy was more important. But the decision was not without its dangers.

“Wel …Charlie hasn’t seen her yet or I would know it. Does she want to be found, Captain?”

“Eh? What? Oh. Perhaps not.” Robert shifted uncomfortably. “She has reason to be annoyed with me. I doubt she’s expecting me. She was greatly disturbed when I decided to go after Harris rather than accompany her.”

“That was not wel played, my friend. You have arrived in time to redeem yourself, but what if it’s Charlie she wants?”

“It isn’t.”

“So you have managed to capture the heart of one of London’s most charming beauties?”

“Her heart and her hand are both mine.” At least he hoped so. “I mean to bring her home.”

“Safe from our sovereign’s greedy reach. I understand. But what to do about Harris? It’s unfortunate you weren’t able to finish him off. A wounded beast is a dangerous one.”

“I would have had to kil his boy. The lad was innocent.” Wil iam nodded. “It wasn’t I who sent you the note, by the way.”

“I know. I suspected it for a trap immediately, but as I was already there…” He shrugged.

“Fortunately, the trap is not yet sprung. It was baited, of course, to capture larger prey. Harris hoped to lure you there to make you seem a part of it, then play the role of informant and savior in front of his grateful king. You fought for Cromwel . A rumor here and there and next you are a Puritan. An old association found and voilà, a Fifth Monarchist, incensed at a king who would make you a cuckold. People wil believe what they hear on very little evidence, because though it may be a sin to believe evil of others, it is seldom a mistake.

“We shal do to him what he meant to do to you. He’s already placed himself in Farnley. Several men can claim to see him there, including one of His Majesty’s paid informers, Joshua Greathead. It’s a simple matter to put him in the midst of the plot. Yes, he was a royalist, but then a parliamentarian, and then back he goes to a royalist once more. Who can trust such a man or guess what he might do? Particularly when the king humiliated him in front of al London, by promising a reward for returning to the fold only to snatch it away to give to a lowly country baronet. A great many people owe him large sums of money. They wil be glad to believe it and glad to see him gone.” Robert tilted his head and regarded Wil iam through narrowed eyes. “Just what
do
you do for the king? Besides writing scurrilous verse?”