Behind the Mask (110 page)

“If I may, Your Grace?” he asked, taking Abbi’s hand.

Abbi was surprised by Lance’s request as much as the nonchalant way Cameron barely glanced his direction and said, “Of course.” Then he resumed his conversation.

“You looked as though you could use an escape,” Lance said, putting her hand over his arm.

“How perceptive of you, Captain. You’re very talented in rescuing damsels in distress.”

He laughed softly and offered a tender glance. “You look beautiful.” She smiled up at him, grateful for his personal manner in the midst of so much formality. “I imagined you this way.”

“You did?”

“Oh, yes,” he chuckled. “When I realized who you were married to, and what the probable outcome would be, it was not difficult at all to think of you this way.”

“Then why do I feel so out of place?”

“Be patient with yourself,” he said, and kissed her hand before he changed the subject by telling her an amusing anecdote that had occurred with some of his officers a few days earlier. She became so caught up in his story that she completely forgot about the social decorum surrounding her.

Cameron was relieved when Mr. Hertz finished making his laborious point, until he motioned with his champagne glass toward the other side of the room, saying, “You tolerate the captain’s attention to Her Grace very well.”

Cameron glanced over his shoulder just as Abbi erupted with a feminine burst of laughter from something Lance had told her. He looked at Mr. Hertz and said firmly, “Do you hear how her happiness fills the room? I would be a fool to think I’m the only man who can make her laugh.”

“Still, they were very nearly married.” The man chuckled obnoxiously. “Or was that all just a ruse?”

“It was a backup plan, Mr. Hertz. If I had failed in taking back my country, the captain would have made a fine husband and father.”

“And for that reason, can you be wholly comfortable with their obvious affection for each other?”

“Mr. Hertz,” Cameron said with no attempt to hide his indignance, “Her Grace is the truest and best of women, and Captain Dukerk is a man of unquestionable character, who honors her as he honors me. He would die for her. If you are attempting to incite me to jealousy, I can assure you that your efforts are thoroughly wasted. If I hear gossip over the matter, I will know where it started and I may just have to reconsider the positions on my committee. Good evening.”

Cameron walked directly over to Lance, saying with comfortable laughter, “Mr. Hertz believes you are inappropriately involved with my wife. Would you please glare at him this very moment so that he will absolutely know I just told you what he said.”

“As you wish,” Lance said and glared at the man the same time Cameron turned to stare at him as well. Mr. Hertz looked abruptly the other way when he realized they were looking at him. Cameron and Lance both laughed.

“What are the two of you conspiring about?” Abbi demanded.

“Nothing of any importance,” Cameron said.

“I could kiss her right here in front of him,” Lance offered, “if you think it would help.”

“Don’t get too cocky, Captain,” he retorted, trying to sound severe. Then he laughed.

“Never,” Lance said.

“I still haven’t gotten even for the way you kissed her in the cathedral when you knew I could see you. I know what you were thinking.”

“I wanted you to think we were already married,” Lance said lightly. “Of course, your being alive would have made that irrelevant. But I simply wanted a moment to call her mine. You get her for the rest of your life.”

“So I do,” Cameron said with a smile toward Abbi.

Lance looked at her as well. “Is she not beautiful tonight, Your Grace?”

“Indeed she is,” Cameron said while they both gazed at her overtly.

Abbi turned her eyes down, trying to ignore them, unable to come up with any witty reply.

“In fact,” Cameron added, “tonight I can honestly say that I have never felt more happy about being the Duke of Horstberg, and I have never felt more sorry for you, my good man.”

Lance chuckled. “I don’t even need to ask the reasons, but I’m certain you’ll tell me anyway.”

“My dear Captain,” Cameron said, putting a hand to his shoulder, “you may waltz her, escort her, and hold her hand. You may worship, protect, and defend her. But she will be leaving with me.”

Abbi made a disgusted noise and scowled at both of them before she moved to Magda’s side, finding refuge among a gathering of the gentler sex. But Cameron saw her glance toward him skeptically, while Lance was saying with humor, “She is yours because
you
are the king.”

“No, Captain,” Cameron said firmly while keeping his eyes on Abbi, “I am the king
because
she is mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do believe Her Grace is looking exhausted.”

“It would seem she’s in need of rescuing,” Lance said, and Cameron moved to Abbi’s side.

“You look tired,” he said.

“Perhaps if I could just sit down, then—”

“No, let’s go.”

He guided her toward the door without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

“Just like that?” she asked.

“Just like that,” he said, and she breathed in the openness of the hallway as the crowded room was left behind.

They hurried to the bedroom, where Abbi breathed even more deeply, just to be alone with her husband, and to see the love in his eyes that had always been there. “Stand right there,” he said, and slowly walked around her, looking at her as if she were a museum piece. “You are more lovely and precious than I ever could have imagined, and I want to remember this moment for as long as I live.”

Abbi attempted to draw the attention from herself by saying, “And you, Your Grace, are by far the most handsome man I have ever seen, or hope to see.” He smiled. “However,” she added, “you are far more adequately clothed. I feel half naked,” she admitted.

“Much more covered than most of the women there tonight, and I far prefer it that way.” She questioned him silently and he clarified, “You are sacred to me, Abbi. I do not wish to publicly flaunt what is most beautiful and feminine about you. In my own opinion, women who display themselves too boldly are merely expressing their own insecurity or discontentment.”

“You sound . . . zealous on the topic.”

“I suppose I am,” he said, removing his coat. “Forgive me for making comparisons, my dear, but Gwen dressed like a whore; a very aristocratic and opulent whore. She advertised herself freely. She was an embarrassment to herself and to me. I told her so, which made her all the more determined to do it. But she got what she wanted.”

“What was that?”

“A great deal of attention from the kind of men who are impressed by such things.” He stood behind her. “You, on the other hand, are far more queenly for what you do not show in public, for what you save only for your husband.” He touched her shoulders and her upper back before he kissed where he had touched. Facetiously he whispered, “Now, how does one go about removing such a work of art as this gown?”

She laughed softly. “Hidden hooks, down the sides.”

“Ah,” he said as she lifted one arm and he found the fastenings. “I think I should very much like to have Elsa’s job.”

“I think you are more suited to running a country. And being my husband.”

“How marvelous,” he murmured, and her gown slid to the floor. “Since I have the privilege of both, I am surely the happiest man alive.”

Cameron kissed her the way he’d wanted to all evening and carried her to the bed. She wore the crown while he made love to her. But the perfect admiration he saw in her eyes was most queenly of all. Surrounded by perfect tranquility, they sat in the center of the bed, the sheets wrapped around and between them while he meticulously removed every pin from her tresses, watching with fascination as they unwound and cascaded around her. For seemingly endless minutes he worshiped her exquisite red hair with his hands, exploring it, contemplating it, pressing it to his face. He reverently removed the crown and put it away before he made love to her again. Then he slept with perfect contentment in the arms of the Duchess of Horstberg.

Abbi was just coming awake when she heard a knock at the door. Cameron barely rolled over before he called, “Come.” She slithered further beneath the covers, wondering who might come to their bedroom so early. She was relieved to see Georg enter.

“Get dressed,” he said, “both of you. I need you to come with me.”

“Whatever for?” Abbi insisted.

“Trust me,” Georg said, but he seemed in good spirits. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Abbi asked Cameron while he buttoned the back of her dress.

“Not in the slightest,” he said through a yawn.

In the hall Georg handed them their cloaks and hurried down the stairs, not giving them a chance to ask questions. Abbi was surprised to be led to a section of the stables she’d never been to before. They were barely inside when she saw a stable-hand on his knees, assisting a laboring mare. Abbi stopped and took a sharp breath, turning to Georg in question. He smiled at her and said, “Blaze is about to become a father.”

Abbi gasped softly. Cameron chuckled and said, “Scoundrel horse. I should have known that none of us would ever be the same the first time he started—”

“Flirting with your mares,” Abbi said, recalling the way he’d put it back then, the first day they’d come face-to-face.

Cameron put his arm around her shoulders and urged her closer, as if he shared her nostalgia for such an impacting day in their lives. Georg put a hand on the shoulder of the stable-hand, asking quietly, “How’s she doing?”

“Fine so far. It’s almost here.”

Abbi crept quietly closer and sat in the straw. Cameron sat close beside her and she held to him tightly while they watched the little foal come into the world. The birth went quickly and smoothly. Georg laughed and announced, “It’s a filly.”

Abbi’s thoughts wandered to the morning Blaze had been born.
The day Cameron had been arrested.
If they had only known . . .

She turned to look at her husband and found him already watching her. Were his thoughts the same as hers? Perhaps to test him, she said, “The day Blaze was born—”

“I know,” he said and pressed a kiss to her brow, which for some reason spurred her to tears.

“What will you name her?” Georg asked, while it was assessed that the filly was healthy and strong.

Cameron tightened his arm around Abbi and said firmly, “Blizzard.”

Abbi met her husband’s intense eyes. The stable-hand laughed and said, “A beautiful name, but a bit odd for a chestnut.”

“The color of fire,” Georg said, winking at Abbi.

Cameron explained, “She was conceived during a blizzard. It was a very memorable night.”

Abbi was overcome with such a rush of memories—and the emotions associated with them—that she suddenly felt on the verge of losing all dignity.

“Thank you, Georg,” she said and came to her feet, rushing out of the stable.

Cameron met Georg’s eyes with concern and hurried to thank both him and the stable-hand before he followed after her. When he stepped into the courtyard, she was nowhere to be seen. If she’d headed back inside, she wouldn’t have made it to the door by now. He found her a minute later, sitting in the straw next to Blaze’s stall, crying without restraint. He sat beside her and pushed her hair back off her face. She looked momentarily embarrassed, then pressed herself into his arms.

“What is it?” he whispered, holding her close.

“Has it only been eleven months?” she asked. “It seems a lifetime ago, worlds away.”

“It is hard to believe, isn’t it,” he murmured.

Her tears settled and she sniffled loudly. “If you could go back . . . would you change what you did, the choices you made?”

“Only in one respect,” he said with no hesitance. “I wish I wouldn’t have been such a proud fool; I should have been kinder to you.”

She tightened her hold on him. “We both had much to learn.”

“Yes, we did; especially me. No, I wouldn’t change it, Abbi. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She sighed deeply, going back further in time. “When I think of . . . the day Blaze was born . . . with what we know now, I wish that—”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “We can’t go back. Those years were necessary, Abbi, even if we don’t fully understand why. But a thought occurred to me . . . just a few minutes ago . . .”

“What?” She drew back to look at him.

“Blaze was born in the early morning; I remember Georg telling me a foal had been born when he met me at the pub.”

“That’s right.”

“Before I was arrested,” he said, and Abbi saw his eyes grow distant and troubled. “But you knew . . . before he was born . . .” He looked directly at her. “Tell me again about the dream.”

“I knew he would be a stallion, that he would lead me to . . .” She hesitated and took a sharp breath.

“To what?”

“It felt like . . . great happiness, to some . . . purpose. Georg said it would be my destiny.”

Cameron tightened his gaze on her. “Before I was arrested? Before Gwen was dead? Abbi, God knew. He knew what was going to happen, and before it even happened He had set into motion the plan for my return, and for us to be together.” Abbi strengthened her embrace and felt him do the same in return. “It
was
a lifetime ago, Abbi, that Blaze led you to me. We have lived through more in a year than most people would endure together in a lifetime. But I love you more for what you have endured by my side, and for my sake.”