Lady Gallant (28 page)

"I don't know," Christian said with a fierce laugh. "And do you know why? Because I'm afraid to imagine such a thing. Maggots must have taken up nesting in my brain."

Sebastian let out a deep sigh and settled back on his pillows. "Good."

"Your concern for me touches my heart."

"I feared you only lusted after the girl, but it is love, and I am content."

"Shhhh!" Christian raced to the door to make certain it was closed, then returned. "You don't have to let anyone else know my foolishness."

"It was good of the Queen to consent to hold the ceremony here. It would have grieved me to miss your wedding, my headstrong."

"You won't say anything about it, will you?"

"What?" The Earl grinned at his son.

Christian twisted the cap and wig. "Love."

"That is for you to do, and soon, for I'm sure you've tormented the poor girl into thinking you're marrying her out of perverse and reluctant duty, or to protect her. And since this isn't an arranged match, I can hardly speak for you. Get you gone, whelp. I tire, and you're dancing about the chamber like a destrier before a battle."

Christian took the ring of three hoops with him and went in search of his betrothed. Flour-free, clothed in green and gold damask, and as nervous as a rabbit in a kennel, he gained entrance to the palace two hours after being dismissed by his father.

The ring he'd gotten from Unthank. It was of a deep reddish gold, filigreed, and made of interlocking rings. One was the betrothal ring. The other two they would exchange that night. And afterward, he would have Nora to himself. At last. The thought was enough to make him swell so much, it was difficult to walk comfortably.

As usual, he couldn't find Nora in any of the places she was supposed to be. Even her pen of strays was deserted except for the page Arthur. Christian showered the boy with comfits and promises of lessons at the bow, and resumed his search. Recollecting at last where he'd found her before, he realized he should have thought of that noisome garden sooner. She was bound to be there collecting fruit or herbs and hiding from the censurious eyes of Mistress Clarencieaux.

Wanting to surprise her, Christian cracked the door open and pressed his face to the gap. The sun had yet to reach its high point, and its rays still touched off silver fire in the remaining dew on leaf and petal. He could smell freshly turned earth.

Nora was gathering herbs, her gown a pink blossom amid the darker greens around her. A spade stuck in the ground near a rose bush warned him that a gardener might return soon, yet he stayed a moment to enjoy the sight of Nora. She wasn't a beauty like many at court, nor did she possess the wanton, pleasure-loving bawdiness of his dear Mag. Still, she had his heart tied to the chain suspended from her girdle, right alongside her enameled perfume case.

He saw she'd gathered some angelica root and was tying it in a bundle. Next she began cutting heartsease, her small fingers holding the plant while she cut the stem with her scissors.

Heartsease. It was used to invoke love. He'd tried to em-barrass her once by pointing out this function, but she'd gazed at him somberly, assuring him it was more used to cure the pox. Christian remembered her air of gravity and concern, the way she'd completely missed his attempt to lure her into titillating conversation. He felt again the shock he'd experienced at discovering purity, kindness, and a gentle heart set down before him in the package of a rose and milk-skinned gosling.

What was she doing? He eased the door open a bit wider to get a better look, for Nora had collected a bunch of heartsease and seemed to be hunched over it. Abruptly, she jerked erect and darted glances around the deserted garden. Her movements were quick, and she'd paled. She looked his way, and he backed from the door. She'd seen nothing, however, for she sighed and crossed to the bench near the fig tree.

Intrigued, Christian watched her tie the heartsease into a bundle to be put in her herb basket along with the angelica. Once the bouquet was secure, she peered around the garden again, her head turning slowly, her eyes seeking out each corner and shadow. Her inspection complete, she fumbled at the neck of her gown.

She lifted the white lace over her breast, exposed a good bit of flesh, then searched beneath it with her fingers. When she withdrew them, she held something, but it was too small for Christian to see. Slipping the object into the bundle of heartsease, she tied another piece of string around the bouquet and placed it beside the angelica. Her hand hovered over the herbs, touched a petal, withdrew. Again she gave the empty garden a piercing examination.

Christian rubbed his upper lip with a forefinger, wondering what mischief she'd gotten into now. He was sure she'd just concealed a message of some kind. Mayhap she was plotting to rescue more abused creatures or adopt another abusive urchin such as Arthur. Whatever it was, he would have to interfere. She couldn't act on her own anymore; she must ask his permission and be guided by his word.

He stepped into the garden, locking the door behind him. As the bolt shot, Nora jumped up from the bench and yelped. Christian grinned at her astounded look, but stopped when she twisted her hands together and almost sobbed. As he ap-proached, her eyes grew wider and wider, until he at last stopped before her.

She was afraid, he realized, and it was his fault for staying away when he should have sought her out immediately upon signing those contracts with her father. Only his father had been so weak, and he'd been so furious with himself for a yearning for her that he couldn't shirk.

"Don't quake so, chuck," he said. "I've come to throw myself at your feet in abasement."

Instead of bursting into a smile of gratitude, she gave a little whimper and dashed past him. Startled, Christian didn't catch her until she was at the door. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her back to the bench and sat down with her in his lap.

"God's breath," he said. "I admit I frighten whipjacks and gamers, but I thought we'd gotten 'round this skittishness. Be still, sweeting. I'm not going to eat you, not yet."

Nora subsided, her hands pressing against the gold embroidery of his doublet. He smiled at her, and for once tried to hold in check both lust and the urge to tease. His restraint was rewarded, for her eyes lost that trapped-animal intensity and her body relaxed.

"Are you listening to me now?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Are you ready to marry me?"

Her features twisted, and she looked down. "I…"

Christian hardly breathed, sensing that she was trying to say something of great import.

"I…"

"Yes, chuck?"

At last she spat the words out like a drowning victim spits water. "I love you, but you don't have to marry me, I won't hold you to it, I know you were just trying to help me get rid of Flegge, and I'm grateful, but really you only find me amusing and like to touch me, but you never wanted to do more than bed me, so it's quite all right. I understand, and I'm sure we can think of something, but you really can't keep trying to seduce me after this, because, you see, I do love you so much I think I'll die of it."

Christian stared at her, his mind working over that last bit of chirping desperation. "God has honored me with his blessing," he said at last.

She glanced up at him, but then cast her eyes down once more. "Yes. Yes. Well then, we agree."

"Marry, lady, we do not."

"We don't?"

"Nay. We haven't agreed upon anything, and we won't until you quit chattering like a peacock being chased by a cook. Keep still and close your mouth." He captured both of her hands. "I didn't say I'd marry you for charity's sake. I did it for my own sake. It seems I must have you. I know it doesn't make sense, but there it is. It doesn't matter whether I'm beset with an ague or well, furious with you or pleased, inspired to quote poetry or spew curses at you. No matter what happens—and many odd things happen when you're near, my sweeting—I can't rid myself of this desire."

"But—"

He shook her, causing her French hood to slide askew. "I love you, you cursed mite." Annoyed at having to say it, he thrust her from him and snapped like an angry turtle. "God's blood. Silly gentry mort. Teasing little badger."

Something tickled his cheek, and his blustering ground to a halt as Nora's lips brushed his jaw. He turned his head.

"Don't cry, chuck. I'm sorry." He pulled her back into his arms. "God help me, I've never been in love, and it's damned… uncomfortable." He heard Nora chuckle. "I feel beset by enchantment, set upon and befuddled."

"And it gives you a harpy's tongue," she said.

His gaze drifted to her lips. "Come dull the edge of my tongue then."

He slipped his tongue into her mouth and pulled it out again. She started and gaped at him, but he nipped at her lower lip, at her chin and jaw. Running his tongue down her neck, he licked his way to the lace of her gown. He rested his cheek on her soft flesh and cupped his hand over her breast.

He stayed there, holding her, testing his control and tormenting himself at the same time. His groin ached and his thigh muscles tensed as he sought to remain motionless. He broke quickly. Turning his face to her chest, he buried his nose in her softness and squeezed her breast.

"Christ, Nora." He tore his hands from her and again thrust her away. "Run."

"My lord?"

"Run." His voice rose to cruelty. "Run now, or I won't stop until I have you beneath me with my phallus buried between your legs. Run!"

He didn't hear her go. Hands braced on the bench, he fought the throbbing, the roaring lust, the pain. At last he was able to lower his body to the bench, lying half on the ground and half on its surface, his burning cheek pressed against the cool stone. In time he opened his eyes, and they lighted on the herb basket. He touched a finger to a blossom of the heartsease, and a glint of metal winked at him. Smiling, he remembered Nora's secretive manner. She'd hidden something in the flowers.

Fishing inside the bouquet, he retrieved a small metal bead. From it protruded the edge of a piece of paper. Christian teased it forth. Unrolling it, he studied the senseless markings while ice poured into his veins. A cipher. Matters of import were put into cipher, not the contrivings of innocent maids. What had Nora gotten herself into?

He rolled the cipher back into a cylinder and inserted it in his cuff. His clerk would translate the cipher, then he would go to Nora with it and demand an accounting. Whatever she was doing would have to stop. Foolish mouse. He wouldn't permit her to engage in any court intrigues, no matter how her soft heart ached to champion some lost soul. Her safety was more important. It was the most important thing in his life—next to killing Jack Midnight.

He returned to find his house in the condition of a wrecked ship. From his sickbed the Earl had given commands that the mansion be prepared for the wedding of his heir. Christian had forgotten to do so himself. The steward rushed continually from the great hall to the kitchens to the stables and back to the hall, bellowing orders and working his staff into a frenzy.

The clatter of furniture being moved and the quarreling of servants drove Christian abovestairs. He'd given Nora's cipher to his clerk with orders to break the code. Expecting the cipher to be translated easily, he forgot about it and retreated to the reading room he'd had built off his bedchamber.

They were waiting for him. Christian stepped inside the chamber and met four pairs of accusing eyes. Inigo Culpepper bowed, but remained out of arm's reach as Christian glared at him for allowing this intrusion. His castigation was forestalled when Mag rushed at him. Throwing herself into his arms, she chuckled and planted a hard kiss on his mouth. Three of her girls surrounded him, and his body was invaded by small hands.

"Kit, my succulent," Mag said, "if you're to cleave to a wife from now on, we want a last taste."

"Mrrw—mmmmhhh." Christian tore his lips free of Holly Cushion's. "No you don't. Inigo, you sod, get them out."

"Now, Kit," Inigo said, throwing up his hands. "You know Mag does what pleases her."

"And you do please me, Kit." Mag walked around Christian, hands on hips, and eyed him from head to toe. "God's cock, you've pleased me since the day I taught you how. You were such a wild thing when I first had you, so young but full of need. And never had I a better pupil in my thieves' school."

Christian twisted in Holly's arms and ducked out of the circle of female flesh. He dashed around Inigo, putting the cut-purse between him and the women.

"And I'm grateful, Mag, but I need no more lessons, and I'll be damned if I want you draining me dry before my wedding night. Begone or I'll feed you to my men."

"Ah, you're breaking my heart."

"What heart?"

Mag laughed and beckoned to her friends. "Come, gossips, our charger resists being mounted, and we've plenty of those who don't resist and who do pay."

The girls left, and Mag held out her hand to Christian. He came out from behind Inigo and took it. She put her palm to his cheek and looked into his eyes.

"I came to see if you were happy, my madcap." She studied him for a moment before kissing him. When his lips remained still under hers, she freed them. "You could have come to say farewell."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She stroked his cheek. "No, you're not, but I think we're family, you and I and Inigo and the rest. And we're losing you to a gentry mort more surely than if they'd clapped you in the Tower."

"Nothing will change."

"Then you'll come to me of an evening and carouse with Inigo and Spry and Now-Now?"

"Sometimes."

"And I still have leave to do this?" She kissed him once more while her hands slithered down his body to cup him. When he shoved her hand away, she stepped back, shaking her head. "Do I?"

"No."

"Why not, Kit, if nothing's changed?"

Christian hurled himself away from her. "God's curse on you! I don't know why. Must I account to you and Inigo and every other runagate and trull…"He stopped, sucking in air between clenched teeth. "Leave me be, Mag. I'm not fit for company, and I 'll broil you on the spit of my ill temper. Give me peace on this day, and I'll come to you with gifts and songs on another."