The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) (43 page)

For a second, he froze at the unexpected and erotic tableau in front of him.
 
Then, recovering his presence of mind, he said, ‘My apologies.’
 
And beat a hasty retreat.

Equally shocked, Ashley and Athenais also froze.

A deep flush stained Athenais’s skin – less because of what she’d been doing than because she’d been seen doing it – but she made no attempt to cover herself.
 

Ashley removed his hands from her and sat very, very still as the world dropped stomach-churningly back into focus.

She said unevenly, ‘That was … a little unfortunate.’

‘You think so?’

His tone sounded odd, not at all what she might have expected considering what had just passed between them.
 
She turned to look at him.
 
His face was completely without expression, his eyes flat and opaque.
 
Athenais didn’t know whether he was embarrassed on her account or his own or whether he was just annoyed at the interruption – but she assumed it must be one of them.
 
Stroking the tawny-fair hair back from his face, she tilted her head to kiss his jaw and murmured, ‘Perhaps I should lock the door?’

There was a long silence.
 
Then Ashley said distantly, ‘Or perhaps I should help you dress.’

Her heart sank and worry started to gnaw at the edges of her mind.

‘Why?
 
It doesn’t really matter that Francis knows, does it?
 
He may say something to you, of course – but he’s too much of a gentleman to speak of it to anyone else.
 
And if I don’t mind, why should you?’

He nearly said that he minded immensely that Francis had seen her half-naked but for the wild tumble of her hair but knew that it wouldn’t help to admit it.
 
So he forced his brain to function and said instead, ‘What Francis knows or doesn’t know is of little consequence.’

‘Then what is?’

‘Do you really need to ask?’
 
He dislodged her from his lap, turning her as he did so in order to begin re-lacing her gown.
 
‘What happened just now may have been unintentional but it was still a mistake.
 
My fault not yours, of course.’

Athenais wriggled free and managed to swivel back to face him.

‘Stop it!
 
You can’t do this again.’

‘Do what?’

‘Pretend there’s nothing between us.
 
Pretend you don’t want me.’

Despising himself and feeling utterly sick, he summoned a faint rueful smile and did what had to be done.

‘Darling – of course I want you.
 
What man wouldn’t?
 
And I’ve been lying in bed for days with you popping in and out of here ministering to my every need save one – so it was inevitable that I should fantasise a little, if only to pass the time.’

She dragged herself from the bed and stood up, clutching her gown to her chest.

‘Inevitable?’ And when he nodded, ‘You’ll have to forgive me – but I’d like to be clear about this.
 
You’ve been imagining removing my clothes and putting your hands on me
just to pass the time?
’

‘Well, yes.’ He shrugged with a nicely-judged hint of repentance.
 
‘It’s what men do – and there’s little enough harm in it.
 
But it was wrong of me to take advantage and we should be grateful that Francis brought us both to our senses before it went too far.’

Athenais wasn’t grateful at all.
 
In her opinion, it hadn’t gone far enough. She was also becoming rather angry.
 
‘I don’t know whether you think I’m an idiot or merely naïve.
 
But one thing I
do
know.
 
Even if you
were
the kind of man to seduce a girl just to pass a dull Tuesday – which you’re not – nothing that passed between us before Francis walked in had anything to do with taking advantage purely because you had the opportunity.
 
It was more than that.’

Ashley leaned back against the pillows and began fastening his shirt with an appearance of total unconcern.

‘I see.
 
And you know this because?’

‘I know it,’ she said, her voice suddenly unsteady, ‘because when I was fourteen, I was raped by an eighteen-year-old version of the Marquis d’Auxerre.’
 
She watched his hands still and his face go rigid with shock. ‘I know it because I know
you
– you stupid,
stupid
man!
 
And for God knows what reason, I seem to have fallen in love with you.
 
But until you know your own mind and are prepared either to explain why whatever this is between us can’t be allowed to happen or admit that you really don’t care for me, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself – because I’m not about to make this mistake again.’

And, without giving him the chance to reply, she whirled out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

~
 
*
 
*
 
~
 
*
 
*
 
~

Although Francis said nothing to either Athenais or Pauline, he’d half-intended to provoke Ashley with some sly innuendo.
 
Fortunately, before he opened his mouth, he caught sight of the Colonel’s expression and recognised that saying anything at all was likely to conjure up a storm.
 
He therefore made a swift exit, leaving Ashley lurching from window to bed to wash-stand as he hauled himself grimly around the bedchamber.

Ashley’s mood was black as the deepest pit of hell.
 
In the first moments when Athenais had slammed out of the room, he’d found himself unable to focus on anything beyond that one sentence as it rang over and over in his head.

When I was fourteen I was raped by an eighteen-year-old version of the Marquis d’Auxerre
.

She’d been raped.
 
Three words repeatedly slamming into his gut like a fist.
 
She’d been raped.
 
Why hadn’t he guessed?
 
Why hadn’t he even considered the possibility?
 
She’d been raped.
 
Now he knew, the clues were all there; her aversion to d’Auxerre, her habit of keeping her admirers at a distance; her lack of sexual experience.
 
Everything pointed to it but he, clever fellow that he was, had been too self-absorbed to look below the surface.
 
His Athenais had been raped; worse, some bastard had raped her when she was fourteen years old, for Christ’s sake.
 
And that was when the bile had risen in his throat and sent him stumbling from the bed to vomit into the chamber-pot.

He felt marginally better after that – but not much. He’d known for some time that he couldn’t touch her without becoming as eager as a schoolboy but between one breath and the next, he’d forgotten all his self-made rules and been half-way to having her.
 
He tried to tell himself that it wouldn’t have gone that far … that, even without Francis’s unexpected appearance, he’d have come to his senses and stopped.
 
The trouble was he couldn’t be sure.
 
Where Athenais was concerned, he didn’t seem to have any self-control worth a damn.

Everything he’d said afterwards had been designed to annoy her into doing what he seemed incapable of doing himself – and it had worked, in that she’d told him to keep his hands off her in future.
 
Unfortunately, she’d seen everything else he’d said for the lie it was.
 
Worse still, she’d hurled a declaration of love in his face and revealed something about herself that made his chest feel as though a piece had been hacked out of it.

He didn’t know what to do about any of it.
 
So he harangued Jem into bringing him a pair of breeches and then set about using physical pain as a shield. He forced himself back and forth across the room until his thigh was screaming at him to stop … and then, after a brief respite, did it all over again.
 
It was at some point during this that Francis had stuck his head round the door, sensibly kept his mouth shut and immediately taken himself off.
 
If he’d stayed, if he’d said one word, Ashley thought he’d probably have hit him.

By the following afternoon when Athenais had still not been near him, he realised that if matters were to be mended, she was leaving it up to him to do it.
 
He didn’t blame her for that.
 
One way and another, he’d left her with little choice.
 
The problem was that, if she wouldn’t come to him, he was going to have to go in search of her.
 
And if he couldn’t manage the bloody bedroom, he had no chance at all of negotiating the stairs.
 
So the second day passed like the first, heaping pain upon pain as he struggled to regain a modicum of useful mobility.

*
 
*
 
*

Athenais knew what he was doing.
 
From time to time, she stood outside his door, listening to uneven footsteps and the occasional muffled curse.
 
After six days incarceration, he had clearly reached the limit of his endurance and was determined to get back on his feet as quickly as possible.
 
It occurred to her that he might be doing more harm than good; that someone ought to tell him to stop. But she stayed away because, if he was determined to retreat behind his invisible wall, she had no way to reach him.

She rather regretted telling him that she loved him – not because she didn’t want him to know but because she suspected he was under enough self-induced pressure already. For all she knew, he was even now busy convincing himself that she expected him to go down on one knee and offer her a ring.
 
And if he was, he’d probably continue thinking it no matter what she said.
 
On the other hand, he must have guessed how she felt without her saying it … unless girls usually threw themselves into his arms at the first opportunity.
 
Athenais scowled at the notion, guessing that they probably did.

So she thought about everything except those alarmingly exquisite moments in his arms and rehearsed endless beautifully reasonable and dignified speeches.
 
And in between, she stood outside his door and worried.

Eventually, on the second day and after two hours of spasmodic hovering, she communicated her fears to Pauline.

‘What do you expect me to do about it?’ came the reply. ‘As of this morning, he informed me – oh-so-politely and with a smile that would make hell freeze – that he was grateful for all I’d done but would take care of his leg himself in future.’

‘And you
let
him?’

‘He’s a big boy, Athenais.
 
He’s also alarmingly capable and far from stupid.’

‘But he can’t go on like this.
 
Someone needs to make him see sense.’

‘So go and try,’ came the typical reply.
 
And with a sideways glance, ‘Or have the two of you had a falling-out?’

‘Something like that.
 
He’s stupid and utterly pig-headed.’

‘He’s a man,’ shrugged Pauline.
 
‘What else did you expect?’

‘Francis isn’t like that.’

‘Francis is
exactly
like that.
 
Why else do you think I’m going back on-stage for the first time in nearly seven years if not because his dratted lordship thinks it’s a good idea and has bullied me into it?’

Athenais allowed herself to be temporarily diverted.

‘Yesterday was the first rehearsal, wasn’t it?
 
How did it go?’

‘Well enough.’
 
There was a pause and then Pauline gave the smile that totally transformed her face and that very few people ever got to see.
 
‘Better than that, actually. Unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s going to be outstanding.’

*
 
*
 
*

In the end, it was Francis who told Ashley that if he didn’t stop punishing his leg he’d give himself a permanent limp.

‘I’ve got to get out of this room,’ snapped Ashley.
 
‘It’s driving me insane.’

‘Fine.
 
Lean on me and I’ll help you downstairs.’

‘And back up again?
 
I don’t think so.’
 
He pushed his hands into his hair, then withdrew them in disgust.
 
‘And I need a bath.
 
But that means asking someone to haul the tub up here, along with enough water to fill it.’

‘Jem and I can manage that.
 
Anything else?’

‘Yes.
 
Don’t tell Pauline or I’ll have to ask permission to get the damned stitches wet.’

Francis sighed.
 
He said, ‘I recognise that you’re in a lousy mood.
 
I also recognise that you’re entitled to be.
 
But if you use that tone to Pauline, she’ll take your head off – and rightly so.’

‘I’m not that stupid.’

‘Or that foolhardy, one would hope.
 
Upon which note – if you’ll do yourself the favour of sitting down for half an hour – I’ll set about organising a bath for you.
 
With a bit of luck, it may improve your temper. And if it doesn’t, I suppose we can always drown you in it.’

*
 
*
 
*

Leaving Ashley soaking gratefully in a tub of hot water, Francis went downstairs to where Athenais was pacing up and down the hall.
 
As soon as she saw him, she said, ‘You’ve stopped him trying to maim himself?’

‘For the time being.’

‘And he’s taking a bath?’

‘He is.
 
I left Jem up there in case he needs help. But if you wanted to scrub his back …’ He stopped and, absorbing the look on her face, drew her towards the empty parlour.
 
‘I’m sorry.
 
Obviously that’s not funny.
 
Do you want to tell me about it?’

She perched on the edge of the sofa.

‘About what?’

‘About what’s troubling you and causing Ashley to look as though he’s possessed by demons.’
 
Francis sat beside her and then, when she didn’t answer, said, ‘I don’t mean to pry and I certainly don’t wish to embarrass you. But from what I glimpsed the other day, I rather had the impression that the two of you had … come to an understanding, shall we say?’

‘I thought that, too,’ she replied stonily.
 
‘But apparently not.’

‘Ah.’
 
A faint frown touched the sapphire eyes.
 
‘Ashley’s decision, presumably?’

‘Yes.’
 
Colour rose in her face as she realised that, having seen what he had, Francis could have no doubts on that score.
 
‘He was quite adamant.’

‘Did he explain why?’

‘No.’

Francis’s brows rose.
 
‘He didn’t say
anything?
’

‘Oh yes.
 
He said quite a lot.
 
But none of it was true,’ said Athenais bitterly. And then, sitting a little straighter, ‘I’m sorry.
 
I shouldn’t be talking about this.
 
And I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t … you know.’

‘Yes.
 
I’m extremely sorry about that.’

‘You weren’t to know.’
 
She paused, industriously pleating a fold of her skirt.
 
‘And I’m probably being unfair.
 
I’m sure Ashley has his reasons.’

‘Undoubtedly. But you’ll forgive me for observing that, under the circumstances, you’ve a right to know what they are,’ remarked Francis coolly.
 
‘And I’ll be quite happy to tell him that if you wish.’

‘No!’
 
She swung to face him.
 
‘No, you mustn’t do that.
 
He wouldn’t … that is, you know what he’s like.
 
And --’

She broke off, coming swiftly to her feet as the doorbell rang.

Francis also stood, saying with a grin, ‘Your father will answer it.
 
He’s impatient to try out that club of his – so let us hope the visitor is a friend.’

Out in the hall, Archie stared belligerently at the stranger on the doorstep.

‘Who the ’ell are you?’ he demanded.
 
And then, recollecting that the fellow probably didn’t speak the King’s own English, added laboriously, ‘Key ett voo?’

Noting the large billet in the doorman’s left hand, the visitor took a wary step back and said, ‘I’m looking for Major Langley.’
 
Then, because it seemed expected, ‘
Je cherche
Major Langley.’

‘I got that the first time,’ said Archie, scowling but relieved to be on safe linguistic ground and becoming belatedly aware that the left sleeve of the visitor’s coat was empty and pinned neatly across his chest.
 
‘What do you want wiv ’im?’

‘That’s my business and his. I’m told he lives here.
 
Is that correct?’

‘Might be.’
 
Archie found himself torn.
 
The fellow didn’t
look
dangerous – but then, neither did the Marquis with his fancy ruffles and fine white hands.
 
He said, ‘I’ve orders not to admit any strangers.’

‘Oh?
 
Well, I’m not a stranger. Major Langley knows me very well.
 
If he’s at home, perhaps you could summon him?’

Reaching a decision, Archie said, ‘Wait ’ere, then.’
 
And promptly shut the door in the fellow’s face.

Sticking his head round the parlour door, he jerked his chin at Francis, and said, ‘There’s a cove at the door wot says he knows you.’

‘His name?’

Declining to admit that he’d forgotten to ask, Archie shrugged.

‘Didn’t say.
 
All I know is ’e’s English.
 
I’ve left ’im on the doorstep, if you want to come and take a look.’