The Woman Inside (20 page)

“What about....” Penny trailed as she stared at an approaching rider. Their
wandering had taken them near the stables, and a lad had noticed them and nudged
his gray toward them.

Closer inspection of the rider with fur hat revealed a woman’s eyes. When she
pulled down her scarf, Ceylon’s eyes widened in recognition, but she decided to
let the newcomer handle the formalities.

“Your highness,” the rider nodded her head to the three.

“Lady Riverdell,” Anne inclined her head. “Have you met Lady Ceylon de
Shardsvale?”

Lady Riverdell, the late Odell, grinned. “We’ve met. Congratulations on your
wedding, my lady. I hope you’re not disappointed in his recent departure?”

A flash of longing distracted Ceylon for a moment. “I miss him. We write as
often as possible.” She gestured to the ladies. “I’ve been teaching their
highnesses about the benefits of exercise. You look like an expert on it.”

“At your service,” somehow she managed to bow, certainly a challenge on
horseback.

Ceylon caught Penny eyeing the magnificent gray with longing. She glanced at
Lady Riverdell for permission.

“Would you like a ride, your highness?” Lady R. asked.

“Do you mean it?” Penny asked breathlessly.

For answer Lady R. guided her horse next to a bench.

“Up you go, your highness,” Ceylon said as she helped the girl mount on back.
The horse took off at a trot, then broke into a canter, Penny’s delighted whoops
trailing behind.

One down, two to go, Ceylon thought smugly.

Iona’s downfall turned out to be ice skating, of all things. Once Ceylon had
shown her the basics, she took to the ice like she’d been born for it. It was
the funniest thing, watching her struggle to master the blades, but she was so
determined Ceylon cheered her on with good heart.

Since Ann was indifferent to horses and lukewarm about skating, Ceylon
decided to give the matter a rest for the day. Once they returned to the palace,
chilled and happy, she joined Lady R. in her room for a meal.

“Since war has delayed my appointment with her Majesty, I’ve been struggling
to stay busy. Not much holds my interest in the city, so I take my rides, fence,
and visit the local orphanage to burn the time.”

“I’ve been wondering why you traveled with us instead of taking your own
escort.” Ceylon took a delicate bite of quiche.

“Not local trouble, I assure you. And speaking of trouble, how goes your
business with Eville? Word has it the wretch is still bothering you.”

Ceylon raised a brow, touched. “Checking up on me?”

“I do have a debt to pay.” She smiled and refilled Ceylon’s glass. “At least
you have the good sense to travel with guards.”

“Uric insisted.” Not that she would have argued with him. Eville was no one
to trifle with.

“Good show. It would have been even better had you had time to conceive
before he left. Practically speaking, a child is a safeguard you could both use,
especially coming from lower class backgrounds. Uric has enough enemies that I’d
be uneasy about being left without an heir.”

Ceylon knew that, and she was. Not so much that she feared losing the power
and the money, but Uric had worked hard for it; too hard to let those who
disliked him simply have it.

“Yes, but I can’t just chase after him and get one,” she said, annoyed at the
whole business. She wanted to be with him, not stuck here making women
beautiful. There had to be more useful things she could be doing.

Allyson, as she’d told Ceylon to call her, raised a brow. “And why not?
Believe me, if we wait on men to take care of everything for us we’ll be cooling
our heels until we’re old and gray. Chase your dreams, Ceylon. You’ll get but
one chance at life.”

“And if I’m caught by Uric’s enemies? How will that help?”

Allyson winked at her. “Trust me to look into it for you, hm?”

Even if Ceylon was interested, her fertile time had come and gone, so she
would have to wait to try it. Allyson assured her it would give her time to
plan, anyway. She was intensely interested in learning how to tell when one was
fertile, and asked many questions about it. As a result it was very late when
Ceylon got home. The outside lamps had been lit in anticipation of her arrival,
and she relaxed at the thought of a peaceful bit of knitting followed by a long
night’s sleep.

Flanked by her footmen and two guards, she mounted the steps as Darjeng
opened the door....

... and was struck in the right shoulder by the quarrel of a crossbow, which
sent her staggering to the stone steps.

Instantly her guards closed around her and, shielding her with their bodies,
hustled her inside.

Shock and pain made everything pass in a sickening swirl. The guards cut her
coat away and ripped the shirt underneath to expose the quarrel head. Maude came
running, a dizzy blur of sound and motion.

Someone said, “At least the head went through. It would have proved a bloody
mess to go after.” She was held while someone broke the head off. She cried out.
A moment later they jerked it out of her shoulder. A scream tore from her
throat. Blessed darkness descended on her, but it didn’t last, for she woke as
someone lifted her. Her guard ascended the steps. Below them, in the foyer, she
heard Darjeng swear a very un-butler-like oath. “Look at that! The bloody bugger
left a note.”

“What’s it say?”

Darjeng’s tone was grim. “This is just the beginning.”

* * * *

Uric flattened his hands on either side of the missive and bowed his head.
Only his harsh breathing sounded in his tent. Raven and Roland weren’t foolish
enough to disturb him; not when he was this close to absolute fury.

The boy had become wary and deferential around him. Much of the youthful
foolishness of his had passed with the sight of his first battle. Though he
hadn’t participated, he’d gotten an eyeful. At last he was learning there was
more to war, and being a man, than fire and glory. The moans of the wounded in
the night were a reminder if he became in danger of forgetting.

But this ... He glared at the message. What kind of man attacked an innocent
woman just for sport? At that moment he wished he weren’t the leader of his
queen’s army, for he’d dearly like to rush home and rip the man’s heart out.
Since he couldn’t, he chose to sic another demon on the stalker who tormented
his wife.

He flipped over the paper and wrote one sentence on the back. Take care of
this. Uric. Dante owed him, and would be more than happy to settle the cost this
way.

Eville would regret ever casting eyes on Ceylon after the Inferno finished
with him.

* * * *

Ceylon slouched in her chair. Her shoulder was still sore, and she wanted out
of the house, but she wasn’t allowed out except to go to the palace, which she
wasn’t expected to do yet, since her injury was too recent. Roland’s brother
Dante had moved into the house at Uric’s request, and though he was personable,
even charming, his presence reminded her that he was here and Uric was not.

“Cheer up, dear.” Anne handed her a cup of tea and joined her in the sitting
room. “They say your husband already has this rebel duke on the run. I think
he’s just anxious to get back to you.” She winked.

“Count on it.” Dante looked over the paper he was perusing. Dressed in a
maroon shirt and a dramatic silver shot vest of deep purple, he looked quite at
home in a lady’s parlor. Not that he was feminine in any way; his lean body
testified to a love of exercise, perhaps riding. Still, his perfectly groomed,
silver shot hair and ever-present cane almost shouted ‘dandy’. The ebony walking
stick leaned against his chair, in easy reach. The silver knob on top gleamed
like the mirror shine of his boots. “Any man forced to leave so charming and
beautiful a bride would do his best to hurry back.”

Ceylon sighed. The man was as bad as “Odell” had pretended to be. While it
was thoughtful of Uric to ask his friend to stay with her, she really couldn’t
see what use such an obvious dandy would be if she were attacked. Maybe Uric had
thought the mere presence of a man would prove calming. If so, he didn’t know
her very well.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of tea. Silly creatures, men.

“You have a visitor, my lady,” Darjeng announced. “Her Highness, Princess
Annadelle.”

“Oh, Ceylon,” Ann gushed as soon as she swept in. Her veil was off, perhaps
for the first time in years, and there wasn’t a wart to be seen.

She knelt at Ceylon’s feet and gripped her hand earnestly. Tears glimmered in
her eyes. “Look! Just look at me. You’ve done so much for us, and now some
madman is trying to kill you! How can we help?”

Moved, Ceylon squeezed her hand and smiled. She knew exactly what Ann was
feeling right now. “I’ve just happy for you, your highness. I don’t need
anything.”

“Ann,” she insisted, straightening. She sat on the sofa opposite Ceylon. “And
we must do something for you. My sister Penny’s complexion has evened out, and
once the redness fades she’ll be almost pretty. Even Iona has lost more weight
than ever before, and in such a short time. Name your desire.”

Completely at a blank, Ceylon looked around for inspiration and settled for
sidetracking the earnest young woman. Her gaze lit on Ann Wright. “Speaking of
the redness in your sister’s skin, I have a solution, if you’re interested.”

The princess leaned forward.

“I can’t cure the scaring, but my friend here is a skilled beautician. She’s
developed cosmetics that will do wonders for you all. Not only do they beautify,
but her creations leave the skin soft, smooth and healthy.”

“Really?”

Anne Wright bowed her head respectfully. “I would be happy to show your
highness right now, if you like.”

A half hour later, Anne finally let the princess look in the sitting room
mirror.

Annadelle’s mouth dropped open. “Is this truly me?” she whispered. One hand
rose to her face.

Even Ceylon was impressed. The plain girl who’d come visiting had utterly
transformed. While she might not be the most beautiful woman in the realm, she
was certainly pretty.

“You look ravishing, your highness.” Dante bowed over her hand and kissed it.
“A veritable vision of loveliness.”

The princess blushed. “You are too kind, my lord.”

“You must hold a grand ball to unveil your new self,” he insisted, oozing
charm. “And perhaps in honor of your benefactress, the new baroness?”

“Oh, no!” Ceylon said quickly. “That’s not necessary.” The last thing she
wanted was to attend a ball, especially without Uric. It would scare her to
death.

Obviously taken with the idea, Annadelle lit up. “Oh, what a smashing idea!
We must start planning at once. And my sisters....” She grabbed Anne Wright’s
hands. “You must come to the palace at once. You will be so popular, we shall
almost have to hide you away! You can not imagine how....”

Anne sent Ceylon an amused look over the chattering princess’ head. “Only if
I may return when I am finished. Someone needs to keep and eye on Lady
Shardsvale.”

Reminded of Ceylon’s condition, the princess was quick to agree. “Oh, of
course. It’s imperative that we keep the queen’s best healer in top health.”

Much like a favored horse, Ceylon thought with a private smile. Still, she
was pleased to have been of service.

She went to bed early that night. The blood she’d lost still made her a
little tired, and her body was working hard to repair her injury. Between Anne’s
nursing--she was a fair herbalist herself, and was very interested in exchanging
knowledge with Ceylon--and all the medicinal tea she was drinking, she’d
remained free of infection and was mending well. Still, a wound was a wound.

Too bad Eville was set on playing with her. She knew very well that if he’d
wanted to kill her she’d have been dead. No, he wanted her to suffer as he
imagined he was suffering. If only she knew the reason for his hatred....

The floors were chilly at night, so she’d donned thick woolen socks over her
inner socks. The padding muffled her footsteps as she passed Dante’s door, and
her soft sleep pants and nightshirt didn’t even whisper. A light glowed under
the door, but she didn’t wish to disturb her guest. She’d even forgone a candle,
since the moon was high and spilling light into the house. Besides, she was
going straight to bed.

With one hand on the door to her room, she froze. Had something just darkened
the moonlight spilling under her door? Fine hairs on end, she listened, yet
heard nothing. Unwilling to take a chance, even though she felt a little silly,
she padded back to Dante’s door and softly knocked.

The door opened, and he raised his brows. He was dressed for bed in silky
indigo sleep pants and nothing else.

Slightly embarrassed, she averted her eyes. “I thought I heard a noise in my
room. I know it’s likely nothing, but....”

“Stay here.” He ducked back inside the room and grabbed his cane and doused
his lamp, cloaking them in darkness. Once she was inside he shut the door.

Ceylon bit her lip as she listened. Maybe he wasn’t quite the dandy she’d
thought?

Seconds dragged by. The need to know was killing her, but she wasn’t idiot
enough to open the door. He didn’t need her distracting him. Besides, what could
she do if there was someone in her room? One arm was in a sling, and she didn’t
have a weapon. Instead she stood by the lamp, ready to light it and come running
if needed.

There came a crash, as if her door had burst open. Shouts. A man’s scream.
Moments later Darjeng, the footmen and guards came running, so she figured she
was safe to come out.

Dante was in the hall. He had a man shoved up against the wall, his face
mashed into the wood. The intruder’s arm was twisted up behind his back, and his
temple was bleeding. By the amount of soot on his clothes, it was a good guess
he’d come down through the chimney.