Twilight of a Queen (23 page)

Ariane sank back down in her chair. Her face and Miri’s reflected Jane’s own horror.

“Xavier, I—I—” Ariane faltered, at a loss for words. But it scarcely mattered, for Xavier had already stormed off.

X
AVIER BRACED ONE LEG IN FRONT OF HIM, BALANCING
on the edge of the rocks, as close as he could get without tumbling into the waves battering the shore several feet below. Although letting the sea swallow him up seemed like an excellent idea right about now.

He could not believe what an ass he had made of himself. What devil had possessed him to blurt out a memory he found so painful, all but sniveling like some boy scarce breeched? And in front of those women too, his sisters. It was humiliating.

When he heard someone call his name, he gritted his teeth, not feeling up to facing either Ariane or Miri. Glancing back, he was not any better pleased to see Jane picking her way toward him.

He would have liked to roar at her to go back or else just try to ignore her. Neither action was possible. She moved doggedly forward, plucking her gown up out of the way. But the stiff breeze tangled her petticoats about her legs, making her balance precarious.

If he did not intervene, the fool woman was likely to take an unexpected plunge into the cold foaming water. Xavier closed the distance between them in several long strides.

Jane started to slip but he caught her about the waist and hauled her to safety. He used his left arm, but he could feel the wrench, all the way to the muscles on his opposite side. His recently broken arm gave a painful throb.

He shifted his shoulder seeking to adjust the sling, all the while swearing at Jane. “Damnation, woman. What the hell were you thinking to—”

He broke off as she steadied herself and looked up at him. There were tears glistening in her eyes.

“Oh, no!” If he had not been so afraid she would fall, he would have released her and beat a swift retreat.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled at her. “Just because I was stupid enough to rake up some ancient history and I never would have done if Ariane hadn’t provoked me—Damn it, Jane. You are not going to weep over something that happened to me years ago.”

“N-no.” She sniffed, but her eyes brimmed over.

“Hellfire!” But there was little he could do, not with tears trickling down her face. He had no choice but to draw her closer.

She burrowed her face against his chest, wrapping her arms about his waist. He held her, feeling awkward as the
devil. Any other time he was fool enough to rake over his past, he sought relief from the bitter memories by picking a fight in some tavern or at the bottom of a wine cup or by losing himself in a potion-induced trance.

He would never have thought to seek comfort from a woman. But Jane felt good in his arms, soft, warm, the heat of her tears penetrating the fabric of his shirt, like some curiously soothing balm. He relaxed in spite of himself.

Resting his chin atop her head, he murmured into the silky strands of her hair. “Strange, isn’t it? Both my father and mother are dead. What is it about one’s parents that they always retain such power, that they are capable of reducing one to the level of a child again, even from beyond the grave?”

“I don’t know.” Jane drew a little away from him, mopping her eyes. He was reluctant to let her go, maintaining a light grip about her waist.

“So how big of a fool did I make of myself back there?” he demanded.

“None. I am sorry that your revelation was born of such pain and anger, but it was a good thing that you were able to be honest with your sisters. They were both much moved, especially Ariane.”

“So now the Lady of Faire Isle pities me. Wonderful,” Xavier muttered. “Nothing like a little extra salt being rubbed into one’s wounds.”

“Not pity, but empathy. I believe you were both hurt by your father in different ways.” Jane gazed earnestly up at him. “It could be a bridge to a better understanding between you.”

“And what makes you think I would welcome that?”

“You should. Your father might have denied you, but with any encouragement from you, I am sure that Miri and Ariane would claim you as a brother.”

“I have managed just fine alone all these years.” Making sure Jane was steady on her feet, Xavier withdrew the support of his arm.

He returned his gaze to the sea, watching the waves swell and break in their relentless rhythm that was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. He had had quite enough of this discussion and baring his feelings for one morning. He hoped that Jane might take the hint and leave him, but she persisted in that gentle way of hers.

“Perhaps you don’t know what you have missed by not having a family.” She paused, adding in a voice so low, he could scarce hear her above the roar of the surf. “All I have left in the world is a cousin living in Paris who finds my kinship little more than an inconvenience.”

He frowned, feeling a trifle ashamed as he realized that for all the conversation they had shared these past few days, most of it had been about him. Beyond teasing her about her late husbands, he had never thought to enquire about the rest of her family. He would have presumed she had someone, somewhere. A rather stupid assumption on his part, because if she did, she would hardly be dwelling here on Faire Isle alone.

Turning to face her, he asked, “What became of your parents?”

“They are long dead. I barely remember my mother and I lost my father when I was twelve.” Jane wrapped her
arms about herself, whether for comfort or warmth, he could not tell. Shifting, he attempted to provide a barrier between her and the wind blowing in from the channel.

“And you were the only child?” he asked.

“No, I had a brother, Edward, much younger than me. He—he was killed shortly before I had to leave England.”

“What happened?”

Jane gave a sad smile. “It’s rather a long story.”

“Since Ariane refuses to lend me a horse, I don’t appear to be going anywhere.” He brushed back strands of hair that the wind had tangled across her face.

“Tell me,” he coaxed.

Jane sighed. “Well I suppose it all began when my brother and I became acquainted with Margaret Wolfe and her father in London. They were the exiles there, hiding from the Dark Queen.”

Jane checked herself with a frown. “I don’t know how much you know of Meg’s tragic and rather incredible history. You may have heard gossip about Meg from Madame Bevans and some of the others, most of it, I fear, distorted and exaggerated. The truth as I understand it is this.”

Jane launched into an explanation of how from her birth Meg had been hailed as the Silver Rose, the girl who would grow to be a powerful sorceress and subjugate all men to her rule. The prophecies had been promulgated by Meg’s witch of a mother, Cassandra Lascelles. The dreams of a madwoman, that is all they might have been if the coven had not chanced to gain possession of the
Book of Shadows
. A grimoire of such reputed dark power, it was coveted by many, including Catherine de Medici.

Most of these details Xavier already knew, having
learned much from Queen Catherine and the tales that Jambe du Bois had gleaned in Portsmouth.

Xavier had to school his features into an expression of keen interest to avoid giving himself away. It should not have been difficult. He had always been a master of deception, but to his surprise, he was finding it increasingly hard to be less than frank with Jane. Perhaps because the woman was so infernally honest herself.

However, he did not have to feign surprise when she related how she had become entangled in Meg’s life.

“I believe my brother’s fate was sealed when I was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London, accused of being a witch.”

Neither being taken to London’s infamous Tower or being charged with sorcery were matters to jest about, but Xavier could not restrain an incredulous laugh.

“A witch?
You
, Jane?”

She managed a wan smile. “It seemed quite mad to me as well, but somehow the queen’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham, got the notion that I might be the notorious Silver Rose.

“The only way my brother could think of to save me was to find Meg, force her to come forward and confess that she was the one Sir Francis was seeking. But Ned ran afoul of Ambroise Gautier, the assassin sent by the Dark Queen to find the
Book of Shadows
. Ned was—”

Jane’s eyes watered and Xavier feared she might weep again. But she blinked back her tears. “Ned was murdered by Gautier. The villain came at him from behind with a knife and—and my brother stood no chance. Meg witnessed the entire thing. She said that Ned looked more
startled than anything. His—his death came very quickly. But I think poor Meg still has nightmares about it.”

“Poor Meg?”
Xavier echoed. “Trouble seems to follow in that girl’s wake. Your friendship with her strikes me as being a very costly one.”

“My brother’s death was not Meg’s fault. She never wanted to be this—this Silver Rose or have anything to do with the
Book of Shadows
. Nor was Ned entirely innocent in the affair. He was also trying to lay hands on that book. Ned had an interest in the occult that bordered on obsession.”

Jane shivered. “It frightened me. I tried so hard to discourage his alarming pursuit, but to little avail. I should have tried harder. I was his older sister and when our father died, I swore to protect him always.”

“You cannot protect someone from their own particular demons, Jane.” He stroked his fingers along the ridge of her cheekbone as though he could somehow caress away the shadows that haunted her eyes. “I learned that lesson with my mother when I was very young. There was nothing I could do to alleviate her bouts of hysteria or save her from her dark melancholia.”

“Certainly not. You were only a boy.”

“And yet I still felt cursed guilty for sailing away with my father, abandoning her. Even more so when I learned what she did after we were gone. Giving up her house, her gowns, her jewels, all the pretty things she loved so much, and walling herself up in that convent.

“I hope it was not merely another of her mad gestures. That she found some measure of peace before she died. Perhaps that is all any of us can hope for.”

Jane bit down upon her lip. “That is something I considered myself, taking the veil—”

“No!” Xavier gripped her arm fiercely. “You’ll do no such thing.” He was as taken aback by his vehemence as she was. He released her, muttering, “Not that it is any of my concern.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed, rubbing her arm. “But you needn’t worry. My brother Ned often accused me of being a saint, but I am not. Far from it. I fear I am not good or holy enough to embrace such a quiet existence.

“Perhaps because part of me believes there ought to be more to life than merely finding peace, that there is still the hope of discovering great joy and happiness as well. But not if one seeks solitude within a convent or even on the deck of a ship.”

She smiled wryly up at him. “So before you make up your mind to live out the rest of your days alone, Captain Xavier, perhaps you should look more closely at the gift your sisters would offer you. It is a very precious one.”

IT WAS EARLY EVENING BEFORE XAVIER FOUND AN OPPORTUNE
moment to steal into the shed where Ariane stabled her ponies. Most of the women were busy serving up supper or readying the children for bed. Even Jane had been hustled away by Meg, the girl insisting that she needed Jane’s help in mending a tear in her petticoat
right now
.

It was but another of Meg’s obvious ploys to draw Jane away from him, but Xavier hadn’t minded. It had given him the opportunity he needed as well, to explore his possibilities for escape.

As his vision adjusted to the gloom of the shed, he studied the two ponies tied in their stalls. The roan was the one that had been employed to cart firewood up to the cliffs and would not be well rested. From the way he flattened back his ears at the sight of Xavier, he appeared to be an ill-tempered brute as well.

The dapple gray, however, cocked his head and whickered, almost as though inviting Xavier to come closer. The shed was small enough that he easily spotted where the tack was stored. Saddling the pony was going to prove difficult, as was leading it away from the village without being seen.

But Xavier figured he would manage somehow. It was not the thought of either of those challenges that caused him to hesitate, rather the memory of Jane’s words.

“You should look more closely at the gift your sisters would offer you. It is a very precious one.”

And perhaps it would be for a different kind of man. Xavier had sailed with a wide array of crewmates over the years, from fresh-faced cabin boys to old tars who had been aboard ship so long, they had salt water instead of blood in their veins.

But no matter how well they loved the sea, how eager they became at the prospect of anchoring in their home port. Rushing off to a joyous reunion with wives, children, brothers, sisters, cousins, while Xavier had either remained on deck or gotten quietly drunk in some lonely inn room.