Cornelia nodded her encouragement.
The boy continued, “He wants to know where Lord Moss will take you for your ... honey ...”
“Honeymoon?” Cornelia cast a glance at Moss, her own face flushed.
Swany nodded, looking nervous again.
“And once you report back to Musk,” she said, “what is he going to give you?”
“A loaf of bread,” Swany said.
Cornelia didn’t say anything for a moment, then she spoke in a soft tone. “If you report back what I tell you to say, then I will give you bread every day. Isn’t that right, Lord Moss?” Her gaze was back on him.
“Of—of course,” Moss said, clearing his throat. He crouched to look the boy in the eyes. “Do you know what a counterspy is?”
A wrinkle appeared between Swany’s eyebrows.
“It means that you keep Musk believing you’re a spy for him, but truly, you’re a spy for me.”
“Do you think this will truly work?” Moss asked Cornelia.
“It has to,” she whispered, scanning the looming trees beyond them. They were currently hiding behind a hedgerow as they waited for Swany to return from reporting to Musk.
They’d followed the boy through the garden to the forest beyond. Cornelia had donned her wig again and brought her veil in case they should come across any of the wedding guests. Swany had informed Moss of the agreed-upon meeting place with Musk, yet Cornelia didn’t want to get too close. The boy would report to Musk where she and Lord Moss would honeymoon, and then they’d be ready for whatever attack was about to take place. Lord Moss had already dispatched his most trusted guards to the location, where they’d wait in hiding.
There wasn’t much to see, since the forest was dark with the night, and when the form of a small boy emerged from the trees, Cornelia grasped Moss’s arm. Swany wasn’t alone.
He walked with a tall man, dressed in dark colors.
“Do you know him?” Cornelia whispered to her husband.
Moss tone was gruff when he replied. “Yes. His name is Bourbon, and he’s my mother’s lover.”
Cornelia had been introduced to many people throughout the day, and she wasn’t sure who the man was, but she’d met Lady Alba. “Are you sure?” she whispered.
Moss put his hand over hers; his fingers were cool in the night air. “Can you hear his thoughts?”
“I will try,” she murmured. Then she closed her eyes, the touch of Moss’s hand on hers propelling her on. First, she heard Swany’s thoughts. He was nervous and scared, yet he was looking forward to eating more food at the garden lodge, which made Cornelia want to smile.
She steadied her breathing and moved her mind beyond the young boy’s thoughts of food and focused on the man next to him. She heard a low rumbling, discontented words, and dissatisfaction directed toward Swany.
Cornelia snapped her eyes open. The man named Bourbon didn’t trust Swany. Something had happened, or perhaps the boy had somehow revealed his deceit. Whatever it was, Bourbon was not planning on letting Swany get away with anything.
“Moss,” Cornelia whispered. “Bourbon knows that Swany has tricked him. Whatever trap we lay for him, he will be ready to counteract.”
Moss reached for the dagger he’d strapped to his thigh. “We will end this now.”
“Wait,” Cornelia said. She had no doubt that Lord Moss was an able fighter, but Bourbon’s thoughts were now tumbling into her mind. “There’s someone else. A mastermind. Bourbon is only part of the game.”
Moss darted a glance at her, and she held up a hand as she listened. “He has a rendezvous with her tonight.”
“A woman?” Moss said. “Are you sure?”
“I am sure.” Cornelia met his gaze beneath the moonlight. He still gripped her hand, and although she couldn’t read his mind, she felt the tension radiating from him.
The two of them watched as Bourbon and Swany separated in the forest, Swany hurrying back to the garden lodge. Bourbon continued on whatever path he was following, which brought him a few paces closer to the hedgerow, then away again.
After his form had disappeared into the night again, Moss said, “What woman would be powerful enough to command a man such as Bourbon?”
By the way his eyes widened, Cornelia knew that he’d made the deduction at the same moment as her. But surely his own mother wouldn’t plot against Moss.
“I could be mistaken,” she said in a stilted whisper.
“You were sure a moment ago.”
She blinked. “Yes.”
Moss held her gaze for a moment, then he lifted his hands and placed them on either side of her face. In the garden lodge, Cornelia had wondered if Moss was about to kiss her, but now that they were completely alone, and he was so earnestly gazing at her, she sensed his thoughts were far from anything romantic.
“Can I trust you, Cornelia Rose?” Moss whispered in a fierce tone.
And in his gaze, she saw his desire to trust her and the hope he clung to. She’d only met this man, this husband of hers, this morning, but already, her heart was becoming involved. He had been nothing but open and honest with her. And now, his very life was threatened by his own mother.
Somehow, some way, Cornelia wanted to protect this man from more heartache.
“You can trust me, husband,” she said, hoping that he would know she spoke the absolute truth.
He gazed at her for a long moment, his hands still cradling her face, as if he wanted to dispel all of his doubts.
She slowly raised her hands and placed them over his.
His gaze intensified, and the only sound was their shared breathing.
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered.
After a small pause, Moss said, “Go to my mother’s chambers. Listen in as long as you can. If you are discovered, say that you’ve lost your way. Discover Bourbon’s thoughts. Find out if the woman he speaks of is my mother.”
Cornelia gave the smallest nod. “And if it is?”
The edges of his mouth tightened. “Then I will put her on trial for treason.”
The breath hissed out of Cornelia, and she nodded.
He lowered his hands.
“I will go now.” Cornelia rose to her feet and straightened the cloak she wore over her wedding gown. “There’s no telling how long Bourbon will wait before putting his plans into action against Swany.”
Moss stood, his expression mixed with anger and determination. “I’ll take you to one of the back entrances.” As they walked toward the castle, they didn’t speak.
By the time they reached the door that connected the castle to the gardens, Cornelia’s pulse was drumming with nerves.
Moss pulled on the latch, then turned to her. “Take my dagger with you.” He pressed the hilt of the knife into her palm. “Be careful.”
She knew the action meant he wholly trusted her. At last. He’d just given her a weapon, making him an unarmed man now. She looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze.
“I will,” she whispered.
Then he stepped closer, so that his tall form loomed over hers, and before she could think of what he meant by it, he pulled her against him.
He leaned down and pressed his lips upon hers, softly.
Cornelia had never been kissed, and as his mouth moved against hers, fire raced through her body. And she wanted more. With her free hand, she grasped the lapel of his jacket, pulling him even closer, tasting him as he was tasting her. The night was no longer cool, the danger seemed far away, and any reservations about becoming this man’s wife were forgotten. Her heart raced, her skin buzzed, and her thoughts swirled.
All too soon, Moss released her. “You must go now,” he rasped. “I will be waiting at the garden lodge with Swany.”
He stepped back as if he was trying to keep distance between them.
Cornelia’s mind had not quite floated back to reality yet. She took a couple of deep breaths. “I will be swift.”
She turned from him then, because the urge
ncy in his eyes made her want to hurry, though the desire in them made her want to stay.
Cornelia hurried inside, leaving him behind and following the directions he’d given her. She passed by a couple of servants who looked surprised to see her, but no one tried to stop her. Surely they recognized her as the blond woman who’d married Lord Moss.
Once she reached the corridor of Lady Alba’s chambers, Cornelia breathed more freely. This plan would work; it had to. She stopped outside the blue door that Moss had described, then quieted her breathing so she could hear what was going on inside. The moments passed slowly, but there were no sounds from within. Was she too late?
“Well, well, what do we have here?” a deep voice said.
Ten minutes passed, then ten more. When Cornelia had been gone for an entire half hour, Moss decided he’d waited long enough. He’d stayed at the door that led to the garden, but there had been no sign of her return.
Was he being unreasonable? What if she was in the middle of a heart-to-heart with his mother? It didn’t matter. Because the possibility of his mother being behind the assassination attempts infuriated him. Disgusted him.
Moss opened the garden door and stepped into the dank hallway. The dimness was brighter than it had been outside, so he had no trouble navigating the hallways. He took the steps of the back stairway two at a time until he reached the floor where his mother’s chambers were.
The corridor was silent, and perhaps that should have been a warning, but Moss pressed on.
He wanted to see his wife. He wanted to assure himself that she was all right.
When he neared the set of blue doors, a form stepped out of the shadows.
“Bourbon,” Moss said. Maybe he should have been surprised to see that man lurking, but nothing surprised him now.
“Lord Moss,” Bourbon said in his deep voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” His tone was a scraping sound against stone, and Moss involuntarily shivered.
“I am seeking my bride,” Moss said. “Have you seen her?” He tried to keep his words calm, bored even, but he could tell Bourbon wasn’t fooled for a minute.
“You’ve come to the right place.” Bourbon nodded toward the door. “Step inside. Your mother is waiting for her loyal son, and your wife is waiting for her devoted husband.”
A chill crept along Moss’s spine. This was surely a trap. One he’d already stepped into. He had no dagger, no way to defend himself, save the strength of his own body. Yet he opened the door and walked into his mother’s chambers.
The sight of what he found nearly took his breath away.
Cornelia was bound and gagged. Her blond wig had been discarded, her cloak removed. Her eyes widened as their gazes connected.
Behind her stood his mother, the dagger in her hand—the one he’d given Cornelia.
“What’s going on?” he said, tone seething.
His mother laughed. “You’re cleverer than I gave you credit for, my dear. Bringing in this minx to fool us all.”
The door shut behind Moss, and Bourbon latched it.
Moss looked from his mother to Bourbon, then to Cornelia. “She is no minx,” Moss said. “She signed her true name on the wedding contract, and she is my wife. So tell me why you are treating her like chattel and why you want me dead.”
His mother’s green eyes flashed. “You are direct.”
He scoffed. “What other course is there?”
Bourbon folded his arms, keeping his defiant stance by the door.
“Is my very existence so abhorrent to you?” Moss asked his mother.
“Your existence has been tolerable,” his mother said. “Until I met Bourbon.”
The man had the audacity to grin.
“We have plans for the Isle that don’t include you,” his mother continued.
He should have felt like he’d been punched, but instead he felt the numbness of disbelief.
“If I die,” he said, “then my cousin will inherit.”
“If you die,” his mother said in a smooth tone, “the people will side with the grieving mother and widow. The people will stand with us, and we’ll win against any army or resistance brought against us.”
Moss stared at the woman who’d borne him. “You seem so sure. How long have you been planning this?”
“Two years,” his mother said in a triumphant voice. “Once I built a tolerance to nightroot, it was just a matter of getting your father to take the draft that I’d prepared for him.”
This revelation jolted through Moss. “You poisoned Father?”
His mother didn’t even look remorseful.
Moss’s mind reeled. Lies. So many things had been lies.
Bourbon stepped closer, and Moss stiffened. He might not be able to read the man’s mind, but there was no doubt the man was ready to follow any command of Moss’s mother.
“What do you want from me, Mother?” Moss ground out.
“I want you gone,” she said in a steady tone. “Whether you go into exile or fall at the hands of one of my assassins, it doesn’t matter to me.”
It took Moss only a moment to decide. “Release my wife, and we will disappear.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cornelia strain against her bindings. She didn’t agree, but Moss could see no other way right now. He was outnumbered, and—
The door burst open, and Moss spun to see Swany, Portland, and several men step into the room. And they were armed.
But Moss didn’t have time to feel relieved, because Bourbon was already charging the men with his dagger raised. His mother moved behind Cornelia and pressed another dagger at her neck.
The time for discussion had ended, and Moss could only hope that Providence would be with him and that his mother wouldn’t harm Cornelia while he enacted his desperate plan. Leaving Portland, Swany, and the others to fend off Bourbon, he slipped behind his mother and grasped the hand with the dagger.
She whirled on him and plunged the dagger toward him. Her strength was greater than he could have anticipated, so the dagger scraped along his arm before he was able to wrest it away.
She screamed for Bourbon, calling him Musk, but Moss captured her arms behind her back.
“Swany!” Moss called out, and in a moment, the boy was by his side. “Untie Cornelia, and I will use the bands.”
The boy made quick work of untying the bands, then he handed them to Moss.
Once his mother was secured, both wrists and ankles bound, Moss looked toward the other skirmish. Portland overpowered Bourbon, and more guards had arrived.
“Put him in the dungeon,” Moss commanded. Then he looked down at his mother. Her mouth trembled, but her gaze was fiery. He took a deep breath and said the words he’d never thought he’d say. “Take my mother to the dungeons too. She is a traitor to the Isle of Rose.”
Cornelia had been like a prisoner herself. No, not in the dungeon beneath the castle, but confined to the luxurious chambers that belonged to her new husband. She had not seen him the rest of the night as he met with his council.
She had not seen him all the next day, not when she bade farewell to her parents and tried to answer their questions. Cornelia hadn’t seen Moss when meals were brought to her. She’d tried to read, she’d tried to write, but she couldn’t focus on anything. So she’d paced, eaten a little, and slept intermittently. And now as evening fell once again, Cornelia was still alone. Still without word from Moss.
So when the door to the chamber cracked open, she looked over, expecting a servant.
“Moss,” she said as he strode toward her.
The darkness beneath his eyes was proof of his exhaustion, but there was also triumph in his green gaze. He’d shed his jacket at some point, and he wore his sleeves rolled up.
Cornelia rose from the chair by the window, unsure what to say to him first. She had so many questions.
He continued to walk toward her, his gaze moving over her face.
“You are well?” he asked, stopping in front of her.
<
br /> He was asking her? “I am well,” she said. “What about you? What has happened?”
Moss exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. He looked toward the window and the darkening landscape beyond. “The trial is over, and my mother and her co-conspirator have been exiled to separate principalities.” His gaze found hers again. “If you hadn’t heard Bourbon’s thoughts the other night, I don’t know what would have happened. We certainly wouldn’t be standing here, free from threats.”
Cornelia could only hope. She took a step toward him and touched his arm. “Are we truly free?”
“As free as we can expect to be,” Moss said, his other hand folding over hers. “Cornelia,” he continued in a quiet voice. “We will always have to be on our guard. There will always be those who want our power and wish us ill. Are you ready to live such a life with me? Or have you packed your bags already?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’ve sent my parents home, and I’ve done nothing but wait for you because I wanted to know you were safe.”
His lips curved into a smile, but his gaze was sober. “I am pleased to hear that, and perhaps we could forget the outside world and its dangers for a short time.”
She nodded, feeling numb, but also allowing some relief and joy to creep in.
Her husband clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. After pressing a kiss there, he said, “I am grateful for you, dear Cornelia. Providence has brought us together, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Cornelia’s pulse drummed as Moss released her hand, then cradled her face with his hands. A slow heat began where he was touching her, spreading throughout the rest of her body, and she remembered how he’d kissed her in the garden.
Looking into his eyes now, she knew that she too was grateful that he was here, wanting her to be his wife.
Cornelia placed her hands on his chest, feeling the thump of his heart. She was nervous, yet she also wanted to be closer to him.
“I am pleased to be your wife, Moss,” she said.
He smiled then, and his eyes glittered as he gazed at her. “Truly?”
Midsummer Night Page 17
