“Why am I not surprised? Come in, then.”
Chapter 40
I rolled down the window and took a deep breath. The air was so fresh, it almost made me dizzy. I could see the Black Cuillins in the distance, looking stark and forbidding against the blue sky, the hills a rolling sea of purple, covered by the blooming heather which looked like a giant blanket. We’d been on this road for nearly half an hour and had seen no one, save an insolent flock of black-faced sheep crossing the road with a loud jingling of bells. I felt as if we’d entered another world, where the nature was wild and unpredictable, and the people rugged and few.
I still couldn’t believe that I had agreed to come to Scotland with Adrian. Under normal circumstances I would’ve refused immediately, but these were not normal circumstances. Adrian tried to persuade me by saying that I needed to get out of London, and he had been so right. As soon as we left the suburbs of the city behind, I began to feel better. Suddenly, things didn’t seem as bleak, and I realized that I was greatly looking forward to seeing the Highlands. I’d been on a holiday in Scotland with my family years ago when I was still at school, but we never made it that far north. This place was a far cry from the Lowlands. When I looked around, it was as if modern life had never come here. The endless sky and the mountains looked just as primitive as they did during the time of the Druids, and I almost expected a ragged looking band of Highland cattle thieves to come galloping over the mountains, their broadswords at their sides.
All through the journey, Adrian and I chatted easily, feeling relaxed in each other’s company. He told me all about his friend, Graham McGee, whom we were going to visit, and his beautiful house overlooking Loch Morar. They had known each other in the Middle East, and Graham had a package for Adrian sent by a mutual friend. I asked him if he’d ever heard of a fine invention called the Royal Mail, but he just laughed and said he felt like taking a road trip. We covered many subjects, but never touched on the one I really wanted to discuss. Why was I there? What made Adrian ask me of all people to come to Scotland with him? Was he just feeling sorry for me due to my current situation or was there another motive? I felt foolish just asking him, so I went on blabbering about my childhood and my years at Oxford rather than ask him for the truth.
I was glad when Adrian pulled over at a petrol station to fill the tank of his Land Rover. I could use a trip to the loo and a chance to stretch my legs. We’d been in the car since early this morning, and I was tired of sitting. I came out of the rest room to find Adrian already back at the car. He bought us some cold drinks and there was something in the shopping bag. I pulled a sweater out of my overnight case, glad to have brought it. The temperatures were distinctly cooler here. I reluctantly climbed back into the car and put on my seatbelt as we pulled away from the gas station. I noticed Adrian fumbling in the bag with one hand while steering with the other.
“What are you looking for?”
“This,” Adrian answered triumphantly as he pulled out a bar of chocolate. I burst out laughing. “So, this is the contraband you smuggled out of the store? I had no idea you like chocolate.”
“It’s my one weakness,” he admitted with a very serious face.
“Oh, just the one is it? There’s nothing else you care to confess?”
He turned toward me and gave me a slow once-over, then turned back to the road. “It’s not my only weakness, but it’s the only one I’m actually willing to admit at the moment.” I suddenly felt very warm and pulled off my sweater again. He chuckled, but didn’t say anything, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth instead, and offering me the other half of the chocolate bar.
“What a gentleman,” I said, taking the offering.
“Always.”
We made it to Graham’s house by late afternoon. The house was indeed beautiful. It looked like a miniature castle with turrets and towers overlooking the stunning vista of loch and mountains. Graham was a jolly fellow in his late forties who didn’t bat an eyelash at Adrian bringing along a woman, and asking for separate rooms. I was shown to a lovely room on the second floor with a view of the loch. The furniture was all antique with a huge four-poster bed and a carved dresser. The room must have at one time belonged to a woman because the dusty rose curtains and hangings of the bed were very beautiful and feminine. The cherry wood of the furniture was polished to a shine, and I could still smell the faint traces of polish trapped in the fibers of the rug. I opened the window, and the rose curtains began to flutter in the breeze, filling the room with the sounds of insects and birds.
Graham and Adrian had disappeared into the study, so I took the time to take a shower and change before dinner. Graham told me proudly that he shot dinner himself just that morning, and I made all the appropriate noises of approval, trying not to picture a bloody carcass being hauled into the old-fashioned kitchen. Despite the disturbing image, the venison was delicious, served with roast potatoes and a vegetable medley from Graham’s own garden, accompanied by a full-bodied red wine from his extensive wine cellar. I could tell that Graham McGee liked to live well. He excused himself after dinner, leaving Adrian and I to our own devices for a few hours.
We walked out of the house to a short pier that jutted out into the loch. The fiery orb of the sun was just beginning to sink behind the mountains in the distance, painting the sky with bands of fuchsia and gold, the surface of the loch a mirror held up to the sky to reflect its glory. The first stars of the evening were just beginning to shyly twinkle in the twilight sky, and the warmth of the day was being replaced by a fresh breeze off the mountains. I was glad I brought a light jacket and zipped it up, as I watched the shifting light of the sunset play on the tranquil water.
I’m not sure what made me do it, but I turned to Adrian and blurted out the question that had been bothering me the whole way up here. “Adrian, what am I doing here?” He turned to me giving me a lazy smile. “You’re watching a glorious Highland sunset.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I said accusingly.
“I know,” he said looking out over the loch. As I watched him, his face got grayer somehow, and when he turned to me his gray eyes looked almost black in the twilight. He looked at me for a long moment and then turned back towards the loch. When he spoke, his voice was so low I could barely hear him.
“I lost someone very dear to me four years ago. I honestly thought I would never recover, and then I met you and suddenly life was full of possibilities again, except you were already involved with someone else. Then fate presented me with an opportunity and I grabbed it with both hands. I know you’re not ready for a new relationship right now, but when you are, I’ll be right there waiting.”
“Who did you lose? Will you tell me about it?”
He didn’t look at me. It’s as if he was talking to the sky and the silent loch. I just listened quietly, letting him do it his way.
“My fiancée and I were on assignment in Afghanistan. We were driving through the desert when Kitty asked me to stop. We were passing the ruins of a village, and she spotted hungry, barefoot kids hiding behind the demolished walls afraid to come out. They were orphans looking for food, and Kitty was moved by their plight. She took out her camera and set out across the desert toward the village. I was a few feet behind her when the explosion knocked me out and threw me half way across the field. Kitty had stepped on a land mine. When I woke up in a field hospital, I had a torn shoulder and a broken leg, but Kitty had been blown to pieces. There wasn’t even a body to bury, just scraps of bloody muscle and bone scattered over the rocks.
I never told anyone, but she was six weeks pregnant. She’d just told me a few days before and I begged her to go back home where she’d be safe. She promised that she would go by the end of the following week once we got back to Kabul. I woke up in that hospital concussed, banged up, but very much alive, and hated myself for surviving. It should have been me that died, not her. I should have gone first, but I stopped to take a shot of the mountains, letting
her walk ahead of me.
I gave the doctor a hard time, refusing treatment, and raging at everyone, until he handed me his gun and left me alone. He knew I wouldn’t do it. I held that gun for a long time, but I realized I wanted to live. I owed it to her to live. So, eventually I healed and left the hospital, taking more assignments and turning into the hard, bitter bastard whom you met in March. When I trashed your book and saw how deeply I’d wounded you, I felt awful, and suddenly I realized that I was actually feeling again. I want to keep on feeling, Cassandra. I want to live and I want to love and be loved, and I want it to be by you.”
I was speechless. I knew exactly who Kitty Parker had been. It was all over the news when she died in Afghanistan. I remembered the picture of a petite blond with expressive dark eyes and a wide smile. She looked straight into the camera wearing khakis and a military jacket with a camera in her hands, the blazing sun of the Middle East baking the desert behind her. Her photographs had captivated the nation, and she was mourned by the whole country. She’d been only twenty-three. I didn’t say anything, just came up behind Adrian and wrapped my arms around his waist, letting him know I was there. He covered my hands with his own, and we stood like that watching the darkness descend on the world around us.
Chapter 41
By the time we came back into the house Graham returned from his errand and was rubbing his hands in anticipation of a drink. I said a quick goodnight and headed up to my room, leaving the men to it. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I needed time to think. Three hours later I was still lying awake, staring at the canopy of my pretty bed in the darkness, trying to talk myself out of what I really wanted to do. I heard Adrian come up about an hour ago, and knew exactly which room was his. Another quarter of an hour passed before I finally lost the argument with myself and got out of bed. I walked softly to the door and peered out into the hallway to make sure there was no one about. I’m not sure who I was expecting to see, since the only people in the house were Graham and his housekeeper, who both had rooms on the third floor. I strongly suspected their rooms had an adjoining door, but I kept that to myself.
I tiptoed to Adrian’s room and knocked softly. There was no answer, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. I slipped inside and closed the door behind me. Whiskey fumes hit me as soon as I entered the room, and I wondered if Adrian was in any condition to receive me, when I saw him sprawled on the huge bed -- sound asleep. He was wearing loose pajama bottoms, and I could see the outline of his body clearly in the moonlight. He was breathing evenly; his arm flung across the comforter which was bunched off to the side. I told myself to just turn around and go back, but I found myself standing over Adrian and watching him sleep. I reached out and caressed his face, whispering his name. Adrian’s eyes fluttered open and he saw me.
“Cassandra, are you all right?” His speech was a little slurred, but otherwise he seemed coherent. I bent down and gently kissed him, letting him know why I was there. Adrian’s reaction was spontaneous. He lifted me off the floor and flipped me onto my back, rolling on top of me and pinning down my wrists, his mouth coming down on mine, hungry and demanding. I’d slept with Tristan for the past three years and had another boyfriend before him, but I’d never experienced the lightning bolt of desire that shot through my body. I had no idea what came over me, but I reached down and pulled down Adrian’s pants, wrapping my legs around him, making my intentions clear. He tore off my underwear and gave me what I came for. I could feel his whiskey breath on my face, and I grabbed his hips, urging him on. I wanted him to be rough with me, to match my frenzied need for him. He understood, and pinned my wrists down again, thrusting hard and fast. I think I literally felt the earth move as I lost all ability to think, matching Adrian’s rhythm until we both reached the heights of ecstasy. As he rolled off me, we were both panting, my legs shaking as badly as my insides. He covered his face with his hand, fully awake now.
“Cassandra, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to...” He trailed off not knowing exactly how to phrase it.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s what I wanted.” I felt no shame in admitting that to him, and he gave me a teasing smile. “Will you be expecting that every time or do you want to mix it up a little?” I could already feel him growing hard again against my thigh as he bent down to kiss me. “Why don’t you surprise me next time?” He did.
Chapter 42
September 1586
When Constance woke up on the morning of September 3, she had no idea that life was about to change forever. It was a glorious morning, with the sun shining through the shutters, and birds singing their hearts out in joyous tribute to the golden autumn day. Connie felt a little queasy, but she dressed and went downstairs to break her fast. Usually a slice of bread helped with the nausea and kept it at bay until luncheon. Richard had already gone. Walsingham had put him on a new inquiry having something to do with the fearsome Armada that the Spanish were assembling, and he had been working tirelessly trying to gather information about the quantity and types of vessels being amassed.
Connie was just finishing her breakfast with William, who was asking numerous questions about the Royal Navy, when a frenzied banging on the door brought her to her feet. Agnes was already opening the door by the time Connie ran out of the kitchen to face her frantic sister. Pippa was wild-eyed and incoherent, as she threw herself into Connie’s arms crying and babbling something about Richard. Connie took her into Richard’s study and closed the door after asking Agnes to bring Pippa a cup of ale. Pippa refused to sit, but paced the room like a caged animal, trying to speak between bouts of tears. Agnes brought the ale and Connie forced Pippa to drink the entire cup, before taking her by the shoulders and forcing her to concentrate. Pippa finally gathered her wits and told Connie the dreadful news.
“Oh, Connie, I was just coming downstairs this morning to break my fast when I heard Master Milton speaking to his wife. He was most distressed, and I stopped outside, not wanting to disturb them. I wasn’t really listening until I overheard Anthony’s name, and then I put my ear to the door. I know it was wrong, but I just had to know. I had to. The master said that a number of Walsingham’s men had shown up at Anthony’s house in Dethick early in the morning and dragged him from his bed. They arrested him in the name of the Queen and charged him with God only knows what. He has been taken to the Tower for questioning. Oh, Connie, you know what that means, don’t you? He will be beaten and tortured until they break him, just like they did with Lord Devon. You must get Richard to set him free like he did with Tom. He will, won’t he?” Pippa was crying again, her hands covering her flushed face.
Connie drew her sister to her and held her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words. She didn’t think Richard could do anything, but she wouldn’t tell her sister that just yet. She needed to calm her down first. As Constance held Pippa close, she felt a sudden movement against her belly. It was a weak kick, but a kick all the same. Connie looked down, confused. Pippa’s gown was unfashionably high-waisted and she was still wearing her cloak, but now that Constance was looking at it directly, she could see that her belly was swollen and high. The truth hit her like a bucket of cold water and she held Pippa away from herself, looking her full in the face.
“Pippa, are you with child?”
Pippa burst into hysterics once again and buried her face in Connie’s shoulder, nodding vigorously.
“Oh, my dear. What are we going to do?” Connie stroked Pippa’s head in an effort to soothe her, her own tears running freely down her cheeks. Even if Babington was released unharmed, the situation was dire. His wife was alive and well, and Pippa was at least five months gone. She would not be able to hide the pregnancy much longer.
“Go home to Carter Lane, my darling. I will speak to Richard as soon as he comes back and I will come to see you. Do not say anything to Tom or Jane about the child. Just try to rest and stay calm. Not all is lost.” Constance knew that she was lying through her teeth, but she h
ad no choice. Phillipa had to calm down, and stay out of sight until she could speak with Richard. He would know what to do. He always did. Connie summoned John and asked him to take Pippa to Carter Lane, giving him a note to take to the master. Richard would come home as soon as he heard, and they would work out a plan. Maybe they could send Pippa to Richard’s sister, Charlotte, until the child was born. Richard always spoke very kindly of her, and said she was an understanding and sympathetic woman.
Constance tried to stay calm, but by the time Richard finally came home, she was almost as hysterical as Pippa. His mouth was set in a grim line and he motioned her into the study and closed the door before finally speaking.
“Anthony Babington has been arrested, along with thirteen other conspirators on the charge of plotting to murder the Queen. I was not part of the investigation, but I know that they have enough evidence to convict them all, and possibly even Mary Stuart herself. This might be the thing that finally gets the Queen to sign Mary’s death warrant. If Phillipa’s association with Babington comes to light, we will all be in danger. She needs to leave London as quickly as possible before they begin to suspect her of any wrongdoing.”
“Richard, Pippa is with child.” Richard did not look very surprised.
“That is all the more reason. I will write her a letter of introduction to my sister and we will send her up north. She might escape notice there, and stay until the child is born. Charlotte can help arrange for a quiet adoption. Pippa must not keep the child. It would be her undoing.”
“She will be devastated. She is only sixteen and she loves him,” Connie said quietly.
“I know, sweeting, but there is no choice. Any association with Babington can mean death for us all. Walsingham means to question Milton very soon. Pippa must not go back there.”
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