Silver Enchantress

by Patricia Rice

  “You’re wounded! Let me take you inside and send for a physician. I’ll send word—”

  Drake placed a finger across her lips. “It’s not serious. You must tell no one you saw me. I just wanted you to know. . .” It was his turn to let a sentence die. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Years of survival did not fail her now. Whipping on her cloak and pulling up the hood to cover her face, Eileen indicated Drake do the same.

  “We’ll go in the back way. If anyone sees, they’ll think you’re Quigley’s mother. She often brings me herbs and flowers. Take my basket.” She shoved the half-filled wicker into Drake’s hands. The pungent scent of leaves passed with it.

  “Eileen, I cannot endanger your family like this. There’s an army of soldiers down the road searching for me. You do not understand the danger. I must go.”

  With one glance at the etched lines of weariness in his face, she shook her head. “No, I don’t understand, but there’s no time to argue. There’s a priest hole in the cellars. Even Uncle John has forgotten it. You can rest while I send Quigley to the coast. I have friends there who will not ask questions.”

  “Eileen, I cannot. . .”

  Without waiting to see if he followed, Eileen hurried down the muddy path toward home. Her blood sang as she lifted her skirts and hurried over the well-worn road. He lived! He lived and he had come to her! Finally, finally and at long last, he understood. If not, she would make him see. Just wait.

  As they reached the lawn around the kitchen garden, Eileen motioned Drake to slow down. It would seem odd should Mrs. Quigley move quickly. The old lady never hurried.

  Drake was much too large for the part, but if he bent over slightly. . . Again Eileen gestured and Drake complied. They did not need words. They understood each other now as perfectly as they had that first time. With nerve-racking slowness they ambled across the yard.

  No one paid them any heed as they entered the kitchen door. Eileen was as at home in the back of the house as the front, and the servants knew she would not disturb them in the midst of dinner preparations.

  Cautiously Eileen peered around the corner, then gestured for Drake to follow. The butler used this corridor to the wine cellar, but few traversed it otherwise. The door was closed and the butler nowhere in sight. They edged from the light of the upper halls to the chill damp of the cellar stairs.

  “This is madness, Eileen. You’ll break your neck in those skirts,” Drake protested as the cellar door closed and darkness engulfed them.

  With the ease of practice, Eileen struck a flint against the stone wall and ignited a torch in the bracket beside the door. Drake took it from her hand so she could manage her skirts.

  She led him through a maze of crumbling stone and timber into the old keep.

  “Your housekeeping must be extraordinarily diligent,” Drake said wryly, “To remove dust and cobwebs in a cellar.”

  She laughed. “Did you think me truly a fairy to disappear at will? I know how to sweep.”

  “And how to hide,” he added with a touch of acerbity.

  She halted at a stretch of wall unblocked by old crates and barrels. She pressed her fingers along a line of stones, and a crack appeared in the wall. A moment later the stones swung inward, revealing a dark cavern behind.

  With the torch held high, Drake examined the wooden structure that held the hiding place together. “It seems safe enough, although I could wish you didn’t visit often. Old timbers have a way of crumbling.”

  “They’ve stood for hundreds of years.” Eileen waited impatiently as he examined the tiny fireplace, the windowless walls, the stark cot, table, and chair. In a prior century a priest may have cowered here, waiting for the stamp of Cromwell’s army to pass overhead. Perhaps smugglers had stored their loot here for distribution. Whatever its prior uses, it offered a safe haven for now.

  “The grate opens into the great chimney above. There is no danger in using it.” Eileen indicated a small stack of kindling she had gathered against a rainy day. Today’s downpour suited the purpose. “Take off those wet clothes and I will try to find you some dry ones.”

  Avoiding the look on Drake’s face, Eileen left. The pain and bitterness she had seen in his eyes hurt her to the quick. The Drake she knew had the whole world in his hand and laughed about it. This new Drake needed her, but the notion made her uneasy, as if looking at the world while hanging upside-down from a tree limb.

  Leaning against the wall, Drake watched Eileen’s slight figure flit through the opening and disappear. She had lit a small torch on the wall, so the chamber did not fall into complete darkness with the closing of the door. A great weariness made him wish for the bed, but he set his jaw and remained standing.

  Following her sound advice, he removed his drenched clothing, wincing as the blood-soaked shirt pulled away the clotted blood on his wound. Wrapping himself in the old sheet and blanket from the cot, Drake finally allowed himself the pleasure of sitting while he lit a fire. Warmth was a luxury he had not learned to appreciate so well as he did now.

  By the time Eileen returned, Drake had a fire crackling while his clothes steamed over the chair and table. The room smelled of unwashed linen.

  “I have sent Quigley to the coast to arrange for a boat,” she said upon entering. “There is time for you to eat and rest.”

  From the basket on her arm she produced a small bottle of rum, which Drake accepted gladly. A large gulp warmed him from the inside, and he developed more interest in the rest of the basket contents.

  “I smell chicken. You wouldn’t happen to have. . .” Eileen produced a small roast capon, and he sighed happily. “I always knew you were a magic faerie. I’ll not inquire into the source of your riches.”

  “Your sense of the ridiculous has not failed,” Eileen said with a smile. “It is too early in the season for apples. I had to find something else to distract you.”

  Drake caressed a still-damp curl clinging to her cheek. The silver of her eyes hid her secrets. It was better to keep a neutral distance. “You have always known how to distract me, princess. I’ll not return your favors by bringing danger down upon your head. As soon as Quigley returns, I will leave, but I will not forget.”

  Eileen nodded evasively. “Sit, and let me wrap that wound.”

  Drake did as told, sipping on the rum as she sponged the caked blood from his shoulder. The wound was not deep, but it had bled copiously, and the constant use of those muscles had taken its toll. She packed the wound with lint and wrapped strips of linen around his shoulder.

  Drake accepted the old shirt of Sir John’s she had brought for him to wear. He pulled it over his head with difficulty with one arm wrapped tightly. Eileen came to his aid, and he found himself in the odd position of being dressed by a woman. As his head emerged from the linen, he winked at her.

  “You are a horrible man, Lord Sherburne,” she informed him. “For the way you have terrified your sister, you ought to be horsewhipped through the streets. But I’ll give you time to polish your story while I return to Aunt Emma for tea.”

  Before she could escape, Drake caught her by the arm and twisted her around. “What is wrong with Diane?”

  Eileen eyed him suspiciously. “What did you think would happen when you disappeared for weeks without a word? She is hysterical.”

  “I wrote every chance I had. I left her a message. . .” Drake paled and dropped her arm. “Edmund.”

  “Yes, Edmund. I warned you of trusting too much. It killed my father. At least you’re still alive, though I can’t imagine how. Eat and rest. I won’t be able to return for a while.”

  This time he let her go. One blow after another, and soon he would not be able to stand on his own two feet. Drake reached for the chair and lowered himself into it. Perhaps with a little food and rest he would be able to make sense of it all.

  By the time Eileen returned later that evening, she found Drake fast asleep upon the narrow cot. The fire had warmed the little room, and he had disc
arded the old shirt. She studied his broad, muscular shoulders and blanket-covered hips, but entered and closed the door. The wild thunder and lightning outside could scarcely be heard down here.

  Just her slight movement as she tidied up the remains of his dinner was sufficient to rouse Drake from his troubled slumber. Wrapping the blanket about his loins, he rose from the bed.

  Eileen continued clearing the table, ignoring the tall man towering over her—until he touched her shoulder with a gentle hand.

  She swung around then, and the look in his eyes was such that she could not have refused him had he asked for the moon. When his arms clasped her in his hold, she melted into them.

  He held her like that, resting his head on her hair. “Has Quigley returned?” Drake asked.

  “No boats can go out tonight.” Eileen whispered against his chest. “There will be one waiting as soon as the storm abates.”

  “Then I had better leave. I owe Sir John too much to put his lands and family in jeopardy.”

  Aware that she rested against the wide expanse of chest of a man who wore nothing but a blanket, Eileen stepped backward and met his eyes. “There is no need to stand out in the pouring rain when you can stay warm and dry. There is a trapdoor beneath the cot should this place somehow be discovered. Besides, Uncle John cannot return in this storm. Even if by some remote chance you are found, he can claim innocence. Stay.”

  “And you?” Blue eyes watched her steadily.

  “Come what may, I stay with you.” As simple as that. If she’d had a horse, she would have followed him after that first meeting when they were children. Pride had almost caused her to lose him again. She had learned her lesson well. Pride had naught to do with happiness.

  “I cannot let you do that, princess.” Drake turned toward the fire, stirring it into flame and adding more kindling. “You don’t understand what has happened. I am a man with a price on my head. Everything I had is lost.”

  “Not everything,” Eileen murmured from behind him.

  Drake lifted his head to read her meaning, then shook it sadly. “Yes, little one, everything. I cannot protect you when I can scarcely protect myself. For this one night, perhaps, I could have you for a little while, pretend I have not lost it all. But in the morn I must leave you to your uncle and Michael. He was the wisest choice, after all.”

  Eileen studied him, memorizing the glint of gold in his hair as the firelight danced upon it, admiring the jut of high cheekbones in a lean, square-jawed face. He was no longer the London dandy of his youth, but a man with all the responsibilities and beliefs of his kind. Men looked upon the world on a grander scale than women, she had learned. They treasured pride and honor and duty above the more mundane aspects of life, such as the people who loved them. He could be no less than a man, no more than she could be less of a woman. The differences were foolish, but she was learning to accept them. In her own way.

  With a smile, Eileen held out her hand to him. “I can protect myself, my lord.”

  This time Drake did not question her meaning. He stepped toward her, his eyes smoldering. In the morning he would be gone, and she could not follow. Tonight she would find what happiness she could. He folded her in his arms again, and his mouth closed demandingly against hers.

  Knowing she had won only half the battle, Eileen surrendered, for the moment. There would be time enough later to plan her attack. For now, the world consisted of Drake’s mouth on hers and his strong arms holding her close. She parted her lips, and the first stage of conquest was his.

  Drake’s lips sought each curve of Eileen’s cheek and throat. His hands found the pins of her hair and removed them. When the thick, heavy tresses fell in cascading lengths down to her waist, he filled his hands and smiled down on her.

  “Do you have any idea how long I have wished to do that?”

  Eileen touched a finger to his lips, then brought it to her own, savoring the taste of him. “As long as I have wished to do that, my Lord Sherburne.”

  He sucked in air, then staring down into her eyes, deliberately unfastened the lace strings of her bodice. Firelight flickered shadows over the hollows of his cheeks and made smoldering embers of his eyes as he bent all his concentration to the task.

  Eileen held herself still as he released her from the modesty of lawn and lace. The bodice fell down around her waist, and she stepped clear of the yards of petticoats and lawn as these, too, became victims of Drake’s nimble fingers.

  She stood before him in only chemise and stockings, and her flesh tingled under the intensity of his study. His hand caressed the lengths of hair from her shoulders, letting it slide down her back so the curve of her breasts and the valley between had no other veil but the chemise. Light from fire and torch gleamed along his sharp cheekbones and made dark hollows of his eyes.

  “You are not afraid?” Drake filled his hand with the weight of her breast.

  “Not any more than I fear the wind in the trees or the waves on the sea. They can cause harm, I know, but I do not fear them for all that.” She let her voice speak in the lilt of her lost country.

  As her skin felt the masculine roughness of his, the core of excitement within her burst and spread like wildfire. Her fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his shoulders as Drake lifted her from the floor with his good arm to kiss her. The hem of chemise slid upward, and she realized with rising excitement that his blanket had fallen from his waist. Instinctively her hips moved closer to his, and the heat of him sent the wildfire blazing higher.

  Cupping her buttocks in one large hand, Drake brought her next to him, and Eileen gasped at the hardness sliding between her thighs. But she raised her legs, and the wind blew to whip the flames higher.

  “Oh, God, princess,” Drake groaned against her ear. “I cannot wait much longer. Let me love you now.”

  “Please.” She murmured the word urgently.

  He growled something uninterpretable, and an instant later, Eileen found herself upon the bed, her chemise only a memory on the floor. Drake’s kisses lifted her from the rough sheets of the bed and into the heavens. His mouth closed over the hardened peak of her breast, and his hand penetrated the ache between her thighs. She bit back a cry on her lip as just his touch brought her to the edge and over and internal fire spread through her center.

  And then he was in her, shoving deeper as the wildfire propelled her hips upward to meet his thrust. He split her asunder, but she could no more resist the pain than the fire could fight the wind. It blazed within her, melding her flesh to his, reaching heights of shattering magnitude.

  Until she could no longer feel her own body but only his, and he swept her into a river of fire that melded her to him for always. The pain and joy combined to make one as convulsions racked her body, and Drake’s life fluid combined with her own. There could be no parting after this. She was his.

  Chapter 13

  Drake smoothed a tendril of copper around the curve of one warm, soft breast and found his attentions met with the questioning stare of silver eyes. He kissed her brow and met her gaze. “I thought you slept, princess.”

  “Not tonight.” Eileen moved closer to him. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Drake had no desire to repeat his confusion. What he wanted lay in the bed beside him, but she had been a virgin, and he had caused her pain. He turned on his side and ran his hand along her slender length.!

  “If you insist, I will tell you. Did I hurt you?”

  “Not as much as you gave me pleasure. I wanted you to be the one to teach me. Tell me,” she repeated.

  “I would rather make love to you.” Drake trailed a line of kisses along her cheek.

  “I will beat upon your poor shoulder until you desist.” Far from beating, she caressed his bandages.

  Sighing, Drake took her in his arms so that he could at least feel the pressure of her breasts against his side. One slender leg wrapped about his, and he sighed with satisfaction. She might be unbiddable, but she certainly knew how to
hold his attention.

  “There is little to tell, Eileen. I discovered my cousins headed for Charlie. I was prepared for it, or so I thought. I went after them and arranged to have them kidnapped before they could meet up with the troops. Even if they suspect I arranged it, they could still return to Sherburne without accusations. They will be released somewhere in France, supposedly upon my paying their ransom.”

  Eileen stroked the dark golden hair upon Drake’s chest. “And Edmund intercepted your messages telling Diane all was well. Why? Surely it did not take you these many weeks to send the Monsards out of the country?”

  He knew she’d ask that, but there was no point in revealing the state of his desperation at the time, now that it had come to no conclusion. Drake shrugged and caught her hand, trapping it against his chest.

  “I had other business that required discretion. I did not think it anyone’s concern but my own. When I heard what happened at Culloden, I started home to make certain my cousins could not possibly have joined in that disaster. I found soldiers on the road everywhere, beating the bushes for any of the poor fools Cumberland failed to massacre.”

  The bitterness in his voice grew strong. “When I was nearly within sight of Sherburne, I met one of my footmen waiting for me with a message from Diane. She said the house was full of soldiers with a warrant for my arrest, and your uncle advised me to keep out of sight until he could find out more.”

  Drake abruptly stood up and strode across the room to the remains of the bottle of rum. “Do you really want to hear the rest?” he asked when returning to the bed.

  “There is more?”

  “Not much.” Drake kissed her, forcing her to respond, then pulled away. “I did not believe the seriousness of the situation. Admittedly, my loyalties to the king may be questionable, but I was nowhere near Scotland. I had nothing to do with those fool Jacobites other than to prevent my cousins from joining their numbers. So I went home to confront the bastards and throw the lot of them out. They began firing on me even before I rode down the drive.”