As he stood talking, Sebastian kept track of the Lady Mayfield as she hovered near the queen or stood conversing with Lady Katherine. Several noblemen approached her with offers to dance; she turned them all away. It pleased him… and troubled him. He had no claim on the lady, and another lady had already made a claim on him.
Still, when a little time had passed, he broke away from the group and their intrigues, and cut a casual swath through the throng toward her.
“Will you dance, my lady?” he asked as he approached, extending one hand toward her with an enigmatic smile. She dipped a small curtsy, and he caught up the hand she slipped into his.
“I will, your Grace. I am curious to see if you dance as well as you ride.”
Her answer prompted a laugh. Free flowing and unrestrained, the amusement mirrored itself in his eyes. All he knew was that she intrigued him, and despite her troubles, he couldn't quite stay away. She was like a breath of fresh air. In sudden, high spirits, he swept her into the dance. They circled and separated, coming together with a touch of their palms. He felt a jolt of energy at the contact and saw that it affected her the same. She missed her cue several times, like the dance wasn't familiar, and once stepped on his boot. The missteps charmed him.
His attention was fixed on her in a manner that he had not displayed toward a woman since his youth, and that alone was enough to prompt whispers and curious attention. Sebastian didn't notice.
“Do I meet your expectations, my lady?” He dared to tease her when the figure brought them together. She looked coy and playful instead of tormented, as if she'd decided to make the best of her circumstance. Her fingers laced through his for a moment, an almost intimate caress.
“No, your Grace, I’m sorry.” His brow arched in the heartbeat it took her to add: “You surpass them.”
He stood there grinning like a green boy while she step-twirled away. A nobleman elbowed him with a laugh to get him moving again. When he caught up to her, the music bringing them close for a pass, he took her hand in his. Drawing her to him, he stared down into her eyes.
“You dance beautifully, my lady."
“I ride beautifully, too,” she said, mischief in her expression.
"I find myself eager to have you prove it. Tomorrow will not come soon enough," he said, surprised to find he meant it.
The mental anguish she endured kept Laurel up more than half the night. Despite the lovely dance and Sebastian's charm, anxiety ate at her until she gnawed a spot raw on the inside of her lip. Nausea came and went in bursts, like her tears. It didn't help that the room was so foreign and that Katherine snored. The stench, dank and stale, made it impossible to rest easy.
She sorted through plots and plans until her brain hurt, unsure of the best course of action. Bernard or Isabella might know better what to do, but she couldn't leave to go ask them. She was scared she'd either get stuck in the future without Sebastian, or come back to a different era by mistake. That left earning his trust and trying to lure him through the door when she thought he was ready. Still risky, still fraught full of what-ifs. There were too many variables, too much she didn't understand.
By the time sunrise crept through the cracks of the shutters, she'd fallen into a fitful sleep, only to be woken by a poking, prodding Katherine.
"Time to rise, lady May--Laurel," she said.
"Mm, will you give my excuses to Anne-- er-- the queen? I am severely under the weather today," Laurel said. It wasn't all that far from the truth. She had other plans with Sebastian, however, that could not be delayed.
"Oh, poor dear," Katherine said, patting her shoulder with sisterly affection. "I will pass the message on."
Laurel watched Katherine hustle to get ready and soon, she was alone in the small room.
Finding the courage to get up took her another ten minutes. She suffered through a round with the blasted chamber pot and pulled on a simple dress from the armoire. The burgundy skirt, topped by a dark bodice and white undershirt suited for a day in the saddle. At least it laced up the front, so she didn't have to seek help to get dressed.
Checking the hallway, she waited until a troupe of knights had passed, bantering with hands on the hilts of their swords, and stepped out of the room. Careful not to be seen by Katherine or any of the other ladies-in-waiting, she escaped through the great hall and out into the day. She took a deep breath of the fresh air, grateful to be out of the confines of the castle.
Finding the stables without too much trouble, she arrived just as Sebastian was about to swing into the saddle. He paused and walked closer, bowing gallantly. His smile was charming.
"My lady. I trust you rested well?"
Any hopes that she'd had of him remembering were dashed with his polite question. She stopped before him with a faint smile, relieved to see him regardless of the situation.
"I slept well enough," she said, curtsying. "And you, Seb--your Grace? How was the rest of your night?"
He gathered her hand and brushed a warm kiss across her knuckles. Straightening, he said, "Well enough. Perhaps you should call me Sebastian when we are alone." Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he led her toward a small brown and white mare that he'd had saddled and waiting.
Laurel accepted his arm. "I believe that will do nicely, your Gr-- Sebastian." She laughed, easing some of the crippling fear, and palmed half her face for a moment.
Grinning, he released her arm and put his hands on her hips. "I believe you said you ride well," he said, face close to hers in the pretense of hoisting her into the saddle.
His manner amused her and his devilry was infectious. "Yes," she said. "It will not be much longer before you find out firsthand."
He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that gave Laurel shivers. Effortlessly, he lifted her into the saddle, and she had a momentary setback when she realized it was a sidesaddle. Adjusting her legs, she arranged her skirts, looking down at him while she gathered the reins. Laurel had ridden in Kansas when she was a youngster and hadn't forgotten how to handle a horse.
"How is it that you came by my name, my lady? I did not realize it was such common knowledge." He stepped away to his stallion, vaulting astride with ease.
Laurel regarded his skill with appreciation. The black doublet with gold trim fit him well, the sword strapped at his hip slapping against his thigh when he mounted. "From the lips of one noble or another," she said, coming up with a neat lie to cover the question.
Sebastian eyed her, still smiling, and when she was ready, he led them into a trot past the gates. The countryside opened up before them and their steeds were allowed into a gallop.
Laurel got her first real glimpse of the English countryside and the Thames. From a distance, the walls of Whitehall rose high and commanding beyond the treetops. She rode with as much skill as she'd boasted, handling her mare with a knowing, firm hand. Sebastian traded glances and smiles with her along the way and Laurel decided to stop fretting for the ride and just enjoy it. Enjoy him.
Circling back, they came across an enormous hedge maze and Laurel gasped, reining in her mare. "Look at that. It's…it is huge," she said, correcting herself. She glanced at Sebastian, who stared at her oddly for her slip.
"I have a fondness for mazes," she admitted.
"As do I," he said. "Your manner of speech is unique."
Laurel's cheeks warmed, though the color could be blamed on the sunlight. "Yes," she agreed, and didn't offer to explain.
"Would you like to go inside?" he asked.
"I would love to," she replied with a grin.
They walked their horses closer to the entrance and Sebastian dismounted first, tying his mount to a branch. He came over to help her down, hands strong on her waist. Laurel watched his eyes at close range while he swung her to the ground, hands on his shoulders.
"Thank you," she said.
He released her waist after he'd turned her to face the entrance. "Run, my lady," he whispered near her ear.
A shiver raced down her sp
ine and Laurel snatched up her skirts. At the opening to the high walls of the hedges, she glanced back, meeting his intent gaze, and then disappeared with a girlish laugh. There was something carefree about the hunt and the chase, and she darted through the maze, forgetting about her troubles among the thick, manicured foliage and the fresh scent of clipped grass. She passed several nooks, some of them boasting pretty fountains that burbled water over stone cherubs, and stopped to listen, breathing shallow and fast.
"Is that rose water I smell?" he called out, teasing her.
Laurel tried to discern his position but the size of the maze worked against her. Stifling a laugh, she ran down another lane, making left and right turns indiscriminately. "It is the smell of prowess, mine over yours," she shouted.
"You forget to whom you speak, my lady," he replied, sounding amused.
She still couldn't figure his position.
"Is that so? You notice it is me who is still unfound," she said, dashing past a nook and down a straight lane.
She heard no answering laughter, no taunting banter. It made the chase twice as fun. Running headlong around the corner of a hedge, she suddenly found herself caught up in strong arms. Laughing in delight, blonde hair swinging around her shoulders, she stared down into his glinting eyes while he lifted her and spun her in a circle.
Time seemed to slow down, and she had the distinct impression that he felt the charge in the air between them like she did. She ached to kiss him and saw the confused desire in him to do the same.
He loosened his hold enough to let her slide to the ground, keeping possession of one of her hands. "You are found, my lady," he said.
She smiled, catching her breath, struck by his eyes, the serious expression on his face. It changed into a bold grin and he tugged her into a run, sword clanking against his thigh. Laurel ran alongside, laughing, feeling young and happy and free spirited in that particular moment.
This was how new love should feel. Fresh, unpredictable, joyful.
He led her into one of the coves, hedges circling on all sides, a large fountain in the middle. There was privacy here, even though they hadn't seen anyone else near the maze.
Sebastian helped her up onto the lip of the fountain, always with a care for her safety.
"You certainly know how to entertain a lady, Sebastian. I am almost tempted to take my shoes off and dangle my toes in the water."
"What is to prevent you, my lady? There is only you and I here," he said, leading her by her hand around the edge. After one rotation, he swung her to the ground and stalked over to a bench, reclining on his side like a lounging lion. He propped himself lazily on an elbow and watched her.
"Well then, I will," she said. Sitting on the lip, she bent down to remove her shoes. Setting them aside, she glanced across the grass and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him so relaxed-- in the sun. It beat down on his face, his clothing, and he basked in ways he would never do in the future. In ways Laurel would never see him do again. Swallowing down a painful knot, she dipped her toes in the water and got hold of herself.
"Tell me of your life here," she asked.
"What is there to know, my lady? I serve the king, as you serve the queen."
"What is there not to know?" she countered. It was better to sass and challenge him than be melancholy over things she could not change. "Life has to be more than service to others. Where did you learn to joust so well?"
"I apprenticed in his Majesty's household. We started to train as soon as we could ride," he replied. "And you, my lady? Where did you learn to ride so well?"
"You are much better than he is," Laurel said of Sebastian's skill. A sly gleam entered her eyes. "Do I look like a woman who would not know how to ride instinctively, your Grace?"
"Such words could be considered treason," he said. The corners of his mouth twitched with a smile. "Do you mean to imply you have not ridden before?"
Scandalously, she inched her skirt to the knee and kicked her foot his direction. Water droplets sprayed in an arc, spattering over his clothing.
His wolfish grin preceded an abrupt rise off the bench. He stalked her, snatching her up in his arms. Stepping right into the fountain, his tall boots keeping the water at bay, he angled her feet under the trickling water.
Laurel, laughing, hooked her arms around his shoulders, playing with the ends of his hair. "I mean to imply that I can handle any riding situation that arises.”
"You are surpassingly beautiful, my lady," he said, voice thick with appreciation and desire.
"As you are handsome," she replied. The way he watched her eyes and her mouth made her think he waged some inner war over whether or not to kiss her. "As for treason, I will take my chances." That word left a sour taste in her mouth. It was what he would be tortured for, what he was supposed to die for.
Her comment seemed to sober him. "Do not take your chances within hearing of any other," he said.
"I will have a care," she promised.
He smiled, apparently relieved, and glanced from her face down to the water.
Laurel's eyes widened and she forgot herself when she said, "Sebastian Xavier Thorn, don't you dare toss me in!"
Sebastian looked more than a little surprised. "You are well informed, my lady. Do we have common acquaintances?"
"I make it my business to be well informed," she said, trying to side step the question. Reaching up, she stroked her fingers along his jaw.
"You touch me like you have done so before."
Laurel faltered, seeking some sort of answer. She hated lying to him all the time. "Of course I have, or was my dancing so ineffectual last evening?"
With a broad smile, he said, "I think not. Come my lady, I think it is time we returned."
Chapter Thirteen
“Your Majesty,” Sebastian said. He could taste the bitter sweetness on his tongue as he watched Anne sweep into the room, resplendent in crimson and gold. He had received her message to meet not long after returning to the palace. Even as he stared at the woman who had been his childhood love, he could not forget his desire to kiss lady Mayfield.
Once upon a time, he and Anne would have run to each other given a rare moment alone, but things had changed between them during the course of her marriage to the King. He could have forgiven her that -- Anne was as much a pawn of her father’s machinations as anything else. It was her passion for the king that Sebastian could not forgive. Nor the way she began to turn to him now that the king’s passion for her was waning.
He was not without sympathy for her; he had loved her too long for that. So when he saw the distressed look on her face, he stepped forward to press his cup of wine in her hand and led her toward a seat near the fireplace. He didn't miss the intense way she stared at him.
“Thank you,” she said, before taking a deep drink.
Settling in beside her, he looked casual without the doublet over his flowing ivory shirt and inclined his head at her gratitude.
It didn’t take her long after that to start in.
“Tell me what is between you and this woman, Sebastian.”
Her question did not surprise him, but his jaw tightened in response to her tone. She must have noticed, because her hand slipped to his knee and her expression softened. Anne knew how to play the game.
“I was not acquainted with the lady until now,” he said, dropping his hand over hers on his leg.
“She uses your given name in a most intimate, inappropriate way,” Anne said.
Sebastian resisted the urge to remind her how intimate Henry probably said her name upon occasion, among other things. “I believe it was innocent, Anne. She means no harm.”
“I hope it remains innocent, for her sake,” Anne said, suggesting that she might step in and take action otherwise.
The insinuation sat ill with him for many reasons, not the least being that he knew Anne was trying to keep both Henry and himself at her whim. If she couldn't have one, then she wanted the other. He might have admi
red her tactics at self preservation if he hadn't been forced to watch as another man took her to wife. Standing up, he paced toward the casement to glance over a rear courtyard.
“You are reading more into it than there is.”
“Not only me, Thorn. Tongues are wagging all through the court about the two of you.”
“Rather they wag about my attention to one of your ladies, than my attention to you,” he pointed out. In periphery, he saw her posture stiffen.
“I thought perhaps we might meet like we once did, in pri--”
“We must have a care,” he said, interrupting her. He knew she was going to ask that they meet off the grounds of the castle for a tryst. They had done it twice before to have time alone despite the great risk. “The climate is…tenuous. Henry will be looking for an excuse.” To set her aside as he had Queen Katherine.
“Things are quite strained between us, presently,” Anne said, after a brief look of disappointment at his denial.
Sebastian, and everyone else at Whitehall, knew just how strained. "All the more reason."
“I should return.” Finishing her wine, she stood and met his gaze. The complicated situation between them needed no acknowledgment.
"All will be well. My lady," he said, cutting her an exaggerated bow. He exited the room without kissing her or even taking up her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. For once, he was not moved to show affection to his own wife. His thoughts turned to lady Mayfield before the door could close in his wake.
Laurel played out the rest of her 'sick day' to the hilt, languishing in the dank little room with a fake headache. Katherine was off doing her duties, which left Laurel blessedly alone to think about her situation. She mulled over everything that had happened, always second guessing her decisions. But she felt like she was making headway with Sebastian, that he was warming to her and seeking her company. He was so different than the Sebastian she'd met in the graveyard, and yet eerily similar. She noticed both incarnations had a penchant for protecting her, even when the circumstances were questionable, and both were equally intense.
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