“Thank you.” I didn’t know what else I could say. I had to be satisfied with the situation for now. Being able to play for Rebecca every day would put me into more contact with Nurse Tolley. At least I could report to Rebecca’s mother if I saw any more incidents of ill treatment.
“Whatever are you doing here?” Prudence demanded, looking at me as acutely as Stuart had. “You’re an educated, accomplished woman. Why are you here as a maid, and not teaching as a governess?”
“I needed the job, and no governess positions were available.” I stood. “Mrs. Frye wanted me back quickly. Thank you for inviting me.”
Prudence blinked with surprise and I saw a flash of disappointment cross her face, making me sorry for my hasty retreat. She stood. “Yes, thank you for coming.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from suggesting we have tea again. I’d hurt Prudence by rudely cutting the tea short, and as I walked from Prudence’s room, I had the same feeling as I’d experienced over Mary’s letter that morning—as if I were once again allowing fear and caution to rule my life.
Chapter Fourteen
That night after the evening meal of a savory fish stew, Bridget helped me again in teaching the servants to read and write. It was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I still ached from scrubbing the center hall, and all I wanted was a bath and bed. I refused to think about stargazing again.
I doubted Sean would issue any more safe passages, and I didn’t dare go without one.
The tables, counters and chairs in the kitchens provided ample space to teach the servants and the room soon filled. As in our previous classes, everyone appeared, tired but eager. Jamie still sat as far from me as possible and kept his angry gaze focused on me continually, an unnerving situation I had yet to be able to change, though there’d be no more explosions from him since I’d mentioned Mary’s name last week.
Jamie resented me, as if I was responsible for Mary’s death. He clearly didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t stay away from me, either. In some odd way, I understood. As I’d grown closer to those around me, I found myself questioning if anyone had really killed Mary, and it became more and more a possibility to me that my cousin had accidentally drowned. That still left the mystery of Lady Helen’s murder, for I couldn’t believe Sean was guilty. If Andromeda had read the viscount’s mind correctly, then someone else in Lady Helen’s life had killed her.
Leaving my thoughts, I started the class writing the alphabet again, everyone taking turns with the few materials we had, when Stuart entered, carrying a huge sack.
“What are you doing here?” Bridget demanded under her breath when Stuart reached us.
I winced at the antagonism barbing her voice. Stuart only grinned and lifted a brow, whispering back. “Your increasing irritation proves that your affection for me grows every day, so I forgive your rudeness.”
I had to cough to cover my laugh or Bridget would have never forgiven me.
She glared at Stuart. “Why you…you…there aren’t words to describe your…your…”
“Stop blabbering rubbish and come help me pass out these supplies the Killdaren ordered,” he said softly. “Your hands are not the only helping hands in the world.”
My fake cough turned into a real one as I choked over the questions stuck in my throat. Learning that Sean not only knew about the classes, but had also helped with the supplies, reached deeply inside me. By the time Stuart and Bridget had emptied the sack, everyone had paper, writing implements, a Bible, and a primary book showing both the alphabet and numbers. Seeing tears gather in their eyes as they ran their work-roughened hands over their new belongings tightened the emotion welling inside me.
Sean was not the man he, and the rumors about him, would have the world to believe.
Stuart proved his helping hands by staying to assist others with the reading and writing after giving out the supplies. He also proved his point about Bridget’s affection. Her irritation grew by the minute.
The class lasted an hour, and then another twenty minutes passed as everyone shared some conversation before leaving. Stuart was the last to go, and Bridget’s temper had built to an explosive point by then. After he left, she stomped across the room, setting the kitchens back to rights.
“Ack, if that man thinks being here is going to change my opinion of his womanizing ways, he’s in for a mighty disappointment.”
“I think he came because he genuinely wants to help. I also think he’s the one who let Sean Killdaren know we needed supplies. And if he is wooing you by doing so, what’s wrong with that? You’re the one who defended the vampire luring the lady from her loneliness in the story.”
“Humph. That story doesn’t have anything to do with Stuart and me. Besides, the man didn’t take his gaze off me the whole time he was here. It’s enough to make a woman insane, it is.”
I understood, as being with Sean made me feel that way. “You’ll feel better once we soak in the tub with some rose bath salts.”
“You and your baths. You think they’re an answer to the world’s woes.”
I hid a grin and headed for the laundry area where Mrs. Murphy had left steamy water waiting for us. Bridget might bluster about bathing every night, but she no longer balked. We filled the tubs and as I undressed she put the rose bath salts in my tub then went to scent hers.
“We’re out,” she declared.
Holding my robe up for modesty’s sake, I slid the curtains open to find Bridget pouting over the empty jar.
“Don’t worry. There are more in our room on the desk.”
“I’ll be right back.” She dashed out.
Humming to myself, I slid into the steamy water, feeling the aches and pains ease and my eyelids close. But there were tensions inside me that no amount of warm water could ease. My desire for Sean and the mystery about Mary were uppermost in my mind. My other concern was the fact that someday soon I would have to leave. I couldn’t masquerade as a maid forever. I had a life and a family and a future I would eventually have to face. At that moment, I couldn’t reconcile the person I had now become since arriving at Killdaren’s Castle with the me I’d been most of my life.
I stood on a precipice, and any direction I might choose, I would lose that which I could not live without.
A loud crash brought my eyes wide open to find Jamie standing in the laundry room. A bucket that he’d obviously dropped rested at his feet. He stared at me, mouth agape.
Shrinking deeper into the water, I crossed my arms over my breasts, gasping for air enough to scream but only croaked like a dead toad.
“Ma-a…ry,” he called, moving a step closer. Then another step, reaching his hands out for me. “Mary hurt you.”
In an instant I envisioned him dragging me naked to the stone virgins. Horror ripped away my paralysis and added a sharpness to my voice that made Mrs. Frye at her worst seem like a lamb. “Stop immediately! Mary’s dead! Do you hear me! Get out of here now!”
“Mary!” he shouted, his cry of anguish reverberating in the room. I held my breath as he slammed a fisted hand to his heart then ran from the room.
I would have immediately left the tub, but my legs wouldn’t work and a black haze covered my vision. I buried my face in my palms and drew deep breaths, determined not to faint and drown.
Another clattering of the bucket and breaking glass made me scream. A scream that died the second I saw Bridget sprawled on the floor with a broken blue vase before her and soft pink roses scattered everywhere. She gasped then burst into tears.
My bath had turned into a circus. Dragging myself from the water and donning a robe, I hurried on shaky legs and put an arm around Bridget.
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. He gave me flowers. Nobody’s ever given me flowers and now I’ve broken them.”
“Who—” I cut off my question, staring at the roses Stuart had to have given Bridget. A soft smile settled in my heart.
I patted Bridget’s back. “Not to worry.
You climb into the tub and calm yourself while I find something to put these beautiful roses in. Our room will smell like a garden for days and then I’ll show you how to dry them so that you can keep them forever.”
Sniffing, Bridget turned a tearful, hopeful gaze my way. “He really likes me, doesn’t he? Even though I don’t have a lick of education.”
“Yes. And don’t belittle yourself, Bridget McGowan. You’ve a tremendous amount of wit, a big heart, and as far as education goes, that’s something that changes for the better every day. So it doesn’t matter, now does it?”
“No,” Bridget said, as we both rose to our feet. She went to the tub and I dressed in fresh clothes then looked for a vase and a broom.
Once I had things cleaned, I brought the flowers to Bridget, having found a small stone urn that I didn’t think would be missed. Bridget finished dressing and pulled the flowers into her arms, breathing deeply of the roses, her cheeks as pink as the blooms.
“There’s something very special about you, Cassie. No matter what happens, there is this light inside you that chases away the darkness.”
Smiling, I turned from Bridget and gathered up our belongings. I walked into our room first, hanging our clothes over the chair and accidentally dropping a mob cap. When I bent to pick it up, I saw a gold sealed envelope on the floor by the desk. Sean. My heart raced as an odd, ill feeling settled inside me.
What if Stuart hadn’t sent Bridget the roses? What if they’d been for me? I tucked the envelope into my pocket, feeling it burn there as I helped Bridget arrange the flowers on the table by her bed.
“I almost don’t want to read the rest of the queen’s story tonight. I could sit here and look at these all night long.” Bridget took another deep whiff of the roses. “Where do you think he got them from?”
“The village. We can wait to read about the queen,” I said, eager for us to retire so that I could read the note.
“No. I’ve been thinking about her.”
I sighed, resigned to wait, realizing that if he’d written asking me to come, I shouldn’t go. That maybe I should pretend I hadn’t even found the note. “I have too.”
“Let’s read then,” Bridget said, and I nodded. We were cohorts in this naughty venture I’m sure neither of us would have been brave enough to do alone. And part of my wanting to read tonight was to delay learning what Sean had written to me. I doubt he’d issue any more safe passages. That meant I had to decide if I was willing to go without one.
“We have to stop seeing each other. You have to stop coming to me. This week has been more than I can bear. The loneliness will be harder now. But I’ll never forget the pleasure you’ve given me.”
“Wait,” Bridget said. “Did we miss a page? What pleasure? Are they not going to tell us about the week the queen spent with Draco?”
I turned the page back. “I guess not.”
“But they can’t do that,” Bridget said.
“They did. Do you want to skip this story and go to another one?”
“No. I want that the author should have written this one right.”
“What would you have had them write?”
“All of the things that people do when they fall in love. All of the things that girls like me never know. Dinner and dances and operas and balls.”
I shut the book. “Do you want to write our own story then?”
“What?” Her eyes boggled.
“Write things the way we want them to be. We can tell it anyway we want to.”
“Blimey. I never thought about it like that before. Maybe. But not tonight. I want to know about the queen they way the story is now.”
“All right.” I opened the book.
The young queen turned, wrenching painfully away from Draco, the man who would take her from her burdened, virgin life and give her immortality and the only love she would ever be sure was true.
All others would want her for another reason, for power, for wealth, or to be king of a nation. Only he could love her for herself.
“Go, please. There can never be happiness between us. I am bound to this life and you to another.”
“Seven nights, my virgin queen. One more week to convince you that my love is worth all that you would leave behind.” Draco smiled sadly, unable to walk away.
“The fruit you offer is one that I would give my soul to know, but it is forbidden, for I cannot sacrifice my nation. I would cease to be queen then, and that is all I am.”
Draco crossed the room and caught the queen in his arms. “Don’t say that. It isn’t true. You’re a woman, a beautiful woman. My woman.”
Tears flowing, she pressed her fingers to his lips and he gently nipped her fingertip with his fang, careful not to break her skin and draw the blood he so desperately wanted to join with his. He could force her to be his, press his thirsty lips to her throat and make her his. But to do so would destroy the very part of him that enabled him to love.
She buried herself against his chest. “Were I any other woman in the world, in any other nation in the world that would be true. But it is not. I’ll reign and I’ll die, and if there is mercy in this world, then one day we will share the love burning so deeply within us.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he blinked back his own tears. “Seven more nights?” he whispered.
“Yes.” Her cry muffled with a sob.
“Blimey.” Bridge pulled the book from my hands and tossed it onto the bed before dashing at the tears in her eyes. “I can’t read any more of it tonight.”
Neither could I, but I didn’t say so. I didn’t want to think about wrenching sadness when my feelings for Sean were such a bubbling caldron of doubt. I could foresee no ending different than that of the virgin queen and her secret, dark lover.
“It is a sad story.” The note in my pocket pulled upon my heart as deeply as the queen’s denial. If he’d asked for me to come, how could I not go? But how could I go and forsake all that I knew was proper?
“Why doesn’t she just love him?” Bridget demanded.
Tears stung my eyes. “She does.”
“But she won’t be with him, and he loves her. Her fear of losing him is too great to let herself love while she can.” Bridget shoved the book aside and plopped onto her bed. “It’s just a story,” she said. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with me and Stuart.”
I blinked. Stuart? I’d thought only of Sean. “You’re absolutely right.” I marched to my cot and slipped off my boots. The story had nothing to do with either of us.
“I’m right?” Bridget frowned as if she expected that I would argue with her.
“Yes. You are.” I snuffed out the candle. “I suggest we get some sleep.”
Had I honestly believed that, I might have been able to shut my eyes and drift off rather than to feign sleep for an eternity as Bridget tossed and turned. I thought I would scream with impatience before she started to snore. I waited a few more agonizing moments to make sure she wasn’t going to awaken, then I lit a candle stub and ripped open the envelope. Two cards fell out. Written in his bold script were two short notes.
I hope these blooms bring you as much pleasure as your soft, fragrant skin brings me.
This ticket entitles the bearer to a trip to the stars and beyond.
There was no mention of a safe passage.
I also knew that I would go.
When I opened the dragon-handled doors, I found him standing there, waiting. He seemed unsettled, his hair askew, his expression worried. I suddenly wondered if he’d been in pain.
But that wasn’t what brought me to a standstill. It was his attire, or lack of it. Gone were the traditional accoutrements of pants and shirt. In their stead he wore an open, black-silk robe embroidered with a silver dragon breathing fire over his left breast. The open neck of the robe exposed an indecent amount of his fascinating chest.
He had on pants, but they weren’t normal restrictive pants. They were silky and moved fluidly with the muscles beneath. My heart fel
t as if it reached him before he reached me.
“I’m glad you came.” He slid the door from my grasp and urged me into the corridor enough to close the door behind me.
Mindful of the thorns, I clutched a pink rose I’d taken from the bouquet before leaving my room.
He smiled, setting his cane aside. “They are beautiful, are they not?” He took the rose from me and trailed the bloom along my cheek.
“Most beautiful,” I whispered, taking a step back as I tried to absorb the intensity of his gaze and the power of his presence. He made every part of me tingle with awareness.
“As are you.” He stepped closer, letting the rose slide down my neck and across the exposed skin of my chest. Then, setting his palms on the door behind me, he brushed a kiss to my lips. “Will it be the stars again tonight? Or shall I take you beyond?”
“The stars,” I said, desperately hoping that I could keep control of the overwhelming temptation to be with him. I forced my hands to my sides to keep from touching him. He was so close, and I knew if I even brushed my hand against the silk of his robe, I would be lost.
He dropped his forehead to mine. “God help me, Cassie. I don’t know how strong I can be.”
“First,” I whispered, not sure how the word escaped my lips, but everything within me cried to be with him. He snapped his gaze to mine, intensely searching. I dampened my lips, “Stars first…then…”
“Last,” he groaned as if in pain. “Stars last.” He kissed me then, hard and deep, pressing me up against the door, molding his body to mine. The fire of his touch only made me thirst for more.
“Last,” I whispered in defeat, wanting him so much that I could no longer stand on the propriety upon which I had built my life. Tears stung my eyes. He stopped trailing kisses across my jaw and gazed into my eyes, then drew a deep breath and stepped back.
“I’m rushing you. I’m sorry. Come with me.” He held out his hand and I put mine in his. I knew he wasn’t taking me to the observatory in the round room and I didn’t protest.
Surprisingly, he didn’t go down the long corridor leading to his bedchamber. He led me to the first room on the right, revealing the study I had seen briefly before. This time a comfortable fire-lit hearth and a candlelit table brought a warm glow to the darkness. The black curtains were open now, revealing the sea and the stars. Tempting bites of cheeses and fruits and sweet confections filled silver platters on the table where goblets and wine stood ready next to another bouquet of roses that enticingly scented the air.
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