Ever My Love: The Lore of the Lucius Ring (The Legend of the Theodosia Sword Book 2)

by Kathryn Le Veque

“What’s this about ye falling in love with a bloody Englishman?”

  “’Twas a trifle and fleeting.” She turned to a servant asking them for whiskey. She was going to need it for this conversation, for it seemed her father was not willing to let it go.

  “That, or it was bloody inventive.” He wrapped his thick arms around her and tugged her in for a hug, patting her awkwardly on the back.

  “Pardon, me?” Antónia pulled away, eyeing her father as though he’d gone mad.

  “To have an English noble, a Captain in Her Majesty’s Navy, no less, under your thumb… We could go far with the rebellion should he bend to your will.”

  Antónia’s face flamed, anger rising. She’d never use Titus in that way. She loved her people, her country, but she loved him, too, and she couldn’t stoop to such a devious and conniving level. That would hurt him, it would debase her feelings for him. Nay, never would she use him.

  “Well, ’tis a good thing we need not worry over it then,” she muttered.

  “A good thing it is, daughter, for I saw an English ship sailing along the coast just now.”

  Antónia felt all the blood drain from her face, pooling in her toes and making her dizzy. She reached out to grab on to something, only finding the shoulder of the woman carrying the whiskey.

  Was it possible? Was it Titus? Had he come for her? Or had he come to betray her?

  Her stomach flipped, eyes wide.

  A horn sounded from the battlements, a warning.

  The English, indeed, were upon them. She could hear the sounds of men shouting and then a cannon booming. The Lady Hook! They were attacking.

  Oh, heavens no! If he had come, even if he’d come to fight, she couldn’t allow him to die before she spoke to him.

  Antónia pushed past her father, rushing from the great hall, the sound of him shouting after her following, along with the sound of Granuaille’s laughter, her call of, “The Theodosia curse is upon us! True love in the form of an Englishman.”

  Ignoring them all, Antónia raced up the battlement stairs, taking the looking glass from the guard on top. A ship. Painted boldly in gold and shining in the sunlight was its name, Theodosia…

  “This cannot be…” she murmured.

  The Theodosia? It was a sign. He had come for her. Had named a ship for the legend behind The Lucius Ring.

  “Signal our ship to stop firing,” she ordered the guard on the battlements.

  When the guard hesitated, she shouted, “Now!”

  They signaled through blowing a horn to cease fire, and waving a flag in just the right pattern, and she was grateful to see that the cannons that had been discharged had missed their mark.

  An Englishman stood at the helm, but he was not dressed as a naval captain, but rather a lord.

  “What in bloody hell?” she muttered to herself. Perhaps it wasn’t Titus after all. She had to investigate.

  Her finger tingled as she descended the stairs and ran through the gate, down the path toward the docks.

  “Row me out!” she ordered.

  “Nay, my lady, ’tis too dangerous.”

  “Then I’ll do it myself.” She started to shove a row boat to the shore.

  “Nay, nay! Granuaille will have my head.”

  “I will have your head, for when Granuaille is gone, who do ye think will rule? And who do ye think will remember that ye weren’t very good at following orders?” Antónia hated to pull on that vicious hat, but it needed to be done to be heard, to be obeyed.

  “Aye, my lady. Aye. Allow me.”

  Several guards pushed the boat into the water, with her inside. They climbed in surrounding her like a human shield and rowed her out to the Lady Hook.

  When she arrived, she started to climb the rope ladder only to see Sweeney’s smiling face at the top.

  “I see I don’t need to make good on my promise to bring the English sot to ye, Annie, for he’s done a good job of finding ye himself.”

  “The Theodosia?”

  “Aye. A grand statement, if I ever saw one.”

  Sweeney pulled her over the side as the Theodosia sailed closer and then she could hear Titus’ voice carrying on the wind.

  “By order of the queen, I have come to collect Lady Antónia Burke—my bride. Come willingly, else I be compelled to board your ship and take what is mine, for this Sea Dog has letters of marque, and won’t hesitate to make good on them.”

  “Alas, we are at an impasse, Captain, for there is no lady aboard this ship,” Antónia shouted.

  Titus’ laughter could be heard across the water. “I will take her in whatever form she chooses, but it is my hope she’ll sail the seas with me, plundering ships and collecting doubloons.”

  “And what about Calais? What about a tavern romance?” she called.

  “We make the Theodosia our home, and every port our Calais.” A confession of love in their own language.

  Antónia’s heart lurched and she stared down at her finger. The ring had turned from black to a brilliant red.

  “I would sail the earth with ye, English.”

  “And I you, pirate wench.”

  Sweeney tossed the grappling hooks, tugging the ships close as Antónia climbed onto the rail. She barely waited for the distance to close before leaping through the air. Titus caught her in his arms, swinging her around in a circle, his eyes alight with pleasure, happiness and love.

  “I love you, pirate wench,” he whispered.

  “I love ye, too, English.”

  Antónia wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up, just as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips collided in heated passion, longing. How could she ever have imagined a life without him?

  “How can this be?” she asked.

  “’Tis fate.”

  “I don’t believe in such things.”

  “Then believe in us, my love.”

  “I do. I do.”

  Titus lifted her into his arms and shouted, “Pardon us, we’ve business to discuss. An addendum to write.”

  “Best keep the sails low,” Antónia teased, repeating his words from their first transaction. “And prepare to settle in. Storms brewing and we’ll likely not be done for a few hours.”

  “Days.”

  And then Titus was kissing her again and the whole world erupted into cheers.

  * THE END *

  Books by Eliza Knight

  The Conquered Bride Series

  Conquered by the Highlander

  Seduced by the Laird

  Taken by the Highlander (in the Captured by a Celtic Warrior Anthology)

  Claimed by the Warrior

  Stolen by the Laird

  The Stolen Bride Series

  The Highlander’s Temptation

  The Highlander’s Reward

  The Highlander’s Conquest

  The Highlander’s Lady

  The Highlander’s Warrior Bride

  The Highlander’s Triumph

  The Highlander’s Sin

  Wild Highland Mistletoe – a Stolen Bride winter novella

  The Highlander’s Charm

  A Kilted Christmas Wish – a contemporary Holiday spin-off

  Coming soon…

  Another Stolen Bride novella releasing fall 2016!

  The Thistles and Roses Series

  Promise of a Knight

  Eternally Bound

  The Highland Bound Series

  (erotic time-travel)

  Behind the Plaid

  Bared to the Laird

  Dark Side of the Laird

  Highlander’s Touch

  Highlander Undone

  Highlander Unravelled

  Under the name E. Knight

  Tales From the Tudor Court

  My Lady Viper

  Prisoner of the Queen

  Ancient Historical Fiction

  A Day of Fire: a novel of Pompeii

  A Year of Ravens: a novel of Boudica’s Rebellion

  Only You

  Part Four


  Ever My Love—The Lore of the Lucius Ring

  by

  Cheryl Bolen

  Chapter One

  London, 1788

  Annie slammed shut the dressing table drawer. “I am going to kill her!”

  The sudden movement and shrill words sent the cat in her lap into a hissing, leaping frenzy, which caused Annie’s maid to drop the comb which in turn dislodged Annie’s artfully arranged hair.

  Annie raced from her bedchamber and along the corridor to her sister’s chamber, Eliza and a still-angry Flufferness trailing after her.

  “What has yer sister gone and done now? Can ye not wait until I finish dressing yer hair, milady?” Eliza asked.

  Lady Annia—Annie—Childe shook her head. “The Thief has stolen my amethyst bracelet.” She paused in front of her sister’s bedchamber door only long enough to angrily bang it open and charged in like a lancer in battle.

  Fanny was peering into her looking glass, a satisfied expression on her face. She was dressed to perfection in fine pink silk, embroidered satin slippers, and a sparkling bracelet. My bracelet, Annie thought.

  Unlike her now-livid twin, Fanny’s lightly powdered hair was styled in the latest fashion, piled elegantly upon her head. Her impeccable appearance was polished off with a strategically placed patch on her left cheek.

  Annie squinted as she peered at her sister’s cheeks. Mama’s French rouge! Of course, Fanny, with her larcenous persuasion, had no compunction about helping herself to their mother’s rouge.

  Anyone observing Annie’s twin would never take so angelic looking a girl for a thief.

  The two sisters’ eyes met. Annie’s glare indicated she was capable of fratricide. For a fraction of a second, fear registered in Fanny’s eyes, then she turned up her nose and spoke haughtily. “Pray, why do you look at me as if I’d just escaped from Bedlam?”

  “Not Bedlam,” Annie hissed. “Newgate. Can the daughter of an earl be hanged as a thief?”

  Fanny rolled her eyes. “If this is about your Rousseau, I can explain. I wanted to read just one passage so I could converse intelligently with Mr. Douglass, then I planned to return it.”

  Annie’s anger singed. “You took my Rousseau too? Have I not told you a thousand times to ask permission before helping yourself to property that is not yours?”

  “It was only going to be for an hour or two.”

  Annie folded her arms across the lace-trimmed bodice of her dress and glared at Fanny from beneath lowered brows. “A perfect example of your shallowness. You’re too lazy to read the whole of any book which will enrich your mind. You’re a cheat. And a thief.”

  “I am not a thief!” Fanny’s protest was even louder than Annie’s accusation.

  “You are too! Yesterday it was my diamond hair combs. Today it’s my amethyst bracelet.”

  “So that’s what this is about? You’re angry because I borrowed you bracelet?”

  “Stole it. Why can you not wear your diamond one? I need mine tonight.”

  Flufferness leapt onto Fanny’s dressing table, scattering perfume bottles and jewelry, and settled her paws in Lady Tolworth’s rouge pot.

  “Get your wretched animal out of here!”

  Annie crossed the chamber and lifted her cat. “How dare you order me—or my cat—about.” She tried to give the animal a cuddle, but the contrary feline wanted no part of it. “And my cat has a name.”

  The door to Fanny’s chamber burst open, and there stood Lady Tolworth. “I could hear you two screeching like banshees. What is it now?” She scowled at Annie but did not pause for a response. “I declare, I never heard of sisters arguing like the two of you. And to think, you’re twins! You may look exactly the same—when . . .” Lady Tolworth paused once more to scowl at Annie, “ . . .when Annie deigns to make herself presentable—but never were two sisters more opposed in nature.” Another scowl was directed at Annie. “I don’t know why you cannot be more like Fanny.” Her gaze went to the messy dressing table. “Whatever happened here?”

  Fanny frowned. “Annie’s cat.”

  Lady Tolworth pulled the bell for the butler.

  Annie seethed. “I have no desire to be a thief. Even if that thief displays a pretty countenance.”

  Lady Tolworth’s eyes narrowed. “I will not permit you to call your sister a thief.”

  Annie looked to her maid for support, but Eliza was quietly exiting Fanny’s bedchamber. Coward.

  When the butler came, her ladyship said, “Pray, Dobbs, do remove this disobedient cat from both of my daughters’ bedchambers.”

  Pouting, Annie attempted to hug her cat before the poor thing was taken to the dungeon, but Fluffferness was in no mood for such a display.

  Unbeknownst to Annie, the cat’s paw left a rouge stamp upon her left cheek.

  Fanny moved to their mother, smiling and joining arms. “We must go down to dinner. I am massively anxious to meet the Duke of Axminster.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Tolworth said, “What a splendid match he would be for you, dearest. He’s not only handsome and very, very wealthy, but he’s a duke!” She patted Fanny’s hand, then turned back to Annie. “Is that the best Eliza could do with your hair?” Not allowing a response, she sighed and continued. “You must come as you are. It would be epically rude to be late at one’s own house with so distinguished a guest.”

  Annie followed behind. “I hope the duke falls in love with Fanny. I can’t be rid of The Thief too soon.”

  “You know you would miss her.”

  In this, Mama was correct.

  * * *

  Alexander Halsey, the Duke of Axminster, did not attend assemblies. He avoided Ranelagh pleasure gardens as consistently as he boycotted balls. To preserve his ducal peace, he made it a general rule that he never attended functions where matchmaking mamas and unwed damsels would contrive to snare him with their beauty, accomplishments, and dazzling wit. He’d yet to meet a lady in whom that trio of attributes combined.

  He had made an exception tonight.

  He had agreed to dine with Lord Tolworth even knowing the earl was father to two reputed beauties his countess was anxious to marry off—especially to a duke.

  Dining with the man Alex considered the wisest and most respected member of the House of Lords was worth sitting through a dinner in which Lady Tolworth would sing the praises of her twin girls. Alex fully expected to be informed that the beauties could sing like nightingales. That the Childe girls could dance with the grace of a swan was also sure to be affirmed. It would not surprise him if Lady Tolworth just happened to mention that her accomplished daughters presided over a salon brimming with besotted admirers every day they were in the Capital.

  Once his coachman knocked upon the Tolworth’s door and announced his master, the duke was greeted in a most peculiar manner. The butler, who was holding a fat cat, directed that animal’s posterior toward Alex’s face. A most singular occurrence, to be sure.

  That servant showed Alex to the drawing room. A short time later Lady Tolworth and her twins entered the chamber, and he stood. His quick glance confirmed the twins were possibly identical, slender, and taller than average. Pretty, too. As a gentleman, he directed his attentions on their mother. “Ah, Lady Tolworth, I thought for a moment Lord Tolworth must have three daughters,” Alex flattered when the host presented his wife.

  “Your grace is far too kind.” Her lashes lowered, then her glance lifted to the daughter nearest her. “Allow me to present to you my daughter, Lady Fannia.”

  There was no coy dropping of lashes with this miss. She flashed a brilliant smile upon him as she curtsied, never removing her sparkling gaze from his. “I cannot deny what a pleasure it is to meet you, your grace. Though you never attend assemblies, we’ve heard much about you. How gratifying it is to finally make your acquaintance.”

  He was immediately struck over her face. It was, quite possibly, the finest bone structure he’d ever beheld. Her cheekbones were high, the light brown brows perfectly arched, her a
quiline nose sheer perfection, and her full mouth as flawless as the rest of the face. There was a delicacy about her fair colouring and slender appearance that was at odds with the confidence she exuded.

  “And it’s a pleasure to meet the Childe sisters.” He eyed the second one. Then he quickly looked back at Lady Fannia to confirm that they were indeed twins. He felt certain they were, but this second one seemed vastly different. She possessed the same remarkable face, but instead of a discreet patch of dark velvet as Lady Fannia wore, this sister’s cheek was adorned with a red cat’s paw. How singular. There was also the matter of this twin’s hair. It looked as if she had just climbed from her bed, and unlike her sister, she wore no jewelry.

  Lord Tolworth stepped up and introduced this sister. “Your grace, it is my pleasure to present my daughter Lady Annia to you. It is the custom in my wife’s family to give the daughters old Roman names, in case you were wondering. We call the twins Annie and Fanny.”

  “Ah, the rhyming Childes,” Alex quipped.

  “Indeed,” Lord Tolworth said.

  The much more shy Lady Annia stepped forward, but only barely met his gaze before lowering her lashes and dipping into a curtsy. Alex would wager this sister, unlike her mother, did not avert her gaze from coyness. She appeared genuinely reticent. Even if she bore a cat’s paw upon her very pretty cheek.

  “I am charmed,” Alex said to the more modest twin.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I look forward to hearing you discuss Parliament.”

  Of the hundreds of maidens he’d met, this was the first who admitted to an interest in politics. How singular.

  “Watch out, your grace, or my Annie will talk your head off about Parliament.” Under his breath, Lord Tolworth mumbled, “Should have been a son.” He sighed. “Dinner awaits. If you would be so kind, your grace, as to lead Lady Tolworth into the dining room.”

  As Alex expected, a Childe sister sat at each side of him, and their mother was close enough to directly address him. They were the only three ladies at the gathering. Lord Tolworth had invited several leading members of both houses of Parliament.

  Alex was in his element when surrounded by leaders of the government. He could not wait until dinner was finished, the women left, and the men could drink port and discuss politics.