Taking the covert route very few knew about, he and Giovani moved silently around the wall, then they dug their boots in deep as they climbed the sandy hill toward a secret gap in the stonework. No guard. Perfect. He stole inside, plastered himself to the inner wall, he and Giovani remaining shadows as they swept around the perimeter.
They ran in some places, ducked and dived about in others, then once they reached the main square of the marketplace where closed stalls and brightly colored tents were erected, he drew in the faint scent of the rich and spicy scents which still lingered from during the day.
As a boy, he’d visited this square often and reveled in the swarm of people and the bustling energy of the place. Treasures from around the east packed the marketplace, right alongside stolen goods from the west. Stall vendors would haggle with loud shouts and enticing offers, the merchants incredibly crude yet also transfixing to watch as they sought to sell their wares.
Near one closed stall, a parrot in a cage shrieked. Not helpful. Quickly, he scooped a forgotten slice of apple from the cobbles and tossed it to the bird to keep it quiet. The bird gobbled the treat while they rushed past.
He and Giovani continued through the city, then down a street where houses stood wall to wall in a mix of decorative pastel colors. Only one house beckoned him this night, the home belonging to Shira. Within the dark, he stole up to her red door and swiftly rapped as the gentle flutter of washing on the rope strung across the balconies overhead blew in the breeze.
Shira’s door creaked open and the seer appeared with a beaming smile, her wise eyes filled with unshed tears. With a whispered breath, she bade them inside, “Come in, come in, my emir. You mustn’t linger outside, not when your father’s spies constantly roam the streets.”
“We’ve taken great care thus far.” He stepped into the warmth of Shira’s home, Giovani closing the door behind them. After sweeping his headdress off, he grasped Shira’s warm and wrinkled hand then kissed her knuckles. “Peace be unto you, Shira.”
“As-salamu alaykum, my beloved boy.” She cupped his cheeks. “I have missed you.”
“As I have missed you.” He drew Shira into his arms, his next words heavy with emotion, “It has been far too long since my last visit. I apologize profusely.”
“I saw you would soon arrive and have waited up for you this night.” Shira squeezed him back, her bones frail but her hold incredibly tight. “You have brought Giovani with you, correct?”
“He certainly has.” Giovani removed his headdress and offered her a gallant bow. “Marhaba, Shira.”
“Marhaba, Giovani. Come and sit.” She released an excited murmur as she drew them both into her small blue parlor. “Knowing you would wish to have your fortunes read, I have already brewed one of my special coffees.”
“You know us too well.” He and Giovani eased down onto the low pillows spread around a short table where an oil lamp glowed underneath an earthenware dish propped on a wireframe above it. The heavenly scent of oriental spices wafted free, along with the rich fragrance of Shira’s special coffee from a coffee pot sitting to one side.
“Wait here. I have prepared food for you as well. You must eat with me.” Shira bustled off to her kitchen in the next room and soon returned with a tray holding three cups and a platter of cooked flatbread, stuffed dates, and dried fruits. She set the dishes down and served them each a cup of coffee before taking her own seat on a red and blue embroidered pillow across from them, her legs crossed. “Tell me, Anteros, what has been happening with you since your last visit. I am eager to hear more about your English lady.”
“She is currently being pursued by a suitor I don’t approve of.” Lord Haverlocky no longer chased after her, not when he’d paid a visit to the man and they now had an understanding, but Lord Herbarth was a different matter. The baron had managed to gain Olivia’s sympathy following the recent death of his mother. Three proposals she’d received from the baron so far, each one she’d thankfully turned down, but each proposal had only infuriated him more.
“In your eyes, no one will ever be good enough for her.” A knowing nod from Shira, the silver and gold bangles adorning her wrists jangling. “You should bring her to see me. In fact, I insist you do.”
“I can’t steal her away from England just so the two of you can meet.” Yet pure longing to do exactly that rushed forth.
“She is in need of a grand adventure, one only you can provide. Bring her to me as soon as you are able.” Shira sliced thin curls of cheese from a block of cheese and spread them over the warm flatbread, the cheese quickly melting into a gooey mess his mouth watered to taste.
“Ahh, Shira, I have surely missed your cooking.” Since there was no arguing with Shira, he instead helped himself to the savory flatbread. He moaned around a mouthful, the delicious and spicy flavors bouncing off his tongue.
“Eat as much as you please.” She beamed like a proud mother. “I don’t wish to see any of the food I’ve prepared this night to go to waste, and I can only eat so much.” She bustled away, then returned with a plate of nuts roasted in honey and dark carob powder. “Try some of these too. I made them especially for you and Giovani.”
Shira never prepared anything without great thought as to what she believed was needed for her guests. He scooped a handful of nuts and tossed them back. The texture and taste of the carob powder sprinkled on top zinged off his tongue, the rich sweetness of the carob the perfect balance against the saltiness of the nuts.
A kiss of his fingers in appreciation. “Delizioso, Shira. For what reason did you make these?”
“Carob heightens and boosts a man’s fertility.” He spluttered and Shira giggled like a little girl. “It will not hurt you and Giovani to increase the potency of your seed, yes?”
“I’m certain it will hurt since I don’t intend on fathering any children.” He pushed the platter of nuts closer to Giovani. “You need these far more than I do.”
“Sì, give them all to me. I want a wife who will give me plenty of bambini.” Giovani scooped the nuts and chewed with a grin.
“Come now, finish your coffee,” Shira advised. “It is time I read your fortune again, you too, Giovani. Who wishes to go first?”
“Giovani will.” Anteros needed another moment to calm himself after Shira’s declaration.
“Help me find the right woman, Shira.” Giovani passed his empty cup of coffee to Shira. “If you see any sign of her, you must tell me.”
“Let me see.” Shira spilled the remains of Giovani’s coffee onto a saucer and studied the markings she saw, her azure eyes glowing as she lifted her gaze to his man. “Giovani, you need to pay heed to my words. On the eve of the new year to come, the time will finally be right for you to embark on a journey across the seas with a woman who will unfortunately test your patience. Follow your heart. That is my advice. For if you do, she will be the right woman for you, the one who brings you great joy.”
“May I ask her name?” Giovani leaned closer, his curiosity clear to see.
“That I can’t disclose, not today, although she is your north star, your guiding light and will radiate warmth and compassion, intrigue and adventure too. Always keep her in your sight.”
“I shall do so.” Giovani squeezed Shira’s hand. “Thank you for your generous words of wisdom.”
“You are most welcome.” Shira turned to him and held out her hand for his cup. “Your turn, Anteros.”
“Be gentle with me.” He placed his cup in her hands. “No more talk of boosting my fertility.”
“We shall see.” She tipped the remains of his coffee onto his saucer and tapped her chin as she concentrated on the residual pattern before her. With her brow wrinkling, she lifted her gaze back to his. “Hmm, this is interesting. I see that you must set sail this very night and travel north. I’m afraid it’s about your father. You will meet him on the morrow, and when you do, you must be prepared to listen to him. He will insist on a change, altering your current course on a new pathway.
If you do as he says, heartache will soon be yours. Instead, follow your instincts and your heart.”
“What will my instincts and heart say?”
“That your angel is the only one to aid you in your coming plight. Allow her to spread her wings and fly, then you too shall see her strengths arise.”
“I don’t want to involve Olivia in my life, or at least not any more than I’ve already done.”
“You were never meant to live a solitary existence, Anteros. Don’t allow the relationship you’ve seen between your parents to influence your future.” Shira pinned him with a determined look. “There are even more dangerous days coming for you, a time in which you must trust in what I’ve said. Your angel will soon be both the intervention and the prevention of your death. Keep her at your side, day and night, whether you are on her English soil or sailing the dangerous waters you know so well.”
“You ask too much of me, Shira.”
“No, it’s time for you to leave the dark behind and enter into the light. All I ask is that you accept your new future and allow it to flow into complete alignment with your angel’s. You’ll never regret doing so, provided you cleave unto her, embracing all that you can be together.”
An impossible request. Damned impossible.
Chapter 2
Holding the fur hood of her black cloak in place about her face, Olivia hurried along the sidewalk with her maid only a few steps behind. The wind pulled at the emerald skirts of her day gown, darkness closing in as night fell. Up ahead, her driver opened the door of the coach and she picked up her pace and climbed inside. “Thank you, Haroldson.”
“Home now, my lady?” Haroldson flicked up the collar of his thick black coat, his nose a bright red from the biting cold.
“Not yet, I’m afraid. I have one more call to make. Take me to Captain Bourbon’s place of business. I need to check on Wills. The boy has been so lonely of late.” She’d become so fond of Wills, a lad who the captain considered family. He’d rescued Wills from men who’d sought to hurt him, then taken the boy under his wing. She settled herself against the plush burgundy squabs of the coach, while Lucy took the seat across from her. She was ever so grateful Mama and Winterly had no issue with her paying a call on the boy.
Haroldson closed the door and the coach rocked as he took his seat atop the conveyance.
The coach jerked forward and they bumped along the street. She set her reticule on the seat beside her, removed her kid gloves and rubbed her chilled fingers together. Once a little warmer, the brazier at her feet emitting a lovely heat too, she touched her locket and gently stroked the cobra insignia.
Out her window, vendors stood next to their carts as they hawked their wares, the late hour not worrying them. Two boys with caps on their heads and soot smeared across their cheeks dashed along the sidewalk, likely racing each other to get home before it got too dark.
A rumble of thunder shook the ground and lightning slashed the skies. They would be in for some nasty weather this night. She wiped the fog from her window and searched through the darkness. They passed alongside the murky brown waters of the Thames, this stretch of the river holding hundreds of ships at berth. Wooden walkways were illuminated here and there by the odd street lamp. Dockworkers with thick woolen coats hurriedly pushed wheeled trolleys loaded with supplies into adjacent warehouses.
A few more turns along the cobbled streets and they left the docks behind before entering into an exclusive area. Captain Bourbon’s club and public dining rooms held a curiously enviable position in London, what with his business being tucked away on a street not far from the busyness of the docks, yet also rather close to the elegant wealth of Mayfair. Patrons of his exclusive club could enjoy the main saloon and the gaming on offer, while other members from Society who didn’t wish to gamble could make use of the public dining rooms and enjoy a meal.
Only a year and a half ago his club had held a far darker image, but things had changed once he’d decided to alter the rules of his club and the patronage he allowed. Even ladies could now gain a membership, provided they too abided by the rules of the house. Of course, only a handful of married ladies had in fact procured said membership, while at least a dozen miffed gentlemen had turned up their noses at the change and swiftly left.
Haroldson slowed the carriage as they arrived at their destination, the stone building beyond her window holding a Palladian façade with French motifs and a gray slate roof. Once the conveyance rocked to a halt, her driver bounded down and set the steps in place before holding a brolly and covering her head from the misty rain as she alighted to the ground. A tug of her gloves back on and she stepped forward. Near the front door of the building, a stylish sign swung on iron clasps, the board showing a golden cobra with its head high and body coiled tight, the serpent hissing over top of a sapphire-colored backdrop. The same insignia on her locket.
Directly next door to the gaming club stood the captain’s personal residence, candlelight shining from a window or two along the second floor. She spotted Bellini, the captain’s elderly butler, bustling past one window as he closed the drapes for the night. Anteros wasn’t due home from sea for another two weeks, but Adrestia should be arriving in port in the next few days since she’d set sail on a separate mission to her brother. She couldn’t wait to see Adrestia and to hear all about her recent travels.
With her driver shielding her and Lucy against the worst of the drizzle, she climbed the steps of the club so she could enter the area which opened up to the public dining room. Haroldson lifted the brass knocker and rapped.
The door swung open and the manager swept forward, the burly man dressed in impeccably pressed attire, his jacket and breeches a deep shade of gray with a strip of white edging the cuffs of his sleeves and the lapels of his jacket. He gave her a short bow. “Good evening, Lady Olivia.”
“Good evening to you too, Mr. Hodges.”
“I take it you’re here to see Wills? The boy is barely keeping out of trouble today. Do come in. It’s far too cold outside tonight.” He took a few steps back and gestured for her to enter. “May I take your cloak?”
“Yes, thank you.” She loosened the ties at her neck and handed him the black fur-lined garment. “Where will I find our favorite troublemaker?”
“The dining room. He’s sweeping up after he knocked a potted plant over.”
“Did the plant survive the fall?”
“Barely. Oh, and before you seek him out, I should tell you that Miss Adrestia Bourbon has returned from sea and is in residence next door.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” Adrestia always sent word immediately when she sailed into port. “I haven’t heard from her.”
“She only arrived an hour ago. Would you like me to send a message to Bellini? Miss Bourbon will scold me if she discovers you’re here to see Wills and I haven’t informed her.” A pointed lift of his chin, one that said he didn’t wish for that to occur.
“Yes, please send her a message. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of a scolding.”
“Excellent.” Mr. Hodges flicked a finger toward one of the uniformed footmen and passed the man her cloak. “Hang this in the cloakroom, then step next door and ask Bellini to inform his mistress of Lady Olivia’s arrival. She’ll be in the main dining room with Wills.”
“Right away, sir.” The uniformed footman left, her cloak draped over one arm as he hurried down the redwood paneled passageway to the cloakroom.
“Would your maid like a cup of tea while she waits for you?” Mr. Hodges asked with a glance at Lucy.
“Yes, that would be lovely.” She touched Lucy’s arm. “Wait for me in the foyer.”
“Yes, my lady.” Lucy swept across to the foyer in her serviceable gray woolen skirts to the alcove where a group of chairs sat, the main gaming hall just beyond the foyer currently screened by several well-placed palms that reached high to the ceiling.
Olivia left Hodges and walked through the arched doorway into the hallway leading to the pu
blic dining room. From under her chin, she untied the silk ties of her emerald bonnet, slid it free and tucked a few loose strands of her golden hair, which had escaped her chignon, behind her ear. She slowed as she passed a row of painted landscapes, just as she did each time she wandered along this passageway.
The first painting showcased a ninety-gun frigate riding the high swells of a stormy sea, the captain’s gold and sapphire-colored cobra banner flying proud from the top of The Cobra’s mizzenmast, the ship named after its master.
On the upper deck at the wheel stood Anteros himself, his midnight-black hair blowing about his shoulders and the wind plastering his white tunic against his broad chest. He wore no cravat or waistcoat, the ties of his tunic whisking about and exposing the deep V of his skin. He appeared like the rogue gentleman he was, giving no care to conforming to Society’s rules. He walked his own path, choosing his own way, living his own life as he deemed fit. A rare man indeed. Very few gentlemen she knew opposed the standard convention expected of them the way he did.
A quick look both sides of the passageway to check she remained alone. With a slightly shaky hand, she lifted one finger and trailed down the molded strength of his strong legs covered in tight-fitting black breeches, the glinting length of his saber strapped at his hip blending in with the gold stripe down the side. With his booted feet planted wide on the deck and his powerful arms gripping the wheel, he kept his ship on course over the tumultuous rise of the waves.
She released a dreamy sigh, her heartbeat fluttering, her hand falling back to her side.
Anteros had always fascinated her. She’d never forget the elaborate masked ball she’d attended a little over a year and a half ago at Frederick House, only a few days after she’d first met him. He’d arrived attired head to toe in black with no other adornment save for the large diamond which twinkled from his right ear. His black satin mask had concealed his expression, making him ooze mystery with his hair slicked back and his blue eyes shining as deep and as bottomless as rich sapphires. He’d appeared dark and dangerous behind his mask, a man one didn’t trifle with unless they enjoyed said danger.
The Prince's Bride Page 2
