by Bri Clark
With the demeanor of a queen greeting a commoner—icy yet civil—she smiled. My heart sank in my chest; I had no idea what her response would be. “Henry and I have a special relationship, one that most English society doesn’t comprehend. I would expect you to be no exception. However, I will say I am disappointed. I expected a man of your position to do his homework on the people he invites to stay in his home. If you had you would have known that about us and the unique bond we have.” I shared the same stunned expression Abbass wore.
She never ceased to amaze me. Defending me and in the same breath insulting a powerful man as politely as she would discuss the weather. Abbass never saw it coming. I detected a mixture of awe and anger from him. Keeping her royal demeanor, she never let on she knew he was upset.
With the ego of a tyrant, he bounced back quickly. “Well, I would hate to disappoint you, Mrs. Rathbone. You are quite correct in your assumption. I did do my homework. However, my research was scarce on you. What I did find did not prepare me for you, quite honestly.” A menacing grin covered his face.
Marie maintained her unruffled demeanor. “I would hate to disappoint as well, please do tell me what is different about me than what you were prepared for.”
Abbass took a drag from his cigar, blowing out smoke straight up in the air. “My research said you were American; he is English. You two met while hunting and that your husband loved the sport and gambling. You two traveled together quite often. Nevertheless, are a bit reclusive. I was pleasantly surprised at your acceptance of my invitation.” He looked her up and down again…my grip on the trunk tightened.
“You have yet to answer my question, Ambassador?” she inquired. He met her eyes, but she looked away.
Good girl don’t want to go there.
“Well quite frankly, I was expecting a snobby socialite with unnatural blonde hair and a fake tan. You obviously are not that.” He held his hand out, raising it up and down in front of her.
Abbass continued, “I was out taking an evening stroll when I saw you running. Once again, not what I expected.” He arched a brow. “After seeing that you were a runner, I became curious of what else I assumed wrong about you. Therefore, I decided I would come and ask you myself. I hope you don’t mind the directness. I mean you no harm,” he added with a wolfish grin.
Marie laughed breaking through her cool pretense. He laughed in return. He obviously didn’t know what she was laughing at, but I knew. She was amused at him causing her harm. Her laugh sounded like the chorus of a thousand angels causing a kaleidoscope of emotions. It had been so long since I heard her laugh…even if it was fake.
Glazier stirred, insisting relief from the turmoil my heart was under. A life’s worth of experience helped me to keep her in check. It was the lack of experience with my heart that left me confuse about how to handle Marie. Marie laughed again and the monster in me growled with jealousy. If I became anymore tense, someone would mistake me as a sculpture. I had to keep my cool. I didn’t know what she was up to, and I wouldn’t jeopardize her safety.
“I can assure you, Ambassador, I am not alarmed. What would you like to know, and I will do my best to answer you.” Her voice came out warmer, sweeter.
“Abbass,” he corrected her. “If you don’t mind since we are being direct. May I call you Marie?” he asked.
“For now,” she answered, crossing her arms and looking less offensive.
“Marie, why do you run tonight? I would assume from your condition earlier you would be in your room resting?” he said gesturing toward the house.
“Your assumptions are all sadly mistaken, once again. I do run often. I am active. I enjoy being outside. I like to hunt with my husband. I don't simply watch as other women would. As to why I run, tonight I was restless due to the time change. This is usually the time I would run at home so I was simply trying to trick my mind, so to speak.” She was a natural, enchanting him, moving her weight from one leg to the other forcing her hip out, crossing her arms across her chest accentuating her long forearms and every time she turned her head that whip of red hair swung, teasing him like a string would a cat. He did believe that she ran everyday at this time. Well she really did, she just had sharp objects involved.
“Interesting,” he mused walking two a nearby tree tapping the ash off his cigar. “You are quite the intriguing creature. You remind me of the Egyptian Goddess, Neith. Do you know of her?”
“No, but please continue.” She encouraged him; threads of an emotion I knew of but had never experienced overcame me faster than Glazier ever had. Jealousy. Instead of the icy mists, Glazier cloaked over me a burning fiery rage started at the pit of my stomach then shrouded my body in fire and clouded the reason of my mind. He was just talking to her. However, I could feel his covetousness. Perhaps sensing him was an unwise thing to do right now.
“She is known by many names, Great Goddess is her most common. She is prominent throughout many cultures, not just Egyptian but Greek history as well. She was considered a protector, a huntress, even a goddess of war.”
Marie interrupted him her voice laced with sarcasm. “And I remind you of this goddess? How pray tell?”
He leered at her. “She is pictured in ancient hieroglyphics as unusually tall. She had beautiful, delicate features, her skin an ivory shade instead of the normal russet color of our people. She carries a bow and arrow, or sword and shield. She appears frail, but is ultimately a goddess of war, cunning and lethal.”
I had to stifle a laugh then. He had no idea how right he was.
“She also is pictured wearing the red crown of Lower Egypt. This crown represented the land in northern Egypt. It is distinctive. Your hair reminds me of pictures I have seen of her,” he finished. His hand lifted and delicately pulled at a loose tendril around her face.
That was it. I would rip his arm out and beat him senseless with it. Instead, I forced my fingers slowly into the trunk of an innocent tree so I wouldn’t cause any noise. The action calmed me somewhat, imagining it was Abbass’s head.
“Well, thank you for the history lesson. It was . . . educational." She smiled up at him, the light catching the shine in her eyes when she tilted her head. "However, I'm afraid I must be going or my husband will be searching for me.”
She graciously talked down to him. It was hysterical. The ironic part was when she said husband, she meant me. It scared me how bad I ached for it to be true. I, Henry Tenison, a womanizing spy, and soldier wanted to be a husband, to share my life with one woman. No, that wasn’t entirely true not any woman, the one specific woman made for me.
Marie.
She turned to head back towards the main house; he stopped her by reaching out and grabbing her shoulder. I saw the look across her face. I knew what she was thinking. How dare he touch her? The monster was raging as I struggled to stay where I was. She cleared her expression away spotlessly. She looked down at his hand and back at his face. He let go immediately, apparently understanding her glare.
“I am sorry, Marie.”
“Mrs. Rathbone,” she corrected him icily.
Abbass smiled. “Mrs. Rathbone it is then. I just wanted to know if you would consider allowing me the pleasure of dancing with you at the ball?” My eyes involuntarily rolled at his pathetic attempt to woo her after I had already forbid the dance.
“Ambassador, I do believe my husband has answered this for you. Why must you ask again?” Her voice was haughty as she spoke to him.
“Ah, yes he did, but I thought I got the impression that you could answer for yourself,” he challenged.
“Once again, your assumptions mislead you. You still don’t understand the relationship I have with my husband. My husband can speak for me and I for him. Therefore, I believe you have your answer. But I do have something I would like to say myself.” It was surreal how her voice could sound sweet has honey but sting like the ice-cold wind off a glacier.
“Please tell me.” His face was eager with curiosity. I knew what he was feeling.
I was eager to know as well.
“I would like to offer you a warning.” His lips tilted upward in an amused smile. She was composed, serious. “I would refrain from touching me without my permission, ever again.”
He laughed out loud, clearly delighted at the warning. “Or what?”
Marie's response was cool, but her eyes flashed with an angry fire that matched the one currently burning in my gut. “Do I need to explain? You saw but a mild display upon first meeting me and my husband.” As she spoke the last word, her eyebrows shot up, lending emphasis to the word.
She's talking of me. Even though I told myself this was all an act for the benefit of the cover, the tremor of pleasure that shot through me nearly undid me.
“This should answer another question as to why we are considered reclusive. Good night, Ambassador.” She took off at an easy jog and didn't look back, but his shell-shocked state gave me a sense of deep satisfaction. She'd dropped that on him—and me as well. The most convincing part was her complete confidence in her husband.
Me.
Chapter Seventeen
Marie
At the Ambassadors compound in Egypt
Making a careful but hasty retreat, I took advantage of the ambassador’s silent shock. I didn’t know why I felt that Henry would follow through with my threat. I just knew he would. My senses had been on higher alert as if I had a tail. I should have figured it was Abbass. This irritated me. Going on a run was supposed to allow me some alone time to clear my mind and get in a little reconnaissance on the property. Instead, I was annoyed and grumpy.
Suppressing the urge to fly at my top Glazier speed, I maintained a normal sprint until I reached the lawns in front of the manor. I would have to go back to the suite where he would be waiting. What would I be going into? Would we fight again? My fears slowed me to a crawl. Finally, outside our door I stopped and listened. It was quiet. It was dark out, and it felt late. Maybe he'd gone to sleep.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and surveyed the room. It was empty. A breeze blew soft and sweet from the open French doors. Strange, I hadn't noticed their presence earlier. I decided to investigate. The rustling of leaves in nearby trees enticed me to come further. Standing along the wrought iron black handrail that provided decorative safety, the smell of summer tickled my fancy again. Musky and sweet and, oh so familiar. I scanned my mind trying to place the scent. Then it hit me. “Henry,” I whispered.
“Yes,” a god’s voice replied from the shadows.
“How long have you been there?” I asked.
“Did you enjoy your run?” Appreciating the speed at which my mind processed sometimes, a curious inspiration dawned on me. I decided to test it out.
“I don’t know, you tell me.” I bluffed. Staying quiet, I waited. Nothing; he was silent. I fought an internal battle between curiosity and fear. I was afraid if I looked at him, I would see the face that haunted me the last few hours. Curiosity won.
I turned from the balcony. He moved from the shadows then leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. I let my eyes roam up his body and stop at his face. Anger no longer coated his features. In fact, he appeared thoughtful.
“Well?” I asked, leaning against the rail, copying his stance. The smallest smile turned up the corners of his mouth.
“When did you spot me?” Once more, he returned my question with one of his own.
Pleased my ploy had worked, I couldn’t help but smile. I racked my brain for a sly answer, something to keep up the charade. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I teased. He was in a full-blown grin now. Not good, my pulse accelerated. Maintaining distance, I kept my shield up and my hands held on to the rail as though at any moment an earthquake might rock the world.
“Yes I would definitely like to know. Will you not tell me?” he asked smiling devilishly handsome.
“I will, but you must answer a question for me first.”
Henry unwound his arms and put his hands in his pockets, looking down before cutting his eyes back up at me. “All right, seems fair. Ask away.”
Summoning up courage, I looked down. Keenly keeping my eyes from his, I asked what I wanted to know since we set foot in the suite. “Why all the foolishness?” They were four little insignificant words, but he understood clearly. His reaction clarified that. Pacing around the balcony, muttering something under his breath, he clenched his fist then ran his hands through his hair. It was the longest I had ever seen it, and he wore it well. My fingers curled harder around the railing itching to be in his hair instead. He finally stopped as his head hung low.
“I don’t know if you want to hear my answer,” he warned. He didn’t say he wouldn’t though, so I had a glimmer of hope.
“Please, I need…” I whispered. I couldn’t finish. All I knew was that I needed to know. There was no logical reason, rather just that, a need. My knuckles were white from gripping the railing so hard, my heart stuttered in anticipation. I peered at his handsome face, his perfect features torn, as if an internal battle raged inside his head.
The air was heavy; it felt like an invisible current flowed between us. Then suddenly he moved a little closer toward me. My blood raced to my head, making it foggy. He approached slowly, looking around, as if he was looking for someone. I was too busy concentrating on breathing, making a fleeting attempt to steady my pulse. His deep voice penetrated my mind through the sudden fog.
“You’re right, I’m a fool, a jealous fool. I was jealous at the attention Abbass showed. You know how I can be. You know how I act at the café. I am so dreadfully sorry. Can you forgive a fool, Love?”
I couldn’t breathe. I had the railing in a death grip; my knees sagged under the invisible impact of his words like a comet crashing through the atmosphere of my carefully arranged emotional shield.
He moved from his spot on the balcony like a lethal jungle cat, fast in his attack. I was in his arms in one effortless motion. Similar to when we were in Alaska, my arms wrapped around his neck as if they had a mind of their own, and I lay my head against his chest.
Returning to the suite, Henry kicked the doors close then he cradled me in his arms as he sat us down in a chair. In a euphoric haze, I clung to him. I knew it wouldn’t last. I didn’t care about the threatened pain that would follow. His special melody broke through the mist of my mind. I couldn’t even open my eyes, scared I would awaken from the happy dream, turning it into a brutal nightmare.
He massaged my arms only adding to the pleasure then his unique bass mingled with the action. “That was close; I sensed one of Abbass’s guards. I think we are fine though. We sounded just like a married couple. What’s up with you? You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were going to go sailing over the edge. Your face was all white, well paler than usual...”
The deafening sound cleared the fog out of my head. My nightmare had just turned real. Rejection yet again. He was simply playing his part as Henry Rathbone. It was all an act. He probably had it all planned out ahead of time. I could feel his stinging glare upon me, but I couldn’t move. I wanted to stay in his arms, if even for pretend. He was my pleasant torture, my self-inflicted pain.
Reaching down, he forced me to look up at his perfect face and his crystal blue eyes I could so willing lose myself in. If this was what it felt like to be in a Glazier stare, I empathized with his victims. I was utterly shocked with the expression on his face. He brushed his finger along my cheek, “Are you upset, Love?” I closed my eyes in rapture at the use of his pet name. Sure enough, a sniffle escaped, but I held it back.
Instead of speaking, I gripped him tighter and he in return wrapped his arms around me securely. He whispered reassuring words I couldn’t make out. I was in the middle of an internal war, my mind, and heart in conflict, each fighting for control. Glazier showed herself but I shut her down quickly. This might have been torment, but it was worth enduring for the pleasure, no matter how brief, even if it was a lie.
Looking up at him through
my lashes, I could see his face contorted in agony. This was wrong; I couldn’t handle him in pain as well.
“I can’t stand to see you sad. It just kills me. Please tell me why. Let me try to fix it. I know I did it. But as you know, I am a fool.” As he continued to berate himself, he clenched his fist against the small of my back.
“No!” I exclaimed. His grip loosened, and I panicked. Twisting around in his lap, I locked my arms around his neck. Laying my head against his shoulder, I braced myself for the torturous removal. He could so easily overpower me with his strength, but nothing could get me to outmaneuver him to leave this spot.
As the seconds coasted by, I waited. His withdrawal never happened. Then both his hands grabbed my face. A look that seared through the shield Glazier tentatively held up melted all doubts as our lips molded in perfect harmony. Hearts racing, breaths uneven, it was as if everything fell into place, balanced yet chaotic. He broke away and cursed. I tried to catch my breath. My grip grew tighter around him, scared of him leaving. Rumbling a low sensual chuckle, he brushed the hair that covered the front of my face back.
