Coins and Daggers

by Patrice Hannah

  “Gilgallon!”

  The guard’s eyes flew wide open as he jumped to his feet, looking quite startled and a bit swaying on his feet. Old Brutus was already up as well, brushing at his trousers and leaving the stable in quite a hurry.

  “Milord.” The guard blinked twice and stumbled, bracing himself against a stall.

  “Indulge me a moment.”

  Gilgallon nodded and stood upright, taking a few tentative steps forward. “Milord?”

  “Had I not requested it of you to watch the girl at all times just yesterday?”

  “Yes, Your Lordship.” A deep flush crawled up the grown man’s neck. Ulric could not begin to believe it. “I-I have, sir. I must have fallen asleep somehow.”

  Ulric eyed his guard a moment, taking in the man’s severely crushed shirt to his unsightly hair which was spiking out in all directions. “Are you drunk, Gilgallon?”

  “N-No, sir.”

  The manner in which the guard had stammered through even the easiest of words, Ulric was convinced that perhaps he had been. He was also nigh convinced that Gilgallon’s head would have fallen off his shoulders at any moment if he was not to stop shaking it so. Sighing, Ulric scratched his temple. “Never mind that. I suggest you let Cook prepare you a strongly brewed cup of tea to help clear your head. You are to accompany my sister, Lady Ryia, on a social outing this morn.”

  “Y-Yes, sir.”

  Ulric nodded and turned to leave, when he paused and glanced at Gilgallon again. He must admit that the man looked troubled. “Are you quite certain you are not drunk?”

  “No, milord.”

  “And you’d not, even in the least bit, been drinking?”

  “I assure you, Your Lordship.”

  At least, he’d said that with some grain of confidence. “Very well, then.” Ulric turned away, content with his deeds for the day so far. Now all he needed was for his sister to leave so that he could have a word with a certain wench.

  “Your Lordship? Permit me to ask, sir.”

  Ulric turned at Gilgallon’s voice. The guard approached him assertively now, his gaze steady. “Speak freely.”

  “The girl, milord. Are... Are you certain that she is just a thieving wench?”

  Ulric, relatively perplexed by the guard’s question, regarded him carefully and with great interest. “I suppose you can assist me in that area.”

  Ten

  “His and Her Ladyship are quite taken with you, Audelia,” Madame de Lucci said from the vanity. She glanced at the girl through the looking glass and smirked with pleasure. “Especially, Lord Dextrem. He is most pleased with your accomplishments.”

  Audelia smiled and ran her palms over the front of her night gown, picking at her nail buds. “Perhaps, they would be as so kind to assist me one day with my aspirations of learning the art of medicine.”

  It had become a fine dream of hers while passing through childhood.

  Madame de Lucci stood instantaneously, reaching out and grasping Audelia by the hands. “Look around you, child,” she said, gesturing at the grandly furnished chamber. “Let me remind you that we are currently standing in Dextrem House; its owners, some of the wealthiest in this region of Bascain. And such wealth has selected you to be their ward.” The Madame chuckled and shook her head. “Of course they have the resources to educate you on such a matter and even, then some.”

  “I would be hon--”

  “But you mustn’t overwhelm His and Her Ladyship with such talk, Audelia. Not yet. It is best you wait until you’ve fully become a member of the house.”

  Audelia opened her eyes, running her finger tip along the thickly bounded spine of the book. She’d not intended on entering the library again but when Lady Ryia had left some time ago, she had ventured here with the sole intention of finding something to occupy her thoughts with. It was either reading or allowing her mind to construct some plan of escaping Chastelle Manor. She’d decided that reading had been the more practical option of the two, seeing that Lord St. Rosso seemed to have eyes set on her from every single angle.

  Withdrawing the book from the shelf, she ran her fingertips over the cool leather covering and across the printed title on the top middle area of the volume. Confessions, it read. An interesting topic. Flicking through the pages, she landed on a random sheet and moved closer to the window as she read.

  “ ‘Give me chastity and continence, but not just now.’ ” Audelia frowned at the words and flipped back to the front to examine the author’s inscription of credit. “St.--”

  “Augustine.”

  Slamming the book shut, Audelia took a moment to gather her wits before turning. In truth, she’d had no need to move in order to know for sure who had spoken. It was a voice that haunted her at night--and day--in very, very bad ways. If Audelia was certain about anything at the moment, it was that Lord St. Rosso knew exactly how to sneak up on people.

  “Sir,” she greeted icily and slid the book back into the empty slot.

  “Ulric, will do for now.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Ulric looked about the room a while, studying the neatly arranged furniture and trying his best to not intimidate the wench. “Call me Ulric.”

  Audelia eyed him dubiously but maintained her stance. “I thought your name was Bryce.”

  “It is. But only a handful of people refer to me as so. For example, my sister. She believes if she calls me Bryce that it might add a little softness to my character.”

  A scoff escaped Audelia’s lips and she glanced upwards to see Ulric St. Rosso staring at her. His eyes bore an intensity that seemed to seep into her soul. An intensity that ought not to be there.

  “Is this where my chastisement begins for being discovered here again?”

  Chuckling deeply, His Lordship moved past her and retrieved the book she had been reading from. “One of the most eminent Doctors of the Church.”

  “Who?”

  “St. Augustine,” he clarified, flipping through a few parchment leaves. He then eyed her, deliberately trying to test her knowledge. “Though he had been a pagan at best.”

  “A converted pagan, sir, who stumbled upon the Holy Scriptures and became a believer.”

  Ulric smiled wickedly and returned the book. “You know quite much for just a thieving wench.”

  Audelia inched backwards. All of a sudden, the large room seemed as if it was getting too small for both of them. “You are an exceedingly wealthy man, that I can obviously see. And information is easily bought these days.”

  “It is, indeed.” Ulric stepped forward some more, just to have her cornered. “And you seem to be a very educated thief.”

  Had he been researching her past somehow? “I never said I was ignorant of the goings-on of the world.”

  “ ‘Goings-on of the world’?” Ulric laughed heartily. “This is Philosophy, Miss Rolfen. A subject only taught in schools and seldom to females. What have you to say to that?”

  “That you are far too inquisitive, milord.”

  “I have the right to be, Miss Rolfen. I’m harboring a criminal.”

  “Kindly step away and let me pass.”

  Ulric blocked her way with his large frame and folded his arms. He had grown some new insight since he and Gilgallon had last spoken, and he was more than ready to agree that the wench did seem far more complex that she’d been letting on. He owed it to himself to get to the bottom of it.

  “Walk with me, Miss Rolfen. I fear I might need to have a discussion with you.”

  “What type of discussion?”

  “Have you ever ridden?”

  Audelia gawked. “A horse?”

  The fact that she had asked sent all sorts of graphic images surging through his mind but Ulric banished them as quickly as they had come. “Yes, a horse.”

  Her mind scattered to a time when she’d ridden alongside Jocelyn on many extracurricular occasions at Madame de Lucci’s domicile. “I’ve ridden a few times.”

  “Sounds like enough. We shal
l take a tour of the estate and have our little discussion in the meanwhile.”

  Audelia drew back, eyeing him skeptically. “You trust me to take a capable horse?”

  Ulric chuckled and turned away, straightening his sleeves. “You don’t know the grounds yet, Miss Rolfen. And even when you do, escaping is not a task you’d wish to test right now. Especially when I’ll be no more than six feet away from you and on a very healthy stallion as well.”

  * * *

  Rubbing the chestnut mare gently on the withers, Audelia shifted in the saddle and glanced sideways to find Lord St. Rosso staring. He’d been doing that all morning--on their ride across the estate and even now, where they were taking a moment to observe what he had referred to as the ruins of the first Chastelle Manor.

  Green eyes narrowed a bit below furrowed brows, windblown locks of his very dark hair falling over his forehead. She thought, in the warm morning sunlight, he looked positively fetching.

  “Her name is Olearia,” he was saying, sending his stallion, Gray, in a tight circle around her.

  Audelia’s grip tightened on the reigns as the mare shifted with unease. Her own nerves were becoming skittish as the man stopped right next to her, only a hand reach away. “You named her?”

  “Right at the birthing.”

  Ulric then looked out, and thank God, for this gave her a chance to catch a well-needed breath and perhaps to study him a little. Lord St. Rosso might be a hard man but he was certainly not hard to look at, at all. Or mayhap he was just being polite on purpose, which really made no sense to her since he had no reason to be. Audelia suspected something must have happened to summon this sort of behavior from the very same man who’d promised to have her hanged.

  That or he was doing exactly what she had learned to expect from most men. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him.

  “Am I still in line to the gallows?” she asked, heart hammering as she did so. He did not answer straight away but continued to stare out at the wide open meadow as if he could see something out there that no one else could make out. When he did face her again, a sly smile formed across his strong sensual mouth. It was a smile she could feel deep down in her knees, which should not have happened seeing that she did not even like him.

  “I haven’t quite made up my mind on what I am to do with you yet.” The wind picked up a bit and swept a thick lock over his right eye. “But truth be told, I haven’t decided to have you hanged either.” Lord St. Rosso’s gaze dipped to her lips, to her bosom...and then back to her eyes. “You clean up rather...nicely.”

  What? Audelia swallowed her gasp and scowled, praying that her surprise was not obvious. “What is it that you want from me?”

  “To overwhelm you with pleasure, Miss Rolfen. Quite thoroughly.”

  If her mouth was not agape, then it certainly felt like it was. Audelia gawked over at the man and stuttered, trying to find coherent words to say but failed miserably. She’d heard men say words of such similarity before but never had she been the recipient and never had they ever been from a man of such superiority as was Lord St. Rosso. Either she was imagining things or going daft because she must be losing control of her faculties. Oh lord, the man must think her a tease or something of the sort to speak his wishes so freely.

  “I’m no harlot, sir,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

  “Well, thank heavens. I had no intention of purchasing your favors. Shall we take a walk?”

  He had already slid out of his saddle. “No. I think we should head back now. Her Ladyship may very well--”

  Ulric lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather and deposited her before him. A long raven-colored braid slid over and down her shoulder, springy tendrils framing her lovely frowning face. It took all his willpower not to give in to his manly urges and devour her right there and then.

  “Are you daft?”

  “On the contrary,” he muttered, ignoring the fact that she was, in fact, implying that he was. He even offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  Audelia walked away, ignoring his gesture and headed for a nearby tree where she could find a comfortable seat. Blasted man. “You may think you can sweet talk me, but you’d better think twice about it.”

  Ulric grinned and followed close behind, admiring the way her hips swayed angrily beneath her dress. For a moment he wondered if she even knew how desirable she was.

  “Am I to assume that you are not...innocent in the ways of the world then?”

  She turned to glare at him before plopping down in the grass. “I’m a thief.”

  “I doubt many thieves talk as prettily as you.” At that she rolled her eyes and looked away. “You are educated, that part is clear enough.”

  “Is this my interrogation?”

  Ulric reached upwards and picked a leaf from the tree before settling down in the grass himself. He made sure to put a couple feet between then lest he scared her and had her running off like a madwoman.

  “How’d you become a thief?”

  “Not everyone is as fortunate as you, Lord St. Rosso--”

  “Ulric.”

  “--and some of us don’t just live. We survive.”

  Ulric gazed at her, a pain visible in her eyes that he could not figure out but he intended to. Something dire must have shoved her into such a life of thievery and deceit, and it could not have been comfortable at all. Whatever--or whoever--it had been had hurt her deeply to cause such a pain.

  “I suppose I should offer my sympathies then,” he began, watching her reaction carefully. “I was born wealthy and therefore had no choice in the matter. But I do need one truthful answer from you.” She did not answer but he knew she understood. “Where is your family?”

  Audelia pushed to her feet, keeping her face carefully averted lest he saw the tears clouding her eyes. Family. It was a word that she hadn’t allowed pass her lips for months, simply because it proved too very painful to utter. Lord Bryce Ulric St. Rosso was asking too many questions all of a sudden and she did not like it one bit.

  “I have no family.”

  She could hear his feet moving through the grass, could feel his presence approaching behind her. His voice came directly, closer to her ear than she’d thought it was.

  “And that’s the honest truth?”

  Audelia forced her voice to be steady, her feet shaking a bit in the riding boots he’d found her just this morning. “Yes.”

  “A likely story. Shall we head back then?”

  “Just a moment.” Audelia stood there for possibly another five minutes before she turned and headed back, eyes free of tears.

  Eleven

  “It was a wonderful afternoon, Bryce,” Lady Ryia said, leaning against the closed door of his study and looking as if she was about to swoon. “Lady Shentil is such a great hostess, as always.”

  Ulric nodded slightly and continued to gaze out the window. Ever since they’d returned from their ride, Miss Rolfen had been avoiding him at all costs. Perhaps, he should have been more mild in his declaration of his desires for her but he hardly could have. The wench had managed to set a sudden thirst within him that needed to quenched. He shifted closer, making out her figure as she moved around the gardens, gathering a bouquet of pinkish-white daisies.

  “Widow Shentil is not good company.”

  “Take no offense, dear brother, but neither are you.” Her slippers clicked against the wooden flooring as she made her way over. “Lady Shentil happens to be quite the philanthropist, as well.”

  “And over the last few years, she’s done nothing but become more and more scandalous.”

  “And,” she continued. “She happens to be managing a school for girls. With generous funding, she aims to launch them into very respectable circles.”

  Ulric snorted. “Is my opinion of the woman supposed to change now?”

  “You need not be judgmental. She’s trying to fix her reputation in a very noble way.” The annoyance in his sister’s voice grew. “Aren’t you worried abou
t what people say about you either?”

  “That’s if I gave a fig about what people think, Ryia.” His gaze remained steady on Audelia Rolfen as she brought the bouquet up her face, as if to sniff them. “They can all go to hell for all I care.”

  “Are you quite done ogling my lady’s maid, then?”

  Ulric smiled and turned from the window. “Not quite.”

  Lady Ryia pointed a finger at him and scowled. “Do not interfere with her. She’s a lovely girl with a good temperament.”

  “She’s also happens to be a desirable wench with a very tempting tongue.”

  Ulric moved to lean against his desk, ignoring the stain in his sister’s cheeks. He’d always credited himself as a man who spoke exactly how he felt and with Ryia, it was no different. He wanted her supposed lady’s maid and he meant to have her.

  “There are several bawdyhouses in town, Bryce, with many willing females. If you want to satisfy your...needs, then I suggest you find one.”

  “Where or with whom I choose to satisfy my needs do not concern you, sister. Perhaps, you should be ecstatic that I’m not running around like a dog in heat and spreading my seed.”

  Ryia blew out a long heavy breath and threw her hands up in frustration. “My god, you are incorrigible.”

  “Thank you.” Ulric grinned and planted a firm kiss on her cheek before taking his seat. “Now go occupy your time elsewhere. I’ve got business to attend to.”

  Ulric waited until his sister left the room before unlocking the right drawer in his desk and reaching inside. Retrieving the dagger, that he had taken from Miss Rolfen the very night she’d aimed to rob him, he turned it over and over again in his hands and smiled.

  The scalawag who had been waiting and been caught beneath his window had none but blurted out her intentions on the spot and ran off at the earliest opportunity. Ulric hadn’t thought it worth the effort to track him down, not when he’d learned that she was the one behind it all.