Alisia laughed. “They are gifts, my sweet girl,” she said cheerily. “Tokens of esteem from all your young admirers.”
“Who?”
“The young men who attended you last eve,” she replied, “and the day before.”
“But I—”
“And there are other gifts, as well,” Alisia said. “Confections, lengths of cloth—fine wool, I believe—and even a joint of lamb for your table.”
“A joint of…” Maria mused with puzzlement. She could hardly take it all in. “I don’t understand.”
“Your father intends to find you a suitable husband,” Alisia told her. “And he has made it clear that you will have your choice of spouses. That is why we’ve had so many gentleman callers over the past few days. They know that only one will win you.” Ignoring Maria’s astonished expression, Alisia picked up another batch of greens from a table near the stairs.
A knock at the door had Alisia turning again to answer it, but her hands were full.
“I have it,” Maria said.
Still trying to absorb all that Alisia had told her, Maria lifted the door latch and pulled it open. She could not have been more surprised if someone had slapped her.
’Twas Nicholas!
In the interminably long days since he’d last seen her, Maria had only become more beautiful.
And Nick didn’t know whether to throttle her for leaving him or kiss her to the point of senselessness.
Male instinct ruled in this instance.
While she was still recovering from the shock of seeing him, he pulled her close and claimed her lips with his own. He savored the spicy taste of her, the scent and texture of her hair as he cupped her head, the lush curves of her body as he pressed the length of it to his own.
Nothing mattered but this.
He would have devoured her completely if he could, but the indignant shrieks of a nearby woman eventually penetrated his consciousness. At the same time, he felt Maria’s hands against his chest, and she was pressing hard, actually pushing him away.
“My lord!” the woman cried. “Unhand Lady Maria this instant!”
Nick kept his eyes locked on Maria’s. Hers were neither heavy-lidded with passion nor bright with excitement. All he could see reflected in those glorious golden irises was panic.
Her lips were swollen by his kiss, but they were trembling. She took a step back.
And slapped him.
Nicholas covered his injured jaw with his hand and rubbed. Perhaps ’twas not panic, exactly…but anger.
“Shall I call a footman, Lady Maria?”
Nicholas held his ground while he nursed his injury. “I thought you might be happier to see me, Maria,” he said.
She looked like a deer caught in a bowman’s sights—ready to bolt. He reached out and took her hand. Her eyes were shimmering with moisture and her lower lip trembled.
“I am no callet, Nicholas! If you’ve come to—”
Maria’s companion gasped at her bold statement, and Nicholas winced. By no means had he ever treated her as a common whore. True enough, he’d seduced her and taken her innocence, and for that, he admitted to feeling some remorse. He had completely misjudged her, just as he had failed to discern her true circumstances when he’d waylaid her at Kirkham.
Nicholas had no intention of bedding her now—especially as long as she resided in her father’s house. Nay, he intended to woo her as any of her many other suitors were wont to do. ’Twas as perfect a ploy as any he could have dreamed up for exposing Sterlyng’s treachery against England.
“Of course not, my lady fair,” he said, catching her hand and kissing it. He smiled guilelessly. “I’ve merely come to pay you my respects…and request an audience with you and your father later, at your convenience.”
Maria felt faint.
Luckily, Alisia had been close by when Nicholas left, to lend support and usher her to a chair in the main sitting room of the house.
“’Tis not my business, Maria,” Alisia finally said, “but he must have hurt you very badl—”
“Nay,” Maria interjected shakily. “Nay, he did not hurt me, Alisia. ’Tis merely annoyance I feel. Nicholas Hawken hasn’t the power to hurt me.”
She did not notice the slight elevation of Alisia’s brow. “If you wish, I can have your father—”
Maria shook her head. “I would prefer that my father not hear of this incident. Please,” she said, taking Alisia’s hands into her own, “do not tell him. I would not cause him worry.” Nor did she wish to disclose her foolishness at Kirkham and jeopardize her father’s good opinion of her. She knew that in his eyes, she could do no wrong. She would have it remain so.
“I don’t suppose he would dare approach you again, not after your…reaction to him,” Alisia said doubtfully.
Maria wrung her hands in her lap. Nearly two weeks away from the man, yet it seemed like only yesterday that he was wreaking tender havoc on her body, invading her senses, her heart. Would she never be free of the memory of those steely gray eyes raking her person with appreciation, or those marvelous, powerful hands working magic upon her body, her soul?
“Nay,” she agreed. “He will not return.”
It had taken nearly a week at Kirkham for Nicholas to hear of Maria’s questions about Rockbury and for him to infer her intended destination. To say that he’d been shocked to learn she was Sterlyng’s daughter would have understated the case.
He had suddenly recalled where he’d seen golden eyes like hers before. The Duke of Sterlyng had the same leonine eyes, as well as a thick mane of shockingly white hair.
And he was a traitor to England.
Nicholas had spent the last few days gathering information regarding Sterlyng’s reunion with his long-lost daughter. He’d heard what everyone was saying about Maria and her desolate years at Alderton, and had known the stories were true. He’d seen the signs of her harsh life, yet he’d never put the evidence together.
Since his arrival in London, he’d learned that Maria rode every morning in the company of a groom, and Nick was determined to intercept her today. From her response to him that morning, he knew she was not immune to his touch, his kiss.
Nor was he unaffected by her. He could not keep himself from recalling everything about her, from the moment she’d struck him with her fist on the road near Kirkham, to the intimacies they’d shared on their last night together. He had not intended to ambush her that morning in her father’s house.
To his dismay, he’d discovered that he could not keep his hands off her, keep his mouth from seeking hers.
He grinned. She was worth every bit of the trouble he’d gone to in order to find her. He should have expected her blistering response to him. She had more passion in her than a dozen other women of his acquaintance. He could barely wait until the next time he made love to her.
He would bed her again. Soon. But for now, he would have to bide his time.
Maria Burton provided Nicholas with his best opportunity to get close to Sterlyng, to prove that he was the one sending information to the Duke of Aleno¸n. Though Nicholas would have to curb his wayward appetites whenever Maria was near, it was not beyond his abilities. It would be difficult, but he could do it.
He would do it.
He turned his mind to the matter at hand. Maria was in the habit of riding down to Westminster each morning with a groom. She usually rode along the paths near Westminster, then met her father at some point for a cool drink or a light meal.
Nicholas intended to waylay her before she met Sterlyng. He must make amends for his earlier behavior and get her to accept him as a suitor.
To that end, he had ridden to a remote meadow on the Westminster grounds to wait for her. If his sources were correct, and Maria followed her usual habit, she would be here soon.
Nick remained mounted, but found a spot that was not visible from the horsepath. He wanted to take her by surprise, just as he had this morning. Her reaction to him had been purely instinctual and
genuine.
Clearly, she was not indifferent to him. His jaw still smarted with the evidence of that.
He smiled at the knowledge, and his body tensed with the notion of taking her to his bed again. Their one night together had been extraordinary. Even in her innocence, her responses to their lovemaking had been more spirited and intense than any he’d experienced before. Just the thought of having her naked in his bed, with her hair spread out across his sheets, her eyes locked with his and their bodies joined together, made him uncomfortable with anticipation of their next tryst.
The approach of a rider brought Nick’s thoughts to the present. Judging by the speed of the horse’s hoofs, ’twas a leisurely rider, and Nicholas had every reason to believe Maria would soon come down the path.
He wiped damp palms on his thighs when he saw her, and forced the air back into his lungs. She was as regal as any woman could be, dressed in fine silk and velvet, with a matching cap and veil covering her hair most properly. She sat her horse well, he noticed, even better than she had when she’d ridden with him across Kirkham lands.
He edged his horse out to meet with hers.
“Oh!” she cried, as one hand flew to her breast.
“My lady fair,” he said wickedly. He reached out and took hold of the bridle to settle her mount. “What a coincidence.”
“M’lady?” the groom asked as he came upon them.
Maria did not speak for a moment, seeming to weigh her options. “’Tis all right, Master Cole,” she finally said, turning in her saddle to address the young man. “’Tis Lord Kirkham. We are a-acquainted.”
“M’lady…his grace said—”
“Wait for us at the copse near the main drive, Cole,” Nicholas said. “I will not keep Lady Maria long.”
Maria did not appear to appreciate the way Nicholas assumed control. He believed she would have called out to Cole to keep him close by, but did not want to appear unnerved by Nicholas. Now that he knew her better, he saw that her method of dealing with uncertain situations was to brazen them out.
She tipped up her chin and rode on.
“Maria…”
“I have naught to say to you, my lord.”
“Nicholas,” he corrected as he tried to catch her eye.
She kept her gaze averted and shrugged.
“You are angry with me.”
Maria kept her eyes on the path before her.
“I cannot believe you left Kirkham just because of a few buffoons singing ridiculous nonsense outside your window.”
She gave him a cutting glance, then turned back to the path as if it contained the most fascinating scenery in all of London.
Clearly, he would have to take another tack.
As they rode silently, he studied her profile, the shimmering veil that did not quite cover her golden hair, the fashionable collar that teased the delicate bones of her neck, the way her gloved hands held the reins….
He shook his head to clear it of wayward thoughts that were of no consequence to his mission. For months someone had been channeling information to France. Nick had been grasping at straws for some evidence that would lead him to discover who the traitor was.
A beautiful face and an enticing body were not going to sway him from his purpose.
He reached for her bridle again and pulled her horse up short, aligning himself with her. “Maria,” he said softly. “Do not torture me with your indifference. I apologize for my…my less-than-noble behavior with you at Kirkham. I did not realize…I never thought…”
If she did not quit staring at his mouth as he spoke, he was going to forget his resolve to act in a gentlemanly manner.
“Please go away, Nicholas,” she said. If he was not mistaken, she was breathless as she spoke. “I am no longer an orphan without resources, without protection. My father intends to see me honorably wed. He knows nothing of what transpired at Kirkham—” she cast her eyes down in shame “—and I would have it remain that way.”
Nicholas watched as she pulled the reins from him and turned her horse. As she rode away without another word, he rubbed the center of his chest with one hand. Try as he might, he could not ignore the fact that he had wronged her, and grievously.
’Twas frightening. If his guilty feelings were any indication, then he was not as great a scoundrel as he thought.
Chapter Thirteen
It took no time at all for Maria and her father to develop a deep closeness. They never experienced any awkwardness that might have occurred between strangers, but felt immediately connected to one another.
During the first few days, they spent every waking hour together, catching up on the lost years. Though Maria gave only sketchy information regarding her life at Alderton, Sterlyng surmised exactly how she had been treated, and was tempted to travel north to pay a visit to his Morley sister-in-law.
“Please, Father,” Maria had protested. “That part of my life is over and done. I wish to move forward now. There is n-nothing about the past that is important. I have you now, and all my life ahead of me….”
“It goes against the grain, Maria,” Sterlyng said. “I should enjoy seeing Olivia Morley pay for her ill treatment of you for all those years. And for not contacting me when she had to know—”
“But I do not believe she knew, Father,” Maria said. “The Morleys would hear naught of my mother once she joined King Henry’s court and they disowned her.”
“Still…”
“I survived,” she said, hugging him closely. “And I found you.”
“No thanks to Olivia,” Sterlyng countered. “Do you know that I sent a justice to Alderton? The man directly questioned Olivia about your existence and she denied you, child. She lied.”
“I know,” Maria whispered. “That is how I learned about Rockbury. But I would move on, Father….”
Beyond Alderton. Beyond Kirkham…
Maria never spoke of her interlude at Kirkham. She had no doubt that her father would have ridden off immediately to thrash Nicholas if he ever discovered what had transpired between them. She did not want that to happen.
After exchanging words with Nicholas on the path at Westminster, all Maria could hope was that he would stay away. His presence did nothing but bruise her already damaged heart. ’Twas difficult to see him, to be with him, when she knew that her feelings for him were not returned.
Nay, he had come to London not because he cared for her, but because she had offended his pride by leaving Kirkham as she did. She doubted many of his lovers left his bed in the dead of night.
There was a sudden chill in the room and Maria wrapped her old woolen shawl around her shoulders. She felt the cold clear through to her bones, yet the afternoon was bright with the warmth of the spring sun.
She chided herself for her maudlin thoughts and brushed away the foolish moisture from her eyes. Everything in her life had changed. She had not only a father who loved her, but the security of his name and his home.
Her father had made it plain that he wanted Maria honorably—and quickly—wed. She was advanced in years for a first marriage, and Sterlyng thought it best to pursue the matter before her age became a detriment. He did not intend to rush her, nor would he make a betrothal contract without her consent. In fact, he’d told her that since she’d been given so few choices in her first twenty-two years, he would allow her to choose her own husband, as long as he was suitable.
Maria had no illusions about the marriage she would contract. Her father had introduced her to several proper noblemen, most of whom were quite pleasant.
But not one of them could make her blood boil.
It did not take much for Nicholas to improve his reputation in the House of Lords. He attended sessions over the next week, behaving responsibly and shunning his unruly cronies. He even put up a tolerant front when the arrogant Earl of Bexhill spoke his opinion, obtuse as it was. Nick knew that none of his actions would make him an intimate friend of Sterlyng, but would go far in getting the duke to allow him int
o his house.
To court his daughter.
Nick did not intend to wed the lady, but merely to court her as any other young man might do—thereby giving him access to the duke’s house as well as to the duke himself.
Sterlyng’s chambers at Westminster had been thoroughly searched, but his house had not yet been successfully breached, thanks to stout locks on the windows and doors, as well as the loyalty of the men and women Sterlyng employed. ’Twas up to Nicholas to gain access to Sterlyng’s private quarters in his own home.
He had heard of several recent gatherings at the duke’s house in Bridewell Lane, and knew that the purpose of these soirees was to introduce Maria to various suitors.
Nick scowled at the thought of Sterlyng marrying her off. He did not examine his reaction too closely, but merely resolved to see that he insinuated himself into the duke’s good graces as soon as was humanly possible.
The opportunity presented itself late one stormy evening when the king’s uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, came to his office at Westminster.
“Kirkham,” he said. Clearly ill and feverish, Gloucester coughed into a square of linen. He handed a letter to Nicholas. “This just arrived from France. Bedford asked me to have this taken to Sterlyng immediately. He also wanted you to see it.”
Nick took the vellum from him and read the French words.
King of England, render account to the King of Heaven of your royal blood. Return the keys of all the good cities which you have seized, to the Maid. She is sent by God to reclaim the royal blood, and is fully prepared to make peace, if you will give her satisfaction; that is, you must render justice, and pay back all that you have taken.
After reading this much, Nicholas looked up, frowning. “What is this? Who wrote it?”
Gloucester sneezed, blew his nose and replied, “‘The maid,”’ he replied with a shrug. “A young woman in the service of the dauphin. Apparently, she feels that the power of God is on her side, and she is demanding that we give up all we have gained in France.”
His Lady Fair Page 10
