The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3)

by Stella Riley

  His lungs heaving and his heart thundering in his chest, Francis gasped, ‘I’m so glad you’re on my side.’

  Inside the kitchen, Athenais and Pauline looked at each other.

  ‘Well,’ said Pauline, at length. ‘That was fun. But now I suppose we’d better set some water to heat.’

  ‘So they can both take a bath?’

  ‘So Francis can soak his shoulder before it’s so stiff he can’t move it,’ came the arid reply. And then, in a furious undertone, ‘Men! No damned sense whatsoever. Why didn’t they start this a week ago?’

  ‘Start what?’ asked Athenais, her eyes once more on Ashley as he sheathed his sword and went to pick up his coat.

  ‘Nothing.’ Pauline handed her a pair of buckets and said, ‘Go and tell the Colonel to fill these. Since he’s feeling so spry, he might as well be useful.’

  A little later, while Pauline ministered to Francis’s aches and pains and Ashley had disappeared to wash and change his shirt, Athenais hovered aimlessly in the parlour for a few minutes and then, without really thinking about it, wandered upstairs to her bedchamber.

  Ashley stood at the wash-stand, naked to the waist. Something hot and unexpected curled in Athenais’s stomach and she froze, staring at the play of muscles in his back as he rubbed a damp cloth over his arms. Then, seeming to sense that she was there, he dropped the cloth in the basin with one hand whilst reaching for his shirt with the other.

  She said huskily, ‘I could wash your back.’

  He half-turned, slanting an arrested, sideways glance. ‘Could you?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. If you like.’

  Ashley decided he’d like it very much. Too much, probably – which suggested that he probably ought to refuse. But she looked … she looked as if she wanted to; and that was the kind of progress he’d neither expected nor even permitted himself to hope for as yet. So he smiled and said, ‘I would. Thank you.’

  Athenais wrung out the cloth and reached up to lift his hair away from his shoulders. It felt heavy and soft in her fingers. Her throat tightened and her mouth felt dry. She began to wash his back, aware that his muscles were tense and he was standing absolutely motionless, his head slightly downcast. Her hands started to tremble and she didn’t know why any more than she understood the sensations that seemed to be waking inside her. It wasn’t desire that she felt, not quite. But it was something not so very far distant.

  Ashley concentrated on keeping his breathing even and his body under control. This was the nearest they had come to intimacy since that fateful night. He could feel the slight tremor in her fingers and wondered if she was perhaps less ready for it than she had thought. He told himself not to read more into it than there was and not to start looking for further, similar developments. Unfortunately, he couldn’t prevent a tiny seed of hope taking root and refusing to be stamped out.

  Athenais reached for the towel and, very much more slowly than was necessary, dried him off. She would have liked to slide her hands round his waist and lean her cheek against his shoulder-blades for a moment but she knew that she mustn’t do it. Ashley wouldn’t touch her unless she indicated that she was willing – so it would be unfair to do anything that might be construed as an invitation until she was sure she was ready. Until she was sure she could lie in his arms without hearing d’Auxerre’s voice in her head.

  I want you to remember this next time the bastard Englishman tries to bed you.

  She shoved the thought away, started folding the towel and searched for something to say to break the silence. Finally, ‘Why have you and Francis suddenly decided to practice your sword-play?’

  Ashley cast a glance over his shoulder, saw the sudden darkness in her eyes and immediately pulled on his shirt.

  ‘Francis thinks Pauline will like him better with muscles.’

  The darkness faded and she responded to the smile in his voice.

  ‘He already has muscles. And she likes him well enough as he is.’

  ‘True. But his personal confidence is at a very low ebb, poor fellow,’ replied Ashley, perjuring Francis without a second thought. Then, ‘Pardon my asking – but what do you know about his musculature?’

  ‘Enough.’ The smile widened and became decidedly naughty. ‘But a lot less than I know about yours.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Francis has begged me to favour him with another bout tomorrow. It would be a shame if I felt the need to punish him a little.’

  ‘From what I saw, you did enough of that today,’ she replied frankly. ‘Pauline’s cross. With both of you, I think … but mostly with you.’

  ‘I’m getting used to that. And if Francis is clever, he’ll make it work to his advantage.’

  * * *

  Sitting in a tub of hot water while Pauline massaged his aching shoulder, Francis was attempting to do just that. He said, ‘God, that feels good.’

  ‘Enjoy it while it lasts.’

  ‘I am, darling. I truly am.’

  ‘I suppose this sudden surge of activity was the Colonel’s idea?’

  ‘Yes. And it was the right one.’

  ‘Maybe. It’s just a pity he didn’t think of it sooner.’ She kneaded the muscles at the base of his neck, still thinking with a sick sense of dread of what he’d told her. ‘You’re not going to be much use the day after tomorrow if you can’t raise your damned arm.’

  Francis grinned up at her.

  ‘Other parts of me are rising easily enough.’

  She rotated his arm, just hard enough to make it hurt.

  ‘Behave yourself. There are more important things to think of.’

  ‘And all afternoon in which to think of them.’ His left arm surfaced and snaked swiftly round her waist. ‘Do you think we could both fit in here together?’

  ‘Not a chance. And stop that – you’re making me all wet.’

  ‘That’s a wicked thing to say to a fellow.’

  ‘Only if the fellow in question hasn’t a thought above his navel.’

  ‘Well, be fair.’ He pulled her face down for a kiss. ‘I’m sitting naked in the bath …and you’re here, bending over me and affording me the most delectable view. You can’t expect me to be sensible under those circumstances.’

  Between his arm and the rim of the tub, Pauline found herself trapped. She said tartly, ‘I rarely expect you to be sensible at all. Now let go of me and I’ll get a towel.’

  He let her go but only in order to stand up, sending water sloshing over the side to soak her skirts. Pauline barely had time to say more than his name when he stepped out of the bath and pulled her firmly against his streaming body. Then, in a low, enticing voice he said, ‘Dear me. What can I have been thinking? You really need to get out of those wet clothes.’ His fingers were already making short work of her laces and, the second her gown fell loose, he turned her so that her back was against his chest and slid his hands over and around her breasts. ‘Let me help you.’

  * * *

  Ashley gave Jem the gist of his meeting with the King, along with a few very precise additional instructions. Part of his mind was locked on what lay ahead at Honfleur. The other part was still grappling with the fact that Athenais had seemingly sought an opportunity to put her hands on his body – which the look he glimpsed in her eyes afterwards made less encouraging than it might otherwise have been. He wondered what had caused that and whether if, instead of joking he’d asked what she was thinking, she might have told him. The trouble was that, tomorrow, he’d have to tell her that he was going away for God knew how many days and that he’d have to lie about the reason for it. As a consequence, now didn’t seem the best time for inviting potentially painful confidences.

  He escorted her to the theatre, keeping the conversation light and impersonal and then left Francis to bring both her and Pauline home again. And it was then that he realised he had no idea what to do with himself for the rest of the evening. He contemplated and then, for no particular reason, dismissed the idea of seeking out Sir William Bri
erley. He stopped part-way home at a tavern and sat in front of a pot of ale that he didn’t want. Then he went back to the Rue des Rosiers and spent an hour sharpening and polishing both his sword and the knife that habitually lived in his boot. And finally, suspecting that tomorrow’s difficulties could only be compounded by anything that took place between them tonight, he decided to avoid Athenais and go to bed.

  * * *

  The following morning dawned grey and surly. Up and dressed long before Athenais was awake, Ashley was able to slip through her room and make his way downstairs undetected. It was so early, he’d expected the rest of the house to be sleeping but realised, when he entered the kitchen, that he should have known better.

  Pauline sat at the table, staring into a cup of steaming, bitter-smelling liquid that appeared to have bits of weed floating in it. Ashley eyed it uneasily and wondered if it was the same brew that Athenais had been drinking to avoid conception … and whether she was still taking it. He didn’t realise that Pauline was looking at him until she said, ‘Yes it is. And since her courses came, no she isn’t.’

  Ashley’s heart slammed in his chest.

  Oh God. Why didn’t I think of that? She must have been terrified. But she’d have told me if there was any chance of a child. Wouldn’t she?

  He said, ‘You’re razor-sharp for so early in the morning.’

  ‘You think I can sleep with this hanging over us?’

  ‘Perhaps not. Is Francis similarly afflicted?’

  ‘God, no. I imagine you could bang pots together over his head this morning and he wouldn’t stir.’ She eyed him acidulously. ‘But you’ll be glad to know that his shoulder doesn’t seem to be giving him any trouble so you’ll be able to knock seven bells out of him again later. Not that it will do much good. He’s not going to be up to your standard inside twenty-four hours no matter how much torture you inflict.’

  Ashley drew a steadying breath and held on to his temper.

  ‘I’m aware of that – which is why I sent Jem to the Louvre to ask Hyde to arrange for some firearms. To the best of my recollection, Francis is a reasonable shot. Does that make you feel any better?’

  Pauline came abruptly to her feet.

  ‘Nothing about this is going to make me feel any better until it’s over and all three of you are back here, safe and sound. Odd as it seem, it’s not just Francis I’m worried about. I’m also far from ecstatic at possibly having to tell Athenais why you aren’t coming home.’

  And, snatching up her cup, she stalked out.

  It was nearly an hour before Francis materialised, yawning and looking annoyingly relaxed.

  ‘Christ,’ muttered Ashley. ‘It’s clear enough how you spent the night.’

  ‘A fair proportion of it,’ agreed Francis lazily. ‘But one doesn’t like to brag.’

  ‘Presumably, one also doesn’t like what Pauline would do to one if she caught one speaking of things one shouldn’t,’ came the sarcastic retort. Then, ‘Come on. Let’s try and get an hour in before Athenais gets up and commiserates with you for worrying about your failing physique. I had to explain yesterday’s exercise somehow so I told her you were suffering from low self-esteem – but one look at your face this morning will give the lie to that.’

  The sword-play went better than on the previous afternoon. Francis had never been a master-swordsman and wasn’t going to become one now; but his speed and flexibility improved as the hour wore on and Ashley taught him two highly unconventional moves that combined defence with attack and could usually be counted on to drive back, if not disarm, one’s adversary.

  Towards the end of it, Ashley suddenly dropped his arm and said, ‘Oh God. I nearly forgot. How could I have been so stupid?’

  ‘Forgot what?’

  ‘This.’ He gestured to his blade. ‘As coachman and groom, neither Jem nor I can be seen carrying a sword, can we? You’ll have to take them in the coach with Cyrano.’

  Francis frowned. ‘I will, of course. But that will leave you unarmed.’

  ‘Not entirely. There’ll be a musket in the coach.’ He reached into his boot. ‘And then there’s this.’

  Staring at what was in his hand, Francis said blankly, ‘You carry a knife in your boot.’

  ‘No fooling you, is there?’

  ‘Why do you carry a knife in your boot?’

  ‘Old habits. Jem does the same.’ Ashley shrugged and grinned. ‘Don’t worry about it. Just take the damned swords to Cyrano.’

  * * *

  Later, while Pauline and Francis slipped out of the house to collect their selected haul from the theatre and deliver it to Cyrano’s lodgings, Ashley distracted Athenais by offering to help with her lines for the forthcoming play. She grimaced but settled down willingly enough and was soon engrossed. Ashley wished that he was. Between watching the myriad of expressions drifting across her face and listening for the sound of the front door, the play was the last thing on his mind.

  When Francis finally sauntered in, Ashley lifted one brow and received an almost imperceptible nod in response. A little later, Jem stuck his head round the door and said, ‘Pardon, Mamzelle. Colonel – this note come for you. The King again, I reckon.’

  Ashley took the sealed missive and walked over to the window, waving Jem away.

  The note was brief and merely gave directions to the room in a virtually disused part of the Louvre where ‘all required items’ would be waiting on the morrow. A postscript in the King’s own hand confirmed that the Duke of York had returned to Paris.

  Thank God, thought Ashley. If Cyrano has done as he said, everything should be securely in place … so there’s only one thing left for me to do. And since I’m standing here with a letter ostensibly from Charles in my hand, now would be a sensible time.

  He looked across to find Athenais’s gaze fixed expectantly on his face. Summoning a rueful smile, he tapped the letter against his palm and said, ‘This is something I could well do without.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘A gentleman is arriving from England with a budget of correspondence and information – all of which is apparently highly confidential and would be extremely detrimental should it fall into the wrong hands. Inevitably, the result is that His Majesty wants me to go to the coast and bring both it and the courier safely to Paris.’

  ‘Oh. When?’

  ‘Tomorrow. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t given me the full details here – just asked me to report to him in the morning. Damn.’ Ashley crumpled the letter in his hand and tossed it into the fire. Then he leaned against the mantelpiece watching it burn and apparently deep in thought. ‘I can only hope some of the snags that are occurring to me are also occurring to him.’

  Athenais didn’t like the sound of that. Still less did she like the idea of him going away. She said, ‘What sort of snags?’

  He looked up, his expression a perfect blend of mild annoyance and resignation.

  ‘Organisational ones. Firstly, if these papers are so important, I’d be insane to ride off to Le Havre on my own. My horse could go lame or lose a shoe and there are hedge-thieves everywhere. Secondly, there’s no guarantee that this fellow will arrive precisely when Charles thinks he will. If the weather is bad, he could be delayed for days – leaving me kicking my heels in Le Havre.’ He stopped and drew an exasperated breath. ‘But that isn’t really what’s bothering me.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I’m going to need to take Francis and Jem with me. Francis for back-up and Jem in case messages need to be sent. And I don’t like the idea of leaving you and Pauline alone here – not even for the three days that is all this should take provided everything goes smoothly.’

  Athenais sat up a little straighter and shook her head.

  ‘Pauline and I will be fine. It’s not like … before … so you don’t need to worry about us. And I’d much rather Francis and Jem were with you. You need them. And I – I don’t want to think of you possibly facing danger on your own.’

  ‘It
wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done so,’ he murmured, smiling a little. ‘But I thank you for your concern.’

  ‘Don’t!’ She stood up in a flurry of skirts. ‘Don’t be so damned polite! I know things between us have been … difficult lately. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care as much as I always did. You know it doesn’t. So don’t insult me by saying ‘thank you’ in that chilly, well-mannered way of yours. It – it makes me want to hit you.’

  ‘Ah.’ Quite without haste, he strolled over to face her. ‘There you are.’

  Athenais planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you mean.’

  ‘My beautiful little volcano,’ he explained with a grin. ‘The one that always erupts when I least expect it. But it’s been a while … and I thought I’d lost her.’

  * * *

  Ashley found a private moment to acquaint Francis with the story he’d given Athenais and told him to pass it on to Pauline when the opportunity arose. Later, the four of them walked to the theatre and Ashley chose to stay through the performance in order to snatch a few words with Etienne Lepreux.

  Once back at home, the atmosphere was inevitably a little strained. Everyone took a glass of wine but conversation grew increasingly desultory. In the end and for different reasons, both Athenais and Pauline chose to retire, leaving Ashley and Francis facing each other across the hearth.

  Ashley said, ‘As far as I’m aware, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Once we leave here tomorrow, I won’t see you again till the inn near Louviers – so if you’ve any doubts or questions, now would be the time to raise them.’

  ‘Aside from being shut in a carriage with Cyrano de Bergerac for God knows how long, nothing springs to mind,’ replied Francis lightly.