Blood of the Rose (19 page)

Christopher entered the open door of the stall and saw Rhys had just finished grooming Rosalind’s horse. He was tying off the neat braids in the horse’s mane with needle and thread. A large bruise on his cheek marred the paleness of his skin and his left wrist was tightly bound. Like Rosalind, he bore the scars of his debilitating fights with the Vampires.

“How are you today, sir?”

Christopher regarded the man whom he now sometimes considered less of a rival and more of a friend. “I’m worried about Rosalind.”

Rhys bit through the thread before stowing the needle and thread in his leather pouch. “So am I.”

Christopher sat himself down on the upturned feed bucket. “I asked if she would consider recalling Jasper Llewellyn to court to help her, but she refused.”

“She doesn’t wish to ask for help from her family. She thinks it makes her look weak.”

“I offered my services as well, but she didn’t seem to think that was a good idea either.”

Rhys’s smile was strained. “And she is right. You know that.”

“But I’ve made great strides in my efforts to guard my mind. Anne Boleyn is no longer influencing me as much as she thinks. You know that.”

“But if you start fighting with us again, the Vampires will no longer trust you at all, and we can’t afford to lose that link.”

“Then what are we to do? Neither of you can go on for much longer without being seriously hurt.”

“We’ll do what we must, sir. We have no choice.” Rhys patted the horse and gathered up his equipment. His hazel eyes met Christopher’s. “There’s another reason you should keep away from the Vampires.”

“What?”

“That female—the one who looks like you?” Rhys looked uncomfortable. “She asks me about you.”

“Asks
you
?”

“Aye.”

“Since when do you speak with Vampires? Why haven’t you killed her?”

Rhys’s pale skin colored. “She is proving very hard to catch.” He shoved a hand through his thick auburn hair. “I haven’t mentioned it to Rosalind.”

“Probably best not to.” Christopher regarded Rhys closely. “And what exactly does the female say?”

“She wants to know where you are, and what your name is.”

Christopher struggled to conceal his surge of interest. “What do you tell her?”

“Nothing. But I thought you should know.” Rhys fingered his dagger. “I should probably kill her before she comes after you.”

“No, don’t do that.” The words were out before Christopher had time to think. “But don’t talk to her either.”

Rhys made a face. “She makes it very difficult for me not to. She seems as curious about you as you are about her.”

“I’m not curious.”

Rhys threw him a skeptical glance.

Christopher took a deep breath and voiced the suspicion he and Rosalind had shared. “I fear my mother may have had children with her lover after he turned her.”

“It’s possible.” Rhys nodded. “And that makes things even more complicated, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is that I can’t imagine being able to kill her.”

Rhys slapped him on the back. “If it comes to that, I’ll do it for you.”

Chapter 14

“L
et me come with you,” Rosalind said urgently. She saw the refusal form on Christopher’s face before he voiced it. “Why can’t I come?”

“Because neither Marcus nor the monk who holds the Mithras Cult records for safekeeping will want to speak to me if I turn up with a Druid.”

Rosalind sighed. “I suppose not.” She glanced around the cold, deserted storage room. “I should go back. I might have been missed.”

Christopher took a firmer grip on her hand and pulled her toward the large fire screens that had been abandoned in the corner of the room until they should be needed again in the winter. He stepped between the screens and into the small, dark, intimate space behind them, drawing Rosalind with him.

“Christopher.” Rosalind stopped talking as his fingers shaped her cheek and traveled in a slow caress around her face, tracing her nose, her mouth, her brow, and her chin. She couldn’t help but simply enjoy his touch.

His lips followed the path of his fingers, his mouth as delicate as a feather. She shivered as his hand slid under the veil of her hood and he stroked her hairline and down her spine.

“Rosalind,” he whispered against her mouth, “bide a moment and kiss me.”

She opened her mouth to him and he took possession of it, his tongue flicking against hers, his breath also hers now, and so precious that she wanted to stay entwined with him forever. His fingers continued to tease down the back of her neck as if he were playing a lute and was intent on drawing the sweetest sound from her. The kiss went on and on and he made no effort to deepen it. His hands didn’t stray from her head. Hers did. She brought her hands up to his shoulders and simply held on as he continued to kiss her cares away.

She knew he needed to give her this solace, this support, when he couldn’t protect her in any other way. And she gave it back to him, aware of the daily battle he raged against Anne Boleyn’s malign influence. Aware too, of his struggle to remain true to her and subvert that part of his Vampire nature Anne had deliberately tried to rouse and manipulate.

With a soft sound, Rosalind stood on tiptoe and tried to fit herself against Christopher’s muscular form. She wished she had her boy’s clothes on. Her heavy silken skirts, stiff embroidered bodice, and petticoats kept her too far away from him. She yearned to feel his skin close to hers, close enough to touch, and lick, and nip.

Soft laughter echoed in her mind. “
Rosalind, with such indecent thoughts, you will unman me
.”

She sent him an even more salacious image, her mouth moving over his muscular chest, down past his flat belly, and beyond to claim him . . . He groaned, but he didn’t stop kissing her.

“I cannot make love to you here. Rhys says you—”

She drew her mouth away from his. “You are asking
Rhys
whether you should bed me now?”

“No, I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s been
days
since we last shared a bed.” Goodness, was that her voice trembling like an untried girl’s?

He winced and covered her mouth with his fingers. “I know how long it has been. Trust me on that.”

She arched away from him. “Then when?” She hated the thought that she sounded like a shrew or a nag. “We need each other. Or at least, I need you.”

His eyes flashed a brilliant blue. “I want you. Don’t ever doubt that. But I also want you well enough to fight the Vampires.”

“I’m perfectly well, and verily, the Vampires seem less willing to fight at the moment. I’m not sure if they are scared, or if they are planning something worse.”

“I’d suspect the latter.” Christopher’s expression hardened. “Anne grows more confident every day, and the king is closer to destroying the Church in his mad pursuit of her.”

Rosalind frowned. “Which is why you need to go and investigate the records of the Mithras Cult.”

“Do you think I am derelict in my duty to you? I can only assure you that I’m not. My uncle is involved in this business. If I can find a way to get rid of him, I can perhaps bring down the Vampire Council and the Boleyns at the same time.”

Rosalind studied his face. She doubted that was the whole story, but she had sense enough not to tell him so. She had just made up her mind to press him further when she heard voices coming down the hallway.

“Kit, darling, is that you?”

Beside Rosalind, Christopher tensed. “It’s Anne. Stay here, and I’ll go out to her.”

Rosalind bit back a hasty retort. She’d much rather they faced the would-be queen together and killed her once and for all.

She grabbed for Christopher’s sleeve. “There is no one about. We could kill her right now.”

He pulled out of her grasp. “She is never alone,” Christopher hissed. “George is probably right behind her. Stay here.” Through a gap in one of the folding screens Rosalind watched as Christopher headed to the entrance of the room and bowed to the approaching figure.

“Lady Anne.”

Anne raised her chin and stared at Christopher. “What are you doing here all alone, sweet Kit?”

“I thought I saw a friend of mine heading for the stables, but I must have taken a wrong turn.”

Anne sniffed. “You’re lying. You’re still following that Llewellyn wench around, aren’t you?”

Christopher managed a shrug. “I have to keep an eye on her, you must understand that.” Another voice echoed down the long corridor and Christopher stiffened. So much for their opportunity to kill her. He recognized the exquisitely polite tones of Elias Warner. All too aware of his bloodthirsty betrothed behind the screens, Christopher approached Anne with a smile.

“Lady Anne, perhaps we should go back,” Christopher said diplomatically. “The king will miss you.”

“Who cares about the king?” Anne snapped.

Christopher paused. “Surely his majesty is key to your continuing success, my lady? Without his favor we are all but nothing.”

“The king and the Vampire Council think they own me!”

“But you can hardly expect to succeed without their help.”

“Ha!” Anne sounded as if her patience was at an end. She paced the floor in front of Christopher, her hands fisted in the skirts of her burgundy red gown. “I hate the king fondling and groping me, promising me so much and then making me wait. By human standards, I’m getting old. If he doesn’t marry me soon, I’ll never be able to give him the son he wants.”

“But you’re immortal,” Christopher said carefully, trying to ignore Anne’s unsubtle demands on his mind and senses to agree with her. “You have all the time in the world to conceive a child.”

“You know nothing—”

“Lady Anne?” Christopher cleared his throat. “Perhaps you might consider being more discreet. This discussion should hardly be held in public.”

“I suppose you are right.” Anne’s hands closed into fists and her dark bloodlust surged through Christopher. “Sometimes I’d like to destroy them all.” She half smiled at Christopher. “Although the king has his uses, of course.”

“As do Elias and my uncle.”

Anne waved a dismissive hand. “As do many slaves.” She grabbed his arm. “Are you going to run back and tell tales to your uncle? He’ll never move against me. he has far too much to gain.”

“In what way?”

Anne’s smile faded. “He will not aid you. His dislike for you is well known, which is why you are far better off throwing in your lot with me, dear Kit.” She stroked his cheek. “I understand you and want the best for you. Remember that.”

Christopher found himself nodding and she released him.

“You are right. I really should be getting back now.” She curtsied to Christopher and then paused. “I was merely expressing my understandable frustration in these constant delays to my plans to someone I can trust.” Her black gaze swept over Christopher and he felt a dark compulsion tug at his senses. “I
can
trust you, can’t I?”

He bowed. “Of course you can, my lady.”

Anne nodded and waved a careless dismissal. “Then good evening to you, Kit, and we will speak no more of this.”

Christopher waited until Anne had disappeared completely before walking back to the screens where Rosalind had concealed herself. She emerged to join him, Elias Warner at her side. Christopher could only wonder at what point the Vampire had appeared there and how much he had overheard, as his expression revealed nothing.

“Well, that was certainly enlightening,” Rosalind whispered.

Elias turned suddenly and punched his fist through one of the screens. “I knew it. Anne is going to betray both me and the Council.”

“With the help of my uncle, so it would seem,” Christopher added.

Elias shoved the broken screen to one side and swung around to glare at Rosalind and Christopher. “This cannot be allowed to happen. I have invested far too much of my personal worth, my reputation, my future . . .”

“And don’t forget your blood.” Christopher watched Elias closely. “Blood that the Lady Anne passed on to her paramour, George Boleyn.”

Elias stopped pacing. “The Council will never believe the Boleyns are working against them.”

“Perhaps they aren’t. Perhaps they are only trying to shut you out and not the Council.”

“That would be . . .” Elias’s breath hissed out in a curse. “I will have to speak to the Council.”

Rosalind patted Elias’s gold-clad shoulder, her tone both encouraging and conciliatory. “You should. Find out if Anne and George have undermined your position. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have.”

Elias met her gaze and then Christopher’s. “If I discover I have been betrayed—”

Christopher held up his hand. “You will tell us, and we will work together to destroy the Boleyns. I give you my word on that.”

Elias nodded and then disappeared, his expression lethal. Christopher let out his breath. “I have never seen our dispassionate friend so angry. This could work out to our advantage, love.”

“If Elias is willing to disobey the Vampire Council
and
deceive his longtime lover.”

Christopher smiled and bent to kiss her nose. “He has been set aside for a younger rival. That is a very strong motivator indeed.”

“I hope so.” She kissed him back and he longed to stay right there and woo her into temporary pliant submission. With a rueful smile, he set her away from him.

“I have to meet Marcus.”

“And I intend to go to bed—that is, if Rhys doesn’t send for me . . .” She leaned in to him and he saw her exhaustion, the hollows in her cheeks and the wary mistrust now ever present in her brown eyes.

Despite himself, he kissed her again. “When I pass through the stables, I’ll tell Rhys to leave you be. I doubt the Boleyns will be abroad tonight. So take your rest and dream of me.”

“I’ll try.” She managed a small smile. “Be careful, Christopher.”

“Of course.” He blew her a kiss and headed out to find his horse and Marcus Flavian. Worry churned in his gut as he contemplated the tangled path ahead of him. There was nothing he could do except hope and pray that out of the darkness would come a solution that would save those he loved—even if he couldn’t find a way to save himself.