DeButy & the Beast (27 page)

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

He smiled, flashing straight white teeth on his handsome sun-darkened face. Everyone was listening. You could not even hear the rustle of skirts or the sounds of the guests breathing.

"I have come to take you home."

Chapter 16

Anya led the way across the house to the south parlor. Sebastian trailed behind her. His mother, Queen Carola, had traveled to America with him, along with half a dozen servants. The procession was regal and colorful and decadent.

King Sebastian was dressed as always, but the others had made some small concessions to the culture into which they had traveled. Queen Carola and the two female servants wore simple shifts made of silk. Their arms were bare, and as the shifts ended just beneath the knee their limbs and feet were uncovered, but they were not naked. The four male servants were bare chested, but they wore knee-length skirts more substantial than their normal island loincloths. The skirts were made of the same colorful silk, in red, blue, green, and yellow.

Seymour and Peter and William held back the party guests who wanted to follow the half-naked king and see what transpired. They had their work cut out for them.

Anya had just decided to return to Puerta Sirena, so why did Sebastian's appearance and his insistence that he was there to take her home shake her so? Her heart pounded too hard, her mouth went dry.

In the south parlor, Sebastian took the largest, most luxuriously padded chair available. Queen Carola stood behind the chair as if protecting her son, a severe expression on her beautiful face. Her dark brown hair fell straight and silky to her waist, the green eyes she had inherited from a French pirate father were bright and intelligent. Like the other females, she wore a red silk shift, but she had added a crown and a necklace of coral to her ensemble.

Anya insisted that the servants wait outside the parlor, and she closed the door and instructed them to wait there.

When she turned back around, leaning against the door for support, she found Sebastian smiling at her again. His feet were planted flat on the floor, his knees spread wide. He had found his throne and was as at home here in the Sedley mansion as he was in his own island kingdom.

"I never should have given permission for you to leave the island. The giving of that permission was a mistake and is hereby rescinded."

Anya's heart lurched. "I would like very much to go home."

His smile widened.

"But some things have changed," she added quickly. "I have taken a husband."

Sebastian's smile faded quickly. "A husband. Without asking my permission?"

"He has put me aside," Anya explained succinctly, "but in my heart he is still my husband. In my heart, he will always be my husband." No matter where he was, no matter what he did... "If I do go home, it will not be as one of your concubines. Even if he does not want me," she admitted softly, "I will remain loyal to my husband."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows in a rakish and very royal way. "Do you expect me to believe that you, Anya, a goddess of love, will live the rest of your life without a man?"

"If I must."

Sebastian was not overly perturbed. "You will change your mind," he said. "When your heart is healed."

"There is more," she said quickly.

"More?"

Anya glanced at the queen. "I am going to have his child."

The room was eerily silent for a long moment.

"But you are barren," Sebastian said.

Anya licked her lips. "Apparently I am not."

Sebastian and Queen Carola knew the significance of this news, and they quickly came to the same conclusion Julian had. If Anya was able to bear a child, then it was very possible that Sebastian was infertile.

"A miracle," the queen said with a tight smile.

"The child you carry is a miracle, and a blessing for your devotion to King Sebastian."

"Yes," Anya agreed quickly. She laid her eyes on Sebastian. "Perhaps I can return to Puerta Sirena in another role. As a teacher, perhaps. Have you ever heard of Shakespeare?"

"No. Should I meet him?"

"He is dead, Sebastian," Anya said, slipping into their easier mode of friendship, now that the difficult news had been shared. "He has been dead a very long time. But he wrote the most fabulous plays. Oh, we could have plays of our own!"

"Perhaps." He looked her up and down. "Why do you wear so many clothes?"

"It is the way things are done here," she explained simply.

"The fabric is very pretty."

"It itches," she revealed in a confidential voice.

Sebastian smiled, and in that instant Anya realized that she had missed him. Not as a lover, but as a friend.

"I have an idea," the queen said softly. "Anya, you wish to come home."

"Yes."

"You could come home as queen."

"But..."

"No one but the three of us need know that the child you carry is not Sebastian's."

Anya shook her head vigorously. "I cannot tell that lie. I will not—"

"Your child will one day be queen or king. You would deny your son or daughter such a gift?"

Sebastian was Queen Carola's only child. If he did not have an heir, Carola's line would die with him. Who would rule, then? There might be war, among those who thought they had a claim to the throne, or who wished to take it by force.

"But it is not true," Anya whispered.

"If I say it is true, it is true," Queen Carola said regally. "If I say this child is Sebastian's, it is Sebastian's. I hereby declare your marriage undone." She waved her hand. "You will marry Sebastian, and the throne of Puerta Sirena will have an heir."

Sebastian was king, but on Puerta Sirena the power had always passed through the women of the family that had ruled for more than a hundred years. Terrence Whetherly had become king because he married Queen Carola. If they had had a daughter, it would be she who ruled. Queen Carola was mother of the king, her word was law. And she had just declared Anya and Julian's marriage dissolved.

* * *

In a matter of hours, Sebastian had turned the Sedley household upside down, even more completely than Anya had when she arrived. He chose his bedroom, and Queen Carola chose hers. A large chamber was chosen for the servants to share, where they would be close by.

They decided to stay for a few days, in order to give Anya time to think over their offer. Besides, Sebastian had taken quite a liking to the comforts of the Sedley mansion.

Grandmother magnanimously and hopefully offered the services of her tailor, but Sebastian refused to wear anything other than his loincloth and crown and one or two of his favorite necklaces.

Anya, who had still not given an answer to the queen's proposal, was more distressed by the fact that Margaret had moved in than she was by the presence of a primitive royal court in her grandmother's home. Whenever she turned around, Margaret was there. Watching. Smirking. Planning something, of that Anya was certain.

Peter was quite put out by the new demanding guests. He seemed particularly annoyed with the queen, who was always tracking him down with one request or another. Sometimes he saw her coming and turned quickly, heading in the opposite direction. Sometimes she followed.

Nothing disturbed Sebastian. He seemed not to care that Anya could not decide if she wanted to be his queen or even that it looked as if he would never father a child of his own. He seemed content, as long as he was well fed and his personal servants saw to his needs. Every morning they rubbed his body down, using the special oil they had carried with them for that purpose. For the past two days this had happened late in the morning, in the garden where his bare skin could catch the rays of the sun.

Yesterday Anya had caught Margaret skulking in the north parlor, watching the procedures in the garden. When the harlot had turned about and found that she was not alone, she had said that Anya's king was an animal, and should be kept in a zoo. The look she cast at Anya said what Margaret did not say aloud. That no matter how finely she dressed or how well she behaved, Anya was an animal, too.

Anya would never like Margaret, but she was beginning to understand the woman. Margaret wanted desperately to be loved. She craved affection from men, and became whatever the object of her interest wanted or needed. For Julian, she had pretended to be his ideal—sweetly seductive. With Seymour, she let her more manipulative personality traits run free. She flirted subtly with Peter, who ignored her, and if there was a man in her range of vision he had her attentions. Apparently no one man was enough; Margaret always wanted more. If there was anything at all likable about Margaret, Anya might even feel sorry for her. For some reason, the unpleasant widow was starving for love. And Anya suspected no amount of adoration would be enough.

Mealtimes were especially stressful. The food was strange, there was never enough of it to suit Sebastian, and Grandmother was fidgety. Having two scantily clad savages at her table, with six more standing close by to see to their needs, was almost more than she could take.

Uncle Ellis, who had surely seen many things, was not at all perturbed by the presence of their visitors. Seymour seemed more amused than disturbed, and spent most of his time fawning over Margaret.

Anya was lost. Where was home? Not at the Sedley mansion. Not as queen of Puerta Sirena. She had come to the conclusion that her home was wherever Julian happened to be, and he did not want her.

If she stayed here, she would forever listen for Julian's return. She would forever wonder if he would come home to her. And as long as there were people like Margaret around, no one would ever forget that she had once been a king's concubine.

Queen or pariah? It was not much of a choice.

Sebastian insisted on sitting next to Anya as they shared lunch with the family. Huge bowls of chicken and dumplings were carried to the table. The aroma was heavenly; at last Sebastian seemed satisfied.

"People here are very strange," he said conversationally, stirring his food and glancing down at Anya. "You have been here for a long time. Do you understand them?"

"No," she said succinctly.

"They seem to know nothing of love," he said as he began to eat.

"I have often had the same thought," she said.

If those around them listened, they showed no sign. Anya no longer cared.

"I think the women here have no instruction on the art of making love," he said.

Anya glanced at Sebastian. "This is true. How did you discover this sad fact?"

He waggled a spoon at Margaret without lifting his eyes from his bowl. "This one does not seem to know the simplest things. Not even the
Torcere de Flavia
."

Margaret choked on her wine, and Seymour went white.

"This is quite good," Sebastian remarked, lifting another spoonful of chicken and dumplings to his mouth.

"Margaret," Seymour whispered hoarsely. "What is he talking about?"

"I... I... I have no idea," she finally said.

Sebastian looked up and smiled. "Do not be ashamed. With the proper instruction, I am sure you could become an adequate lover."

"Margaret!" Seymour whined loudly.

"I... I went into his room by mistake, thinking it was yours," she hissed. "And he... he attacked me. He grabbed me, and... and threw me on the bed...and—"

Sebastian continued to eat, unperturbed. "I have never attacked a woman. She came into my room and begged me to make love to her, so I did." He glanced at Seymour. "I thought you had sent her as a gift, and so in keeping with your traditions I accepted her offer."

Grandmother stood. "I'm going to my room," she said softly. "Wake me when my home is safe once again for an old woman." She left the room with a regal air of her own.

Sebastian glanced down at Anya and smiled. "I am sure she meant well, but she lay there like a fish on the beach, with the occasional flop as she died." He demonstrated with his hand. And smiled.

"I never!" Margaret said, jumping to her feet. "How dare you?"

Sebastian ignored her. "If I did not think it would have been thought inhospitable, I would have kicked her out of the bed after the third time."

"The third time?" Seymour groaned.

"She..." Sebastian knit his brow and stared at Margaret. "What is your name again? I cannot remember."

"You're a vile savage," Margaret seethed.

Sebastian grinned. "That is what she said last night, too. Many times. She seemed to like vile savages, then."

"Seymour," Margaret said tightly. "Defend me. Kick this this—"

"Vile savage," Sebastian supplied as he began to eat again.

Margaret bristled. "Throw him out of our house. He is a coarse, uncivilized, liar."

Seymour leaned back in his chair, pale and tight-lipped. "No, my dear. I think it's you who should be packing." He glanced up at her. "You betrayed me. You offered your body to a savage."

"A king," Sebastian said with a wag of his spoon. "A savage
king
."

"And don't think everyone we know won't hear about this," Seymour finished. He did not look at all hurt. He looked angry, and vindictive.