DeButy & the Beast (28 page)

Margaret swayed on her feet. "You wouldn't."

"Of course I would. Good God, the servants are all listening from the kitchen, you know. I'd be surprised if word hadn't already begun to spread."

Margaret took a step back.

"Run far and fast," Seymour said softly. "And maybe the tales of your behavior in this house won't catch up with you."

Anya expected Margaret to do just that. Run. But she turned to Sebastian with a girlish trembling lip. "You could take me with you," she said.

Sebastian seemed to consider the offer, for a moment. Then he shook his head. "You are too unskilled to be my concubine."

Margaret went red in the face.

"But I can always use another servant," he continued. "Someone who will wash my clothes. Clean my hut."

"Do these servants rub that oil onto your body?" Margaret asked, wide-eyed.

"Only those who are specially chosen."

"Could I be chosen?"

"Perhaps one day—what is your name again?"

Anya stifled a smile. "Margaret," she supplied softly.

"Ah," he said with a smile. "If you serve me well for many years, Margaret, then you might be allowed to undertake that task on occasion."

Margaret looked almost smug. Like it or not, Anya knew the way the woman's mind worked. She actually thought that she could seduce Sebastian if she had the time and opportunity. Apparently she had set her sights on Sebastian now, and would become the woman she thought
he
wanted her to be. A wanton. A passionate woman. A love goddess. No doubt Margaret had her sights set on the throne at his side, as well as his affection.

"If she goes to Puerta Sirena, I will not," Anya said simply. "I do not like her."

"Then she will not go." Sebastian dismissed Margaret with a wave of his hand. "I did not want to take her, but did not want to be rude."

"He doesn't even want you to clean out his royal chamber pot," Seymour said loudly as Margaret left the room.

When the woman was finally gone, Seymour laid his eyes on Anya. "What's this about you going to Puerta Sirena?"

Anya lifted her eyes and straightened her spine. "Sebastian has asked me to be his queen." She took a deep breath. "I have decided to accept his offer."

* * *

"It's been four days," Julian argued, his eyes on the barrel of Milton's revolver. "Nellie and the baby are doing fine. You gave me your word..."

"I changed my mind," Milton snapped. "My wife says we need a doctor here in Miller's Crossroads, and you seem to be a good one. You can just stay right here."

The three of them met in the inn, where Julian now lived as well as practiced. The room upstairs was comfortable, but it was also temporary. Anya was waiting for him, and he thought of nothing more than getting home.

He clenched his fists. "You can't force me to stay here."

Milton aimed his six-shooter at Julian's foot. "I think I can."

"Now, Milton," Jeremiah began.

"Shut up!"

"My wife will be expecting me," Julian said calmly. "I told her in the letter that as soon as I delivered the baby..."

"This letter?" Milton asked, taking the note Julian had written from an inside pocket of his leather vest.

Dirty, folded in a smallish oblong shape, it looked very little like the note he had so carefully penned weeks ago. "Did you really think I'd deliver it to her personally?"

"You said you'd leave it at her house," Jeremiah said.

"Well, I decided it wasn't such a good idea."

"Let the doc go," Jeremiah insisted.

"If we let him go," Milton said testily, "the man who hired us will ask for his money back. I don't know about you, but I already spent that money."

"The man who hired you?" Julian repeated softly. "I thought you two were working on your own. You were going to rob and kill me, right?"

Jeremiah shrugged. "Well, no. We usually just do the robbing part. And we weren't supposed to kill you, we were supposed to get you on a ship headed to the opposite side of the world." He looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"You were trying to shanghai me? Who hired you?" Julian asked, his worst fears riding to the surface.

"I'm not tellin'," Milton said with a smirk.

The knife Anya had given him before he'd left the Sedley mansion sat on a table six feet away. He had not been tempted to use that weapon on a human being in the weeks he'd been here, but at the moment he wished it was in his hand.

The people of Miller's Crossroads had given him a gift. He could heal. He could cure. He had a power in his hands that was more potent than he'd ever imagined. And he was no longer afraid. With that power, how could he possibly wish to injure a man as he now wished to injure Milton?

Easy. He had no personal enemies. He'd never done anything important or fearless enough to make an enemy. The only reason for anyone to try to get rid of him would be to get him away from Anya. So she'd be unprotected. And he would do anything to protect Anya.

Julian reached out and grabbed the six-shooter before Milton knew what was happening. He twirled it in his hand, gripped it easily, cocked the hammer, and pressed the muzzle against Milton's chest, there above his very tiny heart. "Oh, yes you are. You're going to tell me everything."

Chapter 17

Anya stared down at the day dress that had been spread neatly across the bed. The blue, frilly gown suddenly looked like a monster. A monster that threatened to swallow her alive.

Without another thought she went to her chest of drawers, opening the one that contained her scarves. She simply picked two from the top, a green and a red silk that Grandmother would insist did not match.

Once the scarves were in place, she opened the jewelry box Grandmother had given her. She donned it all, pendants and bracelets and rings encrusted with many jewels. If she were to be Queen of Puerta Sirena, she must dress like a queen. If she were to leave the woman she had become for Julian behind, it was just as well that she start now.

Scarves in place and jewelry dangling, she shook out her hair. There was no need for combs and brushes and pins this morning. The red strands curled and waved around her face and down her back, and when she ran down the stairs it danced around her head.

Peter waited in the dining room. He looked her up and down and sighed tiredly. "What would you like for breakfast this morning?" he asked without commenting on her attire.

Anya lifted her chin and prepared to do battle. "A plate of fresh fruit and a slice of roasted boar." The rumbling in her stomach protested. Her nose twitched, her mouth pursed. Still, Peter waited silently. "I suppose a couple of biscuits and a slice of ham will suffice," she said grudgingly, thinking fondly of Betsy's tender biscuits. "And coffee," she added. "With lots of cream and sugar."

"Anything else, Miss Anya?"

"Is King Sebastian up yet?"

Peter's face went stony. "He is in the garden. I suggest you wait here."

Anya ignored his suggestion and turned. "I will return in a few minutes for my breakfast."

"But Miss Anya..." Peter began.

"Do not be a prude, Peter. I know very well what is going on. What difference does it make? Sebastian will soon be my husband." Her heart lurched and her stomach, which had been behaving well of late, turned over. Julian was her husband. In her heart he always would be her husband. It did not matter that he did not want her, or that Queen Carola had declared their marriage void.

No one would ever know that she was such a sentimental fool.

Completely bare, Sebastian rested face down on the ground, a pile of soft blankets beneath him, his back soaking up the sun as two of the servants, one male and one female, applied the royal rose oil and rubbed it into his back and shoulders and legs.

He lifted his head when he heard her footsteps, and smiled widely when he saw her.

Sebastian dismissed the servants with a wave of his hand, and indicated that Anya should sit beside him. She did so, sitting cautiously so as to maintain the annoying modesty she had acquired as Julian's wife.

"Soon we will go home," he said, grabbing his loincloth and putting it on while he sat on his pile of blankets.

"Yes," she whispered.

If she seemed less than enthusiastic, he did not notice. His smile did not dim as he tossed his dark blond hair back so his oiled chest was presented to the sun. "I am glad you are the one, Anya. You will make a good queen." He laid his deep blue eyes on her. "I missed you more than I expected I would."

"You have... other women," she protested. "You can have any woman you desire."

"Yes, but you are the only one who speaks to me as if I were a person as well as a king," he said, his smile dimming. "The others, they agree with everything I say. If I say the sea is red, they nod and agree that it is so. You were the only one who dared to tell me when I was behaving badly, or when I was wrong. You were the only one who made me laugh."

He reached out and placed his big hands on her face, one on each cheek. "And now you will give me a child. Maman wishes for a girl child to carry on the traditions, but I hope it is a son. I have always wanted a son."

"This is not your child," she whispered. "You know that."

"It will become my child because I claim it as mine." His smile dimmed. "But I fear we will never have another. I should have many sons by now, but... I cannot."

"Perhaps you should see a doctor before we go back. Maybe..."

"No. This child is all we need." His face came nearer to hers. He tilted his head as if he were going to kiss her. Impossible.

"I do not love you," she said when his lips were almost on hers. "I want to go home, Sebastian. I
need
to go home. But I do not love you."

A spark of sadness flashed in his eyes. It was quickly gone. "You still love this husband who abandoned you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He moved his head back slightly, so the threat of a kiss was gone. His thumbs rocked over her cheeks. "I forgive you," he said magnanimously, "Because I know that in time you will come to love me. You will love me because I am king, and because I am your husband, and because I make myself father to your child." He pinned his eyes on her. "And because I will never abandon you."

Her heart lurched. It should be so simple, but she suspected it was not.

"What the bloody hell is this?"

Anya's head snapped around at the sound of that angry voice. "Julian?"

* * *

Julian drew the knife from his boot and stalked toward his wife and the near-naked man on the ground. He had ridden like the hounds of hell were at his heels to protect his wife. He had ridden through the night, sending Jeremiah to Wilmington to find the thug who had been hired by someone in this house to arrange for the abduction, so Julian could rush to his wife's side and assure her safety. And here she sat, in her scarves and jewels, allowing a huge, greasy,
naked
man to touch her.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. The large, almost naked man rose slowly, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Julian forced Anya behind him and raised the knife so it pointed at the man's slick chest. White-hot fury bolted through his blood. "If you ever lay a hand on my wife again, I'll cut out your goddamn heart and feed it to you."

"Julian!" Anya whispered urgently, tugging on his shirt.

He did not take his eyes from the long-haired savage who stood a couple of inches taller and surely weighed fifty pounds more. "Do we understand each other?"

The big man looked down at the weapon. "Anya, I gave you this knife as a gift. How did this man come to have it?"

"I gave it to him."

Julian shook his head. "This knife was a gift from some would-be island royalty who's..."
far, far away, right
? He would never have to meet King Sebastian face-to-face. It would be too much. He didn't want to know—

"I am King Sebastian," the man said calmly, not at all concerned about the knife at his chest. "And if you draw so much as a drop of blood, my men will kill you."

Julian glanced over his shoulder. Two other men, only slightly more clothed than the king, stood close by, extremely large knives clasped in their able hands. Somehow, Anya held them off.

"I tried to tell you," she whispered. "Where have you been?"

Julian looked the king over. Anya had said he was young, and strong, and handsome, and virile. He had not expected that the king would be no older than Anya herself, and possessed of blond hair and blue eyes and the ability to smile while a knife was pointed at his heart.

"I don't care who you are," he said softly. "If you ever touch my wife again, I will kill you."

"She is your wife no longer," the king said calmly. "Soon she will be my queen."

Julian dropped the knife to a non-threatening position and turned to look down at Anya. Her eyes were wide, her soft cheeks pale.

"You need a shave," she said softly.

"Anya, what is he talking about?"

Her eyes and her mouth hardened. "You said you would come back, and you did not. You promised—"