Midnight Secrets (28 page)

Shrinking deeper into the water, I crossed my arms over my breasts, gasping for air enough to scream but only croaked like a dead toad.

“Ma-a…ry,” he called, moving a step closer. Then another step, reaching his hands out for me. “Mary hurt you.”

In an instant I envisioned him dragging me naked to the stone virgins. Horror ripped away my paralysis and added a sharpness to my voice that made Mrs. Frye at her worst seem like a lamb. “Stop immediately! Mary’s dead! Do you hear me! Get out of here now!”

“Mary!” he shouted, his cry of anguish reverberating in the room. I held my breath as he slammed a fisted hand to his heart then ran from the room.

I would have immediately left the tub, but my legs wouldn’t work and a black haze covered my vision. I buried my face in my palms and drew deep breaths, determined not to faint and drown.

Another clattering of the bucket and breaking glass made me scream. A scream that died the second I saw Bridget sprawled on the floor with a broken blue vase before her and soft pink roses scattered everywhere. She gasped then burst into tears.

My bath had turned into a circus. Dragging myself from the water and donning a robe, I hurried on shaky legs and put an arm around Bridget.

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. He gave me flowers. Nobody’s ever given me flowers and now I’ve broken them.”

“Who—” I cut off my question, staring at the roses Stuart had to have given Bridget. A soft smile settled in my heart.

I patted Bridget’s back. “Not to worry. You climb into the tub and calm yourself while I find something to put these beautiful roses in. Our room will smell like a garden for days and then I’ll show you how to dry them so that you can keep them forever.”

Sniffing, Bridget turned a tearful, hopeful gaze my way. “He really likes me, doesn’t he? Even though I don’t have a lick of education.”

“Yes. And don’t belittle yourself, Bridget McGowan. You’ve a tremendous amount of wit, a big heart, and as far as education goes, that’s something that changes for the better every day. So it doesn’t matter, now does it?”

“No,” Bridget said, as we both rose to our feet. She went to the tub and I dressed in fresh clothes then looked for a vase and a broom.

Once I had things cleaned, I brought the flowers to Bridget, having found a small stone urn that I didn’t think would be missed. Bridget finished dressing and pulled the flowers into her arms, breathing deeply of the roses, her cheeks as pink as the blooms.

“There’s something very special about you, Cassie. No matter what happens, there is this light inside you that chases away the darkness.”

Smiling, I turned from Bridget and gathered up our belongings. I walked into our room first, hanging our clothes over the chair and accidentally dropping a mob cap. When I bent to pick it up, I saw a gold sealed envelope on the floor by the desk. Sean. My heart raced as an odd, ill feeling settled inside me.

What if Stuart hadn’t sent Bridget the roses? What if they’d been for me? I tucked the envelope into my pocket, feeling it burn there as I helped Bridget arrange the flowers on the table by her bed.

“I almost don’t want to read the rest of the queen’s story tonight. I could sit here and look at these all night long.” Bridget took another deep whiff of the roses. “Where do you think he got them from?”

“The village. We can wait to read about the queen,” I said, eager for us to retire so that I could read the note.

“No. I’ve been thinking about her.”

I sighed, resigned to wait, realizing that if he’d written asking me to come, I shouldn’t go. That maybe I should pretend I hadn’t even found the note. “I have too.”

“Let’s read then,” Bridget said, and I nodded. We were cohorts in this naughty venture I’m sure neither of us would have been brave enough to do alone. And part of my wanting to read tonight was to delay learning what Sean had written to me. I doubt he’d issue any more safe passages. That meant I had to decide if I was willing to go without one.

“We have to stop seeing each other. You have to stop coming to me. This week has been more than I can bear. The loneliness will be harder now. But I’ll never forget the pleasure you’ve given me.”

“Wait,” Bridget said. “Did we miss a page? What pleasure? Are they not going to tell us about the week the queen spent with Draco?”

I turned the page back. “I guess not.”

“But they can’t do that,” Bridget said.

“They did. Do you want to skip this story and go to another one?”

“No. I want that the author should have written this one right.”

“What would you have had them write?”

“All of the things that people do when they fall in love. All of the things that girls like me never know. Dinner and dances and operas and balls.”

I shut the book. “Do you want to write our own story then?”

“What?” Her eyes boggled.

“Write things the way we want them to be. We can tell it anyway we want to.”

“Blimey. I never thought about it like that before. Maybe. But not tonight. I want to know about the queen they way the story is now.”

“All right.” I opened the book.

The young queen turned, wrenching painfully away from Draco, the man who would take her from her burdened, virgin life and give her immortality and the only love she would ever be sure was true.

All others would want her for another reason, for power, for wealth, or to be king of a nation. Only he could love her for herself.

“Go, please. There can never be happiness between us. I am bound to this life and you to another.”
 

“Seven nights, my virgin queen. One more week to convince you that my love is worth all that you would leave behind.” Draco smiled sadly, unable to walk away.

“The fruit you offer is one that I would give my soul to know, but it is forbidden, for I cannot sacrifice my nation. I would cease to be queen then, and that is all I am.”

Draco crossed the room and caught the queen in his arms. “Don’t say that. It isn’t true. You’re a woman, a beautiful woman. My woman.”

Tears flowing, she pressed her fingers to his lips and he gently nipped her fingertip with his fang, careful not to break her skin and draw the blood he so desperately wanted to join with his. He could force her to be his, press his thirsty lips to her throat and make her his. But to do so would destroy the very part of him that enabled him to love.

She buried herself against his chest. “Were I any other woman in the world, in any other nation in the world that would be true. But it is not. I’ll reign and I’ll die, and if there is mercy in this world, then one day we will share the love burning so deeply within us.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he blinked back his own tears. “Seven more nights?” he whispered.

“Yes.” Her cry muffled with a sob.

“Blimey.” Bridge pulled the book from my hands and tossed it onto the bed before dashing at the tears in her eyes. “I can’t read any more of it tonight.”

Neither could I, but I didn’t say so. I didn’t want to think about wrenching sadness when my feelings for Sean were such a bubbling caldron of doubt. I could foresee no ending different than that of the virgin queen and her secret, dark lover.

“It is a sad story.” The note in my pocket pulled upon my heart as deeply as the queen’s denial. If he’d asked for me to come, how could I not go? But how could I go and forsake all that I knew was proper?

“Why doesn’t she just love him?” Bridget demanded.

Tears stung my eyes. “She does.”

“But she won’t be with him, and he loves her. Her fear of losing him is too great to let herself love while she can.” Bridget shoved the book aside and plopped onto her bed. “It’s just a story,” she said. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with me and Stuart.”

I blinked. Stuart? I’d thought only of Sean. “You’re absolutely right.” I marched to my cot and slipped off my boots. The story had nothing to do with either of us.

“I’m right?” Bridget frowned as if she expected that I would argue with her.

“Yes. You are.” I snuffed out the candle. “I suggest we get some sleep.”

Had I honestly believed that, I might have been able to shut my eyes and drift off rather than to feign sleep for an eternity as Bridget tossed and turned. I thought I would scream with impatience before she started to snore. I waited a few more agonizing moments to make sure she wasn’t going to awaken, then I lit a candle stub and ripped open the envelope. Two cards fell out. Written in his bold script were two short notes.

I hope these blooms bring you as much pleasure as your soft, fragrant skin brings me.

This ticket entitles the bearer to a trip to the stars and beyond.

There was no mention of a safe passage.
 

I also knew that I would go.
 

When I opened the dragon-handled doors, I found him standing there, waiting. He seemed unsettled, his hair askew, his expression worried. I suddenly wondered if he’d been in pain.
 

But that wasn’t what brought me to a standstill. It was his attire, or lack of it. Gone were the traditional accoutrements of pants and shirt. In their stead he wore an open, black-silk robe embroidered with a silver dragon breathing fire over his left breast. The open neck of the robe exposed an indecent amount of his fascinating chest.

He had on pants, but they weren’t normal restrictive pants. They were silky and moved fluidly with the muscles beneath. My heart felt as if it reached him before he reached me.
 

“I’m glad you came.” He slid the door from my grasp and urged me into the corridor enough to close the door behind me.

Mindful of the thorns, I clutched a pink rose I’d taken from the bouquet before leaving my room.

He smiled, setting his cane aside. “They are beautiful, are they not?” He took the rose from me and trailed the bloom along my cheek.
 

“Most beautiful,” I whispered, taking a step back as I tried to absorb the intensity of his gaze and the power of his presence. He made every part of me tingle with awareness.

“As are you.” He stepped closer, letting the rose slide down my neck and across the exposed skin of my chest. Then, setting his palms on the door behind me, he brushed a kiss to my lips. “Will it be the stars again tonight? Or shall I take you beyond?”

“The stars,” I said, desperately hoping that I could keep control of the overwhelming temptation to be with him. I forced my hands to my sides to keep from touching him. He was so close, and I knew if I even brushed my hand against the silk of his robe, I would be lost.

He dropped his forehead to mine. “God help me, Cassie. I don’t know how strong I can be.”

“First,” I whispered, not sure how the word escaped my lips, but everything within me cried to be with him. He snapped his gaze to mine, intensely searching. I dampened my lips, “Stars first…then…”

“Last,” he groaned as if in pain. “Stars last.” He kissed me then, hard and deep, pressing me up against the door, molding his body to mine. The fire of his touch only made me thirst for more.

“Last,” I whispered in defeat, wanting him so much that I could no longer stand on the propriety upon which I had built my life. Tears stung my eyes. He stopped trailing kisses across my jaw and gazed into my eyes, then drew a deep breath and stepped back.

“I’m rushing you. I’m sorry. Come with me.” He held out his hand and I put mine in his. I knew he wasn’t taking me to the observatory in the round room and I didn’t protest.

Surprisingly, he didn’t go down the long corridor leading to his bedchamber. He led me to the first room on the right, revealing the study I had seen briefly before. This time a comfortable fire-lit hearth and a candlelit table brought a warm glow to the darkness. The black curtains were open now, revealing the sea and the stars. Tempting bites of cheeses and fruits and sweet confections filled silver platters on the table where goblets and wine stood ready next to another bouquet of roses that enticingly scented the air.

“This is…this is wonderful. Thank you.” I drew a breath, feeling the angst inside me ease. He’d shown as much care for me, a mere maid, as he would have a queen.

“Sean,” he said. “You haven’t said my name, Cassie. I want to hear it.”

“Sean.”

He closed his eyes a moment as if he wanted to commit the sound to memory.

Moving to the table, he pulled out a chair for me and set the pink rose on the table. I sat and he took the seat to my right, reaching for the wine. The seating was so close, so intimate that I could feel the heat of his arm next to mine. After pouring two glasses, he gestured to the food. “What is your favorite?”

I studied the delicacies a moment, biting my lip. “They all look delicious.”

He laughed. “You can have them all, but which do you want
first?
”

His emphasis on the word brought his kiss at the door tingling back to my mind, drawing my gaze to his lips.

He smiled, leaned over, and brushed his lips against mine. “That can come first. You choose.”

I picked up my wine goblet and sipped, surprised at its exotic sweet taste and warmth, and took another long drink, enjoying the feel. “This is unusual.”

“It’s spiced, a blend of Asian delicacies and clove, ginger and nutmeg. It is meant to please the palate and heighten your senses.”

Meant to seduce
. I pushed the thought away and took another sip, though not as much as before. With no safe passage mentioned, I had known his intent before I came, and had agreed to it at the door. It was too late for second thoughts. I also knew in my heart that if I really wanted to leave, he’d let me go without question.

“Since you don’t have a preference, we’ll save
all
of the sweets for last.” Placing an assortment of cheese and grapes on both plates, he motioned for me to eat, and started himself.
 

I bit into the cheese. Fresh and soft, it nearly melted in my mouth.

“So your family lives in Oxford?”