Roses & Thorns (13 page)

"Have
I insulted you, my Lady?"

Her
hair swirled as her head shook, and she sighed breathlessly, "Do you mean
by tricking me into jumping through the magick portal?"

"No."

"Then
how, my Liege?"

"By
holding you."

Angelique
licked her lips nervously. "By holding me how?"

"Like
this." Drew's arms slipped around Angelique from behind, encircling her
waist and drawing her back into the thick folds of the cloak, pressing her
against the warmth of Drew's stomach and long legs.

"No,
not by holding me, my Liege," Angelique breathed, moving willingly, easily
into Drew's embrace. She tipped her head back, baring her neck, and said in a
voice edged with sweet challenge, "How else might you have given
insult?"

"By
kissing you?" Drew's voice was hard-edged, but this time not with anger.
Angelique felt Drew's lips against her neck and she melted into the exquisite
softness of endless, gentle kisses. Drew's hands, fingers spread wide, cupped
the rich roundness of Angelique's breasts. Angelique let out a gasp that turned
into a low, quivering moan.

Her
hands folded atop Drew's as, unquestioning, she urged the heated touch higher.
Drew's mouth was etching a fine line of desire across Angelique's bare
shoulder, and a soft cheek brushed her skin. Her breasts ached with a tautness
she had never known, and Angelique cried out, startled by the pleasure that
shot through her as Drew's thumb grazed over fabric and then slid beneath the
loosened bodice, palm and fingers brushing across tender skin.

Angelique's
knees were melting to boneless water as the lightest tip of Drew's tongue
swirled about the curve of her ear.

Angelique
reached a hand back, seeking support as her legs grew frighteningly weak. She
clutched at Drew's shoulder and the crimson cowl pulled suddenly away.

"No."

The
tenderness left their embrace. Angelique found her arms pinned against her
sides, her breasts aching; the bare skin of her shoulder felt naked and
chilled.

None
too gently she was pushed away.

Angelique
clutched at the stall's half-wall, already crying as she waited for the
inevitable conclusion to this scene. It was as she'd expected. Without a word,
she was left alone with her tears.

The
night was a long one for Angelique. It didn't help that the thunderstorms were
raging again, or that Angelique was all too aware of Drew's departure to hunt
the poachers. And though dawn brought a crystal-blue clarity to the sky above
and tendrils of curling mists to the fields below, to Angelique the mist seemed
eerie and only made her shiver. She paused at her terrace doors, wishing for
some sign of Drew's safe return.

She
should have known better than to fret. Culdun would have brought word if
something dreadful had happened. With the sunrise, she knew, Drew would only
have just begun the weary process of unearthing the snares and steel traps.

All
the same, Angelique couldn't seem to help herself. She was dressed before the
stable boys stumbled in from the village. She had nearly scrubbed the wax from
the library's floor with her pacing before the sun had cleared the trees or the
morning mists had begun to thin. And as she wandered the upper portico's
hallways, she wondered if she hadn't somehow missed Drew's return after all.
But the study was empty, as was the bed chamber. She was left to her
wanderings.

She
refused to think about Drew's rejection of her in the stables. She clung only
to the memory of what
had
happened and to the feelings she had
discovered within herself. Angelique remembered the first night in the carriage
and her dreams of snakes and the deep, dark void at the end of the road. Now,
the darkness no longer evoked doubts and fears. Somehow, over the last few
months, she had stopped regarding the possibility of this marriage as a duty
for her mother's welfare or as a necessary sacrifice for Drew's well-being.
Somewhere along the way, she had come to love this extraordinary, mysterious
person, and she had come to want this marriage for much more selfish reasons.

A
pair of brown speckled doves cooed and nudged at one another, drawing
Angelique's attention to where they sat on the stone banister. She paused,
sinking soundlessly back into the shadows behind an arched column so as not to
frighten them. The breeze ruffled the birds' feathers and carried with it the
fresh, clean scents of the sprawling palace gardens. The upper limbs of the poplar
trees that surrounded the courtyard swayed a bit. The laughter of children and
the clop of a shod horse echoed across the cobblestones below, and Angelique
smiled as she glanced down to see a half-dozen of the village youngsters
clamoring about the rider and horse.

Poor
old thing, Angelique thought, recognizing Drew's white steed as it stepped ever
so cautiously about the dancing menagerie. The rider held him under a tight
rein as all around them children ran, laughing and playing with the billowing length
of a stolen red cloak.

It
took a full moment for Angelique to realize who the slender figure upon the
horse must be. Even when she did, it was first because of the rich, soft timbre
to the laughter, and second because of the crimson garment that fluttered out
behind the youngest child like an errant kite.

Angelique
blinked in astonishment. The riders unruly, black hair was tied back, but no
longer hidden. The sculpted plains of the woman's face seemed haunted; the
pallor of heart-wearied despair made her skin almost translucent in the morning
sun. But Angelique also saw the soft edges of that mouth lift in laughter with
the children's games. The shapeliness of the bodice, too, was no longer
concealed by the hanging drape of the cloak, and Angelique suddenly remembered
how soft the cheek against her shoulder had been last night.

Culdun
appeared silently below, and Angelique moved quickly back from the banister as
she heard her name waft up with the wind. She risked another glance. Drew was
dismounting. The children had returned the cloak, and the crimson fabric was
once again in place. Angelique realized Culdun must have mentioned that she was
awake much earlier than usual. She returned to the depths of the hallways,
trying to reconcile the haunted beauty of the woman she had just seen with
Drew's description of her own monstrosity.

Her
thoughts opened a gate in her mind, and Angelique was suddenly flooded with
memories and images from her childhood. Ivan’s sneered remarks about a
particular kitchen maid who seemed to want no man’s company; her maternal
grandmother’s companion and the way her mother had treated them with all the
respect she would have given any married couple — even in the face of Aloysius
puzzled stare and rude remarks, made when he thought no one else could hear
him. She remembered other incidents, too: the taunting of a local dairymaid
who, separated from her companions, was accosted at the trader's; ugly words
and rumors shared on street corners and around family tables. Angelique had never
paid much attention to such remarks, as it seemed her father and brothers were
always mocking someone, but now, when she replaced some of those other
tormented and shamed faces with Drew’s, she began to understand the depth of
Drew's despair and why Drew had come to see herself as the monstrous outcast.
An outcast who simply
must
have deserved a father’s wrath and a
stepmother’s curse.

But
Angelique did not believe people like the witch-woman or Aloysius were right in
their opinions. As a matter of course, Angelique reminded herself, she'd
generally found that those who held opinions in opposition to hers were usually
the ones whose hearts were corrupted by greed — just like Aloysius or Drew’s
stepmother. How could Drew's father not have seen the blatant lies inherent in
the discovery of the so-called atrocity which Drew was to have perpetuated?!
Suddenly, Angelique felt a hot flame of pure rage kindle within her — whatever
atrocities that witch-woman had named Drew, the naming had been the atrocity, not
Drew!

And
as for Drew herself, well, no matter what Drew had encountered in the other
maids before Angelique, how dare she assume Angelique was as simple-minded!

"Culdun!"
she called, her voice ringing with determination. Still crying his name, she
spun on her heel and headed for the nearest stairwell.

The
time for foolishness was done.

"What
do you mean, not coming?" Angelique gasped.

"My
Liege has retired without breakfast, Mistress. There were poachers about last
night."

"I'm
quite aware of what transpired last night, Culdun. Just as you are quite aware
of the fact that we brunch together on such days
before
Drew goes off to
bed. So tell me. What is going on?"

The
Old One stared at her for a long while. Quietly he said, "Perhaps you
should be telling me."

Angelique's
mouth thinned, her dark eyes smoldering with gathering fury. "I don’t know
what you mean. All I know is that Drew is running away again!" Angelique
hissed, catching Culdun completely by surprise. "And you are helping her
to do it!"

His
face went blank. But not before Angelique glimpsed his surprise and shock.
There was a tense silence. "I saw Drew this morning from the
balcony," she paused and then added, "without the hood. I saw
her,
Culdun. What she's been trying to hide from me all this time."

"Does
my Liege know?"

"No.
And you are not to say one single word about it, either. This is for us to work
out alone. But damn it, Culdun! It's so hard when she won't even meet me
half-way!"

The
Old One offered a sad smile. "I would imagine not. There has been so much
pain and many, many years of loneliness, my Lady."

"Culdun,
will you help her hide forever?"

Culdun
gave her a measured look and Angelique could see him weighing the respect he
felt for her against the oaths he'd sworn to his Liege. With a nod, he
consented. "My Liege requested tea in the private gardens at four."

"The
secluded one? The place her study windows overlook?"

He
nodded.

"How
do I gain entrance, Culdun? I know there is no usual path."

"Aye,
my Lady. But I can show you."

The
water sparkled in the fountain like a splay of diamond dust. Angelique dipped
her fingers into the cool pool and sighed. Drew was late. She worried the woman
may have come and gone, slipping away unseen when she caught sight of Angelique
waiting for her.

"Will
you wait a while longer, my Lady?" China rattled as Culdun arranged the
tea service on the little white table.

Angelique
nodded morosely.

"My
Lady?"

Angelique
glanced up to find Culdun poised with the tea pot and a cup in hand. She shook
her head. "Nothing right now, Culdun. Thank you."

He
set the cup and pot back on the table and rummaged in his pockets for a moment.
"Ah, I'd almost forgotten," he said, drawing out a rolled parchment.
"This arrived this morning. Its from your mother."

"Thank
you." She accepted the bundle, which was tied with a red ribbon, and
wondered vaguely if Aloysius had finally found a nursing companion who could
write. The letter was quite a bit thicker than her father's patience generally
allowed.

Culdun's
broad hand touched hers gently. "You will do fine."

"Yes,"
she gave him a wan smile. "Thank you. Please, don’t let me keep you from
your work. With this heat your garden must need tending."

"But
I'll still be near." He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze and departed.

The
fountain's babbling blended with the birds' chatter. But Angelique was barely
aware of her surroundings. With a determined shake of her head, she broke the
wax seal of her mother's letter.

She
found she'd been correct in her assumptions; Aloysius had hired an educated
nurse to oversee her mother's care. Angelique thought how very well things must
be going for her father with Drew's wares. Again she shook her head. She would
not let his memory spoil the pleasure of a letter from her mother. Focusing on
that, she began to read and, as she did, could almost hear her mother's loving
voice describing the long quiet days.

The
breeze died unnoticed. The chirp and peep of the birds dwindled, then quieted
altogether. Only the sound of the running water in the fountain behind her
persisted, and gradually, Angelique became aware of the stillness. She looked
up slowly, knowing already she was not alone. Between the straight columns,
half-cloaked by the shadows of the palace archways, Drew stood silently.

Angelique
offered a smile and went back to her reading. She could no more concentrate on
the words in front of her than she could quiet the pounding beat of her heart.
But she was wary of startling Drew again. Something deep within Angelique had
finally grasped how very thin Drew's facade of strength was, and Angelique
wanted nothing more than to offer protection to the frightened child hidden
behind all that false bravado.