The Fire Lord's Lover - 1 (22 page)

   "I'm afraid not."

   Dominic curled his fingers between the top of the glove and his wife's warm skin, slowly peeling down the silk. She trembled. Sir Robert suddenly glanced back at them, his sharp eyes taking in their postures. He gave the general a smile laden with meaning before focusing back on the stage.

   So then. Dominic had been right about Walpole's intelligence. Within the other man's expression lay an interest in Cassandra that surpassed the norm. And Dominic didn't think Walpole had revealed that without careful intent. Could he be a part of the Rebellion? There had been a certain smugness in that look, and Dominic felt sure he would be finding out soon.

   The Rebellion would never have snared him if it hadn't been for his wife. He didn't think it had been a part of the plan; indeed, he felt sure they hoped to strike a lucky blow against his father using his innocentseeming wife. But the impossible had happened, and he'd fallen under Cassandra's spell.

   "You must stop this torture, General Raikes! If you do not wish to name your tailor, tell me so this instant."

   Dominic frowned at the king. "I had no intention of keeping it from you, Your Majesty." He'd just been too preoccupied with his wife. He'd completely removed her glove and now encased her small hand within his. "My tailor is no one more than a talented kitchen maid."

   "Devil a bit! A slave?"

   Dominic traced a finger over the rose gold ring he'd given his wife. The petals had uncurled just a bit. "She's a prisoner of war from Verdanthame. Imperial Lord Mi'cal's half-breeds possess extraordinary powers in weaving the plants that his magic has introduced to England."

   The king's face brightened. "I have never been captured by that sovereignty. I hope—ah well. You must send this person to me, General."

   Dominic unconsciously tightened his grasp on Cassandra's hand. Perhaps the king had misheard him. "She is a
slave, Your Majesty." As he had been
. A person with no one to care enough to pay their ransom. A person like him, without consequence— until he'd proven his worth to the elven lord. Because his mother had been nothing more than a kitchen maid, taken in war from another sovereignty. He could only guess that her incredible beauty had caused Mor'ded to bed her.

   His wife gave his hand a small squeeze before going back to ignoring him.

   "I still wish you to send me this slave, General."

   Dominic nodded, hoping he would be doing the girl more good than harm. "As you wish."

   The king finally turned back around to the performance and Dominic had no further excuse to lean forward. He settled back into his seat, missing the heat of his wife's leg against his own. He now couldn't bear being near her and unable to touch her. She had shattered his control with the confession of her love for him, and as he focused on the play he realized that in some ways it echoed the relationship he had with Cassandra. Love entwined with death and sacrifice.

   Dominic slowly picked up the black silk glove that lay discarded on his wife's lap. He faced her profile, her eyes still riveted to the stage, but he felt sure she was aware of his every movement. He brought the glove to his mouth and kissed it, breathing in the scent of her skin. Never would he have thought he'd act the dandy in this way. But he took the slip of silk and put it in his inside coat pocket, so it lay against his heart.

   The general hoped she would understand the gesture, for he felt… badly about kissing Aggie. The look on his wife's face when she'd witnessed it had twisted something inside of him. He could not abide bringing her pain, even in such a small way.

   The rush of pleasure that swept through him when he saw the slight curl of her lips made up for the thought that he'd acted like some silly court fop. If it managed to make her happy, he felt determined to learn every gesture of romanticism with which humans displayed their affection.

   The curtain fell with the end of the opening scene and Dominic stood to stretch his legs, his hand twitching to assist his wife when she started to rise to her feet. But the sudden glow from the magically created sun's rays above them would reveal his actions, and he stilled his body to indifference once again.

   They milled about the box, the intermission too short to return to the antechamber for refreshments, although a liveried footman brought round a tray of wine and sweetmeats.

   Halting the performance after each scene made the short play interminably drawn-out.

   Sir Robert engaged the Imperial Lord in whispered conversation, leading Mor'ded to the far side of the box, both of them focused on the stage. Perhaps he sought to ease his father's fears over the magical powers of the troupe, or to incite them. Dominic could only feel glad his father's attentions were otherwise engaged.

   Lady Agnes immediately jostled the king's mistress out of her way, capturing the older man's arm within her own. The king gave her a look of mingled surprise and speculation, and his wife watched the two of them with a puzzled frown.

   Dominic bent over to reach Cassandra's ear. "It seems Agnes has set her sights on a nobler conquest," he murmured.

   She fluttered her hands, flushed at the sight of one of them ungloved, and quickly removed the remaining silk, stuffing it in the slit of her skirt along with her fan. "She's a fool," his wife replied with enough heat in her voice to please her husband.

   "You aren't satisfied that my mistress has publicly declared that our affair is over?"

   "Certainly not." She shifted from one foot to another, her hands still aflutter at her sides. "Now you will only have to find another one."

   He didn't need to see her glance at Mor'ded for him to understand her meaning. Without the shield of a mistress, his attentions to his wife would become suspect. But an idea had occurred to Dominic and he wished he could speak of it to her. Regretfully it would have to wait until they were alone.

   His wife continued to fidget. Dominic accepted the glass of brandy handed to him by the footman and downed it in one swallow, then studied Cassandra with a frown. He had seen her so nervous only once before, when they had stood together at the altar on their wedding day. The ring on her finger had tightened into a stiff bud once more, and he wondered if his gallant gesture had completely erased her hurt over seeing him kiss Lady Agnes. Or perhaps she truly feared the loss of his mistress would set Mor'ded's sights upon her.

   And with that thought flowed another. Did her feet move to some silent music in her head? Did she prepare her magic for a death dance, hoping to catch Mor'ded unawares when the lights lowered? Perhaps that's why she'd chosen to sit behind him. Dominic glanced at her waist. She wore a thin black girdle of sturdy-looking cloth. He glanced over at his father. "Do not even think it. Do you realize how many will die if you attempt such a thing?"

   She followed his gaze and quickly shook her head. "No, Dominic. I wouldn't… I know you're right about…" Then she clutched her head and swayed on her feet.

   It took every ounce of his self-control not to reach out and sweep her up into his arms. "What is it?"

   She rubbed her temples. "I fear I have a dreadful headache."

   Lady Verney, who stood near the rail of the box with a gaggle of ladies, noticed his wife's actions and approached. "Are you well, Lady Cassandra?"

   "I… I don't know what's come over me. My head just started to pound like a drum."

   The taller woman smiled with maternal indulgence, the feather boa wrapped about her thin neck fluttering with the sigh of her breath. "My dear, that's to be expected in your condition."

   "Oh, but I'm not—"

   "Now, now. I know how strong you are, but even the best of us can be weakened by the changes in one's body. You will need to take better care of yourself, my dear." And she punctuated her words with a sharp glance at Dominic.

   He could only study Cassandra in bewilderment. They both knew she wasn't with child and that her first "sudden" headache had been nothing more than a charade. She felt fine but a moment ago, and other than her continued skittishness and a crease in her brow, looked exceptionally well. He called blue fire to his fingertips, ready to ease her head with his magic. But she hastily stepped away from him.

   "Do not trouble yourself, my lord. I prefer to seek a more… natural remedy." She glanced between the two of them, seemingly annoyed by their concern. "It's naught but a head pain after all. I'm certain I'll be fine after I rest for a while."

   "Shall I accompany you to your rooms?" said Lady Verney, again giving the general a pointed look.

   But Dominic did not think his wife wanted him to escort her. Devil a bit, he suspected she had no headache at all. That it was just a ruse to escape from him. Despite his attempt to make it up to her, she must still be angry with him for kissing his mistress. His wife had revealed her love for him and it had changed everything. He must take more care of her feelings.

   "No, please. I would feel worse if I thought I'd deprived anyone of the joy in seeing the rest of the play. I can manage to make it to my rooms with nary a worry."

   "If you are sure—"

   "Faith, Sophia, it makes me feel worse to have anyone fuss over me." And with those parting words, his wife swept up her skirts and left the box.

   "Sometimes I think she is too independent for her own good," grumbled the taller woman, her final parting shot at Dominic before returning to her cluster of court ladies.

   He supposed Lady Verney suggested that he take his wife to hand, but the general had little desire to do so. Despite his fear for her safety, he liked Cassandra just the way she was. Self-sufficient nature and all.

   But Dominic decided that it would seem an eternity sitting through the entire performance before he could he join his wife in their rooms. Before he could prove he had no further interest in Aggie or even acquiring another mistress to replace her. That he might no longer need such a shield.

   He watched Lady Verney and her bevy of court ladies continue to whisper and glance his way while they took their seats for the next scene. His wife's false headache this eve would only solidify the rumor of her pregnancy among the entire court, and he did not regret it. Indeed, he vowed to make the rumor true within a fortnight.

   Dominic made it through the performance by envisioning his wife's face lit with golden fire. He had never shared his magic in that way with another woman… had never had the desire to. But he had wanted to bring her pleasure in a way she'd never experienced before. In a way no other man could give her. And judging by her tremors, he'd managed to do so with startling success.

   Before his marriage, he would never have guessed the serene little woman to whom he'd been affianced would possess such a fire for passion within her.

   His thoughts flew in ever-creative ways as he considered the benefits his magic could bring her. Perhaps he could endeavor to experiment tonight, assuming he could manage to make her forgive him.

   His thoughts made the time pass so quickly that he started with surprise when the performance finally came to an end. It took all the general's composure to slowly rise, to exchange pleasantries with debutants and dandies, to appear serenely oblivious to his wife's absence. His father spoke with Walpole again, and Dominic felt gratitude for the way the prime minister engaged Mor'ded. Clever man. Despite Walpole's all-too-human features, he must have inherited more than his fair share of elven charm from somewhere in his family line.

   Dominic had just managed to extricate himself from another boring conversation, this time purposefully heading toward the exit of the box, when one of his lieutenants stepped through the open door.

   "Sir."

   "What is it?" The general's men rarely bothered him with trivial matters.

   "The girl has escaped, sir."

   Dominic didn't need his man to specify which girl. He'd given special orders to his men regarding only one prisoner. And with those few words, the general suddenly
knew.
He knew why his wife had looked so nervous this evening. Why she'd pretended a headache and excused herself without escort. Knew who had helped Breden's half-breed escape. He quickly positioned his body between his lieutenant and Mor'ded's line of sight.

   "You have dispatched men in pursuit?"

   "Aye, sir."

   "Then they won't get far." Dominic knew he lied. With Cassandra to aid them, they had a betterthan-average chance of escaping his men, especially with the fools he'd set as guards. Or so he hoped. But he didn't want to alert the lieutenant to the fact that he knew Breden's bastard had help in her escape. "Report directly to me when you've returned her to the tower."

   "Aye, sir."

   The man dallied and Dominic knew his lieutenant expected him to join the pursuit. Indeed, he would have, if only to find a way to protect his wife from exposure. But although he had some faith his wife would find a way to outwit his men, he knew she wouldn't stand a chance against his father. And despite his attempt to shield the lieutenant from Mor'ded's line of sight, he could feel his father's eyes boring into his back.

   "Dismissed," he snapped, no longer capable of suppressing his fury. Cassandra had acted without confiding in him, had risked herself for no reason, since he'd had every intention of rescuing the girl tonight… without alerting half the palace guards. And his father.

   The lieutenant practically leaped out the door, and Dominic slowly turned. Walpole waved his hands, trying to keep Mor'ded engaged in their conversation, but his father stood facing Dominic, curiosity flickering in those cold black eyes.

   The general suppressed his fury. Snapped his spine rigid and forced a calm indifference on his face while his mind spun with some way he could protect Cassandra. He could reassure his father he had the situation well in hand, that he had complete confidence in his men to return the half-breed to Firehame. But if his father sought some amusement this evening, chasing a frightened child through the streets of London would certainly appeal to him.