The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (28 page)

“Dame Chloe said you have to take off your hood to sit in on the party.”

Keri paused behind a tree, not wishing to disturb the two people that sat on a blanket by the gurgling stream.  Waverly sat facing it and before her, sitting on the blanket cross-legged as her daughter was, Sir Cyrille.  His back was to the stream, so he could watch the direction an attack would most likely come from.  In the short time she knew these men she had come to realize it was something that was ingrained in them. 

The big man shook his head.

“No one will laugh at you,” Waverly assured him as she bounced the cloth doll up and down before him.  She had not noticed until Cyrille looked down at his hands the cloth doll he was stuffing grass into.  With needle and thread he closed the fabric up and held the doll up for Waverly’s inspection.

“Lady Amber,” the girl announced proudly and with a little awe as she reached for it, tucking her other doll she had named Dame Chloe, the woman Waverly told Keri Cyrille would rescue and marry one day, under her arm.  “Look Dame Chloe,” she said presenting the two dolls to each other.  “You have a friend.”

“Pleased to meet you Lady Amber,” Waverly’s voice became high pitched as the one doll spoke to the other before making it present an awkward curtsy with its fabric legs.

“Now Sir Cyrille, you will have to remove your hood,” Waverly continued in the same voice that had turned authoritative.

The big man seemed to hesitate then reached his hands up and removed the hood, laying it in his lap after spending a moment to fold it awkwardly.  He stared down at it.  Waverly crawled closer, almost into the knight’s lap as so she could look at his face.

“Did it hurt?” she asked in a quiet voice.

She watched Cyrille’s head move and Keri knew he was looking at her daughter.  He was quiet for a moment then his head nodded slightly.

Waverly sighed then stood and wrapped her arms around the big man’s neck.  He sat there, his arms hung slack with his hands resting in his lap, his body stiff as a board.  Slowly he lifted his arms and wrapped them around the child that looked so tiny engulfed in them.  After a moment Waverly made the slightest of movements and the man released her.

“Let us play some more Sir Cyrille,” Waverly offered brightly taking her position back on the blanket.

She scooped the dolls up and in Dame Chloe’s voice said, “Oh Lady Amber, why don’t you have any clothes?”  In a deeper voice the other doll replied, “The same reason you do not.”

“Then we must find someone to make us some.”

“Do you know how to sew pretty clothes?” Waverly asked.

He shook his head. 

“But you can make the dolls, surely you can make clothes.”

The man shook his head. 

“Well, no matter,” Lady Amber declared.  “We will find someone to make us some clothes.”

Keri slipped away, allowing her daughter the time with her friends.

~   ~   ~   ~

Despite having her children safely beside her time still did not seem to speed up but melded one day into another until she did not know to be elated she was still free here with her children or apprehensive because her new husband was still to make an appearance.  Was he fighting somewhere far away?  In the kind of place that had changed Damien.  Damien’s men took over the task of securing the manor and Garrick directed some in the repairs needed.  Each day Keri climbed to her hill and waited.  Waverly no longer joined her but sought the company of Cyrille and strangely enough the old Lord Alcott who for all his gruffness did not seem to mind his current situation.

The alone time on the hill overlooking her new home gave her too much time to contemplate and worry.  Now the question was who would arrive first, her husband or Damien?  She was filled with an urgency that Damien arrive before her husband.  It would not be such a sacrilege to take Damien to bed before she was married, before she had even met her new husband.  Although she knew she was lying to herself.  It came down to how would her immortal soul be played out?  Would her husband arrive, they take and consummate their vows and she live the rest of her days only knowing his touch?  Or would she damn her soul to purgatory if Damien arrived first because she knew she could not sentence herself to the rest of her life without ever being held by him again.

As evening began to wan she climbed back down the hill and back into the hall.  Her mood was so morose Garrick’s voice from behind her startled a small gasp from her when he spoke.

“A messenger arrived earlier,” he replied.

“Well,” she snapped and he arched a brow at her foul mood.

“The new Lord of Wooler will arrive tomorrow and the ceremony will be at dusk.”

“At dusk?” she questioned.  She had never attended a wedding at dusk.  They were held earlier in the day so guests could enjoy the entire day for feasting.  Could he not postpone it another day, even a year for them to get to know one another? 

“I also must ask a favor of you,” she heard an unfamiliar plea in his voice that directed her mind from what she already knew would happen one day.

Keri turned to him and saw that he stood straight, a scowl on his face, his hand stroking the hilt of his sword.  She had never noticed this before.  Was it a nervous tick?  Could the great Garrick be afraid she would turn him down.

The sadistic part of her wanted to deny his request whatever it was.  She took a moment to study this man before her.  He was the darkest man she had ever met from his black hair, nearly black eyes to his darkly tanned skin.  The deep scars on one side of his face only added to the menacing look of him.  He had been in the same prison as Damien and Cyrille, his scars attested to that.  He was a soldier under the order of the king as was Damien, did this make all their souls black?

Anger washed over his face at her delay.  He was quick to anger, he purchased women, and had handled her roughly.  He was also loyal enough to withstand torture to protect Damien’s identity.  He had helped protect the man she would always love.

“What is the favor?” she asked quickly before he stepped away.

He turned back toward her but nothing could be read in those dark eyes.  “The king has granted me a wife.” Instant pity for the wife washed over her before she could quell it.  She waited patiently.

“I have never had anyone such as a wife.”

It seemed as if he struggled to find the correct words and Keri was left confused of his exact meaning.

“My mother was a whore and I have never been close to anyone.  Unless you could call me close to Marcus, w
hich is hardly the same thing.”

To be fare Keri gave this thought before she offered a gentle smile.  “I do not think one of your knights would qualify.”

“If I want sons and daughters I must keep this woman close and content with me,” he said with a little irritation edging his voice.  “How do I do this?”

Keri considered him for a moment, a boy who had grown up scorned
and turned into a man who bought whores for comfort was not likely to know the first thing about love and gentleness.

“Gentle and caring,” Keri rushed out as soon as the thought came to mind.  “You must never hurt her.”

“What if she must be punished?”

“What do you mean?  Punished for what?”

“For insolence or not obeying orders.”

“You’re looking at it all wrong.  This will be your wife, not a soldier or prisoner.  She will be bound to you, be mother to your children.  If you show her gentleness and patience she will show you her gratitude.” 

Garrick shifted uncomfortably as if those were foreign words to him.  She stepped closer and rested her hand gently on his arm.  “Just giving me a chance to talk to you makes me more comfortable being near you.”

A dark cloud flashed in his eyes and he brushed her hand away.  “I do not want anyone comfortable in my presence.  As for patience and gentleness they have no place.”  He turned abruptly and Keri knew for him he was right.

The thought rushed to her, her husband could be like Garrick.  Regardless she knew tomorrow night the man would be rutting between her legs like an old boar.  The thought sickened her.  She felt the blood drain from her face and her stomach lurched and she knew she was going to be sick.  She fled out the front door and found a shrub she hid behind that received her earlier meal.  Long after her stomach was empty the vision of herself tomorrow, her eyes squeezed shut her clothing only pushed aside as some stranger found pleasure within her body, made her want to empty it all over again. 

“Remind me not to eat what you just ate,” Damien’s voice said behind her making her nearly jump into the mess she’d left.

Turning she was mortified to see the man that had consumed her thoughts sitting his horse in her courtyard.  Self consciously she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.  The stable master walked forward to take Damien’s sweating, heaving horse.

“Is all well?” Keri asked apprehensively watching the horse being led away.

“All is well with me.  It does not look the same for you.  Do you mind if I make myself at home and get a bite to eat?  It has been a long journey.”

She nodded slowly and watched him moving toward the door.  One night, she had one more night with him and she had no qualms about it.  She fled around the house and into a side
door, up the steps to her rooms where she began slinging clothing about.  She had spent hours upon hours being fitted and refitted for a wardrobe that was richer and more extensive than she had ever had.  Beatrice helped her dress, tisking over her state of urgency but the woman never asked why and finally, feeling she could look no better, she descended the steps and into the small dining hall.

She felt Damien’s eyes fall on her as soon as she entered.  First Waverly stopped her, then Lord Alcott, one after another it seemed as if everyone was intent on keeping her away from her prey.  Finally, she reached his side and sank into the chair beside his.  Tomorrow her husband would be sitting in his chair.  Wouldn’t he be angered to know his wife would always look at the chair as Damien’s, never his?

“You look lovely this evening.”

She raised her eyes to look at him, studying him for an overly long period that left her feeling uncomfortable.  Her eyes fell back to the
plate that had been set before her, until then she had been unaware it was time for the evening meal.  She ate, at least pretended to tend to the task, moving the food about.  She played so long with her food she was startled to find she was nearly alone in the room with Damien when he spoke. 

“I have thought of you often while I was away.”

The only ones who were present in the hall sat at the other end, absorbed in their own conversation.

“My husband arrives in the morning,” she said after her eyes had fallen back to her food.  Her hands twisted in her lap and she was at a loss as to how to invite this man into her bed.

“How do you feel about this?” he asked.

She rounded on him, miffed to see him nonchalantly place a piece of meat into his mouth.  “How do you think I feel?” she demanded.

“Glad the wait is finally over I would imagine,” he said as if she should be glad the man was finally going to grace them with his presence.

“Why would I be glad?  Glad he is finally going to arrive to fuck me and take everything over, from when I rise from the bed until I lay my head back down.”

“Not all men are that way?”

Keri snorted, “Tell me the name of one man who will not take what is his.”

“I would not unless it was willingly given.”

“Yes,” she scoffed.  “You would only chain her to the wall.”

“I would not chain my wife to the wall,” he spat at her, his face full of the anger she heard in his voice.

She was startled to find the direction the conversation was taking.  Damien was angry with her, he wasn’t supposed to be angry.  “I did not mean that,” she said in an attempt to smooth things over.

“What did you mean to say Keri?” he asked, his voice like a dagger’s edge.  “I will have no respect for my future wife.  I’ll rape her and if that’s not good enough for me I’ll keep her chained to my wall?”  He pushed his tray then his chair angrily away and stomped from the room.

Keri’s stomach lurched.  Hurriedly she stood from the table and fled to her room.

~   ~   ~   ~

Darkness had long since descended on the room.  The boy had come and built a fire in the hearth, now she sat before it with her legs drawn to her chest, her gown pooling around her feet.  How had things gone so wrong?  Because she had no sense when it came to handling a man such as Damien, she told herself.  Perhaps any man because she had not been so successful with Bryson except threatening his life if he tried to bed her again.  A bitter laugh died in her throat when she heard the door to her chamber creak open.  Damien, she felt his presence and it frightened her.  Why was he here?  To fight with her more and tell her he was leaving?

He walked all the way into the room and she felt him settle on the floor beside her.  She saw him from the corner of her eye, just sitting, watching the flames with her.  Finally, she turned her head lay it on her knees and gazed at him.