The Third Son (29 page)

“You won’t be sad, leaving your home?”

He shook his head, taking her face in his hands gently. His lips hovered inches from hers. “How could I be sad to leave a place that is only soil and stone? Where you are is where my home is.” He took her lips with his. “This is home,” he murmured against her mouth, running his hands over her body. She trembled in his arms, and clung to him fiercely.

She met him kiss for kiss, matching his ardor with her own avid desire. He ran his fingers through her hair, caressing the softly curling tendrils as he made love to her mouth with his. She felt the cool night air against her skin as her nightgown slid to the floor. He carried her to the bed, coming over her as soon as he was unclothed. She welcomed him eagerly, opening her body to him as well as her heart. Their loving was joyous, a celebration of their life to come, an uninhibited expression of their love. When it was over
,
they clung to each other, sated, happy, hopeful.

Damien slept peacefully that night, his curly head resting on Esmeralda’s shoulder. Esmeralda lay awake and planned.

****

The morning of Adare’s funeral brought the first snow of winter. Damien stood between Esmeralda and Serge, warmly bundled against the cold, beside his father’s freshly dug grave. Usually, the king’s body would be prepared and placed in the massive cathedral at the heart of the city for one week, to allow the inhabitants of Cardenas a final look at their sovereign.
T
he circumstances surrounding Adare’s death had forced Lionus to make his funeral a private affair, including only family and very close friends. The court had been dismissed several days earlier.

He stood with his family, Esmeralda pressed closely to his side, until the last of the dirt had been shoveled over Adare’s grave. They all stayed for a moment while the priest spoke his final words.

One by one, they drifted away toward the warmth of the palace. Lionus and Alexandra first, Serge and Nicolai second, Jarvis and Hopkins third. Finally
,
Esmeralda turned to walk inside, her arm linked through Isabelle’s. Damien waited until he was completely alone and approached his father’s freshly carved headstone. He placed a handful of the special black orchids he had grown himself. Speckles of lightly falling snow clung to their edges. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat and stood silently for several minutes.

“We’ll be leaving Largess Hall tomorrow, father,” he said to the empty air around him. “Mother, Lionus, and Serge will return, but I fear I may never set foot on this ground again. I am doing what I promised you I would and following my heart. I have already made arrangements to take Esmeralda and her family to America. I hear they call it the land of opportunity. It sounds like the perfect place for us to make new start.” He paused for a moment to choke back the tears that threatened to weaken him.
Damien
took a deep breath and continued. “I am sure Lionus will do fine as king without me. It would seem that there is much we cannot see eye to eye on, and I think it is best that I’m leaving.”

He knelt before the headstone, reaching out with his gloved hand to touch it. The stone was cold and hard and he wished that some part of his father’s spirit would impart itself upon it so that he could feel it for himself one last time. The stone was, of course, unresponsive. Damien sighed, rising to his feet. “Esmeralda and I will be departing in a few days, and I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He walked back toward the palace slowly, breathing deeply. The cold, crisp air was cleansing and he took it deep into his lungs, marveling at how renewed it made him feel. 

He found Nicolai standing in the courtyard before the palace, watching as his luggage was loaded onto his carriage. 

“Leaving already?” Damien asked as he approached, watching the liveried footmen as they carefully lifted Nicolai’s heavy trunks.

“I’ll be going home for a day or two to look in on my father,” responded Nicolai. “Someone’s got to make sure the old man doesn’t drown at the bottom of that liquor bottle. I’ll be joining your brothers by the end of the week.”

“Have a pleasant journey.”

Nicolai turned to Damien
. H
is features alight with curiosity. “So you’re really going to the colonies, eh? You really are going to leave this place.”

Damien nodded, meeting his cousin’s amused gaze seriously. “I am. I won’t allow Lionus to dictate the course of my life. I want Esmeralda for my wife and a life of my own choosing.”

Nicolai nodded his understanding. “I get what you’re saying. I just hope you don’t regret this.”

“Never.”

Nicolai shrugged. “Well then, I guess now’s the time for good-bye.” He extended his hand to Damien. They shook hands first, then embraced tightly. “Good luck with your new life.”

“And good luck to you, Nicolai. I hope that Lionus does not try to arrange a marriage for you!” The two laughed together, doubled over and clutching their sides.    

Nicolai was suddenly serious. “I wonder…” he said slowly, studying Damien thoughtfully.

“What?”

“If the crown were available to you, would you come home to claim it?”

Damien was caught off guard by Lionus’ question. He wrinkled his brow and frowned, mulling over his cousin’s question. He shook his head quickly. “No. I told father once that such a thing is not for me. If, God-forbid, the crown should ever come to me I would let it pass down the line. Naturally, your father being next in line, it would eventually make its way to you.”

Nicolai chuckled and turned toward his carriage. “Of course these things hardly ever happen. With our luck, Lionus will live to be one hundred and fifty!”

Damien laughed with his cousin, knowing that he was going to miss these moments once he was gone. “I will miss you, Nicolai.”

“And I will miss you,” Nicolai replied. “But we all have to make our own fortunes, don’t we?”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Damien stood in the courtyard and watched as Nicolai’s carriage disappeared against the horizon. He turned to go back inside
. Damien
had much to accomplish if he and Esmeralda were to leave by the end of the week.

****

When Tristan came exploding through the back room at the Golden Dancer, Esmeralda knew immediately why he had come. She was expecting him, in fact, and was not the least bit surprised by his anger. He had heard that she was leaving, perhaps for good.

“What is this I hear about you leaving for America?” He slammed the door to her office behind him. She sat at her desk, pouring over the tavern’s ledgers, determined to leave things in order for Dominic and Tristan.

“I’ll be leaving at the end of the week,” she said calmly. She had been hoping to have a civilized conversation with him about this, but it seemed at this point that that was highly unlikely. “Mother, grandmother, and Desmond will be coming with me. I’ll be leaving The Golden Dancer to you and Dominic. With Tatiana and Morgana here, I have no doubt you can keep the place running.”

“I don’t give a damn about The Golden Dancer!” he bellowed, coming around her desk to stand before her. He grasped her by her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. “I care about you. This is madness what you’re doing, running away to marry this man! What would your father think of this?”

“My father would want me to be happy!” Esmeralda snapped, suddenly very tired of Tristan’s interference. “I know that you feel the need to protect me, but I don’t need that anymore! Soon I will have a husband that will protect me. What I need from you is your assurance that you will keep The Golden Dancer open. Desmond may want to return someday and it will be his by right of birth.”

Tristan stared at her silently for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working furiously as he clenched his teeth. For a moment
,
she thought he meant to strike her
. H
is hands curled into fists at his side until his knuckles were white. 

He spoke finally, his voice ominously low. “I had always believed that you would come to love me,” he said. “I hoped and wished for it like a fool. All this time you’ve kept me waiting and now you expect me to just let you leave? You think I will just stand by and let you get on a ship and sail half a world away?”

“Tristan, you have no say in this
.
This is my decision! You can either support me by taking over The Golden Dancer, or I will find someone else to do it.”

“You ask much of me, yet you are willing to give me nothing in return,” he said, his voice a low growl as reached out and pulled her roughly against him.

“Tristan, don’t!” she cried, pushing against his unyielding chest. “What about Morgana? I thought that you cared about her.”

Tristan laughed. “Your cousin is a nice girl, but I would turn my back on her in a moment if it meant I could have you.”

Esmeralda shook her head furiously as Tristan’s face inched closer to hers. His lips found hers and crushed them in a bruising kiss. She chose not to fight him, knowing that it would gain her nothing.
Esmeralda
allowed her lips to go soft and pliant beneath his, but did not respond to his skilled seduction of her lips.

He pulled away with a heavy sigh. When he released her, her arm shot out and her palm connected with his cheek. The sound of her hand against his face resounded through the small office like a gunshot.

Tristan was first shocked, them immediately repentant. “Forgive me,” he said, pressing his hand against his stinging face. “It’s just that I’ve loved you since I was a boy and I have often wondered what that would feel like.”

“Will you do what I’ve asked you?” she asked calmly.

He nodded. “You know I would do anything you ask of me.”

“Then I would ask one other thing of you.”

“Anything, Esmeralda.”

“Have a care for my cousin’s heart. She is young and frivolous. I would hate to see her hurt.”

Tristan nodded and, wordlessly, turned to leave. Esmeralda sat back behind her desk, lowering her head over her ledgers once more. She wondered when her relationship with Tristan had become so complicated.

“Good-bye my friend,” she said to the closed door of her office. “I wish that you would find your happiness somewhere.”

Chapter 17

The convoy of
vehicles
bearing the royal crest was only a few yards away. The newly crowned king and queen rode in one carriage, the queen mother and her son rode in the other. The masked man watched from his position among the trees. His hired men lurked in their strategically chosen places, waiting for his signal. He tasted victory, but would not allow himself to rejoice just yet. The success of his plan would depend entirely upon timing. The royal caravan would be heavily guarded, but he was confident that he had brought enough men to bring the king’s royal guard under submission. He sat patiently in the saddle of his horse and waited, watching as they drew ever closer.

When they were merely a few yards away, he lifted his pistol into the air and fired a single shot. This threw the king’s horses into a panic
. I
t also
communicated to
his men that it was time to act. They came from their places of hiding, surrounding the convoy as the drivers fought to regain control of the frightened horses.

“Stand down!” shouted the captain of the guard, unsheathing his sword
. H
is men followed suit. “By the authority of King Lionus, I order you to remove yourselves from our path or be cut down!”

He smiled behind his mask, pulling his own sword from its sheath, relishing the fight to come. “I do not follow the orders of your king. Tell your men to stand aside and let the mighty Lionus fight his own battles. There is no need for your men to die.”

Even as Serge and Lionus stepped from their separate carriages, swords at the ready, the armed guards formed a protective circle around the
m
, blocking the king and prince from harm. “So be it,” said the masked man, signaling his men to attack.

The sound of metal against metal shattered the silence of the night, the grunts and groans of fighting men
echoed
among the trees. Lionus fought his way through the
aggressive
gang of men, who all wore dark, course wool over the lower half of their faces. Their eyes were visible, filled with hatred and malice that Lionus did not understand. The silver-masked man waited for him, his sword raised to him in salute.

“Hail King Lionus!” he bellowed with a chuckle, bowing before him mockingly. Lionus stepped forward, steeling himself to face the man who had murdered his father. His mother and his wife huddled together in a carriage a few feet away; he had to protect them.

“Tell your men to stand down or I will run you through!” he commanded, searching the soulless black eyes of the silver mask. It seemed to taunt him, torment him. Lionus charged forward when the man did not respond, his sword at the ready. This man had killed his father
. Lionus
would show him no mercy.

The masked man was ready for him, bringing his sword up to parry Lionus’ thrust. The two men circled each other, neither a stranger to the deadly art of the sword. Lionus learned quickly not to underestimate his opponent’s skill. The man held the sword as if he’d been born that way, wielding it with deadly precision.
Lionus
fought calmly,
too
disinclined to allow his white-hot anger to affect his concentration. He soon had his opponent backed away from the battle that ensued behind them. Serge fought amongst the royal guards, desperately fighting to keep the men away from Alexandra and Isabelle.