Gypsy Rose

Elise Marion

The Lady Knights of Barony

Elise Marion

Copyright 2012 by Elise Marion

Edited by Christine Kirchoff

Cover Art by Mumson Designs

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

About The Author

More by Elise Marion

Coming Soon

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to so many people for aiding me in finishing this book. First and foremost, I’d like to thank my readers, who were my biggest cheerleaders between books, never forgetting to remind me that you all were waiting for Gypsy Rose. Thank you for making Kings of Cardenas a series of bestselling books at both Amazon and iTunes. Your continued support has meant the world to me.

Thank you to Jordan of Mumson Designs for your beautiful work on the new series covers. You breathed new life into these books by giving them a makeover to die for!

To R.K. Ryals, my friend, fellow coffee lover, convention/book signing partner, and one of the nicest people I know; thank you for all of your encouragement during the different phases of Gypsy Rose. I appreciate your putting up with me as I came to you with my doubts and fears for this installment. On the list of people the readers have to thank for the way this story unfolded, yours is definitely at the top!

And to Kevin, as always, I thank you for your patience and understanding, and not begrudging me those late nights spent writing, re-writing, crying, editing, and re-writing some more.

Prologue

Barony, 1857

The warm sun seemed to peek from behind the clouds just to shine its rays on the enchanting beauty dressed in white sprigged muslin alighting from the large, ornate carriage at the end of the lane. A liveried footman held his hand out to her, assisting her down the stairs and to the path below. The lavender ribbon and violet flowers on the brim of her veiled hat matched the floral pattern on her morning gown perfectly. In her white-lace gloved hands, she carried a frilly white parasol. A small reticule hung from one wrist. Wisps of inky black hair showed beneath the brim of her fashionable headwear and dark lashes were lowered over coal-black eyes.

She walked gracefully down the path leading to the front door of the cottage at the end of the lane and paused, checking the tiny slip of paper in her reticule for the third time to ensure she had to correct address. This was it; she crumbled the paper and shoved it back down into her reticule.

This was the place.

From the other side of the well-worn door, she could hear the screams and cries of young children. Whether they were playful screams or tortured ones, she had yet to decide. She raised one gloved hand to knock on the door. After several moments, the door swung open and a bedraggled-looking woman appeared. Strands of mousy brown hair were falling loose from the coiled bun on top of her head. The heavy strands hung in a face that seemed permanently fixed into an expression of misery. Her large eyes sported large, dark circles underneath. Lines creased her face around her nose and mouth, even though the lady knew that this woman was only a few years older than she was.

Wearing a stained apron over a homespun dress that had obviously been patched several times, she held an infant in one hand and had another child wrapped around her leg. The little girl stuck her fingers in her mouth and glanced up at the beautiful damsel in awe.

The woman frowned and glanced from the noblewoman, to the carriage and liveried servants and back to the lady again.

“Good afternoon,” the lady said, lifting the veil of her hat so that she could look the worn-down woman in the eye. “Are you Mary Forsyth?”

The woman nodded, shifting the infant to her other arm. “Yes milady,” she said in a small voice. The young miss had to strain to hear her. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, confusion still creasing her features.

“Yes,” the lady said. “My name is Tatiana Brandon. I am looking for someone and I was told that you could help me find him.”

Mary sighed with resignation. Her posture seemed even more slumped as she leaned against the doorway. If possible, the lines in Mary’s face seemed to deepen right before her very eyes. Tatiana could tell that she had lived a very hard life.

“Andrew is not here,” she said, as if repeating the sentence for the hundredth time. “I have not seen him in over a year.”

Tatiana frowned. “Does he not remain in contact with you? Are you not related to him?”

Mary laughed dryly and eyed Tatiana with disdain. “I’m his wife milady,” she scoffed. “Not that he treats me as such.”

Tatiana felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. “But … but I’m Lord Andrew’s wife!” she protested lamely, clutching her churning stomach and praying that she would not become ill in front of this woman.

“Yes, you and about five other ladies,” Mary replied with a shrug. “It would seem that you were his latest conquest.” She eyed Tatiana critically. “You’re definitely the prettiest in the bunch.”

“Wait one moment,” Tatiana said slowly, fighting against the lump that was working its way up in her throat. “He’s already married?”

Mary nodded. “I’m his first and legal wife,” she replied. “These are his children.” She indicated the baby in her arms, the toddler on her leg, and the two older children fighting on the rug behind her. “He dumped me here after Katherine was born,” she pointed down to the little girl hanging on her leg, “I’ve hardly seen or heard from him since. Well, there was of course that time one year ago …” she trailed off, tilting her head toward the sleeping infant in her arms. Tatiana could no longer hold back the tears that threatened her dignity.

Mary’s eyes filled with sympathy as the embarrassing droplets raced down Tatiana’s cheeks. Mary reached out a comforting hand and touched Tatiana’s shoulder. “I’m sorry dear,” she said. “You are not the first woman that Andrew has tricked this way. I fear that you may not be the last. He is charming and wonderful, and then he is gone, just as quickly as he appeared.”

Tatiana nodded. This was exactly the way things had gone between her and Lord Andrew Forsyth. He had appeared into her life out of nowhere, like something from a dream. Handsome, charming, and magnetic, he had drawn Tatiana to him like a moth to a flame. Because of her beauty, men had been falling all over themselves in her presence for as long as she could remember. Not one of them had affected her the way Andrew had. He was different. He was a gentleman; just the sort of man Tatiana had always dreamed of being with.

When he had asked her to marry him, she had been uncertain. Her family was wary of him from the start. Now it would seem that they had good reason to be suspicious of his intentions. Tatiana agreed to an elopement without hesitation. Nothing could have stood in her way.

She had abandoned her family and forsaken everything she knew in the name of love. Now, only three months later, he was gone. The only thing he had left her was with a letter, placed on the bed at the inn they had inhabited. They were only supposed to have been there long enough to prepare for their wedding trip, one that had never come. Tatiana knew the words of the letter by heart now. She had read it so many times.

My dearest Tatiana,

By the time you receive this note, I will be gone. Words cannot express to you the depth of my pain in this moment. It is with deep regret that I must end our marriage. Please do not despair my beautiful flower, you have done nothing wrong. It is just that the hearts of some men are so very fickle. I admit to being that very type of man. It is not that I am an unfeeling sort of fellow. After all, you and I did have some tender moments together didn’t we? I honestly thought in my heart that I loved you. I have come to see that we have made a terrible mistake. I hope that in time, you will come to forgive me and that perhaps someday we can be friends again. In the meantime, perhaps you should go back to your family. I am sure they will be relieved to have you home once again.

Your heartbroken and contrite husband,

Lord Andrew Forsyth

The letter remained at the bottom of her reticule, always a reminder of the crushing agony brought on by Lord Andrew’s rejection.

“If he should decide to come here, should I tell him you are looking for him?” Mary asked. “The chances are slim, but you never really know with Andrew.”

Tatiana shook her head quickly before swiping her hands across her damp eyes, forgetting the linen handkerchief in her reticule. “No,” she said vehemently. “There is no need. I found what I came here for.”

She had come for answers and gotten them. Operating under the impression that Mary was Lord Andrew’s sister, she had not been expecting to find another wife and four children. Who knew where the other women were? Did they spend their time waiting for their wandering husband to return? Tatiana knew without a doubt that he’d left many of them with children as well.

Tatiana lowered her veil back in place. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said before turning to leave. Halfway up the lane, she had a sudden thought and turned back to the cottage where Mary still stood, watching her. She removed the stunning brooch that her cousin had given her for her birthday, as well as her pearl earrings, and placed them in Mary’s palm.

“You should be able to get a nice sum for these,” she said, closing the stunned woman’s fingers over the precious jewelry. “For your children,” she added.

Mary looked down at the jewelry before smiling up at Tatiana. “Bless you, milady,” she said, stuffing the items down into the pocket of her apron. “God bless you.”

Tatiana turned to leave once more. The footman was waiting with the carriage door open when she approached. Once inside, Tatiana thought to give herself over to the tears she had been so desperately trying to hold back in front of Mary. However, as she stared out from behind the carriage window’s curtains, she found that she no longer had any more tears to cry. She now had what she needed to move on with her life. There was no need to seek Andrew out in any attempt at drawing up annulment or divorce papers. They were never really married to begin with.

As Tatiana leaned back against the plush carriage seat and closed her eyes, she gave herself over to the feeling that was now welling up inside of her chest. Greif and sadness were gone. Anger was nonexistent. There was nothing left to feel but bitterness. She felt it rising up inside, and did not try to contain it. She allowed it to swell and grow until she could practically taste its acrid flavor.

Marriage to anyone else was now, of course, out of the question. It was a wretched institution, one designed to keep a woman permanently under a man’s thumb. Just one look at Mary Forsyth had confirmed her belief. The bedraggled woman was tied forever in matrimony to a man who was not only unfaithful to her, but suffered no guilt over it to boot. He came and went from the little cottage as he pleased, completely aware of the fact that he was leaving his suffering wife behind.

Instead of sadness over the knowledge that Andrew had never really been her husband, Tatiana now felt relief. Never again, she said to herself. Never again would she allow herself to be in so precarious a position. To be under a man’s power was to be a slave, and Tatiana would never allow herself to become a slave to anyone. Marriage was absolutely, positively out of the question.

Chapter One

Cardenas, four months later

The balmy summer sun cast its rays over the white sand and sparkling blue water. The salty spray of seawater brought in by the tide was refreshing, and the feel of the sand between Tatiana’s toes made her feel alive. She untied the strings of her bonnet and slipped it from her head, allowing it to fall to the sandy ground, forgotten, having already discarded her slippers a few feet back. She raised the hem of her gown and moved closer to the water, smiling at the feel of cool water lapping at her bare feet as she sank her toes into the hot sand.

This far away from Cardenas’ busy dock, the beach was peaceful and serene. Tatiana often came here when she wanted to be alone. It was her place; a place where she could be herself and not have to worry about the prying eyes of others. She released the hem of her gown, no longer caring if it were soaked by rolling waves. It was just a gown. It would dry, and it wasn’t as if she did not have more than any girl had a right to.

Her life had not always been like this, and as she walked along with her arms outspread to the gentle summer breeze, she allowed her mind to wander back to a simpler time in her life. Had it only been almost two years since her cousin married a king? It seemed as if it had only been yesterday that Tatiana’s life was changed as a result of a marriage between a Gypsy dancer and a king.

When her cousin Esmeralda met Damien, he was only a prince, the youngest of three sons. No one could have ever guessed that Damien’s oldest brother would be killed. No one could have fathomed that the middle brother, Damien’s fraternal twin, would almost lose his life as well. As Serge lay in a coma for over a year, Damien had had no choice but to step up and claim the throne, making Esmeralda Queen of Cardenas.

Esmeralda’s world had been altered, and as a result, so had the lives of those in her family. She had moved into the palace with her husband and their daughter and taken her mother, brother, and grandmother with her. Not long after, she had asked Tatiana to join her as well.

“Just think,” Esmeralda had said, “you would be rubbing elbows with the most prestigious members of the court. You will finally get a taste of a different life, just as you’ve always wanted. Who knows, you may even make a good match at court.”

Tatiana had been thrilled at the thought of a new and exciting life. Her day-to-day existence had become incredibly tedious, boring even. Her days were filled with household duties that fell to her as the only woman of the house. In the evenings, she would join Esmeralda in dancing at a tavern in the heart of the city, and while she loved dancing, something in her always craved more.

Exciting moments in her life had been few and far between and it was for this reason that she’d jumped at the chance to join Esmeralda and her husband at Largess Hall, the sprawling palace that loomed on the edge of Cardenas.

Things had been delightful at first. Tatiana felt as if she were a queen as she was fitted for new clothes and undergarments. She had never owned so many fine things before. Morning dresses, walking gowns, spencers and redingotes, riding habits, evening and ball gowns at the height of fashion filled the armoires in her new chambers. Having only owned two dresses and a few homemade blouses and skirts, Tatiana hardly knew where to begin when dressing herself. Fortunately, she did not have to worry about these things as she’d been given her own personal maid to make those kinds of decisions for her. She never had to worry about dressing her own hair as the young maid was incredibly gifted in that area. She now wore undergarments made of silk and trimmed in fine lace. She even owned a corset!

She slept in a bed big enough to fit four and never had to lift a finger if she didn’t want to. Gone were the days of milking goats and sweeping wooden floors. Gone were the days of dancing in a tavern. Tatiana had hardly been able to believe her luck.

She became a fast favorite at court, envied by the women and adored by the men. She attended parties and teas almost daily and never went one day without at least two or more suitors coming to call on her. Every morning the sitting area attached to her suite would be filled with flowers as the footmen delivered them along with notes written by the courtiers that had become besotted with her.

As she walked alone the beach, she noticed that the sun was starting to dip down toward the horizon and decided that perhaps it was time to go back. She turned back the way she came, intending to pick up her bonnet and slippers before going back to the carriage that had carried her to the docks. As she retrieved her slippers, she noticed the figure of a man headed toward her across the sand. He was tall and broad, and his long-legged stride held just the hint of a limp.

As he neared, Tatiana realized it was Serge, King Damien’s older brother. Even though more than a year had passed since Serge awakened from a coma and he was now fully recovered, Tatiana was still getting used to seeing him up and walking around. After a terrible incident in which he was dragged behind a racing carriage, no one had expected the prince to live. This was why Damien had taken the throne.

After Serge had awakened suddenly, no one was quite sure what do about the throne. According to the law, Damien was the rightful king, but everyone knew that the title truly belonged to Serge. In a compromise that left everyone satisfied, Serge had been wed to Princess Isabelle from the neighboring province, Barony, and became king there. After the marriage, they traveled to Barony as he and his new queen fought against rebel insurgents that had taken control of the land.

Months after the brutal war ended, things in Barony were finally as they should be. The villages and towns were being rebuilt and slowly making their way back toward prosperity. She was glad to have returned to Cardenas. Barony was where she’d met Andrew. It was where all of her dreams had dissolved right before her very eyes.

Serge smiled at Tatiana as he neared and she could not help but smile back. His easy-going nature, marked by his lazy, boyish smile, was infectious. Even though everyone knew Damien as the handsomest of the Largess brothers, Tatiana secretly found Serge more to her liking. While Damien possessed a perfectly angelic face, Serge’s looks appealed to Tatiana in their strong masculinity. His gleaming, shoulder-length blond-brown hair had been brushed back from his forehead and secured at the back of his neck, left to hang down between his shoulder blades. His cobalt eyes twinkled merrily as he extended his arm to her. Even the scar running down the right side of his face from eye to jawline did not detract from his looks. If anything, it added to his appeal.

“Isabelle sent me for you,” he said as she linked her arms through his and allowed him to lead her back toward the docks. “We are leaving this afternoon and she did not want to go without saying good-bye.”

Tatiana was going to be sorry to see them go, but she knew that they had to leave now since Queen Isabelle’s baby was due in less than one month.

“It is nice to see that you have found a place of your own,” he said as they walked. Tatiana looked up at him.

“I have always loved the sea,” she said with a small smile. “When I’m here I can forget everything else.”

He nodded in understanding. “I know this cannot have been an easy time for you,” he said, “but you should not worry so much about the gossip. Soon there will be another scandal, and the rumor-mongers will have something else to talk about.”

Tatiana was sure he was right; after all, he had spent his entire life around these people. However, right this moment, as she thought on the dinner party planned for the evening, she wished that she could just closet herself in her room for the rest of her life. Where she had once been a sparkling gem among the ladies of the court, she was now a soiled dove. Now she could barely walk into a room without several hundred pairs of eyes swiveling in her direction. She hated their stares. She hated their raised fans and gloved hands, as they tried to hide their mouths while whispering about her.

Seeing her frown and turbulent eyes, Serge patted her hand with his. “Do not concern yourself with them, Tatiana. Like all things, this too, will pass.”

He was right, of course. She had no reason to be wallowing in her own self-pity. What happened with Andrew had been her fault entirely. She had allowed his pretty lies to infiltrate her heart, a mistake she had vowed never to make again. “You’re right,” she said as they neared the busy docks. “Thank you.”

They continued their walk in silence. As they passed by the busy docks, Tatiana glanced over her shoulder at the many vessels there. Seeing them just reminded her of the adventure she had missed out on and the longing she had for a new start. How she wished she could get on one of those ships and be carried away to some exotic new place.

***

The main hall of the palace was bustling with activity as Tatiana and Serge walked through the massive double doors. Trunks upon trunks filled the large vestibule; footmen scurried about under the direction of the butler, Jarvis. Three carriages were at the ready in the courtyard outside.

“I do not know why Isabelle insists on carrying so many trunks when we come to visit,” Serge said with a sigh as he removed his coat. He handed it off to a footman.

Tatiana laughed before removing her bonnet and spencer and handing them to the same footman. “A lady is always prepared,” she said with a shrug.

“A lady does not go about wearing a soiled gown,” retorted a teasing voice from over her shoulder. Tatiana turned and smiled at the old gray-haired butler who stood smirking behind her. Tatiana had come to see Jarvis as a grandfather of sorts; the two had become quite close since she’d moved into the palace.

Tatiana closed the distance between them and reached up to wrap her arms around Jarvis’ neck. He patted her on the back affectionately and looked down at her with twinkling blue eyes. “Off dreaming again, girl?”

“As always Jarvis,” she replied before pulling away. “Where is everyone?”

“Queen Esmeralda and Queen Isabelle are taking tea in the yellow salon. They wish for you to join them.”

Serge was already headed in that direction. Tatiana lifted the hem of her skirt and trotted to keep up with his long strides. The two lavishly dressed women looked up from their teacups as they entered the room. They were as different from each other as night was from day, but two closer friends did not exist in this world. They were quite a pair. Esmeralda tall, slender, with dark ebony waves, and amber eyes, Isabelle short, curvaceous, with light blonde hair, and pale blue eyes. Tatiana smiled as she always did at the sight of their identical pregnant bellies. She could think of nothing more fitting for two friends so close, than for them to have become pregnant at almost the exact same time.

Serge was at his wife’s side in a flash, concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling today, darling?” he asked, as he looked her over from head to toe. This was Isabelle’s first pregnancy and Serge had become quite attentive in the last few months. Isabelle had expressed her annoyance with him on several occasions. Her icy blue eyes snapped in annoyance as she lowered her teacup to the saucer. “I’m fine, Serge,” she said, her soft voice edged in impatience. “Just as I was this morning.”

He kissed her cheek softly and smiled. “I know you are annoyed with me, dear, but this is what you get for insisting we travel away from home so close to the baby’s arrival. I will not be content until you are resting in your own bed.”

“Thank goodness we are leaving today then,” she answered with a tiny smile. She reached out with one hand to pat his gently before turning toward the polished silver tea service on the table before them. “Tea?”

“Let me get that darling,” he insisted as he pushed her hands away. Isabelle rolled her eyes and helped herself to a scone.

Tatiana took a seat in the yellow and white brocade armchair across from them and turned to her cousin. “And how are you today, Esmeralda?”

Esmeralda ran one hand over her swollen belly before reaching for a pastry dusted with sugar. “Hungry,” she replied with a wide grin before taking a bite. She closed her honey-hued eyes and groaned in appreciation as she chewed. “At this rate, I’ll be as big as a house by the time the baby comes.”

“Nonsense,” said a masculine voice from the doorway. Esmeralda’s husband, Damien, stood framed in the doorway. He strode into the room and went immediately to his wife. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

As he lowered his long frame onto the couch beside her, Tatiana could not help but agree. The two made quite a striking pair, she with her golden skin, raven black hair and amber eyes, he with his light blond hair, chiseled features and emerald green eyes.

Esmeralda gazed upon her husband adoringly and offered him a bite of her pastry before turning to make him a cup of tea. As Tatiana watched the four of them interacting so comfortably, she felt like an intruder.

She could not help feeling a bit jealous as she watched them. This is what she had wanted for her life. This is what she had hoped her future would be like when she ran off to marry Andrew. However, men like Serge and Damien were few and far between. She knew that Esmeralda and Isabelle were among the few women she knew that were fortunate enough to have husbands who actually loved and respected them.

Deciding to give the engrossed couples a few moments alone, Tatiana rose and slipped out of the room quietly. Jarvis leaned against the banister, watching the footmen as they hauled Isabelle’s heavy trunks out to the waiting carriages.

“Jarvis, I’ll just take lunch in my room,” she said as she breezed past him, forcing herself to keep her voice light. Jarvis, as always, saw right through her cheerful façade.

“Chin up girl,” he whispered as she walked past him and up the staircase. Tatiana sighed as she turned down the corridor to the right, toward her chambers. Thinking of tonight’s dinner party, she was not certain how easy it would be to follow Jarvis’ advice. Almost every member of the court would attend, and because her would-be marriage was still the juiciest bit of gossip at the moment, all eyes would be on her.

***

“Stop fussing, you look beautiful. Can we go downstairs now? I’m starving.”

Tatiana glanced up into her vanity mirror and met the eyes of the dark, handsome man behind her. She glared at him in annoyance. Her cousin, Desmond, had come to escort her downstairs to the dinner party celebrating Damien’s twenty-seventh birthday. It would be Esmeralda’s last soiree until the new baby’s christening, and because it was her husband’s birthday, it was important to Esmeralda that they not be late.

Esmeralda’s younger brother paced behind her impatiently, waiting for her select her jewelry for the evening. She had been dressed and her maid, Karen, had already arranged her hair beautifully and was wearing her slippers. Her reticule lay on the vanity table beside her. Tatiana was stalling.

She knew it and Desmond knew it, which was why he was being so impatient.

“Just another moment,” she insisted as she pretended to rifle through the large, velvet-lined jewelry chest that Esmeralda had given her. “I want to choose just the right pieces.”

Desmond rolled his eyes and sighed. “No one is going to be looking at your jewelry Tatiana,” he insisted. “They’re all going to be looking at your face. Like always. Quit stalling and let’s go.”

“I don’t even think I should be going,” she mumbled as she clasped a gold chain with a large emerald pendant around her neck. It matched her green satin gown to perfection. She fastened the matching earrings to her ears and slid the accompanying ring on over her elbow-length, white gloves. “They’re only going to gossip about me when my back is turned.”

“Don’t give them the satisfaction by not showing up,” Desmond insisted as she stood and looped the drawstring of her reticule around her wrist. “The scandal will pass and they’ll find something else to talk about.”

Tatiana nodded in acquiescence, knowing that missing the party would do no good. If anything, it would cause the gossips to speculate over her absence. She checked her appearance one last time in the full-length mirror against the wall and turned to accept Desmond’s arm.

“Finally,” he mumbled as he moved toward the door swiftly. Tatiana had to move at a near run to keep up with him.

“Slow down!” she exclaimed. “She isn’t going anywhere, you know.”

She watched the color rising in Desmond’s cheeks at the mention of her, Lady Abigail Norton, the girl who had stolen Desmond’s young heart. Just as Tatiana had been, Desmond was enthralled with the glittering world of the royal court. He was entranced by the opulence and the glitter. He was head over heels in love with Lady Abigail.

“She is not the reason I’m in a hurry,” he insisted as he reluctantly slowed his pace. “I told you, I’m starving.”

Tatiana chuckled and let the matter go for now. She knew that what he was saying was only half-true. He did have an oversized appetite, possibly because he had grown up and filled out at an alarming rate in the last couple of years. Tatiana glanced at him from the corner of her eye and tried to see him as the ladies of the court must see him. Tall and impossibly broad, with a swarthy complexion and dark hair and eyes, Desmond was like something out of every young girl’s dream. It was no wonder they practically threw themselves at him.

Tatiana’s heart fluttered as they neared the larger, formal dining room used for entertaining. She could hear the hum of voices and the tinkling of glasses and knew that nearly everyone had arrived. She halted in her tracks just outside the dining room doors, forcing Desmond to stop as well. He glanced down at her silently, waiting for her to decide when she was ready to go inside. He gave her hand a light, reassuring squeeze.

Tatiana drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before nodding to Desmond that she was ready. He gestured toward the footmen braced on either side of the double doors, and the servants swung them open.

Conversation ceased. The tinkling sound of wine glasses clinking together and silver flatware against china faded against the backdrop of the occasional whisper or gasp. She drew herself up to her full but meager height and raised her chin a few inches, putting an additional dose of grace into her movements as she floated in on her cousin’s arm under the intense scrutiny of one hundred pairs of eyes.

Alexandra, the Queen Mother who was recently returned from a tour of Italy, stood and crossed the room swiftly yet gracefully, like a burgundy silk ship navigating the stormy waters of the veined marble floors beneath her feet. Her smile was forced and tight as she halted their progress, her back to the guests who pretended to go back to their first soup course. They were, of course, listening intently, some of them even leaning slightly toward the doorway with the white broth of a fish soup spilling from the sides of their ornate spoons.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, her eyes narrowed and fixed on Tatiana as if she were a tavern whore.

The arrogant tilt to Tatiana’s chin came down a notch—Damien’s mother was an intimidating woman.

“I believe I was invited,” she said coolly, careful to keep her tone low. Behind the Queen Mother, she noticed Damien rising from the head of the table and Esmeralda peeking from behind the high back of her chair at the other end, her expression one of concern.

Damien smiled and nodded politely as he walked the length of the impossibly long table, his pace brisk, his polished evening shoes clicking noisily on the gleaming marble floors.

“How good of you to join us!” he exclaimed just loud enough for everyone to hear, his tone warm as he bent from his considerable height to kiss Tatiana on the cheek. He shook Desmond’s hand and patted him on the back before placing a hand on each of their shoulders to guide them toward the table.

“Mother, you remember Esmeralda’s brother, Desmond, and her cousin, Tatiana,” he said with an icy glare in her direction before turning his warm and genuine smile on Tatiana. “Esmeralda has saved you both seats near her,” he said as they approached the foot of the table where Esmeralda was seated. Sure enough, to her left and right were the only empty seats left at the table. Desmond made a beeline for the seat at Esmeralda’s right, placing him squarely beside Lady Abigail, who sat batting her eyelashes at him. Tatiana turned to Damien with her best smile, ignoring Alexandra’s blistering stare as the woman returned to her seat.

“Happy birthday,” she said softly before taking her seat.

She hated to steal attention away from the man at an occasion meant to celebrate him, but she could not help it if the royal court were all a bunch of gossips. Ignoring them, she thanked the footman spooning a creamy fish soup into the bowl in front of her. Tatiana flicked the buttons at the wrists of her evening gloves, pulling them back from her fingers discreetly before taking up her spoon.

It was as if her first bite of soup signaled everyone at the table to resume their mealtime conversations. The low and steady buzz of voices picked up, although several pairs of eyes continued turning her way throughout the course.

“What’s going on?” Tatiana whispered to Raina—Esmeralda’s mother—who was seated to her right.

The beautiful Gypsy woman was only recently beginning to show signs of her age, with a few strands of silver streaking her dark hair and the slight crinkle of lines near the eyes and mouth. Those lines were more pronounced now, as she turned to her niece, her amber eyes dull and mouth pinched.

“Oh dear,” she whispered. “Don’t concern yourself with it, it’s only gossip. Please, let us just enjoy the evening.”

Brow wrinkled in consternation, she turned her gaze on Esmeralda. “Just tell me,” she whispered. “Why is everyone staring at me as I’ve grown another head?”

With a deceptively careless movement, Esmeralda sent her spoon sailing to the floor.

“Oh no,” she said just loud enough for those closest to them to hear.

“Oh, let me get that,” Tatiana offered, bending at the waist at the same time as Esmeralda.

Two dark heads met beneath the table and Esmeralda whispered quickly in hushed tones.

“It is about Lord Forsyth.”

Tatiana frowned. “I will be so grateful when our elopement becomes old news.”

“I’m afraid it is. There is new gossip now,” Esmeralda replied as she pretended to feel around for the silver spoon concealed beneath the skirt of her voluminous evening gown. “Word has spread from Barony already of the return of the Lady Knights from the island of Martinique.”

She nodded her understanding as she remembered Isabelle mentioning a recent rash of kidnappings in Barony. She and King Serge had dispatched the leaders of the female soldier’s regiment to the French settled island to solve the mystery of the kidnappings and bring the missing women home.

“The rumor is,” Esmeralda continued, “that the man responsible for the kidnappings is none other than Lord Forsyth. They say that he was selling the women to brothels and other seedy establishments under the pseudonym Dorian Blake. The court is all in a tizzy over it.”

Tatiana nearly fell from her chair as Esmeralda righted herself, producing the spoon with a radiant smile as she shouted, “I’ve found it!” a bit louder than necessary. A footman was at her side in an instant, trading a clean spoon for the dropped one. By the time Tatiana set herself to rights in the chair, she felt as if she were going to be sick.

The meal continued around them as snatches of conversation about the latest fashion plates recently arrived from France mingled with talk of a newly opened pugilists club for men. Tatiana, who six months earlier would have reveled in talk of the latest French fashions, barely heard a word of it. Suddenly, the fish soup was too thick and her throat felt as if it had constricted, barring all food from entering her stomach. She decided to sip her wine instead, hoping that the rush of spirits through her veins would calm the devastation wreaking havoc on her senses.

Andrew…her Andrew…a peddler of human flesh? It had been easy to think of him as a hopeless romantic who fell in and out of love easily after reading his letter. Then, after finding his hidden wife and children, Tatiana had painted him as a rake and a lecher in her mind. But this … this went beyond all reason. This was the final nail in the coffin housing her reputation. Even now, as the first soup course was taken away and replaced with another, she could feel the eyes of many of the court’s men upon her.

Several arched eyebrows issued scandalous invitations that set her cheeks on fire. She knew they were wondering just what sort of scandalous things she had allowed Andrew to do to her. Perhaps even—and the thought made her cringe—if he’d lent her services out to other men during their time together. She could feel the stares of the women, judging and condemning her, branding her a whore. She was no better in their eyes than the courtesans who carried on discreetly with their husbands.

Tatiana signaled a footman for more wine and forced herself to take a few bites of turnip soup, even though she abhorred the vegetable. If she were going to survive the evening, she was going to need lots of wine, and could not imbibe on an empty stomach. Her glass was refilled and she sipped greedily, ignoring the concerned glances from Esmeralda and the inane chatter of Desmond and Lady Abigail from across the table.

Chapter Two

By the time the dessert course came around, Tatiana was well and truly inebriated. Between courses of rich soups, legs of mutton and beef with vegetables, meat pies, curries, cheeses, puddings, meringues and cakes topped with fruit and dusted with sugar, she downed indecent quantities of wine. The disapproving eyes of the Queen Mother never left her, the narrow blue slits of rage hot enough to dissolve her into ash, but Tatiana ceased caring around five glasses ago. The warm feeling stealing through her veins demolished all thought of propriety or embarrassment.

When Esmeralda announced a planned entertainment in the blue drawing room—the largest one reserved for large parties—Tatiana found she could barely stay on her feet as the court made their way en masse down the corridor. Pausing to lean against the paneled wall, she closed her eyes and fought the dizziness pulling at the edges of her consciousness. While she’d decided that she no longer cared about anyone’s opinion, she did wish to make it up to her chambers without falling or losing consciousness and thereby adding to the gossip fodder.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Desmond and a giggling Lady Abigail breaking away from the crowd.

“Shhh!” Desmond urged as he pulled her against his side, his laughter muffled behind her delicate hand. “This way,” he whispered as Tatiana ducked into a the doorway of a smaller drawing room, concealed by the shadows as Desmond and Abigail rushed by, heedless to her presence.

“The conservatory is so beautiful at night,” he said as they disappeared down the winding hall, “I can’t wait to kiss you there beneath the glow of starlight.”

Tatiana rolled her eyes and came out of hiding once the sound of their footsteps faded. She wondered how long Desmond’s romantic drivel would last once Lady Abigail trapped him into marriage. She wondered if she shouldn’t find Damien and warn him of the acts undoubtedly being committed in his beloved conservatory, but decided against it. If Desmond was not intelligent enough to learn from the mistakes he’d watched her make, then Tatiana was damned if she was going to try to talk sense into him.

Satisfied that no one would see her retreating to her chambers in a drunken stupor, Tatiana moved from her spot in the doorway, only to come crashing into a wide chest. A crisp cravat smothered her as a strong pair of hands gripped her upper arms. An enormous jeweled tiepin nearly took out her left eye.

“I beg your pardon.”

The voice belonged to none other than Lord Trenton White, who did not appear the least bit apologetic as he loomed over her, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes.

“Well, well, what have we here? Lady Tatiana, whatever are you doing away from the rest of our party, and hiding in a shadowed doorway no less? Awaiting your lover?”

“I don’t have a lover,” she spat, attempting to dislodge her arm from Lord White’s hold. He was as intoxicated as she—judging by the smell of the fumes coming off him—but unlike Tatiana, who was weakened by the effects of wine, Trenton seemed strengthened by them. His vice-like grip tightened as he brought his body against hers, unashamedly pressing the hardened ridge of flesh between his legs against her belly.

“A sad state of affairs that I am more than willing to rectify,” he murmured as he gently grasped her chin in his hand. His thumb caressed her jaw line as he forced her to look up into his eyes. “Christ, you’re a beautiful little thing. Kiss me, darling, and don’t be shy about it, open your mouth for me.”

He lowered his head toward her, his mouth open, the smell of Port nearly choking her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she realized she hadn’t the strength to fight him.

“No,” she protested as she turned her head, cringing as his wet lips made contact with her cheek. “Please, Lord White, let me go! My cousin will worry and send someone to find me.”

He chuckled and secured her other arm, snaking his hand down to her wrists and imprisoning her arms at her side, thrusting her against the door.

“The Queen is too busy entertaining to notice one girl missing from a gathering of nearly one hundred guests. “Just a taste, love,” he whispered, releasing one of her arms to reach for her skirt. “Lift your skirts for me and I’ll take you to heaven.”

The whisper of silk and crinoline bunching up toward her thigh threw her into a panic, and her palm made contact with his face before she could stop it. Trenton froze, the limpid intoxication gone from his eyes, melted away in the face of stark rage.

“So that’s the way it’s going to be?”

He grasped her by the shoulders and shook her, hard enough to rattle her teeth and bash her head against the heavy drawing room door. Bright spots of color and light swirled within her field of vision as dizziness weakened her knees. Pain exploded at the back of her head and sticky, coppery blood trickled down the back of her neck as she slumped against Trenton, who had thrown open the drawing room door and was backing her toward into the darkened room. Her back met the arm of a plush sofa, and she toppled onto it, barely able to lift her hands in defense before Trenton was looming over her.

“You dare to refuse me? A common tart whose been passed around by God knows how many Frenchmen by that blaggard Lord Forsyth?”

Tears sprung to Tatiana’s eyes as she realized that she’d been beaten. Her ineffectual blows to Trenton’s chest had gone unnoticed; the scratch marks streaking his face were of no consequence. He grasped both her hands in one of his and raised them above her head, jerking at the neckline of her gown with the other.

“Please,” she begged, not caring how desperate she sounded. If Trenton had a single ounce of humanity in him, he would let her go. “Please, my lord, those stories are not true.”

Trenton snorted as he freed one of her breasts, squeezing it painfully. “I have it on good authority that they are,” he snarled as she cried out from the pain of his hand assaulting her tender flesh. A stinging slap was her reward and it silenced her effectively. “And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you had gone along like a good girl and done things the easy way.”

Tatiana squeezed her eyes shut, muffling the sobs filling her chest by pressing her lips together. She tried to call up images of Cardenas’ pristine white beach, hoped to calm herself with visions of white sails blowing in the breeze and blue skies beckoning from over a yawning and rolling sea—just until it was over, until the humiliation of what was about to occur had passed.

A familiar voice brought relief.

“Remove yourself from Lady Tatiana’s person this instant!”

Trenton stiffened, leaping to his feet swiftly and straightening his rumpled tailcoat as he turned to face the man who had interrupted his plans. Jarvis stood in the doorway, dashing in his livery, his white hair combed back from his face. He held a silver pistol, the end of which was trained on Lord White’s chest.

Trenton at least had the good sense to look ashamed as Jarvis entered the room.

“Lord Trenton White,” Jarvis seethed. His jaw tightened as he advanced on the younger man. When he stopped, the pistol was mere inches away from Trenton’s heart. “Son of Lord Vallon and Lady Gail. Gambler, drunk, and debaucher … rumor has it that at least five other fathers would love nothing more than to have you in this position after your encounters with their daughters.”

“They’re liars, all of them,” Trenton insisted as Tatiana fumbled with the bodice of her gown. She wanted to move, to stand up and run to Jarvis, thank him for saving her, but the blood soaking the cushions beneath her head and the dizziness that stole the sharpness of her vision warned against it.

“Besides,” Trenton continued, straightening his lapel and cocking his head to the side, “no one will take your word over mine. I am a fifth generation son of a lord of the royal court and you are merely the butler.”

Jarvis didn’t even flinch in the face of Trenton’s bravado. Swiftly, he brought the butt of his pistol down across the arrogant lord’s face. Before his body could sink to the ground, Jarvis grasped him by his waistcoat, lifting until Trenton’s feet hovered an inch above the carpet. Trenton’s head lolled on his shoulders as if detached from his neck, but his glassy eyes remained wide and focused on Jarvis.

“Hear me, you pretentious rakehell. I have been serving the royal family since before you were even born. I have protected the King and his family from scandal, murderous plots, and even the schemes of a mistress or two. I have no reservations about putting a mongrel pup like you in his place, and care even less if I have to do it violently. I may be old, but I am experienced, and I daresay a match for a drunken fool. You will remove yourself from Largess Hall immediately and are to never set foot across the threshold. If you do, there shall be hell to pay, you can mark my words.”

He pronounced the end of his lecture by tossing Lord White into the nearest armchair. Trenton righted himself and turned to leave, mumbling the whole way about servants forgetting their place and something regarding his father taking this up with the King. Tatiana finally released the breath she’d been holding when he was gone. Jarvis rushed to her side and knelt beside the couch, gingerly snaking his arms beneath her body to lift it. The kindness and pity in his eyes were too much, and caused the tears that had pooled in the corners of her eyes to fall. She shuddered as he lifted her against his chest, sobbing into his shoulder as he started for the door, his gait surprising sure and strong for one of such advanced age.

“Shhh, hush now,” he murmured as he swiftly carried her toward the servant’s staircase. He slowed his step once they were safe from being seen. “I’ve got you now, girl. That lecher will not be welcomed here again, His Majesty will see to it as soon as I tell him what I witnessed.”

“It’s not that, Jarvis,” she cried, the trembling uncontrollable now. She was suddenly overcome with the need to rip the emerald gown from her body and dive into a scalding hot bathtub. The need to scrub Lord Trenton White’s fingerprints from her body.

Yet she knew that no amount of washing or scrubbing could erase his scalding words. While they carried no truth, they reflected the opinion of all the other men of the court. Even if she wanted to try for good match, her chances had now gone from unlikely to impossible. No man would ever look upon her without seeing a wanton whore; one meant to be used for his own pleasure and then discarded.

Anger and humiliation coursed through her, fueling her antipathy toward the man who had ruined her life.

“I hate him,” she whispered against Jarvis’ shoulder. “I hate what he’s done to me.”

“I know, love,” Jarvis encouraged as he made his way down the corridor leading to her chambers. “You there,” he called to a maid storing clean linen in a nearby closet. “Open the door to Lady Tatiana’s room and then send for the physician. She has been injured.”

“Oh dear!” the maid cried, lifting her skirts to run ahead of them and throw open the door. “Just lay her on the bed there and I’ll see to her, Sir.”

Jarvis did as the maid asked, but remained, pulling a chair beside the bed and grasping her hand as the maid rushed to call for help and send for the doctor.

“Don’t leave me,” Tatiana pleaded. Jarvis’ presence soothed her, offered a fatherly comfort she had never experienced before coming to the palace. Her own father had never treated her with so much love and respect.

“Never,” Jarvis promised with a smile, planting a kiss on the back of her hand. His voice became distant as consciousness slipped away from her. “I’m right here.”

***

When morning came and Tatiana opened her eyes, Jarvis was still at her side, slumped over in the armchair beside her bed. His head rested against the back of the chair at an uncomfortable angle, his rumpled cravat loosened and his black tailcoat draped across his lap. His chest rose and fell evenly, yet his eyelids fluttered, his bushy grey eyebrows furrowed over them as if he were deep in thought, even in his sleep.

She moved to sit up, but a sharp pain stabbed through the back of her head and forced her back against the pillows. Her hand came up and encountered a lump the size of a goose egg buried beneath her thick hair, and she groaned as memories of the previous night’s disastrous dinner party and attack assaulted her. The subsequent bathing and dressing of her body and wounds was followed by a visit from a doctor who declared her injury minor and prescribed a day or two of bed rest and doses of laudanum when needed. A visit from Esmeralda, who’d insisted she take the drug with a cup of tea, preceded another fade from consciousness.

The sound of her pained groans woke Jarvis, who straightened abruptly, blinking his bleary eyes rapidly as he fought to get his bearings.

“Good morning,” she whispered, unable to speak any louder for fear of bringing on more of the throbbing pain hammering away at her temples. “When I asked you not to go, I only meant until the maids and doctor returned.”

Jarvis stretched and rubbed at his neck with a sheepish smile. “Nonsense,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. “This old body has seen its fair share of sleeping in chairs,” he added with a chuckle. The sound of joints crackling as he stretched produced a giggle from Tatiana.

“Even so, I think that you should consider finding your own bed tonight,” she answered, plucking at the sleeve of her nightgown.

Jarvis stood and slid his jacket back on, once again the picture of stoic perfection once his cravat was smoothed.

“You know,” she added, “your spending the night here could be misconstrued as something that it’s not. You should be careful not to let my bad reputation ruin your good name.”

Jarvis’s lips turned up at the corners and his eyes twinkled. “I haven’t the foggiest notion what you mean, my dear,” he said. “I am merely looking after a girl who’s become like my own daughter after a harrowing experience. Besides that, I was working under the direct order of my King, who suggested that I remain as you asked me to. Anyone who has a problem with that should feel free to take it up with me … or better yet, His Majesty.”

Tatiana smiled. “You are too good to me.”

Jarvis placed one finger under her chin and tilted her face up, placing a chaste kiss upon her forehead. “No, dear, the affection I show you is what any daughter deserves from a father. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Tatiana swallowed, forcing back another bout of tears. She grasped Jarvis’ hand and squeezed it tightly before allowing him to pull away and move toward the door.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper, choked with emotion. “No need to worry, I’ll be fine. If you wouldn’t mind, please pull the bell chord to summon a maid before you leave. I don’t think I’ll be making it down to breakfast this morning.”

“As you wish,” Jarvis said with a stiff bow, the perfect butler once again. He did as she asked and pulled the tasseled cord before taking his leave.

Once alone, Tatiana lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes, her mind racing over the events of the night before. By the time the maid appeared with her breakfast tray, she’d come to a decision, one that was sure to upset her cousin, but a necessary one. She ate as much as she could, knowing she would need her strength for the ensuing argument with Esmeralda. She had just drained the last of her tea when a knock on the door preceded Esmeralda’s entrance. She had come with reinforcements, and Tatiana wasn’t sure if she should be happy to see both her aunt and grandmother. That would all depend on whether or not the three of them decided to lecture her on the foolishness of overindulging in spirits before wandering off from a party, leaving her prey to drunken, sexually rampant guests.

To her relief, the three women were nothing but concerned.

“How are you this morning?” Esmeralda asked as they gathered around. Raina helped her daughter into the chair Jarvis had just vacated before bustling to the other side of the bed to pull up a second chair for the girls’ grandmother, Akira. The wizened Gypsy took Tatiana’s hands between her wrinkled ones and studied her closely as Raina bustled about, taking the breakfast tray from her lap and retrieving Tatiana’s comb, brush and basin of water from behind the painted screen in the corner. She gratefully submitted to her aunt’s ministrations and allowed Raina to pull a comb gently through her nearly waist-length locks.

“I feel awful,” Tatiana admitted. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Of course you didn’t!” Esmeralda exclaimed, her hands balling to fists in her lap. Fire flashed in the depths of her yellow-gold eyes and white lines appeared around a mouth gone tight with anger. “Lord White should consider himself fortunate that I was able to talk Damien out of having him arrested and executed.”

Tatiana’s eyebrows shot up. “Would Damien really have done that?”

Esmeralda nodded. “Most definitely. I was not able to talk him out of a duel. He may well be at Wheatley Manor as we speak, issuing a challenge to that bastard.”

Tatiana gasped, clapping one hand over her mouth. “Oh no. It’s too much, Esmeralda! I would never ask him to do such a thing!”

Esmeralda leaned back in her chair and ran a hand absently over her swollen belly. “It has already been done. Besides, as the man of this house and your appointed guardian, Damien reserves the right to defend your honor. He wouldn’t have it any other way and neither would I. Any man who attempts to force a woman against her will deserves much more than the edge of my husband’s sword.”

Tatiana lowered her eyes and decided against argument. Her cousin’s experience with men before her loving husband had been less than ideal. She could never begin to understand the pain and humiliation that Esmeralda had suffered to have her virginity stolen so recklessly and brutally. Now, after what Lord White had done, Tatiana knew a small portion of that pain. Her cousin felt strongly about this and because Damien loved her, so did he. She would not interfere; in fact, a part of her felt nothing but satisfaction at the thought of Trenton cowering at the edge of Damien’s sword.

“Sort of an unfair advantage,” she pointed out, “a duel against a King.”

“That’s the idea,” Akira said with a cackling laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners with age and laughter.

Tatiana couldn’t resist a smile. Raina lowered herself into the edge of the bed and began braiding locks of Tatiana’s hair.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said to Esmeralda after a few moments of silence.

“Tatiana, there is no need for you to keep apologizing for last night. You have done nothing wrong.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “It is something else … a decision I made this morning after thinking over all that’s happened in the past few months.”

Eyebrows creased with curiosity, Esmeralda leaned forward in her chair. Akira lowered her eyes and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

“What is it?” Esmeralda asked.

Tatiana took a deep breath and soldiered on. “First, I just want to say that I appreciate everything that you and Damien have done for me. I know that you didn’t marry him for his position and wealth, but they’ve certainly done things for this family that none of us could have even imagined a few years ago.”

Esmeralda nodded and smiled. “I know. I find it all hard to believe at times.”

“At first I was excited about our new lives. You know how I looked forward to coming to Largess Hall and attending the balls, parties, and teas. You filled my closets with the latest fashions and gave me my pick of men to consider for marriage. You opened up a world to me that I wanted to be a part of since I was a child. I owe you so much for that.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“But I don’t want it anymore.”

The other three women spoke at the same time, and it took a moment for the others to understand what had been said. Esmeralda blinked rapidly, her expression changing from one of curiosity to one of confusion. Raina sighed and lowered her gaze to the sheets, leaving four thick braids hanging down Tatiana’s back. Akira watched her closely, amber eyes glittering in their mysterious way. Tatiana knew she would hear Akira’s thoughts on her decision later, along with some little pearl of advice for or against it. With Akira, one never really knew.

“What do you mean, you don’t want it anymore?” Esmeralda asked.

“I thought that this life was what I wanted; the glitter of it blinded me to the truth. I don’t belong here. I never have.”

“Of course you do. Your family is here.”

Tatiana shook her head, tears coming to her eyes as she balled the sheets in her fists. “I don’t mean it that way. Please don’t think that I am pushing you all away. I simply mean that I do not belong here in this world. I thought that I was made for it, even thought that I’d shine like the brightest gem here.”

“You do!” Raina interjected, grasping Tatiana’s hand. “You outshine the women of the court in both beauty and character. You have brought a breath of fresh air to the court, and everyone knows it.”

Tatiana shook her head again, pressing her fingertips to her temples to still the pounding there. “No. I don’t shine … I did, once. That was before I ruined everything by running off with Andrew.”

Esmeralda’s jaw hardened at the mention of Lord Forsyth. “That lecher tricked you and took advantage of your innocence. You did nothing wrong.”

“Yes I did. I didn’t listen to you when you tried to warn me and I created a scandal by running away with him and returning a few months later alone.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of another,” Raina tried again, her hands coming up to Tatiana’s hair again as she retrieved last night’s hairpins from the bedside table, careful to coil and pin the braids around each other loosely.

“The entire court blames me,” she protested. “Can’t you see? Because Andrew is not here to share in my shame, I’ve taken on the full brunt of the scandal; the gossip, the rumors, and now the latest business about slavery in the islands. Do you have any idea what that latest blow has done to my reputation?”

“I’m sure it will blow over—” Esmeralda began.

“Do you want to know what Trenton said to me last night?” Tatiana interrupted, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger. “He called me a common tart whose been passed around by a gaggle of Frenchmen.”

Esmeralda gasped; the corners of Raina’s lips turned white and her hands shook as she clasped them together in her lap. Tatiana swiped at the tears falling from her eyes and told herself that this would be the last time they fell from her eyes. She’d grown weary of the constant agony caused by one man and his malicious schemes. She was tired of trying to keep up appearances in front of a group of people who cared nothing for her. Tatiana decided that she would no longer be fodder for the gossip mill or the object of their pity and scorn.

“That is what they think of me,” Tatiana whispered, her voice gone hoarse. “The women won’t have anything to do with me and the men will treat me the same way as Lord White. They will see me nothing more than a conquest, one that they can all brag to their friends about at their clubs over cards. Jarvis may not always be around to protect me. Who says the next over privileged lord that attacks me will not succeed?”

With a sigh, Esmeralda came to her feet, her large belly disappearing into the folds of her specially made morning gown.

“Are you saying that you wish to return home?”

Tatiana avoided Esmeralda’s gaze and focused on the sprawling lawns and rolling hills of the King’s estate stretching beyond her window. She never thought she would make it inside the palace, only to gaze out over the gates and long to leave it behind.

“Yes.”

Raina gripped her chin and forced Tatiana to meet her gaze. “My dear, there is nothing for you there. You know this.”

“My father will be happy to have me.”

“To clean his house and cook his meals!” Esmeralda scoffed. “You will be treated as a servant and as a trophy for the eligible men in the village. Can you honestly say that you’ve forgotten what you left behind?”

Tatiana shrugged. “I do not intend to marry, and will inform my father of the fact when I return home. I don’t care how high the bride price may be, I will not allow him to accept it.”

“You will accomplish nothing by running away.”

Tatiana forced herself to meet Esmeralda’s accusing gaze. “I am not running away.”

“Yes, you are. Don’t you know how difficult this has been for all of us? We have all had to adjust to our new lives here. Together.”

She didn’t miss the emphasis her cousin placed on the word ‘together’. She sighed.

“Esmeralda, I know that becoming a Queen could not have been easy for you, but it almost seems as if you were born for this. The longer you and Damien are married the better suited to the role you become. The best part is that you have a heart for the people. You are there to remind Damien of what it is like for people who are not wealthy or well connected. You are the perfect Queen.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Any of you. I need you, Tatiana. I need my family here. Yes, I have adjusted well, but that is only because of Damien’s love and the love of my family. The people of the court fawn over me because of what I am. You are the only people that know who I am. I need you here to remind me of that. How could I ever get on without you here to brighten our days with your smiles and your mischief?”

Tatiana’s heart broke at the tear that slid down Esmeralda’s cheek. She knew that much of her emotion was due to pregnancy, but everything she said had struck a chord with her. She had come to the palace happily, thinking only of what a new life would mean for her. Somehow, it had escaped her attention that Esmeralda needed something from her in return. She stood slowly and reached for her cousin. The two embraced, Esmeralda’s head resting on top of Tatiana’s because of her considerable height.

“You don’t have to be a part of it anymore if that’s what you want,” Esmeralda whispered. “Just please … don’t leave. Stay here as long as you want and perhaps in time your feet will find a new path. One that will make you happy beyond your wildest dreams.”

While Tatiana highly doubted it, she did not want to upset her cousin more by saying so. She merely clung to Esmeralda and nodded. “Of course,” she agreed.

After awhile Esmeralda released her and steered her back toward the bed. “Enough of this,” she said with a lighthearted laugh and round of sniffles. “You need rest.”

“So do you,” Tatiana countered, gesturing toward Esmeralda’s belly.

She giggled and shrugged. “Oddly enough, I have found it hard to rest the last few days. I can hardly sit down before I remember something else I need to get done before the birth of the baby.”

“A sure sign that he’s coming any day now,” Raina said with a chuckle as she linked arms with Esmeralda.

“You’ll send for me when it happens?” Tatiana asked.

Esmeralda smiled. “Of course.”

The two exited the room, leaving Akira behind. Tatiana suppressed a sigh as her grandmother stepped away from the window, where she’d been gazing out over the green, and approached the bed. She paused at the foot of the bed, leaning heavily on her wooden cane, her many rings gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the curtains, her turban wound high on her head and hiding her almost knee-length black and gray streaked hair, her voluminous robes hanging around her emaciated frame. Even with her small stature and advanced age, she was intimidating.

“Now that we’re alone, I’m sure you have something that you would like to say.”

Akira was silent, staring at Tatiana with narrowed eyes. She shifted on her feet, gripping her cane tightly as she tilted her head to the side a bit and studied Tatiana closely, as she had been doing since entering the room.

Tatiana frowned. “No? Grandmother, are you all right?”

After awhile, Akira reached into her robes with one gnarled hand and came out clutching her beloved pipe. After a few moments of fumbling with shaking hands, she had it lit and in her mouth, her aromatic smoke curling around her in a blue-grey haze. She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her nostrils, humming low in her chest as she did so.

“Of all my grandchildren, you are the most willful,” Akira said slowly as she clutched her pipe, leaning heavily on her cane. “Your spirit is wild, like that of a true Gypsy. Like the wanderers of our kind, you wish to roam, explore. You value your freedom.”

Tatiana nodded in agreement. There was no use denying it. More than anything, she wanted to be free from everything that bound her.

“You are stronger than you think, my child,” Akira said softly as she turned to leave. “Like the wild rose that blooms in the meadow, you are beautiful and pure. Unlike the fragile hothouse rose, you are resilient and strong. I know that any advice I give you will be scorned or ignored, so I will only say this: you cannot outrun your destiny forever. Someday, you will be forced to face what you have turned your back on. At that time, you will be presented with a choice.”

Tatiana lay back against the pillows and threw her arm over her eyes as Akira reached for the door handle. She knew Akira stood, waiting for her answer. Tatiana spoke from her heart.

“In that matter, Grandmother, I will always choose my freedom.”

Chapter Three

Hawthorne Court, Barony

4 weeks later

Adrian Wilshire sat erect in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, trying not to stare at the man sitting across from him. After all, it wasn’t every day that one was privileged to have royalty in one’s home, and one didn’t get much higher on the social ladder than Serge Largess, ruler of Barony himself.

It was not long ago that Adrian wouldn’t have been fit to do any more than saddle the king’s horse. Really, he still felt that way about himself, but he would be damned if he’d let the other man—or anyone else for that matter—know it. He was one of them now, part of the royal court, and had a title in front of his name. Gone were the days of being made to feel inferior to others because of the situation of his birth.

Besides, King Serge was a perfectly likeable man, made more personable by his easygoing charm and scarred face. Without the thin line running the length of the left side of his otherwise flawless visage, one could not know of the very real nature of a soldier that lay just under the surface. He was not one to be trifled with, and if anything, Adrian admired him for his shortcomings as well as his achievements.

“I understand that congratulations are in order,” Adrian began as soon as Harte, the butler, had poured them both liberal glasses of brandy before leaving them alone with the half-filled crystal decanter. “I hear that your son is healthy and in your very image.”

The king smiled and nodded, the pride of fatherhood brightening his features. “Lionus Serge Hollingsworth Largess is in excellent health, and yes, he does have my rugged good looks.”

The two men chuckled and Adrian could not help but envy the newborn babe. Three weeks old and he already had more advantages than Adrian had had in his entire life. In the past couple of months, things had begun looking up for him, and even then, they did so at a heavy cost.

“That is wonderful news,” Adrian said cordially. “I am certain that you’re anxious to get back to him, so I hope that whatever business you have with me won’t take up too much of your time.”

As if just remembering the reason for his unexpected visit, the king straightened in his high-backed chair. Adrian had received him the library, as it was where he had always felt the most comfortable. He did not have to put on airs in a room full of dusty books.

“Ah yes,” King Serge said as he reached into the inside pocket of his periwinkle blue coat and retrieved a sheath of documents. “There is another matter concerning your estate that needs addressing. There was another piece of property that has just come to our attention. It would seem that you are now the owner of a plantation, Lord Wilshire.”

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up as he accepted the documents from King Serge and broke the seal, unfolding them to reveal the deed for said property.

“Martinique?” Adrian frowned as he scrambled to recall what little he knew of Geography. “Isn’t that an island in the West Indies?”

King Serge nodded. “Indeed. It would seem that your sire’s holdings were as vast and lucrative there as they are here. There is a plantation—Le Grove, I believe it is called—settled on several acres of prime farmland. With it comes the care of over one hundred servants, including farmhands, house servants and indentured laborers. I must warn you, the condition of your servants might be a bit hard to stomach. The African and Indian workers were brought to the island as slaves years before you or I were even born and have only recently been freed. Many of them still suffer under the harsh conditions imposed by their former masters and, apparently, Andrew Forsyth was one of the worst when it came to the treatment of servants.”

Adrian sighed and ran a hand over his tired face, jostling his wire-rimmed spectacles. Here was yet another mess made by his recently discovered half-brother that needed cleaning up.

“I see,” Adrian said as he glanced back down at the papers through his frames. “I suppose a journey to the island is in order, then. I’m sure that there are many affairs that need to be put to rights there.”

Serge nodded. “I thought you might say that, so I took the liberty of booking passage for you on the next available ship leaving Cardenas.”

Adrian’s eyes widened as he looked up from the papers in his hand. “Oh, Your Highness, that is most kind but certainly unnecessary. I could have—”

“Nonsense,” Serge interjected with a wave of his hand. “The journey will not be until four weeks from now, as such a long voyage takes much preparation and there will be others accompanying you on the trip.”

“What others, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I have ordered a contingent of knights to accompany you for your protection. It would seem that your half-brother is still at large. My brother and I have been more than patient in allowing them the opportunity to bring him to justice, as was their right. Martinique is a French occupied island, after all. However, they have lost track of him. He was last seen on the British occupied island, Anguilla, where he sold his ship for a large profit before disappearing completely. There have been reports of sightings in both Anguilla and Martinique and we have reason to believe he comes and goes freely from both ports. Someone is obviously covering for him ... making it easier for him to operate outside of the law.”

“So, these knights that you are sending with me …”

“Are for your protection, yes, but have also been given strict orders to apprehend your brother, who is also known as the criminal Dorian Blake, and bring him to justice. I would prefer him alive, but I won’t have any of your lives risked in the process.”

Adrian cleared his throat and folded the papers before stuffing them into his own pocket. He’d known his half-brother was a wanted criminal, but never realized the king would go to such lengths to bring him to justice. “This is all very overwhelming,” he admitted, removing his glasses and setting them on the small end table between his chair and Serge’s.

The king smiled. “I know. This has all been thrust upon you so suddenly, hasn’t it? One day you are a servant in this house, the next you’re being told that you are now the new lord and master of it. I cannot imagine how much this has changed your life.”

Adrian returned his smile, though the motion left him weary. “In some ways it has been for the better. In others, perhaps not as much. Life was much simpler before.”

“I do not doubt that,” Serge said, compassion in his tone. “Yet I cannot help but feel that you are more than up to the task. No one can understand the plight of a mistreated servant better than one who has served, yes? The people at Le Grove need you, Lord Wilshire. I have taken measures to ensure that you will be safe, and corresponded with the plantation foreman, a Monsieur LeBoueff. He has assured me that he is more than happy to guide you in the day-to-day workings of the plantation. Take heart in knowing that there are people around you who wish to be of service. You mustn’t think yourself alone in this.”

Adrian stood as the king stood and shook the man’s hand before bowing graciously. “I appreciate all that you have done for me, Your Highness. This time in my life has been … interesting, to say the least.”

“Tip of the iceberg, my friend,” he responded with a jovial laugh. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Oh, that reminds me.”

Serge went back into his jacket—the opposite breast pocket this time—and came out with a thick, ivory envelope edged with delicate shimmering gold leaf. His name was inscribed on the envelope in a neat, cursive scrawl. He turned it over and found the seal of the King of Cardenas affixed in burgundy wax.

“An invitation, Your Highness?”

Serge nodded. “Her Majesty, Queen Esmeralda, gave birth just days before my Isabelle. By the time you reach Cardenas, you will have arrived just in time to attend the christening ceremony and ball. All details of the event are in the envelope. Isabelle and I will not be in attendance, but my brother will welcome you with open arms.”

“Your Highness, this is too much, really.”

Serge’s boyish smile appeared again and he clapped Adrian on the shoulder with gusto. “Your humility is quite charming, Lord Wilshire. It is not too much. You are a member of the royal court now. It’s high time you started getting used to your station and the perks that come along with it.”

The king left on that note, meeting Harte in the hallway to retrieve his hat and cane. He watched as the king exited the large, ornate double doors leading to the front steps and immaculate courtyard, before retreating to the library.

“My lord,” Harte called after him, “would you care for lunch?”

“In the library, Harte,” Adrian answered, turning in the doorway to face the man who had served as a father of sorts since he was brought to Hawthorne Manor as a servant. “And how many times must I ask you to cease calling me ‘my lord’?”

Harte forced a grin away from his wrinkled features, but a twinkle gleamed in his eyes. “At least once more, as always, my lord.”

Adrian rolled his eyes and closed the door. Ever since his rise from groom to titled lord, the staff of Hawthorne Court insisted on treating him with the respect befitting his station. The problem was that many of these people were once his friends. Now they treated him as if they feared him. He was no longer one of them and that fact stung more than anything else did. One could argue that his changed fortune was the best thing that could have ever happened to him. From where he’d stood on the outskirts of high society most of his life, he had always been able to see the gloss and polish of the court as the false veneer it truly was.

Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it on the back of the chair behind his desk and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Cornflower blue eyes scanned the bookshelves and he squinted as he remembered his glasses and reached for them. He couldn’t read the titles of the books without them … a flaw he’d come to terms with as a child when it was first discovered that he needed the corrective lenses. Running a hand through bone straight locks of ginger-colored hair, he circled the room until he located the section on agriculture.

By the time Harte returned with a thick stew—one of his favorites and the cook well knew it—and a side of crusty bread, Adrian had settled at his desk with a stack of tomes on the farming of sugar cane and bananas, Le Grove’s most profitable crops according to the information provided with his deed. There were also books on the entire West Indies island chain, and a French phrase book.

Hart left the tray on the desk, giving Adrian just enough room to study while eating. He perched on the edge of the desk, his dark eyebrows drawing over equally dark eyes as he lifted the volume on sugar cane and frowned.

“I did not realize that Barony’s climate was amenable to sugar cane farming,” he said.

Adrian sighed and relieved Harte of the book. “It is not. Seems I’ve come into another piece of land located in the West Indies. I will be travelling there in a few weeks time and have much to learn about sugar cane and bananas other than their taste.”

“Ah,” Harte remarked with a nod as he stood and folded his gloved hands behind his back. He bowed and gave Adrian a little smile. “Hard at work as always. I’ll leave it to you, then. Franny says mind you eat that while it’s hot or there’ll be no desert for you tonight.”

Adrian couldn’t help a chuckle as the undoubtedly stern face of his cook as she gave the butler her instructions appeared in his mind. She knew that his sweet tooth bordered on addiction, and that bribing him with sweets was the best way to ensure that he ate regularly. In all of the commotion since his discovered parentage, Adrian often forgot to eat as he was so busy setting his newly inherited estate to rights. He had lost a bit of weight and knew that Franny was only concerned.

Harte handed him a spoon by its silver handle and smiled. “It’s your favorite.”

He needed no other convincing when it came to Franny’s rich chocolate cake topped with fresh raspberries and dusted with powdery sugar. He pushed his book aside and dug in.

***

After hours of reading, Adrian’s eyes began to water and his limbs screamed in protest from having sat for too long. Deciding that he had learned enough about sugar cane and poisonous island snakes for one day, he stood and left the books where they were, deciding to come back to them in the morning. For now, he craved physical exercise and a break from being ensconced inside of the library.

He left the library just as his mother was descending the curved staircase and floating into the main hall in a swish of her fashionable skirts. Adrian debated ducking back into the room until she had passed and avoiding her altogether, but he could tell by the clouded look in her chocolate brown eyes that she was not in her right state of mind. Now well into her sixties, Martha Wilshire was still a rare jewel of beauty. The delicate features that had earned her the position of Barony’s most sought-after courtesan were only slightly marred by wrinkles and framed by a head full of blond hair streaked with gray.

However, her mind had begun its irreversible decline nearly three years ago and seemed to be worsening by the day. Despite his anger with her for the many trespasses she had committed upon him throughout his life, Adrian had always done what was right by her. That included catering to her every whim and keeping her comfortably seated in the lap of luxury ever since coming into his fortune. As she turned and rested her gaze upon him, Adrian felt his stomach twist at the realization that she did not even recognize him.

“James? James, is that you darling?”

Adrian rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself and hoping that seeing his face would trigger a memory long enough for her to realize that she was not thirty years old and that James—one of her many lovers from long ago—was not him. Disgust gripped him as she flung herself into his arms, pressing her body against his suggestively.

“Oh darling, what do you say to a romp in the drawing room? The maids have already dusted and I’m feeling naughty.”

Adrian grasped her shoulders in an iron grip and placed some distance between them before she could kiss him full on the mouth. Her pouty, red-painted lips turned down into a pout.

“Oh, poo, James! You’ve never been the adventurous type.”

“Mother, it’s me, Adrian,” he reminded her calmly as he searched her face for any flicker of remembrance and finding none. He could always see the mask of forgetfulness when it was upon her, clouding her eyes in a storm-like mist. “I’m your son.”

Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly over tired eyes as she studied him, her lips parted in confusion. “Adrian?” she mumbled, her eyes darting rapidly from side to side as she tried to remember. “Adrian?”

“Yes. Your only son.”

Her eyes lit up and she laughed playfully, slapping him playfully on the arm. “Oh, you silly man! My Adrian is not naught but seven years old, not a strapping, handsome man like you.” She giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand and glancing up at him coquettishly. “Oh but you are a funny one. I can see that you are not my James, but you are quite a handsome thing, aren’t you?”

“Mother, James is dead!” Adrian barked, regretting the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth.

“No!” she cried, flinging herself at him and pounding at his chest with her fists. “No, you’re lying! Why would you say such horrible things? My James loves me and he would never leave me! He’s not dead, do you hear? That bitch—his wife—she put you up to this didn’t she? She wants me to suffer because James loves me and not her!”

Adrian grimaced, stiffening as she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shirt. He patted her shoulder with something akin to, but much less than, affection, silently waiting for her tantrum to abate.

Her cries had alerted the staff to yet another one of Martha’s episodes, and Beth, his mother’s companion, came racing down the stairs. Eyes wide and skirts in hand, Beth promptly stepped forward to take hold of her charge.

“Oh, my lord, I’m so sorry. I turned my back but for a moment and she wandered off! I’ve been looking everywhere.”

Adrian gladly handed Martha over and breathed an inward sigh of relief as Beth folded Martha into her arms.

“It’s quite all right,” Adrian assured her, trying to keep the edge of annoyance from his voice. After all, he paid Beth to act as Martha’s companion to spare himself the burden of caring for her constantly. “Do you have this in hand?”

“Of course!” Beth assured him. “Do go on about your business, my lord, and my apologies.”

Adrian took his leave quickly, Martha’s petulant voice following him up the staircase. “Oh Beth, that mean man said such horrible things. My James can’t be dead, can he?”

“Of course not, Miss Martha,” Beth said in that sweet, whispered tone of hers. “In fact, your James told me that he wishes to see you. He is waiting in your dreams. Perhaps you can lie down for a bit and go to sleep. I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Oh,” Martha said, the tears gone from her voice. “Oh, child, you are so wise. Of course, he is there. I just knew he had to be. Bless you, child. I’ll go and have that nap now.”

“Let me escort you.”

Adrian turned off toward his chambers, effectively blocking off both sight and sound of his mother and Beth. He didn’t know why Beth’s ability to handle his mother so well rankled him, when he had hired her for that very reason. The merchant’s daughter was in need of employment, and while not of high birth, she was polite, well mannered, and perfect for the position. He knew he could not have found anyone better to care for Martha.

Perhaps it was the pity he saw in Beth’s eyes for Martha that bothered him so much. Martha didn’t deserve an ounce of it in his opinion, even if her mind was nearly gone. Perhaps it was what she deserved for the way she’d chosen to live her life. It had affected them both in ways Adrian could hardly bear to think of. He chased the thoughts from his mind as he entered his bedroom and began rifling through his armoire in search of his favored exercise attire.

It wasn’t as if Beth knew anything of his and Martha’s pasts. Perhaps she suspected Martha of having been a courtesan, but that was the extent of her knowledge. He could hardly expect the girl to abhor the sight of Martha as much as he did. She was a compassionate and whole person, not broken and jaded like him.

Before changing, he rang for a servant and requested his horse saddled for a ride into Gladstone. A few hours of blowing off steam at the boxing academy was just what he needed to clear his head.

***

In the days before he came into his fortune, Adrian served as a groom in the stables of the man he would soon learn was his father. Yet, his meager pay as a servant was not nearly enough to fit his ambitions of owning his own home and small plot of land. The dream was miniscule compared to the life he was living now, but at the time, aspirations of owning something larger than the box of a room he lived in and small cot he slept on drove him.

Therefore, he had taken what little funds he had saved and invested in boxing lessons at McArthur’s Pugilism Academy in Gladstone at the age of fifteen.. After years of training under the foremost respected boxing instructor in both Barony and Cardenas, he’d earned his place as one of the most feared prizefighters in the province. They called him ‘The Professor’, because of his spectacles and the fact that he could always be seen with his nose between the pages of a book. Anyone who had been in the ring with him knew that his intelligence was his most deadly weapon and that every move was both precise and well calculated.

It was to McArthur’s he went now, hoping to find a friendly sparring match to ease his anxiety over the impending trip to Martinique. He was relieved to find it full. In the matches he’d participated in his heyday, Adrian found the sport of pugilism to be a ruthless art, one that required strength as well as the ability to take a hit while still remaining on one’s feet. However, in this new world in which he’d recently found himself, pugilism was a gentleman’s pursuit, one indulged in away from the innocent eyes and delicate sensibilities of the women. There were rules, regulations that Adrian was loath to follow, but he understood the need for the use of padded gloves. During his time as a bare-knuckle brawler, he’d often gone about sporting a bruised and swollen face. It was a wonder he could still be considered even slightly attractive after years of such abuse, and he could not help but laugh at the thought of the gentlemen he now associated with gathering at their soirees and opera outings with blackened eyes.

He felt an instant sense of calm washing over him as he entered McArthur’s. Here, he was among men and here there was no frippery or veneer. It was all about the ring, two men scrapping it out in a battle of both strength and wills. There was no hiding in this place, and Adrian had come to find the true measure of many men of the court since coming into his new lifestyle.

One such man had proven his measure on more than one occasion and was the only opponent in the room Adrian considered worthy. He was happy to find him there now, standing among the other gentlemen as two others sparred in the ring.

“Roger,” Adrian greeted him, as he slipped between two others and into an empty space beside him.

“Adrian!” Roger exclaimed, turning to clap Adrian on the shoulder roughly before turning back to the match. “Got ourselves a new member. He is a knight of Barony, but rumor has it that he was once a mercenary who would do anything for a handful of coins. He’s an awfully large beast, I’ll give him that.”

Adrian studied the man in question, his eyebrows shooting up at his massive size. Roger was right; this man was a goliath, at least a head taller than every man in the room and with a chest as wide as a barrel. Dark hair and equally dark eyes gave him a sinister appearance, as did the crescent shaped scar marring his upper lip. He was using brute force against his opponent, a man who nearly matched him in size, but not in strength. The knight’s meaty fists would probably have been lethal without the gloves and the knight’s opponent looked as if he were about ready to throw in the towel. Adrian wondered if this man were one of the knights accompanying him to Martinique. If all of the king’s knights were as ruthless and capable as this man, Adrian knew he would be more than adequately protected.

He turned back to Roger, amused by the expression of pure glee present in his eyes as he roared and pumped his fist in the air, joining the others in their cheers and jeers as the enormous knight knocked his opponent to the mat. The battered man remained on the floor for the required thirty seconds, signaling his forfeit and the giant’s victory. McArthur himself stepped into the ring and patted the knight on his back, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wonderful! Great match, Sir Vincent. I’ve never had a new pupil carry on so well so early in my teachings.”

Sir Vincent turned up the corners of his lips in what Adrian supposed would have been a smile on a less imposing face and inclined his head slightly. “Thank you, Mac,” he said.

“Any other takers? Sir Vincent here is at three wins today and zero losses. Any of you fine gents up for ending the losing streak?”

“Good luck to whoever takes up the challenge. I’m done,” mumbled the most recent victim of the leviathan’s fists as he left the ring, disposing of his gloves and allowing his second to tend to him with water and a drying cloth.

Deciding that he was up for a challenge and was unlikely to get to spar with Roger so long as the beast of a knight was dominating the ring, Adrian stepped forward.

“I will.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Adrian made his way toward the ring, but then again, they always did. Many of them knew him as ‘The Professor’; most had attended his matches at some time or another. They knew what he was capable of. If any among them could take down the giant, it was him.

McArthur’s grin widened when he recognized his star pupil and waved Adrian into the ring. Roger followed to act as his second. Once in the ring, Adrian took his opponent’s measure, carefully studying him as he removed his glasses and handed them to Roger before allowing him to help him into his gloves. He was large and powerful, yes, but in Adrian’s experience, men of Sir Vincent’s size were slow, and The Professor was known for his wiry form and speed. Sir Vincent accepted a few sips of water and a pat down with a towel from his second before moving back to the center of the ring.

“Same rules apply as always,” said McArthur as the two men met in the middle. “No blows below the belt, no wrestling or holding. First man to put his opponent down for thirty seconds is the victor. Do you both agree?”

Adrian met Vincent’s eyes and the two touched gloves in lieu of a handshake.

“Yes,” they both agreed in unison.

As soon as McArthur was out of the way, Vincent came at him full force. Adrian immediately threw his gloves up, taking on the defensive stance consisting of elbows drawn in tight and gloves protecting his face. Much unlike the bare-knuckle brawler’s stance, in which one leaned back and led with his fists, forearms facing out, this stance allowed Adrian to take his opponent’s measure. Before getting his hands up, he took a blow to the chin, one that sent him staggering back a few feet before regaining his balance.

Sir Vincent was definitely as powerful as Adrian had assumed, and then some. His arms flew like cannon fodder, pummeling Adrian’s ribs and abdomen with uncontrolled brute force. Adrian forced himself to breathe through each blow, focusing through the pain as he counted the seconds between jabs. It was this sort of approach that had earned him the reputation of a cold, calculated fighter.

With a smirk, Adrian discovered his opponent’s rhythm and then counteracted it with his own dance, weaving in and out to dodge the blows while throwing some of his own. He threw fewer punches than Vincent, thereby making him capable of putting more strength behind a single blow. The sounds of the crowd swelled and grew, rising into a cacophony of deafening roars. Adrian tuned them out, focusing on his opponent, who was rapidly growing slow and sluggish.

Within minutes, Adrian was ready to deal his final blow and did so with a powerful uppercut to the chin. His glove struck the knight’s jaw with such force that his massive body was sent flying head over heels across the ring. With a heavy ‘thud’, the knight was felled, sent sprawling facedown onto the mat, a result that left many shocked and others appeased after having watched Sir Vincent pulverize every other man in the ring.

Adrian turned his back to accept a sip of water from Roger, not even bothering to worry about his opponent. The giant was down and was sure to stay down for the required thirty seconds.

Adrian stared down at the mat below his feet, his chest swelling with the force of nostalgia. Moments like this reminded him of a simpler time, a time when he had been nothing more than the son of a courtesan, a pugilist with a quiet life ahead of him after retirement. Now, everything had changed and he was a lord, a peer of the royal court, a showpiece, fashion plate and fodder for the gossip mills. It was in moments like this that Adrian was finally able to feel like himself. It was in moments like this that Adrian could lose all of that and just be a man. He held onto the feeling as long as he could.

Chapter Four

“Honestly, Adrian, why don’t just hire yourself a nursemaid? Or shall I wear an apron so that you may hold on to my strings as I lead you about Cardenas?”

Adrian glared at Roger over his meal of roasted lamb. He speared a turnip murderously and frowned. Cozily ensconced in the smaller dining room of Roger’s townhouse in Cardenas, he had been enjoying his meal until Roger’s tactless dig. After the long journey from Barony, he had been looking forward to a quiet evening, but his friend now had him on edge.

“Unlike you, I haven’t been a pampered fop my entire life. Who better to guide me about these shark-infested waters than you?”

Roger took a long sip from his wine glass and grinned. “Ah, Adrian, I always marvel at your ability to gaze down that crooked nose of yours at the rest of us. Imagine, a stable boy, scoffing at the upper classes.”

Adrian’s fingers tightened around his fork. “My nose is not crooked, though it has been broken twice. The physician was quite adept at setting it right. And I was not a stable boy, I was a groom.”

“Either way, you spent too much time near the wrong end of a horse for my liking. What have you to complain of, my friend? The son of a prostitute—”

“Courtesan.”

“Fine, courtesan. The son of a courtesan, quite a notorious one I might add and a stable boy becomes a wealthy and titled member of the upper class overnight. My boy, no fairytale could be more fantastic than the one you are living now. You have an infinite amount of income at your disposal, ballrooms full of women who are quivering in their bloomers when you walk by, and access to the most exclusive gentlemen’s clubs and parties in both Cardenas and Barony. In a few weeks’ time you will be sailing to an exotic land to claim yet another piece of property that could prove to be quite profitable. You should be celebrating, not drowning your sorrows.”

Adrian dropped his fork beside his plate and stood, his face gone red with indignation. “You think this is a fairytale? You think this is a dream? Perhaps you are right, Roger, I should be grateful to the fates for changing my life so drastically. Perhaps I should also thank them for the inheritance of my half brother’s scandal and tarnished name. Or I could thank them for making me part of a world to which I do not belong, one in which I am constantly stared at and gossiped about. Yes, I do believe you are right, I am ever so grateful for the ruination of my plans for a quiet and solitary life after retiring from boxing. Now I shall have to take on some pasty, chubby, milk-faced maiden to be my bride and sire upon her child after child in an attempt at producing an heir, thereby placing the same burden upon that poor unborn babe’s head. Did I mention that my bastard of a brother is wanted by both the French government and our king and his brother? Did you not know that I am now also responsible for the fate of a half-sister I knew nothing about until a few weeks ago, or that there are hundreds of mistreated former slaves on that Godforsaken island with a grudge against my family for the way they’ve been mistreated. Oh yes, Roger, it’s all just so perfect. Thank the heavens for this lovely twist of fate!”

He punctuated his tirade by draining what was left of his wine and slamming the goblet down on the table.

“Your world is a cage,” he said, his voice low and his eyes on the floor. “Gilded it may be, but it is a cage nonetheless. Your royal court are slaves to their indulgences and their falsehoods. Their lives are a lie, and now mine is as well. How any of you can stand this without the overwhelming need to wrap your mouths around the barrel of a pistol is beyond me.”

Roger sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “You are right. This world is a cage,” he said, his voice just as low and strained as Adrian’s. “Do you think I asked for this fate any more than you did? But you know what? I pride myself on the good I have done with my money and my time. I am one of the most influential voices on Barony’s High Council, as well as a generous contributor to Queen Isabelle’s orphan fund. I worked my fingers to the bone helping to rebuild after the war, just like you did … just like any other citizen, and I am damn proud of that fact. Our world might be a cage, Adrian, but the way to keep yourself from giving into that impulse and shoving that gun down your throat is to find a way to leave some sort of mark upon this world. You have a chance to do something, to be something! Don’t waste it by being a damned whining baby and sulking in your anger. Your brother was a bastard and a fiend, but you have a chance to fix this legacy thrown onto your shoulders. What will you choose to do with it?”

Adrian stood there gaping for long moments after that. Never had he heard Roger speak so passionately about anything other than gambling, women, or drink. It reminded him of why he had accepted Roger into his small, tight circle of friends. There was more to him than his dandified clothing or his indulgences. He was a man after Adrian’s own heart and now he felt like a bastard for the things he had said.

He cleared his throat and adjusted the hem of his evening coat. “You are quite right. Here I’ve been feeling sorry for myself and forgetting that you never asked for this life either. My apologies.”

Roger shrugged. “What do you want, a kiss? Get out of here.”

Adrian chuckled. “I think I’ll go for a ride to clear my head. Do you have any plans for the evening?”

Roger thought for a moment, and then his eyes brightened. “You know, I think I’ll take that ride with you. In fact, I’ve heard of a gathering of sorts, one I think you will quite enjoy.”

Adrian groaned. “Dear God, no, Roger. I do not want to spend my first night in Cardenas twirling some lord’s nineteen year old, whey-faced daughter across a dance floor while listening to his wife blather about invitations, decorations and other such foolishness.”

Roger rose and smiled. “My friend, you are going to need to change your clothing as well as your expectations. Where we’re going…well, let’s just say it’s not that kind of party.”

***

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Tatiana paused in the foyer of the palace, cringing inwardly as the cold, hard voice of the former queen, Alexandra, called out to her across the echoing vestibule. She had just barely made her escape unseen and hadn’t anticipated being caught by the last person she would have wanted to spot her. With a heavy sigh she turned, crossing her arms and the shawl wrapped around them over her thin blouse. The action was hardly enough to cover her colorful, ruffled skirt and the fact that she was dripping in the type of jewelry the queen would undoubtedly see as ‘gaudy’. She was definitely not dressed for a ball, and Alexandra was sure to disapprove. Why it bothered her so much, Tatiana wasn’t quite sure. She only knew the woman’s blue eyes were like glaciers as she descended upon her, jewels sparkling at her ears and throat, feathers rising high from her voluminous coiffure.

Tatiana drew her shoulders back and held her head high. “To a gathering of my people, Your Highness,” she answered. There was no hiding it from the people within these walls. Everyone in the family had long learned that the current queen and her relatives were Gypsies. Damien had been able to hide it from most of them for a while, but in time, the truth became evident. Fortunately, the servants within the palace were loyal to the king and loved their queen. They exercised stalwart discretion. No one of the court had any idea, and most still assumed Esmeralda was an exotic princess from some faraway land. No one dared question those rumors.

Since dropping out of the public eye weeks ago, she came and went from the palace as she pleased, happier now than she had been in months. In the village the Gypsies inhabited, she had nothing to fear. No one knew of her scandal and everyone accepted her as the girl she had always been despite the fact that she now lived in the palace. Among her people she felt as if she truly belonged, and had no intention of returning to a life of luxury and lies.

Alexandra circled her slowly, taking in her peasant attire and unbound hair with distaste. “It is a shame, really,” she said with a sigh. “You had so much potential.”

No sure if she should take this as an insult or compliment, Tatiana remained silent under the queen mother’s scrutiny.

“You really are quite beautiful, in an exotic sort of way. Not like the other women of the court, but then that could have worked to your advantage. I could have made you the jewel of the court if only you had come to me, asked me to take you under my wing. That scandal did not have to ruin you.”

Tatiana felt the edge of annoyance seeping into her voice. “I am not ruined,” she said, her mouth going tight at the corners. “I am quite fine, thank you.”

“No, darling, you are a mess. You are lost, and you do not belong here.”

“I didn’t ask to be here.”

“Of course you did,” Alexandra admonished with a condescending chuckle. “I remember when I first saw you here, in your new home. Your innocent eyes were so full of dreams. You wanted this life.”

Tatiana shrugged. “I have come to find that your way of life is not as wonderful as I once thought.”

Alexandra gave her a rare smile, and Tatiana found that she looked a bit sad when she did so. “It is not, I’ll give you that. Oh, but my dear, it is so much better to be at the top of the food chain than at the bottom. You should remember that should you ever find a need for my advice. I could make you the belle of the ball. With my help, you could be married to the wealthiest, highest ranking man in all of Cardenas … behind my son, of course. Your scandal need not end your reign as the social butterfly you once were.”

Tatiana thought over Alexandra’s offer for less than a second. There was no going back, she decided. She was happy now, and intended to remain that way.

“You are generous to offer,” she said as she turned back toward the open door before her. Beyond lay the front steps and courtyard, and further out the sloping green lawns of Largess Hall. In the distance, freedom called to her and she answered by stepping over the threshold. “But I think I will take my chances with the world in which I belong.”

Alexandra did not try to stop her and Tatiana was grateful. She no more wanted to have a conversation about the wide-eyed girl she’d been when coming to the palace than she wanted to endure the poking and prodding of a dentist. The doors slammed shut behind her and she quickened her pace, her thin slippers slapping over the cobblestones as she neared the stable. There, Desmond was waiting for her near a waiting carriage. He had agreed to escort her to the Gypsy gathering on the outskirts of the city that night. Of course, he was not attending with her, as he once would have. Lady Abigail and the lavish dinner party being thrown in honor of her eighteenth birthday took precedence over all else.

She had to admit that Desmond looked rather handsome, his white linen perfectly starched and practically glowing in the moonlight, his deep red waistcoat the perfect complement to his swarthy skin and the matching cravat. He stood near their waiting carriage, stroking the nose of one of the black bays standing patiently in wait for their passengers.

Desmond rolled his eyes as she came into view. “You couldn’t wait for me to have the carriage brought around?”

Tatiana shrugged as she joined him near the carriage’s open doors. “I felt like walking. Besides, if I spent another minute within those walls, I might have lost my mind. It’s such a beautiful night and I intend to enjoy it.”

With a shake of his head, Desmond offered her his hand. “By all means, then, let us be on our way. Do you want me to come for you after my dinner party?”

Tatiana allowed Desmond to hand her up into the carriage. “No,” she answered as he lifted himself in after her. “I’ll be spending the night.”

Desmond well knew that Gypsy celebrations could often last late into the night and the next morning, with many of the guests camping out under the stars when the hour grew late. She hadn’t done it in so long; she couldn’t wait to indulge this evening.

They rode together in silence and Tatiana knew that it was because they had long run out of things to say to each other. Desmond hadn’t taken her shunning of society very well and had tried numerous times to talk her out of it. He just could not understand why she would want to give up the glamorous life at court. He could never understand, Tatiana knew, at least not until Lady Abigail broke his heart, which was a strong certainty. There were whispers among the women of the court about the lady’s promiscuous behavior, even at such a young age. Her faithfulness to Desmond would not last. Tatiana was sad to have to sit back and watch it happen, but Desmond would not listen when she tried to warn him.

Much like Esmeralda tried to warn me about Andrew, she thought as their carriage came to a stop near the Gypsy campground. Pushing those melancholy thoughts from her head, she pressed her face to the glass and smiled as she eyed the circle of colorful wagons and tents, her heart pounding with anticipation. Even through the closed carriage doors, she could hear the thrum of Gypsy music. It called to her hypnotically, and she found herself itching to dance.

Where she had once looked forward to the end of her days as a dancer at her family-owned tavern, she now missed those times. She and Esmeralda had danced every night alongside another cousin—who was now dead after killing Esmeralda’s first husband and then herself in a jealous rage. Tatiana felt tears pooling in her eyes at the thought of Morgana’s senseless suicide. Her love for her own cousin’s husband had driven her mad, and there would always be a hole in her heart for the loss. A night like this would have excited Morgana as much as it excited her, and now that Esmeralda was queen, she had no one to share it with.

No matter, she decided as she alighted from the carriage without waiting for the footman to open the door.

“I’ll come for you in the morning,” Desmond promised just before she dashed off toward the wagons. She didn’t bother to respond; the sounds, sights and smells of the celebration called to her.

The spicy scent of cinnamon and nutmeg mingled with curry and the aroma of roasting meats and sweet incense. Flutes, drums and guitar played up and down her spine, drawing her in to the massive fire adding to the stifling summer heat. Tatiana dropped her shawl from around her shoulders and let it hang from her arms, baring her shoulders to the summer evening air.

She was immediately greeted by friends, who pulled her toward one of the low wooden tables where the women had gathered to finish preparing the food. She happily joined them in peeling and coring apples, which would be stuffed with spices and coated in sugar before roasting over the fire. She met the yellow gold eyes of her grandmother across the table and wondered how the old woman had made her way to the party alone. Akira was mysterious in all of her ways and Tatiana didn’t puzzle over it for long. She should have known the old Gypsy fortuneteller wouldn’t have missed a party like this. Like Tatiana, she was reluctant to let go of all their Gypsy ways just because Esmeralda had been crowned queen of Cardenas.

“I am happy to see you here, granddaughter,” Akira said as she placed a peeled, cored, and stuffed apple onto a large pewter plate with several others.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” she replied with a smile. “It’s going to be a wonderful time, I just know it!”

Akira smiled, that mysterious gleam in her eyes sending a chill down Tatiana’s spine. “Yes, it will be,” she said softly. “Destiny calls for you tonight. You would be smart to heed its invitation.”

***

“Who invited the gadje?” muttered the dark-haired man sitting on the opposite side of the fire.

“He is a friend of Roger,” his companion answered.

A grunt. “Also a gadje.”

“Be careful how you speak. He is a friend to the Romani and is always welcome here, as are his friends.”

Adrian’s eyes widened as he turned away from the two men whose conversation he just happened to have overheard. Roger seemed oblivious to the men as he sipped spiced wine from a large pewter mug. His eyes followed the movement of the women who had gathered near the musicians for a dance.

“Roger, what in God’s name is a gadje, and why do I feel as if that man would rather hang me than shake my hand?”

Roger turned and studied the men Adrian indicated and then brushed them off with a shrug of his shoulders.

“These Gypsies are not like those who have settled here in Cardenas’ villages. They are wanderers, and are true to the Romani way. They do not take kindly to outsiders. Gadje is a term used for those are not Romani.”

Adrian frowned and took a sip from his own wine, deciding that the Gypsies could make a fortune if they bottled and sold the stuff. “If they do not appreciate outsiders, why are you accepted here?”

“These Gypsies have passed through Barony several times. That man there was set upon by the rebels before we drove them out at the end of the war. I happened upon him as he was being attacked on the road and stopped my carriage to aid him. Because of the danger in Barony at the time, my driver and footman were both armed. We dispatched them and saved that man’s life. Whenever we are in the same city—and God knows how he always knows I am near—he invites me to their celebrations. Once you are a friend of the Romani, you are always a friend unless you betray their trust.”

Adrian considered Roger’s words as he accepted a plate piled high with food from an old, smiling Gypsy woman. Even during his days as a servant and prizefighter, he hadn’t known much about the Gypsies. Their reputation for swindling and thievery had been foremost in his mind when Roger had told him where they were going, but it seemed as if most people were wrong about the Gypsies. He saw nothing but happy, smiling families, who seemed to love each other and life. The food was overflowing, as well as the wine, and the smiles were abundant. Aside from the one man who questioned their presence, everyone else had been kind.

And the women.

God in heaven, the Romani women were some of the most beautiful he had ever seen. He would take bronzed skin and raven hair over the pale, insipid daughters of his royal court counterparts any day. Unlike the women of the court, who covered themselves from head to toe and pretended modesty while seeking to sink their claws into the richest man they could find, these women were neither wily nor cunning in their dress or demeanor. Despite the revealing nature of their attire—he spotted plenty of shoulders, ankles and even a few bare midriffs—there was nothing coy or purposely seductive about them. Not a coquettish look could be found among them. They simply ate, danced, conversed and enjoyed themselves together without any of the practiced politeness or guile used by the women of his acquaintance. He found it quite refreshing.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Roger commented as he followed Adrian’s gaze.

Adrian swallowed past the lump in this throat as one particular woman caught his eye. He sat up a bit straighter from his seat beside the campfire, his eyes going wide at the vision before him.

“My friend, beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe that.”

The word he searched for went miles beyond ‘beauty’, but Adrian, a man who was usually good with words, found himself unable to choose just one. She bloomed from the center of the dancers like a wildflower, her colorful, ruffled skirts fanned out around her shapely legs like sun-kissed petals. Only, instead of sunlight, this flower was bathed in firelight, and Adrian had never seen anything more breathtaking in his life.

Bountiful curves tantalized from beneath the skirt and white, ruffled, shoulder baring blouse she wore and her bronzed skin glistened with the soft sheen of sweat. It dotted her chest and neck, plastering her hair to her forehead in a way that caused him to wish he were just one of the tiny droplets—perhaps the one sliding its way down the top of one beautiful breast. Gold jewelry twinkled at her neck and wrists and Adrian counted at least four piercings in each ear, as well as one tiny gold stud in one nostril. Many people in exalted circles shunned women with pierced ears as harlots and whores, and looked down upon the Gypsy women for ‘mutilating’ their bodies in such a way. Adrian found it mesmerizing.

And her hair.

It was a straight, shining, perfectly black curtain hanging down her back to her hips in a stunning display. In the light of the fire and moon it glowed with an almost bluish tint, it was so dark.

More than anything, he was mesmerized by her dance. The hypnotic sway and dip of her hips sent all the moisture from his mouth and as she raised her arms and rolled her stomach in a way that sent her hips in wild circles, Adrian felt a hot rush of blood to his most primal of body parts. Though he was never a dancer—not even in a ballroom—he longed to join her, to press his body to hers and move his hips in time with hers in the most ancient of dances, to run his hands up from her waist over those ribs and up toward her …

Christ, he wasn’t thinking about dancing anymore, at least not the kind that could be considered decent in public.

“Down boy,” Roger warned with a chuckle as he polished off the last of his meal. “The Romani are very protective of their women. We are welcomed here, but they aren’t going to serve their women up to us on a silver platter.”

Adrian shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, trying to turn his attention back to the delicious spread on his plate. Roger was right. He would do well to keep his eyes on his plate and off the beautiful girl. Her father or brothers were probably nearby and he didn’t want to give them any reason to cast Roger from their midst. He seemed to have a good thing going here, a place to find reprieve from the demands of court life. Adrian envied him.

***

An hour passed and Adrian found it harder to keep his eyes off the mysterious Gypsy girl than he had thought. It seemed that every time he gazed up, she was within his line of vision, dancing, eating, and laughing. She was oblivious to him, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering who she was and what had painted such a beautiful smile on her face. As hot as it was with the stifling summer swelter clogging the dark air, Adrian found himself growing even hotter. He jerked at the collar of his shirt, which he’d already opened down to the third button, but he found no relief. He was burning up from the inside.

Roger stood a few feet away, a lit cigar between his teeth as he talked with the friend whose life he’d saved. He had left Adrian to his own devices once it became clear that his friend was content to sit, eat, and watch his Gypsy vixen. He perked up a bit as he saw her disappearing through the crowd, glancing over her shoulder, seeming to wonder if she were being watched or followed. Her feet moved more swiftly as she escaped the crowd and hung on the outskirts, searching for a path through the trees. When she found it, she disappeared from sight, swallowed up by the forest.

Adrian was struck with the sudden need to follow her, to see where she was going and ask if she would take him with her. He stood to his feet, rooted to the spot, yet wanting to run after her. He should. The woods were no place for a woman to stroll alone at night and someone should watch out for her. His left foot moved, and then his right. His eyes remained locked on the place where she disappeared.

“She beckons to you, doesn’t she?”

The voice at his shoulder froze him in his tracks, its melodic, feminine tone laced with the rasp of old age. He turned to find a tiny, gnarled old Gypsy woman. She came to stand beside him, the top of her head barely coming up to his shoulder, even with the tall black turban she wore on her head. She seemed to float across the ground in her voluminous black robes, and the jewels at her fingers and in the crown of her turban winked in the moonlight. Her bronzed skin was leathery and wrinkled, her amber eyes glowing in the night like those of a jungle cat. She sported the same pierced ears and nose as the young girl he longed to follow.

Adrian cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the deep scrutiny he found in the old woman’s eyes. “I am not sure I know what you mean,” he answered vaguely.

The old woman smiled up at him. “This night … a night of destiny … you must trust your instincts.”

Adrian followed her gaze toward the woods. “My instincts tell me that if I don’t follow that girl into the woods I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.” Adrian frowned and lowered his eyes to his feet, unsure of what had loosened his tongue to the Gypsy woman. How was it that the gleam of wisdom in her eyes had him wanting to tell her all of his deepest fears and secrets?

The old woman’s smile widened. “Unlike the hothouse rose, the wild Gypsy rose is riddled with thorns. Few men are brave enough to take one in their grasp.”

Her words were laced with warning, but all they did was further make Adrian want to go plunging into the woods.

“I am not afraid of pain,” he admitted with a shrug.

The Gypsy woman nodded. “Yes, Lord Wilshire. I know that you have endured much pain in your life. Your mother … your father …. your brother.”

Adrian flinched. “How do you know of such things? Have we met before?”

“No, but we will meet again after this night and several times again in your lifetime.”

“You are a fortuneteller.”

He couldn’t help the wariness that crept into his tone. Her laugh rang out, rough, raw and contagious. Adrian smiled.

“I have taken coin in exchange for reading a palm or two,” she said. “But do not mistake me for a con-woman or a conjurer of tricks and do not act foolishly by turning your back on your destiny. Follow that path, there. Follow that girl. Destiny awaits.”

Adrian turned to answer, but the old woman was gone, out of sight. He hadn’t even heard her footsteps.

He stood there for several minutes after she was gone, staring at the gap between the trees, a path that he knew lead down to a pool of water and a waterfall. They weren’t far from the piece of land and cottage he’d purchased in Cardenas, a property he hadn’t visited since first buying it in hopes of living there after his days of fighting were over. Leaving Barony had seemed like a grand idea at the time; leaving behind the shadows of his past. Something within him wanted to whisk her away there, close the doors and never let her out again.

Adrian was aware of the fact that what his mind was telling him to do was foolish, that there was no way the old Gypsy could know anything about his so-called destiny. But then, he knew that if he turned his back on this moment, he would never forgive himself. Curiosity and need gnawed at him, moving his feet once again and propelling him down the path. As he disappeared behind the trees, he quickened his pace, his heart speeding up with every step.

As the trees thinned out to reveal the pool of water nestled at the forest’s center, the rushing sound of a waterfall met his ears. As he neared the pool, the trees closed off once again, giving the tiny glen a feeling of privacy and seclusion. The water was so clear, one could practically see through to the rocky bottom thanks to the high, full moon and cloudless night.

However, it was the vision at the pool’s edge, bathed in moonlight, which had Adrian’s attention.

There was his Gypsy vixen, kneeling near the water’s edge, her blouse resting on the ground beside her as she leaned over the water, bathing her neck and chest with the cool water. Despite the covering of her chemise, Adrian’s body reacted to her near nakedness. Even though her back was turned to him, his mind’s eye created a picture of that water sluicing down between her breasts and he nearly groaned aloud at the thought. She leaned forward and dipped her hair into the water before flipping it back down over her shoulders again, the straight curtain now a mass of damp curls dripping water to the ground as she stood.

He knew his presence could frighten her if she turned to find him watching her like an idiot, but he could not seem to stop staring. At the very least, he should make a sound so that she knew he was there. He was surprised to see her smile as she turned and their eyes met. The smile was genuine and friendly and it drew Adrian in. He took the final few steps that separated them, slowly, and came to rest inches away from her. Her head barely came up to his chest, the advantage of his height affording him the perfect view of her ripe cleavage. If not for the thick curtain of her wet hair now hanging over her shoulders, he would be able to see straight through her damp chemise.

This close, he could perfectly make out her facial features, and knew then that he had never seen such beauty in his life, and was unlikely to ever again.

Her eyes were so dark and fathomless they were nearly black, framed by impossibly long, dark lashes. A light dusting of freckles dotted her nose and cheekbones and Adrian found them endearing; he longed to trace the contours of her pert little nose and count them. Her mouth was full, lush, and pink as rose petals. The upper lip was slightly plumper than the lower, teasing him in a seductive pout that was neither strived for, nor exaggerated.

She was youth, innocence, freshness … all of the things Adrian could have wished for in a woman…all of the things he had yet to find in any of them.

His tongue finally came unglued from the roof of his mouth when she greeted him.

“Hello.” Her voice was like music.

“Good evening,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably and adjusting his spectacles. She giggled at his display of nervousness, her cheeks dimpling and her nose crinkling adorably.

“Have we met before?” she asked, her large eyes boring into his with silent question.

He smiled; he just couldn’t seem to help it in her presence. “No. I feel certain I could not have forgotten if we had.”

She nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I couldn’t have forgotten you either. Yet I feel … I feel …” she trailed off and Adrian stepped forward again, so close now that he could see the dark pupils of her eyes, a shade blacker than the irises.

“Do you believe in destiny?” he blurted without thinking. He knew he sounded ridiculous, but he just couldn’t stop. Like the old Gypsy woman, this girl made him want to tell her everything about him, including those things he otherwise wished to keep to himself. It was disconcerting to say the least.

She smiled again, her eyelids lowering a bit over her eyes. “You’ve met my grandmother, I see.”

“The woman in the black robes is your grandmother?”

She nodded again and laughed. “Yes, she is. She speaks much of destiny and purpose and she is almost always right.”

“She told me to follow you.”

She reached out and grabbed his hand and the touch sent tingles running the length of his body.

“I’m glad you did.”

***

Chapter Five

If someone had asked Tatiana at that moment what she could possibly be thinking, she wouldn’t have had an answer for them. She had no earthly idea what she was doing, what she was thinking, or what the consequences of her actions would be. She just knew there was something about this man that beckoned to her, called for closer inspection. As she tugged him toward the pool by his hand, she looked him over and decided that she very much liked what she saw.

“Will you sit with me awhile?” she invited, sinking to her knees on the soft, fragrant grass.

He obeyed without question, folding his endlessly long legs beneath him and joined her. Besides being tall, he was quite thin, but wiry, and through the open gap of his shirt, she could see the ripple of definition across his chest and longed to touch him there. She refrained by folding her hands in her lap, knowing that it would be inappropriate.

Silky blond hair hung in his eyes and down to the nape of his neck, appearing so soft and smooth that she knew running her fingers through it would feel much like lying on silk sheets. From behind the too-long strands falling into his eyes, piercing blue eyes met hers, their sky blue color fading at the center to an ashen gray. Those eyes were like a stormy sky, framed by eyelashes a bit darker than his hair.

His facial features were strong, but refined, his straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw and firm chin unflawed save for the slight bump at the bridge of his nose—a scar that told her it had been broken once and then fixed. It was mostly hidden by the frames of his spectacles, the gold rims of which only partially obscured his eyes. She liked them, she decided. He appeared the bookish sort, and she just knew that he was of high intelligence. It wasn’t just the glasses, either. Something in his eyes spoke of experience and knowledge that Tatiana could only hope to possess.

“What is your name?” he asked. That piercing gaze of his seemed to strip her down to her very bones.

“Tatiana,” she answered.

“Tatiana,” he said slowly, seemingly tasting the name, savoring it. He smiled as if he had tasted something sweet. “It’s a beautiful name. I am Adrian.”

“Adrian.” She paused, loving the way the name felt on her tongue. “Are you from Cardenas, Adrian?”

“No. I am originally of Barony. I am here for a short visit before I am to set sail for a long journey.”

Tatiana’s curiosity piqued at the mention of sailing. “Are you a sailor?” she asked.

Adrian laughed and shook his head. “Not really. It will be my first journey across the sea.”

“Oh, I so love the sea!”

“Have you ever sailed?”

Her shoulders slumped as she remembered Andrew’s broken promises. He had told her of his ship and promised to take her around the world. Like a fool, she’d believed him and dreamt of standing at the bow of the ship, her husband’s strong arms around her and the salty spray of the sea on her face. She felt tears coming to her eyes as she remembered.

“No,” she said, her voice strained with her tears. “I once thought I would, but it was not meant to be.”

Adrian’s brow creased in concern and she lowered her stare away from his, ashamed to be the object of his pity.

“Please don’t cry,” he said gently as his hand found her chin. He gently lifted her face until their eyes met again. “I do not like the look of tears in those beautiful eyes.”

She forced a smile. “I’m sorry. Old memories that are best left in the past, I’m afraid. It’s absurd, really.”

“Of course it’s not,” he chided, swiping at the tears beneath her eyes with his thumbs. “Any man who would hurt you is an imbecile.”

Tatiana couldn’t help a dry laugh. “How did you know it was a man?”

Adrian shrugged. “Instinct. Although, I cannot imagine any man in his right mind wanting to put tears in your eyes. He must be mad.”

When Tatiana laughed again, Adrian chuckled.

“I suppose I shouldn’t say such things when we have only just met. I apologize.”

Tatiana covered his hand with hers. “Oh, no, please don’t apologize. I feel as if I’ve known you before, maybe in some past life if such a thing is possible. You can speak honestly to me.”

He smiled again and Tatiana found the sight truly magnetic. “You are quite refreshing, Tatiana. Not at all like the women of my acquaintance.”

Tatiana thought of the life she had once lived. “I have known many women who act as if they are something they are not. I find it is so much more liberating to just be oneself.”

“If only more women thought this way. But then, you would not be so special and I’d like to think of you as being something rare and undiscovered.”

“You are too kind. You flatter me.”

“I do not seek to flatter you. You asked me to speak frankly and I am doing so. You …” he paused and swallowed noisily “… I feel as if I’ve searched for something without knowing it for so long, and here I find you in the most unlikely of places.”

Tatiana’s breath lodged in her chest and her heart expanded to near bursting. She had heard such words before, sliding from a silver tongue to trick her into a false marriage. Yet she just knew that Adrian spoke the truth. She did not know how, but her soul told her that she could trust this man, that he truly did feel the things he was saying.

“I feel the same way,” she admitted, her head spinning dizzily as her stomach churned nervously. Somehow, she knew that what would happen next could change the course of her life forever.

“I’ve never been one to act impulsively,” he said, “but I find myself wanting …”

He paused, but Tatiana already knew what he meant to say. She felt it too. “I know,” she assured him, taking both his large hands in hers. “I want, too.”

“This is madness,” he said, as if he could hardly believe what was happening. Tatiana couldn’t believe it either, but everything in her was screaming for him, wanting his touch, his kiss. It was unfathomable, but if Akira had told him to seek her out, it could mean only one thing.

This moment was supposed to happen.

Tatiana would be a fool to let it pass her by.

“No,” she countered, as she melted into his embrace, “it makes perfect sense.”

When their lips met for the first time, Tatiana felt as if she touched heaven. Even the chaste brush of her their closed mouths against each other sent blood rushing hotly through her veins. With a groan, he tangled his fingers in her hair and deepened their kiss, sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips. She parted them with a sigh and allowed him entrance, exalting in the velvet slide of his tongue against hers and the heady taste of him mixed with spiced wine and apples. He ravished her mouth completely, gently at first, then with growing ferocity as the drum beat of her pulse became a rapid and uncontrolled staccato.

She pulled back just long enough to reach for his glasses, deciding that she wanted no barriers between them. As it was now, her clothing felt too tight, too restricting, and she wanted nothing more than to shed them and sink onto the grass with him.

Pulling her to him again, Adrian mashed their bodies together from chest to thigh, a smile creasing his features as her eyes widened in response to the hard length of him pressed insistently against her lower belly. His hands lowered to the swell of her hips, and he ground against her in intimation of her most private thoughts as if they were his own as he kissed her again, urgently.

When they pulled apart, they were breathless, clinging to each other. Adrian stared at her with eyes filled with urgency and want. Doubt pulled at the corners of her mind, screaming that her heart was guiding her to act imprudently. Yet, she could not ignore the touch of magic and destiny about this night. Despite her doubts, she knew that walking away from him now would fill her with regret.

She had not forgotten her promise to herself after Andrew had broken her heart. No other man would shackle her with marriage, and no other man would be in a position to hurt her again. She just couldn’t allow it.

But Adrian would never hurt you.

The voice that intruded was not her own and had the distinct ring of her grandmother’s tone behind it. Despite her mind telling her that falling in love would be an incredibly stupid thing to do, her heart just wouldn’t stop pulling her toward him. It filled her with hope that she’d once thought lost to her. She wasn’t sure yet if she even wanted to hope. She had thought herself dead to it.

“A penny for your thoughts,” his deep voice said as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. Tatiana forgot all rational thought as the scents of male, aftershave and nature enveloped her. She closed her eyes as his lips found the side of her neck.

“I was just thinking that I am not ready for this night to end.”

Adrian accepted his spectacles from her and slid them back over his eyes with a smile.

“It doesn’t have to. There is a place we can go not far from here. A cottage that I saved for years to purchase. I wanted a place of my own, one away from prying eyes. It has stood unused for quite some time, but there are beds, warm blankets and wood for fires. I would love to take you there.”

“It sounds like heaven. Lead the way, Adrian.”

Threading his fingers through hers, he led her back down the path. Instead of leading her back to the Gypsy camp, which still boomed and vibrated with the sounds of celebration, he turned her down a fork in the road, past a sign that read Oakley Lane.

“It’s just down this path,” he said as they walked.

She was content to follow him in silence and bask in the glow of the evening. After they had walked for a few minutes, Adrian pointed out a house at the end of the lane, all of its windows darkened. Even in the dark of night, Tatiana could smell the perfume of lilies, coral bells, black-eyed susans, and iris coming from the untended flowerbeds circling the dwelling. It was small and the walkway was a bit overgrown, but Tatiana loved it on sight.

“Oh, it’s so charming!” she said as Adrian released her hand to move ahead of her, clearing the path of brush and branches as they made their way to the door.

“I have not spent as much time here as I would have wanted, but I think now I’ve found a reason to make a better effort at it.”

Tatiana lowered her eyes and did not respond. She couldn’t really. What was she to say to that? Her heart sang at the thought of him so nearby.

“Will you be staying in Cardenas, then?”

Adrian pushed the door open and turned to face her, his expression grim. “We should speak of this inside. Allow me to get a fire going and we can discuss it further.”

Tatiana acquiesced, pushing aside her impatience as she stood back and allowed him to see to the task. After a few moments of fumbling in the dark, Adrian appeared with the strike of a match. He handed her the first lamp he’d lit before lighting another, filling the small front room of the cottage with a warm, orange glow. A few more candles lit left them able to take stock of their surroundings.

The living area was crammed with plush, oversized furniture, which was covered in white sheets to keep away the dust. A colorful, woven rug covered much of the wooden floor and needed only a good sweeping to restore its original beauty. Solid, heavy oak end tables flanked the couches and chairs and a dusty, empty fireplace stood ready for a fire, its mantle boasting a plethora of dusty knick-knacks and curios belonging to the previous owner. A tall bookshelf seemed to have caught Adrian’s eye and boasted several volumes. Beneath another white sheet, Tatiana made out the shape of an escritoire, its wooden chair also covered nearby.

Across the space, a kitchen area stood open to the rest of the room, its wood-burning oven surprisingly clean with tea kettle resting on top. A small, round table sat near a bay window in the corner of the kitchen, which in the morning would overlook more of the flowers Tatiana had smelled outside, as well as a vegetable garden if her nose hadn’t missed its guess.

A closed door separated off the rest of the house, which Adrian had told her housed two bedrooms and a third, smaller room which had been outfitted with the most recent in plumbing. She smiled as she turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. “What a lovely home! I wish I lived in a place so cozy.”

Adriana returned her smile as he went about toting wood to the empty fireplace. It wasn’t cold within the house, but the fire would add much needed light to the room. Besides, Tatiana loved the smell of burning wood.

“I have a hard time believing that someone as bubbly and happy as yourself doesn’t live in a cozy home. I’d imagine any place you lived would be cozy.”

Tatiana sighed a she turned to make herself useful by removing the sheets from over the furniture. She thought of the mausoleum she lived in with her family and the life she’d thought she always wanted. Then, she thought of the tiny home she had shared with her father before Esmeralda’s good fortune had changed all their lives. Neither of those situations was ideal, and Tatiana wished for a reality that was somewhere in between.

“You do not have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Adrian offered as he bent to light the fire. Tatiana finished uncovering the furniture and folded the sheets before dropping them in a neat stack on the escritoire. “I know how it can be, wanting to escape your past.”

He clapped his hands together to rid them of dirt as the fire roared to life and then rose to his feet. Tatiana found that she actually wouldn’t mind telling him something of her life. Something within her told her that he would understand.

“My mother died when I was only twelve years old,” she confessed as she sank down onto the couch. Adrian walked forward, hands in his pockets as he stared down at her with sympathy in his eyes.

“I am sorry to hear that. That is an important age in a girl’s life. I am sure you were quite a beautiful child … becoming a woman. I cannot imagine.”

Tatiana smiled tightly at the memory. “I know it may sound vain, but I have always been beautiful. It is not a matter of conceit; it’s really just a fact. My father never forgot to remind me of it, and how it was the sharpest tool at my disposal. Or his disposal, depending on how you want to look at it. He always saw me as his ticket to a better life.”

“Ah,” Adrian said with understanding as he sank down on the sofa beside her. “An arranged marriage.”

Tatiana nodded. “In Romani culture, a bride price must be paid before a man will release his daughter for marriage. If a woman is beautiful, a good cook and housekeeper, or comes from a family where the women are known to be fertile, she can fetch a very high bride price.”

“I am very willing to bet that you are the most sought after Gypsy woman in the province. The price for you must be exceedingly high.”

Tatiana stared at her hands, which she had clenched together in her lap. “It used to be.”

Adrian seemed to understand but said no more. She appreciated that he seemed content to let her reveal whatever she needed to.

“My mother was the one who saved me from being bartered off to the highest bidder when I was a little girl. Men old enough to be my father saw that I was beautiful and knew that I would grow more so with age. They watched me. Those damned disgusting men, curse their perverted eyes! They watched me and bid on me as if I were a prized sow at a festival. And my father reveled in the attention, loved the respect he gained from other men because of how they all wanted me, even as a child.”

Adrian’s fists clenched at his side and his jaw grew tense. “What a horrible thing for a little girl to have to endure.”

She shrugged in response as if it were of no consequence, when in truth she’d been afraid for her virtue every day of her life. However, no one would have dared to test the theory that forcing Tatiana would produce a marriage. Her father would just as soon kill the man who laid a hand on her than grant her his hand in marriage. His protective nature was his one redeeming quality.

“After my mother died, my father told me that I was the woman of the house now, and that I could no longer act as a child. It was my responsibility to care for him and our home. Of course, he did not let me forget that this was nothing more than training for a life of servitude to my future husband. My life became about caring for him and his became about finding a rich man to marry me. He became greedy. Marriage to another man among our people was not enough. He knew that he could gain much more by marrying me off to a merchant or a businessman. He once had a barrister offer for me, but turned the man down when the two could not agree over price.”

Tatiana hung her head in shame as she related the tale. Her father’s antics brought her no end of shame.

“You said that the bride price used to be high for you,” Adrian ventured, staring at her through his glass lenses and gold rims with concern. “What happened?”

Tatiana felt anger shooting through her, as she always did when she thought of Andrew … Dorian … whatever he was calling himself. He had ruined everything.

“The man I told you about. The one before you. He ruined me.”

The cushion beneath her dipped and shifted as Adrian moved toward her on the sofa. His arms were around her in an instant.

“Look at me,” he coaxed when she buried her face in his chest. “Tatiana, please look at me.”

Reluctantly, she raised her head. His thumb and forefinger found her chin and he tilted her head back for a soft, sweet kiss.

“You could never be ruined.”

She returned his kiss with fervor, amazed at how understanding he was being. Most men she knew—both within the Gypsy world, and that of the royal court—saw her as soiled goods. None of them would have treated her with the care and respect Adrian had showed her in only one night.

“You are a peculiar man,” she said without thinking. Her mouth fell open and she immediately clapped her hand over it.

Adrian surprised her even more by laughing. “No need to be embarrassed, I am aware of just how odd I am. I am a contradiction of sorts, Tatiana, I won’t lie to you.”

Tatiana allowed herself to laugh with him and lowered her hand from her lips. “I like odd things. I like you. Very much. Probably more than I should.”

Adrian’s hand found hers again. “I feel the same way. Weren’t you the one who told me not to question destiny?”

“I’m not questioning so much as trying to understand it. I don’t think I ever will, but I’m glad you are here. Though, what I really want to know is how long you will be here. You said we would talk about it.”

He nodded, reclining against the back of the couch. “Yes, that. My voyage is in two weeks and I will be gone for several months. Six at the least, one year at the most.”

Tatiana’s heart sank at his words. One year was such a long time. “Are you in trade?”

He paused, seeming to think on his answer for a moment before answering. “Yes,” he finally said. “There is much profit to be found overseas. Besides, I have always wanted to leave these shores and explore new places.”

Tatiana could hear in his tone that there was more to this than trade or a simple desire to leave Barony and Cardenas behind, but she didn’t question it.

“So have I. I have spent so much of my life wondering about other places and people. I wish that I could go with you.”

She knew that she would have made most men uncomfortable with such a confession, but not Adrian. He simple pulled her against his side until she was lying on his chest, her legs stretched on the cushion beside her.

“You know, I wish you could too. I wager you’d look like a sea goddess standing at the bow of a ship, wind in your hair and the spray of the sea on your face.”

Tatiana closed her eyes and tried to imagine it, then smiled. “It’s a lovely fantasy.”

“What if I were to write to you while I’m gone?”

The question hung on the air between them as Tatiana considered it. She didn’t exactly want letters from Adrian being sent to the palace, though she couldn’t decide why exactly that was. She supposed she could always have him send them to her father’s house. She still stopped in periodically to ensure that he hadn’t drowned in his own drunkenness or starved to death.

“I would like that.”

He ran his hands through her hair as they lay together on the couch, their legs now intertwined as Adrian stretched out beneath her.

“And perhaps when I return, you will be here waiting for me. I know that I have no right to ask this of you after only one night together. We barely know each other. Tatiana, I want to know you. And I know that everything I learn about you, I will love, because how could I not? When I return, it would mean the world to me to be able to return to you.”

Tatiana brought her head up from his chest and met his eyes. Behind his glasses, they were wide—probably with fear, the same fear that had his heart pounding against hers. Honesty was there, pure and simple and Tatiana would have been a fool not to believe him.

“Adrian, I have to be honest with you. I am not ready for marriage and I cannot say that I ever will be. I do not know how to explain it to you so that you’d understand. I suppose it is mostly that I value my freedom so much. I want always to be free to do as I please and be who I am. The men who have offered for me in the past wanted nothing more than to tame the willful Gypsy girl and flaunt a beauty on their arms.”

“Do you honestly think me capable of such behavior?”

Tatiana shook her head. “In this moment, right now? No. But I once thought the same of another man, and he proved me wrong.”

Adrian sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath her. “I do understand. I want more than anything to put your mind at ease, but I know I cannot do that with only my words. Tell me what I can do to convince you. Whatever it is, I will do it if you would be mine. I don’t know how to explain what I feel without sounding like a madman, but I know that if I allow you to walk away from me, I will never forgive myself.”

Tatiana clung to his shirtfront, fear racing through her veins and mixing with the exhilaration that was telling her to trust him, to fall in love with him. The fear was still there, reminding her that she had been just as sure about Andrew before he’d broken her heart.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I am so afraid.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “So am I, Tatiana. So am I. Just spend some time with me. I have a few weeks before my voyage and if I need to spend every waking moment showing you how serious I am about picking up where we leave off when I return, I will do it. Please.”

Tatiana squeezed her eyes shut as she answered, unable to believe that she was allowing herself to go down this path.

Again.

“Yes,” she whispered, exhaling with a rush of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She reached for him, threading her fingers through his hair and kissing him hungrily, throwing herself headlong into the emotions swirling turbulently about her. Before, in the glen, he’d called this—their feelings—madness. He had been right, but Tatiana did not want to question it. She’d made a promise she intended to keep and allow him to prove himself to her later. But for tonight, just this one night, she wanted to surrender without thinking. There would be time for ration and consequences later. Now was the time to take what she wanted.

He visibly tensed, as she reached for the buttons on her blouse, the muscles in his chest drawn up tight and the tendons in his neck stretched to their limit.

“We can’t,” he sighed, his voice practically a whisper. He came into a seated position, forcing her to do the same as well.

“Yes, we can. You asked me to wait for you and I said that I would. Didn’t you say you believed in destiny? Don’t you believe that you came here—followed me here—for a reason?”

He lowered his head but his fingers tightened around hers. “Yes. Yes, I believe that. But I can’t … I could not take advantage of you.”

Tatiana could hardly believe her ears. Was he mad? “Am I wrong in thinking that we both want this? Do not lie, you promised to be honest with me.”

“I am being honest. You do not know me, Tatiana. You do not know about my past.”

“And you know nothing of mine, but none of that matters. All that matters is that we’re here now. You promised to be honest, and that means not only that you will say what you feel, but do what you feel as well. What do you feel, Adrian?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Those thoughts are not appropriate for a lady’s ears.”

Tatiana felt heat turning her cheeks red. “Then don’t tell me, show me.”

“Tatiana,” he warned. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You will come to regret it.”

She shook her head, slowly coming to her feet. “I could never regret it,” she said. “I can’t explain it, but I just know that I won’t.”

Chapter Six

Adrian could do no more than stand there, entranced by the beauty standing before him, framed by firelight and nearly naked. She had allowed her blouse to fall away and was now dropping her skirt into a colorful pool at her feet. How could he deny her? Despite the fact that he felt unworthy of touching this magnificent creature, he could not withhold his touch from her if she desired it. He would refuse her nothing. Had she asked him to pluck a handful of stars from the sky, he would have attempted it or died trying.

He swallowed past the fist-sized lump in his throat, paralyzed by anticipation. His fingers flexed at his sides as he stood, begging to fill his palms with her curves. She smiled at his reaction, in response to the widening of his eyes and the quickening of his breath.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her lips taunting him by turning up at the corners. “Am I not what you expected?”

Adrian raked his eyes over the soft slopes of her shoulders and the press of her full breasts against the lace of her chemise, down to her narrow waist, flared hips and the contours of her shapely legs. His airway constricted until he felt he could barely draw breath.

“More,” he rasped after clearing his throat. “You are much more than I expected.”

She stepped out of the circle of her skirt, leaving her slippers behind as well and closing the short distance between them. Her body swayed against his and he lost his battle for control of his hands and allowed them to move. He gripped her waist, his fingers digging into blessedly soft flesh. He closed his eyes as he ran them up and down her sides slowly, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts.

“Promise me that there will be no regrets,” he whispered as he paused just before filling his hands with the flesh he so desired. “I need to know that you will not hate me in the morning.”

“My only regret is that I am not untouched. I wish that I were. I wanted to give my virginity to a man like you. The man before you tricked it from me and I am ashamed to say that I gave it to him willingly without knowing what kind of man he was. I know that you are a good man … I just know … and I wish I’d waited for you.”

Adrian couldn’t have described what he felt at the moment if he’d tried. That she would wish to bestow such a beautiful gift on him—even if it was no longer in her possession—left him speechless.

“You honor me,” he said gently, running his hands through her still damp hair. “I do not hold it against you, my dear Tatiana. I know that there are men out there who will stop at nothing to take advantage of someone as young and innocent as you. It is not your fault.”

She smiled, but it was forced and for the second time that night, Adrian saw sadness in her eyes and cursed the man who had hurt her. Who would do such a thing to someone so innocent and sweet?

Many men of his acquaintance would, he realized. Tatiana’s innocence made her ripe for the plucking and her beauty must have brought the men to her in droves. He understood how easily someone could take advantage of her.

“We shall pretend that this is your first time,” he said, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “After all, weren’t you the one that said the past does not matter? There is only you and I here, now. In this little room, we are alone and we can say what we want, do what we want, be whatever we want.”

She raised her hand to his face. “I would want to be yours.”

Adrian reached up to cradle the back of her head in his hands. “And so you shall be.”

They sank together to the floor, and Adrian came over her, laying her on back on top of her discarded clothing. Brushing her hair aside, he traced the column of her graceful neck with his lips, his tongue circling over her skin and eliciting soft moans from deep in her chest. The sound was like music to him and Adrian found himself wanting to hear more of it. With a smile, he reached for the straps of her chemise, wondering how much more of her beautiful music he could make, fully intending to explore the possibilities. Baring her soft shoulders, he placed a row of kisses from shoulder to shoulder, pausing between to place more of the same on her exposed throat. She gripped his shoulders and held on as he lowered his head, coming to rest just above where the lace of her chemise covered the tempting mounds commanding his attention.

They moved with her every breath, hypnotizing him, possessing him, begging for his lips and his touch. He raised his hand slowly, reverently, determined to treat this as the first experience with lovemaking his angel deserved. He shivered as he uncovered one reverently, shocked that he would so readily think of her as his. It was sheer madness. But everything about this night was surreal and kissed by magic. Nothing made sense, but then nothing had to except for Tatiana, watching him expectantly with her lips slightly parted, eyes hooded by heavy lids. Her breath rustled the hairs hanging over his forehead and sent goose bumps rippling across his skin.

He paused, his hands just inches away from one beautiful, bronze breast. “I’ve done manual labor for most of my life,” he said softly. “My hands are a bit rough and calloused.”

She smiled and arched her back, brushing his palm with a dainty, brown nipple suddenly gone hard.

“I want your touch, Adrian,” she gasped as his hand closed around the offering, his other hand coming up to uncover the other and palm it, too. “Please, just touch me.”

Adrian obliged her, gently kneading and squeezing the soft yet firm orbs at his fingertips, in awe of the abundance that was Tatiana. Even with his palms full, plump, golden flesh rose above his fingers, and he lapped at that flesh with his tongue, brushing gently against it with his lips as he plucked at her nipples. Tatiana’s back bowed as he took one of the tips between his teeth, still steadily teasing the other. She reached up into his hair and held on tight, her fingers tightening on the silky strands as he teased her into readiness.

He readily switched to the other, leaving the first wet and glistening in the light of the fire, producing another lyrical cry from her lips. It was what he’d wanted, but still he needed more. He wanted to hear her sing.

While his current position at her breasts was a heaven he could spend hours in, he went about uncovering the rest of her, kissing every inch of exposed skin as he slowly slid the chemise down over her ribs and stomach. She shivered and writhed beneath him, her thighs gripping him as he settled between them, using his hips to keep her anchored to the floor.

“Adrian,” she gasped as he slowly swirled his tongue around her navel before nipping playfully at her hipbone. “I … oh, God …”

“I know, my sweet,” he murmured as he prepared himself to lower the chemise over her hips. “I know how you feel. I feel the same way.”

“Please …. now. I can’t wait any longer.”

Their eyes met as her undergarment finished the last of its journey over her hips and legs. “Oh, but darling, I’ve only just begun.”

His chuckle ended abruptly, choking him as he glanced down and Tatiana, now completely bared to his view.

“God in heaven, Tatiana! Do you always run about without drawers on?”

She bit her lower lip shyly and blushed, filling Adrian with an emotion that he dared not name. He rose up to kiss the tip of her nose and reassure her.

“It’s so blasted hot this time of year,” she said with a giggle. “I hope you don’t think me very bad.”

He couldn’t help but laugh again—it seemed something that just happened when Tatiana was near—as he slid back down her body, placing another row of hot kisses along the way.

“Oh no, my sweet Tatiana. You are good … so very good.”

Her reply was cut off as he parted her legs wide, his stomach clenching tightly as he ran his fingers through silken black curls to find the heated, silky center of her core. She whimpered and squirmed as he tested her, his fingertips tingling as they encountered her moist heat. As he lowered his head toward her, he parted her for better access to her sweet center, his mouth watering for a taste of her.

“What are you doing?” she screeched, shooting up to a seated position at the first lap of his tongue against her. He glanced up and froze, chastised by the mixture of confusion and pleasure he found on her face.

He stilled his hammering heart and fought the voice telling him to show rather than tell. Tatiana was obviously as innocent as he had thought. It didn’t matter that some other man had taken her virginity; he doubted she knew anything about making love beyond the basic act of penetration.

“Did you not like it?” he asked, hoping against all hope that she would not be disgusted by the intimate act.

She shook her head slowly, her dark eyes narrowed with thought. “No. I mean, yes,” she answered slowly, as if thinking of her answer. “It was lovely. I never realized such a thing was done. Does everyone do such a thing?”

Adrian resisted the urge to laugh, not wanting to embarrass her. “Not everyone, though those who do not have no idea what they are missing. I can stop if you like.”

He held his breath for her answer, praying that she would not deny him the pleasure of loving her this way.

“No!” she protested. “No, please do not stop. I just … I hope you don’t think me too bold for asking … but I wonder if it is proper for me to do the same to you.”

Adrian closed his eyes and held his breath, sure that his climax was near at just the thought of her plump lips wrapped around him. It had been so long since he’d had a woman, he knew he couldn’t withstand such torture.

“I would like that very much,” he said, his voice harsh and raspy with want. “Some other time, perhaps. I want this time to be about you. It’s your first time, remember?”

She allowed him to lower her back to the floor and didn’t protest again as he resumed his earlier actions.

Some other time? Would there be another time? Adrian knew it was ridiculous to think they could carry on beyond this one night, but he did not want to dwell on that now. He didn’t want to imagine going beyond this night without the hope of being able to see her again.

Adrian’s thoughts were pushed aside for the time being as the sweetness of Tatiana filled his mouth. He took his time exploring her flesh methodically, every stroke of his tongue controlled and calculated so that each one gave her more pleasure than the last. He closed his eyes and savored every second, every sound that poured from her lips until the time was just right for him to clamp his lips around the sensitive bud buried within her silken folds, pulling the most beautiful scream from deep in her chest.

He rode the waves of her climax to the end, knowing that the sounds of her completion would forever haunt him like the soprano’s aria of an opera. It was unlike anything he had ever heard.

When the spasms of her flesh had quieted and she was still beneath him, Adrian sat back on his knees and quickly stripped off his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers before lowering himself back over her. Their eyes met and he found tears in the corners of hers.

“I take it that these are tears of joy and pleasure?” he asked as he gently swiped them away.

She nodded, swallowing noisily as she fought to catch her breath. “I never could have thought … that was so … thank you, Adrian.”

He pressed his lips to hers, savoring her slow kiss as she ran her fingers through his hair. “No need to thank me,” he said after she had released him. “I once read somewhere that a woman’s body is a temple. I thought it ridiculous at the time that someone would compare a woman’s body to a place of worship. Now I understand exactly what that man must have been feeling.”

If at all possible, her eyes became wider as she pushed gently at his shoulders, coaxing him to his back. He could do no more than gaze up at her in awe as she straddled his hips, her hair falling in a silken curtain over her breasts down to her waist.

“Now it is my turn to worship you,” she said with a smirk.

Adrian held on to her hips, fighting the urge to thrust up into her as she leaned toward him, tickling his chest and stomach with the glossy strands of her hair. She followed it with her fingertips, running them over the swell of his chest and his slender torso, tracing the lines dividing the muscles of his abdomen. She smiled at the way his stomach bunched and jerked beneath her touch, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth again as she raked her fingertips through the light dusting of golden hair running down his abdomen and disappearing into his trousers and drawers.

He nearly lost it when she followed her hands with her lips, her little tongue swirling over his skin in imitation of what he had done to her. When that darting tongue circled one of his flat nipples, he gasped, tangling his fingers in her hair as his hips bowed up against hers. He watched her as she explored him with curiosity, content to allow her to take her time and learn him, learn the ways a woman could give pleasure to a man. When she flicked at the button on the front of his drawers, he held his breath in anticipation as she eyed his hardened shaft, now freed and standing proud for her inspection.

That heated blush was back in her cheeks but the curiosity never left her eyes as she took him into her palm, leaning closer as she stroked him lightly, once. He hissed, exhaling slowly through his clenched teeth as she did it again, seemingly delighted at his response. She seemed even more pleased when she ran her thumb over the engorged head of him, smearing the tiny, pearl-colored bead of moisture she found there across his sensitive flesh. He closed his eyes and fought with all his might not to spill himself then and there like an untried youth.

Tatiana didn’t help matters by closing her lips over him, tentatively tasting him with her tongue. A few swirls of that curious tongue was all it took before he was gripping her by the shoulders and pulling her back over him.

“If you do not stop that, we will not get any further tonight,” he growled as he grabbed her hips, positioning her over him and pausing at her entrance. “And, Tatiana, I want inside of you. Now.”

Without preamble, he thrust his hips upward, sliding into her inch by slow inch, taking his time to stretch the satiny walls of her fist-tight sheath. He barred his teeth and tensed every muscle in his body in an attempt at holding back, allowing her to set the pace and take as much of him as she could take without hurting herself. Tatiana’s face showed no pain, though. He watched her, pleased by the ecstasy that played across her features as she took him all in, coming to rest against his thighs as he filled her to near bursting.

He brushed her hair aside and revealed on succulent breast, leaning up to take it into his mouth as he moved against her, producing another chorus of sweet notes from between her lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held on as she gripped his shoulders and rode him, her hips slamming against his with more and more force with each passing second. Every muscle in Adrian’s body was coiled and ready to spring as nearly unbearable pressure built up at the base of his spine. He lost himself in her, forgetting about the careful and calculated control that so ruled his life as he met her thrust for thrust, leaning back onto his elbows for leverage as Tatiana led the way, shattering the night with her cries of delirious delight.

When he felt the spasms of another climax rocking her insides, he allowed himself to go there with her, climbing the highest height before hurtling over the edge, falling to his back as she collapsed against him, her sweat-slicked skin hot against his, her hair burying them in a curtain darker than the night.

Adrian wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight; in no way ready to release her or the warm feeling of remaining inside of her though their lovemaking had ended. He stroked her hair away from her face, running his hands down her back as she sat up just enough to gaze down at him.

They remained that way for several minutes, both lost in thought with eyes locked on each other’s. After awhile she leaned down and placed a kiss upon his lips.

“What just happened?” Adrian couldn’t help but question as he stared at the dark beauty on top of him. “What is this, my sweet Tatiana?”

She shrugged and that mischievous smile of hers made an appearance. “Destiny,” she said as she leaned into him for another kiss. “Never question it.”

***

In the bright light of day, the Gypsy girl sleeping in his arms was just as beautiful and real as she had been last night. Adrian had been afraid to open his eyes this morning, afraid that he would glance down and find that he had only been dreaming. However, the first sight to greet his eyes that morning was a head full of glossy, black hair. He smiled and ran his fingers through the shiny locks, causing her to moan softly in her sleep and shift in his arms, tilting her face up to give him a better view of her pink, parted lips and raven black eyelashes resting on high cheekbones.

She was slightly flushed in sleep and he wondered if she could be dreaming of him. After rising from the floor and dressing again, he had pulled her onto the sofa and tucked her into the crook of his arm, holding her that way until she fell asleep. They remained that way throughout the night. Adrian had been watching the sunrise through the ivory lace curtains covering the window facing the front of the house. He was happy to have finally had the chance to visit the home he had purchased for himself. While his manor at Hawthorne Court could house this place one hundred times over, nothing could squelch his pride at the thought that he’d earned this little house himself. He had saved and scratched for it for years, and nothing could feel more deserved than something a man had worked for and gained.

It gave him even more pleasure to have been able to bring Tatiana here. She seemed to belong instantly and he could already picture her walking down the dirt path to the house, a handful of picked wild flowers in one hand, the hem of her skirts in the other, the sun beaming down on her hat-covered head. He could see her seated at the kitchen’s rough table with a steaming cup of tea, smiling at him over the rim.

Where were these thoughts coming from? He saw them as easily as if they were visions and he wondered if this day was as full of Gypsy magic as the night before it had been. If so, he hoped the enchantment never faded.

He had always been a practical and pragmatic sort, something he prided himself on in the face of his mother’s brazen and outlandish ways. While he had always known marriage was inevitable, he’d always thought to go about it in his usually calculated, thoughtful way.

Before his father had left him his fortune and estate, he had thought to marry someone quiet and reserved, a woman who was intelligent and well read—all the better if she shared a common interest in literature as he did. Beauty was not a requisite, as Adrian did not take much stock in one’s appearance. In fact, if she were plain there would be no room for vanity. A quality he despised in all human beings. A few children would be nice, he’d thought, though he wasn’t quite sure if he’d be ready for them right away.

Of course, all of that had been before the death of his sire and the events that had followed. The reality was that he’d be expected to take some overblown courtier’s insipid young daughter to wife, one who would undoubtedly possess all of the qualities he loathed. It hadn’t taken long for the ladies to prove him right. They were a flock of vapid, vain birds, the lot of them, each one of them out to snag a rich husband in any way necessary. Luckily, he had Roger there to take him under his wing and teach him all of their tricks. He had nearly fallen into the marriage trap a few times by young girls desperate enough to hope he would compromise them and then save them from scandal with a ring.

Aside from the young debutantes, there were also the older, more experienced widows now equipped with their dead husband’s fortunes and the freedom to live a bit more dangerously than the young, unmarried ladies. They were just as bad, and Adrian found he could hardly stomach their brazen stairs and innuendo. It seemed as if the kind of woman he’d been hoping to marry did not exist within this new world he found himself a part of.

Now, he had finally found what he was looking for. H would rather have Tatiana than any of the most beautiful, poised, genteel girls of the court. He was already gossip fodder because of his unconventional gaining of the title. Who would care if he took a Gypsy girl to wife?

Who was to say that Tatiana would want to live the kind of life he’d been forced into? He tried to picture Tatiana at a society ball, forced to put on airs and stifle her true nature. The whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth.

His arms tightened possessively around her, causing her to stir in her sleep and slowly come to wakefulness. As she set those onyx eyes on him and smiled, he vowed not to let her get away from him.

“Good morning,” he said, kissing her gently on the forehead.

“It really is a good morning, isn’t it?” she responded, stretching against him and stirring the fires of the previous night’s desire. Dear God, he already couldn’t stomach the thought of waking up the next morning without her. No, by God, he would wait to tell her of his fortune and status. They had only just met and he did not want her to decide that his offer of getting to know each other and corresponding while he was gone was not worth the result. He wanted to love her, and he wanted her to come to love him for who he was, not what he possessed.

His stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet room and Tatiana giggled.

“My thoughts exactly,” she said, slowly rising to a seated position on the sofa.

Adrian followed, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I am sorry for not being prepared to feed you this morning. I promise the next time you come here I will have procured some food.”

Tatiana stood and smiled, rushing to the window and throwing it open. The scent of smoke and fire greeted them, mingling with that of the blossoms growing in the flowerbed. She turned and laughed, gesturing toward the smoke billowing up from the Gypsy camp in the distance.

“Breakfast is but a short walk away,” she said, reaching out for his hand.

Adrian could not help but follow the magnetic pull that brought him to his feet and then to her side. “Are you certain you want to go back into camp together? Your Romani friends may not be too happy to see you on the arm of a gadje.”

Tatiana frowned and storm clouds gathered in her eyes. Adrian shivered. If this was what her anger looked like, he would hate to be on the receiving end.

“Do not call yourself that,” she snapped, pulling him toward the front door and throwing it open. “You are not a gadje. You are mine, and no one will treat you badly in my presence.”

He looped on arm over her shoulders, chuckling happily as they walked along the path. “Oh my dear Tatiana. I am learning much about you already. You are not one to be trifled with.”

She glanced up at him again, mischief in her eyes. “And don’t you forget it.”

Chapter Seven

Desmond Brandon dropped into a crouch on the ground, releasing the bed sheet he’d used to lower himself from Lady Abigail’s third story window. He remained in his hiding place among the hydrangea shrubs, holding his breath as the gardener finished pruning a plant not ten yards away from where he hid. The sound of his heart pounding filled his ears with the rushing sound of his blood and he closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of the gardener’s footsteps to take him back the way he’d come so that Desmond could make his escape.

Tatiana would be expecting him to return for her with the carriage, which he’d left behind before returning to Lady Abigail’s home on horseback in the dark of night. He did not have much before she began to wonder where he was. The tight fist of nerves in his gut lessened as his mind filled with memories of the night before. Blood surged hot and fast through his veins, filling him with the same feeling of euphoria he had experienced in the arms of his love, Abigail. Her invitation to return to the manor hours after the dinner party guests had gone home seemed bold and brazen at the time. Nevertheless, his Abigail was adventurous, as well as eager to give herself to him on her birthday. Desmond had no doubt that Abigail would be his wife someday, and if she didn’t want to wait, he would not ask her to. He wanted her just as badly as she seemed to want him.

“Please,” she had begged after dragging him away from the party and into her father’s library. “It is such a special night for me. I am of age now, and I want to know what it is to be a woman. I don’t want to experience it with anyone but you, Desmond.”

In the dim glow of the moon peeking through the library curtains, Desmond had bent down and captured her pouty, cherry red lips, his kiss filled with promise of the evening to come. While he had long since experienced his first time with a chambermaid shortly after moving into Largess Hall, Desmond thought of this night with Abigail as his true first experience. His clumsy fumbling and groaning with a maid meant nothing when compared with making love to his lady.

And a lady she was, he thought with a dreamy smile as he recalled returning in the middle of the night, tying his horse to a tree on the outer edge of the woods surrounding the manor, and finding the white bed sheet dangling from her window. When he climbed into her bedroom, she was waiting for him, seated demurely on the bed in a pristine white nightgown buttoned to the neck, her arms covered by a paisley shawl. She had brushed her long, blonde hair down to her waist and left it loose—a gesture he knew was for him and only him. Like all well-mannered ladies, Abigail was never seen with her hair down in public, so be to be treated to such a sight set Desmond’s blood on fire.

He swept into the room and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly and asking her for the third time if she was sure. Those wide, blue eyes so full of innocence had locked onto his as she reassured him once again that this was what she wanted.

“I always thought you would be my wife the first time we made love,” Desmond confessed.

She’d run her hands up his chest and paused at his neatly tied cravat, her fingers buried in the soft silk. “Desmond, you and I are destined to be together. Can you not feel it? I already feel as if I am married to you … in my heart.”

That was all Desmond needed to hear. He knew that if he returned the next day with a ring, she would accept it. Of course, he would speak to Damien about the appropriate way to approach Abigail’s father first. He was still learning about this new world he was now part of and he did not want to misstep. Soon, Lady Abigail would carry his name, would be his wife. The thought filled him so much joy that he had scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed at a run, whooping with happiness as they toppled together on the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs.

Abigail giggled and reminded him to keep his voice down lest her maid hear them and come to investigate. The rest of the night went by in a blur of erotic images; him unbuttoning her prim nightgown to expose the milky skin underneath, her reaction when he touched her breast for the first time, the tears he’d tenderly wiped away as he pierced the barrier of her virginity.

It was a night he would never forget, one that would seal their bond as mates forever. It did not matter that they were not married yet. In his mind, she was already his.

Desmond snapped to attention as the gardener dropped the last of his shrub trimmings into a basket and disappeared with it around the corner. With another quick glance to ensure he would not be seen, Desmond set off at a run, his long legs carrying him across the lawn and toward the woods where his horse was still waiting, though quite impatiently.

He raced to the palace, using the back roads and a shortcut he’d discovered long ago. He had just enough time to leave his horse in the care of a groom and change his clothes before the carriage was brought to the courtyard. Thankfully, Tatiana hadn’t been waiting for him long and seemed content to ride with him silence.

After sneaking a glance or two at her, he could not help but wonder if her night had been as magical as his. The dreamy expression on her face as she stared out of the carriage window hinted that it had.

Desmond shook his head and turned to glance out of his own window, wondering how it was that she could find so much happiness in returning to their old way of life. He could understand that it had been hard for her after the scandal, but scandals always passed eventually. How anyone could long for Gypsy wagons and peasant fare when they’d tasted champagne and lived in the company of kings was beyond all imagining. As for him, he had now found the perfect jewel of a woman to compliment his new way of life. A real lady.

Desmond smiled and settled back against the carriage seat and contemplated which stone and style of ring would best suit his Abigail for the rest of the ride home.

***

Tatiana was happy to find Esmeralda awake when she entered the king and queen’s bedroom. After parting ways with a dreamy-eyed Desmond in the foyer, she dashed up the stairs, her hands clutching a basket of baked goods for Esmeralda tightly.

The queen was radiant such a short time after giving birth and was upright in bed and smiling widely, holding her newborn son in her arms while watching her firstborn daughter, Leila play with toy soldiers and dolls on the floor.

Tatiana beamed at her little cousin and stooped to ruffle her dark, unruly curls. Her lips turned up at the sight of the girl’s grubby hands and stained breeches. The near two-year old was as rough and tumble as any boy her age, and refused to don a dress when she didn’t have to. Rather than fight her, Esmeralda and Damien appeased her, allowing her to choose her own clothes and toys for the time being. Things were much more harmonious in the palace when Princess Leila was allowed to have her way.

“Hello, little one,” she cooed, earning a kiss from Leila and a smile. “Oh no,” Tatiana said as Leila extended one of the toy soldiers toward her. “Tati can’t play right now, love. I have to say hello to your mom.”

“Hello!” Leila yelled, waving one chubby hand in Esmeralda’s direction.

Tatiana giggled. “We’ll play later, all right?”

Leila shrugged and went back to playing quietly, dismissing Tatiana without a second glance. She lifted her basket and approached Esmeralda’s bedside, pulling up a chair and dropping her haul onto the side table.

“Muffins and bread from Aunt Effie,” Tatiana explained when Esmeralda eyed the basket curiously. “I was going to take them to the kitchen, but Desmond can sniff out a freshly baked muffin like a bloodhound. I wanted you to get some before he got to them.”

“Mmm, thank you!” Esmeralda murmured as she reached for the basket. Tatiana took the opportunity to pluck her baby cousin from his mother’s arms and nestle him against her chest.

Damien Alexander Largess II was an interesting combination of the parents who had created him. Like his sister, his skin was kissed with the same bronzed hue as Esmeralda, yet his hair was nearly white blond. Alexandra had expressed hope that the color would soften to a darker blond as he got older, but Tatiana thought he was darling just the way he was. His features were all Damien’s but his eyes were a stunning mix of his father’s green and Esmeralda’s amber. To call them hazel could not have done them justice. Tatiana thought they looked like very rare and precious gems, glowing with the dew of youth as the little boy squirmed and cooed in her arms. One arm came loose from his swaddling and Tatiana offered her finger, her heart melting as his gripped it tightly.

“He’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. While she had seen him several times since he was born, the emotion was always the same. Her heart seemed to swell so that her chest could barely contain it. She was filled with overwhelming pangs of need, the need to hold her own babe in the same way. “Hello little Alex,” she whispered. They had taken to calling him that to keep from confusing him with his father.

She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead affectionately, closing her eyes as she pictured herself as a mother. Amazingly, the image that came to mind depicted her holding a child with blond hair and blue eyes.

Her eyes flew open and her heart hammered against her chest as she met Esmeralda’s eyes, filled with guilt that her mind would stray so while she was visiting her cousin.

“Tatiana, are you all right?” she asked, concern etching her brow. “For a moment there it looked as if you were a hundred miles away.”

Tatiana forced a smile. “I’m fine, really.” Just daydreaming about having a blond stranger’s baby, she thought dryly. “How are the plans for the christening coming along?” she asked quickly, hoping to change the subject.

Esmeralda’s eyes lit up as she reached for another muffin. “We’ve received hundreds of confirmations for Alex’s christening and the ball as well. Jarvis has kept me up to date on the planning of the menu as well as the delivery of new silver candelabras and specially monogrammed tablecloths and napkins. Everything is just perfect!”

Tatiana glanced back down at the little bundle in her arms, knowing what was coming next.

“Have you … changed your mind … about coming?” Esmeralda ventured, her voice lowered.

She had turned her cousin down three times already, refusing to attend the ball following Alex’s christening. While she would not miss the ceremony, she saw no reason to show her face again to the royal court at a ball that Alex would most likely sleep through. Besides, Esmeralda was only going through with the lavish party because it was tradition. F

Tatiana had firmly made up her mind not to go and to continue to refuse Esmeralda until she stopped asking. Everything within her told her that it was a terrible idea. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do less than walk around in a heavy court dress with her hair piled high and encrusted with beads and feathers in a hot, crowded ballroom among the very same people she’d left the court to avoid. On the other hand, she knew that the evening meant a lot to Esmeralda. In fact, her decision had driven a wedge of sorts between them and Tatiana hated that more than anything. She released the breath she’d been holding slowly, knowing that there was a good chance she would come to regret her decision. “All right,” she relented. “I’ve decided to attend. But …,” Tatiana paused to allow Esmeralda to get her excited squeal out of the way, “… it’s just this once. I hope you will not expect me to attend more functions after this, because I am not going to change my mind about my decision to leave the court.”

“Of course not,” Esmeralda said with a nod. Yet, an excited smile was pulling at the corners of her mouth and Tatiana fought to suppress a groan. “And I know you refused before, but I took the liberty of ordering a gown for you just in case.”

“Esmeralda!”

Her cousin had the grace to look at least a bit chastised, but her smile eventually took over. “Now, don’t say anything until you have seen it. I would not have purchased it for you if I thought you wouldn’t fall head over heels in love with it on sight.”

“Fine,” Tatiana said with a dramatic sigh. “Let’s see this beautiful gown. Where is it?”

“In my dressing room on the settee. It’s the large, white box wrapped in brown shop paper.”

Tatiana handed Alex back over to his mother before passing through the open door into Esmeralda’s large dressing room. At times like this, she still marveled that what was now a dressing room in her cousin’s home had once been the size of the entire front room of the cottage she shared with her father. The lavishness never ceased to amaze her. She found the box immediately, but it was so heavy that Tatiana opted to open it right there rather than drag it. Despite her reservations about attending the ball, she couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped as she pulled the top of the box off to reveal the creation inside.

Deep purple satin shot through with gold thread enchanted her, the intricate embroidery along the high collar, square neckline and bodice dazzled. In a style that was centuries old, the stiff bodice dipped down into a V at the hips before exploding out in full, voluminous skirts. In her own dressing room were the many contraptions and petticoats one would have to wear under this gown to achieve the full effect. Overall, the getup would weigh nearly ten pounds, and while no woman was comfortable in court attire, no one seemed to know why the tradition was still upheld. Perhaps because, discomfort withstanding, there was something so very whimsical and beautiful about going back to the old way of doing things. The matching slippers, reticule and hairpiece were just as exquisite and if Esmeralda’s wide-eyed pleas hadn’t sold her on going, this package would have. Tatiana dropped the dress back into the box and bounded back into the room, her smile wide as she confronted her cousin.

“It’s perfect! You sneaky thing, you!”

Esmeralda shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about,” she said, lifting her chin regally.

“Of course not,” Tatiana replied sarcastically. “Fine, don’t admit to trying to use bribery and guilt. You and I know both know you did it, so let’s just leave it at that.”

“It might need a few alterations, but when I saw it, I knew it was the gown for you. I know it’s just one night, but I hope you will enjoy it.”

“I will try my hardest,” she promised. She intended to keep that promise. “Now, I’ll go and let you rest. I did not get much sleep last night either, so I think I’ll go take a nap.”

“How was the party?” she asked just as Tatiana’s hand touched the door handle.

She paused, her spine stiffening as erotic images of her night with Adrian flittered through her mind. Her face went hot and she turned in the doorway, clearing her throat noisily. “It was … um … it was quite nice, actually. In fact, I hear the group that was here last night will be here a few weeks longer,” she added. “I think I’ll be joining them again soon. It was a great time.”

Esmeralda smiled and nodded, her face a bit sad at the mention of the Gypsy party. Tatiana knew she missed the carefree evenings, but her duties as queen kept her from them now. Besides, the royal family’s best-kept secret was Esmeralda’s Gypsy heritage. If she were seen dancing at a Gypsy camp, word would spread and scandal would ensue.

More than ever, Tatiana was grateful to have left behind a lifestyle that barred her from everything that made her who she truly was.

***

“What in God’s name has got you so cheery this morning?” Roger groaned as he hoisted himself into the carriage behind Adrian.

His friend had noticed the spring in his step right off, but Adrian had been playing coy all morning as to the source of his newfound happiness. “Nothing at all,” he said, barely containing the smile trying to spread across his face as the carriage began to move. “It’s a beautiful morning, is it not?”

Roger moaned again, clutching his middle as the conveyance rocked and bounced. “I’d forgotten you are a morning person,” he growled, pulling the velvet curtains closed and blocking out the bright sun. “I’ve always known there was something unnatural about you.”

Adrian laughed and threw the curtains open again, too happy to sit about shrouded in darkness just because Roger was suffering the aftereffects of over imbibing.

Roger glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I will be quite glad to be rid of you for the day.”

Adrian shrugged and stretched his legs until his ankles rested on Roger’s seat across from him. “I’ll do quite all right without your company, thank you. You were right last night, you know. I am done with feeling sorry for myself. Today is a new day … a new adventure.”

Roger’s spine straightened and a sly grin worked the corners of his mouth. “You’ve met a girl,” he cried accusingly, his aches and pains seemingly forgotten.

“What on earth gave you that idea?”

Roger smiled knowingly. “Nothing pulls a man out of a funk faster than a tumble with a pretty girl.”

“It was not just a tumble,” Adrian warned, his voice low. “It was not as vulgar as you’re making it out to be.”

His friend merely nodded and went on grinning like a fool. “You do not wish to talk about it. I understand. You are a true gentleman.”

No, he thought as he went out staring out the carriage window, watching as the streets of Cardenas crawled past, I am just a man who’s very quickly lost hold of his senses as well as his heart.

“Listen to me,” Roger said as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Adrian’s rented townhouse, which was only a few minutes’ walk away from the one Roger owned. “Whatever happened to you last night, I am glad of it. Truly. I haven’t seen you this happy in … well, I have never seen you happy at all!”

Adrian slipped on his hat as he left the carriage, turning on the bottom step to bid Roger farewell. “Thank you. It couldn’t have happened if not for you.”

“Ah, get on with you,” Roger scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Shall I come for you this evening? You cannot leave Cardenas until you have dined and played a few hands at the Weston Club. Shall we say, around eight o’clock?”

Adrian paused scrambling for an appropriate excuse. He’d promised to meet Tatiana back at the cottage that evening and he wanted to be there early enough to prepare the house for her arrival. “Apologies, but I cannot tonight; I promised to spend the evening with Mother.” Adrian slammed the carriage door and trotted up the front stairs before Roger could stop him. An evening with his Gypsy vixen was far preferable to one filled with cards, drink, and the company of stuffy, titled men. The thought brought another smile to his lips and Adrian left his hat and coat with the butler—who came with the rented townhouse along with the rest of the staff—and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the landing of the second floor. He nearly came nose to nose with Martha, whom he had to grasp by the shoulders to steady as he’d almost sent her tumbling down the stairs.

“Goodness, Adrian, what on earth?”

“Good morning, Mother!” Adrian bellowed, planting a kiss on her forehead. Just for this one moment, while she was in her right mind and he was feeling so good, he could pretend as if they were a normal mother and son. The sinful stains of their past didn’t have to matter.

Martha’s eyes widened at Adrian’s enthusiasm, much used to being treated with cool politeness by her son. “You must have had quite an evening,” she said, her voice tinged with laughter.

“I would love to tell you about it, but I have much to do today,” he said, ensuring that she was properly balanced before releasing her. “Perhaps I will see you for lunch?”

Martha looked as if she would suffer an apoplexy then and there. “Why … well, yes of course! I’d be delighted.”

“Noon, then?”

“Yes.”

Adrian was glad to see a smile upon her face and a sparkle in her eye. He was hard on Martha for the things she had done but he couldn’t imagine the agony of growing old and losing hold of one’s senses. No matter their past, no one deserved such a fate. Hoping that her lucidity would last for at least a few days, Adrian set off toward his chambers to wash and change.

He’d decided that he quite liked the townhouse and though he had not planned to purchase it, Adrian was now seriously considering it. While he was a lord of Barony and would spend most of his time there, he could see the advantages of owning a townhouse in Cardenas in addition to the one he owned in Barony as well as his estate. However, if it were not for the sake of having to keep up appearances, he would have much rather inhabited his small cottage on the edge of town.

And why shouldn’t you? He thought as he stepped behind the privacy screen shielding his washstand from the rest of the room. This four-bedroom townhome was lovely and its location was convenient, but he could not stop thinking about Tatiana. She had looked so beautiful this morning, standing in the doorway as she led him out into the sunlight, framed by untamed wildflowers and sunlight. The little house was where he planned to spend most of his time while in Cardenas, but when he returned … What would happen then?

“No use in putting the cart before the horse,” he muttered aloud as he removed his clothing. First, he had to gain his Gypsy beauty’s trust, something he knew he had earned but would have to work to keep. At some juncture, he was going to have to explain his background to her, as well as his present circumstances. Neither appealed to him, and he knew they wouldn’t to her, either. How did one go about explaining that they were now a nobleman when they were once the bastard son of a courtesan?

After washing up, Adrian donned his dressing gown and went about searching his armoire for something to wear. His valet had been quite disappointed to be left behind in Barony, but Adrian had not seen the need when he hardly allowed the man to perform his duties. He shaved himself, laid out his own clothes and dressed himself. Assistance was hardly necessary. With only a few hours until noon, Adrian hurriedly dressed in his simplest clothes before trotting out to the mews where he chose his lighter, faster curricle over the carriage as he wished to drive himself and preferred the open air to the stuffy interior of a coach.

Once he had hitched his matching team of two to the vehicle, he started toward Cardenas’ market square, his mind filled with thoughts of magic and destiny.

Chapter Eight

Tatiana paused at the edge of the clearing surrounding Adrian’s small cottage, her fingers tightening around the heavy basket she gripped with both hands in front of her. In the bright light of the late afternoon, the cottage was lovelier than it had been the night before. It was quite charming, really. Its only flaws were the overgrown flowerbeds, windows that needed a good washing and shutters that could use a fresh coat of paint. She could see a vehicle resting behind the cottage and a matching pair of bays resting near a pair of troughs filled with water and hay. Tatiana smiled.

He was here!

Her feet began to move, her heart accelerating with every step she took toward the little house. It had been so long since she felt this way, so headily excited about laying eyes on someone, that she didn’t even pause to question it. Doubt and fear niggled at her conscience, but she pushed them aside, determined to see the best in the man who had dazzled her by the pond’s edge and the light of the moon.

Just as she reached out for the front door’s handle, the door swung open and Adrian’s long, lithe frame filled the doorway. Her pulse fluttered as she stared up into his eyes, which were free of obstruction as his glasses were nestled in the breast pocket of his shirt. They were a startling, crystal clear blue this morning, heavy lidded and filled with promise as he reached for her with one hand and her basket with the other. After ushering her inside and closing the door, he promptly sat the basket on the now uncovered writing desk before pulling her into his arms.

Tatiana laughed, but went willingly, her palms pressed to the firm muscles of his chest. “Good afternoon to you, too,” she said with a smile.

“It has only been a few hours, I know,” he said after pressing a soft kiss to her lips, “but I counted every minute of every one. I’m glad you decided to come back.”

“Nothing could have stopped me,” she answered honestly. She had told Esmeralda that she was going to visit her father, which was something she rarely ever did. She felt horrible about the lie, especially when she and Esmeralda had always been so close, but she was not ready for anyone else to know about Adrian. She needed time to understand what was happening between them first.

“Not even your father?” he asked, concern etching his features as he lifted the linen napkin she’d used to cover the basket’s contents.

She cleared her throat and lowered her eyes, grateful that he was looking in the basket and not directly at her. “My father’s interference in my life is no longer welcome,” she said, which was still the truth. After moving into the palace with Damien and Esmeralda, she had nearly severed all contact with him. “I live my life and he lives his. We have an understanding.”

Adrian nodded, glancing back up at her from the basket. “I understand completely. Did you make all of this yourself? You really did not have to; I made sure to bring food this time.”

Tatiana blushed. Although she enjoyed preparing food, the dinner she had brought for them to share had come straight from the royal palace’s kitchen. “No, that was prepared by a … a friend. She’s a very good cook. I knew you were bringing food, but I did not want to come empty-handed.”

He lifted the basket and carried it to the kitchen, where he left it on the table before moving to the stove. “It looks delicious. We can eat now if you want. Tea?”

Tatiana nodded as she took a seat at one of the chairs at the table. “Yes, please.”

Adrian bustled about the kitchen, collecting wood from a neat pile stacked up near the kitchen’s side door and placing into the stove to heat it. Before long, he had a kettle filled with water and settled on the stove.

Tatiana studied her surroundings again, noticing that Adrian had been busy before her arrival. All of the furniture had been uncovered and Tatiana found that she loved the pieces with their faded canary yellow fabric and scratched oak accents. It was worn and old, but she adored its cozy allure. He had taken the time to sweep the floors and dust the escritoire, bookcase, and mantle, as well as throw open the windows to allow in fresh air and sunshine. Through the white and yellow lace panels, the sun lent the room a soft glow. He had also found a vase, filled it with water and stuffed it with blossoms from the overgrown flowerbed outside. Tatiana fingered an iris blossom and smiled.

“You must have been here most of the day, preparing for me.”

Adrian shrugged as he reached into the now dusted and cleaned mahogany cabinet to retrieve plates, silverware, teacups and saucers for two. “A little longer than an hour, I suppose. It will take longer than that to have this place in tiptop shape, I’m afraid. I do not mind taking the time to do it; this place was my dream.”

Tatiana eyed him curiously as he approached the table with his arms full. “What do you mean?” she asked as she went about helping him to set the table and lay out their modest dinner.

“Well,” he began slowly, as if thinking about everything he was going to say before he said it, in a way Tatiana was beginning to believe matched a calculating personality. “I lived most of my life in many different places. I know I can tell you the truth about my parents, because you understand what it is like to suffer because of one.”

Tatiana nodded as she retrieved the now screaming kettle from the stove and moved to finish preparing the tea. “Of course you can. No parent can be worse than a father who wishes to sell his only child to the highest bidder.” She laughed, but knew there was bitterness in her tone. Adrian did not remark upon it.

“I never knew my father,” he answered, pausing with his hand on the back of his chair. “I always knew his identity, but I never actually knew him, as a son should know his father. My mother was a courtesan, and quite a famous one in her day. Over the course of my life, she had many different lovers, and I’m sure just as many before I was born.” He paused, saying no more.

Tatiana glanced up to find him watching her as if he expected her to frown upon him because of what he had just revealed. After filling the beautiful, porcelain teapot and bringing it to the table, she placed her hand on his reassuringly. “Adrian, we are not given a choice when we are born. Our parents are who they are, and if not for your father choosing your mother as his mistress at the time, you would not exist. I find the thought heartbreaking. Besides, who knows what your mother’s circumstances were at the time? Life is hard for women with no means and little or no money. Without the protection of a male, many women are forced to make the same decision your mother did. If a woman is beautiful, but has no work experience, her face and body are all that she has to bargain with. Your mother did what she felt she had to do. Based on the little you’ve told me of her, I feel it is safe to assume that she did it with as much grace as she could.”

Adrian smiled. “You’re right about that. She had a way about her; it’s the only way that I know to describe it. Her smile could light up a ballroom and have the men flocking to her in droves. For years, she had her pick of any man of the royal court. Her troubles began when she became pregnant with me, though we managed to live a few years in modest luxury before our plunge into poverty.” Tatiana took her seat across from him as he sank down in his chair. She did not speak, but simply rested her chin on her palm and listened. This story was one she knew would be hard for Adrian to tell; she would not make it harder on him by interrupting.

“My father did not want a pregnant mistress, and he certain did not want to claim me, so he pawned us off on someone else. Of course, a courtesan with a child cannot get the same caliber of man she could have before. The men became less and less connected, less and less wealthy, until she was mistress to a filthy, swindling merchant who abused her and treated her horribly. He forced me to work for him, stating that my mother’s duties toward him weren’t enough to earn our keep in the tiny hovel he paid for us to live in.”

“How awful for both you!” Tatiana couldn’t help but exclaim, her hand covering her mouth in horror. Her father had been harsh but he had never been cruel.

He shrugged. “We survived it. After he left us … those were the times when things became even more difficult. Finding work was difficult for a woman with no skills, and it wasn’t long before we were living in a one room apartment over a brothel.”

Tatiana felt as if she was going to be sick, but held it in check for Adrian’s sake. She would not lose control of her senses when he was doing such an admirable job of keeping himself together. In fact, his voice had taken on an almost monotone quality, as if he had purposely stripped it of all emotion. His eyes had gone darker, too, a thunderous gray overshadowing the clear blue. Tatiana shivered.

“My mother would hide me beneath a trap door in the floor when her clients came to call. I spent many of those years reading by the light of a candle in a dark hole, waiting for the sounds from above me to cease. I was twelve years old at the time, and becoming a man. I wanted more than anything to find work so that I could help my mother, to add my own coins to the little chest she kept hidden in her mattress with hopes that we would one day have enough to escape.”

“What did you do?”

“I am not proud of it, but I spent most of my time running the streets of Barony with the other urchins, stealing anything of worth that I could get my hands on; pocket watches, reticules, snuff boxes, hats, gloves, jewelry … there wasn’t a thing I couldn’t steal and sell to make a profit.”

Tatiana laughed, imagining a young Adrian darting about the streets, his grubby hands plucking the valuables from the pockets of rich fops unknowingly strutting about beside him. “I can only imagine.”

To her surprise, he smiled and laughed as well. “It is quite funny when you think about it. Did you know that if a rich lord were to pawn his favorite snuffbox, the proceeds would be enough to feed a family of four for an entire week? That includes milk, too, not just bread and meat.”

Tatiana knew all too well of the overindulgent ways of the rich, but did not want to say so just yet. She simply expressed an appropriate amount of amazement and allowed him to continue.

“Thankfully, those days did not last long. It took only a few years for her to decide that she’d had enough of living in a brothel. After awhile she realized that it was not exactly the best place for her to raise me, so she went about trying to find work as a maid. No one would hire her because of her lack of experience. After awhile, there was only one other place she could go.”

Tatiana’ eyes widened. “Oh God, no.”

Adrian grimaced. “Oh, yes. She took me by the hand one day after packing our bags, marched me out to the street to hail a hired carriage, paid the exorbitant fare for the long trip across town, and then proceeded to drag me up the front courtyard steps of Hawthorne Court and pound on the front doors. When the butler answered, she demanded to see my father immediately, threatening to call on his wife and introduce her to the lord’s bastard son if he did not meet with her. From there I can only presume what might have happened. I was taken to the kitchen and given something to eat and she was taken to a drawing room to wait for my father. When she appeared in the kitchen, she told me to carry our things and follow her. She took me to the servant’s quarters and told me that we were now in our new home. I had a room to myself, though it was no bigger than a closet and a clean place to sleep for the first time in quite a while.”

“So your father took your mother into his home as a maid?”

Adrian nodded as he began portioning out the food, filling their plates with meat, bread, cheese and an assortment of fruit. “And I became a groom in his stables. My mother explained that he was not claiming us. I was not his legitimate son. I was never to call him Father, only ‘my lord’. I was to never look his wife or legitimate children—a set of twins—in the eye or speak to them for any reason other than to offer them my assistance.”

“How awful to live within reach of your father and your siblings and not be given the same love and attention they must have had. I am sure they had everything. I cannot imagine how hard that must have been for your poor mother.”

Adrian scoffed, his jaw going hard. “My mother managed just fine. She was quite proud of herself and her little arrangement. And my siblings were perfectly ghastly little children. Particularly my half-brother. If Satan himself had come from Hell to claim him as his own son, no one who knew him would have been surprised.”

“Oh, Adrian,” Tatiana gasped, shocked by the anger she saw in his eyes. There was so much more to him than she could have imagined, so much more pain that she knew greatly outmatched her own.

Adrian sighed and forced a smile. “I am so sorry, my dear. I brought you here so that we could get down to the business of getting to know one another, not to bore you my sob story.”

Tatiana shook her head adamantly. “You did not bore me! I liked hearing about your past. I am sure that all your hardships have shaped you into the man you are today. Now I understand what you meant when you said that this house was your dream. How badly you must have wanted a home of your own.”

“I worked and saved to enter a pugilist’s academy. My instructor claimed that I was so exceptional, that I could become a professional boxer. It is how I earned the money to buy this cottage and the small plot of land it sits on.”

Tatiana’s jaw nearly scraped the table between them. “You were a professional fighter? I could never imagine you participating in something so violent.”

Adrian laughed between bites, a small bunch of grapes dangling from his slender fingers. “I assure you, that pugilism is about much more than just violence. It is a precise sport that requires commitment, finesse and a bit of showmanship. It is much like a ballroom dance, a test to see which man can be the most graceful as well as the most powerful.”

“You make it sound so glamorous,” she commented.

“It is in no way glamorous, but I did enjoy it. Still indulge in it from time to time for exercise. With gloves, of course,” he added when she gasped.

“Thank goodness,” she said, taking his free hand once again and tracing the tiny scars dotting his knuckles. Now she knew where they had come from. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your handsome face battered and bruised.”

“Professional fighting is no longer a part of my life, but it is responsible for aiding me in attaining my dream. There is something very liberating about purchasing a piece of land, a home, a place to call yours. I always imagined that I would marry and raise a family here.”

Tatiana’s gut clenched with longing at his words. “And now? Do you still wish to do so?”

His fingers tightened around hers. “More than anything.”

The gruffness of his voice and the intensity in his stare told her that he meant every word.

“Unfortunately,” he said after a brief pause, “all of that will have to wait until I return from Martinique. I do hope that I can persuade you to wait for me.”

Tatiana raised his hand to her lips and brushed a kiss across his knuckles before pressing his hand to her face. He cradled her jaw gently, his thumb tracing its contours before brushing over her lips. Tatiana shivered and covered his hand with hers.

“I believe your powers of persuasion are already working, sir.”

***

Adrian watched from the curricle as Tatiana disappeared into the small home nestled in the region of town inhabited by the Gypsies who had settled there. Roger had told him of this part of Cardenas and about the colorful history of Cardenas because of their steadied presence. While most were wanderers, a small group had chosen to stay and settle and over the years and their numbers grew. After he was sure she’d made it safely inside, Adrian snapped the reigns and led the horses back toward the more affluent side of Cardenas and the townhouse. He would have rather spent what was left of the night in his cottage, but found the idea of going back there without Tatiana distasteful. Already she had left her imprint there. She’d forced him to sit near an open window and read as she began helping him to set things to rights in the small home. He had hardly been able to focus on The Scarlet Letter, one of his favorite novels. Rather, he’d sat and stared at her over the top of his book, watching through the lenses of his glasses as she dusted and polished, rearranging the knick knacks on the mantle and even locating a stack of lace doilies and tablecloths in a linen closet.

“I should come back here one day and wash these,” she said, holding up a rose-printed tablecloth with a smile. “I saw a washtub near the kitchen door, and this would be stunning on the table.”

Adrian stood and took her into his arms, snatching the tablecloth from her grasp. “You are not here for that,” he reminded her. “This is my responsibility; let me take care of it.”

“Nonsense,” she protested, kissing the slightly crooked bridge of his nose. “I’m here, I want to help. You should let me.”

He’d settled for allowing her, but only if she allowed him to help as well. After an hour of scrubbing, washing, rinsing, and hanging linens out to dry, Adrian had taken her by the hand and settled her beneath a massive ash casting its shade over the grass. There, she had lain against him as he read to her aloud from The Scarlet Letter, which she claimed to have never read.

As the sun set over the top of the cottage, Adrian had wanted nothing more than to carry her inside and lay her down in front of the fireplace, treating himself to more of the rapture she’d given him the night before. The desire was there, in her eyes, too, but Adrian never pursued the idea. He needed her to know that he wanted more from her than that. Their night together was something to be cherished but so would be the days to come. He had already secured her promise to come again the next day.

He knew that she had her own duties to attend to, as he did to prepare for his voyage, but spending time with her was the only duty that kept his interest. Nothing else stirred even the slightest glimmer of joy or expectation.

He’d already let his guard down by telling her about his past … as much of it as he could stand to tell, at any rate. It was still more than he had ever admitted to anyone else, and he was glad he’d done it. How Adrian wished he had told her all of it; of the years when his father began to take an interest in him, even going so far as to take him into his company for dinner when his wife and children were out of the country. He realized now, after learning of his holdings in Martinique, that his stepmother and siblings had likely spent most of their time on the island. There were also holdings in America, but those were the property of the lord’s wife, not the lord himself. He’d shocked the court by taking an untitled American to wife, and then shocked them even more by acknowledging his bastard son and leaving him everything in his will in the event that Andrew, his half-brother, became incapacitated or killed.

Because of Andrew’s crimes against Barony, Cardenas, and the French government, he’d been stripped of all his lands and titles and everything was now Adrian’s. It seemed a paltry recompense for what he was truly owed. To have known and been known by his father was all Adrian had ever truly wanted. On the nights when he crouched beneath the floorboards of his mother’s brothel rooms, the sounds of creaking springs, moans, groans, and muttered words of passion floating down between the cracks, he often read—he’d been honest about that—but Adrian had also closed his eyes and dreamed. He dreamed of a father who would come to rescue his son and the woman he’d once claimed to love from a life of poverty and destitution.

During his maturity to manhood, he wished that Lord Forsyth had been there to teach him about the ways of a man with a woman. Instead, he’d had to learn from his mother, who had given him a quick and painful lesson. No matter how much Adrian wished, Forsyth had never come. He never rescued him, not from any of it. Adrian shuddered every time he passed that bedroom, and the many others he’d occupied with rich widows and even a few bored and adventurous wives.

It all left a bad taste in his mouth, and Adrian was glad when the mews behind the tight row of townhouses lining his street came into view. He was happy to be able to lose himself in tending to the horses before going inside and push aside the memories that always threatened to rise up and choke the life out of him like an overabundance of vomit.

It was no wonder he hadn’t been able to share those details with Tatiana; he could barely think of them himself without losing control of his insides.

When the horses were groomed and tucked away for the night, Adrian trudged into the townhouse to find its butler awaiting him.

“My lord, you have a visitor awaiting you in the drawing room. I informed him that you planned to be out for most of the evening, but he insisted upon waiting.”

“Roger,” Adrian sighed. “I will attend to him, thank you.”

He hurried to the drawing room, though not because of any desire to be in anyone’s company. All he wanted was to unwind in solitude and think over the events of the last two days in peace.

When he entered the room, he found Roger sitting in a high-backed, leather armchair, a glass of brandy clutched firmly in his grasp. Adrian supposed he had to be on his third or fourth drink, judging by the glassy look in Roger’s eyes.

“Roger,” he greeted his friend with false enthusiasm.

“Damn it all, Adrian, I wouldn’t have come for you if I’d known you would take so blasted long to arrive home.”

Adrian smirked. “I informed you that I had plans for the evening.”

“Are you plans concluded?”

“Quite.”

“Then upstairs with you and put on something decent. There is still time for us to have dinner before finding a friendly game at the club. Come now, do not argue, simply do what I ask. Trust me, friend, you will want an invitation to join this club and I am one of the few lords of Barony that could procure it for you. Quickly please, I am quite hungry and cross with you for keeping me waiting.”

By the end of Roger’s speech, Adrian knew there was no backing out now. Besides, he felt a bit guilty about keeping Roger waiting, despite the fact that he had no idea his friend was even coming.

“Give me ten minutes,” he conceded, hurrying from the room.

He rushed upstairs and looked in on his mother, whose companion informed him that Martha had remained lucid for the rest of the day after their lunch together, and was now sleeping peacefully. Adrian found that attending to the duty was harder than ever after rehashing the tale of his childhood to Tatiana that evening. It was exceedingly difficult to love someone who had caused him so much pain. He tried to remind himself time and time again that Martha had done only what she had to so that they could survive. Then he often wondered if survival was good enough. There were times, back then, when he wished he would just die, nights when his belly quivered with hunger, he watched the dark circles under his mother’s eyes grow darker and heavier each day, and he wondered why they didn’t both give up, fall down together and just die.

No, he decided, his mouth set in a grim line as he trudged up to his chambers, simply surviving was not enough.

As he dressed for the evening, he tried to think of Tatiana again, hoping that recalling their time together would brighten his mood. As he inspected himself from head to toe, he knew that this man—the one dressed in stylish silk knee breeches, tailcoat, cravat and jeweled tiepin—was not the man that Tatiana knew him as.

As he donned his top hat and slipped his ornate pocket watch into the pocket of his waistcoat, allowing the chain to show decoratively, he was reminded of a passage from The Scarlet Letter. He’d read it aloud to Tatiana that very afternoon.

No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.

Adrian turned away from his reflection and hurried down the stairs, too afraid to try to unravel the mystery of which man he truly was: the son of a lord or the son of a courtesan? The master of a grand estate, or a simple man who had worked his fingers to the bone for most of life in order to survive? Somewhere in his soul, he knew that he was both, though on one hand by circumstance, and by choice on the other. He’d chosen this, taking up his father’s mantle, when he could have just walked away from it all.

Now, he was left struggling with his masks, fumbling with which ones to wear and when. It was becoming exhausting.

Chapter Nine

The silence in the room was deafening. It was thick and clogged the air with tension, though Tatiana wished that said tension’s thickness was visible. Then, at least, she could hide behind its fog, invisible to the man giving her a once over from his seat near the window. He’d been there, whittling something from a hunk of wood, when she walked in. Ramon Angelo was much like Tatiana remembered him, swarthy olive skin made leathery from the sun, large frame hardened by years of manual labor—though a slight paunch was beginning to show in his middle and grew by the year—and a head of thick, black hair and matching stubble dotting his jaws. There was a bit more gray at his temples, but he was otherwise unchanged. Even the dour expression of disappointment he wore whenever he gazed upon her was present.

“What brings you down into the gutter?” he asked once an extremely uncomfortable length of silence had passed. Tatiana lowered her eyes at his directness, not sure exactly why she felt shame at his words. He had been hurt when she decided to leave to join Esmeralda in the palace. Tatiana secretly believed he only missed having someone to take care of him and his home.

“Can a daughter not come look in on her father?” she asked, her voice no higher than a whisper.

“You haven’t seen fit to come in months, can’t think of any reason you’d want to start now.”

Tatiana sighed and unwrapped her shawl from around her shoulders. She bustled over to the kitchen and started about making a pot of tea. She wasn’t thirsty or cold, but if she did not do something with her hands, her mouth might run away with her. “You look well. I trust you have been taking care of yourself.”

“No one else is going to take care of me.”

As she fed the fire, she’d started in the stove and set the filled kettle on to boil, Tatiana remained silent. Once she had sat saucers and cups out, there was nothing to do was wait for the kettle to scream. She turned to face her father once again. He’d returned to his whittling, his weathered hands wielding the wood and knife skillfully. Many of his carved figures lined the mantle.

“I’m sorry it has been so long,” she said. “Akira always brings news of you when she visits the marketplace.”

Ramon grunted but said nothing else. He continued to whittle, sending fragrant wood shavings fluttering to the floor with each swipe of his knife.

“Emseralda’s son was born few weeks ago. He is a beautiful babe. I am sure she would be happy if you were to come for a visit and see the child. And Aunt Raina would be happy to see you as well.”

Another grunt sounded from the corner just as the kettle screamed, but otherwise Ramon did not respond. By the time Tatiana had prepared the tea and brought it into the sitting room on a tray, he still had not moved or spoken. She settled into an armchair with the tea on a table between them and folded her hands in her lap. Silently studying the man who had raised her, she’d never felt more distant from him than she did at that moment.

“Is there something on your mind?” he asked without looking up from his project.

Would he not even look at her? To Tatiana, it reminded her of the shame he never ceased to express at her ‘abandonment’ of him and her way of life. “I just wanted to see you,” she said honestly, her eyebrows furrowing as she willed him to look at her, to show her in any way that he cared about her even a little. “I miss you.”

Ramon snorted and finally brought his gaze up from the wood between his fingers. His knife stilled as he pierced her with his dark gaze. “Do you now? Those are awfully sentimental words coming from a girl who ran away from this house as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels at the very first opportunity. What’s the matter; has your glittering new life grown tedious already?”

Tatiana lowered her eyes, knowing that his words were almost completely true. “Just because I wanted a better life does not mean I do not miss my old one sometimes. It does not mean I don’t miss you.”

“Then why don’t you ever come to visit me? Why is this the first time I’ve seen you in over one year? By the way, I have seen my newborn nephew. I visited the palace a few days after his birth with a gift and paid my respects. I was told you were out … probably at some fancy tea party or whatever the devil it is ladies in your circle do during the day.”

“Actually, I was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ramon interjected; rising to his feet and putting his knife and wood aside. “The fact of the matter is you left me behind, along with your old life. If you are here to tell me you’ve finally concluded that it wasn’t all as wonderful as you thought it would be, you can save your breath. I could have told you that in the beginning.”

“Father, please, can’t we just try to start over?”

“How exactly would we go about doing that?” he asked as he crossed the room, taking up the leather pouch that held his favorite tobacco.

“I don’t know,” Tatiana confessed. “But we could try.”

Ramon shrugged as he rolled the fragrant tobacco in its paper deftly. “You could start by apologizing for throwing my efforts to provide you a better life back in my face.”

Tatiana lost her composure then, and the fragile thread of her temper was cut in twain. “You mean by selling me to the highest bidder?” she challenged, hands coming unconsciously to her hips.

Ramon laughed as he lit his now rolled cigarillo with a flick of his wrist. “There’s the little spitfire I raised. I was wondering when the innocent daughter routine would end. Good, now we can get to the heart of the matter.”

“It was not an act,” she insisted, waving away the fragrant smoke as her father puffed on his cigarillo. “I had hoped that we could get past all of this—the past, our differences—but now I see that coming here was a mistake. I shudder to think what Mama would have thought of the way you treat me.”

Before the words had finished leaving her mouth, Ramon had closed the distance between them. The stinging slap came so swiftly, that Tatiana hardly had time to brace herself before she stumbled back toward the armchair she had previously occupied. She gripped the back of the chair to steady herself and glared at Ramon through eyes gone narrow with hurt and anger.

“Watch your tongue,” Ramon warned, pointing the cigarillo toward her, an extension of his fingers. “You have no idea what your mother wanted.”

“I know that she loved me,” Tatiana spat as she straightened, her shoulders squared. Despite her stinging face, she refused to appear ruffled by his treatment. “I know that she wouldn’t have bartered me to every well-to-do man that crossed her path as if I were a prized sow!”

“Your mother wanted you to marry well!” Ramon roared, his free hand clenching into a fist at her side. “It was her dying wish; she begged me to ensure that you were happy and taken care of. She knew that your beauty would attract the right kind of men and they could provide for you the kind of life a Gypsy woodworker could not.”

Tatiana clapped her hand over her mouth, filled with disbelief that her father would use her mother’s memory to bend her to his will. Bile rose up in her, swift and acidic and she felt as if she were going to be sick. “You’re lying,” she whispered, pressing both hands to her middle. “You are twisting her words to fit your crimes against me. I knew my mother. She would never have asked you to sell me to the highest bidder so that you could line your pockets with coin!”

Ramon sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Deep lines were appearing around his eyes and mouth. He had never looked older or more tired than he did at that moment.

“You speak of things you do not yet understand. Perhaps you will not until you have children of your own. I taught you how to care for yourself and your own home because I knew you were at a disadvantage, not having a mother and all. I might not have done as well as I could have, but goddamn it, I tried! And if you must know, I set a steep bride price for you because I knew you’d be worth it to the right gentleman. Your mother had high hopes for you and her dreams were my dreams. I knew that any man, who had worked hard for his wealth, wouldn’t mind parting with some of it if he wanted your hand bad enough. I only wanted to send a message to the men coming to call that you would not be wed to just anyone.”

Tatiana could do no more than stare at her father, stunned. He had never been so open with her, so honest. She’d never known that her mother wished her to marry well, or his reasons for such a high bride price. Tatiana only remembered being told to wear her nicest clothes when the suitors came to call and having to prance about the cottage serving tea, smiling and putting on airs for whoever had come to barter with her father for her hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me these things before?” she asked, tears springing to her eyes.

Ramon cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. He had never dealt well with crying females. “Because a good girl would obey her father without question,” he said gruffly. “You always were too independent for your own good, always asking questions, always needing to know why. You did not need to know; you only need to concede to my wishes as a dutiful daughter does.”

Tatiana shook her head. “Not once did anyone ask me what I wanted for my own life. Did it ever occur to you to do so?”

Ramon crossed the room and reached for the worn, brown leather coat hanging on the coat tree near the front door. “Of course not. Why would I?”

Tatiana’s shoulders sagged at his answers. Of course, he wouldn’t have cared what she wanted. No one ever had.

“Come, I will see you home,” he said as he opened the door and stood aside for her, effectively ending their conversation.

Tatiana knew there was no use in trying to continue. When Ramon wanted to, he could close himself off to her tighter than an oyster clasping a pearl in its confines. It was a trait he’d developed after her mother’s death. It was no wonder he never seemed to care for her or anyone else; he had closed himself off to all pain. As he unhitched his horse from the post near the back of the house and saddled it for the short ride to the palace, Tatiana wondered if he would teach her how to do what he did so easily if she asked.

***

Adrian paused at the entrance to the guest room in the southernmost wing of Largess Hall. He hadn’t been sure about coming, but duty dictated that he visit his half-sister and make some sort of determination concerning her fate. She, much like Hawthorne Court, Le Grove Plantation and its many inhabitants, and his mother, was now his responsibility.

He stared at the carved oak door, his hands thrust into his pockets, unsure of how he would greet her or even what he would say. He had heard such horrible things about Annette, who also went by the alias Dolly. While their brother was the true villain, her hands were not exactly clean in all of this. Adrian could hardly believe the story King Damien had told him of Annette’s incestuous love for her twin brother, as well as her aiding him in his crimes against women. Apparently, she had acted as a Madame of sorts, ensuring that the kidnapped women were cleaned up and shown off to their best advantage for selling. It was said that she was the reason Dorian had gained so much wealth from slave trading. She knew how to make even the plainest woman appear sexually alluring.

Knowing that he shared a bloodline with these despicable people left a sour taste in his mouth. That he was now responsible for such a wretched creature turned his stomach. He turned to King Damien, who was standing silently at his side, waiting patiently for Adrian to knock and enter.

“Do not worry,” the king said in hushed tones. “She has been told to expect you.”

Adrian studied the king, from his thick head of blond waves and matching, golden beard, to his astute, assessing green eyes. Rumors of the rakehell prince turned responsible king were proven true as Adrian laid eyes on a man well and truly suited to his role.

“Your Highness, if you do not mind my asking …”

King Damien chuckled good-naturedly. “Lord Wilshire, I know that we are newly introduced and you do not know me very well, but I do not stand on formality with those I hope to someday consider my friend. Please, feel free to ask me anything you wish.”

Adrian experienced a brief moment of shock that a king would wish to be friends with a man who’d once groomed horses for a living, but he recovered swiftly. “I was wondering,” he asked as politely as he knew how, “why a woman who has committed so many heinous crimes against Barony and Cardenas, not to mention the French government, is being catered to in the lap of luxury. That is to say, I have not experienced the hospitality of your guestrooms, but I daresay they are quite comfortable. More comfortable than, say, a dungeon cell.”

Damien nodded and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Ah. Yes, there is the matter of that. I have forgotten that you are not yet apprised of the entire situation. There is so much resting on your shoulders, isn’t there? I hope that I can help to ease that burden as much as I am able. My brother and I share a common goal in wanting to assist you as you acclimate to your new way of life.”

Adrian forced a smile, trying to be at ease in the king’s presence as he’d requested, but finding it damned hard. “I appreciate that, very much. King Serge has been helpful, as have you.”

“Please, sit with me a moment before we go in,” Damien offered, gesturing toward a set of wingback chairs at the end of the hall, perched on either side of a window, with a small end table covered with a royal blue table cloth and white lace overlay. “I will explain everything.”

Adrian obliged him, glad to have a reprieve from entering the room and confronting his sister. He still had no notion of how to treat her. When they’d settled into the chairs, Damien crossed one long leg over the other and began.

“A man by the name of Monsieur Isaac Prideux, who was raised on the plantation neighboring the one you now own, was able to shed quite a bit of light on the mystery surrounding Annette and Andrew, also known as Dolly and Dorian. Other than yourself, no one else seemed to know much about their backgrounds aside from the fact that their father was of France, though his father was British and thus the surname Forsyth, and their mother American. A grandfather in Barony passed the title and lands on to her, and because the title may only pass to a male heir and there were no other males in her family to accept it, the title was given to him. A strange and obscure tie to the province, but that it is how your father came to be here. He and his wife split their time between Barony and Martinique, working the lands and amassing quite a fortune. A few years after you were born, the now deceased Lord Forsyth sired the twins with his wife.”

Adrian nodded but remained silent. He knew most of this, but understood that Damien needed to collect his thoughts and place them in sequence in order to tell the story.

“According to Isaac, it was apparent to all who knew the Forsyth family, that something was terribly wrong with the boy, Andrew. He was a sullen and angry child, often violent toward other children and animals. It was even said that he delighted in drowning newborn kittens, though Isaac could not confirm having ever seen this happen.”

“It is true,” Adrian replied, calling upon all of the few memories he had of his half-brother. “Of course, I was not allowed to speak to or interact with my siblings when my mother procured employment and shelter for us at Hawthorne. However, I did encounter Andrew from time to time and he was quite a surly and moody creature. The maids and footmen often whispered that he was insane and the mistress worried that he would harm Annette.”

Damien sighed. “It would seem he found the perfect puppet in Annette. Once he learned to manipulate her, she became safe from harm at his hand. So long as she did his bidding, of course. After your father died and Andrew inherited the lands, he also inherited a ship, The Raven. Because of his interests on opposite sides of the world, he often took voyages from Barony to Martinique. It is said he was quite the tradesman as well and extended his journeys to foreign ports all over the world. Annette, seemingly adopting the lifestyle of a spinster, took to the seas with him. The two conducted an incestuous affair, though that is not common knowledge. It is a rumor that is widely ignored by those of the upper crust, but Annette confirmed it herself.”

Adrian shuddered uncontrollably and Damien laughed.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So,” Adrian continued, piecing all of the details together as he spoke. “Andrew travels the world and eventually discovers that there is money in trading in human flesh … women, in particular.”

Damien nodded. “You are correct. There is much coin to be earned, especially when you are trading in foreign women. American woman fetch a high price in places like India or China, and women from those countries fetch high prices elsewhere. It is simple supply and demand. If you have the best foreign stock, you stand to dominate the business. We both know that the business of supplying men with sexual favors for coin is one as old as time. It is quite lucrative and it is said that Andrew, or Dorian Blake as he is known in those circles, was the best in the business. Annette worked alongside him until we captured her a few months ago while in pursuit of her brother. We were hoping that capturing her would bring him to us, but it would seem that Andrew cares as little for her as he does for everyone else. Saving his own skin was his first priority.”

Adrian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He could sympathize with Annette for having been manipulated by their psychotic brother, but he did not know yet if it was enough to make up for her actions.

“There is one last thing,” Damien added, bringing him back to the subject at hand. “We were keeping Annette in the dungeons when we first captured her. It seemed the most fitting place for a criminal of her caliber. As time went on, though, a much larger problem showed itself. Annette is an opium addict.”

The king could have knocked him over with a feather, he was so stunned by that revelation. He had read about the dangers of opium which, when used outside of the medical trade under careful application of a physician, could prove quite addictive. Despite restrictions placed on opium trading by the Chinese, those outside of the country found ways to smuggle and sell the potent drug, which many mixed with tobacco and smoked to use recreationally.

“It makes sense,” Adrian said after digesting this. “If he traded anywhere in Asia, it stands to reason that Andrew would have access to opium. In fact, I would not be surprised if he were trading women for opium. It could prove quite a profitable exchange.”

“Exactly,” Damien said. “We do not know how long she was using it, but it became evident early on that she would not last if not attended to by a physician. While I know that she has done much harm to others, I did not see fit to allow a woman to die so painfully in a dark, dirty dungeon. I could hardly abide her mumblings and ranting, much less tolerate the sight of her, sallow, pale and covered in scratches inflicted by her own hand. Her face has only just healed from the wounds she gorged into her skin while suffering from withdrawal. She has been in this room under lock and key ever since, and I allowed a physician to attend her during the worst of her withdrawal. He eased her off the drug by dosing her with laudanum and slowly decreasing the dose over the span of a few weeks. For the past month she has been free of any and all drugs or spirits and is finally thinking clearly.”

Adrian stood, pacing a few steps away and then back. This certainly shed new light on the situation. In his studies, he’d learned that those addicted to opium often behaved in ways they normally would not. Was it possible that Annette was simply a victim of her brother’s schemes, one of which could have been plying her with opium to keep her submissive? It was said that an opium addict would do anything, no matter how heinous, to attain their precious drug. It would have been the perfect tool in manipulating her.

“You’ve given me much to think about,” Adrian said after a few more moments of pacing.

Damien stood as well. “I apologize, but there were things you needed to know.”

“Of course,” Adrian amended. “I am grateful for that. I do not wish to make any rash decisions, and knowing all of that certainly changes things. It was quite well done of you to nurse her back to health when you could have simply allowed her to perish. It would be no more than she deserved.”

Damien’s smile was genuine, but a bit sad as he pointed to something outside the window. Adrian followed his gaze and realized that they were looking out over the royal family cemetery.

“My father, King Adare, is buried out there among the kings of Cardenas’ past. Do you see his monument, there?”

Adrian nodded as he spotted what appeared to be the newest monument in the bunch.

“I often walk these grounds to that monument and gaze upon it; not to torture myself with the knowledge that he is no longer here, for my father was very ill in his last days and I am glad that he is done with suffering. I gaze upon that monument to remind myself of the most important lesson he taught me before he died.”

“What lesson was that?” Adrian asked when Damien paused, clearly growing emotional.

“Mercy,” Damien answered, his voice gone thick with emotion. “He was known as a fierce fighter and a stern judge, but more than that, he was known as a protector of the people. He was fierce and stern, yes, but he was fair. Even when he thought that my eldest brother, Lionus, would succeed him to the throne, he never forgot to remind me, his youngest son, how important it was to give chances to those who might not have received them from life. I find it ironic that my father would teach me, the third of his sons, a lesson such as mercy only to have it become the most important tool I’ve ever had to use as king. He never could have known I would rule after his death … how could he? Yet, I thank him for that lesson every day.”

Damien placed a strong hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Perhaps,” he continued, “this is Annette’s second chance. Your brother did not give her much of a choice, not even when they were children. He manipulated and used her and wielded opium like a weapon to control her. I think it is fair to say that now is our opportunity to show her the mercy she never received from Andrew. You can be the one to give her that chance. A new life, a new start, forgiveness … these things are within your power to give as her brother and, if you wish to be, her guardian.”

Once again, Adrian found himself floored by the genuine empathy and care he was witnessing in this man. Once a famed libertine, the third son of King Adare was not at all the man Adrian had thought he would be. In him, Adrian was fortunate to have found a friend.

“I thank you for your candor and your advice,” Adrian said as the two men shook hands firmly. “You are absolutely right. I will go in now and talk with Annette. I think it would be best if someone allowed Annette to give voice to what she desires for a change.”

Damien smiled. “A superb idea. I will leave you to it. Oh,” he added, just before he disappeared down the hall, “before you leave, I hope you will join me in my library for a drink. You may simply ask any servant to direct you there when you are done.”

“Of course.”

“And, if you don’t mind …” Damien trailed off, his face going red with seeming embarrassment. “I do hope you don’t mind if I ask you to autograph a few things for me.”

At Adrian’s stunned expression, Damien chuckled. “Come now, my days as a young ruffian are not that far behind me! I know The Professor when I see him. I am quite a fan of yours and have saved a few betting slips and a poster from your fight with Pretty Boy Bruno. The best fight of your career, they’re calling it.”

Adrian fought with all his might to stifle the laughter bubbling up in his chest. Here, he’d been wiping his palms on his trousers all morning because he was nervous to be meeting King Damien, and the whole time said king had been working his way up to asking him to sign some memorabilia.

“I would be honored,” he answered as austerely as he could manage.

Chapter Ten

Adrian swung the heavy door open slowly as the voice on the other side bid him to enter. After all, he had been told of his half-sister, Annette, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. A haggard, witch of a woman came to mind—one with the painted face of a harlot and manners of a tavern wench. He was not at all prepared for the sight of the woman in the massive, four-poster bed in the corner of the room.

Her frame was slight, and Adrian could see the traces of her recent ordeal all over her. The bones of her face stuck out against her thin, papery skin sharply, as did her collarbone, and Adrian suspected she may have nearly starved to death while fighting the talons of opium addiction. Food and water would have seemed like secondary needs to her, only the syrupy sweet smell of opium would have tempted her senses. Her gaunt frame was swallowed up by a pristine, white, and rather childlike night rail that buttoned all the way to her chin, framing her face in white lace. Hair the color of cinnamon hung to her shoulders, the last few inches of it still stained a gaudy red from hair dye.

Her wide, brown eyes seemed sunken into her face, and her lips were peeling and cracked. As Adrian approached and settled into a high-backed chair near her bed, he noticed the faint, flesh colored marks left across her face and the backs of her hands—undoubtedly caused by her own fingernails. She looked to him as if she had been through Hell and back again. Despite all that Adrian knew about her, he could not help but pity her.

“Hello,” she said in a voice tinged with a light French accent. “I was told to expect to meet my half-brother soon. I assume that you are him?”

Adrian nodded. “Yes, good morning, Annette. I am Adrian Wilshire.”

She blinked rapidly, seemingly taken aback. “Pardonnez-moi,” she said, “I have not been called Annette in many years.”

“If you prefer—”

“No!” she interjected with a slight smile. “I quite like hearing it again. It will take some getting used to, but I believe it is best to go by Annette for now and in the future. Don’t you agree?”

“A splendid idea,” he answered.

“I know you,” she said suddenly, just as Adrian was about to launch into the little speech he had prepared out in the hall. “Your face is familiar.”

“I served in your father’s house for most of my life,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Her eyes widened, as did her smile. “Ah, oui! Now I recognize you! You are the young groom that Papa favored.”

Adrian inhaled sharply. “Favored?”

Annette nodded, her expression earnest. “He did not know that we noticed it, but we did.”

“We?”

“Andrew and I,” she amended, lowering her eyes to the blue and white patterned bedspread covering her lap. “And Maman, of course. She hated the thought of my father’s mistress and illegitimate son beneath the same roof as his family, but when she tried to talk with him about removing you he would not hear of it.”

“He never showed me any affection or acknowledged me in any way,” Adrian said, searching his brain for any memory that would prove contrary. “Once, he told me that I’d done a fine job grooming his mare.”

Annette smiled and Adrian found that it improved her countenance greatly when she did. “That is as close to ‘I love you’ as you were ever likely to hear from him. He was not the most affectionate man. That he named you his heir in the event of Andrew’s death is most telling. He wanted you to know that you were loved.”

“He placed me in line behind my younger brother,” Adrian scoffed.

Annette shrugged. “Papa always said that Andrew was likely to get himself killed by his own actions. I am sure you’ve heard by now that our brother is quite mad. I believe he has been since the day we were born. The disease does not help matters.”

“Disease?” Andrew questioned with raised eyebrows.

“The pox,” Annette answered with a shrug. “I believe it is also called syphilis, but either way we French are blamed for spreading it. He has battled it for years—the sores, rashes, and pain—physicians believe that it causes his insanity but he will hear nothing of their treatments. I doubt he will live much longer. I do not know how I avoided contracting it from him, but years have passed and I continue in good health, and in that, I am fortunate. So, you see, Papa knew what Andrew’s end would be. He always meant for you to have everything that was his. Though Andrew is not yet dead, his crimes have placed you in your rightful place. I am grateful to see it.”

“Are you?” Adrian asked, genuinely wanting to know. “I know that you and Andrew were quite … close.”

Crimson blossoms appeared on her cheeks and her eyes began to water as she wrung her hands together. “I know that you say close when you mean intimate.” She sighed, her hands gripping each other so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. “Perhaps sometime I can tell you of how that came to be. I hope that when I do, you may understand me a bit better and not judge me so harshly.”

“I do not mean to judge you,” Adrian said gently. “I have heard of you, but do not truly know you. I will try my best to understand. That being said, you are my sister and that makes us family. At this juncture I would assume that you have no place to go and no means by which to support yourself.”

Annette shook her head, her eyes still lowered in shame. Adrian reached out toward her reluctantly, placing his hands over hers, which were still clutched tightly together in her lap. She flinched on contact, but did not pull away as she looked up to meet his gaze.

“I sail to Martinique in a little more than one weeks’ time. If you like, I can arrange passage for you on board King Damien’s ship. You can come with me, live at Le Grove if you wish. I can provide you with a monthly stipend so that all of your needs are met and you may spend your time as you wish so long as you promise me that you will not indulge in your old habits.”

Tears finally spilled over her eyelids and splashed her cheeks; she did not bother to wipe them away. “You would trust me, in your home, with your money?”

Adrian smiled kindly and patted her hand. “You are free to come and go as you please as long as you are honest with me about your doings and promise me that there will be no more opium. I can see what it has done to you and now that we have officially met, I would hate to see you lose yourself to such a vice again.”

Annette shook her head rapidly from side to side. “Oh, no. Opium was a cruel mistress and I am glad to be free of her at last. My thoughts are so much clearer now; I could never go back. I do not wish to.”

Adrian nodded and stood as Annette released his hand. “Very well. I will make all the arrangements with King Damien. He has released you into my care. You are no longer a prisoner of Cardenas. As for the French government, you need not worry about them or anyone else. Annette Forsyth and Dolly Blake no longer exist. When we return to Martinique you will be introduced as Anne Wilshire, a cousin from my mother’s side whose father recently passed away and left in my care.”

Anne’s smile widened and she clasped her hands together again, this time against her chest as if in prayer. “Oh, merci! I do not know how I can ever repay you,” she cried.

Adrian paused in the doorway and shrugged. “Simply live the life you were cheated out of, Anne. I wanted to be able to give you another chance to do it right. I know you will not let me down.”

“I will not,” she promised. Her sobs of joy followed him out into the hall.

***

Sunlight played off the prisms created by roaring ocean rays, glinting brightly as if shining off splintered glass. Frothy, white foam bathed the side of the ship cutting it’s swath across the ocean, its bow pointed north. The early morning air was chilly, and it grew colder with every mile that separated the ship from the warm, Caribbean waters it had come from.

From beneath the brim of a worn hat, dark eyes surveyed the water, their dilated pupils darting back and forth wildly, the whites cracked through with red veins. The cloying scent of the smoke wafting from his pipe filled his nostrils, mingling pleasantly with the smell of saltwater. He squinted against the brightness of the sun as it rose over the water, yanking on the brim of his hat and mumbling to himself distractedly as he resisted the urge to scratch at the painful blisters lining the trunk of his body.

As the sweet, precious opium rushed through his body, covering him from head to toe with a feeling of euphoria and wellbeing one couldn’t find at the bottom of a liquor bottle, Dorian focused his thoughts on the man who now owned everything that was once his. Title, money, lands, respect … all of it gone within the blink of an eye because of some secret clause written into his father’s will. Curse him and his conniving ways! Even in death he had thought to best the son he’d always secretly hated.

Dorian was not blind; during his childhood he’d observed the tender look in his eyes whenever his mistress or bastard son were near. Pride and love were there, and Dorian was never the recipient of such affection. When Lord Forsyth looked upon his son, there was only one emotion present: shame. No matter how hard Dorian had tried, the lord could only see his son’s failings. He had been too sullen, too angry, and when he became older, too brooding.

It mattered not now. The closer they came to the port of Cardenas, the closer Dorian came to his revenge. He was not long for this world, but he would be damned if he allowed the poison running through his veins take him out before he had a chance for revenge. He’d been bested once by those damn lady knights, made a fugitive from the law as well as an outcast in the society that had once been his playground.

Forced to sell his beloved ship, The Raven, he’d had to settle for the smaller brig. The Dolly was nowhere near as magnificent as the ship that had once been his pride and joy, but she was fast and dependable. She had served him well so far, providing the speed needed to evade the authorities as well as the storage space for the many bodies crammed below, as well as crates and crates of precious opium.

Dolly.

The image of his twin sister swam before his vision as he sank to his knees on the deck, swiping at the mixture of blood and pus streaking down his face from the open ulcer on his cheekbone with a handkerchief. If he had one regret, it was allowing the Cardenian king to take his Dolly hostage in exchange for a woman who had scorned him before running a blade through his middle.

Dependable, true, much like the brig named after her, Dolly had been there for him in more ways than one and Dorian found that he missed her, much to his dismay. What Dorian wanted, he often got, mainly because there was never anyone bold enough to stand in his way. That would apply to his half-brother, he decided as his limbs became weightless and his body hummed with peaceful calm. His mission before death was two-fold; find Dolly and restore her to her rightful place at his side, and destroy the bastard who had taken everything from him.

A shadow fell across his face and Dorian pried one eye open to find Geoffrey, his most faithful servant, standing over him, concern etched on his features. When everyone else had abandoned him, only Geoffrey remained. The others that worked for him were truly the scum of the earth, men who would do anything for coin. Geoffrey was his brother as if the two had been born of the same blood.

“Monsieur, you must go below to rest,” Geoffrey urged as he unceremoniously knelt to take Dorian by the arm. “You must not tire yourself out. These spells last longer when you tax yourself unduly.”

Dorian allowed Geoffrey to help him to his feet, wincing as the man flinched away at the sight of the ulcer on his face. He knew the feeling. He could not stand his own reflection when his body was riddled with pox and ulcers, and could not expect anyone else to.

“You are right, as always mon ami,” Dorian said as he leaned heavily on Geoffrey. The two neared the captain’s quarters quickly, where Geoffrey left him languishing against the headboard of the bed as he poured a healthy draught of white rum. “I grow anxious as we near Cardenas, Geoffrey. My mouth waters at the anticipation of revenge. It is too delicious for me to let go of life just yet.” Dorian accepted the rum and took a healthy swallow as he sank back against the pillows. “Worry not; I have much to do before I die. How is our cargo?”

“Two more dead this morning,” Geoffrey reported as he bustled about the room, amusing Dorian greatly with his feminine movements as he went about tidying the space. “But the others should arrive safely. It will be harder to sell them in Cardenas or Barony, but we are still in contact with many brothel owners who are interested in what we have to offer; particularly our more exotic offerings.”

Dorian felt the familiar stirrings of lust down in his loins as he thought of the Chinese captives held below deck. The foreign women would fetch quite a price, almost as much as the potent opium from the same country. The two together were a combination that stirred his blood.

“Hmmmm,” he mumbled as he chewed on the end of his pipe, his fingers flexing around it in agitation. “I believe I’ll have another sample of our cargo, mon ami. Without my Dolly on board, I find myself starved for feminine companionship.”

Geoffrey cleared his throat, jerking at his collar awkwardly. “Monsieur, do you not think … that is, all of the women have been inspected and found clean. You would not wish to risk infecting one of them, would you?”

He trailed off as he stared down at his shoes, shifting uncomfortably. In the past, Dorian would have railed at Geoffrey for his tactless question, for even daring to have thought to ask it. But with opium running through his veins, Dorian was much more lenient. He simply shrugged and waved Geoffrey off lazily.

“The solution is plain, mon ami. Simply toss the girl overboard afterward and have done with her. A man only lives once and, in my case, not for very long. Best to go out with flair, yes?”

Geoffrey didn’t bat an eyelash as he palmed the key to the hold below and slipped it into the pocket of his trousers.

“As you wish.”

****

“Would you believe that I have never been happier to see you?”

Tatiana laughed as Adrian pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly, casting her bonnet askew. “My goodness!” she exclaimed through her laughter. “What on earth could have brought on such a warm welcome?”

The two stood in the doorway of his cottage, framed by sunlight and warmth. The day was perfect, and Tatiana had decided the moment she awakened to cast aside all thoughts of her father. Going to visit him had been a mistake, one that she would not repeat. Desmond had dropped her off at the end of the lane while on his way to purchase an engagement ring for Lady Abigail. He had sworn her to secrecy, forcing her to promise not to tell anyone about his secret errand. He planned to surprise both Lady Abigail and his family by proposing to her publicly, at baby Damien’s christening ball.

Despite Desmond’s foolhardy mission, Tatiana had found his leaving the palace with a carriage the perfect excuse to ask for a ride and to be picked up when the day was done. She was looking forward to spending several uninterrupted hours with Adrian, whom she had been unable to stop thinking about all night. The way he’d opened up to her and revealed things about his past he normally would not discuss had touched her. More than ever, she felt as if destiny had placed her feet on this path, and for the first time in a long time, the words of her grandmother brought her comfort instead of annoyance.

“It has been a very long and trying morning,” he answered as he plucked the oversized basket she held over one arm out of her grasp and ushered her inside. “And you look devastatingly beautiful. A sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure.”

Tatiana glowed in the warmth of his compliment. She had chosen her clothing with vigilance and taken extra care with her hair that morning, winding a series of small braids around each other in an intricate pattern before allowing it to cascade down her shoulders. Her simple mauve dress was an old one from her time before living in the palace, but it was one of her favorites. The gold earrings she wore had once belonged to her mother.

“Thank you,” she said, electing to leave her hat on. “I was hoping that we could ride into the city today.”

“Oh?” he mumbled distractedly as he peeled back the cloth covering the contents of her basket. “What’s this?”

Tatiana smiled as she gazed down at the assortment of children’s toys piled in the basket: soldiers, dolls, spinning tops, balls. “Children’s toys, silly.”

Adrian chuckled. “Obviously. Are we expecting a few little guests?”

“No, but they are expecting us at Miss Jessup’s Home for Lost Children if you would like to come. My cousin usually goes once weekly to visit with the children, but she recently gave birth and is quite busy with her newborn son. I accompany her sometimes and she has asked me to fill in for her until the babe is old enough for a trip to the orphanage.”

The expression on Adrian’s face was one of both surprise and excitement. “And here I thought you merely wanted to go window shopping,” he said incredulously. “There is always something new and surprising to learn about you, isn’t there?”

He stepped forward and swept her into his arms, tilting her head back and kissing her soundly. “I’ve thought of nothing else beyond taking you back into the bedroom and having you to myself for several uninterrupted hours.”

Tatiana’s skin went hot and she melted in his embrace. “Well, it is a tempting offer,” she said, surprised at the husky tone of her voice.

Adrian nuzzled her nose with his before punctuating it with another short kiss. “It would be selfish of me to keep you from the orphans. But after …”

He trailed off, leaving no doubt as to his meaning. Tatiana released him reluctantly and allowed him to take up the basket and escort her from the house. As she watched him attaching his horses to the curricle, his sinewy muscles moving hypnotically beneath his perfectly tailored coat, she thought of those work-roughened hands on her body and flushed with excitement.

Her short time with Andrew had been passionate, but it hardly compared to this. Nothing had ever inspired the stomach-wrenching emotion and pride that she felt watching him perform such a simple task. As he straightened and reached for her hand to help her up into the vehicle, his grasp was filled with promise, one that Tatiana could hardly wait for him to fulfill.

***

Adrian allowed Tatiana to precede him through the entrance of Miss Jessup’s Home for Lost Children, content to simply watch her. The moment they stepped over the threshold, a child no older than the age of eight squealed with delight and rushed toward Tatiana, who dropped her basket of goodies and knelt to accept the child into her arms.

“Tatiana!” the little girl exclaimed, blonde pigtails bouncing against her back as she ran.

“Well, look at you little Miss Mary,” Tatiana cried, her fascination exaggerated as she held the child away from her and gave her a once over. “You must have grown at least a foot since the last time I saw you.”

The girl giggled and rocked back and forth, beaming proudly. “Who’s that man?”

Tatiana turned and glanced at him over her shoulder from where she still knelt on the floor, heedless of dirtying her dress. “He is a very good friend of mine who has come to meet you all. His name is Mister Wilshire.”

Little Mary stepped forward, her back ramrod straight as she executed a flawless curtsy. “How do you, my name is Mary,” she said with practiced charm.

Adrian stepped forward, unable to resist taking the little girl’s hand and kissing the back of it with flair.

“Adrian Wilshire, at your service,” he replied, resisting the urge to laugh as the little girl’s face grew beet red and she chortled loudly.

“Won’t you tell Miss Jessup that I am here?” Tatiana instructed as she stood and lifted the basket once more. “Esmeralda has sent me with gifts.”

Without preamble, Mary disappeared down the narrow hall at the run, her voice raised to mingle with the clatter of her bulky shoes as she shouted, “Miss Jessup! Tatiana has arrived!”

Tatiana turned and reached for his hand as the sound of more pounding feet sounded overhead. “Don’t be shy, come on,” she urged as she pulled him toward an open door at the end of the short corridor. “The children are always happy when visitors come.”

Adrian allowed her to propel him down the hall and through the door, which led to a dining area. Rough wooden tables and short stools lined the room, with a large rug at the center where a group of children played quietly. A group of older girls sat near the windows overlooking the orphanage’s yard, knitting or reading, as a cluster of boys around the same age frolicked outside, tossing a ball back and forth as they ran.

When the other children spotted them, the children abandoned their toys and the girls abandoned their projects. They converged upon them in a mass of grasping hands, smiling faces and loud chatter that left Adrian’s head spinning. Tatiana handled it all with grace and charm, greeting each child by name while handing out hugs and kisses aplenty. More children arrived—the pitter patter of feet Adrian had heard from upstairs—and soon the dining room as awash in a sea of excited younglings.

They ranged in age from two to fifteen, and to Adrian they appeared to be well cared for. In the doorway appeared a short, plump woman with a ruddy complexion wearing a smudged apron over a simple homespun dress, her cinnamon-colored hair slipping from the neat chignon at the back of her beck. Adrian guessed this woman was Miss Jessup, which was confirmed when the children began to call out to her and gesture toward Tatiana.

“Miss Jessup! Miss Jessup! Tatiana is here!”

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” Miss Jessup chuckled as she bustled into the room, parting the children like the Red Sea and making her way to the center of the crowd where he and Tatiana stood. “You’ll scare her off, and her guest too, with all your cackling like bunch of chickens!”

The littlest ones laughed and one boy even began strutting about in circles, his arms bent like wings. The others roared with laughter as he threw his head back and crowed.

“Hush now!” Miss Jessup urged before turning back to them. “How good of you to come,” she said with a smile.

“Esmeralda sends her love and promises to return to visit with the baby as soon as she is able. She sent toys for the little ones. Oh, and this is my dear friend, Mister Adrian Wilshire.”

“Bless her heart,” Miss Jessup said with a sigh, her hands coming up to her large chest. “That woman is a saint. A pleasure to meet you, Mister Wilshire, and welcome to Miss Jessup’s. Well, do come in and rest yourselves! Would you care for tea, or perhaps a little lunch?”

“Just tea, thank you,” Tatiana said politely.

“Tildy, come and pass these toys out to the little ones. Just one apiece, mind you,” Miss Jessup said as she plucked the basket from Tatiana’s hands before handing it off to one of the older girls in the room.

“Yes, Miss Jessup,” The girl said politely before leading the children to one of the empty tables. “Now, now, gather round and wait patiently. One at a time.”

Miss Jessup led them over to a table not far from the children and bustled back and forth from the nearby children, setting out tea and cakes. She’d just poured for them when a commotion broke out in the hall.

“Oh dear,” Miss Jessup said, her brow knit with worry. “Please excuse me.”

She bustled away quickly, leaving them alone in the room with the children. Adrian wondered how the woman moved so quickly on such short legs with a smirk.

“Quite a lively bunch,” Adrian commented as he watched Tatiana spoon sugar and pour cream into her tea.

She smiled as she stirred, the dark liquid in her cup growing lighter as the cream swirled to mix with the tea. “They are, but Miss Jessup takes good care of them. This is the only orphanage in Cardenas and these children are so fortunate to have her. Her husband once helped her run this place but he died a few years ago.”

“Poor woman,” he murmured as he took a sip of his tea. “How on earth does she manage alone? There are a lot of children here.”

“There are, but she loves them. They were never able to have children of her own, so she and Mister Jessup doted on their orphans. Now that he is gone, her daughter-in-law has moved in to help. She is probably upstairs with the babies; there are three infants here. There is also Frances, who works in the kitchen and prepares meals. The older children pitch in to help with the younglings, and Esmeralda and I try to come as often as we can.”

“I would like to meet this cousin of yours someday,” he ventured carefully. Adrian knew that family was a sore subject for her, as it was for him, but he also knew that if Tatiana was going to become a permanent part of his life, he was going to have to meet her family. She was going to have to meet his mother. The thought had panic welling up in him. What if she embarrassed him by confusing him with one of her former lovers or came to dinner wearing one of her scandalous ensembles? He swallowed it as quickly as the panic had come and told himself that Tatiana wouldn’t be put off by his mother’s behavior; she would be understanding, as she always was.

She smiled tightly but nodded. “I would like that. Someday.”

They were interrupted again as the children—who had all gotten their new toys—gathered around.

“Will you tell us the story of the mountain man and the gypsy?” one child asked, stirring a chorus of agreement from the others.

“Haven’t you tired of hearing the story?” Tatiana asked with a good-natured laugh. “I’ve told it to you at least one hundred times.”

“No, we want to hear it again!”

“We love the story!”

“All right,” Tatiana relented as she stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress before marching over to the rug. She sank down onto it gracefully, tucking her legs under her and covering them with her skirts as the children all gathered around, many pulling chairs up to the edge of the rug or standing because they couldn’t all fit.

Adrian stood behind them, hands in his pocket, watching in admiration as Tatiana told her story to her rapt audience.

“There once lived a wild man who called the mountains bordering Barony and Cardenas his home. The civilized world did not understand him and called him a barbarian because of his long, shaggy hair and beard. But he was kind, and only wished to live freely among the trees, flowers and animals—his friends of the forest. And so, he lived a solitary existence, in a tiny wood dwelling at the very top of the highest peak. He hunted for meat and foraged for wild plants to feed himself and enjoyed the blue sky above and green grass below more than he ever could the company of another person.”

Adrian folded his arms over his chest, his head tilted slightly as he watched her, her eyes lighting up from inside as she told her tale. For some reason, he found himself as intrigued by the story as the children were.

“One morning, he was hunting as he usually did, when he came upon an open green field. In the midst of that field stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.”

“A Gypsy!” one of the children in the back of the bunch cried out.

Tatiana smiled. “Yes, a Gypsy! She wore gold jewelry and colorful, flowing clothing, and her skin was the color of polished bronze. The huntsman took one look at her and fell instantly in love, drawn in by her beautiful dancing. She dipped and twirled among the wildflowers, her only music the whistle of the wind through the trees. The man was too afraid to approach her; too shy and afraid that she would think him a madman like all the others. So he turned and fled, deciding that if he saw her again, he might work up the courage to speak to her.”

“But he didn’t,” whispered a little boy sitting near the front, only to be shushed by the others.

Tatiana gave the boy an understanding wink and continued. “No, he did not. Every day, he hunted near the glen, hoping to catch a glimpse of her and every day he watched her dance from his hiding place in the bushes, still too afraid to approach her.”

“What did he do?” Adrian asked before he could stop the words from coming out. Several pairs of young eyes swiveled toward him and he blushed sheepishly. He cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting. Do go on.”

She flashed him a smile, her eyes remaining on him as she continued her tale. “One morning he decided that a grand gesture was just the thing he needed to show his love for the Gypsy. He set out early, before the sun had even risen and ventured from the top of his mountain to the valley below where the wild roses bloomed. When he had filled his arms with roses, he journeyed back up the side of the mountain, refusing to stop for food or drink until he had reached the very top. He did not care that the thorns tore into his palms, or the heat of the sun beating down over his head. He only knew that he had to endure until he reached the glen; she must know, she had to understand the love he carried in his heart for her. Finally, by the time the sun set, he had reached the top of his mountain. There, he walked to the glen and began dropping roses as he walked back toward his little cabin in the forest, leaving a trail for the Gypsy girl to follow.”

Did she come to him? Adrian wanted to ask. Did the wild man ever reveal his heart to her?

“He waited through the night, watching, wishing, and praying for any sign of her. Finally, when the moon was at its highest, she appeared from the forest, dressed in red from head to toe, the same color as the roses that had brought her to him. In her hand, she held a basket, which she’d filled with the beautiful blooms.

‘Are you the one?’ she asked him. ‘Are you the one who left this trail of roses?’

He stood, his hands shaking, his mouth as dry as an empty riverbed. When she stepped forward and gazed upon him with eyes full of admiration, he was finally able to speak.

‘Aye, my lady,’ he answered, ‘I left the trail of roses for you as an expression of my undying love. I have watched you dance every day in the green glen, too afraid to approach you for fear you’d think me a mad man.’

‘I could never think you mad,’ she said, placing her basket at his feet and taking both his hands in hers. ‘I know of you; they call you the wild man of the mountain because you live in isolation and freedom.’

‘I am a simple man,’ he said. ‘I can offer you no more than this cabin and the bounty of the mountains. That and the love of my heart.’

‘I will accept them on one condition,’ she said.

‘You may have anything your heart desires,’ he promised, dropping to one knee before her and placing his hand over his heart to show her that his words were true.

‘My freedom,’ she said. ‘I wish to always be free. As the wild rose blooms along the valley, I wish to dance, sing, laugh, and live freely in happiness. Promise me that I might live this sort of life, and my heart is yours for eternity.’

‘It will be as you wish,’ he said solemnly as he stood and ushered her into his cabin. There she remained for the rest of her days. Many claim to have seen her dancing freely among the mountains, others swear they have watched the wild man come and go from the valley, forever carrying the wild roses up the mountain to his Gypsy wife. Others say that on the day of her death, the wild man buried her behind his cabin, placing a wooden cross and handful of wild roses at the head of her grave. Many believe that this is when wild roses began to bloom at the very top of the highest mountain on the border, and in springtime, they can be found everywhere, blooming and spreading their petals in the sun.”

Chapter Eleven

“Are you all right?” Tatiana asked as they entered the cottage. “You’ve been so quiet since we left Miss Jessup’s.”

Adrian paused in the doorway, his hat in his hands, his eyes fixed on her intently. Tatiana shivered beneath his gaze, recognizing curiosity as well as desire. The sun wouldn’t set for hours yet and she still had time before Desmond would be expecting her to meet him at the top of the lane, precious hours that she intended to savor. Adrian closed the door and slid the bolt into the latch. He leaned against the door and continued to stare.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that story you told the children today,” he said softly.

Tatiana smiled as she removed the light shawl she’d been wearing over her dress and untied the ribbons of her bonnet. “Oh, it’s just a silly little story my grandmother would tell us when we were children.”

“Us?”

“Oh,” Tatiana replied slowly, choosing her words carefully. “My cousins Esmeralda and Morgana, and me, of course.”

“Were you close?”

Tatiana smiled, but her fond memories were tainted with sadness. “We were … once. Things have changed since then.”

“Won’t you tell me about it, about you? I want to know you, Tatiana, and I almost feel as if that story is special to you for a reason. The passion with which you told it was so real. I could feel it and so could the children. They whisper among each other than you are the dancing Gypsy woman from the mountain.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned her back to him, busying herself with folding her shawl neatly before laying it across the back of a chair. She didn’t hear his footsteps, but felt the warmth of his body as he came up behind her, placing his hands on the back of the chair and imprisoning her with his long arms.

“Tell me,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder through the fabric of her dress tenderly.

It was the least she could do after all he had told her. She had told him of her upbringing, but not much else and she knew she owed him at least part of the truth. After all, he had hinted of marriage on more than one occasion since they’d met and while the prospect frightened her, she knew that when he returned from his voyage, he would be more adamant than ever to discuss the subject of settling down together.

She turned in his arms, still caught between his arms. “It is hard to speak of,” she said honestly. “Morgana is dead.”

“Dear God, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice laced with genuine sympathy. “How did she die?”

“She took her own life over the man she loved. Morgana could never recover from the realization that he could not love her the way she loved him. She took her life and his along with it. After that there was only Esmeralda and I, but she …” Tatiana trailed off, partly because she wanted to choose her next words carefully, but also because emotion was choking the air from her lungs. She took a deep breath and continued. “Esmeralda married a man with means and had a child. She is a mother now and a wife with responsibilities. She no longer dances at the tavern where we once performed together, and our lives seem as if they are worlds apart. It is hard to feel as close to her as I once did. I know it isn’t her fault and I do not blame her. Her husband is a wonderful man and she deserves to be happy with him. I miss her, is all.”

Adrian nodded in understanding and kissed her forehead gently. “Do you still dance? At the tavern, I mean.”

Tatiana shook her head. “No, the Golden Dancer was sold. Esmeralda left it in her brother’s care, but he no longer wished to run it, so he sold it to the highest bidder.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Very much. I love to dance. I will admit, I am not as good as Esmeralda …” she laughed “… no one can dance like she can. But I enjoy the dance, the freedom it gives me. When I dance, I don’t have a care in the world.”

Adrian smiled and held her tighter, meshing their bodies together. “I could see that the night we met. You danced with such abandon and freedom. I enjoyed watching you.”

“That was the first night I’ve danced in quite a while. I do not get to indulge in it as much as I used to.”

“Will you dance now, for me?”

His request stunned her. She had danced for many spectators in the past, but never for an audience of one.

“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her swiftly. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

“No!” she said quickly before he could withdraw his request. Just then, she realized that she wanted to do it for him. Only him. “I want to,” she said, reaching out to him. He placed his palms in hers and allowed her to lead him toward a worn armchair in the corner of the sitting area. He went down into the chair at the gentle push of her hand against his chest and she backed away from him slowly, her gaze never breaking from his.

Light from the open window behind her cast her shadow across the wooden floor, the gentle breeze from outside licking at the white lace curtains so that they billowed in toward her. Removing her slippers, she kicked them across the floor, preferring to dance in her bare feet. With practiced flair, she brought one hand up to her hair and released it from its chignon, tugging on one large pin; the others clattered to the floor, knocked free by the heavy curtain that tumbled down her back.

Adrian leaned back in his chair and for once Tatiana was grateful for the spectacles that hid his eyes from her view. As much as she wanted to do this, she knew she could not possibly get through it if she had to witness the light of desire in his eyes as he watched her move. Tatiana had experienced lust and want in the eyes of many men before, but Adrian was the only man that had ever completely disarmed her, leaving her feeling stripped bare at all times. How was a woman to function under such intense scrutiny?

Abandoning thought, Tatiana closed her eyes and began to dance. Her movements were simple at first, subdued, as she swayed and twirled to the music she created in her mind. She imagined the golden dancer and its stage, the lone guitar player strumming out a slow, seductive rhythm as she writhed and shimmied across the floorboards in a gossamer costume of silks and gauze, her face covered from the nose down by a veil.

Soon, she lost herself in the movements, her hips undulating of their own free will, her back arched as if offering her breasts as offering to some unseen, pagan god. Only Adrian was there to see her, so her offering was for him. As Tatiana danced, she felt the heat of his gaze upon her. She opened her eyes to gaze back at him, to ensure that he knew she danced for him and only him. Her motions grew more daring, more sensual, her hips rotating and winding in a motion that captured his interest and held it, as the snake charmer holds the serpent in his sights. She danced as if she were the Gypsy on the mountain, free in nature to do as she pleased, forgetting the darkness that had come before Adrian and allowing in only light. It gave her the freedom she needed to dance as she never had, without restraint, and for the eyes of a man she was slowly coming to love.

When she ended the dance, on her knees with her arms high above her head, her chest heaving with rapid breath as she fought to breath evenly, Adrian was sitting where she’d left him, spectacles removed, eyes blazing like sapphires lit from within. His chest was rising and falling just as rapidly as hers, and in the quiet house she could hear his breath sawing in and out of his lungs; it mingled with hers as she fought for breath as well. She wasn’t certain what had happened between them, but she knew that she had bared herself to Adrian in ways she never had to Andrew. It was why she could gaze upon him with thoughts of love running through her mind and not feel as if she were going to be sick.

“Come here,” he said gently, his voice carrying on the stillness of the air between them.

Tatiana obeyed, stepping slowly and gingerly across the wooden floorboards. She paused when she stood between his knees and gazed down upon him in wonder. Through the strands of hair falling over his forehead, his eyes burned into hers, intent and filled with purpose. He reached for her, pulling her down into his lap so that she straddled his thighs. Inhaling deeply, he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. “That was … a beautiful gift.”

“You were right,” she said, clasping the back of his neck in her hands and stroking his hair as he rested his head against her bosom. “I always wanted to be that Gypsy in the meadow. When my grandmother told us the story, I dreamed of a man, a huntsman who would come and find me dancing in a meadow. He would be my knight, my savior, my one true love. He would pay any price my father asked because he loved me. He would carry me away from home and up into his mountain, never to return.”

She couldn’t help the sadness that crept into her voice as she thought of Andrew. In him, she thought she had found her knight. The disappointment that always stabbed her heart when she thought of him was lesser this time, as she threaded her fingers through Adrian’s hair tenderly. It hardly mattered now. Adrian pulled away a bit and stared up at her, his brow creased with concern.

“Who was he, Tatiana? Do not think to put me off this time. You spoke of a man before me, the first night we were together. You told me that he told you he loved you and that you truly loved him in return.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, unchecked as pain ripped through her gut with treacherous purpose. “He promised me the world,” she whispered, her voice a hoarse rasp as another tear joined the first. “He promised me everything I’d ever dreamed of and then he abandoned me, just months after we eloped. I woke up on the morning he’d told me was to be the first day of our trip around the world to find him gone and a letter on his pillow beside me. I later learned that he has another wife … his true wife. Our marriage was a sham; he only pretended to wed me so that I would …”

Tatiana could go no further. Giving voice to the words that would bring her shame was simply too much. Luckily, Adrian did not need her to speak. She could see in his eyes that he understood. His hands cupped her face, catching the tears that spilled from her eyes in the chalice of his palms. Wordlessly, he brought her head down toward his, lips parted for her kiss. With a sob, Tatiana latched her mouth on to his, clinging to him desperately, her anchor in the storm. On the morning that she had discovered Andrew’s letter, she’d been able to do no more than sit and stare numbly at the wall. Esmeralda had arrived hours later to find her in the same position. The outpouring of grief over Andrew’s abandonment and her heartbreak was happening now for the first time. She found that she could not stem the flow of tears shed for the lost innocence and tarnished dreams.

Adrian’s lips moved over hers gently, achingly slow, a healing caress that left her limp and languid in his arms. Heedless to her tears staining his face, he kissed her with so much tenderness and care that Tatiana forgot her pain. Pleasure seeped into her, warm and deep, as deep as her bones, as Adrian tilted her head for better access. The fingertips sliding down from her jaw to her throat with aching slowness brought a low moan from her chest. Adrian tore his lips away from hers and found her gaze once more, his hands still stroking—in her hair, on her shoulders, her neck, her face. Tatiana closed her eyes and gave himself up to his touch.

“My beautiful wild Gypsy rose,” he whispered, “trampled by one so cruel. Yet you survive, you live your life with such passion and purpose. Do not allow your spirit to be broken. I would hate to see you lose your ardor for love and for life. It is such a part of who you are. If you were the Gypsy in the glen, I would be your huntsman. I would never deny you the freedom you so crave.”

Tatiana opened her eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, more drawn to him at this moment than she ever had been to anyone else in her life. “I think I have found that freedom,” she said earnestly, not caring that baring her soul left her vulnerable to even more pain. She knew that Adrian would never hurt her. “I’ve found it here. With you.”

Adrian’s response was another kiss, an unrestrained exploration even more powerful than the first. Leaning into him, Tatiana parted her lips, inviting his searching tongue inside and greeting it with hers. They intertwined in a joyful dance, an intimate meeting between searching lips. With a low groan, Adrian brought his hands up to the buttons running down the back of her dress, working at them swiftly as he kissed her senseless. When he had bared most of her back, he pulled at the neck of her dress, snatching her chemise down with it and exposing her breasts.

The moment they sprang free Adrian was upon her, touching, kneading, tasting; Tatiana cried out at the hot slide of his tongue over the pebbled tips. Her hips ground into his unwittingly as she held him to her breast, her low whimpers swelling into cries of ecstasy as he drew the tip of one breast deep into his mouth and suckled hungrily as he pulled at the hem of her dress. His hands skimmed her bare calves and thighs before her found her core, palming it through her drawers. Tatiana squirmed and wriggled in his lap as his fingers glided over the fabric now soaked with the evidence of her desire, certain she would die if he stopped now.

His lips were relentless, sliding over her throat and shoulders then back to her breasts as he worked the heated flesh between her thighs until the frenzy of impending climax began to wash over her.

“Adrian!” she cried, falling against him as he finally dipped his finger inside of her drawers, the rough, calloused pads of his fingers sliding over slick and ready flesh. Two long fingers dipped into her honeyed channel and she shattered, falling apart as the all-consuming spasms rocked her insides and prisms of color swirled with pinpoints of light behind her eyes.

As she floated down slowly from the heights of bliss, Adrian made quick work of his belt buckle and the fastenings of his trousers. Tatiana slid her drawers down past her knees and to the floor before coming back over him, poised to take him inside of her.

“Say you’ll be mine,” Adrian whispered hoarsely as he grasped her hips, positioning her so that he rested at the mouth of her core. “Say you’ll wait for me.”

“Yes,” Tatiana cried with a shudder as he probed her entrance, teasing her with the promise of more. “I am yours.”

Adrian impaled her with one swift thrust, coming to rest so deep inside her body that Tatiana hardly knew where he ended and she began. They moved as one, flesh against flesh, soul intertwined with soul. As she gripped his shoulders and rode the waves of a second climax, she knew that their promises could never be undone now that they had been sealed in a physical bond. His every thrust inside of her was possessive, his blazing eyes swirling with flashes of silver lightning as he staked his claim upon her. His tongue was hot against her skin as he devoured her, his lips branding her forever as his. As he brought her down on the rigid length of him one last time and shuddered in completion against her, filling her with the warm gush of his seed, Tatiana knew that she never wanted to belong to anyone else.

****

“You’ve been absent quite a lot this week,” Esmeralda commented over tea that evening in the sitting area adjacent her and Damien’s chamber.

Tatiana froze, her cup halfway to her lips, words caught in her throat. She hadn’t realized when Esmeralda invited her up to her chambers for tea and dessert after dinner that she would be subjected to the third degree. As badly as she wanted to tell her cousin about Adrian and the possible new turn her life was about to take, Tatiana was reluctant. She was not ready yet and knew that if Esmeralda started asking questions she would only be able to withhold the truth for so long.

“The children were quite happy to see me today,” Tatiana hedged as she lowered her eyes to the contents of her teacup. “They send their love and cannot wait to meet baby Alex. Perhaps I should take Leila with me next visit; they always love playing with her.”

Esmeralda nodded, but was studying Tatiana intently over the rim of her mug. “Tatiana, please. Will you not tell me what is going on in your life? You’ve been so secretive lately.”

“There is nothing to tell,” Tatiana replied with forced laughter. “I am certain you only think I’m being secretive because you haven’t seen much of me recently. I merely wanted to give you time to recover from childbirth and become better acquainted with your new son.”

Esmeralda sighed as she reached for her plate of raspberry-topped lemon caked dusted with sugar and topped with cream. She speared a raspberry with her fork and studied it thoughtfully.

“I suppose you are right. I’ve missed you terribly is all. I feel as if we never talk as we used to. I miss you, Tatiana.”

Esmeralda’s eyes were so wide and earnest as she lifted them to look at her that Tatiana felt guilt down to the core of her being. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching across the space between them to pat Esmeralda on the knee. “It is hard sometimes, being here. You are busy with your husband and family and being queen, and of course Desmond has Lady Abigail now.”

“Ugh,” Esmeralda grunted in a very unladylike manner. “That girl will ruin him. I wish that Damien would intervene but he says it is best for us to stay out of it. Puppy love, he calls it. He says it will pass but I am not so sure.”

Tatiana thought of the large sapphire Desmond planned to present to Abigail at Alex’s christening ball and cringed.

“I would not be so sure of that,” she hinted, caught between not wanting to betray Desmond’s trust and wanting to be honest with her cousin. “He seems quite serious about pursuing her.”

“I know,” Esmeralda mumbled between bites. “I suppose we can only hope that she will lose interest soon. It is a horrible wish, but Desmond’s heart will heal. I have invited several eligible ladies to the ball. Perhaps one of them will catch his eye.”

Not likely, Tatiana thought as she took a bite of her own dessert. “I am very excited about the ball,” she admitted. It was true. In the morning, she would endure another fitting to ensure that the adjustments made on her gown were just right.

“Truly?” Esmeralda asked, her expression softening as she smiled. “I’m so glad to hear it. I worried that I had gone too far by pushing you to come. I know that you have distanced yourself from the court with good reason, but I’ve have so missed having you there. Many people have, believe it or not. Your appearance will cause quite a stir.”

Tatiana laughed. “I am sure it won’t be bad as all that. Everyone is coming to catch a glimpse of Cardenas’ next king. No one will be looking at me.”

“We will see,” Esmeralda said with a secretive smile. “I have it on good authority that Damien has invited a very special guest to the christening and ball. He is quite excited to introduce us to him.”

“Really?” Tatiana asked as she worked to fill her fork with all three layers of her delicious dessert. “Who?”

“A lord of Barony,” Esmeralda replied. “I believe his name is … oh, what was it? Ah, yes! Lord Adrian Wilshire of Hawthorne Court.”

Tatiana gasped, lodging a whole raspberry in her throat. She coughed and gasped for air as Esmeralda leapt to her feet swiftly and began pounding her back with her palm.

“Are you all right?” she asked as Tatiana gasped for breath, her head reeling as she tried to understand what she had just heard. After a few more coughs, she was able to swallow the raspberry and draw air into her deprived lungs.

“Here, sip some tea,” Esmeralda encouraged, placing her cup in her hands.

Tatiana took her time, sorting through her thoughts as she sipped the lukewarm liquid. Lord Adrian Wilshire? Could it be the same Adrian, her Adrian? Impossible!

“I’m fine now,” Tatiana croaked between sips of tea. “Finish telling me about Damien’s guest.”

“You are certain that you’re all right?” Esmeralda prodded, her brow knit with worry. “Perhaps you should lie down.”

Tatiana shook her head and cleared her throat. “No, really,” she said her voice clearer this time. “I am fine.  Go on, please.”

Esmeralda nodded reluctantly and continued. “Well, Damien is quite enamored with Lord Wilshire. According to the letter of introduction Serge sent ahead of Wilshire’s arrival, the man was a servant in his father’s household until just a few months ago. Apparently … oh, dear.” Esmeralda’s eyes grew wide and her face drained of all color. “Oh no, I cannot believe … oh, I’ve been so foolish, I did not even realize. Please forgive me, Tatiana, for only now putting two and two together.”

Tatiana straightened, curiosity pulling on her insides. She couldn’t possibly know about Adrian, could she? Not her Adrian.

“What is it?” Tatiana asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

“It is all very complicated but I will try to explain without upsetting you. Lord Adrian Wilshire is Andrew’s half brother.”

Dread began pooling in her middle as Esmeralda’s words settled in her gut. “I … I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“Remember, I told you Lord Wilshire was once a servant in his father’s house? Well, it just dawned on me that the former lord of Hawthorne Court’s name was Lord Forsyth. Damien mentioned that the man owned properties in both Barony and the island, Martinique, and that Lord Wilshire was travelling there now to inspect his newly inherited plantation. Apparently, when Andrew, posing as his alias Dorian Blake, was branded an outlaw by the French and Baronian government, all of his titles and lands became Wilshire’s as it was written in the deceased Lord Forsyth’s will. He wished to acknowledge his illegitimate eldest son in the event that Andrew was killed or lost control of the titles and lands. Oh, dear, I really had not put all together until now. Here I’ve been babbling like an idiot about meeting this man. You must think me such a fool!”

Tatiana’s head was spinning with what she had just learned. It all made sense, she realized as she remembered the night they’d met. Adrian and the other gentleman he’d arrived at the celebration with were much too well dressed. They had not blended well with the other partygoers at all. The pieces that Esmeralda had given her fit perfectly with the ones she’d gotten from Adrian. The father that had once shunned him had secretly acknowledged Adrian in his will and given him everything.

It seemed like the perfect ending to Adrian’s tragic story, so why would he withhold all of the truth from her? Because a man who withholds the truth has something to hide, she told herself as anger welled up so swiftly she could hardly contain it. Of course, he hadn’t told her about his life outside of their time together in the cottage; he never intended for her to know of any of it. Like his brother, Adrian intended to use her for his own needs and discard her when he was finished. What was worse was that Tatiana had refused to trust her instincts and fallen headfirst into the same trap … again! Embarrassment and shame washed over her until she thought she would die from it.

“Tatiana?” Esmeralda’s voice intruded upon her frazzled thoughts, reminding her that she had not responded to Esmeralda’s plea for forgiveness. “Are you all right? Please tell me you are not angry. You don’t have to attend the ball if facing one of Andrew’s relatives is too hard for you. If it’s any consolation, Lord Wilshire was raised separately from his brother and knows nothing about him other than his most recent crimes. I am certain he finds Andrew’s behavior as repugnant as we do.”

Tatiana fought the urge to laugh in Esmeralda’s face. Of course, Adrian did not find Andrew’s behavior repulsive; they were two sides of the same coin.

“I will be fine,” Tatiana said with a forced smile. “And I am still coming to the ball,” she added with a firm nod. She had every intention of going to the ball and seeing Adrian’s face when he realized that she was not just some Gypsy wench to be tossed over and forgotten. She was the cousin of a queen! She was once the belle of the ball and the jewel of the royal court. On the night of Alex’s christening, Tatiana would once again resume her reign with her head held high. She could think of no greater victory than to see the look on Adrian’s face when he realized what he had done. Perhaps she could even make him squirm by threatening him with retribution from the king. The idea brought a wide smile to her face.

“Nothing would keep me from it,” she murmured as she smeared a dollop of cream from her plate with her finger and brought it to her lips. It was the sweetest she’d ever tasted.

Chapter Twelve

Adrian swiftly closed the small, black jeweler’s box in his hands and slipped it into the breast pocket of his coat before bidding the person knocking on his door to enter. He had purchased the ring days ago for Tatiana, but was not yet ready for anyone to know of his potential engagement. He wanted her to be the first to lay eyes on the glistening blood red ruby set in gold and rimmed in diamonds resting against his heart. He had chosen it especially for her, his wild rose.

He snapped to attention as Martha entered the room, her eyes showing the blessed clarity of lucidness. Adrian sighed with relief and swept forward to greet her.

“Mother,” he murmured as he kissed her cheek dutifully. “You look well this evening.”

Truly, since their arrival in Cardenas, she’d been better than she had been in ages. Her color was good, her eyes were cheerful and she was even dressed in one of her favorite silk night rails and matching dressing gown. She was feeling better than ever and it showed.

“Not as well as you,” she murmured as she circled him, eyeing his formal court attire with approval. “You’ll be the handsomest man at the ball tonight … besides young Prince Damien of course. Mustn’t steal focus from the babe.”

Adrian chuckled. “I am sure the baby prince is in bed by now, though he was quite active during the ceremony.”

Even from Adrian’s seat nearly halfway back from the cathedral’s altar, he’d been able to observe the way Damien II squirmed and writhed in his mother’s arms as he was presented to the court and sprinkled with holy water. When the cold liquid slid down the child’s face, he wailed in anger, prompting his father to joke that he was practicing his battle cry. This, of course, prompted laughter from anyone within hearing distance as well as whispers repeating the joke rippling down the aisles.

Adrian had spent most of the ceremony staring through the stained glass windows and thinking of Tatiana. She had not come to him since the night she had danced for him, and he was worried. The ruby ring was burning a hole in his breast pocket, but he would not let it out of his sight lest Tatiana make an appearance unexpectedly. He decided to drive his curricle past her home after the ball this evening. He was merely going to be polite, shake a few hands, greet the King and Queen, and then leave as soon as it could be considered polite to do so.  He did not want to alarm her, but he’d missed her and he was concerned that something was wrong. Besides, his voyage was in three days and he had to see her before then. He could not sail to Martinique without knowing that the ruby ring was on Tatiana’s finger, a promise tying them together until he could return.

“Well, try to enjoy yourself,” Martha urged as she dutifully straightened the red and gold sash slashing across his torso, the colors representative of Barony. The decorative sword, military-style jacket with epaulets in crimson and gold with matching gold braid, silk knee breeches, polished boots, and chin-high neck cloth were the staples of the traditional court dress of Cardenas and Barony. It made him uncomfortable but like everything else that had been thrust upon him since gaining his title, he would endure it.

“I will,” he promised before taking her arm and walking her back to her chambers. “Do not stay up too late,” he warned.

“I have every intention of doing just that,” she teased. “I have a scandalous novel and pot full of chocolate to get through. After all, I want to hear all about the ball when you come home.”

“Very well. Have a pleasant evening.”

Adrian left his mother, glad that they were getting on so well. It had been hard, cultivating some sort of civil relationship with her after all they had been through. Her forgetful episodes made it worse. He never knew when she was going to revert to the days of his childhood. There was no telling what she could do or say that would remind him of their broken past.

Shrugging off those morose thoughts, Adrian walked around to the mews where his curricle was waiting and hitched, glad he had decided to drive in the open vehicle and enjoy the evening air. Roger had invited him to share his carriage, but Adrian declined. Roger was escorting a wealthy widow to the ball and Adrian did not want to interfere with any amorous plans his friend might have for the evening. Besides, he had an errand to run afterward that required he drive himself.

When he arrived at the palace, he was pleased to see that being on time rather than fashionably late ensured he would not have to wait so long to pull his curricle up to the entrance and go inside.

He was entranced by the opulent beauty of Largess Hall from the moment he stepped over the threshold. It was hard not to gawk at the domed, painted ceiling of the foyer, the gilded frames cradling painted images of the King and Queen, or the veined marble floors, but Adrian managed to observe his surroundings without letting on that he was unused to such lavishness. All it took was for one person at a gathering to notice him looking like a fish out of water before everyone had guessed who he was. Hopefully, tales of his rise to wealth had not traveled as far as Cardenas’ court just yet.

Adrian paused before the footman guiding him to the ballroom could steer him down the hall to his right. The portraits of King Damien and his queen had caught his eye. He hadn’t been privileged to meet the queen during his last visit, and had been too nervous to notice the portraits then. Now, as he gazed upon the Queen of Cardenas, Adrian was struck with the thought that there was something familiar about her. The features were strong and sharp, her looks exotic and dark, much like … Adrian shook his head and told himself he was being ridiculous. He missed Tatiana so much that he was seeing pieces of her everywhere. He vowed to remedy that before the night was over.

“Right this way, my lord,” the footman said, clearing his throat after Adrian had gawked overlong at the portrait.

Adrian followed, tearing his eyes away from the portrait. Soon, the soft buzz of conversation and clinking glasses could be heard, and within moments, he was standing at the top of a balcony overlooking the palace’s massive ballroom. As he stood in the short line that led toward the right side of a double, curved staircase leading down to the ballroom, he blinked several times to adjust himself to the brightness of the room, which was ablaze with the light of hundreds of candles. The gleam of polished gold candelabras, white floors veined in soft yellow, and gilded moldings etched into carved white paneled walls gave everything around him an ethereal haze, as if he were walking through a dream. The smell of flowers was soft and inviting, mingling with the tantalizing aroma of food. Adrian was glad when his name was announced and he could descend into the ballroom. The moment his feet left the bottom step, King Damien was at his side, a wide smile on his face.

“There you are,” he said as the two shook hands. Adrian bowed formally, a gesture which was cut short when Damien stepped forward to drape an arm across his shoulders. “Little Alex is just about to be taken up by his nanny, but I wanted to introduce you before he goes.”

“I’d be delighted,” Adrian said, taken aback that King Damien would even care for him to see his son. It would seem that their visit earlier that week had had a greater impact on the king than Adrian thought.

He allowed Damien to lead him across the ballroom, pausing every few feet as members of the court stopped to bow or curtsy and congratulate the king on his newly born heir. The crowd parted as they neared the other side of the room to reveal the queen, seated upon a cushioned throne and cradling the babe against her. Adrian’s eyes widened as he came face to face with a pair of the most unusual eyes he’d ever witnessed. Amber. Yellow Gold. Like a wolf, or a topaz stone or … the old Gypsy woman from the party, Tatiana’s grandmother!

Surely, he was seeing things, he reasoned as he quickly recovered and bowed graciously. This woman could not be related to Tatiana. She was the Queen of Cardenas for crying out loud. Yet, those dark, exotic looks didn’t lie. The swarthy olive skin, dark hair, almond-shaped eyes and, most importantly, their yellow-gold hue, smacked of Gypsy blood. In fact, this woman was the spitting image of the old Gypsy fortune-teller, minus the lines and haggardness of age.

“Your Majesty,” Adrian managed to choke out. “It is lovely to meet you. I am pleased to congratulate you on the birth of your son. He is a beautiful child.”

“Thank you,” the queen replied graciously, inclining her head politely. Just then, the babe began to squirm and cry. “Oh, dear. Damien, I should get him up to bed myself. He is quite restless tonight; all of the activity I’m afraid. I will return shortly.”

Damien assisted his wife to her feet, pausing to kiss her affectionately before ruffling his son’s blond hair. “Hurry back,” he whispered before releasing her from his grasp, the light of love emanating from his eyes.

“Your wife,” Adrian began, his eyes still trained on the queen’s back, “she has the most unusual eyes.”

“Say now, eyes on me, friend,” Damien said with a good-natured chuckle.

Adrian flushed and met the king’s gaze. “My apologies. She is, of course, beautiful, but I meant no harm.”

Damien shrugged. “She gets that reaction quite often from people who have never met her. It is an unusual color. I’d never seen it before until we met.”

Adrian wanted nothing more than to ask the king how that meeting had occurred. Rumors abounded that Cardenas’ queen was a princess from a distant, exotic nation; no one seemed to know where and after awhile, no one seemed to care anymore.

“I have seen it once before,” Adrian remarked.

“You will have to tell Esmeralda about it when she returns. She always laments the color; she is often embarrassed by the attention.”

Esmeralda.

Adrian had just accepted a glass of sherry from a passing footman and was grateful that he had not sipped yet. Otherwise, he would have choked.

Esmeralda was the name of Tatiana’s cousin.

Esmeralda was the queen of Cardenas.

Her eyes were the exact same color as Tatiana’s grandmother’s eyes.

But Tatiana was a Gypsy, which had to make Esmeralda a Gypsy as well.

Adrian’s head spun with the weight of the thoughts pressing down on his mind. Perhaps the family tie was a distant one. Perhaps the two had never even met or were estranged. It would make sense for the king to want to hide his wife’s unusual lineage from the royal court. A king taking a Gypsy for his bride was unheard of.

He was being ridiculous. His conclusions were farfetched at best and he was stabbing in the dark. It was best to try to forget about it for now and enjoy the evening.

“Oh, will you excuse me?” Damien’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I can see my mother gesturing to me from across the room. She is the mastermind behind this party, you know. I’m sure it is merely some small kitchen disaster.”

“Do not worry over me,” Adrian said politely, his smile tight. “I will be fine.”

“Good man.”

Damien patted him once on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts again. He downed his sherry quickly before reaching for another, grateful for the warming sensation spreading from his insides. He wasn’t sure when Roger had arrived, but suddenly his friend was at his elbow, his eyes dancing with excitement.

“Good of you to come, Adrian,” Roger said as the two shook hands. “You’ve arrived just in time to see her make her entrance.”

Adrian frowned, inspecting a scuffmark on the toe of his left boot. “Her?”

“Ah, my friend, if you are ever privileged to attend a ball or party while in Cardenas, pray that she chooses to come. The social butterfly of the court, the diamond of high society, the belle of the ball, a woman so beautiful, her looks are said to rival even the queen’s. Though, that is stretching it a bit. I like to think they are quite matched in beauty. It makes sense, really, seeing as how they are cousins.”

Adrian perked up at this bit, his eyes shooting up to the balcony and curving stairs. “Cousin?” he muttered dumbly, his palms breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Prepare yourself to fall madly in love and have your heart stepped on by a goddess. She is untouchable and, from what I hear, hasn’t been to a ball like this in months. Tonight is her grand reappearance. Aside from the crowned prince’s christening, her appearance here tonight is the main event of the evening.”

Adrian’s retort was caught in his throat as the footman standing on the balcony cleared his throat and bellowed, “Announcing Lady Tatiana Angelo.”

A hush fell over the crowd as nearly every head swiveled toward the front of the room where a figure in purple satin struck a dramatic pose in front of the balustrade, before gliding elegantly down the staircase. If Adrian hadn’t heard the name with his own ears, he would hardly believe it to be her. Like the other women present, her gown was one in a style centuries old, with full, fluffed skirts, tiny, cinched waist, and low, square neckline pressing her beautiful breasts upward in an artful display of flesh. Her dark hair was piled high on her head in a stunning arrangement of curls, with one fat, sausage-like coil draped over one creamy shoulder. Within her locks was nestled a headpiece dotted with clear jewels and exploding with plum-colored feathers, the height of which was extraordinary. Diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, and even from this distance Adrian could see that her complexion was enhanced by cosmetics.

Roger smiled at his open-mouthed expression, clapping him on the back with a chortle. “The infatuation has begun,” he joked. “Never fear, we have all fallen prey to Lady Tatiana’s stunning beauty. As I said, she is untouchable. There was quite a scandal a while back, if I recall correctly. It was after the fallout that she disappeared for a bit, but here she is, as magnificent as ever.”

“Yes,” Adrian murmured, a red haze of rage slipping over his vision as he watched her, slipping through the crowd as if floating on air, giggling coquettishly as the young lords rushed forward to greet her. His hands shook as she swatted at one of them playfully with her painted fan before snapping it open and concealing the lower half of her face flirtatiously.

Games! Here, he’d been worried about her, sick with love and longing and all along she’d been playing him for a fool. It made sense now, her reluctance to speak of her family. She had no intention of waiting for him or allowing him to become a permanent part of her life. The eager, love struck dimwit made for the perfect dalliance. A lady of the court on the prowl; that was what he saw as he watched her make her way from man to man, smiling, laughing, basking in the glow of so much attention like every other painted porcelain doll in the room. Yes, she looked lovely, more beautiful than ever, in fact yet, her getup and proximity to the very kind of life he despised reminded him that she was no different from anyone else. Just. Like. Them.

He stood, watching as she took a gentleman’s arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor for a waltz, at war with himself on how to proceed. Would she even notice him if he stood in front of her? Would she speak to him, pretend to care, at least feign remorse or guilt?

He wanted to run, but more than that he wanted to confront her, to ensure she knew before the night was over that he was on to her, had exposed her for what she really was. Her hold over his heart meant nothing, and he would show her just how little he thought of her and her petty little games.

Adrian folded his arms behind his back and edged closer to the dance floor, ignoring Roger when he asked where he was going. He would explain later. Right now, he feared that if he spoke to anyone right then, they would experience the sharp side of his tongue and he was in no mood to have to apologize for rudeness. The only person deserving of his wrath was in his sights, dancing entirely too close to another man and laughing entirely too loudly. He would reserve it all for her.

****

Tatiana skirted the edge of the ballroom, fluttering her painted fan rapidly before her face,

hoping to seek relief from the stifling heat. The evening had been even more fun than she could have hoped, and the presence of one Lord Adrian Wilshire had only made it better. She spotted him the moment she made her entrance, felt the blaze of his stare on her as she descended into the throng. Was that anger she detected in his eyes? Let him stew in it, she’d thought smugly as man after man escorted her to the dance floor. He hadn’t thought her good enough for his world; well, she would show him just how wrong he was. Besides, she thought as she sipped her third glass of champagne, his chagrin was due to nothing more than being beaten at his own game. Men of his sort did not like to be beaten, especially not by the women they sought to trick with pretty lies and false promises.

She lowered her eyes demurely as she spotted him at a nearby buffet table, hedging his way down the line with a half-full plate of delicacies. Covering the lower half of her face with her fan, she chastised herself for staring. Yes, he looked downright gorgeous in his court attire, hair slicked perfectly with every strand in place, but she hated herself for noticing. Even more, she hated herself for the telltale spreading of heat through her middle. How could her body react so traitorously when her mind screamed at him in rage? The mixture of feelings left her sick to her stomach.

Suddenly, the strains of the waltz ended, drawing Tatiana’s attention to the dance floor, where couples applauded politely before clearing the floor or switching partners. Before they could strike up another dance, the tinkling of silver against glassware rang out overhead and a low murmur of voices ensued as everyone searched for the source. Tatiana’s stomach lurched as she spotted Desmond standing on the low dais near the musicians. Remembering the ring he’d showed her a few days before, she swiftly downed the rest of her champagne and waved down a passing footman to trade her empty glass for a full one. She was going to need it to get through this evening.

Desmond cleared his throat, snatching nervously at the collar of his shirt, sending his cravat askew. A lock of wavy hair had tumbled over his forehead, giving him the appearance of a young rake. Desmond Brandon was anything but. In fact, he might just have been one of the most foolish, lovesick fools Tatiana had ever laid eyes on. Knowing that she was in no position to judge, she lowered her eyes to her champagne and braced herself for what was to follow.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Desmond began, clearing his throat again, “I will not take up too much of your time, but I thought since this evening marks such a special occasion, what I am about to do will only punctuate it with even more happiness.”

“Oh, dear God, just get on with it,” Tatiana muttered, taking another healthy swallow of champagne.

“Tsk, tsk, such rude behavior for a lady,” purred a silky voice at her back. A familiar voice. Adrian.

Tatiana stiffened, her back ramrod straight as his chest brushed it slightly. Keeping her eyes on Desmond, she tried not to notice the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. It took everything within her not to lean back into him, tilting her head, and praying for his lips to find her throat. Thank goodness, the corset made it nearly impossible for her to bend in any direction. It was obviously stronger than her will.

“… a man in love,” Desmond was saying as Tatiana refocused on what was happening. “And tonight, I humble myself before my friends and family …”

“Dear God, he’s not doing what I think he is, is he?” Adrian whispered, his mouth close to her ear. Tatiana flicked her fan and put it work, trying her best to ignore him.

“…Lady Abigail Norton, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Terrible idea, old boy,” Adrian whispered.

A hush fell over the ballroom as every eye swiveled toward Lady Abigail, who was dressed in soft pink and smiling from ear to ear. Her eyes widened as she stepped forward and everyone held their breaths in anticipation of her answer.

“Oh she’s good,” Adrian murmured. “I’ll give her that.”

“Yes. Yes, I will!” Lady Abigail cried out dramatically before lifting her skirts and trotting toward the dais. To the sound of applause, Desmond leaped down and raced toward her, meeting her in the middle of the ballroom and dropping to one knee, ring in hand. The applause swelled and ladies produced their handkerchiefs and swiped at teary eyes. Damien and Esmeralda materialized at the young couple’s side as Desmond stood, his engagement ring now firmly on Abigail’s finger. Damien and Esmeralda hugged the two and congratulated them, publicly showing their support, but Tatiana could see the pinched expression of worry shadowing her cousin’s features.

“What on earth could they be thinking?” Adrian said, a bit louder this time as the crowd converged upon the new couple, eager to congratulate them and eye Abigail’s ring up close.

Tatiana could take no more. Turning on him, she snapped her fan shut and pointed it at him accusingly. “Desmond is a good man, unlike many others in this room. He will make a fine husband to Lady Abigail.”

Adrian’s upper lip curled as he grasped her wrist, pulling her close and disappearing with her behind a large, potted plant. Behind the large, green leaves, they were mostly out of view of the crowd. Tatiana fought to free herself from Adrian’s grasp, but he captured her other arm and pulled her even closer.

“I do not doubt it,” he said, his voice low. “However, it is not Lady Abigail I worry for, but that poor young fool being led down the aisle like a lamb to the slaughter by a butcher in fine clothing. When the stars fade from his eyes, he will see her for the manipulative little trollop she is but by then it will be too late. He will be trapped in matrimony to her for the rest of his days, cursing the gods for the cruelty of a fate that could lead him down such a path.”

“What qualifies you to speak on matters of love and fidelity? They are two qualities in which you are obviously lacking.”

Adrian’s nostrils flared and his mouth pinched at the corners, his fingers tightening on her arms painfully. “I could say the same thing about you, my wild Gypsy rose. What are you doing here?”

Tatiana smiled smugly and shrugged out of his hold, careful to stay behind the plant so that she couldn’t be seen. “Surprised to see me here? I suppose you would be, seeing as how you assumed that I was no more than a common tart for you to have your way with. As you can see, you were quite wrong.”

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up. “You seek to accuse me of using you? Oh, my lady, I see that you are even better at playing the innocent victim than I could have imagined! I will admit that you had me fooled at the start; you are quite the skilled actress.”

“What are you talking about? You lied to me! I do not recall being introduced to a Lord Adrian Wilshire.”

“And I do not recall being introduced to the so-called diamond of the royal court. The woman I met was a fraud, and tonight I have gotten to see her true colors.”

“Everything I ever told you was the truth,” Tatiana insisted, guilt pricking her conscience as she realized she had never told him the whole truth.

“You expect me to believe that the Gypsy girl I first saw dancing beside the fire was real? For God’s sake, woman, your cousin is the queen of Cardenas! You are dressed to the nines and attending a royal palace ball. You have been found out, so you can drop the act.”

“It is not an act!” she hissed, jabbing him in the chest with her fan. He flinched and rubbed his chest distractedly, glaring at her as she continued. “I was that girl until my cousin married a king. In fact, she met him in this very ballroom when she was invited here to dance. Many of the people in this room saw her that night and don’t even have the foresight to make the connection. And that, my lord, is because people see only what they want to see. Just as you looked at me and saw an easy conquest, someone you could dally with until you’d grown bored enough to move on.”

Adrian’s eyes suddenly grew heavy-lidded and he advanced on her, his hands coming around her waist as he pulled her up against his body.

“You did not object much to being … used,” he murmured, his lips pressed against the shell of her ear. “In fact, I seem to remember you quite enjoying it. Was it only a few nights ago you danced for me so seductively before straddling me as if I were a stallion giving you the ride of your life?”

Tatiana swallowed past the fist-sized lump in her throat, her breathing growing rapid as she remembered. The memories brought heat to her cheeks as well as deep ache in her belly.

“Is that what it was all about for you, Tatiana?” he continued when she did not respond. “It couldn’t have been my money or position … you seem to have enough of that here. Was it the thrill of trying to tame a wild horse as opposed to one of your fancy, purebred, perfectly groomed steeds?”

Tatiana leaned away from him and fixed her face with a sneer. “Aren’t you forgetting that you are one of those fancy, purebreds? Or have you forgotten where we are?”

Adrian released her and shook his head, disgust flickering across his features. Tatiana cringed inwardly at the sight of it. “You know very little about me.”

“I could say the same,” she retorted, arms folded over her chest.

“And neither of you has any idea what you’ve just done,” intruded a third voice as a man’s figure appeared from the other side of the plant. Adrian blanched and Tatiana felt ill as Damien’s thunderous countenance appeared, his narrowed green gaze darting back and forth between them. From behind him, Esmeralda appeared as well, her eyes filled with tears. Tatiana felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. It did not matter how long they’d been standing there. If it had been more than a single minute, they’d both already heard too much.

“My library,” Damien commanded, his jaw tight. “Now.”

****

Chapter Thirteen

“First of all,” Damien began as he paced back and forth before the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, “allow me to give you both a piece of advice concerning private conversations during gatherings of the royal court.” He stopped and faced them both like a general, eyebrows shooting up to punctuate his next statement. “If you are going to conduct a conversation you do not want making the gossip rounds, find an empty drawing room or quiet corner of the garden and have it out. Potted plants might shield you from sight, but they do not create an effective sound barrier.”

Tatiana lowered her eyes to her lap, fiddling at the drawstring of her reticule. Sitting in the high-backed armchair was damned uncomfortable in her corset and many layers of petticoats and undergarments, but she dared not complain.

“I apologize,” she said quietly, “if anything that you heard upset you. Adrian and I … well, we have a history of sorts.”

Adrian shifted in the seat beside her, seemingly as uncomfortable as she was. “I believe it can be explained quite simply, Your Majesty,” he began politely.

“From what I gathered of the tail end of your conversation, no explanation is needed. We will get to your affair with my wife’s cousin in a moment. For now, we have a much larger problem on our hands.”

Tatiana’s brow winkled as she snuck a glance up at Esmeralda, who was staring distractedly into the fire. Tatiana had never seen her so upset.

“What problem?” she asked, her gaze snapping back to Damien.

“Don’t you want to know how I knew who was behind the plant and what they were talking about?”

When she didn’t answer, Adrian groaned, covering his face with one hand.

“That’s right,” Damien replied as if Adrian had actually uttered a response. “By the time I found you, most of your conversation had already made its way around the ballroom, courtesy of Lady Valerie Tilden, one of the royal court’s most notorious gossips.”

Tatiana’s eyes widened as shame flooded her. Another scandal caused by her actions. No wonder Esmeralda could hardly stand to look at her. “What did she hear?” Tatiana croaked, her voice gone hoarse as she fought back tears. The stares, the whispers, the censure … all of it would begin again and she would be at the center of it. And by the brother of the very man who caused the first scandal, no less. The gossips would eat her alive.

“Well, there was the matter of the affair you’ve been conducting for God knows how long, the fact that the two of you chose to keep each other’s identities a secret, and to top it all off the truth of where the queen of Cardenas comes from.”

Tatiana pressed her hands to her stomach, feeling as if she were losing her battle with illness. “Dear God,” she whispered. Glancing up at Esmeralda, she found that her cousin was finally looking at her, amber eyes filled with sadness. “Esmeralda, I am so sorry.”

She shrugged and laughed in response, the sound bitter and forced. “It is the truth, isn’t it? King Damien’s mysterious bride is unmasked as the half-naked Gypsy who danced for him at his twenty-fifth birthday celebration. Now everyone knows.”

“Being a Gypsy is nothing to be ashamed of,” Tatiana said before she could stop herself. She rose to her feet, anger at Esmeralda welling up in her and tamping down the shame. “You may have been living in this palace long enough to forget that, but I have not.”

Esmeralda stood as well, staring down at Tatiana from her impressive height. “I am not ashamed of who I am or where I come from,” she replied, her voice shaking as she fought to remain calm.

“Esmeralda,” Damien said softly, his brow creased with concern. “It’s all right.”

“No,” Esmeralda spat, her eyes blazing like polished gold, “I have had enough of this. Ever since your last embarrassment, you’ve gone about courting scandal and acting as you please without a care for how it would reflect on the rest of us. When Damien and I married, only his family and those closest to us knew the truth and we wanted to keep it that way. Not because we are ashamed, but because we have a family to protect; a family that includes Desmond, whose engagement you might have just ruined.”

Good, Tatiana thought with an inward sneer. All the better if the perfect Lady Abigail decides she doesn’t want her family line tainted with Gypsy blood.

“And Leila and Alex,” Esmeralda continued, taking the joy out of Tatiana’s inward taunts. She hadn’t thought of how this could have affected the children. “We did not want our children scorned or looked down upon because of what I am or who I was before I married their father.”

“They are a prince and princess,” Tatiana argued lamely. “No one would dare treat them badly.”

“Those in the royal house suffer more scrutiny from the court than anyone else,” Damien said softly from where he had perched on the arm of an empty chair. He gently pulled Esmeralda down into it, his hands firmly on her shoulders. “And now that is true more than ever.”

“What can we do?” Adrian asked. Tatiana started, glancing back over at him. He’d been sitting quietly for so long, she had almost forgotten he was there. “What can we do to make this right?”

Damien sighed. “Fortunately, my mother is an expert at spinning gossip into gold. As we speak, she is making the rounds, spreading a dramatically romantic tale of a prince so enchanted by a Gypsy dancer that he saved her from a life of degradation and made her his wife. That is only partly true, but I do not care one wit if others assume otherwise. Esmeralda is the one whose reputation could suffer, as well as Desmond’s and of course Tatiana’s. But Alexandra Largess served as queen of Cardenas for longer than I’ve been alive. She will guide us through this like the best of navigators and I am sure in time, the scandal will die down. Their fear of her will do the trick if nothing else.”

Tatiana breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as much as she could within the confines of her restrictive clothing.

“But, there is still the matter of your shocking behavior,” Damien said. “From what I heard in the ballroom, the nature of your relationship was an intimate one, yes?”

Tatiana blushed and lowered her eyes.

“It was, Your Majesty,” Adrian answered.

“Because Lord Wilshire is a gentleman, I know that he will do the right thing by you.” He turned is gaze to Adrian. “Will you not?”

“I will do what is necessary,” Adrian said without hesitation.

Tatiana’s eyes widened with horror as her gaze darted back and forth from one man to the other. This could not be happening. She fought the urge to pinch herself to ensure that she wasn’t dreaming. “No,” she whispered as the two men stood and shook hands. “Please.”

“I am sorry,” Damien said as he crossed to his desk and slid into the chair behind it, “but you have left me with no choice. This is your second scandal of this nature and because of the other information that is now swirling around the ballroom; we cannot afford to suffer this blow as well. It is the best solution and will quiet the gossips about the both of you as soon as the deed is done.”

“There must be another way,” she protested, crossing to the desk and placing her hands flat on it, leaning toward Damien as her tone turned toward pleading. “I’ll do anything else. Send me away if you must, back to my father. Just don’t … please don’t do this.”

Damien raised his eyes from the fresh parchment he’d slid onto the desk’s surface, his quill poised just above it. “Do you have reason to believe that this man will treat you poorly?”

Tatiana did not have it in her to lie. Adrian might be a liar but he was not cruel. “No.”

“Did you take any precautions to protect yourself from becoming pregnant with his child?” he asked softly, so softly only the two of them could hear. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of her time with Adrian. There had seemed no need for caution because what she felt for him seemed so honest. She had thought he would come home from his island voyage and make her his bride. Now it seemed she was to be his bride, but it was a bitter pill to swallow after the revelations of the past few days.

Damien was right. If he left to go to Martinique—if he was even telling the truth about said voyage—and she discovered she was pregnant, she would be ruined and the scandal would trickle down to Damien, Esmeralda and Desmond. They would suffer enough because of her and she was done hurting them. Whatever happened to her now was well deserved after she’d been so careless not once, but twice.

“No,” she answered him honestly.

Damien sighed and shook his head slowly. “You will be married by week’s end.”

****

Adrian signed his name at the bottom of the parchment with a flourish before handing the quill back to Damien. His vision blurred from fatigue and he realized that it was well past three o’clock in the morning. He was exhausted and he was wrung dry. More than anything else, he was numb.

He was getting married.

The realization did not bring him near as much joy as it had a few days ago when he purchased the ruby ring for Tatiana. The trinket now felt like a stone weight in his pocket, a gem that was now meaningless to him. He watched as Damien crossed to the sideboard and poured two liberal snifters of brandy, his thoughts whirring as he tried to put the pieces of his now shattered existence back together.

Had this been her plan all along? He wondered as he fell back into the chair across from Damien’s desk. If so, he could not understand her logic. From what Roger had said, it sounded as if the lady could have had her pick of any man in the courts of Cardenas or Barony, despite the earlier scandal. Why him? Perhaps she’d thought him weak and gullible because of his background; maybe he was. One thing was for sure, he did not intend to fall for her games and lies again.

“I apologize for the trouble we’ve caused,” Adrian said after Damien settled back behind the desk. Damien took a healthy swallow from his glass before lifting the lid of the humidor at his side.

“Cigar?” he offered. Adrian shook his head. “Do you mind if I indulge?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”

Damien sighed with relief as he lit the cigar and leaned back into his chair, his free hand working to loosen his cravat. “There is no apology necessary,” he said with a shrug. “I daresay Tatiana’s impulsive nature is to blame for this, as well as her desire to indulge in her old way of life. The first scandal really was hard for her and she never quite recovered. Tonight was her first evening back in society since.”

“Everyone speaks of this scandal,” Adrian murmured as he sipped slowly from his glass. “What the devil is everyone talking about? Tatiana has not exactly been forthright with me and I want to know what to expect from her.”

“I gathered you weren’t exactly forthright with her either,” Damien pointed out, much to his chagrin. Adrian’s jaw stiffened.

“I merely withheld certain details until I could be sure of her feelings for me. Obviously, they were not what I thought. Now, about this scandal. I have already signed the agreement so you needn’t worry about my backing out now. I think I am entitled to the information, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Damien nodded. “Of course. It is just that the information is delicate, more so because of who you are.”

“Might as well get it over with. Just say it, quickly, so I can begin to get over it.”

“Fine then,” Damien conceded. “It happened while we were in Barony last year…”

****

“I will speak with Damien; there must be a way out of this,” Esmeralda mumbled as she paced back and forth in front of Tatiana’s bed. She had just undressed for the evening and settled into bed for a good long cry, when Esmeralda showed up at her door still fully dressed in court attire. Tatiana was certain she’d come to give her a good tongue lashing and had been prepared to endure it in silence. She certainly would have deserved it had Esmeralda decided to let her have an earful.

To her surprise, Esmeralda burst into tears and threw her arms around Tatiana. Through her sobs, she promised to help Tatiana find a way out of the marriage if she didn’t want it. Though Tatiana had assured her she had come to terms with the arrangement, Esmeralda was not convinced.

“There is no other way,” Tatiana said meekly from her spot on the bed a she traced the floral pattern of her duvet with the tip of her finger. “Damien is right; I must do this to take the wind out the gossips’ sails. Once Adrian and I are married, most of the talk will die down. You won’t have to suffer shame because of what I’ve done.”

Esmeralda came forward and sat on the bed, reaching out to take Tatiana’s hand. “Won’t you tell me what happened? You have been so secretive the past few weeks and I’ve missed you. We used to share everything.”

Tatiana sighed, clutching her cousin’s hand tightly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that the longer we have been here, the more distant I’ve felt from you. It is not your fault. You have a new life here and it suits you. But I… I just don’t belong. I thought I did but the scandal with Andrew left me longing for our old life. One night, at that Gypsy party a few weeks ago, I met a man. He saw me dance and followed me into the woods. Esmeralda, I thought I loved him. He spoke so sweetly and told me that he believed in destiny. It was almost as if...“

“I know that feeling,” Esmeralda interjected, her voice laced with sympathy. “Grandmother spoke of destiny to me the night I met Damien. She was right, about everything.”

“She was wrong about Adrian,” Tatiana spat angrily. “He lied to me about who he was. I didn’t know until you told me that he was Andrew’s brother. After what you told me, I put two and two together.”

Esmeralda gasped. “Do you think he knew who you were? Do you think he pursued you on purpose because of it?”

Tatiana shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, although she’d been ready to crucify him with the same allegations just hours ago. Something about the look on his face when she accused him of using her had her uncertain. He had looked … hurt? Tatiana shook her head. “It is a strong possibility. You know how men of this circle can be. Look at how Lord White treated me after what happened. They all think of me as soiled goods.”

Esmeralda smirked. “Lord White is now a walking example to anyone who thinks to treat you like a soiled dove after Damien nearly took his leg off in their duel. They say he will walk with a cane for the rest of his life.”

Tatiana smiled and the two laughed together. “Serves him right,” she declared, remembering his attack on her with distaste.

“If you tell Damien what you told me, he’ll have to see reason. This marriage is a bad idea.”

Tatiana shook her head. “I did this,” she insisted. “I allowed this to happen by being foolish, and now I will pay the price. Adrian is a liar but I do not think he is cruel. Many husbands and wives of the court live separately. I am certain that I will find something to occupy me. I will spend the rest of my days living quietly and avoiding scandal.”

“But, he will take you halfway around the world, Tatiana. Did you not know of his voyage to the island?”

Tatiana shrugged. “I figured it was another one of his lies.”

Esmeralda shook her head. “Le Grove Plantation is one of the properties Adrian inherited after Andrew lost everything. He is going to inspect the property and set things to rights. Apparently, things were left quite a mess. There are mistreated workers and poor crops, among other problems.”

Tatiana’s heart lurched at the thought of boarding a ship with Adrian but she felt a tiny glimmer of excitement as well. “Don’t you see? This will be a grand adventure for me. I will have an entire island to explore! You do not need to worry about me; I will be fine.”

Esmeralda’s response was cut off by a knock on the door. Tatiana frowned.

“Who could that be at this hour?”

Esmeralda stood. “Since you are undressed, I will find out.”

She crossed to the door and Tatiana caught a flash of Damien’s blond head on the other side. Snatches of their conversation floated in.

“… wants to speak to her.”

“At this hour?”

“…only be a moment. They have much to discuss.”

“Damien, it is nearly five o’clock in the morning. She is exhausted. Can’t it wait?”

Tatiana didn’t catch the rest of it, but after another moment, Esmeralda turned in the doorway.

“Lord Wilshire would like to speak with you,” she said, her lips pressed together tightly in clear indication that she did not approve. “Damien seems to think it cannot wait.”

Tatiana sighed and left the bed, searching for her dressing gown before sliding it on over her peach silk nightgown. “Send him in.”

“You don’t have to do this. Enough demands have been made of you tonight.”

“No, no. Best to get it over with now. Let him in.”

Esmeralda stepped aside and swung the door open, allowing Adrian to come inside. Damien stood on the other side, his hand extended to his wife.

“Come darling,” he urged gently, his eyes searching her face. Tatiana knew he was concerned that the events of the night had left her overly tired. So soon after having baby Alex, she should not be taxed so sorely. The thought made her guilt even greater.

Esmeralda walked slowly toward the door, her narrowed golden gaze fixed on Adrian. “I will post a servant outside of this door,” she warned. “He will enter at the slightest indication of a disturbance.”

Adrian merely bowed his head respectfully. “Of course, Your Majesty. No harm will come to my future wife in my presence. You have my word.”

Seemingly satisfied, Esmeralda nodded and took Damien’s hand, allowing him to lead her from the room.

She and Adrian stood across the room from each other for several moments. Tatiana stared down at her bare feet peeking from under her dressing gown, her face burning as she felt Adrian’s gaze on her. He’d removed his spectacles, slipped them into his breast pocket, and left off his sash and decorative saber. Still, even without those adornments and a loosened cravat, Tatiana could not reconcile this Adrian with the one she’d thought she knew.

“I need to ask you a question,” he began, his voice low. “I know there hasn’t been much honesty between us,” he cleared his throat, “on either side, and I can admit to the things I kept from you. Nevertheless, for this question, I need an honest answer, Tatiana. No games, no secrets.”

Tatiana felt as if she were a child being scolded, but raised her head anyway, meeting his gaze head on. She nodded, once.

“Did you know when we met that I was Andrew Forsyth’s brother?”

Shock rippled through her and was quickly replaced with anger. “Did I know? Didn’t you know I was the one he had disgraced? Didn’t the rumors reach you in Barony of what he’d done?”

Adrian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “I have spent the last several months cleaning up his messes. I know of the living he’s made trafficking women in and out of various countries, and the workers he’s mistreated on Martinique. I recently met my sister, a woman he conducted an incestuous affair with. He plied her with opium for years to keep her under his control and now she is my responsibility. There are estates and holdings, things that belonged to my father and are now my responsibility as well and I am just trying to keep my head above water. So, no, I did not know. I do not make it my business to indulge in gossip over the latest scandal, even the ones that involve my despicable half brother.”

Tatiana could see that this, at least, was the truth. “I did not know who you were either. Not until a few nights ago, when Esmeralda warned me that Andrew’s brother would be attending the christening. She spoke of your unusual situation—that you were the illegitimate son who inherited. Then she said your name, and I just knew. The pieces fit together.”

“Another question before I leave,” he said. Tatiana hated his business-like tone, but she supposed this cold man was the true Adrian. She realized that she had no way of knowing. She did not really know him at all.

She nodded again.

“Are you with child?”

The question hung on the air between them and Tatiana was once again assaulted with memories of their intimate moments. Heat flooded her veins at the thought of Adrian, on top of her, inside of her, spilling his essence into her time and time again. Neither of them had given a thought to the consequences. “I do not think so,” she answered honestly. “But then, my courses have never been regular. I may not know for weeks. If I’d thought so before, I would have told you.”

Adrian watched her closely for a while, as if trying to decide whether to believe her. After a pause, he nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and coming out with a black jeweler’s box.

“The voyage to Martinique has been postponed until after the wedding. Damien has agreed to see to all of the arrangements. I thought you should have this … you know, in case you run into any gossipmongers between now and then. Flaunt it proudly; you seem to be good at it.”

Tatiana opened the box to find a gold band inside topped by a large, oval ruby ringed in diamonds. Her jaw dropped as the beauty of the stone struck her full force.

“It’s lovely,” she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. She removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger.

“It suits you,” he said with a shrug. “Beautiful, glittering, hard, sharp.”

Tatiana flinched and lowered her eyes, hurt that he would now think of her this way. Yes, she’d kept things from him but he had lied as well. Was his anger because he was aggrieved or because he’d been found out? Where before, she thought she knew him, felt connected to him, now she could not figure him out. He came forward and grasped her shoulders, kissing her cheek once, chastely. The action lacked all of the heat and passion of every kiss they had shared before now. She stiffened in his hold and stared straight ahead.

“The ring is perfect,” she said, her voice hollow. “My friends will be quite jealous.”

“I am sure you will make certain that they are. Good night, Tatiana. I will see you at our wedding, yes?”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left. Tatiana sank onto the bed, her vision blurring from tears and exhaustion as she gazed down at the ruby. Looking at it, she could not help but think of the story of the wild Gypsy on the mountain. Unlike the woman in the story, it looked as if Tatiana would not get her wish. As the first rays of the sun began their ascent on the horizon, she felt the bars of her gilded cage growing tighter and tighter around her.

Chapter Fourteen

The hooded figure leaned against the side of the stone chapel, his eyes following the progress of the group of ladies walking the market square. They’d caught his interest the moment he spotted them, and Dorian forgot all about his meeting with one of Cardenas’ and Barony’s most prolific distributors of human flesh as he tracked them from shop to shop. He moved slowly along the wall, being sure to keep to the shadows as he watched them pause near a rough table covered in handmade scarves and jewelry. The Gypsy women standing behind it held their wares up proudly as the ladies inspected them.

While Geoffrey had assured him the bottle of black hair dye and stubble he’d let sprout along his chin made him nearly unrecognizable, Dorian wasn’t taking any chances. There were many soldiers walking the streets; most seemed to be off duty, but all carried swords as well as the power to arrest him for his crimes. Therefore, he remained where he could remain relatively unseen, as he watched the women make progress around the square, flanked by footmen carrying their many purchases.

It was her. His Dolly. She was different, changed, but there was no mistaking it. He would know her anywhere.

She appeared as a lady in grand style, her perfectly tailored morning dress and matching spencer and bonnet giving her an air of wealth. Her hair had been dyed a deep mahogany, and was only a few shades darker than her natural color. In place of the cosmetics she usually painted her face with, was a gleaming peaches and cream complexion accentuated with only the lightest of enhancements. At her side, an older woman of about sixty years of age was dressed in similar style, while a much younger companion was dressed more commonly, obviously a servant of some sort. The three women laughed and talked together as if they were good friends, but Dorian knew better.

Dolly had not a friend in the world; he was her only family, her only friend. Whatever had been done to her, Dorian intended to set her free. What he saw now left a sour taste in his mouth and he knew that she could not be truly content. No one could make her happy the way he could.

He ducked behind a cart laden with a variety of nuts and spices for sale, grateful that he’d recovered from his last pox outbreak before leaving the ship. He was now relatively unbothered by his sickness, an occurrence that was becoming rarer the closer he came to death. Dorian felt better than he had in weeks and was glad for it when he saw Dolly fall behind the others to inspect a hand-painted brooch. Seizing this small window of opportunity, Dorian stepped forward and grasped her arm tightly, swiftly propelling her into an alley, shadowed by a blacksmith’s shop on one side and a bakery on the other.

She only struggled for the few moments it took for him to remove his hood and reveal his face. Her dark eyes widened in fear and recognition as he pressed her up against the cool stone wall. It did not matter what Geoffrey had done to alter his appearance. Dolly would know him anywhere.

She gasped, her soft, pink lips falling open in shock. “Andrew!” she gasped, trembling in his hold. “What are you doing here?”

Dorian’s jaw tightened as he pressed his body up to her, reveling in the shudders that wracked her from his proximity. He could practically smell her terror and it was sweet indeed. “Dorian,” he hissed against her ear. “Call me Dorian, love. Remember how you used to moan the name in ecstasy as I made love to you?”

Dolly’s nostrils flared as she stared up at him in undisguised disgust. “You call it making love, yet I remember it as one of the most degrading, humiliating experiences of my life.”

Anger rose in him so swiftly, before he knew it he had tightened his fingers, cutting off her air supply. “You did not think so at the time,” he said softly, loosening his hold on her throat to trail his fingers down over her collarbone and toward the décolletage of her gown. “I seem to remember you being quite … eager to please me.”

“I would have done anything for opium,” she whispered as tears slid from the corners of her eyes. “But I have been free of its talons for months now and I am finally seeing things clearly. My life is not what it once was, Andrew.”

“Dorian!” he bellowed, grasping her by the shoulders and slamming her against the wall. She cried out, but did not try to fight him. “Call me Dorian, damn it! And you are Dolly, my Dolly!”

Her lower lip trembled as she straightened her spine regally, her chest swelling with righteous indignation. “My name is Anne,” she said, her voice firm. “I have a new life now, and it does not involve you. Now, release me.”

Eyebrows raised, Dorian’s grip on her shoulders slackened. The moment he let her go, her gloved hand came up to make contact with his face. Dorian smiled as his cheek stung and he imagined her handprint against his jaw. She hadn’t lost her spark after all.

“Do not come near me again,” she hissed as she turned to retreat back toward the market. “If you do, I will tell my brother and he will have you arrested.”

Dorian let her go, propping himself up against the wall he’d just pushed Dolly against, his blood humming excitedly in his veins. The thrill of the chase had always given him life, and now that both Adrian and Dolly were within his reach once again, he would not waste the opportunity. That Dolly already thought of their father’s bastard as her brother was very telling. The two had forged some sort of bond. All the better, he decided as he left the alley and found the hired vehicle Geoffrey awaited him in. He could use her to get to him if he had to.

“Is that who I think it is, Monsieur?” Geoffrey asked as he peered through the private vehicle’s curtains. “The king has allowed her to live and go free?”

Dorian smiled as they watched Dolly reunite with her companions and continue down through the market. “It would seem that King Damien has practiced leniency with her, mon ami. No doubt she has been released into my bastard half brother’s custody.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrows shot up. “Really,” he murmured. “How odd.”

“Certainly,” Dorian answered. “But there is only one way to find out, no? I want him found, Geoff. He has undoubtedly purchased a townhouse for Dolly to live in … perhaps he is even in residence himself. I want to know where the property is, if he is there, and why he is in Cardenas. I want to know his every move.”

Geoffrey responded with a nod. “It will be done.”

****

Adrian glanced up from the large, dusty tome he’d been combing through to find the butler standing in the doorway to the townhouse’s library. He stared at the stoic man over the rim of his glasses with a frown.

“My lord,” he said after clearing his throat. “You’ve a visitor, a Mister Ramon Angelo.” The butler wrinkled his nose with distaste. “He is a rather poor-looking fellow, and is dressed like a common laborer. I was not sure if my lord would be interested in meeting with such an unsavory character, but I thought it wise to ask first.”

Adrian smothered a smirk at the butler’s depiction of a man he was quite sure was Tatiana’s father. Apparently, the butler of his rented home had no insight into his own dubious background. He stood and stretched before coming around his desk.

“I take it you showed him into the parlor?” he asked.

The butler blinked rapidly, an appropriate expression of horror clear on his face. “Of course not, my lord. He is waiting on the doorstep.”

Adrian sighed and shook his head. “Henceforth, show all visitors regardless of rank or style of dress to the parlor and offer them refreshment. Show him there now, please and apologize. I will come momentarily.”

The butler’s eye twitched and his lips pursed as if he wished to protest, but he merely nodded and turned to go about the task assigned him. Once the door to the library was closed once again, Adrian made a mental note to hire another butler once he purchased the townhouse for himself. He had no use for a servant lacking in basic manners.

Crossing to the window in the corner that gave him a perfect view of the street below, Adrian watched as carriages, coaches, and curricles rolled by, their occupants coming and going from the mews about their daily business. The day was dreary and gray and a light rain pelted the windows in a soothing rhythm. In only two days’ time, he would be married. The day after his nuptials, the journey to Martinique would begin. Adrian laughed dryly as he realized that many members of the court would see the voyage as a honeymoon trip. How wrong they all would be. He could not imagine anything worse than six weeks on board a ship with a woman who hated him.

She does not hate you, he chided himself as he came away from the window. No, she might not have hated him but she certainly did not love him. Was he certain he had ever loved her? He wondered as he left the library, taking his time in reaching the parlor. Now that their lies had been exposed and their lives forced into a direction that neither of them had wanted, Adrian wasn’t sure if he’d ever know for sure.

“Mister Angelo.” He greeted the man standing near the lit fireplace warmly as he closed the parlor’s double doors behind him. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Adrian extended his hand cordially to the large, swarthy man staring at him with dark, fathomless eyes. Now he knew where Tatiana got her looks. Ramon was gruff and hard, but his features were unblemished and chiseled. Locks of dark, wet hair fell into his eyes and he pushed the sodden mass back with one hand before shoving it into his pocket, declining to take Adrian’s offered hand. With a shrug, Adrian placed his hands into his pockets as well and faced the man who would become his father-in-law in two days’ time. “I do apologize for Ramsey,” he said, nodding his head toward the door and indicating the butler on the other side. “He is not well-trained in receiving guests.”

Ramon shrugged. “I am accustomed to such treatment from your kind,” he said a thickly accented voice. Adrian wondered where the man hailed from but decided it was best not to ask. Gypsies were known to come from every corner of the world. “I’m sure you know why I am here.”

Adrian nodded. “I do. By now, you have undoubtedly heard of my engagement to your daughter. I look forward to seeing you at the wedding.”

Ramon’s jaw hardened, as did the dark gleam in his narrowed eyes. “I was invited, but whether or not I’ll be attending is a different matter.”

“I am sure Tatiana would be more than happy to have you.”

“And what about you?” he asked, a dark eyebrow raised. “I would think a man raised as a gentleman would first approach a girl’s father to ask properly for her hand in marriage.”

Adrian crossed his arms over his chest. “I was under the impression that King Damien was now her guardian. Was she not sent to the royal court for the purpose of finding a husband?”

“It was one of many reasons, but that does not change the fact that King Damien is not her father. Whether he is her guardian or not, you owe me the respect of asking me for my daughter’s hand.”

Adrian inclined his head. “Fair enough. You assume I was raised a gentleman, Mister Angelo, but the fact of the matter is, I am a common man whose father happened to be a lord. I am from the same world you are from, though I daresay you’ve earned more in your life as a woodworker than I did as a stable groom. Nevertheless, in the world you and I come from, we cut right to the chase. Name your price.”

Shock widened Ramon’s eyes and knit his brow. “I’m sorry?”

Adrian sighed. “I am sure you know that I am a busy man, Mister Angelo. You and I both know why you’ve come here and I am well aware of the customary bride price requested for Gypsy girls by their fathers. I am told the bride price for Tatiana is quite exorbitant, but it is one I am prepared to match several times over if necessary. Now, if you please, name your price.”

Ramon straightened and rattled off a sum without batting an eyelash. Before he inherited, Adrian would have thought the amount obscene. Now, he realized with an inward chuckle that the price Ramon was asking for Tatiana wasn’t even half what he had spent on her engagement ring.

“I’ll triple the amount.”

If Ramon had looked surprised before, he was now utterly flabbergasted if his dropped jaw were any indication.

“My lord, I am sure that is not necessary.”

“Nonsense,” Adrian interjected, closing the space between them and clapping Ramon on the shoulder as if they were friends. “If anything, I believe you’ve sold your daughter too short, which is why I have decided to triple the bride price. That way, you are more than certain she is being taken care of by a man of means and influence. Besides, what kind of son-in-law would I be if I allowed my father-in-law to live in destitution while lavishing his daughter with gowns and jewels?”

Ramon laughed as Adrian led him from the room and toward the library. “Jewels?”

“Well, a society miss such as your daughter deserves only the best. She is the wife of a lord now, and will live a very fine and pampered life. You should be proud, Mister Angelo, she has done quite well for herself.” He ushered Ramon to a chair across from his desk as he extracted a sheath of bank drafts from his desk drawer.

“A fine life,” Ramon repeated softly as Adrian scribbled the amount on the register and signed his name. “It’s what I’ve always wanted for her.”

“I am sure the extra coin in your pocket is of no consequence then,” Adrian snapped as he waved the register through the air to dry the ink.

Ramon stood, his mouth a thin line as he leaned on Adrian’s desk. “It was never about the money.”

Adrian extended the draft, lips pursed sarcastically. “Then why do I have a feeling that this draft will be deposited before Tatiana even walks down the aisle?”

Ramon smirked as he accepted the slip of paper. “You care for her, don’t you? At first, I thought that perhaps you were just another young lord in need of a pretty girl to escort about on your arm. She is more than that, and I think you know it.”

Adrian’s teeth ground together as he settled back behind his desk. “My arrangement with your daughter is one of convenience for us both, which I am sure you know. Any feelings I may have are irrelevant.”

Ramon smiled knowingly and pocketed the bank draft. “Whatever you say, son. You just take care of her. I have waited years for a good husband for Tatiana and I think you’re it.”

Adrian stared at Ramon’s retreating form and sighed as the door closed behind him. He removed his spectacles and rubbed his tired eyes. Ramon Angelo was as puzzling as his daughter. One thing his visit confirmed was that Tatiana had been telling the truth about her upbringing. Her father really was the greedy, grasping fortune hunter she’d painted him as, although Adrian suspected he only did it out of love for Tatiana. He cared for his daughter, in his own way, and Adrian supposed he could respect that.

As for the daughter … she was still a conundrum to him. From where he sat, it appeared as if she took advantage of her luck or rather, Esmeralda’s luck and struck out to nab herself a rich and titled husband. She’d been bested by Andrew and retreated from society to lick his wounds. Finding him, she had decided to sink her claws in one last desperate attempt at securing the wealth, privilege and station she desired.

No, that can’t be. Can it?

Adrian wrestled with these thoughts daily, unsure of what kind of woman he was marrying in two days. It was a daunting thought. Navigating his new life would be hard enough without having to worry about whether or not his wife was attempting to make a mockery of him at every turn.

A light rapping on his door dragged him from the mire of his thoughts and Adrian sighed, slipping his glasses on as he bid the person on the other side to enter. His mother slid into the room, closing the door behind her and fixing him with a tentative smile. She’d been lucid for a little over a day, a fact that brought Adrian no end of relief. When he had stumbled upon her in his bed, naked and draped in bed sheets the night after the fiasco with Tatiana, he’d thought he was trapped in the throes of some hellish nightmare. She’d forgotten who he was again, as well as her advanced age. In her mind, she was a young courtesan again, tempting her rampant lover with a scintillating display of flesh and a smile. She abruptly burst into tears when he suggested she cover herself and go back to her own room, and preceded to follow him about the room naked as she railed at him, ‘Why don’t you love me? I thought you loved me, Charles!” Charles. Yet another one of her many past lovers. If Adrian hadn’t missed his guess, this one had come shortly after his father, but he couldn’t be sure. They all blurred together in his mind until they were one man; the man who had used and then discarded his mother time and time again. Faceless. Cold. “May I have a moment?” she asked softly, her eyes fixed on her beaded slippers.

“Of course, Mother.”

“I just wanted to apologize again,” she began, cut off by a wave of Adrian’s hand.

“I already told you, it’s quite all right. You cannot help yourself.” Adrian stood just as she rounded the desk and collapsed against him, her tears soaking his shirtfront.

“Oh, Adrian! I wish that I would die!”

Adrian stiffened and patted her back with as much affection as he could muster. “Mother, you don’t mean that,” he said gently, though in his mind he had always wondered if death would not have been easier on her. With time, her condition grew worse, and he feared the day when she would become trapped inside her past life permanently, forcing them both to relive the horrors of poverty and abuse over and over again until she finally wasted away from old age.

“I know,” she sniffled as she took his offered handkerchief, “I should not say such things. But I feel as if God is punishing me, for the life I lead, for those horrible things I made you do.”

Adrian grew so rigid he feared he could snap in two. He pushed her away a bit abruptly, his shaking hands finding his trouser pockets. “I do not want to talk of the past.”

Dabbing at her eyes with the white cloth, Martha advanced on him, her tone desperate. “You must allow me to speak, Adrian. I feel as if I need to cleanse myself of all the ugliness of the past. Somehow, I cannot move forward without your forgiveness.”

“I said I do not wish to speak of it!” he bellowed with more force than he intended. He could no longer help himself. She’d pushed him too far. “You want my forgiveness, Mother? Well, you do not have it! I am sorry to say that you may never have it, because your transgressions run too deep. Every day that I live in this sham of life that has become my burden, I am reminded of the sins of both my mother and my father. This house, the clothes I wear, the carriages, balls, parties, and now even my wife serve as a constant reminder of everything either of you has ever done to push me to this point. You will have to find another way to ease your conscience, because I will not do it for you. You want to feel peace? You want to feel better about the way you’ve wronged me? You will have to look elsewhere, because I cannot give that to you; not when I’m buried in turmoil myself. I will not allow you to find peace when you’ve buried me in pain!” He punctuated the end of his statement with a fist to the desk, causing Martha to flinch noticeably. Tears welled in her dull, wrinkle-lined eyes, but Adrian did not care. How many tears had he cried while being beaten by her final lover, or while praying for even a moldy crust of bread to eat?

Martha took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, though nothing could stop the tears that raced down her face. “I understand,” she said, her voice uneven. “I had only hoped that we might mend our bridges before I finally lose what is left of my mind. But, I can see you are not ready and I do not blame you.” She turned to leave on silent feet, her skirts bunched tightly in trembling fists. “For what it’s worth,” she added as she paused in the doorway, “I wish I could do it all over again. I would have made a different life for us. I am sure I could have been something else, someone else. I never really tried. Being a courtesan was so easy; I was beautiful, young, and charming. Once you were born, I could see no other way to take care of you. As for the rest of it … well, there really is no excuse. I was desperate and foolish and I hurt you. I will never forgive myself for it, especially when you cannot. If it means something to you, I loved you more than anything. I still do.”

When the door closed behind her, Adrian collapsed against his desk, shoulders slumped dejectedly. His fingers brushed the heavy tome he’d been studying on sugar cane farming, but his mind was too turbulent for him to focus on the words. He felt constricted, pressed on from all sides with no hope of relief. The future was beginning to look darker with each passing day and now, the one thing he’d thought would bring him needed relief had turned out to be a lie as well. He would spend the rest of his life sleeping next to the lie, living with the lie, facing his foolishness everyday as it mocked him to his face. As the next two days passed by in a blur, he began to feel more and more as if a noose were settling around his neck.

Chapter Fifteen

Tatiana turned away from her reflection in the full-length mirror, her thoughts too melancholy to dwell on how beautiful her wedding gown was. The simple dove gray silk gown with white lace trim and bodice embroidered in silver thread did little to lift her spirits. All it did was remind her that the sky this morning was a similar shade of gray, overcast by clouds brewing with an impending storm. Much like the weather, Tatiana’s mood was turbulent and she’d been on edge from the moment her maid, Esmeralda, and Alexandra entered to awaken her at dawn.

There was much to do before the ceremony, and Tatiana barely had time to think as she was fed a small breakfast of toast and tea before being ushered into Esmeralda’s room where a tub had been set up and filled with steaming water. After she’d scrubbed herself from head to toe with lilac-scented soap, she was fitted into undergarments and corset before seated at Esmeralda’s vanity mirror to be brushed, coiffed, made up and draped in diamonds. The large stones dripping from her ears and neck were gaudy, but refusing borrowed jewels from the Queen Mother would be a serious faux pas. Tatiana accepted the loan graciously, but declined the tiara firmly. She had to draw the line somewhere.

Now that she was dressed and ready, Tatiana was allowed only a few moments of quiet introspection before the royal coach would be brought around to take her to Cardenas’ cathedral. She’d begged for a smaller, simpler affair, but Alexandra would hear none of it. The former queen advised that nothing squelched a scandal faster than a lavish party.

“Remember to smile,” she told her as she inspected her appearance for the last time before nodding in approval. “You are in love and you are happy. Whatever you must do to create the illusion, do it. People will talk because the ceremony was planned so quickly, but it is up to you to create the illusion of love and happiness.”

Tatiana smiled weakly. “You are quite good at this,” she remarked toying with the ruby ring on her finger.

Alexandra laughed, her white gloved hand coming up to her emerald-draped throat. “I am not sure if you meant that as a compliment, child, but I will accept it as such. I know you think me harsh, as my son and daughter-in-law undoubtedly do, but I have only done what is necessary.”

Tatiana was seeing the former queen with new eyes. She had to have been young when she married the now deceased King Adare, and undoubtedly had not had much choice in the matter. “Did you love him?” she asked timidly.

Alexandra’s smile wavered and she sighed heavily, her gaze wandering out the window and to the royal family cemetery in the distance.

“I suppose, in my own way, I did love my husband,” she said, her voice low. “But we barely knew each other when we married and his heart belonged to someone else. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make him love me the way he loved her. I threw all of my energy into creating the image of a cool, composed woman, a queen beyond reproach. In the end, he died still loving her, but I like to think he loved me too—in his own way, the only way he knew how.”

Tatiana eyed the toes of the slippers peeking from beneath the hem of her gown as she sank down on to the cushioned vanity stool behind her. Alexandra made it sound nice, but marriage to a man who did not love her would be hell, and Tatiana knew it.

“Adrian does not love me and I’m not sure he ever will,” she said with a sigh. “But, I suppose that is mostly my fault.”

Alexandra approached her and took Tatiana’s chin in her hand, lifting it slightly so that their eyes could meet. “Hold your head up high,” she said sharply, her tone commanding once again. “This is not a day for tears. A lady knows to cry in private and smile in public. It is how we survive, dear. It is the most important lesson you will ever learn if you wish to endure the scrutiny of the court. Remember it.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Tatiana answered.

Alexandra studied her a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave the room. She passed Esmeralda on her way in, who was dressed elegantly in royal blue and holding a ruffle and lace covered Leila on her hip. The child looked positively miserable in bows and frills, but she looked like an angel.

“We have only a moment before the carriage is ready,” Esmeralda said as she batted Leila’s busy hands away from her ruby choker. “Uncle Ramon is here.”

Tatiana stiffened, a dozen emotions warring within her at once. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Here? Now?”

“He wanted to speak with you before going to the chapel. He is just outside the door.”

Tatiana stood and pulled on her white satin gloves, taking her time as she thought over what she would say to her father. She’d sent him an invitation, but hardly expected him to come. Now that he was here, she was not sure she was ready to face him. There would be no more time, she reminded herself. Her trunks were packed for Martinique and another dawn would see her on board a ship sailing halfway across the world. She wouldn’t see him for months, perhaps even a year or more. Now was the time.

“Send him in,” she said with a little nod.

Esmeralda swung the door open and gestured to someone in the hall. The man that appeared looked roguishly handsome in tailcoat and breeches, new clothing she realized. His hair was combed neatly and his face clean-shaven. She’d never seen Ramon looking more dapper or handsome in her life. She could imagine how her mother would have fallen in love with him. He smiled when he saw her but did not try to touch her. He merely stood close to the door after Esmeralda had left and closed it, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “So much like your mother did on our wedding day.”

Tatiana smiled at the memory of her mother. The gown she’d worn was in a trunk in her father’s house, now frayed and yellowed with age. When she was a little girl, Tatiana had loved to pull it out and put it on, carrying a handful of wildflowers about the yard as she pretended to marry an invisible prince. In those days, she’d pictured her life as an adult much differently, viewed love and marriage through dreamy eyes.

“I wish she could be here today,” Ramon continued when Tatiana did not answer. “She would have been so proud to see you make such a good match.”

Tatiana snorted. “Seeing me married to someone wealthy and well connected was your dream.”

“It was once yours too,” he reminded her sternly.

“Things change, people change; I have changed.”

Ramon chuckled. “Not much, you haven’t. You are still the same spitfire you always were. But, I think our Adrian is up to the task of managing you. He will take good care of you, I know.”

Tatiana narrowed her eyes at his cryptic words, a cold knot of dread forming in her middle. “What do you mean by that? You don’t even know him.”

“We met,” Ramon answered with a shrug as he leaned against the escritoire in the corner. “I paid him a visit a few days ago.”

Her stomach lurched as she advanced on him. “Why would you do that? Please don’t tell me you went there with your hand out!”

Ramon’s chest swelled with indignation as she straightened to face her. “I went to meet the man who is marrying my daughter, since no one saw fit to include me in the negotiation of the engagement contract.”

“Damien is our king and he is my guardian.”

“I am still your father. Yet, no one thought to introduce me to my future son-in-law, or even ask my permission to give you away in marriage.”

“What did you do? What did you say to him?”

“Whether you want to believe it or not, I am acting on your mother’s behalf. She wanted—”

“She wanted!” Tatiana yelled. Her hands balled into fists at her side. “She wanted? Why has no one ever asked me what I wanted?”

“Your mother was the love of my life!” Ramon roared, his face flushing with anger. “She had high hopes for you and she asked me to see that you married well. You do not have to believe me, but I will sleep peacefully at night knowing that you are well taken care of.”

Tatiana’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, you asked him for money didn’t you? You went to him to receive your bride price!”

Ramon squared his shoulders proudly. “Your husband-to-be is a very generous man. He was more than willing to part with the amount I required. I am confident that a man who would go to such lengths to have you is more than worthy. He will treat you well, Tatiana, I know it.”

“Why, because the two of you shook hands and had drinks over a stack of bank registers? You sold me to him!”

“You always did refuse to see things more than one way. With you, it was always your way or no way, but I think you will find that in marriage, it cannot always be the way you wish it to be. You had better start getting used to the idea now.”

Tatiana glared at him, her fingernails biting into her palm through the satin gloves covering her hands. “Leave, now. I don’t want you here. I should never have invited you. I can honestly say that Adrian taking me halfway across the world is the best part of this arrangement. I will gladly accept it as my fate if it takes me away from you for good.”

Ramon nodded, his expression grim. “Fine, then. I will go. But you should know that it was never about the money. For me, it was always about a man’s willingness to part with his wealth. The amount that Adrian paid for your bride price was outrageous. It told me all I needed to know about him.”

“That he’s wealthy and titled?” Tatiana snorted as she turned her back on him, avoiding his reflection behind her in the vanity mirror.

“No,” her father’s voice said as his footsteps carried him from the room, “that he wanted you bad enough to give anything I asked and then some. That is the kind of man your mother and I wanted for you.”

When the door closed, Tatiana slumped against the vanity table, face buried in her hands. Her father’s visit had done nothing to squelch her fear and uncertainty. If anything, Ramon had only added to her confusion.

Did Adrian really want her badly enough to part with a large piece of his inheritance? If so, the question remained of why he wanted her so badly in the first place. Before today, Tatiana had allowed herself to think that perhaps Adrian did possess some feeling for her, however small. After all, the ring he’d given her was obviously purchased before the night of the ball. She had asked Esmeralda if Damien had loaned him the ring from the royal safe, seeing as how their quick betrothal had been a spur of the moment decision. Esmeralda assured her that Damien had no knowledge of the ring.

Had the ring been meant for her all along? Had he been carrying it in hopes of proposing to her before leaving for Martinique? The thought of Adrian laboring over which ring to choose for her left her feeling warm inside. The thought that it could have been meant for someone else left her feeling hollow. Was it possible he kept another woman in Martinique? Or that he had meant that the ring for someone else? After all, before the christening ball, Adrian had thought her nothing more than a common Gypsy girl. Surely, such an extravagant piece of jewelry hadn’t been meant for her.

As Esmeralda knocked softly on the door to inform her that the carriage was ready to depart, Tatiana stood and swiped at the tears beneath her eyes with a handkerchief before stuffing it down into her reticule. Covering her gown and perfectly styled hair with a hooded cloak, she left a room she’d thought of as her own for the last time. Tonight, she would join her husband at his townhouse and leave for a new world in the morning. Life as she knew it was now over.

****

Despite the Queen Mother’s insistence that the wedding be a lavish and grand affair, Adrian found it to be quite tasteful. He had to give credit where it was due and admit that King Damien’s mother reigned supreme when it came to the planning of parties and balls. The early morning ceremony held at Cardenas’ large cathedral was over so quickly, Adrian could barely remember any of it. All he could recall was Tatiana’s radiance as she walked down the aisle. As angry as he wanted to be with her, he couldn’t stop the softening of his heart when he first saw her appearing at the top of the long aisle leading to the altar where he stood with Roger at his side as best man.

The muted tone of her dove gray gown was a perfect match for his morning coat. While white was the traditional color for a bride, the choice to put Tatiana in the color was a wise one given the widespread knowledge of her last as well as latest scandal.  The color would have looked drab on many women of his acquaintance; it actually enhanced the rich tone of Tatiana’s bronzed skin and dark hair. The simple touches of lace and silver embroidery lent an air of elegance and refinement without burying her in frills. The strings of pearls threaded through her elaborately upswept hair glowed in the candlelight and the diamonds at her throat put all the other gems and jewels worn by the court’s ladies to shame.

Those diamonds mocked him, reminding him of Tatiana’s status, of the fact that she wasn’t what he had first thought her to be. As she stood beside him at the altar, he experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was gorgeous, yes, but she was polished, veneered in a way he had never expected to see her. It made him sad to remember envisioning their wedding in a much different way only a few days ago.

His fate was sealed nonetheless, and there was nothing to it but to endure. He recited his vows mechanically, his eyes focused on some point over Tatiana’s shoulder as he spoke the words that would bind him to her for life. Her voice was equally hollow as she responded, though Adrian hadn’t expected anything different. Their vows were not those of love, but those of obligation.

When the ceremony was over, the dry kiss he planted on her lips was met with rigid coolness and then it was over. The deed was done. They were ushered out into the courtyard of the chapel, where the sun had finally decided to make an appearance from behind gray clouds. There, they were showered with rice and applause as they walked hand in hand to the waiting carriage. The reception ball would follow at the palace and last well into the rest of the day, and Adrian steeled himself for hours of smiling and false pleasantries.

Tatiana’s smile was wide as they waved to their guests, but the moment the carriage door closeted them away from prying eyes, she collapsed against the carriage seat with a sigh, her eyes closed against his curious gaze. Her shoulders slumped as the carriage began to move, rocking gently as the horses towed them over the uneven road.

“You are quite good at that,” he remarked.

Her eyes flew open and she fixed him with a stare that was nothing short of murderous. “I am glad you noticed,” she remarked snidely, her lips curled into a disdainful sneer. “I wouldn’t want you to think you were being cheated out of your investment.”

Adrian reared back, his brow wrinkling in consternation. “Investment? What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come, do men not often brag of the wise business decisions they’ve made over cigars and brandy? Will you play the unknowing fool now that you are in my presence?”

“Tatiana, now is not the time for games,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he met her cold stare with one of his own. “If you have something to say to me, let us be done with it so that you can go back to playing the happy bride for your adoring court. I am certain many, many men are languishing your disappearance from the ballrooms of high society.”

“Ah, there it is,” she said mockingly with a dry laugh. “Ready to get down to business then, are we? Fine, I will oblige you and get straight to the point. I want to know how much.”

Adrian frowned. “How much, what?”

“How much,” she repeated, enunciating each syllable slowly and succinctly, “did you pay my father so that you could own me?”

Adrian felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. How on earth did she know about that, and how could he answer her without coming across like a complete ass? He hadn’t thought of how his paying of the bride price might seem to Tatiana and now he regretted it. He’d had his reasons at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure if he had done the right thing.

“That is not important,” he hedged carefully. “Ramon came to me and exercised his rights as your father. I am not well versed in the ways of the Gypsies, but I seem to remember being told that the bride price is a common practice.”

“I want to know how much,” she insisted, her fingernails digging into the cushioned seat. “How much am I worth to you, Adrian? I have a right to know.”

“Suffice it to say that the amount I paid will keep your father in relative comfort for the rest of his days.”

Tatiana said nothing. Her mouth pinched as she broke eye contact with him and stared out of the carriage window.

“You surprise me, wife,” he said as he studied her profile. “I would have thought you would be flattered. The butterfly of the royal court deserves nothing less. I assured your father that you would be catered to in style and comfort for the rest of your days. Is that not what you wanted?” Adrian was taken aback to see a tear rolling down her cheek as she refused to face him, continuing to stare out at the passing scenery.

“You do not know me at all,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “And I do not know you. What have we done?”

Adrian sighed and leaned back against the carriage seat. As he had before, he pondered whether or not he could trust her. Was her outrage over the bride price real, or was she just a very skilled actress? Adrian had experienced nothing but cunning and coy manipulation at the hands of the women of high society. He knew firsthand how skilled they were at playing the coquette by day and the conniving witch by night. He wanted to believe that Tatiana truly was the girl he had met at a Gypsy party, but he was not sure. He had a feeling that he never would.

“I don’t know,” he answered as the carriage came to a stop before Largess Hall. A truer statement had never been made.

****

Desmond stood on the edge of the ballroom, wiping his clammy palms on his silk knee breeches as he waited for his fiancé to draw closer. He’d been on edge since the night he’d proposed to Abigail, so distraught over the upset Tatiana had caused yet again, that he’d been afraid to talk to her, to even see her face to face. Until now.

He had to know if she still loved him, and that the Gypsy blood running through his veins would keep her from wanting to marry him. As much as Desmond would want to hate her if she spurned him now, he knew he couldn’t blame her. Abigail had been raised to expect certain things in life, and a husband of the upper class was one of them. It did not matter that Damien had gifted him with his own estate on his eighteenth birthday, or that he and Esmeralda planned to settle a healthy sum on he and his new bride to begin their new lives with. None of it mattered when her bloodline could become tainted by his. It was a thought that left him horrified of losing her, but he wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.

Desmond sprang into action when he saw her, reaching out from behind a cluster of tall floral arrangements to pluck her from the midst of her chattering friends. Abigail stumbled against him as he disappeared with her out into the warm afternoon, the garden his destination.

“Desmond, what on earth?” she protested as she trotted to match his long strides, the hem of her voluminous gown held between slender fingers.

“I must speak with you … alone,” he said as they disappeared into the hedgerow maze. As everyone was inside watching the bride and groom indulge in their first waltz as man and wife, to be followed immediately by champagne and toasts, Desmond knew he and Abigail could steal at least an hour away without being missed. He had timed their interlude perfectly.

Abigail stopped in her tracks, bringing him up short as she pulled back against his hold. “Desmond, what has gotten into you? Have you gone mad?”

Desmond whirled and grasped her about her waist, pressing her up against a tall, lush hedge and pinning her there with his body. “No, but I will go mad if you tell me you cannot marry me.”

Abigail turned her head just as he leaned in for a kiss, his lips caught the line of her jaw but he didn’t miss a beat, taking advantage of her position to taste the slender column of her throat. She whimpered and pushed weakly against his chest.

“Desmond, please, so much has happened since that night. My father … he is not pleased.”

“Damn him,” Desmond rasped as he cupped the side of her face with his hand and forced her to look at him. It pained him to see her wide blue eyes filled with tears. “Damn anyone who would stand between us, Abigail.”

“But … they will disown me. Mother told me that Father does not want Gypsy grandchildren.”

Desmond’s jaw hardened as anger shot through him. His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Did you tell him that I will never let you go? That I love you more than anything, and that I will have you for my wife? I may be a Gypsy, Abigail, but I am also a man … a man who will stop at nothing to have the woman he loves … the woman who says she loves him. Do you love me Abigail?”

“Of course I do!” she insisted, her fingers sinking into the lapels of his coat as she pulled him closer, her open mouth mere inches from his. “I don’t care where you are from, Desmond, only that you are mine.”

Desmond smiled as he lifted her, holding her close as her legs came around his waist, her skirts billowing around them. “That’s my girl,” he whispered before closing his lips over hers. Abigail responded with fervor, clawing at him wildly as her fingers raked the buttons of his shirtfront.

“There’s a way,” she whispered, her voice a half-moan. “There is a way my father would have to let us marry, but it cannot be a lie. We would have only a few weeks to make it happen.”

Desmond’s mind whirled madly as she tore his cravat away before revealing his torso, her fingers raking through the fine, dark hair sprinkled across his chest. He groaned as her pelvis ground into his in imitation of the most intimate of acts. His body responded instantly, a rush of blood filling his loins, leaving his thoughts muddled and jumbled.

“A child,” he gasped as he realized her intent. “You want to tell him you are pregnant … you want me to … God, Abigail, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a father.”

Fear lanced through him as he understood fully what was about to happen. They had only been together that one night, the night he’d climbed in through her window and accepted the beautiful gift of her maidenhead. Then, he’d thought they would be married soon and hadn’t been able to help himself. She’d tried to lure him into drawing rooms at other soirees since, but he held firm, telling her that it was too risky before he’d had a chance to officially ask for her hand. Desmond did not want their union tainted by scandal and gossip. That was Tatiana’s path, not his. Now, he would be seen as a dirty Gypsy who had soiled one of the court’s most beautiful young debutantes. Esmeralda would be so ashamed and his mother … dear God, his mother would be so disappointed.

“Do you want me for your wife, or not?” she asked as she brought her hands up to the neckline of her bodice and yanked it down, tantalizing him with a display of creamy, pink-tipped flesh. Desmond groaned in surrender as his mouth closed over the bud of one tempting nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from Abigail as she threaded her fingers through his thick, wavy hair.

“Yes,” he cried as he switched from one to the other, bathing it with his searching tongue. “I want you, forever Abigail.”

“We would have children eventually,” she panted between deep moans of pleasure as he lowered her to the grass, his fingers finding their way to the apex of her thighs as he continued his assault on her exposed breasts. “It is the only way, Desmond,” she pleaded, her hips moving in time with his searching hand, moisture and heat flooding from her core.

She was right, he realized as he fumbled with the fastening of his breeches and came down on top of her, steadying his weight on his elbows. He could not live without Abigail; he loved her too much to even think of it. If Abigail’s father wouldn’t allow the union to happen, then Desmond would have to force his hand. Bearing the bastard son of a Gypsy would be worse in the eyes of the court, than being married to one. Besides, he was the brother of a queen. Surely, they would see reason once they told her families that Abigail was carrying his child.

“I’ll do it,” he said, his heart hammering in chest, a testament to his fear. He did not know if he would be a good father. He’d lived most of his life without one and did not have much of an example to go by besides watching Damien with his niece and nephew. Nevertheless, Desmond knew that it was the only way. He could not live without her, his Abigail. He would not lose her.

As he thrust into her tight, silken sheath, Desmond forgot all doubt. He buried his face in her shoulder as brought his hand over her mouth to silence her moans. All the while, the fear of discovery heightened his pleasure to the highest of heights, until he forgot all but her, his lady, his love. His Abigail.

Chapter Sixteen

“You have such lovely hair, my dear. Doesn’t she have the most beautiful hair, Beth?”

Tatiana lowered her eyes as her new mother-in-law ran a brush through her locks, untangling it after having loosened it from the constrictive pins that held it piled on top of her head all day.

“She does, my lady,” Martha’s companion agreed from her place in a chair near the bed.

While Tatiana had absolutely no intention of giving her new husband access to her body this night, she hadn’t had the heart to refuse Martha when she asked to take the place of a maid to prepare Tatiana for her wedding night. The hastily assembled trousseau Esmeralda had gifted her the day before was filled with an assortment of scintillating nightgowns, one of which Martha had coaxed her into for the evening. The soft pink confection of silk and lace barely contained her breasts, and she was grateful for the white dressing gown covering her from view.

The world need not know that theirs was a loveless marriage, Tatiana decided. Once Martha had left, Tatiana would change into her comfortable, ratty old cotton gown and slide under the covers for a good night’s sleep. As turbulent as her thoughts were, she doubted they would keep her awake, so exhausted she was from a long day of preening and acting for the court.

“Thank you, my lady,” Tatiana answered quietly, her fingers fisted around the material of her dressing gown.

“Oh, no, child! You must call me Mama, or Mother if you prefer. After all, you are my daughter now.”

Tatiana forced a smile as she glanced up at the woman holding a lock of her hair in her hand and a brush in the other. Martha was a kind woman, nothing like she had imagined a former courtesan and prostitute would be. She was refined and graceful, and well mannered as well. It was hard to reconcile the woman from Adrian’s stories with the one standing before her now, her soft eyes a mirror image of Adrian’s, her hair a few shades lighter.

“Mother,” Tatiana said softly, trying the endearment on and finding it hard to use. She had called her own mother, Mama, and would have a hard time thinking of this woman that way. It seemed to make Martha happy, for she smiled and pulled Tatiana into her for a hug.

“I am so happy that Adrian has finally chosen a bride. I was beginning to think that he would never marry.”

“Why not?” Tatiana asked curiously. Despite her effort to remain aloof where Adrian was concerned, her inquisitive nature was winning the battle against her stubborn pride.

Martha sighed as she set the brush aside, reaching for the silver chain resting on the vanity table beside it. She looped the chain around Tatiana’s neck, smiling in satisfaction as a single, diamond pendant came to rest within the opening of her dressing gown. “Perfect,” she said with a smile. “Oh, Adrian has been through so much in his life. I am sure he’s told you many stories. The women of the court disgust him, and I suppose that is mostly my fault. His introduction to polite society was not one he wishes to remember. It left quite an impression on him, and now … well, I have said too much already I think. He would be angry to hear me speaking of his past all. Our relationship is strained, as I am sure you know.”

Tatiana stood to face her, eyeing the woman sympathetically. “I am sure Adrian will come around eventually. You know how stubborn men can be.”

Martha smiled, her eyes sparkling as she laughed. “Oh, yes, you are so right! I thought Adrian would never wed, yet here you are! I can tell you and I will be such good friends.”

Tatiana clasped the older woman’s hands in hers and gripped them tightly. “I would like that,” she said genuinely. It would be nice to have at least one friend where she was going. “Very much.”

A light knock on the door signaled Adrian’s arrival and Tatiana stiffened, her breath catching in her lungs. Martha chuckled.

“Oh, our bride is nervous. How sweet you are. Not to worry dear, my Adrian is a gentleman.”

Tatiana choked back a dry laugh as Martha crossed to the door separating her suite from Adrian’s. Beth followed and the two exited on quick and silent feet as her husband made his entrance. Still dressed in his wedding attire, sans coat and cravat, he closed the door with a soft ‘click’ and turned toward her, his expression grim.

“I thought that we should talk,” he said, his voice low. “I know that you are probably tired and it has been a long day. It can wait until morning, if you want.”

Tatiana shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage and crossed to the small sitting area of her room. She settled into an armchair with one leg crossed over the other and gestured for him to take the one across from her. “Now is as good a time as any,” she said, deciding that the ground rules of their ‘arrangement’ should be discussed sooner rather than later.

“Very well.” Adrian lowered himself into the chair across from her and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes with a tired sigh. “I wished to clear up any misunderstanding between you and I about the nature of our marriage. I do not want you to get the wrong idea.”

“No need to worry,” Tatiana interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “I understand perfectly.”

Adrian raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Do you now?”

Tatiana shrugged, not missing the way Adrian’s pupils dilated as her dressing gown slipped down to expose one shoulder and the lacy strap of her negligee. She swiftly covered the exposed skin.

“Of course,” she said with a little laugh. “You paid good money for me, after all. I want you to know that you’ve made a very solid investment.”

Adrian’s jaw clenched and a muscle in his cheek ticked in agitation. “Tatiana,” he growled with a clear warning in his voice.

“Come, Adrian, I thought we’d agreed earlier to be circumspect in our dealings. You agreed. Let us cut right to the heart of the matter, shall we?” He was obviously stunned, but Tatiana couldn’t help herself. She wanted him to know her pain over discovering that he’d bought and paid for her as if she were a brood mare. It made her feel better, at least for a moment.

Adrian was silent, his gaze averted thoughtfully, his fingers at his chin. After awhile, he set those stunning blue eyes on her and smiled. The motion was not friendly or kind. “Circumspect, you say?” he nodded, and folded his hands in his lap. “If that’s the way you want it, so be it. As my wife, I expect complete and total obedience from you at all times. I will not be made a fool of by you, or anyone else. Your past exploits are now at an end, your propensity for getting into trouble, over. When we arrive on Martinique, I will supply you with a stipend with which to buy suitable clothing. I am certain you have clothing aplenty, but the climate on the island is much different, and I am sure you will jump at the chance to adorn yourself with fripperies and such. You will receive an allowance every month to spend as you please within reason. You will not leave the plantation unless escorted by a hired companion, my mother or sister, or a footman. You will conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station as Lady Wilshire, and you will attend at my side any soiree or party at which I am obligated to attend. I know they are boring and stuffy, but you seem to like the attention. Besides, if I am to suffer, so shall you.”

Tatiana had gone stiff in her chair, her fingernails digging into the wooden arms as she trembled with rage from head to toe. How dare he think to rule over her as if he were lord and master? Part of her wanted to go flying at him, claws unsheathed, screaming her anger. Instead, she schooled her face into a mask of calm composure and stood, her hands fisted at her sides. “Very well,” she said slowly, still fighting to keep her warring emotions under control. “I am more than amenable to your rules.”

Adrian stood, his expression smug. “Good.”

“On one condition,” she added, one eyebrow raised.

He inclined his head. “What condition is that, wife?”

“I will not come to your bed. In fact, I am quite sure all that rule following will tire me unduly and I will need much rest in the evenings. I shall retire early each night, alone.” Tatiana smiled as she punctuated the word ‘alone’, watching as Adrian’s face drained of all color before going beet red.

“You cannot do that,” he hissed, advancing on her like a raging bull. Refusing to back down, Tatiana squared her shoulders and faced him. Their noses brushed as she leaned forward to meet his challenge.

“It is my body and I can do what I please with it.”

“You pledged your body to me today in front of hundreds of people and God himself. It is my right as your husband.”

“Do you think to force me?” Tatiana crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him pointedly, triumph swelling within her as he sighed and lowered his eyes from her gaze. She may not know him as well as she’d once thought, but she knew enough to know that he would never physically do her harm. Adrian was not that kind of man.

“I will not be made a cuckold in my own home,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “If you think to carry on your sordid affairs while living under my roof—”

“I fully intend to uphold my marriage vows and remain chaste,” Tatiana interjected breezily. “But I see no need for you to make use of my body.”

“Make use of your …” Adrian trailed off as he raked one hand through his hair, scoffing in disbelief. “Is that how you think of it; what we did together?”

“It certainly felt like being used. In fact, I am quite sure of it. Why else would a rich and wealthy lord spin pretty lies out of air to entice a Gypsy girl into his arms? You were quite good, I’ll give you that, but those days are over.”

Adrian’s smirk left cold chills running down her spine. “Are they?”

Tatiana backed away as he advanced on her again, stalking her through the sitting area and toward the bookcase against the far wall. Cornered, she had nowhere to go as her back made contact with the wall. Adrian’s long and broad frame blocked her escape as he planted his hands against the wall on either side of her. She turned her head to avoid his gaze, shivering as his breath grazed the side of her neck. Tatiana faintly registered cool air against her chest as her traitorous dressing gown slipped down to expose one shoulder again.

“You might be a skilled actress,” he whispered, his mouth inches from her ear, “but you cannot possibly be that good. Your passion for me, your desire, was real, if nothing else. Do you deny it?”

“Yes,” Tatiana croaked, groaning inwardly as she realized that even she didn’t believe her blatant lie. “I am very good at pretending to enjoy things I find repugnant.”

Adrian chuckled as his fingertips grazed her neck, sliding slowly down toward her collarbone. “I think not, my little dancer. No woman can fake tremors like the ones you are experiencing right now as my hand comes nearer to cupping your breast. No woman can feign breathlessness as you are feeling now, as you wait eagerly for my palm to make contact with your skin. And no woman,” Tatiana gasped as he tugged on the belt of her dressing gown, causing it to fall open completely, “dresses so scandalously for bed unless she is waiting for a lover to join her.”

Tatiana turned narrowed eyes on him, unable to resist when he was baiting her so mercilessly. “Your mother talked me into it,” she said with a shrug, accidentally sending the dressing gown fluttering to the floor. “A former courtesan has good taste in lingerie, no?”

Adrian’s smile widened as his hands spanned her waist, his thumbs circling slowly on the satin fabric caressing her skin. “You think to distract me with talk of my mother.” He shook his head and made a ‘tsking’ sound with his tongue. “Someone really is desperate.”

“I am not the one trying to force an unwilling woman.”

“Unwilling? If it makes you feel better to think so, I will allow you to continue operating under that delusion. The fact of the matter, Tatiana, is that you are practically begging for it. Your need is palpable. In fact, if I concentrated hard enough I am certain I could smell your arousal on the air.”

Tatiana gasped, pressing at his chest to put some distance between them. “How dare you! You are no gentleman.”

Adrian had her in his grasp before she could blink, pressed against the wall, his body pinning her there, leaving her with no choice but to wrap her legs around him for fear should would fall. His hands gripped her wrists, holding them captive on either side of her head as he leaned against her, his mouth grazing the side of her face and tracing a path to her lips.

“A gentleman?” he whispered gruffly as his lips lingered over hers. “No, my dear, but then I never really was one. I am the bastard son of a lord and a courtesan, a champion bare-knuckle brawler, and while I was never one to sow my wild oats, I think I am more than up to the task of taming that wild spirit of yours. In fact, I look forward to it with pleasure.”

Tatiana trembled against him, her lips parting for his kiss just before he claimed them. He moaned into her mouth, his hips flexing against hers as his shaft sprang to life insistently against her, hard, searing, demanding entrance to her body. Her response was a primitive one, the tight buds of her nipples brushing up against his chest as heat pooled low between her thighs. She whimpered as his tongue invaded her mouth, branding her, claiming her, reminding her of the power he wielded over her body whether she liked it or not. When he finally tore his mouth away, she could see that he was as affected as she, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he strained for self-control.

“Unwilling? No, my little actress, that you are not. All it would take for me to claim you is to unfasten my breeches. One motion and I could be inside of you, reminding you of exactly how many ways you truly do belong to me. I didn’t have to pay your father, or ask your cousin for your hand … you have been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you and don’t you ever forget it. Now, tell me again how much you despise me, how much you don’t want my touch, and I will leave you be.”

Tatiana glared at him, her jaw clenched in determination. Her body ached with want and it would be so easy to surrender to him, to say yes and let him claim her. The moisture and heat pooling at her core were all the proof he needed of her desire, and that alone meant that he had won. He had proven his point. But she would be damned if she allowed him to claim her. He’d already lied to her, accused her of manipulating him, and forced her into a marriage she did not want. He had even sealed the arrangement by paying the bride price to her father, an action he’d known would devastate her.

No, he could not win.

“Take your hands off of me,” she hissed, putting as much venom as she could behind her voice, “and get out of my room.”

Adrian’s eyes flashed, silver lightning mixing with the darkened blue. His jaw ticked uncontrollably now as he stepped back to allow her feet to hit the ground first before releasing her wrists. He took a step away from her and jerked on the lapel of his waistcoat, straightening it before he spoke. “You will not spurn me forever,” he warned, his thunderous expression a match for hers. “You will come to my bed, Tatiana. Willingly.”

With that, he turned on his heels and strode for the door without a glance back in her direction. By the time the door had slammed, rattling in its frame, Tatiana had lost control of her legs and slid down the wall to the floor. She buried her face in her hands to muffle the sobs welling in her chest as the reality of Adrian’s words came crashing down around her. Whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, she belonged to him now in every way. The freedom she had so desperately wanted was now impossibly out of her reach.

****

Morning came much too quickly and as Adrian rose from his bed to dress and prepare for their departure, he realized that he hadn’t slept at all. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her, his bride, standing in the middle of the bedroom in a tiny scrap of satin and lace, spitting fire and brimstone at him. He had to admit that the girl had quite a backbone, and a heavy dose of pride to go with it.

Even so, he knew she had been moments away from cracking, from surrendering to him even if only for one night. In an attempt at compelling her surrender, Adrian had only awakened the fires of his own need. He’d suffered for it, burning up from the inside as he remembered passionate moments spent with Tatiana in his arms. He had been right, Adrian knew, to call her on her bluff. No lady, no matter how skilled an actress, could feign such passion and fire. She wanted him at least, if nothing else.

As he stood over the basin of cold water behind his privacy screen, he splashed his face several times, deciding that he needed the cold dousing to clear his head. Figuring Tatiana out could take him a lifetime; fortunate—or unfortunately, depending on how one wanted to look at it—he was stuck with her for exactly that amount of time. In the end, they would both be either deliriously happy, or hellishly miserable. Adrian could foresee the future in both lights and knew that the direction their lives took from here on rested on the edge of a knife’s blade. He wasn’t sure yet if his actions the night before had caused them to move in the direction that he desired. He had proven his point, of course, but at what cost? Tatiana was sure to be furious with him for it, and he’d undoubtedly receive the cold shoulder for quite some time.

“Wonderful,” he muttered to himself absently as he deftly prepped his straight razor for shaving, “Six weeks on board a ship in cramped quarters with an angry woman.” Whoever had coined the expression, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’, was very wise.

After scraping his face free of stubble, he dressed quickly and left his room to find two footmen shouldering a massive trunk, the first of many. Adrian groaned inwardly as he remembered that he was traveling with four women. Between Tatiana and his mother, there would be enough luggage to sink the blasted ship; adding Anne’s and Beth’s belongings didn’t help matters much.

When he arrived on the doorstep of the townhouse, it was to find Tatiana, Martha, Anne and Beth climbing up into a second wagon—one not laden with their many trunks and bags. Tatiana was lovely in a burgundy travelling suit, with wide skirts and matching jacket, the frills on the collar of her dusky pink blouse spilling over the lapels. The stylish hat over her head shadowed most of her face in the light of the rising sun, but Adrian could feel her shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

The long ride to Cardenas’ dock was made somewhat pleasant by the layers of color splitting the sky as the sun slowly made its ascent on the horizon. By the time they reached the dock, the sun was peeking out from behind perfectly fluffy, white clouds, casting its rays to glitter off the surface of the crystalline blue water, a few tinges of pink still remaining where ocean met sky.

The Trident was King Damien’s personal vessel, a massive freighter that stood tall and proud against the morning sky. Its crewmen bustled about, seeing to their assigned tasks, their boots pounding out over the deck in a frantic rhythm that mingled with the bellowed commands of the captain and first mate. Crates, trunks, and boxes were being toted up the gangplank, at the bottom of which stood a group of people that included the king and queen, come to see them off.

Adrian jumped down from the wagon the moment it had rolled to a stop and assisted one of his footmen in handing the women down from the wagon. He did not miss the aggravation in Tatiana’s eyes as he offered her his hand, but she took it silently, releasing it the moment her feet were on solid ground. Adrian turned his attention to the group waiting at the bottom of the gangplank.

Along with Damien and Esmeralda was a very peculiar group that Adrian had to assume were the lady knights of Barony, as well as the woman he remembered as Tatiana’s grandmother. The old woman smiled at him as he neared, her eyes shining knowingly as her gaze darted from to Tatiana and back again. The queen did not look to happy see him, and was not shy about shooting him a narrowed glare as she rushed forward to greet her cousin. Adrian suspected he had a lot of work to do to prove himself to Tatiana’s family as more than just a lecher who’d preyed on their naïve loved one.

“Right on time,” Damien greeted with a smile, breaking some of the tension running through the group. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Adrian answered, shaking Damien’s hand as Akira and Esmeralda chatted quietly with Tatiana nearby. “You did not have to come see us off, though I appreciate the gesture.”

Damien sighed, waving toward the three women clustered together, their dark heads bent close. “We would have had to come anyway. Akira is assisting she be allowed to accompany you to Martinique. She claims the ocean air will be good for her ailments and that Tatiana will need her. I have no way of knowing what she means exactly, but then, no one ever really does.”

Adrian snorted and shook his head. “I know exactly what you mean.” At Damien’s puzzled expression, Adrian explained. “Remember when I told you that I’d met someone with eyes the same color as your wife’s?”

Damien’s eyes widened. “Ah, so you’ve met our Akira.”

“I have and I can say the experience was quite jarring. I don’t know quite what to make of it.”

Damien laughed. “No one does at first, my friend, but one thing I have learned since first meeting her and that is this: believe everything she tells you. Her words are not folly and she is not a con artist or simple palm reader. Akira sees things … things I have seen come to pass repeatedly. If she has told you something, then believe it as truth and understand that it is an inevitability.”

Adrian pondered that as his gaze lingered over his wife. Destiny. Akira had spoke of it that night in the woods when she’d urged him to follow Tatiana into the little glen. Was this his destiny then; to be tied in marriage to a woman who despised him until the day he died?

“Of course, if you object to her coming, I am sure Esmeralda can talk her out of it.”

Adrian shook his head as Damien’s voice broke through his wandering thoughts. “No, no,” he insisted. “She is more than welcome. In fact, I am sure she will be a tremendous help. Tatiana will need to adjust to her new life and a lot of things will change for her at once.”

Damien’s grin was smug. “You care about her, don’t you?”

Adrian wouldn’t deny it. “I do. I have since the moment I met her. But the road to happiness for us is, I fear, riddled with trials, the first of which has already begun.”

Damien chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “If anyone knows anything about love and trials, it is I. Now, come with me, I wish to introduce you to the lady knights and their husbands. They will accompany you as we discussed for your protection.”

Adrian once again looked to the group of mismatched people chatting and joking amiably not far from where he stood with Damien. Four women, and four men, all of whom looked comfortable with each other in a way that put Adrian instantly at ease. A dark-haired woman with a svelte form and stormy gray eyes stepped forward as Damien approached.

“Lord Adrian Wilshire, may I introduce Lady Ava Longley, captain of the ladies’ regiment of Barony.”

The woman inclined her head politely as Adrian bowed his. “At your service,” she said with a smile. “These are my sisters, Lady Hanako Overton, Lady Mudiwa Prideux, and Lady Nell Rosen. These are their husbands, Lord Garrick Overton, Monsieur Isaac Prideux, Mister Simon Rosen and my husband, Sir Julian Vincent.”

Adrian shook hands with each as he took them in, as varied in size, color and bearing as people could be. Lady Hanako was possibly the smallest woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but the fierce light of a warrior was definitely present in her sharp, narrow dark eyes and defiant stance. There was no denying that in Lady Mudiwa he quite possibly stood in the presence of a true African Amazon, a group of women he’d read about in passing. Explorers from other lands had journeyed to the continent to study and write of the female warriors that were the stuff of legend. As he shook her hand, he knew that she was myth come to life. Lady Nell was surprising as well. Quite possibly the fiercest-looking of the bunch, her ruddy complexion and pleasant smile told Adrian she was also the kindest and most patient.

Their men were as varied as they were, but it was Sir Vincent that had his attention. He smiled as the great hulking beast he’d traded blows with at MacArthur’s stepped forward to shake his hand. “You!” he exclaimed, his surprise evident. “You are the titled lord we were sent to protect?” He chuckled as Adrian nodded in confirmation. “Your Majesty, forgive me for saying so, but this man needs no protection.”

Damien laughed as well. “Of that I am well aware.”

“What are you two jawing about?” Lady Ava demanded, hands on her hips, which were incased in a pair of indecently snug, leather men’s breeches. It was obvious that the lady captain was not used to being on the edge of whatever was going on at any given moment. He found the trait endearing.

“This is him,” Julian responded as he pointed at Adrian. “Remember, darling? He is the famous pugilist I told you about.”

Ava smiled as she eyed Adrian from head to toe with approval. “Ah, you mean the seasoned fighter who knocked you on your ass at MacArthur’s?”

Julian scowled in response and Ava howled with laughter, joined by the other ladies. The other three men simply snickered covertly.

“I don’t know about that,” Adrian said, coming to Sir Vincent’s defense. “Your husband is quite good, actually. He is in possession of raw talent and a great deal of brute strength. With time and practice, I’m sure I would be in fear for my life on the other end of those great meat hooks he calls fists.”

Another roar of laughter tore through the group, this time with Julian joining in. Lady Nell wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as her shoulder shook with mirth.

“I can tell that you will deal nicely with our little group,” she declared good-naturedly. “A sure sign of a successful voyage.”

“At any rate, I hope you’ve brought your sparring gloves,” Julian said hopefully.

Adrian nodded. “I never leave home without them. With six weeks to kill, I’m sure we will find the time to break them out.”

“Before you two get down to the business of killing each other with your bare hands,” Ava interjected, “We have new information on Dorian that everyone here needs to know.”

“There will be plenty of time for that on board,” Lady Mudiwa remarked. “Meanwhile, it seems as if our captain is ready to be off.”

Sure enough, the captain was making his rounds, steering all of his passengers toward the ship. Adrian watched as Tatiana embraced a man he recognized as Damien’s butler with tears in her eyes. The man held her for a long while, his eyes misty as well. As the lady knights and their husbands boarded the ship, Adrian watched them interact. He was talking to her now, his expression stern, and Tatiana was silent, nodding occasionally.

“Jarvis is like a father to her,” Damien remarked. “When she moved into the palace he took it upon himself to look after her. He has been there for her in ways her own father never was.”

Adrian sighed inwardly as he shook hands with Damien once again and bid him farewell. He hadn’t given much thought to how Tatiana would feel leaving most of her family behind. He had not known of Jarvis, and felt like an ass for not considering the fact that Tatiana was sacrificing much in their arrangement. At some point, he was going to have to acknowledge it and make an effort to ease her into her new life. He hoped it would go a long way toward changing the tone of their relationship.

As he stepped onto the gangplank, he was met by Esmeralda, who had left a teary-eyed Tatiana on deck. Adrian paused, withering under the queen’s heated stare. “You do not like me very much, do you, Your Majesty?” he asked.

Esmeralda stared at him silently for a moment before answering. “It is not a matter of whether or not I like you. You seem like a gentleman and Damien trusts you, so that is enough for me. Tatiana is like a sister to me and she … she seems hard on the outside but she is truly fragile. In your attempt at taking her in hand, be cautious. Do not break her.”

Adrian’s heart sank at her words. He feared that Esmeralda’s warning was an omen. Tatiana was headstrong, and he could admit to being prideful. In the end, he wondered if brokenness would be the only result of their union. “I will do my best,” he promised.

Esmeralda nodded, seemingly satisfied for now. “That is all I ask,” she said before extending her hand to him. Adrian bowed over it and kissed the air above it reverently. She gave him a little smile and moved on down the gangplank freeing him to board the ship. Within minutes, they had cast off, the bow of their ship pointed toward a new existence.

****

Monsieur Geoffrey Dubois eyed the crewmen of The Trident carefully, taking note of those among them that were operating under his direction. While the king of Cardenas certainly inspired loyalty in most of his people, it was Geoffrey’s experience that every man had his price and while Dorian certainly sparked fidelity in no one but him, the sum he’d been willing to pay to turn the crewmembers of The Trident into criminals had more than done the trick. He had been sure to approach only the most desperate, those with the most unsavory of pasts, and his efforts had worked, much to Dorian’s glee.

His master was not at all pleased with Geoffrey’s report. To know that his half brother was now wedded to a woman Dorian had once laid claim to left his pride sore and his anger hot. Knowing that they now set sail for Martinique with the lady knights on board was too good to resist. His master waited, in his ship docked in Cardenas’ port, giving The Trident a head start before he pursued to execute the next phase of their plan. Dorian would have his revenge on them all in one fell swoop, and Geoffrey, for one, could not wait to see it done.

While he’d served Dorian Blake for many years, he was quite weary of it all and wished to move on with his life. He owed the man his life, a blood debt that he intended to repay. Once Dorian had done this final act, Geoffrey had no doubt in his mind that the man would finally die in peace, leaving him to pursue the rest of his life happily.

Not that serving Dorian left him unhappy. In fact, he was much better off than he had been before, and much richer besides. One last mission, he thought to himself as he blended easily into the crew going about their duties. He quickly found a scrub brush and joined a few others in swabbing the deck, effectively disappearing from sight as far as anyone who might be watching him was concerned. It was one of his many talents, blending into the background. He was so good at it, he knew even Dolly wouldn’t recognize him if she walked past. Once this ship was at the bottom Caribbean, he would disappear altogether, a distant memory to those who saw him joining the crew at Cardenas’ port.

Chapter Seventeen

Despite her earlier melancholy, Tatiana found that her spirits were almost instantly lifted by the steady clip of The Trident as it bobbed its way over the waves and the feel of the salty, moist air on her face. It was nearly lunchtime, and Cardenas had almost completely disappeared from view, the mountains bordering it rising up against the horizon in jagged purple, white-capped peaks. However, Tatiana’s interest was held by what lay ahead, an endless sea, roaring with life beneath the surface, its mysteries buried beneath prisms of light trapped within glinting waves of water.

She’d been warned that it would be weeks before they saw land, but Tatiana didn’t care. She’d always longed to sail, to leave the shores of Cardenas behind and travel the world. Now that she’d finally gotten her wish, Tatiana found that it was everything she’d hoped it would be.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of gold, glinting from the light of the sun and turned to find Adrian coming up beside her, propping his elbows up on the ship’s rail. After being shown to their shared cabin below deck that morning, Adrian had shed his coat and waistcoat and now stood on deck in nothing more than a pair of trousers held up with suspenders over a linen shirt, left open down his chest. The wind whipped his hair about his face and his eyes crinkled at the corners where he squinted against the light of the sun. The air was warm and balmy, and had caused Tatiana to shed her jacket and roll up her sleeves as well. The breeze had already whipped most of her hair free from its bun.

She turned away silently, not sure that she was ready to talk to him after their encounter the night before. Her pride still stung over his pointed demonstration. The fact that her face and neck grew hot just because of his close proximity and musky scent only added to her shame. This man had lied to her, trapped her in a loveless marriage, and branded her a manipulator in his mind. How could she still want him so badly?

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said gently, his tone warm and friendly.

Tatiana sighed and turned back to him; there was no avoiding it, really. They were sharing cramped quarters for six weeks with nowhere to go to escape one another. She would have to face him sometime. “It is,” she admitted. “Even more than I imagined.”

He smiled. “So, the wide-eyed girl who wishes to sail the world is real, is she?”

With a huff, Tatiana pushed away from the rail, annoyed. “Adrian, if you wish to spar with me, I find that just now I do not have the energy.”

His hand wrapped around her wrist gently but firmly and he pulled her back to the rail, his mouth a pinched line. “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean that the way it sounded. I just want to talk to you, about something other than … well, everything else.”

She sighed and relaxed against the rail, forcing the stiffness to leave her body. Why was she so on edge near him? It wasn’t as if he would try to ravish here right here on deck. So far, everyone had remained as the day was so fair and the excitement of the first day of the voyage was still thick in the air. They had the bow of the ship all to themselves, though, and the light wind smothered their conversation from prying ears.

“All right,” she acquiesced. “Yes, that girl is real. I have walked Cardenas’ beaches for years, hoping for a chance to leave its shores. I never thought I’d truly get the chance until … well, we said we wouldn’t speak of other things, and I suppose that includes him.”

Adrian’s hand was in hers immediately and Tatiana did not pull away. “He really hurt you.” It was more of a statement than a question, but she answered him anyway.

“Deeply,” she said, lowering her eyes to the ocean below.

“Enough to make you wary of any man who wants to love you.”

Tatiana started, her eyes going wide at his statement. Was he saying that he loved her? That he wanted to love her? In a way, he had said it before, but Tatiana had stopped believing it the moment she learned his true identity. “Was that a question?”

Adrian shrugged. “Only if you wish to answer it without getting angry. I truly wish to know the answer.”

Tatiana flexed her fingers, toying with the engagement ring and wedding band she was still growing used to wearing.

“I suppose so,” she said. “You were the first person I met that I wanted to be close to. After Andrew left me, I never wanted to marry again. Then, when I found out how treacherous he really was, I knew that I couldn’t trust myself to love anyone else. What if I made the wrong decision again and trusted the wrong person? Being hurt again after Andrew … well, it was something I did not want to have to endure.”

Adrian didn’t respond, and the two stood together silently for what seemed like hours. It had to have been mere minutes, but after awhile Tatiana grew antsy. Finally, he turned toward her, grasping her upper arms and turning her toward him. He leaned forward until they were inches apart as if he meant to kiss her, but then stopped short. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice husky on the afternoon breeze.

Tatiana felt an ache in her chest unlike anything she’d ever felt. “I know,” she whispered in response. It was the most honest she’d been with him since they’d met. Despite his small deception, Tatiana could not allow him to shoulder all the blame. She’d kept her secrets too.

His lips touched hers, gently, chastely, longingly. Tatiana swayed toward him, a low moan bubbling in her throat, but he pulled away, breaking the kiss all too soon. She forced down a whimper of regret and turned back to face the ocean. The sound of Adrian’s boots carrying him over the deck faded slowly into nothing until Tatiana was left standing at the bow of the ship, alone.

She swiped angrily at the lone tear streaming down her cheek and steeled her resolve. He’d spoken sweetly to her before, and plied her with kisses, intimate touches, and empty promises. In her heart, she wanted to love him without restraint, but her mind reasoned that she could not trust him. It also told her that no matter how badly he might wish to love her back, he did not trust her either.

Akira’s footsteps were soundless, but Tatiana felt her presence long before the old woman spoke. “You run from your fate, granddaughter,” she said softly. “I would think that after watching those around you search blindly for the right path, you would know to seize destiny when you saw it.”

Tatiana turned and scowled at the old woman. “You and your wisdom and foresight! This is your fault. If you hadn’t told Adrian to follow me, none of this would have happened and neither of us would be so miserable.”

Akira merely chuckled, the lines in her face pronounced as she smiled. “You are miserable because of your own mistakes, the both of you, but you will find the path. How long it takes you to get there is entirely up to you.”

“Enough,” Tatiana sighed, closing her eyes against her grandmother’s words. “I love you, grandmother, but I’ve had enough. No more.”

Akira merely stood beside her silently, her gnarled hands folded together on the ship’s rail, her long, hip-length hair wafting in the breeze like a silver curtain. After awhile she shifted, her eyes narrowed as she stared out over the sea. When she turned to Tatiana, the pupils of her eyes had dilated until the amber hue of her irises had nearly disappeared. She gripped Tatiana’s arm in an iron grip.

“Danger is near,” she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth, unfocused and glazed. “Beware. It will come after the storm.”

Tatiana frowned, supporting Akira’s weight as she fell limp against her. She breathed heavily, as if what she’d just seen had sucked the very air from her lungs. “Grandmother, what is it? Are you ill?”

Akira clung to her tightly, trembling as Tatiana led her slowly across the deck. “Beware,” she repeated as she slowly lost consciousness, sliding down to the deck and taking Tatiana with her. “Beware the storm.”

****

Adrian watched Tatiana closely, sympathy flooding his being as he watched her slowly sip the tea Beth had secured from the galley. The captain’s quarters were cloistered with them all crammed inside, but it was the largest room on the ship, beside the hot and cloistered galley, and he wanted everyone present for this meeting. After Akira’s episode, Beth and Martha had stepped in immediately, one of them to calm Tatiana and the other to see to Akira, who was carried by two sturdy sailors down to their shared cabin. Beth had taken to comforting a hysterical Tatiana, while Martha followed Akira below deck and saw to her. After a short while, Martha reported that Akira had regained consciousness and was now resting peacefully.

“Are we ready to begin?” Lady Ava asked gently, her concerned gaze fixed on Tatiana.

His wife set her teacup aside and straightened in her chair, relaxing as he rested his hands on her shoulders in a comforting gesture.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “It is always upsetting when Grandmother has one of her episodes, but they are happening more often as she gets older.”

Ava nodded in understanding but continued in a business-like tone. “Now that we are underway and everyone is assembled, it’s time I shared the news we received not long before we departed from Cardenas. It is said that the brothels and whorehouses received a new shipment of girls over the last week, all of them foreign. Chinese, African, English … these women are not of our land and they are captives. While there are many unsavory characters out there dealing in human flesh, I think we can assume that our friend Dorian is back in business.”

“Apparently, taking a sword to the middle wasn’t enough warning for him to stay away,” Julian said with a snort, leaning back to prop his chair against the wall behind him.

“Men like Dorian don’t back down until they are dead,” said Lady Hanako in that soft tone of hers. Her husband, Garrick, nodded in agreement beside her.

“From what I understand,” Adrian interjected, “he is near death as it is. My sister informs me that he suffers from the Pox.”

Tatiana gasped and stiffened at his fingertips and he patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Not to worry, at this advanced stage in his illness he is not contagious. From what Anne tells me, he has suffered from syphilis for over a decade.”

“No wonder his mind is so rotten,” Mudiwa remarked, her lips curled in obvious disdain. “He is mad.”

“One could stand to reason he was born mad,” Julian said, arms crossed over his chest. “The Pox has merely progressed it to a state of extreme insanity.”

“At any rate,” Ava snapped, obviously annoyed at having lost control of the meeting, “I would be willing to bet my life that he knows we are headed to Martinique. He’s too cunning and vindictive not to take action against us.”

“I thought his ship was seized,” Lady Nell spoke up from her place at the table. “How is he still able to sail from port to port with impunity?”

“He is clever,” intruded a voice from the doorway. Adrian turned to find Anne standing there, her head lowered shyly. “I am sorry for interrupting, but when I heard that you were meeting and what it was about, I knew I had to tell you.”

Adrian stepped forward to usher her into the room, closing the door firmly behind her. “Of course you are welcome,” he said, offering her the chair he had yet to make use of. “Anything that you can do to help us understand him better. You know him in a way none of us do.”

Anne sighed as she lowered herself into the chair, shrinking under the scrutiny of the others. Adrian did not miss the murderous glare Ava shot in his sister’s direction.

“She’s changed,” he said in her defense, refusing to back down under the fierce lady captain’s withering stare. “And she is under my protection. No harm shall come to Annette while she is on board this ship.”

“When I knew her, her name was Dolly,” Ava sneered.

“My name is Anne,” she protested meekly. Adrian’s chest swelled with pride. His sister might have done a lot of wrong in her life, but her obvious need to set things right touched Adrian. He appreciated seeing the fight in her, the willingness to work toward peace for everyone. “And I can tell you now that there is no understanding him. Andrew is unpredictable and he is as mad as you say, and then some. I also wanted to tell you that I know he is pursuing us.”

“How do you know this?” asked Lady Mudiwa.

“Because he came to me, a few days ago in the city market square.”

Tatiana gasped, Julian cursed foully under his breath, and Ava stared at her knowingly. “Why haven’t you given us this information before?” the lady captain questioned.

“I am telling you now,” Anne insisted. She turned to Adrian with pleading eyes. “I wanted to tell you but I knew he would have eyes and ears in your house. It is how he operates. The moment he saw me, dressed finely and free of opium for the first time in so long, he knew … he knew that you’d saved me, Adrian. He is angry with our father for giving you everything and he is angry with me because he offered me my old life back and I refused. I told him that I had a new life and it did not include him and that if he ever came near me again, my true brother would have him arrested.”

It was Adrian’s turn to be smug as he raised his eyebrows pointedly at Lady Ava. “I told you, she’s changed.” He turned back to Anne. “I really wish you had told me this before, but I’m glad you told me all the same. And I am proud of you for not buckling in the face of what I’m sure was a horrifying experience for you.”

Anne nodded, her hand coming up to the high neck of her blouse. “I am lucky to be alive. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to murder me then and there, but he let me go. It is because he knew he could trace me back to you. By the following day, I have no doubt that he knew where you lived, who lived there with you, and perhaps even knew of your upcoming nuptials.”

All eyes went to Tatiana and she blushed under their gazes. Adrian’s hands were on her shoulders again, his grip harder this time, protective.

“Mon Dieu, it is a veritable buffet of revenge!” Isaac Prideux, Mudiwa’s husband, chimed in, his French accent thick. “There is no way he will pass up the chance to kill his half brother, get revenge on the lady knights, his half sister, and a woman he once tricked into a false marriage. I knew Andrew as a child and if he is as sick and twisted now as he was then …”

Anne nodded as he trailed off. “Yes, I remember you Monsieur Prideux. Our plantations neighbored each other’s in our youth, did they not?” Isaac nodded. “Then you know as well as I do that he will not let it go, and this is his perfect chance. I would not put it past him to have eyes and ears on this ship as well. I can also guarantee that he is at least half a day behind us. His ship, The Raven, was not seized. He sold it before the French government could take the last of his assets. You’d best believe that he made enough money from the sale to purchase another vessel as well as a new identity.”

“Wait just one moment,” Julian argued, coming to his feet, his towering presence filling the room dramatically. “Are you telling us that you suspect members of the crew of mutiny?”

“We questioned them,” Ava insisted. “We questioned every single one of them as well as the captain, and he has been in service to the king of Cardenas for years. In fact, he piloted this vessel when the late King Adare was still on the throne. He is loyal and he has faith in the loyalty of his men.”

“Everyone has a price,” Anne whispered, her hands clenched into fists on the table. “That is what Dorian and Geoffrey—that’s his right hand man—always say. They are right. I have stood beside them and watched money trade hands; I have seen firsthand, men become willing to kill their own mothers for coin. If there is even one man on this ship who is in desperate financial straights, or has a criminal past, then Dorian could have gotten to him. All it takes is one and he is in.”

“Then we keep close watch on the crew,” Ava said with a decisive nod. “I have experienced Dorian’s treachery enough to realize that you might just be right in this case. We have taken every precaution and now that we are out to sea, there is nothing to do but watch and wait.”

“And pray to God he does not choose to attack us on the open sea,” Hanako said, giving voice to a fear Adrian hadn’t wanted to.

“Either way, we will be prepared,” Ava said resolutely. “Mudiwa, organize a watch schedule; I want it stuck to around the clock with one soldier watching the crew, another keeping an eye out for approaching ships. When the rest of us aren’t on watch or sleeping, we will keep our eyes on the crew for any suspicious activity. Anything that seems off should be reported, no matter how small. The two of you can help as well,” she added to Tatiana and Anne. “In fact, it might be easier for you since no one will suspect you of keeping watch. Try to act naturally and go about your business, but keep your eyes open.”

Everyone nodded their understanding and Mudiwa was already bent over a sheet of parchment, scribbling out a schedule for everyone to follow. Adrian offered Tatiana his hand as she stood.

“I believe dinner is being served shortly,” Adrian announced as he examined his pocket watch. “If anyone needs us, we’ll be taking ours below deck.”

“We will inform you of your first watch,” Ava said absently as she bent over a pile of charts and maps with Julian at her side.

“Very well,” he agreed before leading a silent Tatiana from the room. Anne followed, parting ways with them on deck to retreat to her shared room with Martha, Beth, and Akira. As they walked, he was surprised that she did not pull away from his hold. As they neared their cabin, she shivered. “What is it?” he asked, knowing she could not be cold. Even with twilight approaching, the air was still warm and balmy. “Are you all right?”

“Worried over Grandmother as well as what she said. Beware the storm. I think she was trying to tell me something.”

Adrian gave her a little squeeze as he swung the door to their cabin open, then he released her, moving to light the kerosene lamp near the door. After awhile he had three lamps lit and could see her perfectly in the dim lighting of the room.

“Damien warned me that Akira’s words are to be taken seriously.”

Tatiana nodded as she swept into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed just large enough for two, if they were willing to sleep practically on top of each other. “She knows things; they come to her in visions and dreams. She told me that danger was coming after the storm. The problem is, with Grandmother, you never know if she is being literal or speaking figuratively. By ‘storm’ she could mean anything from an actual thunderstorm, to an emotional tribulation.” She sighed as she slipped her sturdy boots off and wiggled her toes. “She can be so cryptic.”

Adrian chuckled as he slipped the suspenders from his shoulders, allowing them to hang from his trousers before he lowered himself to one of the chairs bolted to the floor on either side of a small, round table. “Either way, you and I will just have to agree to keep out eye out for storms of any kind, as well as signs of danger. Meanwhile, when Akira is up to it, we will have to ask her what she saw.”

Tatiana nodded distractedly, her gaze drawn to the flickering flame of a nearby lamp. He could see that the meeting had done little to assuage her fear.

“I’ve an idea!” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. He stood from his place at the table and crossed to where one of his trunks rested beside hers. Beneath piles of neatly folded clothing lay a stack of books, the first of which he lifted from the trunk with a smile. “We never got a chance to finish The Scarlet Letter.”

She returned his smile. “You’re right,” she said, scooting back against the headboard of the bed. “I am anxious to see what has become of Hester.”

Adrian eyed his pocket watch again before joining her on the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him before opening the book. “We’ve an hour yet before dinner. Let us see how far we can get, shall we?”

Tatiana nodded eagerly and Adrian opened the book, finding the dog-eared place where he and Tatiana had last read weeks ago. As the light of the lamp flickered, casting its eerie shadows along the walls and floor, Adrian read aloud:

“It is to the credit of human nature, that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates. Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change be impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility …”

Chapter Eighteen

Surprisingly, the first weeks of their journey passed without incident. Despite bouts of seasickness here and there, Tatiana was rather enjoying the voyage. While there were days where the crew and passengers grew restless due to close quarters, mornings and afternoons above deck proved the most entertaining. Most mornings began with Adrian and Julian stripping down to the waist and donning Adrian’s sparring gloves. While Ava, Mudiwa, Hanako, and Nell had their own routine consisting of practice with their own weapons of choice, the others often gathered around to watch, Isaac, Garrick, and Simon often given to bouts of shouting and even wagering over the fights. While Julian was improving under Garrick’s tutelage, it was clear to Tatiana to see why Adrian had been dubbed Barony’s fiercest hand-to-hand brawler.

At first, she’d thought of pugilism as a barbaric sport. She could not see the appeal in watching two men strike at each other with their fists. Now, watching Adrian, with the sun causing the light sheen of sweat coating his bare torso to gleam across stretches of taut and lean muscle, Tatiana could see the grace and finesse it required. Adrian was light on his feet and swift, his every movement controlled, well timed and precise. Knowing his analytical nature, she could practically see the wheels in his head turning as he anticipated each of Julian’s moves. It was as if Adrian knew what Julian was going to do, minutes before even Julian. It made him a fierce opponent, one she was sure could become deadly should he decide to take the gloves off and go for blood.

The thought sent a chill through her, despite the warm, balmy air and she felt her pulse fluttering wildly at her throat. She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably, the heat of the day unbearable as her own blood warmed in reaction to the sight of him.

They’d been sharing the small cabin for weeks and Adrian had yet to touch her. Tatiana knew the fault was her own. Her declaration that she would not give Adrian her body had drawn the line between them, and despite his attempt on their wedding night, he had not tried to cross it. They talked and read together, shared meals together morning, noon and night. They were separated only when Adrian took his turn on watch, sometimes during the day, and a few times at night.

They even slept together in their tiny bed, bodies pressed against one another as there was barely room for one to roll over without fear of knocking the other onto the floor. Each night passed her by in a blur of loneliness and need. Her husband lay right beside her, and she had no doubt that if she were to kiss him, or touch him, or show him in any way that she wanted him, he would have her gladly. Something held her back each time, though, and she would turn her back to him, facing the wall of their cabin, her insides afire with want.

It was becoming very clear to her that if she wanted progression of any sort in her relationship with Adrian, she was going to have to be the one to make it happen. She’d already decided that arriving in Martinique would mark a new beginning for them. She was beginning to see that the past no longer mattered; what they’d experienced their first weeks together was real, no matter who had lied to who about what. She only knew that she loved him, had loved him from the first time his lips touched hers in the little private glen. Destiny, Akira had called it. Despite her earlier anger, she could see it clearly now. Over the last few weeks of their voyage, she’d come to know him more, to understand him, to realize that he was exactly who she’d thought he was.

Her wandering thoughts were jerked back to the present as the ship rocked and rolled turbulently, tossed about by high waves. The weather had been abysmal the last few days, with winds and rain at night and turbulent seas by day. Tatiana hadn’t forgotten Akira’s warning about a storm, but for the moment could think of nothing beyond the nauseous roiling through her insides. She made it to the ship’s rail just in time to lose her breakfast over the side, her insides wrung dry as she heaved and coughed spasmodically.

Warm hands were at her back and voices surrounded her as she straightened, dizziness pulling at her from all sides. She came up against Adrian’s naked chest as she swayed and he held her as Martha’s cool hand came up to her forehead.

“She is not feverish,” Martha commented as the sky and clouds blurred overhead. “Tatiana, what is it dear? What hurts?”

She shook her head and clung to Adrian as the world finally began to right itself. “Just another dizzy spell,” she said as she attempted to stand on her own. “I’m fine now.”

Adrian studied her closely, his brow wrinkled with worry. “Sea travel is hard on you, I see. Perhaps you should go lie down for a while. I’ll come wake you for lunch if you are up for it.”

Tatiana had spent the last three days in bed due to seasickness and had so hoped to enjoy the day out on deck. It was the first sunny day they’d had all week. With only two weeks left in their journey, Tatiana was more than ready to be done with the open sea.

“I suppose it would be best,” she said reluctantly, shooting a resigned glance at the sunny sky over her shoulder. The prospect of another day spent alone in her room left her feeling low.

“I’ll keep you company,” Martha offered, taking Tatiana’s arm. “The poor girl is tired of being isolated, son,” she said to Adrian. “I’ll look after her, don’t you worry.”

“Thank you,” he said, watching them go reluctantly as Martha led her below deck.

Once they were there, Martha sent Beth for a pot of tea, and set about making Tatiana comfortable. Once she was propped up in bed with several pillows with a cool compress on her forehead, Martha sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing Tatiana closely.

“When will you tell him about the babe?”

Tatiana opened one eye and peered at Martha incredulously. “What babe? There is no babe.”

Martha frowned. “I am sorry for overstepping, but all of the signs are there. I thought for sure you might be pregnant. Oh, forgive me for making assumptions!”

Tatiana tuned her out as her mind raced over the last few months. On the night they were betrothed, Adrian had asked her if she was with child, and at the time, she hadn’t been sure. So much had happened since then she had completely lost track of time. She hadn’t had her courses in over two months, she realized as she counted the weeks. That could only mean that the child was conceived when she and Adrian first met, perhaps even that first night. She clapped her hands over her mouth and tears filled her eyes as she gazed at her mother-in-law in shock.

Martha’s lower lips trembled. “Oh dear! I am so sorry, darling. Please, don’t mind me.”

Tatiana shook her head and dropped her hands into her lap. “No, Mother, I am not upset with you. I just cannot believe I didn’t realize it until just now. You are right. I am carrying Adrian’s child.”

Martha’s smile was radiant as she grasped Tatiana to her chest and hugged her tightly. “This is wonderful news!” she exclaimed. She then pulled away and met Tatiana’s gaze, her expression solemn. “Is it not?”

Tatiana smiled lamely and shrugged, placing both hands over her still flat stomach. How could she have not known? Shouldn’t she feel different inside somehow? Aside from terrible sickness, she couldn’t say she felt much different than she had before.

“I think so,” she said carefully as she tried to think of what Adrian’s reaction would be. “It is just so soon. Adrian and I are newly married and just gaining our balance. Things happened so quickly and I just … I do not know if he will be happy about this. It’s too soon.”

Martha patted her knee. “There, now, don’t upset yourself worrying; the baby can feel it, you know. As for my son, I cannot pretend to know the secrets of his heart. His affection for me is mild and restrained and I accept all of the blame for that.”

“You did what you had to in order to survive,” Tatiana insisted. “No one can fault you for that.”

Martha shook her head, her eyes clouded with sadness. “He has not told you all of it, then. I don’t suspect he ever will, and I respect his privacy in not telling you myself. It is not that he does not trust you with the secret, child, it is just that he has so much pride. He couldn’t stand for you to pity him over the way I wronged him so long ago. But, back to the matter at hand. I know that things are not perfect between you and Adrian; the walls of the townhouse were thin and the rooms not exactly spread out over the house. I heard you arguing on your wedding night. I have seen how reserved you’ve been toward each other, though it seems to have eased during our voyage. My son cares for you, in a way that I never thought he could care for a woman. I thought I’d ruined it for him, but as it turns out, he really can love, and he does. You.”

Tatiana plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her skirt as she sat cross-legged on the bed. “I am not sure that he does.”

“Do you love him?”

Tatiana met Martha’s gaze and nodded, a lump rising in her throat as she spoke the words aloud. “I do,” she whispered. “I do love him.”

“Then you must trust that he will handle this with pride and happiness. What man wouldn’t be happy to know that his name will live on in a child from his own loins? Well,” she shrugged, “except for Adrian’s father, but that was a different matter. You are his wife, and that is his child. He will be ecstatic.”

“Still, things are so unsure between us,” Tatiana reasoned. “I need more time to set things right. I need to fix what is broken first; then I can tell him about the baby. Please promise me you won’t say anything until I am ready?”

Martha stood and smiled down at her, stroking a stray lock of her hair affectionately. “Your secret is safe with me. No one will know of it before Adrian but you and I. Perhaps that grandmother of yours, she is quite astute. I suspect she knew before either of us.”

Tatiana shared a laugh with her over that remark, but realized after that Martha was probably right.

The rest of the afternoon passed nicely with she and Martha sharing lunch in the cabin and wiling away the hours talking about babies names and decorating the nursery at Le Grove. Adrian came in eventually to see to her welfare before leaving to attend to his shift on watch, satisfied that she was well taken care of. She watched him go with pride, love blossoming uninhibited in her heart for the first time since meeting him. Gone was her uncertainty; there was no place for it anymore in her. Tatiana was tired of living in the shadows, afraid of pain and hurt and sorrow. She realized now that it came with the good and if she made a real effort at turning things around, the good would outshine the bad in every way. What could be worse than loving Adrian, only to lose his affection because she’d waited too long to bare her soul to him.

Tonight, she vowed to herself as he left, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth as he looked back at her one last time before closing the door. Tonight they would begin anew and Tatiana would cast off her pride. In the end, it wouldn’t matter which of them caved first; it would only matter that someone finally did.

****

All was quiet and well on deck, and darkness broken only by thin slivers of moonlight peeking through the heavy blanket of clouds overhead. At the bow of the ship, Adrian sat, his eyes fixed on the horizon for any sign of movement. Tatiana watched him from her place in the shadows, content to look at him unseen for the moment. His hair lay across his forehead in straight wisps disturbed by the occasional breeze. His posture was relaxed; one knee bent with his arm rested on it as he gazed off into the distance almost wistfully, his shirt left partially open to the cool night air. Tatiana wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and stepped forward after awhile, hoping to join him for a private moment on deck before his shift was over and they could retire for the night. Excitement hummed through her as she realized that she stood on the precipice of change. Tonight, she would become Adrian’s wife in truth, their physical bond finally sealed and—she hoped—their spiritual as well. Somehow, she knew that her declaration of love would not be rebuffed.

Just as she left her place near the stairs leading up to the forecastle deck, where Adrian kept watch, the sound of footsteps alerted her to the presence of another. She turned to find Martha wandering across the main deck, her silvery-blonde hair loose and hanging down her back, her skin ghostly pale in the moonlight.

“Martha?” Tatiana turned back to the main deck and reached out for her mother-in-law, her heart sinking the moment she’d gazed into the older woman’s eyes. “Oh, Martha,” she sighed as she realized that Adrian’s mother had lost her grip on time again. She could see by the faraway look in her eyes that Martha was not in her right mind at the moment. These episodes had been rare since they’d left Cardenas and Tatiana had been hoping it would last. Adrian always seemed so disheartened when Martha retreated into her past.

“Ah, my lady!” Martha said with a sly smile as she grasped Tatiana’s arm tightly in hers. “Is this not a marvelous night?”

“It certainly is,” Tatiana agreed as she allowed Martha to lead her across the deck. She remembered Beth telling her that it was best to go along with whatever memory Martha was trapped in until she could be coaxed into bed willingly. Reminding her that it was not 1830 and she was not in a ballroom would upset her and cause an even bigger scene. Tatiana hoped to get her back to bed before Adrian saw her like this. Where on earth was Beth for that matter?

“Such a lovely ball, and such a splendid occasion! Congratulations on your engagement Lady Snow.”

Tatiana stifled a giggle and decided that being Lady Snow for a few moments might be fun. “Thank you ever so much,” she said. “I am so very excited about the upcoming wedding!”

Martha stopped, forcing Tatiana to halt as well and leaned toward her conspiratorially. “My dear, you needn’t put on that act with me. I can spot a miserable bride-to-be better than anyone in this room. How dreadful of your father to betroth you to a man old enough to be your sire.”

Tatiana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but she didn’t miss a beat. “You are right. It is dreadful; but what is there to do? My family is in dire need of his money.”

Martha smiled and for a moment, Tatiana felt as if she were truly being charmed by one of the royal court’s most notorious courtesans. “How would you like to have one last hurrah? A little something to make you feel alive again before you’re shackled to a sack of wrinkles for the rest of your life.”

Tatiana giggled. “What do you have in mind?”

Martha pointed toward the forecastle deck, where Adrian had stood and was now standing on the railing, a length of rigging wrapped around his wrist. He looked majestic, like a bird of prey just about to take flight. Tatiana smiled. “Him?”

Martha nodded. “Beautiful, isn’t he? Only seventeen years of age. The boy is in his prime, I tell you.”

Tatiana tried to picture Adrian at seventeen and smiled even wider. He must have been quite a sight. Then she frowned, puzzled. What would Adrian have been doing at a society ball at seventeen? By then, his mother would have been near destitute, no longer the belle of the ball, or the youngest available courtesan.

“He’s a randy sort too,” Martha whispered as if they were old friends sharing a secret. “Can please a woman for hours without growing tired. Can you imagine? Such youth and virility at your exposure … at a very reasonable cost.”

Tatiana’s eyes widened as bile rose up in her throat. Her airway constricted until she could barely breathe, her lungs burning for air. She glared at Martha with accusing eyes. “How much?” she asked, needing to be sure but not certain she wanted the answer. How could she bear to know the truth when it seemed so awful? “How much for one night with him?”

Martha rubbed her hands together greedily and leaned in again, whispering a sum that caused Tatiana’s blood to boil. That was it? That was all she thought her son was worth? Had he really gone along with it, allowed her to sell him like a tradable commodity?

“Leave the money in the potted palm near the balcony doors and I’ll have him meet you in the blue salon in half an hour. Enjoy yourself Lady Snow, and remember that I am always available should you find yourself … in need.”

Tatiana could do more than watch, frozen to the spot as Martha turned and sauntered away to where Beth waited for her near the stairs leading to the lower decks. Tatiana swallowed repeatedly but could not seem to rinse her mouth clean of the acidic taste residing there, nor could she quiet the bundle of nerves and twisting and pulling at her insides. A courtesan selling her son for coin … Tatiana thought she’d heard it all, but this was the most shocking thing she could have imagined. Now she understood why Martha was reluctant to speak of the whole story. Who would want to implicate themselves in such a sordid matter when it was best kept a secret? Tatiana nearly jumped a mile high when Adrian’s spoke from right behind her.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, amused as she turned to face him with wide eyes. “Looking for me?”

Tatiana merely gaped at him, appearing very much, she was sure, like a fish out of water. Adrian frowned.

“Is something the matter? Are you feeling ill again?”

Her mind whirled in circles, trying to wrap itself around the information she’d just digested. Her body rebelled against it, sending a wave of nausea and dizziness through her so forcefully, she feared she might crumble into a heap right at his feet. “I understand now,” she whispered, studying his features in the moonlight. “I didn’t before…I mean, I can understand why a man of your background would have a disdain for those of the upper class, I just never…dear God Adrian, you are her son. She sold you, didn’t she? She sold you to those ladies and they used you!”

Horror flitted across Adrian’s features as he grasped her arms roughly and pulled her up into the forecastle deck and out of sight of anyone who might happen by. “Who told you?” he asked. The very sound of his voice was like another knife to her heart. It bled for him, for the little boy inside of him making his presence known in that small, tortured voice straight from his gut.

“Martha,” Tatiana answered as he released her, clutching his stomach as if he were going to be ill. He flinched at the sound of his mother’s name as if he had been struck. “She was having one of her episodes,” Tatiana added, “otherwise I don’t believe she would have told me. Adrian, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t!” he cried, his eyes wide as he glanced up at her. He leaned back against the ship’s rail, clutching it as if for dear life. “Don’t you dare, Tatiana; don’t you look at me with pity in your eyes.”

“I am not,” she insisted, coming forward, one hand outstretched to cup his face. He jerked away from her touch, inhaling sharply. “At least, I am not trying to,” she amended, aware that there was a large dose of pity mixed in with her other feelings. “It all makes so much sense now,” she said when he remained silent. “When you found out that you inherited a title, you abhorred having to become part of a world you knew was only a shining veneer. You know how treacherous they can be, how very ignoble they act despite their blue blood.”

“I thought,” he began, swallowing great gulps of air between words as if drowning on dry land, “that you were one of them. When I saw you in that ballroom … smiling, laughing … it reminded me of them. Those ladies from my past are no different than the ones walking those very same ballrooms now. They are crass, vain, vapid creatures who smile demurely while on their husband’s arms and carry on with young, virile servant boys in drawing rooms when no one’s looking. And they have the nerve … the unmitigated gall to cast stones at young ladies who lose their virtue to the men they love because they cannot help themselves. They brand women like you with words like ‘whore’ while behaving like trollops themselves! I am sickened by it, and I want no part of it.”

“I know you don’t,” she whispered, watching as he fell apart right in front of her, his trembling hands running through his disheveled hair. “You never did, did you?”

“She forced it on me,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “She came to me and told me I had to do it; said that we had nowhere else to go and she could not afford to pay for the shithole we were living in. She was getting too old to find a keeper and all of the younger, fresher courtesans were stiff competition. We were desperate and I couldn’t find a job. No one wanted to hire me because I didn’t know how to do anything.”

“How old were you?”

“The first time?” he scoffed. “Thirteen.”

Tatiana couldn’t help the cry of horror that spilled from her lips. Thirteen. She could remember just beginning to blossom into womanhood at thirteen. It was unfathomable.

“It was before her last keeper, the one that beat me. It was before the whorehouse we lived in and before my father finally took us in off the street. She caught me one day…pleasuring myself…” he blushed and Tatiana nodded.

“You were a young man discovering what his body could do,” she said gently. “You weren’t doing anything wrong, Adrian.”

“That’s what she said,” he answered with a shake of his head and a dry laugh. “It was natural, she said; I was becoming a man. She told me that because I was becoming a man, it was time I started taking care of our family. She couldn’t find work and we needed the money. I asked her what she wanted me to do and she told me to put on my finest clothes and wash up really well. I did what she asked proudly, thinking she was taking me to introduce me to someone who could give me a job. She took me to a dinner party instead. She introduced me to a friend who was also a courtesan and knew of lonely, desperate wives of the court who would pay to be pleasured by a strapping young man like me.”

“But you were only thirteen!” Tatiana protested, angry on his behalf. “You were just a boy.”

“A boy who was as tall as most men and nearly as broad. They didn’t see a boy when they looked at me. That first night she sent me into a linen closet with a young, sixteen year old debutante named Elizabeth. Her fiancé was a thirty-year-old lord who wanted his wife seasoned and schooled in the ways of pleasuring a man. My job was to take her maidenhead so that he would marry her. He didn’t want a scared, crying virgin in his bed. The man knew about it, paid for the deed to be done himself, and waited outside the closet until it was done. I thought I liked it, at first, even though Elizabeth cried when I hurt her. After the pain was gone, we enjoyed it a bit, and it was over. She thanked me for being kind to her and kissed my cheek. I never saw her again.”

“Oh, Adrian,” Tatiana breathed, unable to say anything else as tears slipped down her cheek.

“It happened so many times after that, I’ve lost count. I’ve forgotten their names and their faces; it’s all a blur. I only know that after about the tenth woman, I began to realize that this was a curse, a terrible burden to bear so that my family could eat.”

“But, I don’t understand,” Tatiana said, confused. “Martha mentioned that you were seventeen at one of those parties. Surely this did not continue after your father took you in.”

Adrian shrugged. “When she needed extra money, she would clean me up as best she could and volunteer me to serve at the parties. She would pull ladies aside—the ones she knew would pay and enjoy it—and sent them to me. She threatened to have my father throw me out if I didn’t do it, and by then I had grown used to dancing to her tune. It wasn’t until after the last time, when we were caught by a lady’s husband, that I told her no more. I didn’t care what she did to me. I would never do it again.”

“What happened?” Tatiana asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

“He challenged me to a duel for violating his wife. She collapsed in my arms when he walked in on us and cried that I was forcing myself on her. I met him in a dark park in the middle of the night with a pistol. When it was time to turn and shoot, I lowered my gun and prayed for death.”

Tatiana covered her mouth with her hands to still the sob welling up in her chest at the thought of Adrian staring down the barrel of a gun, wishing to die, so desperate to end his misery that he would simply give up.

“The ball struck me in my shoulder and the gentleman was satisfied. When I told my mother I would never do it again, she didn’t argue. I have never seen her so shaken when she thought I might die.” His voice trailed off, his vision glazed over as he stared out into the night. Tatiana moved toward him and for the first time since he’d dragged her up on the forecastle deck, he did not flinch away when she touched him. He stiffened a bit, but turned toward her as she placed her hands on his chest, stepping between the sturdy beams of his legs spread on either side of her.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, staring into his eyes as she willed him to let go of the past and love her completely. “I wish I’d known sooner, maybe I could have—”

“There was nothing you could have done,” he interposed, pressing the soft pad of his index finger to her lips. He traced the outline of her mouth gently and sighed, his body relaxing under her hands as she held him. “Nothing that happened in my past is your fault, and I have been so caught up in casting blame for the things that I’ve done and that have been done to me that I …” he paused, lowering his head to kiss her lips once, softly. “You are nothing like those ladies who used me for their own pleasure. I know this and if I am being honest with myself, I think I’ve always known that about you. Even when I saw you in the ballroom and wanted to hate you because of what I thought you represented, I knew better.”

“I wanted to be like them,” she admitted, sinking into his embrace with a sigh. “When Esmeralda first invited me to live with her at Largess Hall, I was so entranced by the beauty of it all. For the first time in my life, I was sleeping in a room as large as the home I lived in for most of my life and I didn’t have to dance for scraps. I was dressing in satin and silk and wearing fine jewels and the men, the fine lords I’d dreamt of since I was a little girl, with their finery and good manners, they called me beautiful and asked me to dance. They clamored after me as if I was something precious and I reveled in it. I loved it. It wasn’t long after I returned, burned by Andrew’s betrayal, that I found myself on the wrong side of the gossip and rumors. They turned on me with a viciousness that I could never have anticipated.”

“My poor little rose,” Adrian murmured, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, “trampled and crumpled on the ground. If you let me, I would shield you from it all.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. “We can do it for each other,” she said. “I don’t need any of it, Adrian. I only want you.”

“Do you mean it?”

She nodded, laying her head against his chest and closing her eyes as the rhythm of his heart filled her ears. “More than anything. I came here tonight to tell you that. I want us to be able to trust each other, Adrian. I want you to trust me with your heart.”

Tatiana sighed as his fingers found her long braid, massaging the back of her neck firmly but tenderly. “I’ve already trusted you with my darkest secret,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “It is the last of my secrets, Tatiana, I swear to you.”

“And I have a secret of my own that I wish to share,” she said timidly, raising her eyes to his once more. “After that, you will know exactly where I stand and there will be nothing left between us.”

He smiled and tweaked her nose affectionately. “Another secret you say? What on earth could you have to reveal that is more shocking than what I just told you?”

Tatiana leaned in close threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you,” she said, smiling as pleasure followed shock across his face.

He grasped her around the waist and lifted her until her legs were wrapped around him, laughing at her startled exclamation. When he claimed her lips, it with was joy and tenderness, the likes of which brought a fresh wave of tears and emotion. Tatiana wondered if the babe in her belly was the cause of so many varied emotions. As Adrian pulled away long enough to murmur, ‘I love you, too’, before swooping down to kiss her again, Tatiana decided it did not matter. The future was certainly brighter now, despite the danger lurking in the waters around them and the daunting task of rebuilding Le Grove plantation that lay ahead. It only mattered that the truth had finally been spoken, that Adrian finally knew what lay in the depths of her heart.

There would be time enough to tell him about the babe later, she decided as he set her back on her feet, turning to greet Mudiwa as she arrived for the first shift of the evening. Their love and sense of peace was so new; she needed time to adjust to and accept the changing happening within her own body. When she told Adrian of the child, she did not want the moment tainted by dark confessions or tears. Then, it truly would be the happiest moment of both their lives.

Chapter Nineteen

Adrian gazed down at the woman in his arms and felt overwhelmed by the rush of emotion clogging his airway. Never had he imagined that he could talk openly with any woman about what his mother had put him through. He had always imagined taking the secret to his grave, never telling anyone, not even his wife. Yet, she deserved to know and in the end, it helped her to understand him in a way that nobody else could. If Adrian wanted anyone to understand him, it was her; his wife, his wild Gypsy rose, his love.

His love.

He could say it aloud without restraint now, and in fact, he found that each time he said it, the words came easier. Once freed from the catacombs of his jumbled mind, his heart was allowed to sing freely. He loved her.

Now that they were alone, he could show her just how much. Tatiana gasped and then laughed as he swept her off her feet, marching over to the narrow bed in the corner of the room and laying her on it gently. He’d proceeded to undress her the moment the door to their cabin was closed behind him and now she lay on glorious display, her dark hair fanned out around her in a silken tapestry he couldn’t wait to sink his fingers into, her naked skin aglow from the light of the lantern by the bed.

He undressed hurriedly, pleased by the way she watched him, her eyes gone dark with desire, seemingly as eager to have him as he was to have her. She smiled and reached out for him, sighing with delight the moment their bodies came together. Adrian trembled, wracked with pleasure from head to toe at the smooth slide of her skin against his.

Inhaling her heady scent, he buried his face in the glossy tendrils of her hair wrapped around his fingers. “How is it that you always smell like wildflowers?” he mused as he gazed down at her in wonder. “It is as if you have been rolling in a field of them all day long.”

She shrugged. “A Gypsy secret,” she teased flexing her hips against his and eliciting a low groan.

“We agreed, no more secrets,” he chided, kissing the tip of her nose affectionately.

“Perhaps the gentleman can think of a way to pry the secrets from this lady’s lips,” she said, her voice a low, seductive caress stroking at the base of his spine.

“By the end of the night, I’ll have you singing like a canary,” he said with a laugh.

“Oh, yes, please,” she whimpered as he parted her legs for access to her honeyed center. “Now, Adrian, we’ve waited long enough. Make love to me now.”

“Wait,” he said as he propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at her and drinking her in greedily. “I just want to look at you for a moment. I want to always remember the moment you went from being my bride to becoming my wife.”

She lay under him silently, allowing him to drink his fill as he raked his eyes over bountiful curves and tantalizing stretches of intimate flesh meant only for his gaze. He felt a strong sense of pride and possessiveness at the thought; she was his and his alone. Surely, fate had finally begun to smile down on him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked coyly after a few moments. “Am I not what you expected?”

Adrian smiled as her words transported him to the night they first met, the night he’d let go of all his inhibitions and made love to a wild Gypsy girl in his secret cottage by the light of a blazing fire. She’d said those words to him then, posing the question as he stared at her, as much in awe of her then as he was now. He had loved her then, even if he hadn’t realized it yet. As he lowered his hand to cup the mound of one perfectly rounded breast, he uttered the same response he had that night.

“More,” he whispered as he bent down to capture the beckoning nipple between his lips. “You are so much more.”

Tatiana gasped and arched beneath him, filling his ears with the sound of her pleasure as he tasted of her flesh. As he sank into her, he lost control, drowning in a sea of endless bliss and gratification. It was as it had been before, only made much sweeter by the openness and love that flowed between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close as he loved her slowly, timing the angle and speed of each thrust to the rhythm she set with her grinding hips.

He whispered to her as he filled her to the brim, words of love and adoration that he’d been holding back for so long. His insides melted into a molten pool of rushing fire as she echoed his love back to him, her heart accepting him as readily as her body. He lifted her legs to penetrate deeper, taking them both over his shoulders as he searched for heaven.

Adrian found it, in the deepest reaches of her body and knew that she was ready to soar over the precipice when her fingernails dug into his shoulders, biting into his skin in a mixture of pleasure and pain that sent him over the edge right along with her. He thrust into her one last time before her insides convulsed around him, trapping him, holding him deep as he spilled inside of her womb, branding her forever from the inside as his.

When her spasms had stilled and she went limp beneath him, he collapsed on top of her, shifting most of his weight to his side as he held her close, his lips wandering lazily over stretches of soft, bare skin. He listened to the beating of her heart as it slowly climbed down from its frantic pace. Her breathing eventually slowed and became heavier and Adrian knew that she slept. He turned to his side and ensured that they were both covered by the blankets before reaching over to douse the lamp. Once cloaked in darkness, he allowed himself to drift away with her.

****

Adrian came up beside the captain as he studied the horizon carefully through his spyglass. Though Adrian could not see them, the man insisted that there were two ships nearby, one to the east of them and the other to the west.

“There,” he confirmed, handing the spyglass to Adrian and pointing in the direction of the vessel on the horizon. It was probably a day or two ahead of them, but Adrian could see it clearly through the glass, its white sails billowing proudly.

“Who do you suppose it is?” he asked, lowering the spyglass and adjusting his spectacles.

The captain shrugged. “Could be a French merchant, or trader of some kind. Martinique’s port is brimming with ships coming and going with goods. If I were you, I would be more concerned with the storm brewing above us and the ship to the west. It’s been following us at a steady clip and is no more than half a day behind us.”

“Andrew,” he whispered. He supposed it was all too good to be true. Just one week after he and Tatiana’s reconciliation, days away from their journey’s end, it seemed that danger in the form of his half brother was anxious to overtake them. “How much faster can we go?” he asked the captain, eyeing the dark, angry clouds above them anxiously.

“This ship is capable of sailing at twice the speed of the wind powering it. My men can have us going at forty knots within the hour.”

Adrian nodded. “Do it,” he said as he inspected the ship ahead of him with the spyglass once more. “If the ship to the west of us is Andrew, then our best chance of surviving an attack is to catch up to the ship ahead of us and pray they will have pity on us.”

“There is still the matter of the storm,” the captain reasoned. “We can increase our speed, but when that storm hits we could be blown completely off course. At this time of year, storms in these waters can be fierce. If we cannot catch up to the other ship, perhaps we can lose our pursuers by becoming lost in the storm.”

“Very well,” Adrian said as he digested the information. It was a lot to take in and there were too many possibilities to consider. The wrong decision could put them all at risk, but Adrian refused to sit on board the ship carrying his wife and friends and do nothing.

He left the forecastle and found everyone on deck, their eyes turned up toward the angry sky. The sun had been completely blotted out by clouds growing darker by the hour. Flashes of lightning foreshadowed the danger ahead. “We are being followed,” he announced without preamble to everyone present. Gasps rang out, mingling with a few muttered curses.

“It is him, isn’t it?” Anne asked as she stepped forward, shivering uncontrollably. Adrian knew it had little to do with the cool winds being produced by the coming storm. “It’s Andrew.”

Adrian nodded. “We are certain that it is.”

“His timing couldn’t be worse,” Lady Ava remarked, her narrowed silver gaze fixed on the western horizon. “That storm will hit at any moment and we are sitting ducks.”

“Martinique is only two days ahead of us,” Mudiwa reasoned. “That is what the captain said. We can only hope to reach it before they reach us.”

“There is more,” Adrian added, hoping to calm the panicked expression crossing his wife’s face. She clung to Akira and the two stared at him with solemn eyes. “The captain has spotted another ship ahead of us, close enough that it might be able to render aid if we are attacked. He has promised to do everything he can to get us sailing faster than the wind and perhaps even outrun the storm. It is our best chance.”

Julian nodded and pushed away from the deck railing. “I will go lend a hand. I haven’t sailed in some time, but I believe I still remember the basics.”

“He’s traveled a lot,” Ava remarked as her husband’s bulky frame disappeared across the deck, blending in the with bustling crewmen as they worked the lines that controlled the sails. “He knows what he’s doing. Meanwhile, what will the rest of us do; sit here and wait for something to happen?”

“We have no other choice,” Adrian argued. “I know that you are a woman of action and I respect that, but there is nothing to be done but allow the captain and crew to do their jobs and hope for the best.”

“Meanwhile,” said Isaac as he took Mudiwa’s hand in his, “there is a nasty storm coming. I am sure the captain would appreciate it if we all went to our cabins and remained out of the way of his crew. If there is anything in our rooms not nailed down, we should secure it and prepare to ride out the storm, however long it may last.”

Adrian shot Isaac an appreciative glance. “That is a splendid idea.”

A fat raindrop fell from the heavens and landed on top of his head, followed by several others. He reached for Tatiana’s hand and she came to him, dragging Akira with her. The old woman was muttering to herself as she gazed up into the sky, rivulets of water running down her face as the drops increased to a light drizzle.

“It begins,” she said ominously, her eyes fixed on Tatiana’s. “The storm. Beware the storm. Keep her close.”

Adrian did as she instructed and wrapped one arm around Tatiana before offering Akira the other. “Come, Akira,” he said. “You can ride out the storm in our cabin. I want someone there to keep Tatiana company in case I am needed on deck.”

Isaac and Mudiwa, as well as Hanako and Garrick, and Simon and Nell, were already racing across the deck, heads lowered against the growing onslaught. Adrian followed suit, ensuring that Martha, Anne and Beth were with them. Once below deck, he ushered Tatiana and Akira to their cabin before escorting his mother, sister and companion.

Anne gripped his arm as he threw open their door, gesturing for them to get inside. “He planned this,” she warned, her eyes wide as she trembled visibly. “I know he did. Andrew loves chaos and this will be too good for him to resist. If he’s going to strike, it will be soon.”

“We’ll be ready,” Adrian assured her. “Now, please, go inside and none of you come out until someone knocks on this door and tells you it is safe.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and backing away from the door as Adrian pulled it closed. A moment later, he distinctly heard the sound of a heavy trunk being pushed in front of it and smiled. His sister was a quick thinker and those instincts would serve her well.

As for the rest of them, he could only hope their intuition remained as sharp when it came to predicting the behavior of a madman and a storm. As Adrian retreated to his cabin, reaching into the waistband of his trousers to ensure that the silver pistol he’d stored there remained, he could not chase Akira’s cryptic words from his mind.

Beware the storm. Keep her close.

It was exactly what he intended to do. No one would invade this vessel and take what was his.

****

Geoffrey stood at the stern of The Trident, his eyes narrowed as he tried to spot The Dolly through slanted sheets of rain. It pelted them from all sides, stinging his skin as the ship bobbed and rocked atop churning, angry waves. Some of the waves came up high enough to splash over the deck, filling his boots with water and chilling him to the bone. All around him, crewmen worked to keep the ship adrift, their shouts to one another barely discernible over the din.

It would be so easy, he mused, to cut loose one of the rowboats tethered to the deck and toss it over the side before following it, allowing this ship to go down on its own and escape to save his own hide. But he knew better than anyone what crossing Dorian Blake could mean. If he survived the storm, he was certain Dorian would hunt him down and murder him without hesitation. Geoffrey did not doubt the man would find him. He always did.

Even though he could not see the ship in the water, he knew that it was out there, tracking them, growing closer with every second. Despite the storm, Geoffrey knew that by dawn, victory would be theirs.

A crack of thunder preceded a flash of lightning that illuminated the sky for a fraction of a second. In that moment, he spotted it, The Dolly, its form unmistakable against the night sky. As the lightning receded and cast them into near darkness once again, Geoffrey turned to the man at his side, the captain’s first mate. It had cost them a small fortune to get the man on his side, but the choice couldn’t be regretted. He was an invaluable asset to their mission.

“He’s here,” Geoffrey bellowed to be heard above the wind and rain. “Tell the men to be ready at dawn.”

The first mate merely nodded and smiled, disappearing into the darkness cloaking the ship’s deck and leaving Geoffrey to his introspection. Everyone around him was too busy to notice that he was the only man not pulling his weight. Geoffrey shrugged, deciding that it didn’t matter whether he worked alongside them to save the vessel or not. By morning, it would not matter.

****

Tatiana tossed and turned beside Akira in the narrow bed, her nerves on edge. Despite her grandmother’s warning, the woman slept peacefully now, seemingly lulled by the constant rocking of the ship being tossed about by stormy waves. Something in her—she wasn’t sure if it was intuition or raw fear—would not let her sleep. She could not shake the feeling that this night was kissed by doom and every noise or sudden movement caused her to panic anew.

“You should sleep,” Adrian’s deep voice came from the shadows. In the meager light streaming through the porthole, she could make him out in the corner, seated on one of the wooden chairs with his legs propped up on the table.

“So should you,” she whispered to the darkness.

“I am keeping watch. I can sleep later. You have been ill for weeks, you need to rest.”

Tatiana bit her lower lip to keep from telling him the real reason for her illness. He still believed that it was seasickness and Tatiana knew she would not be able to hide it anymore once they reached Martinique and they were on dry land. She had planned to tell him on the first night in their new home, but a sense of urgency suddenly overwhelmed her. She wasn’t sure why, but just then, she needed him to know.

“Adrian, I—“

“Sleep,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “We can talk tomorrow. Now I want you to sleep.”

Tatiana sighed but fell silent, burrowing deeper under the covers beside a softly snoring Akira. Within a half hour, the rain had slowed to a gentle downpour and the merciless rocking of the ship had ceased. Tatiana faintly registered the cheers and cries of the crew above as they reached steady waters and she smiled as she finally drifted off to sleep.

She awakened hours later to the smell of smoke.

****

The time was now. Geoffrey did not need a watch to know that dawn was approaching. He’d trained his body to awaken before the sun and it did now, alerting him that it was time to act. He sat up slowly and silently in his narrow cot, one of many lining the walls of the massive lower deck where the crew slept. All around him, his hired men were coming awake, slipping stealthily from their beds and brandishing the knives hidden beneath their pillows. With nearly half of the crew on his side, it took no more than one minute to silence every other member of the crew permanently.

Geoffrey quickly drew his knife from the throat of his victim and watched as the others made quick work of theirs, the only sound the soft gurgles of men taking their last, choked breaths. The coppery smell of blood filled the air and set Geoffrey in motion. Reaching beneath his cot, he found the lamp he’d stashed there, knowing that the others were doing the same without him asking.

The sounds of glass breaking rang out as the scent of kerosene mingled with that of spilled blood. As Geoffrey lit a match, soft footfalls trampled across the floors and up the ladder leading to the second deck, as they left the place they had call home for weeks once and for all. Geoffrey tossed the match over his shoulder without a look back, his feet swift as he followed the last man out. The orange glow of flames flashed just as he disappeared up onto the second deck.

The cool night air held the pleasant aftertaste of rain as he alighted on the upper deck, pleased to find his men hard at work. He joined them, palming his own bloody knife to help make quick work of the ropes binding the rowboats to the ship. They went overboard one by one, splashing in the water as they drifted, a few of the remaining close by as others bobbed out to sea. When the fire reached the upper deck, the passengers would have no choice but to burn to death or leap into the depths and drown. He intended for his men to abscond with all remaining boats.

Just as the first tendrils of black smoke curled up from below deck, Geoffrey turned to find The Dolly hot on the heels of The Trident. He grinned with glee as he signaled his men to throw their lines overboard, climbing down the long ropes and into the waiting boats. Within the hour, they would disappear like foggy mist over the ocean.

****

Adrian coughed and hacked as another mouthful of smoke filled his lungs, poisoning him with every breath that he took. The thick, black soot coating the air made it nearly impossible to see, and all he could make out was the flash of orange and yellow flame. The putrid smell of burning flesh told him that any men that had remained below when the fire was started were no more than ash now. Beside him, the lady knights and their husbands helped fight the blaze, the lower parts of their faces shielded from the smoke by dampened bits of cloth.

His cloth had long grown dry. It was useless against the smoke filling the lower deck and billowing upward to the second and upper decks. There had not been time to figure out how the blaze started or why, but Adrian had drawn his own conclusions. Anne was right; Dorian had infiltrated the crew and one, or many of them, were responsible for this. There was no other way to explain the lack of sailors below helping fight the blaze. All that remained were dead, beside the Captain, who was frantically trying to gather the women on the deck above.

Tatiana.

Her dark, wide eyes filled his mind as he accepted another armful of soaking wet sheets from Nell, who had been running back and forth to the upper deck to cast the sheets over the side in a bucket and bring them back up to fight the blaze. So far, it seemed as if they’d beaten it back a bit, but every time Adrian thought they made headway, the flames would roar in defiance and leap up into the air, licking viciously at the walls and ceiling of the deck.

“It is no use!” Julian bellowed over the crackling of the fire. “This ship is going down, now!”

“What else is there to do?” he countered as he continued batting at the flames with his wet sheets, cringing as flames licked at his knuckles. “They took the rowboats!”

Anger flared in him at the act as he remembered rushing up to the deck nearly an hour before to find it empty of all boats. There was no way off this ship except trapped in this fiery prison on board a vessel doomed to sink.

“Keep fighting it!” Ava cried as she threw her sheets down and lowered the cloth from her face. “I’m going up to try and signal the other ship!”

It was their only hope, Adrian knew. If the other ship had not noticed the smoke by now, they were doomed. If by some chance, they had noticed it and turned back, they could be hours away from salvation but only if they could last.

He fought at the flames with renewed fervor, determined not to let the vessel go down with his beloved on board. He would give his last breath if it meant that she had even the small chance of living.

****

Tatiana stumbled across the deck of the ship, fighting to keep her balance as thick smoke obscured her vision. Though the fire raged in the lowest deck, the smoke had overtaken them above, coating the air around them in acidic poison that caused her lungs to burn every time she inhaled. Hiding her face in her sleeve did little to ease her misery and her panic was swelling by the second.

Once the captain had hustled them up to the upper deck, he had joined Lady Ava in attempting to signal the other ship nearby. Though the storm had blown them closer to Martinique’s shore, as well as the other vessel, there was no way of knowing if they could survive until help arrived. Even then, Tatiana was willing to bet that Andrew was still close, too excited by the success of his plan to sail off into the sunset just yet.

“Grandmother! Martha, Beth, Anne!” she called through the fog surrounding her, hands reaching out for anything that she could grasp to help her find purchase. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, torn to shreds by the smoke filling her lungs. Desperation gripped her as she realized that she could not hear any of them and terror filled her as she spotted the flickering of orange flame on deck. If the fire had reached the upper deck, surely they were doomed.

She cried out as she stumbled, falling flat on the deck, the wind knocked from her lungs. A pain knifed through her head, chest, and hips, she realized that a hand wrapped around her ankle had caused the fall. Instinct told her that the hand belonged to someone she needed to get away from, so she kicked and flailed wildly, but to no avail. The strength sapped from her bones by the fall and smoke slowly draining the fight from her, Tatiana could do nothing as the shadowed figure of a man loomed over her.

“He will reward me handsomely for you, my dear girl,” crooned an unfamiliar voice tinged with a heavy French accent. Monsieur Isaac Prideux? No, her mind told her, this man was not him. Lady Mudiwa’s husband didn’t have a villainous bone in his body. Someone sent by Andrew, she knew without a doubt, was lifting her from the deck and throwing her limp body over his shoulder.

“Help!” she cried hoarsely, her voice smothered by the crackle of fire, nausea rolling through her as her stomach pressed cruelly against the man’s sharp shoulder. “Please, help me, someone!”

No one heard. She could barely hear her own voice, so tortured it was by the fire and smoke. As consciousness slipped slowly through her grasp, Tatiana vaguely noticed that her captor was leaping over the side of the ship with her, propelling down the side toward the only remaining rowboat floating near the ship. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she’d been saved, but at what cost? The ship was sure to go down in flame, her husband trapped inside of it. The majestic vessel would be his coffin and Tatiana would live to weather whatever fate would befall her at her abductor’s hand. Her last thought as her eyes closed were of the babe and the damage surely done by now. A hot tear splashed her cheek as she went under, a cry of desperation frozen on her lips.

****

“Tatiana! If you can hear me, please say something!”

Adrian wandered the deck of The Trident shrugging off the hands that tried to hold him back from plunging head first into smoke and flame. The ship ahead of them had, in fact, turned back, the tradesman and captain more than willing to take them onto his vessel and see them safely to Martinique.

The ship was falling apart, the fire consuming it from the bottom up. Within the hour, it would sink to the bottom of the Caribbean, never to be seen again. Desperation and fear welled up within him as he realized that all in their party were accounted for except Tatiana. The captain had reported bringing her to the upper deck with the other women, but quickly losing sight of her as smoke overtook them. Martha cried hysterically, her face buried in Beth’s shoulder, who held her silently, walking her slowly across the plank leading the way from one ship to the other. Their savior, captain of The Golden Wave, stood by, impatiently bellowing at him to abandon the ship. Julian and Isaac gripped his arms tightly, pulling him away from the fire kicking and screaming.

“She is not here, my friend,” Julian said grimly, his face drawn and covered in soot. “If we do not leave this ship, we will not be here much longer either.”

“Please,” he pleaded weakly, the fight slowly draining from his muscles as the two men dragged him across the deck, pausing at the now split rail leading them across the wide, wooden board from one vessel to the other. “She is here, I know she is. My wife, I need her, please.”

Even as they gritted their teeth and soldiered on, forcing him to abandon the ship, Adrian knew that all hope was lost. The flames were bursting through the openings leading below deck, tearing through the portholes in the ship’s side to scurry up the rigging and ignite the sails.

If Tatiana was there, she was surely consumed by now.

As his feet touched the deck of the other ship, he fell to his knees as the captain commanded his crew to cast off, pulling free of the burning ship. Eyes fixed on the vessel slowly disappearing against the horizon, Adrian felt his heart rending in two, grief washing over him so intensely, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into the ocean and surrender to the abyss.

He reached toward the ship desperately, his voice hoarse and raspy as he whispered her name repeatedly, as if saying it would cause her to materialize at his side alive and well. The other members of their party gathered around him, their expressions of pity only adding to his turmoil. A hand came to his shoulder and he flinched, feeling as if his every nerve were exposed and raw.

“I am so sorry,” Lady Ava said, her voice hitching on the last word as tears came to her eyes. “We tried to find her, but she is gone, Adrian.”

“My wife,” he croaked. “Dead?”

“No,” said another voice, Akira’s. Adrian whipped his head up to find her standing there, covered in ash but otherwise unharmed. Her yellow gold eyes penetrated his knowingly, her expression grim. He stood and advanced on her, his legs shaking as fatigue gripped him tightly.

“What?” he asked, grasping her shoulders for support more than anything else. He felt as if he would fall to the deck at any moment and die. “What did you say?”

Akira shook her head. “Not dead. Alive. My granddaughter lives.”

“Dear God,” Ava cried. Her raspy voice was barely above a whisper as she turned on the old woman. “Are you mad? Of course, she is not alive! No one could have survived that blaze!” she bellowed, extending her arm toward the flaming ship growing smaller and smaller behind them.

“Silence, you shrew!” Akira snapped, her voice clear and commanding. The lady captain’s nostrils flared in agitation but she said nothing. Julian grasped her arm gently and pulled her to him for comfort, fixing Adrian with an apologetic glance. “You think me a crazed old woman,” Akira mumbled as she limped toward the bow of the ship, her gaze locked on the horizon before them. “She is there, just ahead. Alive, I tell you. Waiting. We must save her.”

Adrian found his footing and dashed past her, up the stairs to the forecastle deck, his eyes squinting against the bright morning sun as he saw it in the distance; Martinique, a jagged stretch of land jutting up out of sea like a green paradise. It mocked him, reminded him of what would have been if his wife were still at his side. A new beginning; that was what it would have been, and now he could not even enjoy the sight of it because she was not there.

“Land,” he said flatly. “Land, ho.”

“No,” Akira said impatiently, allowing Anne to help her up the stairs to join him. “Look closer, there. Your wife is there.”

Adrian’s eyes widened as he spotted it; a ship headed toward Martinique at a steady clip.

“We passed the vessel as we came about to rescue you,” the captain said as he left the forecastle and joined them on deck. “I suspected they might have been your attackers, but saving your lives was more important than pursuit at that moment.”

“We are grateful,” Ava said as she and Julian stepped up onto the deck as well. She stared down at Akira warily, as if unsure if she could be trusted. “Do you really think she is there? On board Dorian’s ship?”

Akira nodded. “I am sure of it. She lives.”

Adrian heard nothing else as his legs gave way beneath him. His lungs were on fire and his soul was riddled with wounds that he knew would never heal without his Tatiana.

She is there. She lives.

Adrian repeated the words in his mind over and over as voices and faces surrounded him. He gave himself over to oblivion, but not permanently. No.

She lives.

There was still a chance; he would not lose hope. He willed himself to live, to survive to see her again, to hold her in his arms.

She is there. She lives.

Adrian closed his eyes as his vision faded.

Chapter Twenty

The moment consciousness returned to her, Tatiana wondered for a moment if she were dead. The blackness cloaking her vision and the numbness and weightlessness of her body had her wondering if this was what the afterlife was like. If so, was this Heaven or Hell? Was she being punished for something? Perhaps she was floating in some sort of purgatory, trapped in limbo until her soul decided to move one way or the other.

With every second that passed, she began to realize that she was, in fact, alive. The numbness began to fade and she distinctly felt the bite of a rope tied around her wrists, a rough, straw mattress beneath her body, and the dryness of a cloth gagging her. Worst of all was the raw soreness of her throat and chest. She felt as if she’d been lit on fire from the inside. With every breath, she felt as if she was fanning the flames and between those breaths, she prayed for the torment to end.

Memories assaulted her in a jumbled arrangement, and tears soaked the blindfold blotting out her vision. “Adrian,” she whispered, her voice still a small, scratchy rasp from the smoke and fire.

By now, he was dead, burned in the tomb that was The Trident, or pulled down into the depths of the sea. Her grandmother, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and Beth, who had also become a friend … all of them gone. Why would fate choose her to live? Was her suffering not yet ended?

As she had been in and out of consciousness since being taken from the ship, Tatiana had no idea where she was at this point. She knew that she’d been taken on board another ship, where a jumble of faces and voices assaulted her, overwhelming her senses until she slipped under once more, cloaked in the darkness behind her eyelids. She’d awakened again to find that the motion of a ship rocking her in a lulling motion had ceased and the rough and tumble jostling of a horse-drawn wagon told her she was no longer at sea. Had she been taken to Martinique? Was the man who had abducted her taking her to Andrew?

Now, all motion had stopped and she was sure this was where her life would end. Only one questioned remained. Why would Andrew choose her to live, while causing the deaths of everyone else? Did he hate her just for being married to Adrian? Tatiana was not sure she wanted to know the answer. She had a feeling that living in Andrew’s possession would be a much worse fate than dying.

The sound of a key scraping a lock alerted her to the presence of someone on the other side of a door. The hinges creaked noisily and heavy, booted footsteps rang out on wooden floorboards coming toward her. Tatiana sat up swiftly and regretted it, groaning aloud as dizziness knocked her back onto the mattress.

“Ah, the little vixen awakes,” said a silky, smooth, masculine voice as the door closed behind her visitor.

Tatiana’s blood ran cold as she recognized the voice. She would know the deceptively velvety tones of his voice anywhere. The gag was pulled down over her chin and she was immediately grateful to have the stale taste of the fabric out of her mouth. “Andrew,” she rasped, coughing as she tried to force her voice past the raw ache in her throat. Rough hands grasped her by the shoulders and sat her up. Light filled her vision, stinging her eyes as the blindfold was snatched away. Once her eyes had adjusted, his face filled her vision. The cruelty in the depths of his hard, glittering eyes ripped a gasp from her chest.

He was nothing like she remembered; the sweet man who had wooed and charmed her was gone and in his place stood the devil himself. The hard set of his mouth and chin and the gruesome curling of his lips contorted his face into a mask she did not recognize. The velvety brown eyes she’d fallen in love with once were cold and hard, filled with hate and malice. She winced as she noticed a large, round ulcer on the side of his neck, cringed as he swiped at the oozing blood there with a handkerchief.

“Happy to see me, love?” he asked with a chuckle. “I can honestly say that I am happy to see you. Mister and Misses Forsyth, reunited once again. Fate really has shined down upon me.”

Tatiana leveled a malicious glare at him and sneered. “My name is Lady Wilshire now, you snake!”

Andrew’s jaw ticked in agitation as he reached forward to touch her face, grasping her chin cruelly with rough, calloused fingers.

“Your husband is dead,” he hissed, sending a fresh wave of grief washing over her. He smiled in satisfaction as a tear slid down her cheek. “I watched that ship sink to the bottom of the ocean with him on it. You are Lady Wilshire no more.”

“Why?” she croaked, breaking under the strain of her turbulent emotions. “Why didn’t you just let me die with him?”

Andrew released her chin and reached out to stroke a lock of her hair, long since taken loose from its braid. His hands paused at the strap of her chemise—the only garment she was wearing—and he sighed.

“You were a gift to me from a dear friend who thought I’d gain much pleasure in possessing you. He knows me so well. Having you here, owning you,” he chuckled again and slapped his knee with mirth, “well, it is simply the sweetest victory. You see, I heard my brother’s cries of agony when he realized that you were gone. I know how much he loved you, how devastated he was to think that the fire had claimed you. He went to his death mourning that you were gone before him.”

Tatiana squeezed her eyes shut against his words, shaking her head furiously from side to side as if she could shake loose the images he provoked in her mind.

“And now,” he said as he stood from the bed, “you have more than served your purpose. Just knowing that he went to his grave, torn asunder from thinking that you were already gone … it was the jewel in my crown, so to speak.”

“If my purpose is served, then why am I still alive? What do you want with me?”

Andrew shrugged as he stood from the bed, wiping at the ulcer on his neck once more. He shifted uncomfortably and she noticed blood staining the side of his white linen shirt. She trembled at the thought that she could have suffered the same fate had she known Andrew years earlier. She thanked the heavens from saving her at least that small humiliation.

“Why, my dear, I never waste anything that could turn a profit. And you are a prime piece of flesh. I intend to get top dollar for you.”

“You cannot think to get away with this,” Tatiana cried, her body wracked with coughs once again as she overexerted herself. Her threat was empty, she knew. There was absolutely no chance that anyone could save her now.

“Of course I can, love,” he chortled. “As far as your family is concerned, you perished on board that ship with everyone else. You are dead to them.”

His words remained with her long after he had left the small, square room where she was being held hostage, locking her away once more. She wished that he had at least blindfolded her again. She preferred darkness over watching eerie shadows dance across the walls in the windowless room.

Dead.

She was dead to her family, to Esmeralda and Damien, to her father. Knowing that they would suffer when The Trident did not return brought her as much grief as Adrian’s death.

Tatiana fell back onto the mattress once more, squeezing her eyes shut and praying for death to come and claim her.

****

Dorian paused just outside the door to Tatiana’s tiny attic room, the prison he had stashed her in once returning to Martinique. Being on the island again was dangerous, but Geoffrey’s disguise had proven itself several times over and Dorian now walked the streets of the place he called home without fear. Besides, he had no doubt that the end of his life was near, and he did not care anymore if they found him and put him to death.

He only cared about the final part of his plan, the nail in Adrian’s metaphorical coffin. No, his brother was not dead. Dorian had watched with his own eyes as another ship, The Golden Wave, turned about to rescue the passengers on the burning ship. He had wanted nothing more than to turn back himself and overtake both ships, but Geoffrey would not allow it.

“The Golden Wave is a powerful force on the Caribbean Sea,” Geoffrey protested, pulling Dorian away from the ship’s rail as he screamed and cursed madly at the two vessels, linked together by a plank by which his brother and the others escaped. Rage had boiled in him so hotly, he feared for a moment that it would kill him, so swiftly and fiercely it ran through his veins.

Then, Geoffrey had showed him the limp body of the woman he’d taken while escaping the burning ship and Dorian’s world was set right again. The animalistic cries of his brother when he realized that Tatiana was gone had soothed his raging soul.

He really did love her, the fool, and that love was going to cost him dearly.

What better way to earn the ultimate revenge than by causing Adrian to suffer in the worse possible way? Allowing him to live while believing his wife dead was an even more fitting end than allowing him to sink to the bottom of the ocean.

As for the lady knights and his sister … well, he had plans for them too. Those insipid lady knights would come looking for him, he could feel it. When they did, he would be ready. And Dolly … she had yet to know his wrath. Once he had his hands on her, Dorian planned to ensure that she never left his side again. Controlling her had been easy before; he had no doubt he could earn her submission again.

“She is awake,” he said to Geoffrey, as his friend and associate materialized at his side. He would never know how the man seemed ever aware of when Dorian needed him. It was downright disconcerting, but Geoffrey was his right hand. He did not question it overmuch.

“Perfect,” Geoffrey said, grasping Dorian’s shoulder and leading down the attic stairs to the second level of the townhouse he’d rented upon returning to St. Pierre, the bustling city nestled at the foot of Mt. Pelee. “I have arranged the auction as you requested. There are many interested in the cargo, but more are curious about the exotic Gypsy girl you are offering.”

Dorian smiled, his glee running bone deep as he rubbed his hands together happily. “She will be the pièce de résistance. I have a feeling that she will fetch the highest price we have ever gotten for a single girl. Mon ami, vengeance is so very sweet.”

Geoffrey smiled as well as the two entered his chambers. Dorian retreated to the balcony, retrieving a slim cigarillo from the slim silver case in his coat pocket. He lit it and inhaled deeply, sighing with satisfaction as Geoff materialized at his side, offering him a glass of Ti punch. Dorian accepted it and groaned with delight as the taste of the white rum of the islands he adored danced on his tongue.

“It is good to be home, mon ami.”

Geoffrey sipped from his glass as the two surveyed the jagged mountains rising up out of the island. Through the thick foliage, the widespread lands of Martinique’s rich plantations blanketed the mountainside. The sight of them tormented him, mocked him, reminded him that everything he owned now belonged to someone else.

Except for the girl, he reminded himself. Tatiana was the key to the undoing of the man who had robbed him of everything by mere fact of his birth.

“Oui,” he said with a nod as he gripped the wrought iron rail of balcony with a clenched fist. “It certainly is good to be home.”

****

Four weeks later

Le Grove Plantation, Martinique

The island of Martinique was beautiful. It was a place both wild and vivid, bursting with life and abundance. When The Golden Wave had docked in the port of St. Pierre, Adrian had stood on the vessel’s deck with tears in his eyes. His only thoughts were of his wife. He had wanted to experience the amazing sights, smells and sounds of the exotic island for the first time with her at his side. “I know this island like the back of my hand,” Isaac assured him, his face lined in pity. “We will leave no stone unturned.”

They were, indeed, fortunate to have Isaac Prideux as part of their party, as no one on the island was unfamiliar with the name synonymous with one of Martinique’s largest suppliers of sugar cane. Within an hour of leaving the ship, Isaac had located an acquaintance, a merchant with a wagon large enough to carry them all, and promised him payment upon delivering them to Prideux, the plantation where his younger brother looked after the family assets.

As they rode through the streets of St. Pierre, the wheels of the carriage clattering noisily over the cobblestones, Adrian took it all in with unseeing eyes. He could think only of how Tatiana would have reacted to the sights. The spicy smell and taste on the muggy air would have enchanted her. The colorful array of its inhabitants, from the dark cocoa-colored skin of the Carib natives to the reddish hues of the Tamil Indians, would have stoked her curiosity. The colorful tapestries on display at the market, and the combined fragrances of perfumes, fish and mussels, exotic spices, and tobacco, would have all called out to her with promise.

They’d reached Prideux Plantaion, where Albert, Isaac’s brother, and his fiancé, Sabine, greeted them warmly. Isaac quickly related the details of their travels and the incident at sea, and before long they were whisked away to comfortable accommodations, where they remained for the night. Le Grove, he’d been told, was hours away. He, Martha, Beth, and Anne were welcomed at Prideux as long as they wished to remain.

By the next morning, Adrian was ready to begin the search for Tatiana and he, the lady knights, and their husbands, struck out from the mountain and journeyed back down into St. Pierre, where they’d questioned every person they encountered for information. The captain of The Golden Wave had reported sightings of the ship, as well as Andrew, his crew, and a woman who was described as ill and out of sorts. Adrian’s heart ached for her, but hope burned deep at knowing that she lived.

With every day that passed since then, the hope began to grow dimmer, as their search proved fruitless. After the initial sighting, not one member of Andrew’s party had been seen again. It was as if they had vanished completely.

Adrian ran himself into the ground, sleeping very little or not at all and striking out at dawn each morning. He scoured the mountain, rode to neighboring plantations. He even undertook the long journey to Fort-de-France, Martinique’s political capitol, in hopes that he would find her there.

Nothing.

Tatiana had simply vanished, and with her went his reason for living. Isaac warned that Le Grove had fallen into disrepair, and that many of its workers were angry and disgruntled. He was not telling Adrian anything King Damien had already told him, but he could not find it within himself to care. As the servants of Le Grove left one by one, Adrian’s moods grew darker and the light that was his hope was completely distinguished.

He sat now, alone, the drapes of his bedroom closed against the bright light of the morning sun. He was acutely aware of the fact that he’d been wearing the same clothing for three days and that he was in dire need of a haircut and shave. At some point, Martha had come to express concern over the way he was closeting himself away, but he chased her from the room, bellowing at the top of his lungs and throwing things until the master suite looked as if a hurricane had gone through it. Shards of broken glass were strewn about the rug, mingling with discarded clothing, tipped vases and overturned furniture. Here he sat and here he would remain, alone with his misery and a decanter of brandy, one that was miraculously kept filled by Julian.

The man entered his chambers once a day to refill it and leave dinner resting on the nightstand. Every day, Adrian drained the decanter glass by glass, hoping to smother his despair but to no avail. As he sat alone, he felt Tatiana’s absence even more acutely, but the sharp pain of grief was now a numb throb, one that he knew could never completely go away.

His friends tried to urge him not to give up, to continue the search, but Adrian saw no end to the misery that claimed him. Surely she could not still be alive. There was not an ounce of humanity in his half-brother, this Adrian knew. If he was the one who’d taken her from the ship—and Adrian was certain he had—then he’d long since killed her. Or, he thought with a grimace, subjected her to some foul form of torture as the life slowly drained from her.

“God in heaven, Julian how can you stand the smell?”

The sharp voice of Lady Ava Longley intruded upon his thoughts, and Adrian turned his narrowed glare on the woman bursting into his room, her eyes spitting fire at him as she strode purposefully across the room, her boots crunching over broken glass and debris.

“Leave him alone, Ava. The man is grieving.”

Ignoring her husband, Ava stalked over to the nearest window and threw open the drapes, flooding the room with light. Adrian winced, growling like an animal at the little she-devil stomping about his room, throwing open the drapes until every bit of darkness had been banished.

Ava sneered in disgust as she gazed about the room, taking in the disarray that his life had fallen into. “You are pitiful,” she spat, stalking over to where he sat, sprawled in an armchair with the decanter of liquor dangling from his fingers. “So, you’ve given up then? Will you curl up here and die like a wounded animal when your woman is still out there?”

Adrian raised bloodshot eyes to glare at the lady captain venomously. “Tatiana is dead,” he hissed, his fingers tightening around the precious bottle. “Leave me be and let me die in peace.”

Adrian raised the bottle, declining the glass resting on the end table beside him and opting to swig straight from the decanter. It was snatched from his hand faster than he could react and by the time he’d stumbled to his feet, Ava had hurled the bottle across the room, splattering the wall with liquor and sending bits of glass flying.

“Ava, enough!” Julian commanded, grasping her arm tightly. Ava shrugged out of his hold.

“No, Julian, I have allowed you to coddle him enough. The time for grief is over and the time for action is now. Right now!” she turned back to Adrian, her slender index finger jabbing in the chest. “Don’t you love her? Wouldn’t you do anything to find her?”

His anger had finally overcome the dark haze of drink and anguish he’d been buried in for days. Adrian stepped forward and grasped Ava’s shoulders tightly, shaking her roughly as he bellowed, “Yes! Yes, I love her! I have been killing myself the last month trying to find her, you irritating little harridan! She is not out there. She is …” Adrian trailed off, releasing his hold on Ava as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “She is nowhere.”

“And what if she wasn’t dead?” Ava challenge, not the least bit frightened by his outburst. “What if I told you that I knew where she was, that we’d found her? Would you fight for her?”

“Yes!” Adrian exclaimed, running hand through his disheveled, too-long hair. “Of course I would!”

Ava’s finger was poking his chest again, determination lighting a fire in her smoky eyes. “And if you could find the man who’d taken her, what would you do?”

Adrian stood, gazing in awe at the woman whose regiment had won the war in Barony. He had heard the stories like everyone else, but now, at this moment, he knew. He stood in the presence of greatness. He could see now how a woman like Ava could lead her troops as well as any man. He’d never seen so much courage and passion as there was wrapped up in this small spitfire of a woman.

“I would rip him apart with my bare hands,” Adrian vowed, his jaw set and his chest swelling with rage. “I would make him pay for every single indignity she has suffered, and I would not rest until I saw the very soul torn from his body.”

Ava’s smirk was smug as she reached into his armoire and tossed a clean shirt at him. “Good,” she said. “Clean yourself up, we have an auction to go to.”

Adrian frowned, his eyes darting back and forth between Julian and Ava. “What?”

“We’ve found her,” Ava confirmed, hurling a pair of trousers and belt his way before striding over to the washstand and retrieving a cake of soap. “For God’s sake, use this first. You smell like a chamber pot.”

“You’ve found her?” Adrian gaped at her incredulously, anger mixing with elation as his mind told him that he was not hearing things. “Christ above, woman, why didn’t you say so in the first place!”

Julian shook his head from behind her, his shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “I tried to stop her, but she was determined to bait you.”

“I had to know that you hadn’t drowned your spirit in drink,” Ava said firmly, her shoulders squared. “I had to know if you had any fight left in you at all.”

“Tatiana is my wife,” he said, his hands curling into fists around the bundle of clothing clutched in his hands. “I would go to the ends of the earth to get her back.”

“That is all I needed to hear,” Ava said with a proud nod. “Now, get dressed, there are horses waiting. I will tell you everything I know on the ride to St. Pierre.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Tatiana avoided her reflection in the full-length mirror as the man behind her ran a brush through her loose locks. He seemed to enjoy the task, taking his time with it as he groomed her, preparing her to stand on the auction block. Andrew had called the man Geoffrey, and he seemed to be his assistant in all things, including preparing captured women to become whores.

For days she had languished in the dark room, praying for death to claim her and her unborn child. Could the baby survive such conditions? After all the poisonous smoke she’d inhaled and the meager meals she had been given while sequestered in what she soon discovered was an attic, she doubted the child stood a fighting chance. Even if it did, how on earth could it survive after being born in whatever brothel she ended up in? The thought of having to hide her child under the floorboards as she serviced man after man left a sour taste in her mouth and made her think of Adrian. No, her child could not suffer the same indignities her husband had and she would not force it to. Every day she contemplated the day that she knew was soon approaching and knew that she had only one chance. When Andrew finally took her from the room to transport her to where the auction was being held, she would try to escape. If she died in the process, all the better. She would rather die and take her child with her than suffer such a cruel fate.

Today was that day. That morning, Geoffrey had appeared in the doorway followed by three burly men carrying a hipbath. Tatiana sighed with relief at the sight of it, as she had not been allowed to wash for days, and even then, she’d only been given a bowl and small cloth to use. She had never felt dirtier in her life. After the men had filled the bath with steaming buckets, Geoffrey offered her a cake of rose-scented soap and told her to wash and put on the clothing in a bundle he left for her.

Even knowing that the clothing in the bundle was scandalous at best, and that they were attempting to make her more appealing for the auction block, Tatiana took her time in the bath and enjoyed it. If it was to be one of the last small pleasures of her life, she would not waste it. Tonight, she would find herself free or dead.

After she bathed, Tatiana had stared at the scintillating attire provided for her with repugnance. She despised the thought of even wearing the getup, as it would leave her shoulders, breasts, and a good deal of leg exposed, but she knew that cooperation was key. She needed them to believe that she was resigned to her fate.

After she dressed, Geoffrey had returned with a covered platter. When he removed the silver cover from the plate with a flourish, Tatiana couldn’t help her reaction to the delicious aromas wafting up from the plate. She dug in to a dish of poached fish stuffed with lemon and herbs as well as rice prepared in a way she had never experienced before. There was also meat Geoffrey had called blood sausage, and a sweet yellow fruit he told her was pineapple. This was her favorite part of the meal. Never had she tasted a sweeter fruit. She almost asked for more, but her pride had sealed her lips. She would ask this man for nothing.

After the meal he’d powdered her exposed skin—and there was a lot of it—with something that made her shimmer before coating her face with cosmetics. She looked like a tavern whore, her lips painted a garish red, her eyes lined heavily with black kohl, and her cheeks roughed excessively.

“It is a shame, really,” Geoffrey had remarked as he applied the last of the rouge. “Your beauty is quite exquisite on its own, but this is what the brothel madams like to see. They like their wares painted up, no matter how garishly. You will sell well either way.”

Tatiana glared at him, unsure of why he would tell her such a thing. Did he think that by complimenting her, he could keep her docile and quiet? Tatiana decided that if Geoffrey were done bodily harm in the process of her escape, she would not mind it in the least.

“Ah, one last thing,” he said now as he released her hair, allowing it to fall freely down her back. He turned her in the chair and grasped her flimsy bodice, pulling gently until the tops of her nipples were exposed. Tatiana gasped and struggled, but Geoffrey merely chuckled and proceeded to rouge the exposed brown areoles.

“You need not fear my touch, ma petite fille,” he said once he was done. “Yours is not the kind of body that sends heat to my loins. No woman’s is, in fact.”

Tatiana started, gazing at Geoffrey in surprise. Sexual desire to other men was not something Tatiana had ever heard another man openly confess. In fact, in most social circles, a man like Geoffrey would be made a pariah. The fact did not make her feel sorry for him, though it did make her curious.

“There,” he said as he gestured toward her reflection. “You are ready.”

Tatiana refused to look at herself, could not bear to see what these men wanted to transform her into. In a few minutes, it would hardly matter. She would not go down without a fight.

Geoffrey handed her a hooded cloak and told her to cover herself as he donned his own coat. The three men who’d brought in the tub reappeared, and the four of them surrounded her as they escorted her from the room. At the bottom of the stairs, Andrew waited, his eyes raking her figure through the opening of her cloak with undisguised interest.

Now was her chance, she decided as her foot touched the first step. She took her time, grasping the rail tightly, her eyes fixed on the open door leading out into the night. All that stood between her and the sweet, warm evening air was Andrew and these four men. Tatiana acted without hesitation.

Keeping a firm hold on the rail, she threw her body against the man in front of her, catching him off guard and sending him tumbling down the stairs. The man in front of her and to her right, turned just in time to catch her foot in his stomach and went tumbling down after him.

Geoffrey’s voice bellowed something in French, but Tatiana was already making mad dash down the stairs. All sound ceased and time seemed to slow as the contorted face of Andrew taunted her from the bottom of the staircase.

Just get past him, and you’ll be free, her mind screamed as she tripped on the hem of her cloak, grasping desperately for the banister as she pitched forward. She felt hands grasping at her hood, her eyes tearing up as the clasp dug into her throat, choking her. As the blood pooled in her face, her air supply cut off, Tatiana knew she could either fall, or be choked to death by the cruel hands pulling on her cloak from behind.

Closing her eyes, Tatiana reached back and pulled on the cloak with a vicious tug, freeing it from Geoffrey’s hands. She threw her hands up, bracing herself from impact as her body pitched forward, the stairs flying rapidly toward her face. She managed to shield her head from a vicious blow, but could not stop the motion of her body as she tumbled down the stairs, her back, sides, and hips taking the blunt force of several stairs before she finally hit the bottom.

She groaned in pain, the wind knocked out of her as Andrew’s face loomed overhead.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chided as he crouched beside her crumpled form, his eyes alight with mirth. “Trying to escape are we? If you are not going to be a good girl, then I am just going to have to make you a bit more … amiable to what is about to happen.”

Tatiana frowned, trying to think through the intense pain tearing through her back and through her middle as he loomed over her, a pipe clenched between his teeth. The smell of the smoke wafting from it was unlike anything she’d ever smelled, more potent than even the tobacco her grandmother smoked. The cloyingly sweet smell filled her senses as Andrew inhaled and blew a large puff of smoke into her face. Tatiana coughed as the smoke filled her lungs, invading her mouth with a syrupy taste that caused her to gag.

He repeated the action again and again until she ceased fighting and coughing and fell limp on the floor. Her mind floated weightlessly, her legs and arms seemingly disjointed from her body. The pain faded as her eyes glazed over and her vision swam in a swirl of color and light. Euphoria overtook her and soon she did not care that she lay on the floor, possibly bruised all over and broken, or that Geoffrey and his men were lifting her and carrying her out to a waiting carriage. She was weightless, formless, swimming in a sea of numbness and indifference, all thoughts of death and escape forgotten.

****

The tavern was crowded, more so than it ever had been, Isaac told them as they found the only empty table in the room, near the back. Those tables closest to the crude stage jutting out from one side of the room, he’d informed them, were reserved for the highest paying bidders in the room, brothel madams and tavern owners with deep pockets and influence. Adrian eyed each and every one with disgust, his hands clenched into fists as he realized many of the men and women in this room were here to trade in human flesh. The others had simply come to watch.

“Steady,” Ava whispered at his side, the brim of her hat pulled low over her eyes. They’d all agreed that it would be best for the lady knights to disguise themselves as men and Adrian was more than grateful. Once the entertainment of watching women sold like cattle wore off, the last thing they needed was for a drunken, excited mob of men to descend upon them in pursuit of the women in his company. They were soldiers, but they were still women, each beautiful and comely in her own way. Without the distraction of their attractiveness, the group was able to observe their surroundings in relative privacy, as no one around them seemed to perceive them as a threat.

“She will be auctioned last,” Julian said, reminding him of what Anne had told them before they’d left Le Grove. His sister had begged to come, but he firmly ordered her to remain behind. She’d warned them that Andrew would not be seen there without adequate protection, and it seemed that many of the other bidders in the room had brought bodyguards as well. It made sense, he mused as he watched a brothel madam with powdered hair piled on top of her head and a painted face, take her place at a table near the front. Four large men surrounded her, eyes sharp and beefy arms folded over their chests.

Tatiana was considered the showpiece of the night, the prime selection, and would be sold last, after every other woman had been sold. Adrian did not know how long he could stomach the whole affair, but knew he had to for her sake. He was not leaving this place without her.

He had completely emptied his safe at Le Grove, and even accepted a loan from Isaac, whose fortune was stashed at Prideux, hoping to raise enough money to buy her outright. Garrick would act as the bidder, they’d all agreed, since he was the only man among them Andrew would not recognize. He, Simon, Julian or Isaac would draw Andrew’s attention and blow their cover.

Adrian had wanted to descend upon the tavern, swords drawn and guns blazing, but Ava wouldn’t allow it.

“You will endanger us all, including Tatiana,” she’d argued. “We want to ensure she is safe first.”

Damn her, she’d been right. They agreed that once Garrick had purchased Tatiana and taken her out to the waiting carriage, the rest of them would go after Andrew. The tavern owner, who was no doubt receiving a large sum to host this event, took to the stage. Adrian’s fists clenched around the arms of his chair, his vision glazing over with rage as Andrew stepped up beside him, smiling down at the crowd like a master of ceremonies. Adrian’s teeth ground together, his jaw so tight he feared his teeth would shatter from the pressure. He spoke to his assembled crowd in French, a language Andrew knew very little of. Isaac and Mudiwa quickly interpreted for the rest of the group.

The auction was beginning.

Adrian’s stomach turned violently as a group of Chinese women were shoved onto the stage, their bodies flaunted by sheer garments in a vulgar display. Hands went up everywhere and men shouted to be heard. The brothel madam near the front merely waved her hand and offered fifty gold francs for the lot of them, ending the first bidding war effectively. The large men at her table stood to shove the four women toward the exit, their broad shoulders keeping the seeking hands of the other men in the room off their merchandise.

“Where are they taking them?” Julian whispered as a lone woman was thrust onto the stage, her white-blonde hair hanging down her back in a tumble of curls. She was nude, her ample curves bared for all to see.

“There are wagons and carriages parked around back,” Ava whispered back. “They are all well guarded.”

“We must do something,” Mudiwa added as she watched the men bid on the English girl taken from the nearby island of Anguilla. She cried and sobbed loudly as the men jeered and shouted to be heard, drawing the bidding for her higher and higher. Garrick stood and threw in a few bids as they’d agreed he should. It would seem suspicious if he bid only on Tatiana. “We cannot let these women be taken away. They have families and homes.”

Adrian clenched his jaw. “We came here for Tatiana,” he said, his voice low. He knew that it was selfish of him, but she was his only care.

“That girl might have a husband too,” Mudiwa insisted. Beside her, Hanako and Nell nodded silently in agreement. “He may be as sick as you’ve been over her loss. We have to help them.”

Ava sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. If he’d learned anything about the lady captain, it was that she despised deviating from a plan.

“Fine,” she said. “We will free those women, but only after we know that Tatiana is safe and that Andrew cannot escape us. He has hurt too many people in this room already, including myself and Mudiwa. If we let him escape, he will only continue and more women will suffer this fate. He and Tatiana are our top priorities. These women will be saved, if we can manage it.”

Mudiwa nodded in satisfaction and they turned their attention back to the auction. Garrick managed to nab one of the women by bidding his gold and emerald ring, an act that made his wife’s chest swell with pride.

“At least there is one less woman we have to worry about,” Garrick remarked as he took the girl by the arm, giving her a rough shove toward Hanako. “Get her to the wagon and guard her. It will make us look authentic.”

Hanako nodded and took crying girl by the arm and Isaac followed, opting to act as the second guard. The bidding continued for hours, and Adrian’s nerves grew more frazzled with every minute that passed by.

When Andrew finally took the stage one last time, his smile wide as he made another announcement in French, Adrian sat up straighter in his chair. He did not need Isaac’s translation to know what was happening. The crowd was in a frenzy now, shouting to be heard over one another as a petite form in a hooded cloak was led out onto the stage. Adrian leapt to his feet, every muscle in his body gone tight as one of the four burly men leading her out onto the stage snatched the cloak away from her body.

The roaring in the room as his wife as unveiled to the crowd was deafening and was relieved only by the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. She was practically naked, the frilly, white confection she was wearing baring her shoulders and a good deal of bosom. It was cut short in the front to expose her thighs and just barely covered her rear. Adrian felt his fingernails biting into his palms at the sight of her nipples through the fabric, enhanced tastelessly with rouge. White stockings came up to her thighs, the tops of them decorated with white bows.

“Start bidding,” he growled, shooting Garrick a glare. All over the room, bids were flying and the brothel madam was on her feet, hand raised, eyes wide with greed.

“Not yet,” Garrick whispered. “I have it under control.”

Adrian resisted the impulse to strangle the man as he watched his wife, swaying on her feet, propped up by the men around her.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked aloud.

Ava frowned. “She’s been drugged. I don’t doubt she tried to fight them and they did it to subdue her.”

Adrian’s gut clenched and his fists flexed as his gaze zeroed in on Andrew, who worked the crowd, driving the bids higher and higher until the price was at one hundred gold francs. By the time the night was over, this man would die at his hand. He would not have it any other way.

Garrick finally stood, raising his hand as he pushed his way through the crowd. “One hundred and ten gold francs!” he bid.

Many men in the room groaned and took their seats, outbid by a man of obvious wealth. Only the brothel madam remained.

“One hundred and twenty!” she cried, shooting Garrick a murderous glare.

Garrick squared his shoulders and gazed up at Andrew, looking him square in the eye. “Two hundred gold francs and I can pay you right this second.”

Gasps rang out through the crowed as Garrick tossed the bag of coins onto the stage, the gleaming gold pieces skittering across the wooden boards at Andrew’s feet. Andrew’s eyebrows shot up as one of his lackeys stepped forward to scoop up the coins and return them to the pouch.

“Sold, to the gentleman with exquisite taste. Careful with this one, mon ami, the kitten has claws!”

He shoved Tatiana in Garrick’s direction and the man’s arms barely shot out in time to catch her as she tumbled from the stage, her head lolling lazily from her neck. Adrian and the others stepped forward swiftly, their heads lowered as they surrounded Garrick and Tatiana. Adrian resisted the urge to pluck her from Garrick’s arms as they shoved their way through the crowd, fighting back the angry men who had bid on Tatiana and lost.

The open door leading out to the night was close, and Adrian could smell the night air. He placed a hand at Tatiana’s back.

“Almost there, my heart. You’re safe now,” he whispered, praying that they would not be stopped as they made their escape.

When they finally burst out into the night, Adrian acted quickly, plucking Tatiana from her feet and running toward the wagon where Hanako and Isaac waited with the other woman they’d purchased. They stepped aside and allowed Adrian to take her up into the wagon, laying her across one of the seats. He removed his coat and wrapped it around her, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down into Tatiana’s vacant eyes. She mumbled incoherently and clung to him, writhing as if in pain.

“What’s wrong with her?” he cried, hands shaking as he inspected her from head to toe. There was a large bruise on her forehead, concealed by powder, and she flinched as his hands made contact with her sides.

“She might have a few bruised or broken ribs,” Mudiwa said as she stepped into the carriage, kneeling down beside Tatiana as she moaned and writhed. “She needs a doctor.”

Adrian swallowed past a lump in his throat as he reached out to inspect her legs and found his hand coated in sticky blood.

“Dear God, it’s coming from between her legs,” he gasped, eyeing the crimson stain spreading rapidly across the front of her nearly nonexistent dress.

“Is she with child?” Mudiwa asked, her eyes wide as she gazed from Tatiana to Adrian and back again.

“I … she wasn’t sure … that is, I don’t think … Oh, God!” he stammered, anguish and anger tearing through him like a thunderstorm. “That son of a bitch! That vile snake, I’ll rip him limb from limb!”

“Go,” Mudiwa urged, pushing against his shoulder gently. “We will take her back to Le Grove and find a doctor. I will take care of her, I swear to you.”

Adrian took on last look down at his wife, his heart torn in two at the sight of her, half-naked and bruised, completely unaware of what was happening to and around her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

“Fight,” he whispered to her. “Please fight. Don’t die on me now when I just got you back.

Julian and Ava flanked him as he jumped down from the wagon. Garrick, Hanako and Mudiwa surrounded Tatiana in the carriage, Garrick taking the reigns as he spurred the horse pulling it into a canter. They disappeared into the night and Adrian was finally able to turn back to the tavern, secure in the knowledge that Tatiana was cared for.

“Andrew,” he growled, his fists stained with Tatiana’s blood and curled at his sides. “I want him to myself. Leave him to me and go free those other women.”

Ava stared up at him, her jaw set resolutely, angry tears in her eyes. “Kill the bastard,” she said, her voice choked with rage. “Make sure he is really dead this time.”

“I’m coming with you,” Julian insisted. “He won’t be alone and you will need help.”

With a nod, Adrian took off at a run toward the back of the tavern with Julian hot on his heels as Ava, Nell, Simon, and Isaac went off in the opposite direction, weapons drawn. He was sure that Andrew and his goons would exit through the back of the stage, and Adrian wanted to be there when they did. Rage and anticipation ran hot together through his veins as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He hadn’t fought bare-knuckle in some time, but he found he was quite looking forward to it now.

“Here,” Julian called, pointing to a rough wooden door once they had rounded the side of the tavern. The sounds of gunfire and swords met them in the night, and Adrian knew that Ava was leading the charge to rescue the kidnapped and sold women.

Adrian tried the door. “Locked,” he muttered.

“Stand back,” Julian mumbled.

Adrian did as he was asked and watched as Julian managed the impressive feat of kicking the door in, splitting the wood in two.

“You really are a beast of a man,” Adrian remarked with a shake of his head.

Julian merely chuckled and followed Adrian through the broken door.

Darkness met them and they proceeded slowly, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light as they made their way slowly through what appeared to be a dressing room leading to the back of the stage. On his right, a set of rough, wooden steps led up to a second level. Adrian had seen back stairs like these many times; they usually led to rooms where prostitutes serviced their customers.

“If I were Andrew and I’d just made two hundred gold francs, what would I do to celebrate?” he mused, staring up the staircase. The dim flickering of candlelight coming from sconces lining the walls lit the way.

“By ordering a little entertainment,” Julian confirmed. “You go look up there, I’ll make sure they don’t slip out through the back.”

Julian brandished a set of pistols from the waistband of his trousers, their silver handles gleaming in the moonlight. Adrian nodded and left him behind, treading slowly and silently up the narrow staircase. He could faintly hear the sound of voices and knew he was on the right path. When he reached the landing, a row of doors on both sides confirmed his suspicions, as did the man guarding the last door at the end of the hall.

Adrian’s eyes widened as he recognized the man as a member of The Trident’s crew. “You,” he said, eyes wide as he paused at the top of the staircase. “It was you who burned down our ship.”

The man smiled as he turned, hands clenched loosely behind his back, limpid blue eyes shining with amusement. “Ah, Lord Wilshire, back from the dead I see.”

“You took her,” Adrian spat. “You took my wife and tried to kill me. You must work for my brother. Where is the bastard?”

The man merely laughed and shrugged. “Correct me if I am wrong, but aren’t you the bastard in the family?”

Adrian advanced on his slowly, eyes narrowed. “Step aside and let me into that room. I have unfinished business with your employer and I am not leaving here until it is settled.”

“I can’t let you do that,” the man protested, folding his arms over his chest and bracing his legs apart.

Adrian sighed and removed his glasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Very well then. You will simply have to die first.”

With a roar of rage, Adrian lunged at the man standing between him and the door at the end of the hall. With a smug grin, his opponent met him head on, fists clenched. The two men came together in the middle, the sounds of fists making contact with flesh and bone echoing down the hall.

****

Annette watched as Andrew advanced on her, lust flaring in his eyes as he eyed her nude figure splayed across the bed. She fought down fear as he drew closer, and hid her repugnance at the open and oozing ulcers lining his naked torso. He’d been surprised to see her, but then no one had known she was here.

When Adrian refused to allow her to come, Annette knew she could not just sit at home and wait for him to return. Knowing that Andrew was still out there, wreaking havoc on the world and destroying the lives of people she cared about, left her feeling guilty. For so long she had operated at his side, even loved him. She owed Adrian and everyone else around her a debt that could never be repaid.

Perhaps what she was about to do would make up for it. At least, when it was over, she would finally be able to live in peace.

She’d waited until Adrian and the others had been gone for half an hour before she left her room, sneaking stealthily past the chambers shared by Beth and Martha. Earlier that day, Martha had suffered another episode, dancing about the house in a negligee and calling out the name of one of her long lost lovers. It had taken Beth hours to calm her down, and Annette suspected that they were both sleeping soundly.

After stealing a horse from the stables, she had ridden hell for leather to St. Pierre, navigating the familiar streets and shortcuts with ease until she found the tavern. It was where her brother always held his auctions, and she was well aware of his practices after the deed was done. She had known he would be in a particularly good mood tonight, after having completed one of the most lucrative deals he’d ever made.

When he approached the tavern owner to pay for a room and companion for the night, Annette had slipped into the other girl’s place, lying patiently in wait for him to arrive.
When Andrew entered the room to find her naked on the bed, he reacted predictably.

“Annette,” he said silkily, his lips curving into a smile as he closed the door behind him.

“Dolly,” she whispered huskily, arching her back in invitation and stretching her arms high over her head. “Call me Dolly.”

He shuddered visibly, pleased with what he was seeing and hearing. “My love, I’ve waited for you to come to your senses. You do not know how happy it makes me to not have to punish you for leaving me.”

“I was so foolish,” she said as Dorian removed his coat and started on the buttons of his shirt, advancing on the bed slowly. “When we all nearly died on that ship, I realized how wrong I was to leave you. You’re the only one who’s ever cared for me.”

“That’s right,” Andrew crooned, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, skimming his hands over her naked skin. “That’s right, Dolly. I have always looked out for you. And now you are home, here with me where you belong.”

Annette closed her eyes and choked back bile, praying that her disgust did not show on his face. “Please, Dorian. I’ve missed you so.”

He smiled as he removed the rest of his clothing, climbing up onto the bed with her. Annette waited until he had straddled her, lowering his head toward her breast, before she struck.

Closing her hands around the hilt of the dagger she’d hidden under the pillow, Annette raised it high over her head, hypnotized by the sight of her own shadow against the wall. She watched with perverse satisfaction as the knife came down between his shoulder blades, sinking into his flesh as if it were softer than butter. Dorian gasped, jerking against her as she twisted the knife, digging in with all her might.

“Dolly,” he gasped as he weakened, his body collapsing onto hers. Annette raised the knife again, her eyes glittering with hate as she stared down at him.

“My name is Annette,” she hissed, bringing the knife down again. Blood stained her hands and she reveled in its warmth, the heat of it reassuring as she slammed the knife between his shoulders again and again. “Remember how you called me by my name the first time you came to me?” she taunted, twisting the knife cruelly, causing him to cry out in agony. “I was only twelve then, a frightened little girl. Do you remember?” The knife came down again and Annette closed her eyes as Andrew’s blood soaked them both, spilling over her naked skin and bathing her in glory. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered to him, the very words he had said to her the night he snuck into her bedroom for the first time and touched her body. “Don’t be afraid.”

Dorian jerked and convulsed on top of her for a few more moments before he went limp, his lifeless body heavy against her. The sounds of a struggle ensued outside, but Annette cared for nothing other than getting out from under Andrew’s lifeless body. She gasped for air as panic gripped her, clutching at her chest until she felt as if she would die. She shoved him and his body rolled off her and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

She gazed down at her bloodstained hands her eyes following the splatters over her arms and down to her naked breasts and belly. With a groan, she hung her head, tears pouring from her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Jesus Christ!”

The door had swung open and Adrian stood framed in the doorway, the light from the lantern flickering over his shocked face. Annette quickly jerked the stained sheets up over her body, turning her pleading eyes up to her brother, the man who had saved her. Now, she had saved him.

“I had to,” she cried, rocking back and forth as sobs shook her body. Adrian bounded into the room, kneeling beside Andrew’s body, his hands pressed to his throat.

“He’s dead,” Adrian said, his eyes wide with awe as he stared up at him. “You killed him.”

Annette’s sob increased in pitch and more tears flowed as she nodded. “I had to,” she wailed as Adrian stepped over Andrew and sat next to her on the bed, his arms coming around her. “He would never stop. I had to stop him.”

“Shhh,” Adrian crooned, patting her back softly. “You did good, Anne. You did very well. He’s gone now; it’s over.”

“I had to,” she repeated, collapsing against her brother. “I had to do it. He would never stop. I had to end it.”

“You did it,” Adrian assured her as she sobbed into his shoulder. “It’s over.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Adrian rested his chin on his folded hands and gazed down at Tatiana’s still form on the bed. She looked so small buried in the covers, surrounded by pillows, a prim nightgown buttoned up to her chin. The lace that framed her face made her look so young and innocent, like the girl she was before Andrew, and life in the royal court had ruined her.

He once thought that those circumstances had left her crumpled, trampled like a blossom underfoot. But this … seeing her like this was the worst of all, and he feared his precious rose was crushed now for good.

He could not know until she awakened and she’d been unconscious for days, waking up periodically and falling into fits of moaning and thrashing before falling back into a deep sleep. The laudanum provided by the physician kept her subdued, and he recommended they wean her off it by lowering the dose each time. Her body would crave the opium if they didn’t give her something. As laudanum carried a small amount of the addictive poppy blossom within it, it would be enough to assuage her and the doctor predicted the worst of it would be over within a week or so.

That week had come and gone, and during that time, Adrian had not left her side.

When he’d left the upper room of the tavern, with a hysterical Annette in his arms, he’d found Andrew’s right hand man, Geoffrey, in Julian’s custody where he’d left him. The man’s face was a bloody mess and Adrian was sporting swollen, bruised knuckles, but the fight had assuaged his blood lust for now. Finding Annette covered in Andrew’s blood had taken the fight right out of him. Justice had been dealt, and there was nothing more he could do. When the Frenchman saw that his master had died, he ceased struggling in Julian’s hold and dejectedly slumped his shoulders, seemingly resigned to whatever fate they wanted to inflict upon him.

They settled for turning him over to the French authorities, who gladly accepted him, as well as Andrew’s dead body as proof that the deed had been done. With that, his hands were washed forever of the pain and bloodshed his brother had caused. Ava and the others had absconded from the tavern with three wagons full of women, many of whom were now boarding ships to return to their respective homes.

Now, with every other loose end tied up neatly, Adrian hadn’t had a choice but to write Esmeralda and Damien and tell them everything that had happened in the last few months. They deserved the truth, as did the families of those men lost when The Trident was set ablaze. The letter had been sent and Adrian knew the response would be slow in coming, but at the very least, he could rest easy in being able to tell them that Tatiana was alive and well. Just a few weeks ago, he’d dreaded having to write them and report her death.

A soft knock on the door alerted him just before his mother stepped into the room. “Adrian, may I have a moment?”

He nodded silently, running a hand over his tired face. Tatiana slept peacefully for now and the worst of their troubles were over. He could leave her side without fear. He ushered his mother through the door of Tatiana’s bedroom, to the sitting room separating his suite from hers. Isaac had brought several servants from Prideux, and they gladly offered their services in helping to set the large manor home to rights again. Adrian was awed by how quickly and efficiently they’d tidied his room. It was as if those hellish four weeks had never happened.

“I wanted to inform you that Annette is doing quite well,” Martha said once they were alone in the sitting room. For weeks, his sister had been living in a fog as well, although hers was much different than Tatiana’s. She’d wandered the manor aimlessly, her eyes vacant and her skin taking on a startling pallor.

“That is good to hear,” Adrian said politely, his voice strained. He and Martha had hardly spoken since her episode on the ship, when she had spilled his secret to Tatiana. It was hard, having to look at her and deal politely with her, when that night had torn open so many of the wounds he’d thought healed.

“How is she?” she asked, her eyes darting toward the door leading to his wife’s room.

“She is faring well,” he said. “Although I dread having to tell her about the babe when she wakes up. I am not even sure that she knew she was with child.”

Martha cleared her throat and lowered her eyes. “She knew,” she said, her voice low. “She begged me not to say anything until she was ready. Things were so uncertain between you then and she … Tatiana just wanted to know that things would be all right between the two of you before she told you. She was afraid you would not be happy.”

Adrian sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I would have been,” he said, his heart clenching with sadness at the thought of what he and Tatiana had lost. “How could I not be?”

“I wish I had told you,” Martha said, her eyes growing misty. “You had a right to know.”

Adrian shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’s quite all right. Tatiana needed someone she could trust at that time, and that man was not me. We had our differences, but we overcame them.”

Martha sighed. “I suppose that is all my fault.”

“It is,” Adrian said bluntly. Martha flinched as she glanced up at him in surprise. “I do not say it to hurt you, mother,” he added, gently. “I say it because it needs to be said. I almost lost you and Tatiana both and I realize that there are so many things I need to say, things that would have gone unsaid had you perished on that ship.”

Martha straightened in her chair and nodded. “Please, do go on.”

“For most of my adult life, I have mistrusted people of the upper class, hated them for what they represent and the lies they live. I suppose I would have anyway, given that I was denied everything that was my birthright merely because you were not born of noble blood. Yet, we both know what has fanned the flames of my hatred.”

Martha nodded again, her lips pressed together tightly as she fought back tears. “You cannot know how much I regret my actions. They cannot be excused and I will not attempt to try.”

Adrian nodded and stood, crossing to kneel in front of his mother’s chair. He took her hands in his and kissed the back of one reverently.

“I forgive you,” he whispered, smiling at her shocked expression. “I forgive you for all of it.”

Martha blinked rapidly, her voice a choked whisper as she spoke. “I do not deserve it.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. But I do.” When she frowned, he continued. “You see, I almost missed my chance with the woman of my dreams because I thought I could not trust her. Do you know why I didn’t trust her?” Martha shook her head. “Because I discovered that she was a titled lady, the cousin of a queen. I saw her dressed up in all her finery and dancing in a glittering ballroom and I despised her for what she represented. By associating her with those other women, I almost missed out on what was right in front of my face. A woman who loves me and who deserves my love. She deserves the best of me, and I cannot give that to her unless I forgive you for what you did to me. I cannot love her completely until I let go of the past and to do that, I have to love you regardless of what you’ve done and who you were. Do you understand?”

Martha burst into tears, collapsing against him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, Adrian. I do love you, my son! How could you ever love me when I do not even love myself?”

Adrian raised his head and looked into her eyes, his smile sad. “That is something you will have to learn to do on your own.”

****

Two Months Later…

The salty ocean air surrounded her as the sound of waves crashing up against the cliffs filled her ears. She squinted against the brightness of the morning sun as it peaked out at her from behind perfect, white clouds. The rays felt heavenly on her skin and the light breeze tickling across her skin reminded her of a lover’s caress … her husband’s touch.

Adrian.

She smiled as the image of his beautiful blue eyes flashed through her mind. He was busy looking after Le Grove, but she knew to expect him soon. When he returned from the fields to find her not at the manor, he would know exactly where to find her.

They had discovered the quaint little cabin about a mile away from the manor, nestled in a little grove ringed by swaying palms and overgrown jungle. They had worked together to set it to rights, just as they had their cabin in the shaded glen in Cardenas, filling it with homey touches that made it all their own.

The manor was beautiful, and she had come to like to living there. She got along well with the household staff, as well as the foreman, a large and wide African man with a wide smile and hearty laugh. Everyone simply called him ‘Big John’. There wasn’t a thing Big John didn’t know about sugar cane, and within the first month of hiring him, he’d helped Adrian double the plantation’s productivity and potential profit. She was proud of what her husband had built, what he’d managed to salvage from the mess his brother had made.

Now that the worst was over, their lives had settled into a routine, one that consisted of them sneaking away from the manor whenever they could for nights alone in their secret cabin. It had not been easy at first; awakening to realize that over a week had passed with her oblivious to the world around her. It was even more jarring to realize that it was over; their lives and well beings were in danger no more.

Tatiana raised her arms toward the sky and closed her eyes, smiling as the wind whipped through her loose hair and tugged at the edges of her light clothing. She found she much preferred the comfortable dress of the natives. The colorful, floral-printed jupe skirts that tied at the waist and white ruffled blouses kept her much cooler and she had long since abandoned petticoats and chemises in favor of the garments she wore now. She slipped off her sandals and reveled in the feel of the cool earth between her toes, the blades of grass tickling her feet.

In the satchel tethered to the horse she’d left grazing nearby was a letter from Esmeralda, who was frantic with worry over her ordeal and preparing for a voyage to Martinique to see for herself that Tatiana was all right. She would be glad to see her cousin, but also planned to pen a response reassuring Esmeralda that everything was just fine.

Adrian hadn’t told them about the lost child, and neither would she. No one else needed to know, and there would be another chance, another child. Adrian tried fervently each night to impregnate her again and the physician had reassured her that no damage seemed to have been done. She could carry a child again free from worry.

She ran her hand across her bare mid-drift and felt a twinge of sadness for the life that never truly was. Her heart was heavy with sorrow at times and some nights, she cried against Adrian’s shoulder as he held her in the night. There would always be a tiny fissure in her heart for the child that was never born. But with endings came new beginnings and Tatiana knew that someday, the void would be filled by another child, one that would grow and live and survive to make her days even brighter than they were now.

As she swayed in the wind, thinking of the days ahead and the fullness of a life she’d almost lost, she could feel nothing but happiness. As a pair of strong arms came around her from behind and she sank into Adrian’s warm embrace, she decided there was also room for love.

“Beautiful Gypsy maiden, who do you dance for alone on the mountain top?” his voice whispered in her ear.

Tatiana smiled and turned in his embrace. “I am awaiting a lover to come and rescue me from a life of loneliness,” she murmured. “Are you the one? Are you him?”

“I am a simple man,” he said with a smile. “All that I can offer you is this cabin, here on the mountain. That and the love of my heart.”

Tatiana blushed, charmed that he remembered her story of the mountain man and his Gypsy. She leaned into him, her hands stroking at the tendrils of hair resting against the nape of his neck.

“I will accept them on one condition,” she said teasingly.

“You may have anything your heart desires,” he answered.

“My freedom,” she declared, raising her arms toward the sky and throwing her head back in wild abandon with a laugh. “I wish to always be free. As the wild rose blooms along the valley, I wish to dance, sing, laugh, and live freely in happiness. Promise me that I might live this sort of life, and my heart is yours for eternity.”

With a chuckle, Adrian scooped her into his arms and tramped toward the cabin, his lips locked with hers as the sun began its slow descent over the horizon.

“It will be as you wish,” he whispered, claiming her lips once again.

As Tatiana clung to him, tasting the lips she’d come to crave more than any other flavor that existed in the world, she knew that her wish had already been granted.

For the first time in her life, she truly felt free.

Epilogue

Cardenas

Five years later …

Desmond Brandon trotted eagerly up the front steps of his home, the sprawling estate he shared with his wife and daughter. Five years of blissful happiness had passed him by in a blur and he could hardly believe things had turned out as well as they did.

At first, when his and Abigail’s families learned that she was with child, they were furious. Abigail’s father even threatened to kill him, so great was his ire. Damien had set things to rights as Desmond had known he would, and soon Abigail was his bride.

Their ceremony was small and simple, their engagement short because of the impending birth. While Desmond had been nervous about fatherhood, he had grown into the role and lived in it comfortably, delighting in the joy that came with raising a daughter. Lily was beautiful, so much like her mother that Desmond could not help but love her as much as he did his lady.

Now, as he crossed the threshold of his home after a long absence, he wanted nothing more than to settle back into his comfortable routine. Desmond smiled as Thomas, the butler, came trotting into the main hall. The man looked positively stunned to see him.

“My lord,” he stammered, his eyes darting about from side to side. “We were not expecting you for another three days.”

“Good to see you too, Thomas,” Desmond remarked with a laugh as he removed his coat and allowed the servant to take it. “My business was concluded with a minimum of fuss, allowing me to return home sooner. If you are not glad to see me, I am certain my family will be. Where is Lily?”

Thomas cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Something had his feather’s ruffled, but Desmond couldn’t be bothered to figure out what. His mind was focused on getting Abigail in his arms.

“Mrs. Covington took her for a walk to the park.”

Desmond nodded and smiled as he rushed toward the stairs leading up to the second floor. All the better, he decided. He and his Abigail could spend the afternoon alone and he would play with Lily later.

“I’ll be in my chambers, Thomas. Inform the staff not to disturb us.”

“My lord,” Thomas called out, his voice strained as he followed Desmond up the stairs. “Wouldn’t you like to have a light meal after your journey? Surely you wish to unwind with a drink first?”

Desmond turned on his heels, his eyes narrowed as he took in the butler’s ghostly pallor. The man looked positively ill. Desmond took another step toward the wing he shared with Abigail. The man trembled. Desmond frowned.

“What the devil is it, Thomas?”

“My lord, you really should—”

Desmond held up his hand, cocking his head to the side as noises wafted toward him from down the hall. Desmond’s blood curdled as he realized that Thomas had been trying to keep him from entering his chambers. He fixed a dark stare on the butler as sound of a bed rocking against a wall resounded in his ears. A man’s voice could be heard mingling with the soft moans of a woman being pleasured.

“Thomas,” Desmond growled, his voice low and venomous, “is there another man in my house? In there, with my wife?”

Thomas swallowed noisily and backed away from him. “My lord, forgive me, there was nothing I could do. This mistress, she swore us all to secrecy. She didn’t think you would be home this early.”

“Get out of my sight,” Desmond hissed, his large hands curling into fists as she turned his back on the man who had stood by and watched as he was played for a fool by his own wife. “I will deal with you later.” His footsteps were silent as he walked to the end of the hall, where he paused before the door leading into his wife’s chambers.

He choked back vomit as he heard her, panting and moaning like a whore as the bed rocked rapidly against the wall. Whoever was in there was showing her a damn good time.

This can’t be, he thought, his heart breaking with every second that he stood there, listening to the sounds of his wife making love with another man. Surely, there was some mistake. Perhaps a maid and a footman thought to have a bit of fun by courting danger and conducting an affair in their mistress’ bedchamber.

Even as he thought it, Desmond knew he was being ridiculous. There could be no other reason, though he wished it wasn’t so. This was Abby, his Abigail, his loving wife. She’d spoken vows to him, bore his child, told him she loved him every day they had been married. Could it have all been a lie?

Desmond backed away from the door, his hands trembling as he shoved them into his pockets. No, he couldn’t face the truth, could not face what was happening just on the other side of that door. He retreated, walking swiftly back down the hall.

At the top of the stairs, he paused, the trembling increasing until he was shaking from head to toe.

He had to face it, he had to see for himself that his Abby truly was an adulterer, no better than the other women of the court who took lovers behind their husband’s backs. Desmond turned, his eyes burning like hot coals beneath furrowed brows as he steeled himself for what was to come. He stormed back to the door, his shoulders square, his mind made up.

He reached out with a steady hand and opened the door.

Dear Reader,

As always, I thank you for reading and for following my characters and I on our journey from Cardenas and Barony, to foreign lands and back again. I am both happy and sad to say that as of the end of this year, the Kings of Cardenas series will be coming to a close. With only two installments left, I feel that I am finally ready to say farewell to these characters. I look forward to releasing a short novella entitled ‘The Mistress’, starring our Damien’s ex-mistress, Davina Russell. Get ready to see the catty courtesan as you never have before. And of course, the series could not be complete without delving into Desmond’s future. ‘The Gypsy’ will be Kings of Cardenas’ final installment. I look forward to ending this series on as high a note as I began it.

Happy Reading,

Elise

About The Author

Elise Marion is a lover books and has a special place in her heart for sweet and sensual romance. Writing about love across all walks of life is her passion, as is reaching people through the written word. The Army wife and stay-at-home mother of two spends most of her time taking care of her children. Her second job includes writing stories about characters that people can fall in love with. When the Texas native isn’t caring for her family or writing, you can usually find her with her nose in a book, singing loudly, or cooking up something new in the kitchen.

More by Elise Marion

Fallen (Angels Among Us Book #1)

Now available

Tempted (Angels Among Us Book #2)

Now Available

Redemption (Angels Among Us Book #3)

Now Available

The Third Son (Kings of Cardenas Book #1)

Now available

The Second Son (Kings of Cardenas Book #2)

Now available

The Lady Knights of Barony (Kings of Cardenas Book #3)

Now Available

The Secret Life of Avery O’Dea

Now Available

Cake

Now Available

The Valentine’s Masquerade

Now Available

Coming Soon

The Mistress (Kings of Cardenas #3.5)

2013

The Gypsy (Kings of Cardenas #4)

2013

The Groom

2013