Chapter 3
BARON VASQUEZ
INTRODUCTIONS
A woman’s laugh tore Byran from his thoughts. It wasn’t Arinna’s, though. The feel of her in his arms still tingled on his skin. Arinna was here, granting Byran the opportunity to warn her that had driven him from his home in Spain. But the shock of seeing her again when he hadn’t expected it had scattered his thoughts as if they were rain in the storm. Feelings he thought dormant beyond resurrection surfaced.
There wasn’t time to collect himself. Derrick’s guests were there, and a plan that had seemed so simple until he’d been confronted with the reality of seeing Arinna again threatened to toss him off balance. Byran left the room before his tangled thoughts dragged him under.
In the entrance hall, Derrick stood between two lovely young women. “My good friend, Baron Vasquez is here as well,” Derrick said with a nod toward Byran.
A brunette with high cheekbones set under golden eyes turned to him. Her face was sweet enough that Byran barely needed to sweep down the curves of her burgundy dress, only a shade lighter than her lips, to appreciate her youthful beauty. The nearly antique style of her dress with a bit of lace along the oval neckline and half sleeves suited the young woman’s classic beauty.
“Byran, this is Dame Corianne Heylor and her cousin, Tatiana Grekov.”
It was only at Derrick’s introduction that Corianne turned away from him, and slowly at that. Byran hid amusement with a bow that let his gaze skim over Corianne’s teal silk dress whose cut hinted at the daring of youth, especially unattached and ambitious youth. Thin shoulder straps plunged low to reveal her cleavage, and the fabric of the skirt clung to her hips and thighs. Her face was attractive with a slight chubbiness to her cheeks where they were framed by blonde wisps of hair. Byran judged her as not quite out of her teenage years and the younger of the two women.
Derrick’s guests would have been a wonderful diversion on almost any other occasion. But with the memory of Arinna in his arms from an hour before and head too full of thoughts, they barely caught his attention.
The next arrivals offered no interest whatsoever. Lord and Lady Bemby were old enough that Byran wondered if Derrick’s father would have even found them tolerable. Derrick greeted them like old friends, though, which they might have been. Derrick’s move four years before to the estate he’d inherited from his late uncle had surprised Byran. Coming on the heel of Byran discovering Derrick’s engagement to Danielle le Marc, Byran had been at a loss to understand the sudden transformation in his childhood friend. Despite frequent visits and Byran strong-arming Derrick to remain a senator in the combined parliament that oversaw Europe, a part of Derrick remained altered with no explanation. But Byran kept trying, hoping to break through to him.
They’d barely assembled in the front salon when Derrick announced with a nod toward the doorway, “And I do have one other guest this evening.”
Wearing a silver-grey dress that shimmered in the light, it was impossible to tell Arinna had arrived looking like a stable boy who had been thrown in the muck less than an hour before. Her short hair, more red than deep brown now that it was dry, framed her pixyish features. Byran had a difficult time imaging her as the leader of the Grey Guard and a heroine of the war. He remembered her instead as he first saw her: a new US embassy staffer in Madrid lost in her role and switch from military life.
“May I present the Lady Grey.”
Derrick’s aversion to Arinna was well-known. Corianne winced. Byran coughed a smirk into his wine glass. In the political world Derrick and Byran lived, new alliances were forged overnight. In the small county Derrick and Arinna resided, it had only been a matter of time before the Earl of Kesmere and the Lady Grey would have to learn to live as neighbors since her arrival half a year ago. Corianne’s naiveté and honest confusion were charming though she wouldn’t fair well in the sphere she was hoping to achieve if her hand on Derrick’s arm was any indication.
“I say, my dear, it is good to see you,” old Lord Bemby said as he offered his hand. Arinna clasped his worn fingers, leaning forward so that he could kiss her cheek like an affectionate father. “Good addition, my lord earl. Good addition,” he said as he eased sideways, allowing his wife to take his place in greeting Arinna.
As host, Derrick walked the two cousins across the room. “May I introduce Dame Corianne Heylor and her cousin Tatiana Grekov.”
“Dame?” Arinna asked. “Either you were my youngest soldier or your mother or father fought in the Guard.”
Corianne blushed. “My father. He died just before the war ended. I was knighted in his stead,” she answered, a trace of haughtiness in her tone as if the inherited title demarcated more than service recognized.
“Tatiana, your family is from old Russia then?”
“My brother and I came to stay with my cousins during the war. We still have family back there,” Tatiana answered without her cousin’s aloofness. “Has there been any contact with old Russia?”
“No,” Arinna answered, voice kind to soften the reply. “The wasteland outside of Europe’s borders makes contact with Asia difficult. Perhaps as power and transportation are restored.”
Tatiana turned away, ignoring the miffed glare of her cousin. There was only one other person to introduce to Arinna. Byran swallowed nerves he didn’t realize had risen and crossed the room.
“And, of course, Baron Vasquez, whom you know,” Derrick finished.
Byran bowed low, caught in the old ache that filled him. He kissed Arinna’s proffered hand lightly, torn between the warmth of her skin and the white line of a faint scar across her knuckles.
“As always, it is good to see you again,” she said with a hint of laughter.
He couldn’t find his voice for fear he’d ask her why she’d left without a word beyond a scribbled note over six years before. Byran backed off, telling himself it was not why he had come. Well, not the motive behind it. But it had been old feelings, older than his marriage, which had spurred him.
Surprisingly it was the formalities of dinner that gave Byran the chance to steady himself. Derrick had placed Arinna at his right as only fitting for her status as the recognized leader of the Grey Guard, even if, in truth, she held no military rank. It meant she was opposite Byran, but before he found himself asking the wrong question, the Bembys claimed Arinna’s attention with topics of the local countryside that were far from Byran’s interest. Which left him the two young women to entertain, something, Byran realized as his mind settled, had been Derrick’s original intent before Arinna disrupted the table’s balance. Now the Bembys spoke to Arinna instead of Derrick. Plus, Corianne spent every moment with her attention riveted on Derrick. The amusement of that broke through the last of the thicket of memories in Byran’s mind.
As far as Byran was concerned, Derrick held the blame on Corianne’s obvious interest. Derrick’s engagement was distant at best while Corianne was in the same county. Byran offered no sympathy or help requested in the occasional pointed glances Derrick tossed his way. Though it was a shame really that she was only interested in Derrick, or at least the connections he could provide her. Corianne made an attractive package and Byran hazarded that with the right offer she would be easy to win over. And he’d only been wrong once in his assessment of a woman. On that thought, his gaze drifted to Arinna.
It wasn’t the years that had changed her though age had barely touched her features. It was Kiev and the war. Without the glaze of memories, Byran could see she wasn’t the young embassy staffer anymore. She was as polite and civil as Derrick, offering a public face without flaw. He wondered the last occasion she’d really laughed, or loved. Byran shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
And then the improbability settled on him as if he’d woken from a dream. Even the embassy staffer that Arinna had been would not have gotten caught unprepared in a storm. As the leader of the Guard ... he didn’t believe it. The war might be over, but she wouldn’t have gotten so complacent. Trim and suave n
ow despite her mud-splattered arrival, she didn’t look to have lost her edge. The quiet rumor that had sent him across a continent buzzed in his head. He’d come to warn her. What if he didn’t need to?
Derrick addressed a comment from Arinna, including the Bembys with an air of animated interest. It was all show. Had to be. So much of the person Derrick pretended to did not align with the person who had been Byran’s childhood friend, reckless with a knack for surviving close calls. And that was the second worry. That Derrick would invite Arinna to dinner was just as unlikely as Arinna being caught in the rain-swept night. As far as Byran could tell, Derrick really did hate her. The thought soured his dinner enough, he put down his fork.
With or without his involvement, the dinner wore on in tiring precision. It was late evening, and after an interlude in the music room where Corianne displayed prowess on the piano when, finally, the Bembys excused themselves. In the bustle of their departure, propriety required Corianne and Tatiana to offer gratitude for the invitation and leave as well, Corianne eyeing the obviously staying Arinna with hurt curiosity.
As the door clicked shut, Arinna paused in the entranceway as if unsure what to do next. “I shall turn in as well,” she said into the awkward silence. “It has been a long day though a very pleasant evening. Thank you again for your kindness, Lord Earl.” Arinna hesitated, gaze coming to rest on Byran. “Good night,” she said simply to him, seeming at a loss for other words.
Derrick half bowed an acknowledgment as if she were any worthy houseguest. Byran watched her go, the doubts and questions mixing with old feelings that were not as forgotten as he’d thought. Byran paced to the stairs wanting to talk to her, then turned and headed to the dining room, suddenly wanting his wine as he feared her answers. He stopped in between, running his fingers through his hair.
Derrick watched him without a word or change to his stone-faced expression. Which fueled Byran’s uncertainty. He cared little what Derrick would think if he followed Arinna to her chamber to speak to her before she slept. Derrick had watched him follow enough women. But why Derrick had invited her ate at him. Potential plots and subplots clouded Byran’s mind until he shoved it all aside. He didn’t believe the worst of what he imagined of either of his friends, no matter their hidden secrets. Which left him simply not knowing what was going on and too tired to find out.
“There is nothing for it then. I’m going to turn in myself,” Byran said.
He felt Derrick’s eye on him as he walked up the stairs and turned in the opposite direction Arinna had taken, heading toward his long granted chambers in Kesmere.
“Sleep well, my friend.”
Derrick’s words echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the foyer, the emphasis falling on sleep. Byran lifted a hand in a brief wave of acknowledgement, not pausing his stride. He fell asleep dreaming of Arinna in his arms, and not entirely certain why he’d not gone to her room.
He woke knowing Arinna meant to leave again. As she had so many years before when the Grey Guard fell. It was his only thought, and he fought with his pants and shirt while heading out of his bedchamber door, uncaring about decorum or discretion. His wild race down the stairs halted abruptly when he saw movement in the front salon.
Arinna sat curled on a settee under a series of windows. Byran’s heart skipped a beat. The doubts of the night before disappeared. No matter he didn’t know her motivations, she wouldn’t have stayed if she’d something to hide.
For a moment, they stared at the other. Then Arinna shifted her feet to make room for Byran next to her. For all of his rush, Byran walked across the room to join her feeling as if time were infinite. He took her hand as he sat down.
“You stayed,” he said, voice roughened by more than morning disuse.
“I could not do that to you, not again,” Arinna replied. She looked away, unfocused on the room with its fine wooden furniture and glass-fronted cabinets. “I could not stay back then all those years ago.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I could not risk your marriage at the loss of mine.” A quiver laced through the solid confidence of her words.
Byran paused, caught in her eyes as well as a mix of memories and possibilities cast aside. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, her hair brushing his face.
“Thank you.”
Arinna reclaimed her hand to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. Her gaze slipped to the sunlit window and budding trees as she composed herself. It took Byran a second to realize the moment he had sought to warn her was now.
“I actually came to Kesmere to seek you out,” he said.
“Really, why? That at least explains the earl’s invitation.”
Byran glanced sidelong to the door, remembering his haste down the stairs. He did not need Derrick a part of this conversation. But the doorway was empty and the house quiet. When he looked back at Arinna, her face was more serious.
“No, he knows nothing of this. I’m as surprised as you. But it saved me the trouble of having to find an excuse to see you alone. Arinna, I need to warn you.”
“Warn me about what, Byran?”
Her tone was expressionless. A part of him knew he spoke to the Lady Grey, but the other, and unexpectedly larger, part of him knew her only as someone he once loved, perhaps still did. His voice and feelings were torn between seriousness and deep concern.
“I have a connection in parliament whose son works for the Secretary of Finance. He said he’d seen papers in the minister’s office. There were files with programs and codes cross-referenced to spending on weapons and soldiers for the Grey Guard. It looked like the Secretary was investigating the Guard and that you were funneling money from other sources. He said it added up to nearly the same amount from when we were at war.” Arinna’s expression didn’t flicker as Byran paused. “Don’t you see? They are worried you are planning something. With the army and funding, you could carry out a coup.”
Arinna breathed a quiet laugh as she relaxed, leaning back against the arm of the settee. “This friend of yours doesn’t know of our connection?”
Byran shook his head. “No, he came to me because they are looking for support to have you arrested. Arinna, you are in danger.”
She gently touched his cheek, warmth flooding her eyes. “You are worried, I can tell. But you needn’t be. Truly,” she said with a half laugh when his expression didn’t alter. “Byran, do you think I want to take over parliament?” Arinna’s tone was full of fond exasperation. He believed her but wondered that there was no explanation. “I swear, I do not. The last thing I want would be to have those decisions on my head.” There was distaste in her tone.
“So you aren’t siphoning funds to build up the military? The Secretary of Finance isn’t investigating you?”
“No,” she answered, gaze never wavering from his. “I take no more than parliament allocates for us, and I spoke to Secretary Gerschtein last week. We’ve been working on sorting out the cost of the war. That might be what your friend saw. We have codes relating to equipment and the battles where it was lost. But I will make sure the misunderstanding is cleared up before it comes to more.”
Byran couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relieved. The punch of the emotions that raced through him evaporated thought and left him tingling. He didn’t doubt her or how he felt about her. Even if for the moment he was content to simply be sitting next to her.
They were on the settee, talking quietly about the intervening years when Derrick walked into the room an hour later. He was dressed already for the day: fine wool pants, high riding boots, and a coat with split tails under which was a dress shirt and scarf. Byran’s shirt was still untucked, he wore slippers, and he was happy he’d managed that much. Of the three, Byran was the least prepared to greet the day. Arinna was dressed casually in what she’d arrived in the day before: grey slacks and a T-shirt with dark grey riding boots.
Derrick poured himself a cup of tea in the sudden silence of the room his entrance had created, gaze avoiding
both Byran and Arinna. He stared instead out the window at the rolling pastures surrounding Kesmere. It was the first time since the night before that Derrick appeared uncomfortable with the reality of his friendship with Arinna. Which made Byran want to hug his friend for finally displaying real emotion.
“I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night,” Arinna said into the morning stillness of the room. “I will not trouble you any longer this morning.”
Derrick hesitated before turning to them fully. He answered, “Absolutely not. You shall stay for breakfast, and then Byran and I will ride with you home. It isn’t every day someone can say they came to the aid of the Lady Grey.” A trace of humor moderated Derrick’s strict words, taking the edge from the required civilities.
“Well, as I am horseless and you are my host, I certainly cannot refuse,” Arinna said in return.
About the Author
Autumn (also known as Weifarer) is a travel and fiction writer currently based in Maine where she lives in a small cottage lost in the woods, which she built with her husband and with the supervision (and approval) of two Cairn terriers.
With a Bachelor of Arts degree from Bucknell University in Studio Arts and English, Autumn once considered a career in illustration. However, an ecology course at Virginia Tech led to a Master of Science degree in Ecology and Environmental Sciences from the University of Maine in Orono. After graduation with her M.S., Autumn has worked for the USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service. This was a great job that not only let her help the environment and protect local agriculture, but also gave her a paycheck big enough to support her writing habit until finally … at long last she is now a full time writer and on-line educator!
You can learn more about Autumn’s books and writing courses online at her website www.AutumnWriting.com including her latest work-in-progress. If you want to get an automatic email when Autumn’s next book is released, sign up here. Your email address will never be shard and you can unsubscribe at any time.
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Stories from the War: Military Dystopian Thriller Page 15