Chapter 29
THE LADY GREY
TROUBLE
Arinna was flirting with trouble, but she couldn’t help it. Even without everything Jared had told her, there was still Derrick’s father. If what Renault had told the Guard was even half correct, every minute she spent with Derrick in public pushed his father one step closer to ordering her death. If David Eldridge knew about the times she spent with his son, not in public, he’d have come to Rhiol to kill her himself. Not that he’d succeed, but the thought of him trying was alluring.
“When you smile like that, I worry about what you are thinking,” Derrick said, bending his head to whisper into her ear. His breath on her cheek made her heart flip like a schoolgirl crush.
“You dressed in a T-shirt and shorts sent sprawling with a move you didn’t see coming,” she replied sweetly. “You haven’t beaten me in the last two rounds.”
Derrick’s straight face cracked though only a chuckle or two escaped. He pulled himself to seriousness as Lord Bemby glanced their way, the look judgmental. The music recital of some skilled, and several not, young men and woman of means soared around them. Arinna would have been bored to death if not for Derrick next to her.
“That is ... slanderous,” he hissed to her.
“I know,” she whispered back. “Captain Vries owes me quite a lot. He’s been betting against me.”
Derrick had to cough that time. He turned dancing dark blue eyes on her. “Allow me to refill your drink, my lady,” he said, taking her glass.
“The girl is quite gifted, don’t you think?” Lady Rosingale asked Arinna from where she sat on her left.
“Yes, lovely,” Arinna agreed. This one was lovely actually, with a smooth voice that threaded along the melody she played on a harp.
Isabella and Byran had decided not to attend the afternoon display of music and talented children of the elite living amid northern England. Their children were too restless to sit all afternoon, and Isabella felt they’d spent enough time away from Cerilla and Santi of late. So they were off riding and picnicking on Kesmere’s grounds. Arinna missed the buffer Byran and Isabella provided as much as their company. But she had to admit she enjoyed spending time with Derrick without Byran’s watchful eye, as much as she shouldn’t. Nor was his eye the only one watchful.
Derrick returned just as she seriously pondered her choice of spending the day with him. Whispers and sidelong glances followed her every move. Gerschtein’s careful plot trailed her everywhere. It reminded her of years before when she’d pretended an affair with Byran. But that had been to gain information. Now she felt how tenuous her standing was. She was not Guard, and the war that had brought her honor was thought over. Yet here she sat laughing with one who threatened to muddle her image even more. Gerschtein’s comment to Jared pricked at her mind: what is the best way to remove a war hero? Her name was linked with scandals more than war service these days.
Derrick handed Arinna a glass of the new summer wine and settled next to her as the singer finished. He waited until the applause faded, and people shuffled as the next musicians, a quartet of stringed instruments, arranged themselves before turning to her.
“I leave you for a minute, and now you look serious.”
“It was the music. She was very somber even if lovely,” Arinna replied.
“I didn’t think you were paying that close attention.”
“Well you left,” she pointed out. “Will they think it rude if we walk for a bit?”
Derrick answered by offering his arm. Cello music followed them out the door to a warm August afternoon. Arinna breathed in the thick smell of roses mixed with too many flowers to name. There were times with music and laughter around her like this that she could have believed the war was over. She certainly wished it so.
“I don’t think it was her singing that dampened your mood,” Derrick said, giving her space as she leaned against an ornamental rail overlooking the floral garden.
Arinna paused. The breezy comment making light of her thoughts died between mind and lips. “There are too many worries in my head, I’m sorry,” she said earnestly.
“Whatever Renault le Marc told you, and you don’t want to tell me?” he asked.
Arinna paused over the rim of her wineglass. “That is some of it, yes. It certainly doesn’t help.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said after a moment. Arinna glanced at him, startled. “I think it is the music as much as the worries. It bothers you to be sitting here, pretending not to be anxious about something Captain Vries or one of your lieutenants is working on while no one here would know their peace is at risk.”
A couple passing kept Arinna from answering, not that she was quite capable of framing one. She was simply pleased to be able to regain composure that slipped at his perceptive words. “You’ve left me unable to answer twice in the last week,” she said when they were alone again. “I really don’t know what to make of you.”
“Well, I can offer a solution for that too. How about a rematch tomorrow evening? I apparently need to earn Captain Vries back some of his pay.”
“Why tomorrow evening?” she asked, taking the bait he offered. She didn’t want to talk about the rest, especially in public.
“I’m not the only friend Isabella or Byran keeps. They were invited down country, far enough down they’ll be away overnight. So I am oddly free of guests or commitments tomorrow afternoon to evening. I thought you might like to take out some frustrations ... and I believe you owe me a drink.”
“Despite the uncouth arrangement of inviting yourself to my manor to be knocked semi-conscious, I look forward to it. I’ll try not to bruise you.”
The remainder of the afternoon passed in a similar companionable mood. Enough so Arinna looked forward to seeing Derrick the following day, and not simply for the practice session. The match the following afternoon was the first time fighting Derrick that she had a difficult time focusing on defense and offense. Instead, she felt his presence when he stepped close, noticed his breath brush across her skin. It was as if knowing she shouldn’t enjoy spending time with him made her that much more aware of how pleasurable it was. Which made her fight the distractions all the harder. But still, the lack of focus lost her the first two matches.
The lack of later obligations or anyone waiting slowed the bouts as well. Derrick strategized his moves, hanging back when she baited him with false openings. By the time Arinna had salvaged her honor and beaten Derrick twice, they were both breathless. A glance at the time showed they’d been testing each other across the exercise mat in Rhiol’s basement for the better part of two hours.
“Do we go one more to determine who wins this evening?” Arinna asked, leaning against the nearest wall as Derrick remained sitting. She’d barely managed to trip him, catching him in an overreach by luck more than design. Even then, she guessed he could have recovered from it if it were a real battle. His sword lay barely a foot away.
“I think I’d rather determine that through a drinking game. Otherwise, I’ll be too tired to sit in a saddle to return home.”
“Not worried about being too drunk at least. I’ll lend you a carriage, my lord earl, not to worry.”
He snorted. “I thought we didn’t hold titles down here.”
Arinna waved a hand, not wanting to admit she was pleased to not need to be worried about accidentally nicking her fighting partner. The practice blades they used didn’t have an edge, but they could cause damage. Defeating each other without inflicting more than a bruise made each match a greater challenge and that much more mentally exhausting.
“Let’s call all titles off for the entire evening,” she replied, offering Derrick her hand to pull him to his feet. “And since we are moving on to drinking games, please let me formally offer you the meager and very militarized hospitality Rhiol has to offer.”
“Sounds lovely. How could I refuse? I’m hoping that means you will allow me a shower. And speaking of meager, I brought several b
ottles from Kesmere’s cellar, which I assure you is much better stocked in vintages than Rhiol’s.”
“I worry about things other than fermentation rates,” she pointed out as they exited through the false door leading into Rhiol’s tiny, and sparsely filled, wine cellar.
“I’d have that no other way,” Derrick said, stepping closer to pull the door closed behind him. His shirt brushed her arm, sending a wave of heat through her. Apparently, she’d have to continue to be careful of a few things the remainder of the evening.
“Choose any room upstairs. They are functional and should have spare Guard shirts and such too.” She read the surprise and acceptance of what she’d said in the glance he sent her way. “Yes,” she confirmed for him. “We keep Rhiol ready just in case.”
“All this time, I thought you’d come here just to ruffle my father’s feathers.”
“Actually, it was your feathers, and that was just a side benefit,” she said as he headed up the stairs. He shook his head but didn’t respond in return.
Arinna hurried through her shower, despite needing the physical break from her visitor to clear her head. Derrick was the first actual guest she’d had at Rhiol, and really the first since the war had swept her into a role of tactician and then military commander. Despite her teasing of Rhiol’s meager offerings, she wanted to at least try to not fail horribly at being a host.
When Derrick rejoined her in the kitchen with hair still damp and a borrowed shirt managing to do little to hide his physique, she was simmering soup and had a summer salad set on the counter.
“I know you do not take care of this place yourself,” he said bringing over the two bottles he’d retrieved from his saddlebags.
“No, and I didn’t actually make any of this. I’m just reheating,” she said with a grin. “Christophe and Tomas take care of the building and day-to-day management. Both are retired Guard. Tomas’ wife sends over food though Christophe is a great cook. This is his roasted eggplant soup along with the bread in the oven.”
“This huge estate and you are basically here alone?”
“When I’m here, which isn’t as often as I pretend to be, as you’ve pointed out. And when I am, I’m usually so busy I don’t notice. Now you see why I never thought of hosting a party. I can’t imagine how I’d manage it,” she said as she ladled out the soup. “I do hope you don’t mind skipping the formal dining room? We can eat here or my study, which I do actually use.”
“The study,” Derrick replied, helping to set everything on a nearby tray. “And my offer stands. Byran, Isabella, and I will help. A party before the fall session would work.”
Arinna led the way into the dim depths of Rhiol. Her study was an office mated to a war room. Reports, maps of battles, her comm unit, and a few computers fought for space with books on military battles and strategy, handwritten notes, and a handful of mementos that had survived the upheaval of her life from the USA and the war. Only one picture graced the wall, a dusty old photo that Arinna loved very much.
Derrick paused at the threshold, gaze sweeping the casual display of technology and information on war. “We should hide this room if you do have a party,” he said as he finally entered and gingerly placed the tray next to a rolled map.
Arinna grinned at his deadpanned statement. She could imagine Jared saying it or chiming in with new ideas. Derrick was a good fighter, clever, and would have fit in well with the upper ranks of the Guard. Damn his father for the myriad of problems the man caused.
“And I see this is where you hide your good wine. At least now I know,” he said, pulling a bottle from the built-in rack above her desk.
“What do you expect? It isn’t like I have someone to fetch me a bottle if I’m working and in need of a glass,” Arinna teased back. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll trade you bottle for bottle lest we too severely deplete Kesmere’s renowned stock.”
Derrick settled into the office like an old friend come to visit, moving what needed to be placed out of the way without questioning what the map or report held. Only in the books did he show interest, flipping one open after reading the obscure battle the title referenced.
“From West Point?” he asked.
“I went to school there, before serving in the army,” she replied.
That led to swapping stories on training and pre-war service through dinner. Comfortable in her chair with the open window behind letting in a cool evening breeze, Arinna realized she’d lost track of time, who she was talking to, and perhaps even what year it was as they opened what she hoped was only the second bottle of wine.
“I think,” Derrick began, handing her a refilled glass as he sat in the chair across from her. “That it appears you spend more time sleeping on the couch in the corner than you do in your bed.” He nodded to the pillow and folded blanket resting on one end of the sofa.
“Are you certain I have a bedroom in Rhiol?”
“I did not spend enough time snooping upstairs to be able to answer that question,” Derrick replied, laughing.
“I doubt you snooped at all,” Arinna replied, meaning it. None of her reasons to distrust Derrick had ever been proven true. “But yes, I do tend to sleep close to my work I suppose. Especially when there are problems.”
Derrick frowned at that. “I think that is the one question I would want to know the answer to; if you granted me one that is. I’d like to know why if there is fighting still with the FLF, why do we hear none of it?”
Arinna regarded her guest, judging him not by his family connections but by what he knew. “The answer to that lies in why does MOTHER still exist and yet no one knows of it.”
“It’s one great conspiracy then? And you are part of it.” He said the last part with disappointment.
“No, lots of separate ones, I think. I agreed stupidly to stay quiet on the war beyond Europe, but MOTHER was supposed to have divested themselves of control. They promised a real parliament. Jared and I thought, hoped, the war would have ended by now. I ignored MOTHER the last few years to continue to fight the FLF. But residing here in Rhiol I’ve seen ... well, that I was wrong. We need to know what is beyond our borders. The people need to know what is going on here and in the world, and worse than that, I may have slit the throat of the Guard.”
Derrick stared at her. She swallowed down that she should not have confessed a syllable of what she had just said to him as he asked, “How? What has happened to the Guard?”
“If we find the FLF, we’d better hope they want a truce rather than to fight us. Because I don’t think we have the soldiers left to stage another war.”
Derrick hesitated the space of a blink. “You saved us after Kiev with less than is in the Defensive Guard now. I think you underestimate yourself and our chances.”
She choked on her mouthful of wine, sputtering enough that Derrick took her glass as he moved to sit next to her. Laughing as much as coughing, she finally gasped, “That is most likely the last thing I ever expected to hear from you.”
Looking up into his dark blue eyes only a foot away as he laughed as well was also not the position she expected to be in either or to like. The realization of it jolted through her.
“And why is that? Better yet, what was that look for?” He remained perched on the arm of her chair, one hand resting lightly on her back in his attempt to keep her breathing. Now her breath came too quickly from his touch. She knew she should move away.
Yet when she spoke, it was the truth. “I’m thinking of all the reasons I should not trust you and despite all of them, I’m very happy you are here.”
“Good,” Derrick said before leaning forward and kissing her.
The surprise of it kept Arinna from reacting. When she did, it was not what she would have anticipated either. She kissed him back. There would be time to be disappointed in herself later, as well as curse herself for how easily she gave real fuel to the false fires Gerschtein had set. But as her hand found the warmth of Derrick’s skin under his shirt, she stopped t
hinking and fell into the heat of his lips and tongue against hers.
If Derrick’s kiss held fire, when his hand traced the curve of her waist she trembled with the desire he ignited. If she didn’t have the couch, she would have aimed for the floor. Instead, they tumbled together, pulling at clothing that wouldn’t come off quickly enough. Her senses narrowed to the taste of him, the gasp of his breath, the strength of his arms and chest as he moved with her, and the passionate pleasure of it all.
Lying next to him on the couch afterwards, while recovering much like they did from a sword bout, his finger traced patterns along her arm in a movement that was both tender and exploring. “I’m starting to like your couch,” he said, lips brushing her neck.
“I do actually have a bed.”
His teasing smile grew to one more mischievous, which led to a kiss that threatened to not make her care if they did find the bedroom. But they did, eventually.
A faint noise woke her to predawn blueness. Derrick pulled on clothes nearby, quietly as possible.
“Sneaking out?” she asked, trying to decide if that were actually a good thing. What she was sure of was needing time alone to figure that out and how to fix it if it was.
“Unfortunately, I have a mid-morning engagement. I need to get home to shower, maybe sleep, and find fitting clothes,” he said, sitting on the bed. He leaned over and kissed her, chuckling when it built in intensity, and they both paused before it grew farther. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Go,” she said with a laugh. “Before it gets brighter, and someone sees you sneaking back to Kesmere.”
Arinna stayed in bed until she heard Derrick’s horse trot down the gravel road, heading toward the wood. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and thinking far more clearly than she wanted to about the night before. Gerschtein and her damned plot, David Eldridge, Byran, secrets kept guarded in Rhiol, all clearly pointed to last night as an act of foolishness. Even if it was one she didn’t regret.
After the War: Military Dystopian Thriller (Friends of my Enemy Book 2) Page 23