Blood Marriage

by Regina Richards

  "Hey!" The doctor started backing toward the door. The priest took another step toward Elizabeth and then several rapid steps back, fleeing an onslaught of more bread, hard cheese and an overripe pear.

  "Get out!" Elizabeth lobbed a cherry tart. It flew through the open doorway and out into the hall, thumping against a stone wall and leaving a line of thick red ooze as it slid to the floor. Bergen followed the tart out the door, Father Vlad right behind him. Nicholas slammed the door behind them, chuckling as he turned the lock. His laughter died abruptly when a piece of soft cheese bounced off his cheek and a pear exploded on the door frame over his head.

  He was across the room with astounding speed, catching Elizabeth's arm with one hand before she could release another tart, forcing her to drop it to the floor. With the other hand he cleared the table of what little remained there. Elizabeth shrieked as he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her up and sat her on the table.

  "Calm down. They're gone," he assured her. "No one is going to touch you. Except me."

  "I want you out, too!" she said. But it wasn't true. Despite all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, even as confused and frustrated as she was, she still wanted him as close as she could get him.

  Yet her dignity demanded more. To Bergen she seemed a thorn to dig in Nicholas's side, to Vlad a problem of some sort, to her father-in-law a breeding horse. She liked none of it, but she could tolerate it all. It was how Nicholas saw her that mattered. Every inch of her flesh craved this man she barely knew. But she needed to be more than a pawn to be shuffled about in some strange game he and his cohorts were playing.

  "Get out or--"

  His mouth silenced hers, his lips gentle but insistent. She couldn't help responding to his kiss. Couldn't deny the weak eagerness that rose in her for his touch.

  No. She mustn't -- wouldn't -- be so easy to quiet. She needed answers. She pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he ran his hands over her body, caressing it through the fur. She bit lightly at him in warning, slapped at his hands, and even kicked as much as the wrap would allow, but not with any real force. Even as confused and angry as she was at this moment, she had no real desire to resist him.

  His hands found the edge of her wrap. The fur slipped off to puddle around her bare hips and drape over the table. She made a sound against his mouth that even to her own ears sounded like a purr of anticipation. His kiss deepened. Elizabeth gave up any pretense of denying him. Her arms went around his neck and she arched towards him. Nicholas's hand splayed, fingers wide, palm flat, across the small of her back, pressing her toward him.

  "I'll still be angry..." she lied as she melted into him, "...after."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Two nights later Elizabeth climbed the stairs to the servant's quarters and, shielding the light from her lamp with the edge of her robe, tip-toed down the hall. Margaret had been moved from the doctor's room to a bedroom on the side of the house that faced the stables. No light showed beneath the door, evidence Katie, reassured by Margaret's steady recovery, had finally relinquished her vigil at her friend's side and returned to her own room. Elizabeth slipped inside and crossed to the bed.

  Margaret snored softly, her head turned to one side on the white pillowcase. A single neat braid of hair rested over the maid's shoulder covering the side of her neck. Holding her lamp to one side, Elizabeth lifted the braid away to reveal the gauze covering beneath. Her hand hesitated above the bandage. She took a deep breath. Then she carefully eased aside the gauze and bent to examine the healing wound. Her heart did a breath-robbing tumble. The wound was nearly identical to the one she'd discovered on herself in the bath earlier that evening.

  "Two punctures, approximately one and one half inches apart." A man's coarse whisper drifted out of the shadows.

  Elizabeth spun, nearly dropping the lamp. Lennie sat in a chair in one corner of the room, his feet propped up on a small stool, a pillow at his head, a blanket over his legs, a book in his lap. He appeared to be spending the night.

  "What are you doing here?" Elizabeth demanded, willing her pounding heart to slow.

  "I might ask the same of you, Lady Devlin." Lennie pushed the blanket aside and stood, holding the book in one hand. He was fully dressed in silver and black livery, right down to his shoes. "I'm keeping an eye on Margaret."

  "And I'm checking on her."

  "In the middle of the night?" Lennie pulled a fob watch from his pocket and clicked it open. He tilted it to catch the light of Elizabeth's lamp. "One o'clock. Does his lordship know his bride is out wandering at this hour?"

  Lennie must have seen something in Elizabeth's expression because his became suddenly more intense. "Or is it his lordship you're looking for?"

  "What would Devlin be doing in Margaret's room?"

  "What indeed?"

  "I came to check on Margaret," Elizabeth insisted, wondering what it was about this burly footman that made her feel she must explain herself. And lie.

  She'd visited both Margaret and her mother repeatedly since returning to Heaven's Edge with Nicholas the previous morning. Her mother's condition remained unchanged, but Margaret was recovering well. The maid had been awake and almost chatty. Most of what she said had been about the man standing before Elizabeth now. Margaret had praised Lennie to the sun. So why, at this moment, did Elizabeth feel alarmed at the footman's blunt questions?

  Lennie took the lamp from Elizabeth's hand and replaced it with the book he'd been holding. He moved to the room's single window. Elizabeth glanced down at the rough leather-bound volume in her hand. It looked old, its edges worn with time. The title was faded, unreadable.

  "So, Lady Devlin, if you are here, then I'm thinking Lord Devlin isn't in his bed, allowing as how I doubt his bride would have left it otherwise." As he spoke, Lennie pulled the curtains away from the window and lifted the lamp high as if he could use its light to peer out into the darkness at the stables below. It seemed an odd bit of theatrics to Elizabeth, strangely out of character for such a stoic man.

  Lennie dropped the curtain back in place, left the window, and handed the lamp back to Elizabeth. She offered the book to him. He shook his head.

  "Keep it," he said. "You might find the subject interesting. Judging by the number of such books in the duke's library, someone in this household does."

  Something in the man's tone disturbed Elizabeth. She wanted to leave the book behind. Instead, she found herself clutching it to her breast. Her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke again in that coarse whisper.

  "Where, Lady Devlin, is your husband tonight?"

  Elizabeth didn't answer, or even look back. She left the room and hurried down to the second floor, negotiating the stairs with ease. It still amazed her that since her wedding night the pain and swelling at her elbows and knees had almost disappeared. She could come and go as she pleased.

  She was passing the main stairwell landing when she heard soft footfalls below. She backed up, peering down into the entry hall at the circle of moonlight the transom window drew on the stone floor. She was in time to glimpse a bit of black material disappearing beyond its revealing light. Had it been a woman's skirts? Or perhaps the hem of a man's cloak? She wasn't certain. The muffled creak of the front door opening and closing sounded from below. Who would leave the house at this hour, and why?

  Elizabeth clutched the old book closer and hurried down the hall. Whoever it was might be visible from her mother's window.

  She'd crossed the threshold of her mother's room and was closing the door when she heard another sound, again the click of a door opening, this time from down the hall. Leaving her mother's door ajar and hiding the glow of the lamp with the edge of her robe, Elizabeth rested her forehead against the cool oak, listening. Behind her one of Cook's maids snored on the sofa.

  "Why not here, in the house?" The man's whisper was muffled, unrecognizable, as if he spoke through something thick and soft. The woman whispered her answer as well, but her a
ccent was unmistakable.

  "You are so eager," Lucy said, her sultry voice dripping with unspoken promises. "But if we are caught, it is I who would lose what I desire. You have nothing to lose." The rustle of skirts and the click of a man's boots came closer. "At least," Lucy's laugh was at once seductive and frightening, "nothing of value."

  The man said something Elizabeth could not make out. Lucy made a derisive noise.

  "That frail one will not satisfy you. You want me, mea favorit, but you must do it my way."

  Elizabeth could not see the stairs, but knew by the way Lucy's voice was fading away, that she and her companion were descending to the main floor. She considered following them long enough to discover the man's identity, then remembered why she'd come to her mother's room and hurried to the window.

  She was too late. Below the waning moon, the lawns stretching toward the forest were empty. If someone had passed that way, they were already gone. Elizabeth waited to see if Lucy and her companion would appear, but either they hadn't left the house or they'd gone through the kitchens and out toward the stables.

  "Who are you watching for?" Dr. Bergen's voice sounded at her shoulder.

  Elizabeth jumped, dropping the book and the brass lamp. The lamp extinguished itself harmlessly as it hit the floor. Dr. Bergen squatted to retrieve both, setting the copper lamp on a table. He opened the book and let the pages flutter through his fingers. One dark eyebrow arched.

  "No one. I was watching no one." Elizabeth held out her hand for the book. "I came to check on my mother."

  "Um-hmm," the doctor said. They stood for long seconds, Elizabeth's hand extended waiting for the book, the doctor holding it in one hand, the thumb of his other stroking its spine. Finally, he passed it to Elizabeth.

  "Some things, mea inocent, are better left unknown."

  Elizabeth had no notion what he was talking about, but nodded anyway. She eased out of the tight space between the doctor and the window. Dr. Bergen let her pass, though his pale eyes followed her in the most disconcerting way. With a final glance at her sleeping mother, Elizabeth went through the connecting dressing room to the bedroom she and her husband now shared. The bed was empty, its sheets still tousled. Nicholas hadn't returned.

  They'd come home yesterday morning after spending two nights and one idyllic day at Maidenstone. It had been a short honeymoon, but a lovely one. They'd filled the time exploring the castle ruins, walking in the woods, and making love -- sometimes tenderly, sometimes with rough abandon -- wherever and whenever the mood struck. And, Elizabeth's stomach did an odd flip remembering, the mood seemed to strike Nicholas with amazing frequency.

  By the time they'd returned to Heaven's Edge and run the day long gauntlet of staff and house guests offering congratulations -- and in the case of Countess Glenbury fishing for tidbits of lurid information -- Elizabeth was exhausted. She'd had Katie order a warm bath brought to her room, hoping to soak away some of the soreness that still lingered in intimate places.

  It was after Katie left the room, when she was alone, that Elizabeth discovered the twin puncture wounds. How long had she sat in the tub, numb with shock, before Nicholas found her? The water had gone cold around her. He'd lifted her from the tub, toweled her off, and carried her to the bed, tucking her beneath the covers. He'd stripped off his clothes and lain beside her, holding her close, warming her with his body.

  And strangely, he'd asked no questions.

  When she'd gathered the wits and words to tell him what she'd found, he'd silenced her with his mouth and hands and body, distracting and befuddling her. Afterward, she'd fallen asleep in his arms, only to wake to find him gone. She'd lain in bed for a long time waiting, and thinking, as a slow creeping cold spread through her. Once again he'd met her questions not with answers, but with the diversion of his body; just as he had so many times before: the wedding at Maidenstone, Father Vlad's odd religion, Bergen's 'protective' eavesdropping, Vlad's attempt to examine her in the tower. In each case Nicholas had avoided her questions, seducing her to silence. And she'd allowed it.

  Elizabeth bit her lip. She'd blinded herself to what she didn't want to know.

  But after so many years of loss and pain, was it wrong, knowing she was dying, to close her eyes to anything that might spoil the joy she'd found in her husband's arms? Who would be hurt if she remained ignorant? Did the whys really matter with so little time left to her?

  Nicholas had accepted the revelation of her condition with good grace. She'd married him knowing she could offer him nothing. No children. No lifetime of companionship. Nothing but death. Yet not once since learning the truth had he upbraided her for her deception. He'd never even mentioned it again.

  So when he quieted her questions with his body, she allowed it. Because she was weak. Because she was intoxicated with the man. Because she had so little time left.

  Elizabeth laid the book on the nightstand and reached for the tie at her waist. She undid it and let her robe drop to the floor.

  Hiding was not the way she'd lived her life. She'd never refused to face truth before. As a young girl, she'd faced the nearly unbearable sorrow of her father's death, along with the financial ruin that had followed. She'd dealt with her brother Robert's sudden death when she was only fifteen. And less than two years later, she'd endured a short yet endless eternity of heartbreak as her brother William had choked to death. She'd held his hand, never turning her gaze from his as he'd struggled through his last breaths. No, she'd never been a coward when it came to facing truth.

  Not until she'd allowed a handsome man to lure her into a rose garden.

  Elizabeth crossed the room to the wardrobe and selected a simple blue dress with a white lace at the hem. Nicholas's cloak was missing. The smaller one he'd used to cover her when he'd taken her from this room on their wedding night hung on a peg on the wardrobe door. Elizabeth put it on over the gown, not bothering to button it, just tying the string at her throat. Her fingers moved lightly over the unmarked skin of her neck, lingering above the pulse where her husband's lips so often pressed.

  Nicholas had offered no explanation for what had happened to Margaret. That was what had sent her to the maid's room tonight, the need for answers. She still needed them.

  Elizabeth left the house through the kitchens and went to the stables. There was no sign of Lucy and her companion. Inside the stables, the horses stirred and whinnied as she passed each stall, searching for her husband's stallion. The roan the duke had ridden on her wedding night stomped its feet in a corner stall. She stopped to stroke its head. The stall next to it was empty.

  "Who's there?" The voice warbled between childhood and manhood. A young lad sat up from a shallow pile of hay, peering in her direction, his eyes bleary with sleep. His hand fumbled along the top of a nearby feed box and a flame was struck. Lamplight filled the little corner of the stable. The roan whinnied in protest.

  The boy's eyes widened when he recognized Elizabeth. He came to his feet smartly, brushing at the straws stuck in his mop of brown hair. Elizabeth stared, perplexed, not by the boy, but by the lamp. She'd left a similar one in her room. How had she made her way through the house, across the lawns, and into the stables without benefit of light?

  "Can I help you, my lady?"

  "My husband's horse is gone," Elizabeth said.

  "Yes, Lady Devlin, he took it near an hour ago, so I've been waiting to go to bed until he returns," the boy continued without pausing for breath, "not that he asked me to, of course, Lord Devlin never asks a lad to wait up, or even get up, when he rides at night, takes care of things himself, but, I'm Jimmy, my lady," --the boy tugged with dirty fingers at a non-existent cap-- "I'm planning to make trainer 'fore I'm fifteen, like my dad done, so I wanted to show his lordship that Jimmy doesn't sleep when the horses need brushing."

  Elizabeth smiled. The child was quite a self-promoter. She wouldn't be surprised if he did become a trainer soon.

  "Not," the boy continued, "that I'm trying to take ol' Gru
bner's job here at Heaven's Edge, you understand, 'cause Grubner's the best trainer in England, I know, and he's been here since before my dad was born, but the Duke of Marlbourne has other properties and--"

  "Where did my husband go, Jimmy?" Elizabeth cut across the boy's chatter.

  "Not sure, my lady. He took the path into the woods that leads toward the ruins, but you can also get to the village going that way. There's a shortcut through the woods."

  "Thank you, Jimmy." Elizabeth started to turn away, but then paused, her teeth worrying at her lip. She could think of no reason Nicholas would go to Maidenstone in the middle of the night, and yet somehow she knew that was where he would be. But why?

  The sensible thing would be to march back into the house and await his return. But Elizabeth knew her newfound willingness to face the truth might not survive the night. And questioning her husband in the privacy of their bedroom seemed doomed to failure. He had only to touch her and she would forget everything in her need for him. Better to confront him now, before her resolve faded.

  For a moment Elizabeth considered asking Jimmy to saddle a horse for her, but she'd never had the opportunity to become a skilled rider and taking an unfamiliar horse through the woods at night was beyond her abilities. She'd have to walk. Something in her face must have betrayed her thoughts because Jimmy cleared his throat.

  "A lady can't go about at night, not after what happened to Margaret." Jimmy's face paled, but his shoulders squared. "If you need his lordship, I'll go look for him."

  The boy's words weren't merely bluster. There was courage in that young heart and no small dose of chivalry as well. Elizabeth shook her head.

  "No need, Jimmy. I'll speak with Lord Devlin in the morning. Now, I probably should return to the house. Don't wait up too long."

  The boy nodded, his face reflecting his relief. Elizabeth left the stable, pausing outside only long enough to make sure the lad hadn't followed her. She had no intention of returning to the house. Not without some answers. And Devlin was the man who was going to give them to her. Elizabeth headed for the trees.