Fates for Apate

by Sue London

  He kissed her cheek and side of her throat. “If you’re still sore we can wait. We’ll have time on the boat with nothing better to do.”

  “You won’t be seasick?” she teased.

  “Hmm, good question. Is the Channel rough? I’ve only been on rivers before.”

  “It can be rough, but most likely nothing worse than the infernal jostling of that carriage.”

  “Are you sore from all the travel, ukochany?”

  She felt herself melt from what she was sure was an endearment in his native language. It was hard to say whether she would rather learn to speak Polish or simply listen to the nonsensical poetry of his words when she didn’t know what he meant.

  “No,” she said in a small voice. “I’m not sore.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to make love to me. Please?”

  As a good husband, he fulfilled her request.

  *

  This would hopefully be their last day in the carriage. On the one hand Casimir was heartily tired of spending all day racing across the countryside. On the other, this was essentially a place out of time where he and Gina had nothing to occupy their time except each other. Today she had broken out a set of cards from her luggage and they were playing piquet on the seat between them. It was a challenge keeping the tricks organized on the leather seat while the carriage jostled about, and there had been more than one outbreak of teasing each other about cheating when a crucial card had been covered up by the shifting.

  She was crowing her triumph over taking another trick when a ray of light shined across her face, highlighting her smile and laughing eyes. Casimir felt his heart lodge in his throat. She was so beautiful, so full of life. Had he endangered her with this letter? Would his protection be enough? He had wanted to marry her anyway, but knowing that his name might stay Otto’s wrath had made it that much more urgent. Now she was his, in every way. At times she had a reserve that concerned him, but their rapport was such that he didn’t worry about it overly. It turned out that building up their friendship first was standing them in good stead. Honestly, she was among the best friends he had ever had. He felt neither her superior nor inferior. They were evenly matched in wit, and their temperaments complementary. He looked forward to spending the rest of his days with her.

  A lock of her hair had fallen out of her pins. The pins he had helped her clean the wax from two days before, while they laughed and formed tiny wax animals with the shards. He reached to smooth the lock back over her ear. She looked up at him, an expression of pure longing on her features for a moment before she gave him one of her typical wry smiles.

  “Trying to distract me from my play?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She chuckled and looked back down at her cards. “How can I take seriously a compliment from the man who charmed every woman in Vienna with his flattery before he left?”

  “Flattery? I object. I’m always completely honest with my assessment of a woman’s finer qualities.”

  That earned him a snort. “Honesty is rarely complimentary and never flattering.”

  “See? As I said, I do not use flattery.”

  She arched her brows at him. He set his cards down for a moment. “The trick, you see, lies not in complimenting what you admire about the other person, but in what they admire about themselves.”

  “That isn’t flattery?”

  “Let me demonstrate.”

  She waved a hand at him. “You already said I was beautiful.”

  “Yes, I broke my own rule. That was a subjective observation, something that I admire about you.” He paused. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “My honest assessment of your finer qualities.”

  She smirked and put down another trick. “As you wish.”

  “You’re more competitive than any man I’ve ever met.”

  She looked up at him in surprise, obviously warring with herself not to look pleased. “What makes you say that?”

  It was his turn to arch a brow. “You can climb buildings, carry more weapons than anyone I’ve ever met, and play cards like a stevedore on leave. Yet you are also fully competent on the etiquette required of a woman. You perhaps even have a feminine accomplishment or two to brag about.”

  “I’m a fair artist,” she mumbled. “And can play a song or two on the harpsichord.”

  “The only thing left for me to wonder is what drives a woman to be like that?”

  “What drives a man to be like you?” she countered. “To learn a dozen languages and how to charm everyone in his sphere. It wasn’t just the women who loved you in Vienna, you know. The men couldn’t say enough good things about you, either. Even odd little John Howards.”

  “John isn’t odd,” Casimir said with a frown, “he’s just…”

  “Odd,” Gina supplied for him. “But he likes you. Everyone likes you.”

  “I can assure you that not everyone does. Otto was certainly less than pleased with me when I left.”

  “Oh yes, I apologize. There might be one or two people in the world who aren’t in love with you.”

  “In love with me?” He smiled. “I only need one.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him and laid down her last trick. “Count your points, I think I’m winning.”

  She was adorable. But she still hadn’t said that she loved him. Should that worry him as much as it did?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It was late when they arrived at the docks. George was regretting even bringing her trunks back with her as they created an additional complication now. The coachman wanted to unload them so that he could head home immediately in the morning. It was unlikely that they would find a ship they could board this late in the evening, which meant they would need to unload at an inn and pay to have the trunks transported in the morning. She rubbed her forehead, trying to evaluate the logistics.

  Casimir laid a comforting hand against her cheek. “Do you want me to find out if it’s possible to board a ship this evening?”

  She sighed. “No, I think it would be a waste of time.”

  “All right, then I will secure a room for us tonight while you negotiate payment with your driver.”

  “Some place respectable, please. I don’t want to come this far only to be killed in our sleep at some wretched boarding house near the waterfront.”

  “Yes, my love, some place respectable. Make sure your man here doesn’t rush off, we’ll need him to bring our luggage to the inn once I pick it.”

  “Of course.”

  George watched Casimir walk off under the street lights of Calaise and had to wonder at herself. It felt disturbingly natural to share decisions and duties with him, as though they had always done so. It also seemed it would feel easy to rely on him and that was something she did not want herself to do. She still wasn’t entirely sure about his motivations and she didn’t want her heart breaking any more than necessary if it turned out that he wasn’t being completely honest with her.

  *

  George awoke and stretched in the luxurious bed. Casimir had found them lodging in what she suspected was the finest inn to be had in Calais. The staff had taken care of her luggage and promised to secure the couple passage on an early packet to Dover. By the time she had arrived at the room a steaming bath had been waiting. She still wasn’t sure if he had paid for all this or charmed them out of it, but either way she was grateful. Perhaps she could use her training to show him exactly how grateful.

  He stirred when she moved the blankets out of the way. “Gini, what are you…? Oh.” He buried his fingers in her hair as she licked and kissed and suckled his cock. He was a beautifully made man, even down to this most intimate part. She delighted in hearing his sighs, feeling his fingers tighten in her hair at his pleasure. But as much as she was enjoying pleasuring him, her own body was craving to have him inside her again.

  *

  Casimir had never felt his cock so well-loved by a woman’s
mouth. Perhaps she hadn’t been a virgin coming into their marriage, but that wasn’t all bad. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to submit to her ministrations until his completion, which honestly seemed like it could be any moment now, or turn her over and fuck her fast and hard the way his cock wanted him to. Then he saw her hips grind against the blankets as though she were having the same thoughts and his decision was made. She squeaked in surprise when he rolled her onto her back but she was hot and wet for him, and wrapped those long legs around his waist to take him in deeper. He lost himself in the nearly brutal need to take her. It had never been like this with any other woman. She drove him mad with desire, with a need to claim her in the most primal of ways. He felt her inner muscles clench around him and heard that keening pant that signaled her climax. Thank God she enjoyed it hot and fast like this because there were times when he wasn’t capable of anything else with her. Within moments he spilled his seed, holding onto her as though she were his life raft in an open sea.

  *

  George could see the cliffs of Dover. England. Home. Within an hour they would be docking and finding a fast carriage to London. If they traveled overnight she would make it just in time for Sabre’s wedding. She was more excited about coming home than she had expected. She knew this because for the last hour she had been telling Casimir everything she could think of to share about England. Now she was pointing at the cliffs and talking about the history of the area. He had the good grace to look intently interested in everything she was saying. If she hadn’t loved him before today, then today she would have fallen for him. This morning he made love to her like a man consumed with desire, and now listened to her prattling as if she were the most interesting person he’d ever known. If she loved him any more, that love would become a physical, tangible thing. She wanted to jealously hide him away where no one else would ever interfere. She wanted to parade him around and indulge in the envy she would see on other’s faces. Perhaps not just love then, but obsession and possession as well. She didn’t care. She was giddy with emotion. Coming home. Having Casimir. It was all one huge maelstrom of joy in her heart.

  “I’ve prattled enough. Tell me something about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  He smiled. “That could take awhile. Mayhaps you could narrow it down for me?”

  “Hmm. Have you ever been in love before?” It felt like a dangerous question, one that could hurt her heart, but she wanted to know the answer.

  “Before you? No. Although I was engaged once before.” His eyes turned dark and perhaps a bit melancholy with memory. “It put me off long engagements. I’m glad we didn’t have one.”

  “So somewhere there is a woman who pines for you that I need to be on the lookout for?”

  “Pine for me? No, I’m quite sure she doesn’t.”

  “It sounds like it ended badly.”

  “That would be putting it mildly. But she taught me a lot about trust.”

  “Such as?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?”

  “Don’t trust anyone. Ever.”

  The look in his eyes made a cold chill go through George’s heart. Casimir had always been charming, entertaining, warm. Seeing him like this was like suddenly realizing the room was full of flowers because it was a funeral. She didn’t know quite what to say, but the joy that had been overflowing her heart dried up and scattered to the wind. They spent the final hour to Dover in silence.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  There had been an uncomfortable silence since he had mentioned his engagement. They had spoken about the logistics of getting to London, but otherwise nothing. There was much more to the story that he didn’t want to go into right now, but it would certainly help if he mended this bridge with Gina before it became impassable. He loved his wife, he really did. But it was true that he wasn’t one to trust easily. He just hadn’t meant to point that out so badly and bluntly.

  They were sitting on the carriage seat without touching, something that was rare for them now. He tapped his boots against hers. “Are you going to spend the rest of the day moping?”

  The look she turned on him was part affront and part disbelief.

  He gave an overly dramatic sigh. “It’s just I mention a former fiancée and now you’re like a monk with a vow of silence.”

  “It wasn’t…” She looked at him as though trying to ascertain if he was being serious. “It wasn’t the fiancée.”

  Now he gave her an overdone frown. “It is an English tradition to observe silence as one approaches the cliffs of Dover?”

  “Casimir, what are you doing?”

  He set his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “Apologizing. You didn’t know what you were asking and I didn’t know that I was still that bitter. I’m sorry.”

  She pulled back to look at him. “I’m sorry, too. You didn’t deserve whatever it is that she did to you.”

  He smiled. “It’s good to have a wife. She believes in you no matter what.”

  She gave a small smile, but still searched his eyes as though there was something she was expecting to find.

  *

  If George were completely honest with herself, she wasn’t just bothered by Casimir’s outburst about trust, she was frightened. She had been concerned that he could be manipulating her, leading her on, but she hadn’t really considered it a strong possibility. Then she had seen the darkness that had been lurking beneath the surface, and now she wasn’t so sure. What had she done bringing him back to England? What did he really want? What was he capable of? He had gone back to being even-tempered and charming, but now she was intensely curious about what he was truly like. Yet also concerned. For once in her life she almost wanted to live in a pleasant fantasy rather than know the truth of a thing. That wasn’t like her at all. She had always been driven by uncovering the truth. It underlay everything that led her to the career she had chosen. But just now, as she looked down at their joined hands on the carriage seat, she wasn’t sure she wanted the truth at all.

  *

  Casimir stared out the window to the dark night, holding Gina against his shoulder while she slept. It was possible his actions had been too rash, too impulsive. He’d chosen an English bride and married her in a Protestant ceremony. He was traveling to London with no plan beyond protecting her. Where would they live? What would the reaction be from her family? What exactly was it that she did for the British Empire? It was clear she had been on some sort of assignment in Vienna, but doing what? His rational mind told him that he was a fool. But with her resting so trustingly against him, her breath a soft brush against his neck, it was impossible to convince himself that what he was doing was wrong. Something about her drew him, gave him hope for a new future he had never considered before. It was possible that meant he was an even bigger fool. Everything in his life had instructed him not to trust, not to hope. Now Gina had come along, looking like the worst lesson of that, yet he couldn’t help himself from loving her.

  As he wasn’t sure what the morrow would bring, he settled in to get some sleep.

  *

  George awoke as the carriage once more came to a stop. They had changed horses twice during the night. The expense for traveling so rapidly to Sabre’s wedding was staggering, but it would be worth it. She couldn’t believe that both she and Sabre had missed Jack’s wedding. Jack, the peacemaker and supportive one of the three of them hadn’t had either of her best friends to support her when she needed it most. George always teased Jack for being serious and, honestly, for being so loving. Emotion had always been something of an anathema to George. She far preferred interacting with Sabre, whose emotional gamut essential went from curious to irritated, and spent the most time in a fairly neutral state. Jack was always… solicitous. Jack noticed when George was out of sorts. Not that Sabre didn’t notice, Sabre noticed everything. But Sabre didn’t, well, she didn’t care. That sounded harsh, but was essentially true. Or if she care
d, she was perfectly happy to let others sort out things for themselves. Jack always wanted to help. George liked to keep things to herself.

  Casimir stirred next to her.

  “Have we arrived?” he asked sleepily.

  “I’m not sure.” She peeked out the window to see that a dim pre-dawn gray lit the sky. They were in a stable yard and she could hear the driver working with the horses. “Just at the outskirts of London, I think.”

  Casimir looped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. “So it won’t be much longer.”

  “Most likely not.” George paused, enjoying the feeling of his chest against her back, his hand drifting over her rib cage. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait until after Sabre’s wedding to tell everyone that we’re married.”

  She felt him stiffen a bit behind her, but his words were calm and friendly enough. “If you like.”

  “I just don’t think Sabre will understand if I upstage her by arriving unexpectedly and announcing I’m married.”

  Casimir chuckled. “She’s marrying a duke. How exactly do you think anything you can do would upstage her?”

  She affected a flippant tone. “I realize you’re marrying a duke and all, but now I’m an international spy and have married a devastatingly handsome foreigner. Sorry you couldn’t attend our wedding but at the time we were running for our lives.”

  “Well, yes, perhaps if you put it that way it could create some drama.”

  “May I say, I haven’t seen you sending announcements of our wedding back to your home, so I supposed I shouldn’t feel too guilty about not sharing the news immediately.”

  “As you said, we have been running for our lives.”

  She was silent a moment, caressing her hand over his. “This was all rather poorly done of us, wasn’t it? Marrying suddenly and, well, covertly.”

  He turned her in the seat. With the slowly brightening dawn she could just make out his face. “Do you regret it?” he asked.

  “Do you?”

  “Do I regret that we didn’t have an enormous wedding with all of our friends and families? Somewhat. Do I regret marrying you, being with you now? No.”