“Guten Morgen, Herr Hilliard,” Nicholas returned the salutation decorously.
A smile slowly spread across the heavy lips, displaying a set of badly stained and crooked teeth separated by wide gaps. “It is goot of yu to come so soon.”
“Yur message appeared urgent.”
“There vas indeed a matter I vished to discuss vith yu.” Karr Hilliard waddled to the hearth and lifted a steaming kettle as he peered inquiringly at Nicholas. “Some tea, Kapitan?”
“Of course, mein Herr.” With a nod of gratitude the captain accepted the refreshment, then sipped the spiced brew, finding the addition of a dapple of mead much to his liking.
Not so the company. Nicholas came to a definite conclusion as he considered the man. He owed Karr Hilliard nothing at all.
Hilliard settled again in his chair and clasped his hands around his ponderous belly, giving the captain a lengthy perusal. He had known Nicholas for some time, and though he had never had cause to doubt him, the man’s attitude was one of casual nonchalance, as if he were one of the few who were undisturbed by his reputation. Hilliard’s brows beetled menacingly. It was a foolish man indeed who ignored the importance of his superiors. “Vhat do yu know of the Marquess of Bradbury?”
“There is none at the moment.” Nicholas took a small draught from the steaming mug and held it in his mouth a moment, savoring the taste of the tea before swallowing. “The title has been stripped from the one who bore it, mein Herr. As yet there has been no other named to replace him. Of course, the English crown is notoriously slow on these matters.”
“Yu bandy words vith me, Nicholas,” Hilliard accused jocularly. “Yu know I speak of Maxim Seymour. I believe he is a friend of yurs.”
“Oh, that one.” Nicholas wet his lips in anticipation as he refilled his mug. “He’s been my friend for some years. I used to visit his estates, and he has oft taken passage on my ship. Ve have emptied many a keg together.”
“Vere yu not the one who brought him here to Germany?”
“Indeed, it vas aboard my ship that he escaped. Yu can say he did not care to sustain the fickle attentions of her royal majesty’s headsman.”
Hilliard digested these tidbits only briefly before moving on to a more pertinent matter. “I understand the man vas accused of treason.”
“Ja, mein Herr.” Nicholas blew into the mug to cool the tea. “He vas accused of conspiracy vith the Scottish Mary and of laying down a royal agent.”
“And they say he escaped from a troop of royal guards who vere taking him to the Tower.” From the tone of his voice it was clear Hilliard found this hard to believe.
Nicholas replied with a light smile. “Ja.”
“A man of arms then?”
The captain slowly nodded. “That, too.” After taking a sip, he proceeded to enlarge upon his statement. “But not that foppish dueling kind. His knowledge and skill are born of battle, and his blade vill ever end a fight in the quickest vay possible. He has even captained a ship of his own.” Nicholas shrugged and tasted the tea again before continuing. “Vere he bound to the sea in spirit, he vould perhaps rival Drake himself.”
A low growl sounded in Hilliard’s throat. “Now there’s a raving fop! A dandy of the first vater!” His jowls fluttered and the gray eyes took on a distant look as he mulled over the information. Of course, everything he had heard this evening was nothing more than a confirmation of what he already knew. When he spoke again he laid bare the meat of his inquiry. “And vhat allegiance does Seymour still bear to this Elizabeth of his?”
It was Nicholas’s turn to be wary and thoughtful. He took another leisurely draught and, setting the mug down, folded his hands over his stomach. “I hesitate on this,” he began carefully, then locked Hilliard’s gaze with his own. “I vill tell yu vhat I know. Maxim Seymour is not a man of loose allegiance. Indeed, to the contrary, he vould as soon die for one he has called friend, yet not foolishly so. In such a case I have no doubt he vould arrange to take many vith him. As an enemy I vould respect him. As a friend I cherish him. Still, he has been injured deeply . . . in estate, stature, honor, dignity . . . and, I think, not lastly, in spirit. He chafes for vengeance and has need of income. He has considered lending his talents to Villiam the Vise and the Hessians. As an officer, he vould command a healthy stipend.” Nicholas nodded in agreement with himself. “And he vould be vorth every jot and tittle of it.”
This time Hilliard’s jowls fluttered only slightly as a calculating gleam came into his eyes. “Then yu think he vould lend out as a mercenary?”
“It is his own thought,” Nicholas replied “He has some moneys . . . some investments England cannot touch, but they dwindle rapidly. Yet I think in truth his heart begs a return to England, and should Elizabeth fall or fail, I think he vould seek his home.”
Maxim climbed the stairs three at a time and, gaining the level of the uppermost floor, crossed quickly to Elise’s door, whereupon he snatched off his toque and gloves and rapped lightly upon the sturdy planks. A soft call begged for a moment more, and after only a brief delay, the portal was opened to reveal Elise, clad in a gown of midnight blue, struggling to fasten a cuff. A warm glow of admiration brightened the emerald eyes as Maxim gave her a lengthy perusal, and the smile that followed his close examination attested to his fervent approval, drawing a blush of pleasure to her cheeks.
“Fair maid, your beauty is like the sun gracing this frozen hand with its warmth and brilliance,” he avowed gallantly, sweeping an arm across his chest and bowing low in a courtly manner.
Though the gown was subtle in its adornments, the vision she created in the wearing of it was both regal and stunning. The huge puffed sleeves were fashioned with rows of midnight blue velvet ribbon and narrow silk ruching whose iridescence changed from dark to a silverish blue. Tightly stitched tucks diminished the bulk of the sleeves at the wrists, where they ended beneath crisp, lace-edged cuffs. The ruche-edged stomacher displayed the slimness of her waist, and below it, voluminous iridescent blue skirts were distended over a rolled farthingale. The wide, pleated ruff was trimmed with costly lace and was slightly elevated in back to complement her beauty. Beneath a saucy, feathered cap that sat jauntily upon her head the auburn tresses were dressed elegantly high.
“At last!” Elise exclaimed with a smile of triumph as she closed the difficult fastener. She twirled in a tiny pirouette to show off her new gown to him and then, rising on her toes, brushed a kiss upon his cheek “Oh, Maxim, I feel so wonderfully alive this morning!”
“Aye, my love,” he agreed, bringing her close within his embrace. “You do indeed feel wonderfully alive in my arms.”
She laughed gaily and then grew serious, leaning back in his arms. “Madam Von Reijn gave me the message that you would be taking me for an outing but you gave her no hint of where we are bound. Have you received some word of my father? Are we going to talk with someone who has information about him?”
Maxim chuckled. “Does it seem impossible, my charming little goose, that I may want to spend some time with you alone? Though the vows have yet to be spoken over us, between thee and me, my love, you are now my betrothed and my promised bride. ‘Tis my desire to be with you and know that you are mine.”
Her lips took on an upward curve and made no reply, though her eyes, in tender delight, spoke volumes.
“However”—a grin widened his lips as he continued—“I have made arrangements for you to meet with Sheffield Thomas, an Englishman who was here about the time your father was taken. After you’ve spoken with him, you can make your own judgment whether or nay it was your father he saw. I’ll be fetching him here later this evening, but for now, we must be on our way. I intend to spend the whole of the afternoon with you.”
“But where are we going?” she queried eagerly.
Maxim folded his hands behind her waist and, tilting his head to the side, contemplated her a long moment before he countered with a question of his own. “What if I told you I was taking you to a place
where you will have to make a choice?”
Elise was as curious as a little child. “What kind of choice?”
“That, fair maid, you shall know soon enough.” He lowered his lips to hers and leisurely savored the sweetness of her response. The kiss quickly warmed in intensity and could have easily led to other pleasures, but he drew back with a sigh, regretting that time and wisdom denied the opportunity. “If we stay much longer,” he murmured, pressing another kiss upon her mouth, “I’ll lock the doors and have my way with you.”
Gently she laid the back of her fingers alongside his cheek “You’ll find me most willing, my lord I’m looking forward to the day the nuptials will be spoken and I’ll be your wife in truth.”
“ ‘Twill be a fair day indeed,” he whispered. “Though the winds may frost your fingers and redden your nose this day, we shall enjoy our hours together.” With a smile he set her from him. “Now fetch your wrap, my love, and let’s be off ere I carry out my threat.”
With his help Elise donned the fur-lined cloak given to her on the sea voyage and tucked her hand within the security of his arm as he led her from the room and down the stairs. As they descended she felt the pride of being at his side. Even when casually attired Maxim was a most handsome man, of that fact there could be no dispute, but this morning he was garbed in fine apparel: a taupe velvet doublet, puffed trunk hose of the same hue, and a rich burgundy chamarre lavishly embroidered with gold threads around the high, stiff collar. The scrolled design of the elaborate needlework broadened as it traced down the front and around the hem. The garment was lined with fur and rivaled any Nicholas had ever sported.
Therese stood at the front door to bid them farewell, and though her smile was kindly, the small, worried frown that flitted across her brow gave an indication of her concern. “Take yu care on the streets not to get lost.”
Sensing that her anxieties were born in areas other than what her words conveyed, Maxim took the aged hands within his and smiled down into the pale blue eyes rimmed by wrinkled lids and a thin smattering of pale lashes. “You needn’t worry, Frau Von Reijn. I have a care for Nicholas, too.”
Her head, crowned with bands of pale, yellow-white braids and wispy tendrils, slowly nodded, as if accepting the true meaning of what he said. In what seemed like acquiescent resignation, she clasped her hands together before her waist and watched them depart.
The horses were saddled and waiting, and Maxim lifted Elise to the back of her mount before carefully tucking her cloak around her. Swinging up on Eddy, he reined the stallion close to the mare, and together they set off on a leisurely jaunt down the cobbled thoroughfare.
The day was brisk and cold with a wintry wind that rushed through the city, stirring the crisp air and bringing a rosy bloom to Elise’s cheeks. It was some time later when they halted outside a modest church and Maxim swung down from his mount. Bidding Elise to wait, he entered the structure and returned a short moment later. Sweeping off his toque, he halted beside her mount, seeming as hesitant as a young had with his first love.
“Elise . . .” The name came from his lips in a yearning whisper, as if he found the matter too difficult to address.
“What is it, Maxim?” She was sweetly attentive, watching him with adoring eyes.
“Last eventide . . . I asked you if you would give me answer . . . and to my everlasting pleasure, you said yea.” He turned the hat in his gloved hands and, for a moment, seemed uncertain. “Elise, I would know now if you did speak true . . . for I have waiting inside a man of the cloth who has consented to marry us this very moment . . . if you will but agree.”
Wonderment filled her at his manner. Maxim was so strong and manly, always so self-assured, she would never have guessed he could ever show such incertitude with her, especially when she had already given him a reply. Perhaps their union meant more to him than she had realized.
A growing smile gave him her answer, and Elise reached out her hands to lay on his broad shoulders, encouraging him to lift her from her mount. Taking her in his arms, Maxim held her close against him, as if relishing the moment and the light of love he saw in her eyes, then joy came and swept them along with it. He set her to her feet and caught her hand. Elise laughed as they dashed into the church and responded warmly when Maxim paused to press an ardent kiss upon her lips. Smiling into her eyes, he led her into a small rectory where a monk gave them a jovial greeting before heading them to a spartan chapel.
Elise followed, oblivious to the sights, the sounds, and the smells that were not a part of them, and yet completely aware of everything that transpired between them and even more mindful of the man who knelt beside her. As the vows were exchanged, binding them together, his long, brown fingers clasped hers in an unspoken communication of commitment. In fascination she observed the play of knuckles, bone, and muscle across the back of his hand where golden hairs gleamed with the sheen of the soft candlelight. Her own hand looked pale and small within his, and there she silently vowed it would rest as a symbol of her trust.
The priest announced them one and presented a parchment for them to sign. Elise stood close as Maxim took quill in hand and scrawled his name boldly across the piece. Perhaps it was the budding realization that he was now her husband that made the moment seem so wonderful and yet so excitingly strange. When she thought back on the circumstances that had brought about this event, she could hardly believe they were now wed. Once, she had been certain that she hated him.
“If ever I should return to England,” Elise whispered close against his shoulder, “I shall have to speak with the Queen. She does not judge a man rightly if she declared you guilty of all the crimes laid against you.”
The rosy glow in her face conveyed her confidence in him and in her future with him. Perhaps he had been selfish to take her to wife when so many things were as yet uncertain, but he could not chance losing her. Indeed, Nicholas’s increasingly zealous courtship had brought home to him just how much he wanted her for his own. “The thought comes to mind, madam, that Elizabeth would tell you that you are blind to your husband’s faults.”
Elise answered with puckish spirit. “I shall instruct her differently, I think. Indeed! My father earned some merits attending the Queen’s duties. Should she not in turn give an ear to the daughter of one of her loyal subjects?”
Maxim laid an arm about his bride’s shoulders and brought her close against his side. “She should indeed, my love, and I believe you are just the one to tell her.”
He moved aside, allowing her space at the tall desk to accomplish the signing of the parchment. The letters flowed gracefully from the tip of the quill and ended in a flamboyant flourish, giving evidence of her elation. Their eyes melded, and so intent were they upon the other, they hardly noticed when the monk sprinkled sand across the drying ink and took the documents away. They were lost in a world of their own as Maxim lowered his lips to hers and sealed their vows with a kiss.
Farewells and words of gratitude were spoken before they took their leave. A blustery wind whipped their cloaks and snatched their breath with its crisp chill as they ran from the church. Maxim swept his young bride into the saddle and then snugged the fur-lined wrap close about her as he spoke.
“There’s an inn nearby where we might dine”—a slow grin curved his lips upward as he continued— “and pass a few moments alone together.”
Elise smiled through a blush, unable to find an appropriate reply while her heart quickened with a new excitement. The opportunity to be alone had seemed so far away, she had not dared to hope for even a few moments of privacy while in Lubeck, but then, she should have known that Maxim would make the time happen. He was just that sort of man.
Some moments later they entered a small, but neat, establishment a short distance away, where Maxim made inquiries for a room. The innkeeper was somewhat in awe of his wealthily garbed guests and begged a moment to prepare suitable chambers. A serving maid hurried to place a proper meal upon the table Maxim indicated. It was a
small trestle table set between rough-hewn benches with tall, solid backs that protected them from the curious stares of the other patrons.
“To our marriage,” he whispered as he lifted his goblet of wine in toast.
With a glowing smile Elise raised her glass and entwined her arm with his. “May it be nurtured by love . . .”
“And many children,” he added softly.
Staring into the eyes of the other, each sipped the wine and ended the salute with a long, slow kiss. Maxim sighed as he pulled away slightly. “I’m impatient to make you my wife in truth.”
“Only a few moments more,” she breathed with a warming blush.
“When each moment seems like a year, my lady, ‘tis hard to wait.”
“My lady?” Elise marveled at the sound of the address.
“Yea,” Maxim affirmed in a whisper, squeezing her fingers. “Lady Elise Seymour and, should ever I regain my title, the most lovely Marchioness of Bradbury. Until then”—he brought her hand to his lips—“my love.”
Her cheeks brightened with a fresh glow of color. “ ‘Tis the last I prefer above all others, my lord . . . to be your love . . .” Tentatively she tried out the title. “ . . . my lord and my husband.” Her eyes drank their fill of his handsome features. “Never did I dream when I was snatched so rudely from England that I would come to bless that day.”
Maxim gave her a wayward grin. “Never did I imagine when you dumped that pail of icy water on me that I would come to be thankful you were taken instead of Arabella. An overwhelming desire to lay my hand boldly to your bare backside was not born of lust that morn, my love, but rather another kind of passion, the sort that yearns for vengeance.”
With sparkling eyes Elise reached up to press a kiss upon his lips. “ ‘Twas only your just due, my lord,” she teased. “Your plan to capture Arabella was not of a gallant mien.”
“ ‘Twould seem that a far wiser hand than mine guided the events of that night.”
So Worthy My Love Page 35