The Princess and the Marquess

by Aliyah Burke

  “Ciara,” he mumbled as he set Lady Levon away from him, “I need to talk to you.”

  “I am spending the day with the Harringtons. I will be accompanying them to the opera tonight, so you can go with your friends. Have a nice day.” She walked past him and out through the door, her back ramrod straight.

  “I will accompany you to the opera.”

  Spinning around, she flicked her eyes over him in a dismissive way. “Don’t bother. It appears to me that you are busy.” She walked down the steps without looking back and joined Rafe and Devonna in the carriage with her animals, which drove away the second she was inside.

  * * * *

  The opera was interesting. Ciara didn’t pay much attention for she was thinking about her husband. She saw him sitting with the lovely widow in his box. His gaze was on her, however, and not the play, or the lady next to him. Keeping her own eyes fixed on the performance below, she didn’t notice when he left. At least that was what she told herself.

  As they left the opera house, Rafe helped the women into the carriage. “I will drop you off first and then escort Ciara home,” he said to his wife. She nodded and soon it was just Rafe and Ciara in the carriage.

  “Rafe, will you take me somewhere?”

  “Where?”

  “Lady Polly’s. I assume that you know where it is.”

  “Why do you want to go there?”

  “Will you take me there or not?”

  “Yes. He is a good man, you know.”

  “Don’t defend him to me. I don’t want to hear it.” She waved him quiet.

  They pulled up across the street from the house and, as they watched, another carriage arrived. Out stumbled a very drunk Phillip followed by a scantily clad Christine. Lucien came next, just as drunk as Phillip, perhaps more so, and lifted Polly down. Their lips met as his hands roamed all over her body.

  “I have seen enough. Take me home.” Her voice was dead. Rafe knocked on the roof and the carriage rolled off, leaving the patrons to their business on the street.

  As they stopped in front of the townhome, Rafe stretched out a hand to assist her. After he walked her to the door, she smiled at him and spoke. “Thank you for such a lovely night. I really enjoyed the opera.”

  Once in her room, Ciara stripped out of her clothes and dressed in her buckskins. She woke her son and readied him for the ride. She sent for a horse and the footman looked surprised but did as she ordered. Within the hour, she was riding back to Heartstone. Only once she left London did she allow the tears to fall.

  * * * *

  Lucien came home the next afternoon. “Where is my wife?”

  “She is gone.” His words were hushed.

  “Very well. When she returns, tell her, I wish to speak to her. Is my son with her?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  That was the routine for the next couple of months. Lucien immersed himself back into his old life and seemed to forget that he had a wife. He would ask about her rarely and didn’t seem the least bit worried about his son either, for he was with his mother.

  One day a message came from his father’s house. The duke was in a bad way health-wise. Heading over right away, Lucien slowed as he entered the house and saw the same doctor his wife had turned away. The man was dirty, scruffy-looking for a doctor.

  “How is my father?”

  “He is very sick. He should be bled, but he is asking for you. You need to tell him to let me bleed him.” The doctor glared at the son as he entered his father’s room.

  “Father. You sent for me?” Lucien was shocked. His father looked horrible. His skin was pasty and pale. There didn’t look like he had any blood in him to be let.

  “Where is she?”

  “Who? Where is who?” Lucien stood by the bed wondering if his old man was delirious.

  “Your wife. Ciara. I want her. You said that she could heal. This old sawbones wants to bleed me. Get her here.” He collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for breath.

  “My wife?”

  “Yes, you idiot. Your wife.”

  “All right. I will have her come here.” Rising, he went to the door and sent a footman with a note to his wife. Then he shut the door on the pacing doctor and went to sit by his father. His wife, he hadn’t seen her for a while. He had been avoiding her, almost.

  “Where is she?”

  “I just sent for her. Why do you want her? I thought you didn’t like her?”

  “If she healed you after what you went through, she can help me. I am being poisoned. I don’t trust the doctor.”

  “Poisoned? What makes you think that?” How long had it been since he had been with his wife? Too long. He missed her at night, well, the ones he was sober enough to remember.

  “Pay attention, boy. Don’t let that doctor near me, or my wife. Got it?” The words broke through and caused Lucien to stop and look at his father. He was not acting—he actually thought that he was being poisoned.

  There was a knock on the door and he hollered for them to enter and it was to admit not his wife but the same footman with a missive for him. He opened it and just about roared in fury.

  My lord, your wife is where she has been for the past two months, at Heartstone. I have sent a rider for her and hopefully she will return before the morning.

  Foley

  “Well, where is she?”

  “Heartstone. She is at Heartstone.”

  Two months. How had he not noticed? Because he had been out with Phillip and the courtesans. God, he was such a fool. That was why the staff looked at him so strangely when he asked about his wife. He hadn’t even gone into her room.

  He had been so angry that she didn’t want him at the opera, he hadn’t spoken to her. Just drank, nothing else. Rafe and Devonna had not been around to see him either. Had Rafe been right?

  He knew he had not been unfaithful in the manner of cheating, except for that first night when he kissed Lady Polly. Other than that, he gave off only the appearance of cheating, but his body wouldn’t perform for another woman. His sole source of release had been by his own hand. And that he wouldn’t admit to anyone, including his wife.

  Yelling to the room, he sent a note to Devonna and Rafe to come to him. Then he tossed out the doctor and paced the room as he waited. Devonna came alone.

  “Saint?” Her soft voice hit him.

  “Where is she?” He grabbed her arm and shook her.

  “Saint, please. Don’t do that.” He dropped her arm and looked down at his sister. She was pregnant, and about at the time when she should be going into seclusion. “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since the night we went to the opera. That was two months ago.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he roared.

  “What did you want me to come here for?”

  “Father thinks that he has been poisoned.” He searched her eyes for sympathy and found none.

  “Oh. That’s too bad. Is that all? I am tired and wish to go home.” She nodded her head coolly at her brother and left how she came. Silent.

  * * * *

  The duke was worsening. It was predawn when the bedroom door swung open to admit a woman dressed in buckskins, accompanied by a black wolf and smelling of fresh air, honey and berries. Ciara. She walked toward the bed, ignoring her husband, and focused on the man lying there.

  “You came. I didn’t know if you would.” The duke’s voice was rough from all of his coughing.

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to.” Flicking a glance at Lucien, she spoke, “I need hot water, clean bedding and towels.”

  Lucien sent the order to the servants waiting then went to stand by his wife. She moved with efficiency stoking up the fire and opening the windows to let the smell of sickness out.

  When her items came, she made the duke drink two cups of liquid then had Lucien move him to a lounge in the sunlight, wrapped tight by blankets. While he dozed there, she stripped the bed and remade it quicker than any of his servants could have done
. Once that was done, he carried his father back.

  “He is very sick. He also lost a lot of blood. Did they bleed him?”

  “I think so.” Lucien spoke in hushed words as she made sure his father was sleeping.

  “He has a fever. I can’t promise anything. I will do my best.” She settled down into a chair beside the bed, ignoring the fact that her husband, whom she hadn’t seen in two months, was in the room.

  “Where have you been?” he asked as he pulled up a chair next to her. He would be calm and get his answers.

  “Heartstone.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “You didn’t need me here. You have your mistresses here. I hate the city. I tried to tell you that, but all you did was push me to more appointments to meet more people that wanted to stare at me. I left.”

  “You didn’t tell me.” His voice grew hard, as was his body from seeing his beautiful wife and being tantalized by her sweet scent.

  “Humph. I doubt you even noticed I was gone. Probably just thought I was out in the garden or something like that.”

  “Damn it. You are my wife. You belong with me. You will stay here after my father is better.”

  “No. I will stay until your father is better and then I will leave. There is nothing for me here.” Slanting him a cool, unfeeling glance, she added, “Bryn is doing fine, thanks for asking.”

  That hurt. He had forgotten to ask about his son. Only because he had been worried about her and what she had been doing.

  “What have you been doing there? Who have you been seeing?”

  “I can’t believe you are going to act like a jealous husband now.”

  “You are mine. I won’t tolerate anything but faithfulness from you,” he spat.

  “Leave. Leave me to nurse your father.” She rose and checked on Faolan then sat down and stared off into space.

  Lucien erupted. He jumped out of the chair then stomped over to where she was sitting and yanked her up to her feet. He pulled her along out of the door, ignoring the word she mumbled to Faolan, and yelled to a servant that they would be back soon.

  Shoving her through the door ahead of him, he then slammed it shut. “Damn you. You are my wife. I did you a favor by marrying you. Do you understand that? If I find out that you have not been faithful, there will be hell to pay.”

  She nodded and moved past him toward the door. “I have not ever been unfaithful to you.”

  “I did not say you could leave yet.” He advanced on her.

  “Enough of this. I came for your father, not to fight with you.”

  “You are mine, and you would do well to remember that.” Lucien was angry with himself but taking it out on Ciara. Two months she had just left him alone, by all accounts not caring what he did or whom he did it with. “Don’t you even care what I have been doing?” Not that he had done anything.

  “I have a good idea, but no, I don’t. I saw you that night, you know. The night of the opera.” She added at his blank look, “You were all over that woman—Lady Polly was her name, I believe. I don’t have to listen to this or you. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

  She saw me? From what he remembered, he had been kissing and groping Polly in the street. “I didn’t say you could leave. Maybe I wish to claim my husbandly rights.”

  “Perhaps you should go drink some more. I don’t think you are quite rude enough yet.” Ciara turned back toward the door. “Don’t even think about it. I won’t stop him this time.” Her voice was hard and lethal.

  Lucien looked down into the full fury of a raging wolf. Faolan kept himself between him and his mistress. There was no sign of recognition in his gaze. He wanted to hurt the human he was facing. Lucien stopped. What kind of man tried to terrorize his wife? “Go then. I don’t need you. There are plenty other women that would like my attentions.”

  “I am sure there are. Goodbye, Wolf.” She and her now silent wolf slipped out of the door and, as it shut, Lucien felt the walls close in on him.

  * * * *

  Ciara battled the duke’s fever for the next seven days. She rarely ventured out of the room, and when she did, she left Faolan to keep watch over him. She made the food herself for him, not trusting anyone else to make it.

  On the eighth day, she was sitting looking out of the window when she heard his voice, gravelly and rough. “You did it. You came.”

  “Aye.”

  “Will I live?”

  “For a while yet. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes.” He sat with slow movements in bed. “Was it poison?”

  “Aye. It was in your drink. I would be more careful who you trust.” She set a bowl of broth by him with some soft bread. “Eat slowly.”

  When he was done, she gave him some water. “Where is my son?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Are you leaving now?” He watched as she gathered up her herb pouches.

  “Aye. I did what I came to do. I must return to my son.”

  “What about my son?”

  “What about him?”

  “Is he going with you?”

  “Don’t know.” She headed for the door that flew open before she got there. Lucien stumbled in. He was unshaven and unkempt.

  “You are all right?” The slurred question was aimed at the duke on the bed.

  “Yes. Your wife did it.”

  “Ah yes. My wife. The one who doesn’t care what I do or who I do it with.” He leered at her but kept his distance as he spied the wolf. “Who never goes anywhere without her protector.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “How nice of you to notice, Father. Yes I am.”

  “I will leave instructions with your butler. You should be on your feet in a few days.” Ciara spoke to the duke, avoiding her husband, and slipped out of the door and left.

  “Are you going after her?” The duke’s question followed her into the hall.

  “What for? She is just going home. I will see her later. I brought her son to town.”

  Ciara heard the declaration.

  Swinging astride Artemis, she headed for his townhome and retrieved her son. She took him with as she headed back to Heartstone. Ciara was the object of many stares as she rode through the streets of London, in pants, astride a horse, with a wolf and mountain lion keeping pace with her.

  Lucien found his man Foley, nursing a bump on his head when he returned to the house. Bryn was gone and there was no sign of his wife. Cursing, he spun to go get her, but got sidetracked by Phillip and an invitation to go to Polly’s house.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A few mornings later found him being awakened by a screaming woman. His sister. Devonna was standing in his bedroom raising the dead with her screeches. It was as if she had never been scared of him in her life. She was on the warpath and he was, by some misfortune, in the way.

  “Bloody hell, Devonna. Get out of my room and shut your mouth.”

  “Get your lazy butt out of bed. I can’t believe you. I have let this go for too long. Now you have done it. Get up. Get up!”

  He stood up, naked as the day he was born, hoping that would send her running from the room, but all she did was arch a brow at him and toss him his robe. Pounding head, sore muscles and in desperate need of a bath, Lucien glared at his sister. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to keep you from making any more mistakes. Get dressed.”

  “I need a bath. I need to shave. You need to leave.”

  “She’s gone.” Devonna sat her pregnant body on the bed he’d just vacated.

  “Who’s gone?” The light was so bright. It was too early for this. “Look, I don’t know what you are rambling on about. I didn’t get in until this morning because I was, well…”

  “I know exactly what you were doing. With who and where. What happened to you? I thought you would have changed. She was perfect for you, you know.”

  “Who, my wife? She left me. Get that through your head, little sister.”

 
“Watch your tone to my wife, Luc.” Rafe’s deep voice entered the conversation as he stepped forward and moved next to her.

  “You too? What do you want?” Could the morning get any worse? Morning? He needed to sleep until late afternoon at the very least.

  “Nothing. I wouldn’t be here at all if not for my wife’s insistence. I think that you are getting everything that you deserve.” Disgust laced his tone and his stance.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I am supposed to give this to you. It came to me because she said she didn’t know where you were staying.” Devonna flipped the note on the bed beside her. “She didn’t leave you, Saint. You pushed her away.” His sister’s voice had softened.

  “What are you talking about? I’m still here, she’s not.” He didn’t want sympathy from her. That would make him think about her.

  “You dragged her to London. When you got here, you dumped her to the mercy of the ton. She couldn’t go riding, she couldn’t go for a walk with her son without five people following her.

  “You made her an object that people wanted to see. She tried to change. She wore the dresses and other clothes you said she had to wear. She let you take her son away and put him with a governess. You took her freedom from her.

  “My god, Saint. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it. She wasn’t happy. You told me yourself that they called her the ‘heart of the mountain.’ What did you think was going to happen when you tossed her into town?

  “Then you abandoned her. You started hanging around with Phillip. The morning of your wedding breakfast, on our walk, before we came in to see you holding the Lady Levon in your arms, we heard two women bragging about how they had lain with the Black Marquess even though he had been married.

  “All she did was try to make you happy by changing for you. All you did was make her life miserable and make her a laughingstock. ‘The American heathen that couldn’t keep her husband satisfied. The one with all the awful manners, which is why he sent her back out to the country, so she wouldn’t embarrass him.’