Lady Trent

by GinaRJ

  And then she and Jacob were given a space to dance alone…nobody but her and him. By then she was on her fourth glass of wine and felt very relaxed. She simply followed Jacob’s lead and it all fell into place. She giggled on a few occasions, once to simply cover up the fact that her heart had begun to pound and her blood had gone warm. She felt at one point as if a swarm of butterflies had been loosed in her stomach. When the music ended, the guests gladly applauded. This was a good thing, separating from him. She needed the distance. All of the closeness had aroused a physical attraction for her partner that’d not been there before; not just any partner…Jacob Trent…whom she would marry.

  The future passed before her eyes. She imagined sharing a bed with him and giving herself to him, which he’d promised she would not have to do.

  But what if she eventually wanted to give up her virtue to him? What if she began to feel this attraction all the time and not just ones like this? She was sure there would be moments. Although it was clear they would have separate chambers, she imagined lying in bed with him, snuggling against him. She certainly felt safe with him. Secure. But hadn’t she always felt safe? Hadn’t she always felt secure?

  It was late, and she planted a kiss on his cheek and departed with the excuse she was going to freshen up. Her steps led to the nearest gardens where she caught her breath. Perhaps she should’ve gone to the altar and prayed. She felt she needed to.

  “Are you well?”

  The voice came out of nowhere. Her gaze snapped toward the right and upward. In the light of the moon Marcus Wren sat atop the stone wall, one leg stretched before him, the knee of the other in the air. It appeared as if he’d been watching the scene from that location for some time.

  “I’ve startled you yet again.”

  “I had supposed I was alone.”

  “As in the garden at Harp,” he commented and then, “One thing you will quickly discover, Rachel the Elder, as Jacob’s companion you will never truly be alone.”

  “I have already discovered so,” she found herself replying. Not that someone was always in plain view. She simply knew they were there somewhere…near, far—keeping an eye out for her from one direction or another.

  “These gardens are commonly visited,” he began to say. “Once evening has set in, especially about the time of midnight,” he swung his legs around, pushed himself forward and jumped to his feet, “when the moon is bright and round, and everyone in their beds…lovers often meet here and give place to their passion one for another.”

  Zaria had already mentioned this. It was not quite the same having him do so.

  “You are much too forthright,” she commented.

  “I only revealed this in the case you were not aware, that you would not be caught off guard if by chance you were to stumble upon such a scene.”

  “It is well that you forewarn me although my handmaiden had already done so.”

  He took a slow step forward. “You did not answer my question.”

  “Am I under an obligation to answer you, Sir Marcus?”

  “I mean well in asking. I noticed you have broken your life-long fast tonight. Being unaccustomed to the effects of wine, you could possibly become ill.”

  “I am well,” she bluntly assured. She was not ill from the wine, no, but lightheaded and…well, somewhat tipsy.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Perhaps not entirely true. It had actually dawned on her how very fast things were happening…maybe too fast. But the utmost thing to consider was how truly content she was to be there, to take part in such events as this, to mingle with nobility and to be entertained, to sit by Jacob as his fiancé and dance with him—something felt so perfect about it all, yet at the same time so terribly wrong.

  “I simply needed a moment to myself,” she calmly replied adding, “alone.”

  “For the sake of my friend, I hope you are not entertaining thoughts of changing your mind.”

  “No,” she quickly answered. “I am not. Why would you think so?”

  “Then you miss your friends in Westerly,” he guessed.

  “They are forever in my heart, they and my sisters. I do miss them.”

  “Have you written them?” He asked, and she got the impression he already knew that she had. Every message, after all, was accounted for. It would be no small matter for him to know.

  “Today even,” she agreed, anyway.

  “I trust you have told them of this change of events.”

  “You inquire of too many things, Sir Marcus.”

  “I am a curious man.”

  “One needn’t express their every thought,” she reprimanded although with no brutish tone. “Some questions are best left unspoken.”

  “Such as news that can be hidden. Such as feelings that can be spared.”

  She caught the sarcasm in his voice…the insinuation that she was too ashamed to tell them the news. She straightened her shoulders and prepared to defend herself. “If feelings are to be spared it is theirs, not mine. There is a proper time and place for all things.”

  “I shall not argue that,” he plainly said but then asked, “Are you ashamed to tell them?”

  “You do not take instruction very well.”

  “To hear and follow instruction is my calling, milady.”

  “You are paid to do so,” she said, recalling Jacob’s description of his duties to the nobles. “This is a separate matter. But marriage is nothing to be ashamed of. Furthermore, these are subjects I am not comfortable discussing with you.”

  “Then I shall change the subject by saying what a remarkable impression you have made upon Jacob’s guests and the residents of this fine city. They approve of you.”

  “Yet you seem to disapprove. Tell me, Sir Marcus, do you perceive I have some underlying motive?”

  “Do you perceive that he has?”

  She was stumped for a time. Then she remembered the fact that he and Zaria had spoken a good while. Perhaps she had mentioned something along those lines.

  Neither of them gave or received answers to these questions. Marcus proceeded by saying, “They seem to have fallen in love with you already. You are not only praised for being good-natured, wise…a number of things, but for your beauty, especially.”

  Her initial response was to look away from him.

  “Again I must apologize for making you uneasy, milady. But surely you are acquainted with compliments. You should adapt to receiving them. Or have you been hidden from those as well in the small town of Westerly?”

  “I have hardly been hidden as many suppose,” she corrected. “It’s just a different sort of place. I will miss it very much and look forward to visiting when the opportunity comes.”

  “It will come at your request. My friend has fallen in love with you, even prior the meeting. Your wish will certainly be his command no matter the extent of it.”

  “You will be pleased to know I would not take advantage of him.”

  “That pleases me very much. As you surely know by now, Jacob is very dear to me.”

  “As you are to him. He trusts and speaks highly of you. I, however, find you unusual and unsuitably bold. You trouble me, even aside from this improper interrogation. Throughout the night I have noticed you peering at me on various occasions.”

  “Then you must have peered at me as well to have noticed.”

  “My maiden is quite intrigued by you. She brought you to my attention on numerous occasions.”

  “As she was by your side a great deal of the night it could be assumed I was watching her and not you.”

  “I assume you are still doing what you were at first instructed to do, spying on me as in the gardens at Harp. Tell me, have I done or said anything to prove that my intentions are anything other than what I claim?”

  “I am aware of the original proposal, and that you returned even after he had granted your request from years ago—even without an agreement to marry, rather even after you had declined. You have in a way proven yo
urself trustworthy…spotless from greed. Just as he has proven himself spiteless. I departed the Great City shortly after Harp, and just recently returned to find not only my friend is engaged to be wed, but that you have developed a fondness for him that does not appear to be based upon his status or possessions or his wealth.”

  “It is not an appearance at all but the way it truly is.”

  “Which,” he continued, “pleases him all the more—seeing how you returned after he had granted your request, anyway. The way this fell into place pleases him very much.”

  “Then you do not suspect me of any wrong.”

  “Is there any wrong to suspect?”

  “That I am using him for the sake of monetary gain, perhaps—or even worse if you have doubted my overall position as a Sacred Sister which I became at a very young age.”

  “I do not doubt that, no. Your name has not been hidden from the realms of the nobles, or even that of the emperor for that matter. Rachel the Elder has been mentioned throughout the years in conjunction with Westerly. So your prior position cannot be questioned. So then, milady, I find no wrong…unless of course your agreement to wed was based upon pity; a prospect that both he and I would frown upon.”

  “I didn’t pity him, no,” she assured. “Nor do I now. He could certainly win the heart of whomever he chooses. Had I declined he would have set his eyes upon another and certainly succeeded.”

  “There was no other.”

  “Even I find this difficult to comprehend. But if it’s so that you suspect me of no wrong, I think it rational that you disregard these inspections and cease these vain observations. If I perceive any wrong in myself, I will be the first to acknowledge so—even in the very presence of my fiancé or of my husband, whichever is the case at the time.”

  He eyed her for a moment, as if studying each and every word. A lazy grin eventually touched his lips and he said, “You are wise beyond your years, milady. As for your request, consider it honored.” After a short, intense stare and a slight bow, he walked by and left her alone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Marcus departed the Great City the following afternoon for a venture into Rowan where he was expected to deliver documents from the emperor concerning a trio of villains detained at Rowan Castle. He was swift to shift his thinking from the engagement of Jacob and Rachel, although for some reason he had a difficult time thinking of anything else. Once he’d mounted his steed, along with Byron, who occasionally accompanied him during such escapades as this, he disregarded the news of his dear friend’s wedding and, of course, Rachel the Elder.

  For the life of him he could not easily stop thinking about her.

  But once the journey to Rowan began, which was a seven hour one, he did well to shove it all from his mind. After all, the documents in his possession were not only important, but time sensitive as well. Byron was only aware of a portion of the cause of this mission. He was conscious of the fact that the scrolls being transferred were of value, otherwise he would not have been summoned to go along; but he knew nothing of their contents and Marcus preferred to keep it that way. Only Marcus knew, and the emperor, of course, who’d taken special care in ordering each one for each individual case of three specific detainees who were to be strictly supervised until arrangements could be made to have them transferred to the emperor’s palace where they would be reasonably questioned. It was probable they had information leading to a plot against Jacob.

  Yes, secret messages had been passed along, most written in codes that were nearly impossible to decipher. But those that had been decoded, if correctly so, insisted only one thing—Jacob’s life was in grave danger and had been for some time now.

  Marcus had first caught wind of this when the emperor called upon him to transfer some of his own prisoners to the Northern Isles where they were subsequently executed for various crimes. In an attempt to spare his life, one of the prisoners had made it known that he’d been asked to take part in a plot to kill Jacob, but he would not say the name of the man behind it, nor a specific reason, only dropped hints here and there by way of words and phrases that could not be understood except by decoding if, in fact, they were genuine to begin with.

  Marcus wished now he would’ve somehow spared the man’s life. He’d likely had all the answers needed. The emperor had eventually tired of his parables and rhymes. He’d refused to speak plainly and identify anyone in particular, even to death. Honestly, Marcus hadn’t really taken the man seriously, just as the emperor had not upon hearing of it. They’d suspected him of prolonging the sentence of his original crime, scheming in order to save his neck from the gallows. He had, after all, refused to mention anything exactly and probably never would’ve. He’d been given a space of one unsuccessful month to offer the information prior his execution. An exact month after that, an actual attempt had been made on Jacob’s life during a hunting expedition.

  Fortunately, Marcus had previously planted spies and guards at every angle, distancing them from Jacob so as he would not notice them. These were men he had hired and who were trained for such duties as this. The attempt had been successfully thwarted all thanks to his secret spies, messengers and guards. But those who would have carried out the deed would not express the name of whoever was behind it. Even under torture and to death they held their peace.

  Marcus had together with the emperor and a dozen of trustworthy men working for hire in regards to the situation eliminated several names from the list of prospective suspects; simple enemies, distant relatives, people who had reason to hate him…even down to a distant female cousin who bore a very deep hatred for him, and did not care to express it. Marcus had not truly completely eliminated her. She was no longer a citizen of New Ebony, but of Roark whose king bore a strong dislike not only for Jacob, but the emperor as well.

  Jacob hadn’t a clue, and would not if Marcus could help it. Even the emperor agreed it best he didn’t know. Not now. After all, Jacob would not be one to stand idle. He would interfere and possibly make matters worse.

  Marcus felt guilty from time to time. If someone was out to take his own life, would he not want to be made aware of it? Just the same, it could do more harm than good. Hopefully, maybe one, two or all of the three detainees in Rowan would have some answers. They’d been caught passing messages to one another, and then meeting in a village outside of Rowan to accomplish some mission against a noble whom was not mentioned. It was suspected they were a part of the plot, although the duke of Rowan insisted they’d planned to do away with him and nobody else, an act of revenge for some unmentioned incident from years back. Upon questioning, they’d supposedly denied this, but admitted to conspiring against another although under the instructions of someone else…someone whose name they refused to give. This was not an uncommon occurrence these days. Marcus meditated. It seemed Jacob was lucky to be alive.

  But it would be a while before these men could actually be transferred. He wanted to stay in Rowan a while and do some questioning of his own. But the emperor had already ordered against it. Sometimes Marcus disagreed with the man’s assessments. This was one of those times. Also a time he would likely go against the emperor’s orders and suffer his consequences if perchance it was made known he’d done so. Not that the emperor would be harsh. He appreciated him too much to inflict any severe punishment upon him.

  Aside from this situation, he’d planned to visit for a time, just for the sake of doing so. The duke of Rowan was a good friend of his and had hired him on several occasions to settle legal matters between himself and his siblings. Thanks to him, the matters had been resolved although he had to admit not entirely in the siblings’ favor. Yes, sometimes he just had to accomplish whatever was asked of him simply for high pay, favor, for the sake of his web of acquaintances which when weaved together made things work out perfectly not only for his own benefit but the benefit of New Ebony as a whole; which had been an utmost concern of his since the age of fifteen. Yes, he had earned the favor bestowed upon him, and h
is pay, which was often very hefty. These things combined would one day make him a noble, indeed, a rich one, highly esteemed and respected. Such was the desire of any average man. For some it was unattainable, for others, possible…but ignorance had yet to put any man in any high position. Inheritance caused many a man to succeed. Of course the emperor was well able to remove any incompetent man from his position. He was a wise ruler, but at times Marcus wished he would allow him to have the final say-so in particular cases, such as this questioning of the three in the custody of Duke Rowan.

  Riding along, he set his eyes upon some mountains off in the distance. As the ownership of land would put a sense of pride inside a man, it did him as well at the moment. The mountain was several hundred acres and promising. Very, very promising…nobody had a clue.

  He couldn’t even count the amount of land he owned by now, land that could someday be valuable not only as cities and towns and villages, but other things which he had set his mind upon also beginning many, many years ago…after the previous king of Roark had nearly succeeded in overthrowing the emperor and taking New Ebony as his own.

  For the time being, thousands of acreage prescribed to him laid desolate except for an occasional village that sprang up here and there. He had hired men to oversee such matters, but it was almost useless trying to keep people from settling where they may live free of rents. Such communities usually receded on their own due to lack of necessity. Nonetheless, he assumed one day he would use some of the land to establish places of his own: villages, cities, manors, a castle or even a palace. For now, he was delighted to do what he’d been doing since the age of fifteen.

  Hard to believe all that time had passed. So much had happened. A small exploit had turned into something bigger, and that into something even more enormous. He was content seeing to the affairs of the nobles and getting paid well to do it. Peace had to be kept amongst them. Few had risen up against the emperor over the years…their plots were successfully thwarted, and their titles taken from them. Some of these were imprisoned, some put to death—all depending upon the nature of their schemes.