The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight

by Christina Courtenay

  When she’d been kissed to within an inch of her life, he stopped for a breather and buried his nose in her silky hair. ‘God, Tess, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I just didn’t know what to do …’

  She looked up and put her hand on his cheek, rasping through his stubble with a couple of fingernails, making him shiver. ‘It’s okay, wasn’t your fault.’ She stood on tiptoe and gave him another kiss, but then, to his intense frustration, she pushed him away. ‘Maybe this isn’t such a good idea right now? I mean with Shayla just arrived and everything …’

  ‘Yeah, she has seriously bad timing, my kid.’ He took one of her hands and plaited their fingers, not wanting to lose the contact between them entirely.

  ‘Well, perhaps she did us a favour. We did kind of go from naught to sixty in about three seconds flat. I … you seem to have a strange effect on me.’ Tess gave a shaky laugh and looked away, her cheeks turning slightly pink. ‘We should maybe take it a bit more slowly?’

  Josh almost groaned out loud. He wanted to turn her around and lift her onto a workbench, continuing where they’d left off just now, but he had told her she could dictate their pace and he had to stick to his word. It was torture, but he’d survive and hopefully when she did feel ready, it would be even more amazing. He swallowed a sigh and nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

  They heard voices outside and reluctantly he let her hand go. Damn it, were they never to get a moment’s peace?

  His daughter and Louis walked through the door. Louis smirked at them, so Josh gathered the boy had put two and two together, but he didn’t let on, just nudged Shayla and directed her attention to one of the pieces Tess was working on at the moment. ‘See? That’s the kind of thing my aunt does.’

  ‘This is so cool.’ Shayla had turned to Tess and the words seemed to have been dragged out of her almost against her will. For the first time since her arrival, her eyes were shining with something that looked like enthusiasm. ‘I love art. It’s the only thing I’m good at in school, but Mum said I should concentrate on other stuff too.’ She threw her dad a look, as if wanting to see his reaction to her words, but Josh kept a straight face. He was so not getting into that discussion. Not until he’d talked to Isla first, and at the moment she was refusing to take his calls. He’d gathered she was blaming him after all, despite what Shayla had told her. Well, tough. Nothing new there.

  ‘You can help me if you like?’ Tess offered, and Josh wanted to give her a massive bear hug when he saw the look of joy on Shayla’s face.

  ‘Really?’ Shayla glanced at him again. ‘But Dad said yesterday I had to help out in the garden, to “earn my keep”. Apparently you can’t just be a guest around here even when your dad owns a castle.’ She made a face that told him exactly what she thought of that.

  ‘If you help Tess, that’s the same thing,’ Josh said. ‘Fine with me.’

  Shayla smiled again, transforming her face from sulky teenager to pretty girl. Josh saw the startled look Louis threw her and almost smiled himself.

  ‘Ace,’ Shayla declared. ‘When can we start?’

  ‘How about right now?’ Tess turned to Josh. ‘We can maybe continue with the knot garden later? I really have to get these pieces of furniture finished first, sorry. But you said you needed help with lifting those heavy paving stones, right?’

  Josh caught on. In the knot garden they could at least be alone together. ‘Yeah, okay. Later’s good. Come and find me when you’re ready.’ He was looking forward to it already, even if all she wanted to do for now was kissing.

  ‘Is this the right colour for the stool?’ Shayla held up a pot of fuchsia-coloured paint with a look that said she was sure Tess would hate it.

  ‘Up to you. Use your artistic judgement. Whatever you think looks pretty.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  Tess hid a smile and picked up her own paintbrush, while daydreaming about Josh.

  ‘He’s already taken, you know.’

  Shayla’s voice cut into Tess’s thoughts. ‘What? Who?’ She frowned at the girl who was now smirking.

  ‘My dad. He’s got a girlfriend back home. Her name’s Pam and they’ve been together for years. Can’t keep their hands off each other.’ Shayla rolled her eyes. ‘But then, most of the women seem to like him. No idea why. I mean, he’s so old!’

  ‘You think?’ Tess tried not to show that the girl’s words were affecting her in any way. She might just be stirring it, but then again, Josh was extremely good-looking so of course he wouldn’t have lived like a monk.

  ‘I just thought I should warn you so you don’t fall for him. No point. I met Pam just the other week and she said he’d told her he’ll be home by the end of the summer.’ Shayla grinned and added in a whisper, ‘And he’ll be bringing a ring.’

  Tess dredged up a smile from somewhere and affected nonchalance. ‘How nice!’

  Shayla continued as if Tess hadn’t spoken. ‘Of course, Pam’ll be even more excited when she hears about this house. She’s going to love being the mistress here. Like you used to be?’

  She emphasised the words ‘used to’ and Tess gathered she’d been pumping Louis for information. Not that it mattered. It was the truth after all.

  ‘Well, she might be disappointed then,’ she replied. ‘He’s going to sell it and buy another sheep station. He just can’t keep away from the smelly beasts. Even helped our neighbour with the shearing. It’ll be lovely for you to visit him out in the country though, won’t it?’

  Shayla’s expression turned sulky. ‘Why would he want to do that? No sane person would swap a mansion for a bunch of sheep.’

  Tess smiled. ‘Who said he was sane? Now did you want to try another colour or are you happy with that one?’

  She felt she’d won that round, but inside she felt sick. Josh was just too handsome. How could she be sure he wasn’t toying with her? She didn’t really know him that well after all. Was he a player? The certainty she’d felt the previous day was fast evaporating.

  She decided to make an excuse not to meet him in the knot garden that afternoon as she needed time to think.

  Raglan Castle, 15th July 1646

  All through the hot month of July the siege continued – boring, relentless, claustrophobic. Arabella became used to the sharp smell of gunpowder, the stench of too many humans in one place; of horses, manure, leather and wood smoke. The clanging of smiths working at their anvils, the tooth-jarring sound of weapons being sharpened and the constant hiss and steam of cannonballs and shot being manufactured in moulds. The garrison was more or less self-sufficient militarily, as they had a mill within the defences which could produce up to three barrels of gunpowder a day, but at some point they would run out of shot. It was only a question of time.

  It was purgatory to look out over the surrounding fields, gardens and orchards, where fresh fruit and vegetables were growing just out of reach. Even the fishponds, with their bounty of carp, were inaccessible, and the daily diet became monotonous in the extreme. There was an air of tension throughout the castle. Everyone had heard the rumours of what had happened in other places to those who’d found themselves besieged and eventually defeated. There were tales of rape and murder, horror stories no one wanted to hear but everyone was whispering. It all added to the atmosphere of anxiety, apprehension and strain.

  The marquis continued to be defiant, even when a musket ball came through a window one day, bounced off a pillar and hit him on the side of the head.

  ‘Gave me quite a fright, I can tell you,’ Lady Margaret, who’d been present, said. ‘But my lord Worcester is made of sterner stuff. Just laughed it off.’

  Luckily he hadn’t been badly wounded. And with such a fearless leader, how could anyone else inside the castle be less than brave in their turn?

  Most of the women were listless, however, spending their time either sewing, looking after the wounded or trying to entertain fractious, bored children. Arabella preferred to deal with the injured as that kept her mind from dwelling too
much on what was going on around them. But halfway through the month, the sight she’d dreaded became reality. Rhys, being carried in on a stretcher, covered in blood.

  Her whole body began to shake as she hurried over, pretending she was just concerned over yet another casualty. ‘Can I help? How badly is he wounded?’

  Rhys opened his eyes, which were narrowed with pain but as sharp as usual, their clear mossy colour almost translucent. ‘It’s but a scratch,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  But Arabella didn’t believe him. ‘Put him over there,’ she directed the men carrying him. A straw mattress had just become free that morning when its occupant had died and she had put a clean sheet over it.

  ‘What happened?’ she whispered to one of the men who’d brought him in.

  ‘Another sally but things didn’t go our way.’ The man shook his head, his mouth in a tight line. ‘Major Price and some of the others were taken prisoner, while myself and the captain here only just escaped with our lives. A bad business.’ He and the other stretcher-bearer bowed to her and left.

  ‘Where are you hurt?’ she asked Rhys after they’d gone.

  ‘Shoulder. I swear, it’s nothing. Don’t look so worried, cariad,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll live.’

  She still didn’t dare believe him and the icy knot in her stomach refused to dissolve until she removed his shirt and started cleaning all the blood off him. As it turned out, he’d been right. He had a fairly deep cut, high up on his left arm, which had bled a lot, and a lump on his head which also needed her care, but once she’d washed both wounds and bound up his arm, she couldn’t find anything else wrong with him.

  He was sitting up, leaning against the wall as she tended him, his upper body naked. Arabella couldn’t resist glancing at his magnificent physique. Not that she had much to compare with, apart from other men she’d treated here, but he seemed to her quite perfect. His broad chest was well muscled, his stomach taut. There was a smattering of hair in between his pectorals, which continued down in a line towards his breeches. She had an unladylike urge to discover what this dark arrow pointed at and felt her cheeks heat up. Such thoughts were not seemly.

  As if he’d seen her looking, he took her hand under cover of her skirts. ‘Do you like what you see?’ he teased. ‘If we were but alone, I’d show you more.’

  ‘Rhys!’ Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire.

  He smiled. ‘Forgive me, but I’m wishing I had the right to be with you in my natural state, the way a husband can.’

  ‘Husband? You mean …?’ Arabella held her breath, waiting for his next words.

  He shook his head, his expression chagrined. ‘I would love for you to become my wife, sweetheart, but I can’t ask you. I have nothing to offer. All I own is a horse, my weapons, some clothes and a handful of coins. You’re an heiress, Arabella. You deserve better.’

  ‘To hell with that,’ Arabella hissed, startling herself with such blasphemy, although with all the profanity being shouted daily from the enemy camp, everyone was becoming inured to such words.

  He blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘Rhys, I’m not an heiress any more. Do you seriously think I’ll be given back my estate once this siege is over? My uncle Howell has it well and truly in his grasp and with the Parliamentarians as victors, the only way I’d ever be mistress of Merrick Court would be by marrying Glyn. I’d rather die. So if that’s the only thing holding you back … But perhaps there are other reasons?’

  She looked down, brushing away a stray tear that threatened to spill over. There was nothing she’d like more than to be Rhys’s wife, for richer for poorer. But if he didn’t want her enough …

  ‘Cariad, look at me!’ His insistent whisper made her turn back. ‘If that is truly how you feel? I can’t do this properly here, but imagine me on my knees right now, with a gold ring in one hand. Arabella, you are the only woman I will ever love – please will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  She felt a smile spread almost from ear to ear. ‘Yes,’ she whispered back, giggling at the absurdity of them doing this here, now, in hushed voices and surrounded by blood and gore. It didn’t matter. ‘I will, but let’s concentrate on healing you first and …’ She threw a glance over her shoulder at Mrs Watson, whose hawk eyes were roaming the room, and pretended to adjust Rhys’s bandage. ‘We’ll discuss it more later.’

  The smile he gave her in return made her legs feel so weak she wasn’t sure how she managed to carry the bowl of bloodied water out of the room. But despite everything that was going on around them, she wanted to dance and sing.

  She was going to marry Rhys.

  Chapter Thirty

  Merrick Court, 16th July 2016

  Tess was woken by the burglar alarm in the early hours of the morning and shot out of bed before she was fully conscious. The alarm had now been changed so she could have it on downstairs at night, which was great, but she hadn’t given any thought to what she would do if it went off.

  If the burglar hadn’t been scared away by the noise, there was nothing she could do. She had no weapon or anything else to threaten them with, apart from Vincent.

  ‘Vince!’ She shook her head, trying to make her brain work better. He was barking like mad and she ran to the door with him on her heels. ‘Come on, boy, you can bite whoever it is, right?’

  They raced down the stairs and Tess held her hands over her ears to muffle the horrible shrieking of the alarm. She didn’t want to turn it off until she was sure the intruder had gone. Louis appeared, just like last time, doing the same, closely followed by Shayla.

  ‘Jeez, that’s loud!’ he complained.

  ‘Is there a fire?’ Shayla shouted.

  ‘No, burglars,’ Louis called over his shoulder.

  ‘Shit!’

  Vincent didn’t go to the library this time but headed for the Victorian drawing room, a very formal room that was only ever used for special occasions. Apart from all the huge Gothic windows, it had double French doors leading onto a terrace and as soon as she turned the lights on, Tess could see that a pane of glass had been skilfully cut out of the left-hand door allowing the intruder to just open it from the inside. Nothing else had been disturbed though as far as she could make out.

  ‘Looks like whoever it was got scared when the alarm started up. Good.’ Tess walked around, checking the room. ‘I can’t see that anything’s been touched, can you?’

  ‘Nope.’ Louis was right behind her, which was comforting.

  Tess sat down on one of the silk brocade-covered chairs, a bit wary of its spindly legs, while Shayla wandered around looking at all the knick-knacks dotted around the room. ‘So he’s not giving up then,’ Tess commented, leaning her head in her hands. ‘Damn it all!’

  ‘Bastard,’ Louis muttered while continuing to pace the room. ‘You’ve got to call the police this time. The window’s broken.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’ll do it in the morning.’

  ‘Are you going to turn that off?’ Louis waved a hand to indicate the still blaring alarm. ‘It’s doing my head in.’

  ‘Yes, sorry.’ Tess went and found the panel and stopped the noise. A blessed silence fell on the house, but it felt oppressive somehow. She found herself listening for any sounds that shouldn’t be there, like footsteps or breathing …

  ‘You know who did this?’ Shayla had come over and looked at Tess, frowning.

  ‘I think so. It’s someone who’s trying to scare me into giving them a lot of money.’

  ‘Why?’

  Tess almost sighed. The girl was persistent, but then again, she would have been curious too if she’d been her. ‘It’s a long story, but it’s someone to whom my late husband owed a huge sum.’

  Shayla nodded, as if absorbing this. ‘Hadn’t you better give it to him then?’

  ‘I wish I could, but I don’t have anywhere near enough.’

  ‘And the douche won’t believe her,’ Louis added, clenching his fists.


  Tess shivered. It certainly didn’t look like it. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Four-ish.’ Louis yawned. ‘I’m going back to bed. I don’t think they’ll come back but you could always leave Vince down here for the rest of the night?’

  Tess shook her head. She was keeping the dog right next to her as he made her feel safe. ‘I’ll just reset the alarm.’

  Returning to her room, she locked her door for good measure. When she turned around, she noticed a shadowy shape over by the window and jumped. ‘You again!’ she breathed, her heartbeat kicking up a notch.

  She glanced at Vince, who was staring intently at the shadow, his ears alert. He emitted a low rumbling growl, but it was half-hearted and soon he gave it up and headed for his bed. Tess gathered he didn’t consider the apparition a threat, which was reassuring.

  Its shape was rather indistinct this time, as if it didn’t have the energy to quite materialise. Perhaps producing a human form took it out of him? Tess was surprised to find she wasn’t scared, merely curious. There was also that strange feeling of safety, as if she was being watched over, protected. She walked slowly towards the window and the shadow disappeared.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, then felt silly for talking to someone who wasn’t there. At least, not really.

  She had the feeling the ghost had come expressly to show her she wasn’t alone. It seemed crazy, but why else would he have shown himself now of all times?

  Bristol, 16th July 2016

  ‘You didn’t even go inside? What the bloody hell do you think I’m paying you for?’

  Marcus glared at Archie. Maybe it was time to retire the guy? He was obviously turning into a wuss of epic proportions – not a good trait for someone in his line of business.

  ‘I couldn’t, could I?’ Archie was scowling, clenching and unclenching his big fists in agitation. ‘The rich bitch’d had a burglar alarm installed. Made one hell of a racket the minute I stuck my hand inside. There were probably cameras and all. I wasn’t going to take any chances as I figured you wouldn’t want me on film. Hadn’t brought me balaclava, had I?’