Vidal wanted to lay hands on Llanelli, Rhoslyn’s and Pasgen’s Bright Court mother, and had sent watchers to discover her. Doubtless Vidal wished to use the mother to control the children. Piteka did not care about that, only that Vidal wanted her and would reward the finder. The watchers had found nothing, but by accident Piteka had discovered that Llanelli was working as a healer and living in the place Rhoslyn and Pasgen called the empty house.
Piteka’s only doubt was whether to take Llanelli prisoner at once and claim his reward immediately or wait until Chenga acted. Then, in the unlikely event that she was successful, he could claim part of her reward before he brought Llanelli to Vidal. He put the indecision aside and replied calmly to her threat.
“And so you will, so you will. I will not interfere. It will be no fault of mine if you cannot make a simple plan work.”
Chenga dug her nails into his arm. She could not attack him or leave him if she wanted to listen further to what those in Elizabeth’s party said because he had cast the listening spell. But he only laughed again at her fury, and they both followed, still hidden in the shadows.
The pillars did not encircle the area where the tables were set; that was open to the dancing floor with the serving tables between the pillars and the tables arranged for eating. After a brief consultation, Chenga and Piteka came out into the open. They did not approach Elizabeth’s party but settled well away from them.
The spell held, but the effort was wasted because the group was saying nothing that could forward their cause. Mostly Aleneil and Ilar were playfully arguing the pros and cons of mortals Underhill and the varied uses of magic with amused comments from both Denoriel and Elizabeth.
One subject of interest to Piteka did come up; the mortal with the blue star on his forehead was telling Rhoslyn about the elfhames he and his friends were trying to rid of evil. That was something Prince Vidal would be interested to hear. If the multitude of curses and small poisonous plagues were gone with only the Great Evil clinging there, El Dorado and Alhambra could be used by the Dark Sidhe again, Piteka was sure.
In his interest in the subject, Piteka forgot to watch the dancing while he listened and turned his head to look at the mortal with the blue star. Rhoslyn had been hanging almost breathlessly on his words, but she felt Piteka’s attention, turned to see who was watching them … and recognized him.
Her expression changed to such enmity that Piteka was startled. He had always thought of Rhoslyn as a shadow of Pasgen, unlikely to do much on her own, but here she was, having wormed her way right into the company of those Vidal wanted eliminated. Piteka could think of no reason for her looking daggers at him but that she had some plan of her own that she feared he would spoil or preempt.
He did not fear Rhoslyn—well, not much—but to be on the safe side, he seized Chenga’s hand and drew her to her feet. “Let us dance,” he said.
“Harry,” Rhoslyn said, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “There were a pair of Vidal’s favorite Dark Sidhe on the far side of the tables. When Piteka noticed I had seen him, he took Chenga onto the dancing floor.”
Harry promptly pushed away his nearly empty plate and got up. Aloud, he said, “I thought I saw Mwynwen go by alone, Denno. If I can catch up, I’ll ask her to join us. Will you come with me, Rhoslyn, and second the invitation?”
“Of course,” Rhoslyn said, and as they passed out of hearing, added, “I think Vidal’s servants joined the end of the second set of dancers. I will point them out to you and you can tell Prince Denoriel.”
Aleneil and Ilar looked after Harry and Rhoslyn. “If that is a reel the musicians are starting to play, they will never catch Mwynwen,” she said.
“Innocent,” Ilar remarked with a smile, putting his arm around Aleneil and pulling her to her feet. “I think your Harry just wants a little time alone with his Rhoslyn.”
“In a reel?” Aleneil asked, laughing as she yielded to his pull.
“Shall I show you how?” Ilar suggested, drawing her toward the dancing.
The mostly empty plates promptly disappeared, except for those of Elizabeth and Denoriel, who put his hand over them. Elizabeth looked toward the dancing couples, but Denoriel said, “Later,” in an odd, throaty purr.
His eyes were intent, his gaze slipping from her lips to the curve of the very top of her right breast, which had been bared when she pushed aside the sleeve/cloak to eat. Although his hands were still, Elizabeth could almost feel his fingers caressing the curve of her breast, her throat, running up her cheek. She felt a tide of heat rise up her neck and burn in her cheeks, and she looked down.
“Eat something, love,” he murmured.
Elizabeth opened her mouth … she was not sure for what purpose: to protest, to beg to dance, to say anything at all just to break the tension she felt—and Denno put a tidbit between her lips. Instinctively, not wanting to spit it out, Elizabeth began to chew and saw Denno watch her lips as she chewed and swallowed. Elizabeth stared at him as he offered another bite.
He might as well have been kissing her. Elizabeth began to tremble inside, but whether from fear or some other emotion she did not know. Denno held another bit toward her, but did not actually put it between her lips. She leaned forward to take it. The food was warm, moist, and delicious. She chewed that too, slowly, leaning even further forward, until their lips met.
The sensation of kissing and chewing was very strange. There was a pulse low in Elizabeth’s belly that beat in the same rhythm as her jaws. Her thighs and the private parts between them felt like the food, warm and moist. Then she swallowed.
With part of the table between them, their lips just barely met, and slipped apart, and met again. The sleeve/cloak no longer covered her shoulder and Denno’s hands slid over her bare skin. His hands were warm and hard-callused but as gentle as the kiss they still shared. Under his touch, Elizabeth’s skin tingled; smooth as was the silk of her undergarments, she could feel her nipples rubbing as they rose and thrust out. The sensation was unbearably exciting.
“Let us go home,” Elizabeth breathed.
Chapter 23
On the morning after Lord Denno’s visit, Elizabeth’s maidens were confronted by a new problem. The door to her private parlor would not open. They pushed and pulled, but the door was immovable, and one of them finally ran off to tell Mistress Ashley that Elizabeth’s door was locked. First Kat said it was impossible; Elizabeth never locked her outer door and rarely the inner one. However, she brought the key.
This was of no use. It would not turn to unlock the door, but turned readily to lock it. Kat could hear the tumblers of the lock fall into place. She unlocked the door again, and told Eleanor Fitzalan to hold the knob so that the latch would stay open. Then she pushed at the door. When it did not stir, she told Eleanor to continue holding the latch but to stand aside, and she put her shoulder to it. But it did not move a whit. Finally, growing frightened, she called aloud for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had stirred sleepily in her bed when the girls had first tried the door, but all she did was bury her face in Denno’s bare shoulder. That had been a ball to end all balls, she thought, even though she had done far less dancing than she expected. Nonetheless after some highly informative hours spent in Denno’s bed, she had complained about being deprived of dancing to Denno, leaning over him provocatively so that he lifted his head and kissed her pink nipples.
There would be other balls, he promised, pulling her down atop him, when they would dance every dance. His hands were busy on her body, and she only murmured that she liked this dance better as she straddled him and came down on him, and then became incapable of speaking at all.
After they had caught their breath, though, Denno had urged her to put on her nightdress. They had to return to the mortal world soon, he had said … and stopped to draw her to him and kiss her again. But then he pulled away, sighing that if he twisted time too much it would leave her exhausted and confused and make everyone worried about her.
She ha
d laughed and said she was already exhausted; however, weary and sated, she did not object to being taken back to Chelsea. Only when they arrived at the narrow Gate between the wardrobes in her dressing room, she clung to him. It was still dark, she whispered, and her bed would be so cold; he should come with her. He did not need much urging.
They tiptoed through the dressing room to the bedchamber and Denoriel shed his clothes and carried her with him to the bed. They cuddled together at first between the chilly sheets and then as they warmed, stretched out, still touching for comfort, for companionship … and fell asleep. It did not matter, Elizabeth told herself as she drifted off. Alana had not yet returned and until she did, the door would not open.
Elizabeth’s nuzzling on his shoulder when she heard her maidens at the door woke Denoriel. He gasped with shock when he realized he had fallen asleep in Elizabeth’s bed and there was now light behind the curtains. He looked at her, and she lifted her head and smiled.
“That was a—most remarkable ball,” she whispered.
“There will be many others,” he promised, equally low-voiced, as he began to slide out of the bed.
Elizabeth sat up abruptly. “But only with me!” she exclaimed, still softly but with an intensity like a shout.
Denoriel laughed silently. “You need not fear for that. You are … something very special. Fresh and new and with an appetite that is not worn out and jaded. Bess, my love, I have not been so drained out in … in … I cannot remember when if ever. I need no one but you.”
There had been a cessation of sound from outside the outer door while this soft exchange had taken place, but Denno was listening. He spelled his clothing on him, and cocked his head as he heard voices anew.
“I had better go.”
“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed and shook her head impatiently when she could see he was going to scold her for being incautious. “Alana—” she could not say the word bespelled and had to settle for “—did something to the door. They will never be able to open it.”
“And she is not here,” Denoriel said. He grinned briefly then shrugged. “I am glad she is having a good time, but she should have remembered that she had fixed the door.” Suddenly, he disappeared. “Let me see if I can sense her spell and undo it.”
Elizabeth was still wearing her nightdress and she padded into the parlor after him. Now she could hear the maidens’ voices as they greeted Kat. Then she heard the tumblers of the lock close and open. She bit her lip. If Denno could not undo the spell (she could think “spell” although not say it), they would have to break the door. Could they even do that if it was bespelled? Then she heard Kat crying her name.
“I’m here. I’m fine,” she called in reply. “I overslept. I don’t know why the door is stuck. Send someone for Dunstan and a couple of the guardsmen.”
Denoriel appeared suddenly and whispered in her ear, “I can’t do it, but I’m going Underhill and I’ll send an air spirit to find—ah, I just felt the Gate. There she is.”
On the words Aleneil, fully dressed in Tudor garments, came rushing into the parlor, looking quite distraught.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Never mind.” Elizabeth giggled. “I understand completely. “And then she blushed hotly as she realized what she had said. Aleneil did not seem to notice; she was looking at the door. She lifted a hand, and Elizabeth caught it. “No, not yet. Let the men come and push it. Then release it.”
That worked so well that Dunstan came staggering into the room when he pushed on the door, which had flown open. He averted his face hastily from Elizabeth in her bedgown and went out almost as fast as he had come in. Alana equally hastily drew Elizabeth with her back into the bedchamber. Kat followed them and Blanche came rushing in through the dressing room door.
“What did you do to the door?” Kat asked, looking quite cross.
“Nothing,” Elizabeth said, wide-eyed with sincerity. It was true enough. “I never touched it.”
“And I only closed it, Mistress Ashley. I didn’t slam it or anything.” Aleneil said. That was true too.
Kat frowned. “It is dangerous for Lady Elizabeth to be locked in her chamber with only one lady.”
“But Lady Elizabeth wasn’t locked in, madam,” Blanche put in. “Through the dressing room is my bedchamber and that has a door to the corridor.”
“That is even worse,” Kat said sharply. “Heaven knows what accusations could be made against you, Lady Elizabeth. I do not want that door locked again.”
“But it wasn’t locked,” Elizabeth said, as her head came through the shift Blanche had put on her. “You know it wasn’t. You couldn’t unlock it with the key, but it did lock and then unlock, and all the maids of honor saw you—”
“How do you know that?” Kat asked.
Elizabeth blinked, remembering that she had stood and listened while Denno worked on the spell just reveling in being near him, but she could not say that. A small wave of coldness passed over her as she reminded herself that she could never admit how sweet every moment with Denno was. As soon as she showed him more favor than she ever had or a single glance exposed her hunger for him, he would be torn away from her. He was male and she was no longer a child.
“Oh,” she said, looking at her clasped fingers, “I heard the key turn and turn again just as I came into the room.”
“By God’s sweet Grace, you stood there and listened to us struggling to open the door and never said a word?”
Desperately Elizabeth thrust all thought of Denno out of her mind. “Well, of course I didn’t,” she said indignantly. “I didn’t know who was there or for what purpose. I wondered when I heard the door lock, but when it unlocked I was all ready to run back into my bedchamber and scream for Blanche until you called out, Kat. I did answer you right away.”
Kat sighed deeply and shook her head. “So you did, love. So you did. I am sorry to be scolding. It was all no fault of yours, but if those girls caught a whiff of a locked door, doubtless the whole palace would know before time for a noon meal. They do not mean any harm; I think they love you well, but they do not think either.”
Elizabeth said she understood and that she would tell Queen Catherine what had happened and ask her to give an order to have the door examined. Kat approved heartily and Lady Alana said she would certainly tell the queen that it was she who had closed the door, not Elizabeth. By the time the conversation ended Elizabeth was fully dressed and ready to join the ladies in the parlor.
There Dunstan was kneeling on the floor, examining the edge of the door and the door frame quarter-inch by quarter-inch. He came and bowed to Elizabeth and then slightly to Kat.
“I’ve no idea, my lady,” he said. “I’ve been over the door and the door frame, top and bottom and both sides. There’s no stickiness, no roughness as if something was stuck and torn loose. The wood is smooth and sound, the lock is in perfect order.”
“Magic,” Elizabeth said, and laughed. “I would even believe it if there were any purpose to it.” Then she sighed. “I believe you, Dunstan, but I will have to tell Queen Catherine, and I’m certain she will also have someone look at the door. Please do not think I do not trust you, but if the tale came to her as gossip, she would doubtless wonder.”
“Know that, my lady. I just had a look to be sure that when you went out you wouldn’t find yourself locked out. I’ve opened and closed the door about twenty times, too, and had Gerrit slam it really hard. It still didn’t stick.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth smiled at Gerrit, who was waiting near the door, and told him he might go.
She asked Dunstan to wait while she wrote a note to Queen Catherine and asked to speak to her as soon as was convenient. When he left with the note all the girls burst into speech at once. They all marveled at how and why the door had stuck; they all commiserated with Elizabeth on the fright she must have had; virtually the whole discussion was repeated while servants brought breakfast and the meal was consumed.
Through it a
ll, Elizabeth did not once lose her temper, although sometimes her answers were slightly at random. Kat watched her with a slightly troubled frown and noted that seemingly for no reason at all her color rose and then, when her attention was demanded, subsided. The meal ended at last and Elizabeth sent Alice Finch for her Plato, since her tutor would arrive later in the morning. However, before she could open the book, one of the queen’s servants came with a message that Elizabeth would be welcome to Catherine at any time. Elizabeth almost jumped to her feet.
“I am sure,” Kat said soothingly, “that the queen will not assume any ill cause for the sticking door.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed, her color rising again as she remembered Denno lying naked beside her in her bed, “but I confess that I am glad Sir Thomas is away. He would likely make a merry jest of a locked door and what might be taking place behind it.”
Kat did not like the blush when Elizabeth mentioned Queen Catherine’s husband. “I think I will go with you and explain that the door was stuck, not locked.”
“And I,” Lady Alana put in, “to say that Lady Elizabeth never touched the door at all. I was the one who closed it.”
Elizabeth sighed. “In truth, likely we will never know why the door would not open, and I do not care. Perhaps Queen Catherine’s carpenters will discover the cause. If not and if it should happen again, I will have the door removed and replaced.”
Queen Catherine, however, made nothing of the tale. She agreed to dispatch her carpenter to look over the door, but only laughed when Kat apologized for putting unhealthy ideas into a young girl’s mind.
“Do you have unhealthy ideas, dear Elizabeth?” the queen asked.
Elizabeth clapped a hand to her lips as a giggle rose in her throat and then escaped. She had intended to look wide-eyed and innocently puzzled, but the giggle would not permit that escape.
By Slanderous Tongues Page 37