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I need to consult with you... Do you think Mr. Bennett should find something suspicious in Claire's belongings?
“Nothing?”
Ysabel blinked, then blinked again. She studied Roran with her dark eyes, thoroughly uncertain whether to believe him or not. Did he not want to ask her questions? On one hand, he had nothing to gain if he asked her questions, even if she decided to answer them truthfully. He looked young and untested. She knew very little about the traditions of the Winter’s Children, but she knew enough to know that though they treated each others as brothers, there was a system that categorizes each of them into ranks.
"I will tell you that Andor is not safe. Nowhere the King touches is safe for you. Not Horngul, not Mathlas to the west. Not even the slave bays to the south," he said, and lowering his voice he added, "Wherever the King has power, you're life is in danger. I can't leave this place, but you must go south. You must get to the Wastes and find the desert city."
“I have done nothing to offend your king. Why should I run away?” she said, frowning. Her business was in Horngul, as a hired sword. Elred, Symond, Cilia, and Gyles may be dead, but she still had a life waiting for her back in the capital, Bolavo. Adranus would be waiting for them, any of his men that he sent to the mountain pass. He would assume they all died if no one returned. She had no loyalty to Adranus except for the money that he steadily supplied his swords. The prospect of returning to Horngul was more appealing that a journey into the Wastes. Now that four of his closest friends were gone, only Adranus knew what she was really capable of doing.
Ysabel was about to say something more, but Roran silenced her with his hand. He seemed anxious about something, perhaps more anxious than she was. He clearly suspected that she healed his brother the night before, not by any normal means, but by magic. What else did he know? Much to her frustration, Adranus would not explain anything to her, telling her that the less she knew the better, that she would be safer if she only use her special talent when he told her to do so.
"I can't come with you, but I can show you the way," he finally said as he got to his feet and headed to the door. "I will walk you to the back gate, but i can't follow you out. I'm risking a lot letting you out, but I'm risking my life following you."
“Thank you,” was all she could say, but she did not move from her position on the bed. She needed to hear answers. Ysabel might not trust this man and the wisdom in his words, but she needed to hear why. “But please tell me why. Why do you say I should go into the Wastes? I need to hear why. All my life I have asked why, and nobody has given me answers.” Always just a caution not to use her talents unauthorized. She understood, even as a child, that she was different. When her parents learned about it, they sold her – for her safety and theirs, she was told.
Here was somebody who might actually talk. Before answers were demanded of her, before she lied through her teeth, she would demand answers herself. Ysabel got off the bed and walked to the door barefooted. She ignored the cold and stood in front of him. Her hand found his, the one on the latch of the door, then pulled the door closed through his hand. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked again, “Why do you say I should go to the Wastes?”
Ysabel blinked, then blinked again. She studied Roran with her dark eyes, thoroughly uncertain whether to believe him or not. Did he not want to ask her questions? On one hand, he had nothing to gain if he asked her questions, even if she decided to answer them truthfully. He looked young and untested. She knew very little about the traditions of the Winter’s Children, but she knew enough to know that though they treated each others as brothers, there was a system that categorizes each of them into ranks.
"I will tell you that Andor is not safe. Nowhere the King touches is safe for you. Not Horngul, not Mathlas to the west. Not even the slave bays to the south," he said, and lowering his voice he added, "Wherever the King has power, you're life is in danger. I can't leave this place, but you must go south. You must get to the Wastes and find the desert city."
“I have done nothing to offend your king. Why should I run away?” she said, frowning. Her business was in Horngul, as a hired sword. Elred, Symond, Cilia, and Gyles may be dead, but she still had a life waiting for her back in the capital, Bolavo. Adranus would be waiting for them, any of his men that he sent to the mountain pass. He would assume they all died if no one returned. She had no loyalty to Adranus except for the money that he steadily supplied his swords. The prospect of returning to Horngul was more appealing that a journey into the Wastes. Now that four of his closest friends were gone, only Adranus knew what she was really capable of doing.
Ysabel was about to say something more, but Roran silenced her with his hand. He seemed anxious about something, perhaps more anxious than she was. He clearly suspected that she healed his brother the night before, not by any normal means, but by magic. What else did he know? Much to her frustration, Adranus would not explain anything to her, telling her that the less she knew the better, that she would be safer if she only use her special talent when he told her to do so.
"I can't come with you, but I can show you the way," he finally said as he got to his feet and headed to the door. "I will walk you to the back gate, but i can't follow you out. I'm risking a lot letting you out, but I'm risking my life following you."
“Thank you,” was all she could say, but she did not move from her position on the bed. She needed to hear answers. Ysabel might not trust this man and the wisdom in his words, but she needed to hear why. “But please tell me why. Why do you say I should go into the Wastes? I need to hear why. All my life I have asked why, and nobody has given me answers.” Always just a caution not to use her talents unauthorized. She understood, even as a child, that she was different. When her parents learned about it, they sold her – for her safety and theirs, she was told.
Here was somebody who might actually talk. Before answers were demanded of her, before she lied through her teeth, she would demand answers herself. Ysabel got off the bed and walked to the door barefooted. She ignored the cold and stood in front of him. Her hand found his, the one on the latch of the door, then pulled the door closed through his hand. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked again, “Why do you say I should go to the Wastes?”
“I don’t think that’s possible tonight”
“I have never been more relieved to hear those words,” he confessed, catching his breath as he pulled back from her sweet, sweet lips.
Her hands moved to unbutton his jacket first. He let her do it, watching her fingers move from one round button to the other until all of it were undone and his black outerwear was pushed over his shoulders. Nick shrugged it off, helping her with his vest then the white long sleeved button-up shirt underneath.
Her fingers brushing lightly against the bare skin of his chest sent shivers through his body. Fingers from both his hands stumbled over the remaining buttons, his concentration broken. Nick retaliated by leaning forward and seeking her lips once more, but her hands were relentless in their exploration. As soon as the last of the buttons was released, though it was only after some moments of clumsy fumbling, Nick freed himself from his shirt. He did not dare check at his bandages, or cared that his wound hurt, Nick was just thankful that he could use both arms again. And with both his hands, he gathered the material of her chemise at the waist then pulled it up over her head, with her cooperation of course.
Then they were both lying on the bed, moving with the instincts of a man and a woman brought together by the holy matrimony. He remembered her telling him that all those stories about her were not true and he remembered doubting her words. Despite the tears shed that day, part of him had wanted to believe that the rumors were true, that Claire had committed adultery with another man, that the woman that was married to him was not as pure and perfect as she appeared to be. But that night, in a cheap inn, all his doubts were proved false.
Although he moved with utmost care and gentleness, if only to pretend he believed her, the surprise must be visible on his face when he finally claimed her. Nick paused, the pupils of his blue eyes were dilated as he stared at her face as if it was the first time he really saw her. She had never been with another man before him. All those things she told him were the truth.
He kissed her brow, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. Nick kissed her slowly as if she would break and when he pulled away to seek her eyes again, all his defenses were gone. “I’m sorry,” was all he managed to say.
For not believing. For the hurt he caused. For the hurt he would surely cause.
********
The music had long faded away, swallowed by the night. Nick guessed that the patrons of the tavern had mostly left or were too drunk to continue dancing and singing. However, the melody was stuck in his head. He hummed the tune as he played with Claire’s golden hair. Curled up beside him, with her head on his shoulder, he wasn’t sure if she was asleep yet. He himself was feeling the weight of his eyelids was almost too unbearable, but pain from his side kept bringing his consciousness back. He did see a blotch of fresh red blood on the bandage, which might have meant that he did way too much for someone who had a near death experience not too long ago. Nick refrained from reacting to it as to not make Claire panic.
A number of things happened that day that it was indeed a long one. And when they got back to their house in Kensington, what would be Mr. Bennett’s news for him? Did he find anything suspicious, a note perhaps that would compromise Claire’s innocence? Surely Claire had nothing to do with the murder of her friend’s husband. She was a lady of gentle upbringing, after all. Why would she be involved in a criminal offense, much more murder? Unless there was a reason – something she mentioned earlier that day under the tree before they went into an argument. She was siding with Hawthorne, stating that there might be a reason behind his traitorous actions. He would know soon enough.
“I have never been more relieved to hear those words,” he confessed, catching his breath as he pulled back from her sweet, sweet lips.
Her hands moved to unbutton his jacket first. He let her do it, watching her fingers move from one round button to the other until all of it were undone and his black outerwear was pushed over his shoulders. Nick shrugged it off, helping her with his vest then the white long sleeved button-up shirt underneath.
Her fingers brushing lightly against the bare skin of his chest sent shivers through his body. Fingers from both his hands stumbled over the remaining buttons, his concentration broken. Nick retaliated by leaning forward and seeking her lips once more, but her hands were relentless in their exploration. As soon as the last of the buttons was released, though it was only after some moments of clumsy fumbling, Nick freed himself from his shirt. He did not dare check at his bandages, or cared that his wound hurt, Nick was just thankful that he could use both arms again. And with both his hands, he gathered the material of her chemise at the waist then pulled it up over her head, with her cooperation of course.
Then they were both lying on the bed, moving with the instincts of a man and a woman brought together by the holy matrimony. He remembered her telling him that all those stories about her were not true and he remembered doubting her words. Despite the tears shed that day, part of him had wanted to believe that the rumors were true, that Claire had committed adultery with another man, that the woman that was married to him was not as pure and perfect as she appeared to be. But that night, in a cheap inn, all his doubts were proved false.
Although he moved with utmost care and gentleness, if only to pretend he believed her, the surprise must be visible on his face when he finally claimed her. Nick paused, the pupils of his blue eyes were dilated as he stared at her face as if it was the first time he really saw her. She had never been with another man before him. All those things she told him were the truth.
He kissed her brow, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. Nick kissed her slowly as if she would break and when he pulled away to seek her eyes again, all his defenses were gone. “I’m sorry,” was all he managed to say.
For not believing. For the hurt he caused. For the hurt he would surely cause.
********
The music had long faded away, swallowed by the night. Nick guessed that the patrons of the tavern had mostly left or were too drunk to continue dancing and singing. However, the melody was stuck in his head. He hummed the tune as he played with Claire’s golden hair. Curled up beside him, with her head on his shoulder, he wasn’t sure if she was asleep yet. He himself was feeling the weight of his eyelids was almost too unbearable, but pain from his side kept bringing his consciousness back. He did see a blotch of fresh red blood on the bandage, which might have meant that he did way too much for someone who had a near death experience not too long ago. Nick refrained from reacting to it as to not make Claire panic.
A number of things happened that day that it was indeed a long one. And when they got back to their house in Kensington, what would be Mr. Bennett’s news for him? Did he find anything suspicious, a note perhaps that would compromise Claire’s innocence? Surely Claire had nothing to do with the murder of her friend’s husband. She was a lady of gentle upbringing, after all. Why would she be involved in a criminal offense, much more murder? Unless there was a reason – something she mentioned earlier that day under the tree before they went into an argument. She was siding with Hawthorne, stating that there might be a reason behind his traitorous actions. He would know soon enough.
Even though they had stopped dancing, they stood there in the middle of their tiny room, close to each other with careless smiles playing on their lips. It had been quite some time since Nick had truly enjoyed dancing with a woman. Most of the time, he danced with partners he intended to seduce for information or for purposes dictated by his superiors.
“You dance beautifully. I have no doubt I’d be able to find you on the dance floor in no time at all, mask on or not,” she whispered. He was looking down at her face, smiling dreamily as she squeezed his hand.
“And you are so beautiful tonight, Ms. Cartwright,” he whispered back. “More beautiful, I believe, than the duke’s own daughter.”
”You know, with you going back to the states so soon, who knows how long you’ll be mine. Perhaps the only thing left for us to do is take advantage of this night we have alone in one another’s arms. Ah- if you think that battle wound of yours will allow it.”
And for the first time it seemed their minds were in perfect synchronization. His brows rose, thinking that he might have misheard or misunderstood what she had just said. “I don’t think it will bother us,” he lied, his voice dropping a notch.
“I would not label it as taking advantage of me, as you said earlier,” Claire reassured.
Nick nodded his agreement, stepping closer. “Certainly not,” he muttered.
”More like…living in the moment.”
His eyes were dark with hunger that no food could satisfy. He towered over her, one arm slipping around her back while his free hand was at her nape. “Of course, of course,” the gentleman murmured, although he was feeling less and less a gentleman as he claimed her soft lips and kissed her with urgency.
There was nothing wrong with what they were doing, he reasoned to himself. He was her husband and she was his wife. His response was the response a normal husband would have to his beautiful wife. And that night Claire was just the epitome of beauty. Her milky complexion was so smooth to the touch. Suddenly he wanted to touch her everywhere with his hands, then with his lips.
With much regret, Nick pulled away from her enough to look her in the eye and ask with all sincerity, “Are you sure about this?”
If she said no, he would find a way to clamp down the desire that stabbed him through the heart. He would honor her decision and tame the feeling she had roused. But even as she contemplated for an answer, he was nuzzling her neck and his hands worked their magic on the hooks and ribbons of her dress. “Tell me if I’ve gone too far,” he murmured into her collar bone as he pushed the sleeves of her dress down. But he didn’t promise he would stop. He probably could.
“You dance beautifully. I have no doubt I’d be able to find you on the dance floor in no time at all, mask on or not,” she whispered. He was looking down at her face, smiling dreamily as she squeezed his hand.
“And you are so beautiful tonight, Ms. Cartwright,” he whispered back. “More beautiful, I believe, than the duke’s own daughter.”
”You know, with you going back to the states so soon, who knows how long you’ll be mine. Perhaps the only thing left for us to do is take advantage of this night we have alone in one another’s arms. Ah- if you think that battle wound of yours will allow it.”
And for the first time it seemed their minds were in perfect synchronization. His brows rose, thinking that he might have misheard or misunderstood what she had just said. “I don’t think it will bother us,” he lied, his voice dropping a notch.
“I would not label it as taking advantage of me, as you said earlier,” Claire reassured.
Nick nodded his agreement, stepping closer. “Certainly not,” he muttered.
”More like…living in the moment.”
His eyes were dark with hunger that no food could satisfy. He towered over her, one arm slipping around her back while his free hand was at her nape. “Of course, of course,” the gentleman murmured, although he was feeling less and less a gentleman as he claimed her soft lips and kissed her with urgency.
There was nothing wrong with what they were doing, he reasoned to himself. He was her husband and she was his wife. His response was the response a normal husband would have to his beautiful wife. And that night Claire was just the epitome of beauty. Her milky complexion was so smooth to the touch. Suddenly he wanted to touch her everywhere with his hands, then with his lips.
With much regret, Nick pulled away from her enough to look her in the eye and ask with all sincerity, “Are you sure about this?”
If she said no, he would find a way to clamp down the desire that stabbed him through the heart. He would honor her decision and tame the feeling she had roused. But even as she contemplated for an answer, he was nuzzling her neck and his hands worked their magic on the hooks and ribbons of her dress. “Tell me if I’ve gone too far,” he murmured into her collar bone as he pushed the sleeves of her dress down. But he didn’t promise he would stop. He probably could.
“I should think not. The food will be here soon and that would be something I don’t want someone walking in on.”
“I won’t mind,” he shrugged, still thinking about what she said regarding the boys downstairs missing a whole lot, and that he had not yet seen her “in the nude.” Nick wasn’t sure whether or not he blushed, but for a few seconds, he was stunned. Words failed him and all his mental processes shut down to the point that he was fairly certain that his body’s involuntary functions ceased. Even his heart stopped. Images of her filled his mind, and then his heart started racing in his chest.
It didn’t help that she took him up on his offer and lay her head down on his chest. Some loose wisps of hair tickled his jaw. Her scent, now familiar to him, was something he would miss when it was all over. Nick allowed his head to rest on the bed and used his arm to pull her closer to him. Never mind that she was most definitely hearing that he was having palpitations, he wanted the woman close by. But it had nothing to do with love, he thought to himself as he listened to the tale she was weaving in her head – an insane idea to pretend to be someone else, not knowing that the man beside her was already living out her fantasy. It had nothing to do with love, because he had only known her a few days and it was impossible for him to fall for someone that fast. No, if he loved her, then he should be willing to give his life up for her, but he wasn’t. The ugly truth was, just like the middle class men downstairs, he was attracted to her – to the shell and not the woman living inside it.
All because she was undeniably beautiful, and with her lying so close to him, he had to have an iron grip on his self control for it not t slip.
Nick chuckled at the end of her idea, more from the enthusiasm in her voice than anything else. “What would we tell the police if I got caught?” his voice rumbled in his chest, carelessly lazy against the muffled noise from downstairs. He noticed that there was music played. Perhaps dancing had even started. “I must confess that I am not a good actor. Can I not just play a role of a fine gentleman? I’m certainly good at that.” He flashed her a charming smile, then his face became thoughtful. “Or a rake. I could possibly pass for a rake.”
A knock at the door disturbed them. Nick was about to get up, but since Claire was lying on him, she managed to move first and was instructing him to stay where he was. Curiously, he watched her approach the door, the tight clothing and the low cut of her back, covered only with lace was not helping either. Was she seducing him? Perhaps he had been without a woman companion for quite some time, that’s why he was starting to turn to the closest, most beautiful woman available. He watched her graceful movements as she placed their dinner on the table with the music playing downstairs entering through the door, then she approached him.
Obedient as he was, he stayed on the bed, though he propped himself against the pillows to observe her better. She climbed up the bed. He thought she’d straddle him, and that time, he did blush. Her green eyes stayed on him the whole time, alight with something he couldn’t tell. Their faces were only a few inches apart. The corners of her lips slightly tugged upwards. Then he felt her hand on his pocket, lightly, just like a thief. It emerged with a few coins and a triumphant grin lit her face.
Nicholas had to shake it off his head and he used the time she was talking to the person who delivered the food to do it. When she turned back to him, he was smiling sheepishly. The door closed and with it the waltz that had just started.
“Are you as hungry as I am?”
“Perhaps more,” he admitted. Nick swung his legs off the bed and walked to the table. He pulled her chair and offered her the seat before taking his place. The food looked good, at least good enough that it was presented prettily. Well, this was all their money could pay for, might as well enjoy it. At least the wine was good.
The music continued downstairs, sometimes accompanied with claps. It was like they were having a ball down there. Nick looked at Claire, sitting with her back straight and her manners intact even in a place like that. He made a show of wiping the corners of his mouth with the napkin, then pushed his chair back. Not minding that his side was hurting more, Nick extended a hand to her. “I seem to find it difficult to find a lady more beautiful than the one sitting in front of me,” he started, faking an American accent. It sounded horrible to his ears, but that was just how he wanted it to sound for her. “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?” He hummed in time with the music and the beat, his voice a rich baritone and in perfect tune. In case she refused, Nick grinned and pressed his luck more. “Come on, miss. My name is Samuel Blair and I am a soldier from the continent.” He moved with the beat until he was at the back of her chair, guided her to her feet then swept her into the small space in between the bed, the closet, and the wall. “My stay in England is short, but how fortunate am I to have met one so lovely?”
Nick was smiling as he twirled her around, humming and listening to the beat from below them. He led her through the steps, his ailment momentarily forgotten, they danced as if the eyes of the ton were on them. It was as if the room fell away and they were in the grand ballroom of Claire’s father’s house, dancing with the glorious music in the background. “And you, dear lady, what is your story?” He extended his arm and gently let her go, only to follow her and… And he was about to lift her up, but Nick paused with one foot ahead of the other, prepared to complete the dance. He laughed lightly. “I can’t possibly carry you right now,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.
“I won’t mind,” he shrugged, still thinking about what she said regarding the boys downstairs missing a whole lot, and that he had not yet seen her “in the nude.” Nick wasn’t sure whether or not he blushed, but for a few seconds, he was stunned. Words failed him and all his mental processes shut down to the point that he was fairly certain that his body’s involuntary functions ceased. Even his heart stopped. Images of her filled his mind, and then his heart started racing in his chest.
It didn’t help that she took him up on his offer and lay her head down on his chest. Some loose wisps of hair tickled his jaw. Her scent, now familiar to him, was something he would miss when it was all over. Nick allowed his head to rest on the bed and used his arm to pull her closer to him. Never mind that she was most definitely hearing that he was having palpitations, he wanted the woman close by. But it had nothing to do with love, he thought to himself as he listened to the tale she was weaving in her head – an insane idea to pretend to be someone else, not knowing that the man beside her was already living out her fantasy. It had nothing to do with love, because he had only known her a few days and it was impossible for him to fall for someone that fast. No, if he loved her, then he should be willing to give his life up for her, but he wasn’t. The ugly truth was, just like the middle class men downstairs, he was attracted to her – to the shell and not the woman living inside it.
All because she was undeniably beautiful, and with her lying so close to him, he had to have an iron grip on his self control for it not t slip.
Nick chuckled at the end of her idea, more from the enthusiasm in her voice than anything else. “What would we tell the police if I got caught?” his voice rumbled in his chest, carelessly lazy against the muffled noise from downstairs. He noticed that there was music played. Perhaps dancing had even started. “I must confess that I am not a good actor. Can I not just play a role of a fine gentleman? I’m certainly good at that.” He flashed her a charming smile, then his face became thoughtful. “Or a rake. I could possibly pass for a rake.”
A knock at the door disturbed them. Nick was about to get up, but since Claire was lying on him, she managed to move first and was instructing him to stay where he was. Curiously, he watched her approach the door, the tight clothing and the low cut of her back, covered only with lace was not helping either. Was she seducing him? Perhaps he had been without a woman companion for quite some time, that’s why he was starting to turn to the closest, most beautiful woman available. He watched her graceful movements as she placed their dinner on the table with the music playing downstairs entering through the door, then she approached him.
Obedient as he was, he stayed on the bed, though he propped himself against the pillows to observe her better. She climbed up the bed. He thought she’d straddle him, and that time, he did blush. Her green eyes stayed on him the whole time, alight with something he couldn’t tell. Their faces were only a few inches apart. The corners of her lips slightly tugged upwards. Then he felt her hand on his pocket, lightly, just like a thief. It emerged with a few coins and a triumphant grin lit her face.
Nicholas had to shake it off his head and he used the time she was talking to the person who delivered the food to do it. When she turned back to him, he was smiling sheepishly. The door closed and with it the waltz that had just started.
“Are you as hungry as I am?”
“Perhaps more,” he admitted. Nick swung his legs off the bed and walked to the table. He pulled her chair and offered her the seat before taking his place. The food looked good, at least good enough that it was presented prettily. Well, this was all their money could pay for, might as well enjoy it. At least the wine was good.
The music continued downstairs, sometimes accompanied with claps. It was like they were having a ball down there. Nick looked at Claire, sitting with her back straight and her manners intact even in a place like that. He made a show of wiping the corners of his mouth with the napkin, then pushed his chair back. Not minding that his side was hurting more, Nick extended a hand to her. “I seem to find it difficult to find a lady more beautiful than the one sitting in front of me,” he started, faking an American accent. It sounded horrible to his ears, but that was just how he wanted it to sound for her. “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?” He hummed in time with the music and the beat, his voice a rich baritone and in perfect tune. In case she refused, Nick grinned and pressed his luck more. “Come on, miss. My name is Samuel Blair and I am a soldier from the continent.” He moved with the beat until he was at the back of her chair, guided her to her feet then swept her into the small space in between the bed, the closet, and the wall. “My stay in England is short, but how fortunate am I to have met one so lovely?”
Nick was smiling as he twirled her around, humming and listening to the beat from below them. He led her through the steps, his ailment momentarily forgotten, they danced as if the eyes of the ton were on them. It was as if the room fell away and they were in the grand ballroom of Claire’s father’s house, dancing with the glorious music in the background. “And you, dear lady, what is your story?” He extended his arm and gently let her go, only to follow her and… And he was about to lift her up, but Nick paused with one foot ahead of the other, prepared to complete the dance. He laughed lightly. “I can’t possibly carry you right now,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.
The Bore Crown was a tavern along Thames Street, which happened to also offer rooms for travelers. It was among the suggested establishments by the coachman, but given more money to spend, he would quickly choose a different establishment – something befitting Claire’s status. Nick was worried about her and had reasons to doubt the sincerity of the enthusiasm that she was showing. Nevertheless, he indulged her.
Nick placed an arm around her shoulders when she requested to go with him to talk to the inn keeper. They were out of place because of the way they were dressed and he didn’t like the way some of the men were staring at his wife. Call him selfish, but he much enjoyed being stared at than watching others stare at his wife.
The crowd inside the dining hall of the tavern was loud, he wasn’t sure that she had ever been to a place like that. The good thing though, was nobody dared to call either of their attentions. A number of transactions were done all at once – business and personal – but above all that, the general population of the tavern was intent in getting themselves possessed by the spirit of ale. It was a good place to hear juicy gossips, especially after the alcohol did its job of lowering the inhibitions of the customers. Tempting as it was, Nick couldn’t just deposit his wife in their rented room and then spend the night mining information. She would most likely want to come with him just as she did when he fetched the keys. Besides, didn’t she say that their little tragedy was like a honeymoon away from home?
“Can we have food served in our room?” he quietly asked the innkeeper after the keys were given to them.
The young man behind the desk nodded. “Most certainly, sir.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a list of the food that was being served for the night. Ordinary food, nothing fancy. He ordered a course of fish, vegetables and bread, plus wine for the two of them, and hoped that the food was good.
Their room, he thought, was overly simple, but clean. There was a double bed, a dresser, and a vanity table. Its floor and walls were made of wood, two widows were at the far end of the room. It was clean, well illuminated, and functional. It would do for the night, but he wasn’t sure what Claire thought about it.
He closed the door behind him, after they both entered, shutting out the noise from the dining area. “This is the other side of England,” he said slowly, as if she wouldn’t understand that London was not all elegance and riches. She was a sheltered heir to a title and she wasn’t very aware about the real world. This was just a glimpse of the working class.
“I hope you like it so far, your majesty” he teased, bowing low at the waist, then wincing as the action stressed his wound. A smile tugged the corner of his lips even as he winced. “We’re lucky to find one not too far from the port. Not too many drunk either. I would encourage you to mingle with all the people if I wasn’t feeling greedy tonight.”
Nick moved to the bed and sat on its edge. “I didn’t like the way some of those men were looking at you,” he confessed. “Why don’t you try wearing something that covers significantly more of your skin? I will take you shopping for more conservative clothes. I’ll even pay for it.” He chuckled thinking how silly he was sounding. Would she think that he was being jealous? Was he being jealous?
He lay down on the bed, with his arms under his head and his legs dangling at the edge and waited for their food to arrive. “Come here,” he invited. “Sit with me. Don’t worry, I will not take advantage of you.”
Nick placed an arm around her shoulders when she requested to go with him to talk to the inn keeper. They were out of place because of the way they were dressed and he didn’t like the way some of the men were staring at his wife. Call him selfish, but he much enjoyed being stared at than watching others stare at his wife.
The crowd inside the dining hall of the tavern was loud, he wasn’t sure that she had ever been to a place like that. The good thing though, was nobody dared to call either of their attentions. A number of transactions were done all at once – business and personal – but above all that, the general population of the tavern was intent in getting themselves possessed by the spirit of ale. It was a good place to hear juicy gossips, especially after the alcohol did its job of lowering the inhibitions of the customers. Tempting as it was, Nick couldn’t just deposit his wife in their rented room and then spend the night mining information. She would most likely want to come with him just as she did when he fetched the keys. Besides, didn’t she say that their little tragedy was like a honeymoon away from home?
“Can we have food served in our room?” he quietly asked the innkeeper after the keys were given to them.
The young man behind the desk nodded. “Most certainly, sir.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a list of the food that was being served for the night. Ordinary food, nothing fancy. He ordered a course of fish, vegetables and bread, plus wine for the two of them, and hoped that the food was good.
Their room, he thought, was overly simple, but clean. There was a double bed, a dresser, and a vanity table. Its floor and walls were made of wood, two widows were at the far end of the room. It was clean, well illuminated, and functional. It would do for the night, but he wasn’t sure what Claire thought about it.
He closed the door behind him, after they both entered, shutting out the noise from the dining area. “This is the other side of England,” he said slowly, as if she wouldn’t understand that London was not all elegance and riches. She was a sheltered heir to a title and she wasn’t very aware about the real world. This was just a glimpse of the working class.
“I hope you like it so far, your majesty” he teased, bowing low at the waist, then wincing as the action stressed his wound. A smile tugged the corner of his lips even as he winced. “We’re lucky to find one not too far from the port. Not too many drunk either. I would encourage you to mingle with all the people if I wasn’t feeling greedy tonight.”
Nick moved to the bed and sat on its edge. “I didn’t like the way some of those men were looking at you,” he confessed. “Why don’t you try wearing something that covers significantly more of your skin? I will take you shopping for more conservative clothes. I’ll even pay for it.” He chuckled thinking how silly he was sounding. Would she think that he was being jealous? Was he being jealous?
He lay down on the bed, with his arms under his head and his legs dangling at the edge and waited for their food to arrive. “Come here,” he invited. “Sit with me. Don’t worry, I will not take advantage of you.”
Mirelda help her. It seemed to Ysabel, during the night in the mountain pass, that healing Rannor was such a brilliant idea. She thought that a charitable gesture would entitle her free pass to Andor, inclusive of few days accommodations courtesy of the Winter’s children. Then again, as the hours ticked by, Ysabel was more and more convinced that what she did the night before was just plain stupid. She should have just listened to the voice in her head reminding her not to be the hero.
The woman sat up on the narrow bed as her blonde visitor shut the door behind him. The bed was not uncomfortable, and the thick blanket provided her with little warmth, but she decided against surrendering to the temptation. Soon, the orphans would come for her and her answers. There was no point in faking unconsciousness, she might as well start studying her room and planning a possible escape route.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders even as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Her boots, she discovered, were removed by Derrin and were currently neatly placed at the side of the bed. She still wore layered clothing with visible tears on the arms and parallel gashes on her left side, where a warg sunk its claws. How could these people survive in that frozen wasteland? It was so cold she doubted she could fight without her teeth chattering or her punch shaking. Then again, she was not very good at hand-to-hand combats. She much preferred using the sword – a weapon that she realized she was missing. And what if the blonde had plans other than looking after her?
Her eyes narrowed at his visitor. She remembered some of the men calling him Roran. Fair coloring and average in height and build, he was not the perfect guard, but compared to her skinny arms, he ought to be effective. He looked uncertain even for somebody who had an advantage.
“What do they not know?” she asked back, inclining her head to one side, faking a puzzled look. Her voice sounded raw, perhaps another effect of the infection. Faking ignorance was her first line of defense, but she knew it would not hold under the pressure of interrogation.
Roran knew something, he was suspecting. Perhaps he saw through her lie and noticed what she had hoped she artfully concealed. Ysabel remembered him from the night before as the one who told her that she wasn’t safe. What did he know?
It didn’t matter for now, she decided. “What will you do to me?” she asked in a quiet voice at the same time her body shivered because of the chilly air. Her fists tightened on the blanket. Fear showed in her eyes, but she dared not to look away from Roran. “I mean no harm. I mean only to return to Horngul through the sea.” Which was the truth, but she allowed her voice to crack and her emotions show as she added, “I lost the people I consider as my family on the mountain pass. I cannot anymore make it back the way I came. I ask not your help, but that you allow me to be on my way.”
Yaska help her. She was trying to deceive another man. Not that she didn’t mean the words she said, it was that she was exploiting one of the known vulnerabilities of a man which was his ego. She would play the part as the weaker gender in distress and he can be the hero who will save her. In the real world, she hated when a man does that, but she lived with men long enough to understand that it was hard to resist showing off a man’s superiority.
((No problem :) I'm trying to respond faster. Maybe in my next reply.))
The woman sat up on the narrow bed as her blonde visitor shut the door behind him. The bed was not uncomfortable, and the thick blanket provided her with little warmth, but she decided against surrendering to the temptation. Soon, the orphans would come for her and her answers. There was no point in faking unconsciousness, she might as well start studying her room and planning a possible escape route.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders even as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Her boots, she discovered, were removed by Derrin and were currently neatly placed at the side of the bed. She still wore layered clothing with visible tears on the arms and parallel gashes on her left side, where a warg sunk its claws. How could these people survive in that frozen wasteland? It was so cold she doubted she could fight without her teeth chattering or her punch shaking. Then again, she was not very good at hand-to-hand combats. She much preferred using the sword – a weapon that she realized she was missing. And what if the blonde had plans other than looking after her?
Her eyes narrowed at his visitor. She remembered some of the men calling him Roran. Fair coloring and average in height and build, he was not the perfect guard, but compared to her skinny arms, he ought to be effective. He looked uncertain even for somebody who had an advantage.
“What do they not know?” she asked back, inclining her head to one side, faking a puzzled look. Her voice sounded raw, perhaps another effect of the infection. Faking ignorance was her first line of defense, but she knew it would not hold under the pressure of interrogation.
Roran knew something, he was suspecting. Perhaps he saw through her lie and noticed what she had hoped she artfully concealed. Ysabel remembered him from the night before as the one who told her that she wasn’t safe. What did he know?
It didn’t matter for now, she decided. “What will you do to me?” she asked in a quiet voice at the same time her body shivered because of the chilly air. Her fists tightened on the blanket. Fear showed in her eyes, but she dared not to look away from Roran. “I mean no harm. I mean only to return to Horngul through the sea.” Which was the truth, but she allowed her voice to crack and her emotions show as she added, “I lost the people I consider as my family on the mountain pass. I cannot anymore make it back the way I came. I ask not your help, but that you allow me to be on my way.”
Yaska help her. She was trying to deceive another man. Not that she didn’t mean the words she said, it was that she was exploiting one of the known vulnerabilities of a man which was his ego. She would play the part as the weaker gender in distress and he can be the hero who will save her. In the real world, she hated when a man does that, but she lived with men long enough to understand that it was hard to resist showing off a man’s superiority.
((No problem :) I'm trying to respond faster. Maybe in my next reply.))
Not having seen him for weeks now, Nick was glad that Professor White did honor his request to be shown around the observatory again. This time though, it was for the benefit of Claire. The older gentleman welcomed the couple with a wide accommodating smile and talked with Nicholas at length regarding theories and his latest studies.
Nick was worried that Claire might be feeling a little out of place considering the topics that he and the professor were engaged in, but she didn’t fail to surprise him whenever either of the men asked for her opinion. Claire was a very smart person. Some would think that her mind was wasted on a woman, but more and more Nick was being convinced that her intelligence was well placed.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the wedding,” he commented during a short pause in their discussion of the lenses of the telescope. “I couldn’t reschedule it another week later.”
The professor looked up from the papers he was browsing through, then glanced at Claire, who wasn’t even looking at him. “I’m sorry I missed the event of the season,” he chuckled. “I’ve been too busy with work I failed to realize that it was the daughter of a duke that you were marrying. Of course it was all over the society pages, but who has time for that?” he shrugged. The boys laughed the topic out then continued their discussions regarding other matters.
When finally Professor White had left the two of them to themselves, Nick sat beside Claire behind the biggest telescope the world had seen, and they talked about trivial topics. He had been fighting off fatigue, but after everything that happened that day, his whole body felt heavy. The gunshot wound at his side throbbed and he believed he missed on a few medications that the doctor emphasized should not be missed. He could already hear McQuerin complaining about Nick’s apparent stupidity.
“Nick, I’ve never seen such a beautiful view, but I believe we should get home. Your father will be worried and you should have been in bed hours ago. I’m getting anxious just sitting here with you.”
She was never more correct. “Just a few more minutes.”
”It makes you feel…small, doesn’t it?” He nodded, though perhaps she didn’t notice the gesture as she was engrossed watching the night sky. “Do you think we could have someone paint our bedroom ceiling just like this? It's a shame we don't see so many stars in London. Why do you think that is?“
“There is a difference between watching the real night sky and just watching a replica of it.,” he answered. “I don’t doubt we can hire an artist to paint our ceiling with stars, but I doubt he can get it right. That’s where the problem is. As for London, there are places where this is visible, but,” he gestured for her to follow him to the telescope. “It’s here where you can see it upclose.”
They spent about an hour watching the sky until Nick admitted to himself that he cannot anymore stand the abuse he was doing to himself. He leaned back and asked Claire to go home. He took the lead and guided her through the corridors and rooms of the observatory until they met with the Professor at the front desk.
“I was just about to check on you two,” he said cheerfully.
Nick straightened up and masked every sign of weakness, even in his voice. “Thank you for the tour and the free lecture, Professor White. Much as we would like to stay longer, we need to get back home.It has been a pleasure meeting you again.” He extended a gloved hand, which the older gentleman shook.
“It is always a pleasure to have an intellectual discussion with you, Nicholas. Do drop by one of my lectures, will you? I shall make sure that the drinks at the after event will be worth the boredom.” They both laughed. “And it’s such a wonderful pleasure finally meeting you, Mrs. Rochford,” the professor added. They made final farewells and then the couple was outside the building waiting for another carriage to hire.
It didn’t take long for them to commission one and as soon as he and Claire were alone inside, Nick let out a heavy sigh as he slumped on the seat. He didn’t bother showing Claire his weakness, but to the outside world, he had to always be firm. Still, he refused to voice it out loud. He refused to say anything at all, just leaned against her, closed his eyes and let her scent fill his senses.
***********
"What do you mean we cannot cross the river?"
"Exactly as it sounds, sir. You cannot cross the river tonight. We apologize and we are willing to reimburse your passes, but there is a technical problem with the ferry. We value our customers' safety, therefore the admin advises against further travels tonight. Again, we apologize, sir." The attendant was a middle-aged man with a slight foreign accent. He offered the money in exchange for the passes that Nick had bought that afternoon. "There are taverns and inns around the vicinity where you may choose to spend the night in. We will have gotten the issue straightened out by morning."
Defeated, Nick handed him over the passes and took the cash. He had not expected this, therefore he was not prepared, which meant they had limited funds at their disposal. He could deal with it, but he looked over his shoulder to where he left Claire to wait, and sighed. There was nothing else to do other than to swim the frigid waters to the other side.
He walked back to where Claire waited, but that time he couldn't just bring himself to greet her with a smile. Nick was tired, hungry and frustrated, yet he allowed himself to calm down before he spoke. "We have a problem," he confessed. "The boats are not sailing tonight. We may have to spend the night here. I know of some places, but... It may not be up to your tastes, so I apologize in advance."
Nick was worried that Claire might be feeling a little out of place considering the topics that he and the professor were engaged in, but she didn’t fail to surprise him whenever either of the men asked for her opinion. Claire was a very smart person. Some would think that her mind was wasted on a woman, but more and more Nick was being convinced that her intelligence was well placed.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the wedding,” he commented during a short pause in their discussion of the lenses of the telescope. “I couldn’t reschedule it another week later.”
The professor looked up from the papers he was browsing through, then glanced at Claire, who wasn’t even looking at him. “I’m sorry I missed the event of the season,” he chuckled. “I’ve been too busy with work I failed to realize that it was the daughter of a duke that you were marrying. Of course it was all over the society pages, but who has time for that?” he shrugged. The boys laughed the topic out then continued their discussions regarding other matters.
When finally Professor White had left the two of them to themselves, Nick sat beside Claire behind the biggest telescope the world had seen, and they talked about trivial topics. He had been fighting off fatigue, but after everything that happened that day, his whole body felt heavy. The gunshot wound at his side throbbed and he believed he missed on a few medications that the doctor emphasized should not be missed. He could already hear McQuerin complaining about Nick’s apparent stupidity.
“Nick, I’ve never seen such a beautiful view, but I believe we should get home. Your father will be worried and you should have been in bed hours ago. I’m getting anxious just sitting here with you.”
She was never more correct. “Just a few more minutes.”
”It makes you feel…small, doesn’t it?” He nodded, though perhaps she didn’t notice the gesture as she was engrossed watching the night sky. “Do you think we could have someone paint our bedroom ceiling just like this? It's a shame we don't see so many stars in London. Why do you think that is?“
“There is a difference between watching the real night sky and just watching a replica of it.,” he answered. “I don’t doubt we can hire an artist to paint our ceiling with stars, but I doubt he can get it right. That’s where the problem is. As for London, there are places where this is visible, but,” he gestured for her to follow him to the telescope. “It’s here where you can see it upclose.”
They spent about an hour watching the sky until Nick admitted to himself that he cannot anymore stand the abuse he was doing to himself. He leaned back and asked Claire to go home. He took the lead and guided her through the corridors and rooms of the observatory until they met with the Professor at the front desk.
“I was just about to check on you two,” he said cheerfully.
Nick straightened up and masked every sign of weakness, even in his voice. “Thank you for the tour and the free lecture, Professor White. Much as we would like to stay longer, we need to get back home.It has been a pleasure meeting you again.” He extended a gloved hand, which the older gentleman shook.
“It is always a pleasure to have an intellectual discussion with you, Nicholas. Do drop by one of my lectures, will you? I shall make sure that the drinks at the after event will be worth the boredom.” They both laughed. “And it’s such a wonderful pleasure finally meeting you, Mrs. Rochford,” the professor added. They made final farewells and then the couple was outside the building waiting for another carriage to hire.
It didn’t take long for them to commission one and as soon as he and Claire were alone inside, Nick let out a heavy sigh as he slumped on the seat. He didn’t bother showing Claire his weakness, but to the outside world, he had to always be firm. Still, he refused to voice it out loud. He refused to say anything at all, just leaned against her, closed his eyes and let her scent fill his senses.
***********
"What do you mean we cannot cross the river?"
"Exactly as it sounds, sir. You cannot cross the river tonight. We apologize and we are willing to reimburse your passes, but there is a technical problem with the ferry. We value our customers' safety, therefore the admin advises against further travels tonight. Again, we apologize, sir." The attendant was a middle-aged man with a slight foreign accent. He offered the money in exchange for the passes that Nick had bought that afternoon. "There are taverns and inns around the vicinity where you may choose to spend the night in. We will have gotten the issue straightened out by morning."
Defeated, Nick handed him over the passes and took the cash. He had not expected this, therefore he was not prepared, which meant they had limited funds at their disposal. He could deal with it, but he looked over his shoulder to where he left Claire to wait, and sighed. There was nothing else to do other than to swim the frigid waters to the other side.
He walked back to where Claire waited, but that time he couldn't just bring himself to greet her with a smile. Nick was tired, hungry and frustrated, yet he allowed himself to calm down before he spoke. "We have a problem," he confessed. "The boats are not sailing tonight. We may have to spend the night here. I know of some places, but... It may not be up to your tastes, so I apologize in advance."
Do you want to have them stranded at Greenwich? Maybe they missed the last trip back so they're on their own with limited funds. You may skip the Observatory part if you like
Do you think that maybe the plot has gotten boring? Maybe I shouldn't have dragged their date longer. You can fast forward to dinner or the ball or something if you like. But I thought it would be a nice twist if Claire's contact and Nick knows each other all along.
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