Eternally Bound (Thistles & Roses) (9 page)

He gritted his teeth. Lady Maxwell was a poison he liked all too much.

“You may have won the first round,” Devon said, sidling up to him, “but be assured, I will be the victor.”

Sebastien suppressed the urge to punch Lord Devon in the face and instead, keeping his face plain and his voice rather bored, said, “What in bloody hell are you talking about now?”

“The lady.”

“’Tis always a lady with you, Devon. Rest assured, there is no contest between the two of us.” For there wasn’t. Sebastien would
not
lose.

Devon snickered. “Oh, but I think there is.”

Chapter Ten

WARM sunlight filtered through Max’s shared bedchamber window at Richmond Palace. She stretched, rolling onto her side. Mary and Elizabeth Talbot still snored softly in their beds, as Mistress Hyde had not yet come to wake them.

Her last thought upon falling asleep was the same as when she woke—Sebastien. She frowned, looking at the rainbow of colors coming through the diamond-paned glass window.

She wiped at her eyes and then rubbed her temples. Why could she not get the dastardly man out of her mind? She smiled. Their first encounter might have been of him thieving, but even still, she was disturbed by the fact that she trusted him.

Try as she might, Sebastien de Rayne had captured her attention the moment she’d viewed his feet beneath the curtain in her father’s study. Even though she’d told him he was the last person she’d ever want to marry, the truth was startlingly to the contrary.

Max threw back her blankets and swung her feet over the side of the bed. With that realization, sleep would not return to her, and it would not be long before Mistress Hyde banged on the door and told them to rise. The queen liked her attendants to be present when she rose.

After making use of the privy, she splashed water on her face and undid the plait in her hair, brushing out the waves. A rather heavy knock came at the door, which was then opened by Mistress Hyde. She was surprised to see that Max was already awake.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hyde,” Max said.

“You’ve risen early.”

Max nodded and worked to twist her hair into a knot.

“Might it have to do with thoughts of a new beau?” Mistress Hyde raised a skeptical brow.

“Beau?” Max played innocent. She didn’t want to name what Sebastien was to her. He wasn’t her beau—at least that was what she tried to convince herself.

“Lord Bedford,” Mistress Hyde said. “Be careful, for the queen does not like when her ladies act immorally.”

“I would never,” Max said, trying to quell the flutter in her belly at someone having noticed their flirtations.

Mistress Hyde pursed her lips as though she wasn’t so certain. Max bit her cheek against a tart retort. The mother of maids roused Mary and Elizabeth and then, thankfully, left them to prepare for attending the queen.

Despite Mistress Hyde’s warning and Max’s own reservations, when the ladies’ maids arrived to dress them for the day, she couldn’t help taking extra care with her gown and hair. Truth be told, she liked the approving glances and veiled desire she’d seen in Sebastien’s gaze.

Max wasn’t sure what was more scary—the fact that she cared what he thought, or the fact that her heart was already pounding.

The Lord Chamberlain’s Men had arrived and all of court was abuzz with the excitement of the play they’d debut for the queen. William Shakespeare himself walked across the stage that had been built for this occasion and pointed out where changes were to be made.

Sebastien had felt comfortable leaving his house only after making certain his mother’s attendants did not leave her side and the doctor had given her another sleeping draught. When he’d returned late the previous night, Mother had been in a deep sleep, and the servants reported that she had not made any other attempts on her life and had, in fact, spoken with excitement that Sebastien would be soon returning her ring.

Now, Sebastien waited, rather impatiently, for the queen and her ladies to make their appearance. He’d spent half the night trying to think of ways he could woo Max. She was an intelligent and cunning woman. She’d likely see through any frivolous flirtations. Sebastien would have to dig deeper than that. He’d have to strike at her heart, lay claim to her mind.

He’d known at once what gift he’d bring her today. The book of Latin practically burned a hole through his coat.

Finally, the queen and her ladies were announced, sweeping into the hall with all the elegance and beauty they embodied, but Sebastien only had eyes for one of them.
Maxwell
.

Her skin was all peaches and cream, her gown a very light blue that complemented the color of her eyes. When her gaze fell on him, she swept her lashes toward the floor, but he’d caught the look of pleasure on her face. She was pleased to see him, just as he was pleased to see her.

Sebastien lowered himself into a bow, as the rest of the courtiers did. Once the queen had taken hold of the arm of Cecil, who led her in the procession to the garden where the company had set up for their production, Sebastien went to Maxwell’s side, but Devon beat him there.

“My lady,” Sebastien said, giving Lord Devon a reproving glance.

She lowered into a pretty curtsy, her smile radiant and tugging at something deep in his chest. When she held out her hand, he took it, kissing her knuckles and breathing in the slightly floral scent that always seemed to surround her.

“Good day, Lord Devon,” she said, dismissing the earl and giving all of her attention to Sebastien.

Devon’s face grew red with anger, but he quickly turned his attention from her to Mary and Elizabeth Talbot. Seemed there wouldn’t be as much of a fight as Devon had let on. Maxwell had easily squashed his intent. Warm satisfaction spread through Sebastien’s limbs. The lady had no idea how much she pleased him.

“Lord Bedford, I confess I wasn’t convinced you’d be here today,” she said.

“And why is that?”

She cast him a teasing grin. “Because I was certain you’d be at Thornton House searching for the treasury in an attempt to reclaim your precious relics.”

The idea had merit, but then he wouldn’t have been able to complete his duty to the queen—and, more disturbingly, to himself.

“I brought you a gift, my lady,” he said, patting the place in his coat where the book sat.

“Another gift?”

“Another?”

“Was not the flower you pilfered last night your first offering? Did you steal this gift, too?”

Sebastien stared at her lips, enjoying the soft lilt of her voice and the fiery spark that glinted in her eyes. There was so much more to Lady Maxwell Thornton than he’d given her credit for. He might add fascinating to her list of other appealing qualities. The fact that she felt comfortable enough to tease him was a telling sign that he was well on his way to gaining her approval.

“This one does belong to another, but it just so happens that it is mine and that I’m giving it to you.”

She raised a brow. “Was it yours before you gave it to me, or did you have to steal it away from someone who stole it from you?”

Shock registered. Did she realize her father had stolen the relics? He had not specifically told her that bit of information.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

Sebastien realized too late that he’d let his guard down, his emotions showing clearly on his face. He shook his head. “’Tis nothing.”

“’Tis not nothing. If we are to be friends, which I believe we are, as you are the only person at court I can wholly tolerate, then you can confide in me. I’ll not tell another soul.”

“I am not the thief, Maxwell,” he whispered, not realizing until it was too late that he’d used her Christian name. “Let us leave it at that.”

A blush covered her high cheekbones and her kissable lips had curved into an O. “How can we leave it at that? Has someone stolen something…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. Dawning understanding had shown in her eyes.

They reached the gardens, their feet sinking into the grass as they approached the chairs that had been set up. Jesters did cartwheels, teased courtiers and juggled balls.

“I cannot believe you,” she said.

“I will not ask you to.” Surprise tugged at him again. He damned well wanted her to believe him, but he knew asking her to think the worst about her own father was requesting too much. And yet it still stung.

They took their seats. Silence reigned thick between them and Sebastien hated it. He didn’t want her to despise him for the truth he’d uttered. He wanted to reach down and grip her hand in his, but that would not be appropriate.

Instead, he tried to work up the nerve to say something charming, to bring back that teasing glint to her eye and her enchanting smile. In the end, he didn’t have to.

“I have… often wondered,” she whispered so quietly he barely heard her. “A daughter is kept quite in the dark. Any female is told what to do at all times by a male. Their father. Their husband. Their brother. Queen Elizabeth has been an idol of mine since I can remember, because she chooses to live her life the way she wants. I suppose I’ve always wanted something like that for myself.” She flicked her gaze up to him. “The relics will be mine. There is no marriage contract, but when it’s written, for whomever it is I marry, Sebastien, I will see it recorded that the relics are mine to do with as I please. And I will give them to you.”

Sebastien remained quiet, too stunned to speak.

She was giving him an out. He no longer had to court her, because no matter what, or whom she married, she was going to put her foot down regarding the relics and then pass them on to him. He could have asked her for her word. Could have demanded she even put in writing such a generous gift so he could obtain his relics if she changed her mind. But he didn’t want to.

Because despite the fact that he’d started his quest to regain the relics for his mother, he, in fact, enjoyed his time with Max. The only prize he saw at the end of the day was Max as his wife. And it had taken until this moment, when she gave him what he thought he wanted while denying what he truly wanted—
her
—for him to realize it.

Sebastien cleared his throat, which felt suddenly constricted. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the book of Latin. He pressed it into her lap.

“Truth be told, my lady, I’d much rather continue the hunt.”

And he meant it—pursuing her. Chasing a dream that was just beyond his reach.

The slight widening of her eyes showed him she knew what he meant.

“Seb—Lord Bedford.” Her hand covered the book and a delighted squeal left her lips. “Thank you!”

“’Twas mine. And now yours. I labored over Latin with my tutors and you’ll see my notes inside, along with many drawings for which I received a lash on the knuckles. You said you were trying to decipher the few words you could read on the sword and I couldn’t help giving you something that would aid your quest.”

When she glanced up, tears glistened in her eyes. “No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift.”

“A lady as charming as you deserves many thoughtful gifts.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Thank you so very much. I don’t even want to stay for the play.” She pivoted in her seat to glance around the garden. “Do you think I’ll be noticed if I leave?”

Sebastien let out a hearty laugh. “Most certainly. The legend can wait, but Master Shakespeare and the queen’s pleasure are another matter.”

And so was hers, because Sebastien was certain that Maxwell would adore the afternoon’s entertainment, just as much as he would enjoy watching her and admiring her every move and delight.

The curtain opened to the erected stage, and the backdrop, a landscape of a royal kingdom, far from this one, came to life.

Chapter Eleven

“DID you steal the Theodosia relics, Father?”

Max cornered her father in the courtyard before he could leave Richmond Palace for the night. Three days had passed since Sebastien had hinted that might be the case. It had been a whirlwind of courtly entertainments and games, and she’d scarcely had a chance to breathe. All during that time, her father had been having meetings with Sir Walter Raleigh about an expedition they would be doing together, and he’d not made time to see her. In all honesty, she was certain he was avoiding her.

Even when they’d resided under the same roof, he’d kept mostly to himself.

The sun had set and shadows from the torches lit about the courtyard spread over his features. An evening spring breeze blew a chill over her and she rubbed at her arms.

“I’ll remind you whom you’re speaking to,” he said, the threat not veiled but out in the open for her to hear.

Ignoring his ire, Max plunged ahead. “I have to know.”

“I’m not a thief.” Despite the severity of his tone, she believed him.

“I’m sorry, Father.” She wrung her hands in front of her.

“What makes you think I would steal them? Is it Bedford? Did he tell you that?”

She shook her head. “No, Father.”

“Then why would you accuse me of the crime?”

“I did not accuse you, merely questioned.”

“Your questions will get you into trouble. ’Haps I should take you home with me. If you deign to question me, what’s to say you do not question the queen? For your safety, I should take you back to the country.”

A week ago, she might have agreed, just so she could have the freedom of not having to meet his demands, since he’d likely return to London after escorting her to the country. But now that she’d had a taste of court, a taste of the excitement that was Sebastien de Rayne, her thoughts and ideas about life had drastically changed.

“No, please, Father. I meant nothing by it.”

“Then I never want to hear such talk again.”

“A boon, then, please, for my own peace of mind.”

Her father let out a growl. “Be quick about it.”

“Where did the relics come from?”

She’d deciphered the meaning of the legend, a love story that struck deep in her heart and moved her with a passion she’d not known she could feel.

“The sword was part of your mother’s dowry—came from Scotland. The ring was given to me by Lord Bedford’s father before he died.”

“A gift?” She glanced down at the gravel around her toes.

“A favor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The old man was delusional. He said he knew I collected relics, that I had the Gladius. He gave me the ring, telling me it belonged with the sword, and that the items had belonged to his ancestors.” Her father sighed, guilt marring his features. “He believed the items would be well cared for in my hands. Since I’ve a holding near Hadrian’s Wall, he wanted me to bury them there at the Chapel—Milecastle 9 for some odd reason. Said they are cursed and that they should be returned whence they came. Buried together. Ancient Roman rubbish.”

But it wasn’t rubbish to her, it was mesmerizing. “Why haven’t you done it? Why would you give them away?”

“They are too valuable to bury in the dirt. And I’m not giving them away.”

“But you are. As part of my dowry. How can you guess they’ll be in safe hands with my future husband?”

He shrugged. “I can’t. But what I do know is, they will fetch a bit of coin for your future husband. Coin I cannot add to your dowry.”

“Why would you not sell them to Lord Bedford, then?”

He ground his teeth. “Because I promised his father I wouldn’t.”

“The man made you promise not to return them to the de Rayne family?”

“Aye.”

She lowered her voice and crossed her arms over her chest. “And what if Lord Bedford is the man I wish to marry?”

“Then you’ll both be doomed anyway.”

“What?”

He shrugged and then laughed. “At least, that’s what his father claimed. Now, enough nonsense. Is the earl truly your choice?”

Max mimicked her father’s shrug. “I do not know.”

“Well, you’ve only one more day to decide.”

“I know.”

“I’ll bring the contract I’ve prepared when I return to court tomorrow.”

Max nodded, pressing her lips together to keep her teeth from chattering. A chill had taken hold of her that had nothing to do with the breeze. She watched her father approach the groom who held his horse and she didn’t turn around until long after his shadow disappeared.

When she did turn, Sebastien leaned against the archway of the castle doors. She couldn’t hide her surprise, nor could she take her gaze off of him. He was broad of shoulder and she took a moment to admire the raw power he exuded, not only in physique but in mannerisms. How long had he been there? Had her father seen him?

He slowly approached her and she waited, chewing her lip until the crunch of gravel ended and he stopped a foot away.

“Lady Maxwell, you look ravishing this evening.”

She was grateful for the dark as heat flooded her face. “Thank you, my lord.”

“When we’re alone, you can call me Sebastien.”

“We are hardly alone. There is always someone about.” God’s bones, but she craved to be alone with him. To banter with him, to play games with him. A glance around the courtyard showed they were indeed lacking in company.

He tugged her hands into his and a jolt of awareness spread through her. To be alone with him and have him touch her…
Kiss
her.

“You’re cold, my lady,” he said. Then he scanned over her shoulder to where her father had ridden through the gate. “You shouldn’t be out here without an attendant. Or a cloak.”

The chill she’d felt while speaking to her father slowly ebbed through her fingers, replaced by the warmth of Sebastien’s presence. She stepped a little closer, wanting more, yet knowing how vastly inappropriate it was. Her father would thrash her if he were to turn around and see.

“I had to speak to him.” Should she confess what he’d told her?

“And all is well?” His voice was gruff.

She nodded slowly, observing the way his lips pressed into a flat line and his gaze bore into hers.

She flicked her gaze behind him, more afraid that he might have heard her talk about marriage to her father than anything else. She wanted to tell him what her father said about the relics. Would he believe that his father had given them away? “How long were you there?”

“Long enough.”

That was not telling at all. As close as she thought they’d become, perhaps it was only a figment of her imagination. Max tried to tug her hands from his, but he held firm, his thumbs stroking the backs of her knuckles.

“My lady…” He clamped his mouth closed and stared at her hard, as if what he wanted to say was too difficult to push past his lips. Whatever he’d heard, he was willing to overlook it for the moment.

A little thrill sang inside her.

“Tell me,” she said, wishing more than anything—but knowing how naïve it was—that he would spout words of love.

But he didn’t speak. He stroked the backs of his fingers over her jaw, then cupped her cheek with his palm. She leaned into his hand, her eyes connecting with his, and excitement surged through her veins again, but this time it settled in her core.

Max drew in a ragged breath as foreign desire settled in places she’d not even known could feel like this.

“My lord?” she whispered, imploring him.

He leaned closer, his ardor filling her, his lips only inches away. “I need to kiss you, Maxwell. Let me kiss you.”

Her mouth fell open, but the only thing that came out was a whimper as he closed the distance, brushing his warm lips over hers. Languid heat filled her and she melted against him, all soft curves pressed to corded sinew. She’d not been kissed before and this single moment outshone all girlish fantasies she’d ever had about such. They melded together beneath the stars, his lips slanting gently over hers. He brushed his thumb over her chin, coaxing her lips to part, and then he dipped his tongue inside to taste her.

Max gasped, not only at the shock, but at the potent frisson of hunger that one delicious swipe brought her. Tentatively, she touched her tongue to his, and she was lost. Captivated by the way he’d so effortlessly claimed her. The way his mouth moved over hers, the way he commanded her with a look or softly spoken whisper.

“Maxwell…” he murmured, nibbling at her lips. He’d snaked an arm around her waist and danced circles with his fingers over the small of her back.

Prickles of pleasure tingled over her entire body and her toes curled in her slippers. She wanted to be closer to him. But as soon as she pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the steady pound of his heart beneath her fingertips, he pulled away from her.

She gazed at him, bemused by wonderment and dizzy with desire. His dark eyes were heavily lidded with longing, belying the determined set of his lips.

“Let me take you back inside before Mistress Hyde finds you out here alone in the dark with me.” He grinned with more affection. “Unless, of course, you want her to find us in such a way.”

Though the idea of spending another moment alone with him, letting him kiss her once more, was enticing, she wasn’t certain the scandal would be worth it. Not when she planned to tell her father her choice in the morning.

“Not just yet,” she said with a teasing smile of her own.

“Come then.” He tucked her arm around his elbow and held her hand in place over his forearm.

A sudden fear pricked her heart. Did Sebastien still want to marry her? Of course he would, with that kiss, wouldn’t he? He’d not spoken of it since she’d offered to give him the relics no matter what, though he had continued to court her attentively.

Strength emanated from his muscular forearm, and a tingle started at her fingertips and slid its way over her arms to her breasts. Max suppressed a gasp. Over the last several days, each time she saw him, touched him—even in so innocent a way as this—her body reacted in a way that not only scandalized her, but drew her interest. After the kiss they’d just shared, she knew what her body wanted—to be enfolded in his arms.

“I have a surprise for you,” she murmured as they passed through the door to the castle and started to walk down the corridor. Guards lined the walls, though they pretended not to notice them. “I was able to use your childhood Latin book to decipher the few legible words on the Gladius by the hilt. The wording along the rest of the blade was too scratched up for me to make out.”

Interest gleamed in his eyes. “Tell me.”

“
It read
Theodosia— Crimson and embers…
Then perhaps four undecipherable phrases before it ended at:
With dreams only of you.”

“Beautiful.” His grin was genuine, but she could tell by the lines furrowing his brow that something else disturbed him. “With dreams only of you… That line was etched onto my mother’s ring.”

“Fascinating, really.”

“I’m proud of you, Maxwell.”

She wanted to hear him say her name again. The way it sounded rolling off his tongue made her sigh with pleasure.

As they passed an alcove, he tugged her into it. She gasped, but he whirled her to face him, his expression serious.

“When my father passed, my mother started to go mad.” He spoke rapidly, as if he needed to get it all out before his lips were forced closed. “She’s tried to jump from her bedchamber window many times now. At first, I believed if I got the relics back, that I could help her, but I’ve come to realize that no amount of metal, no matter how it’s fashioned or inscribed, can help her.” He shook his head, his features showing his devastation. “She has been sick with grief and she’s just now starting to come out of it. I fear that if I return them to her, it will only send her down another spiral.”

“Sebastien, I had no idea.” She shook her head with empathy. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to hold you to your promise to give me the relics, Maxwell, but there is something I learned days ago, and I cannot hold back any longer. I must confess.”

She swallowed hard, her breath leaving her, heart fluttering behind her ribs.

“I love you. I love you so much that you’re my first thought upon waking and the last before I fall asleep. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my entire life, and I cannot stand that tomorrow you’ll choose a man to marry and that I might not be that man.”

Max’s heart dropped to her feet, then leapt up somewhere above her head. She squeezed his fingers. “I want you to be that man, Sebastien. As much as I tried not to, I’ve loved you from the moment I saw your boots peeking beneath my father’s curtains.”

“I do not think the relics are cursed, rather blessed since they are what brought us together.” He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them one by one.

Elation filled her. “And we are doomed to love one another.”