Lady Trent (9 page)

She thought a moment before smiling over at
him, and gave his hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. His face glowed
with relief and they together watched their guests.

After being entertained by troubadours and
musicians, dances meant for random maidens and fellows were
conducted. These were intended to entertain, and could be quite
provocative. The participants were mostly handmaidens and squires
who’d attended with their masters and mistresses. Zaria was one of
these, which did not surprise Rachel in the least. She’d broken
away from Sir Marcus, and chose Nicholas as her partner. Strange to
see him dressed in average clothing opposed to the usual armor.

He and Zaria, as the other partners, knew
each move by heart. The music played, and they danced…often very
leisurely, from a distance and then together, staring one another
in the eye with every turn, with every graceful step, sweep and
twirl. Afterward the nobles applauded. Rachel had to agree…it was
quite entertaining. She and Jacob joined in the applause.

There were more dances meant for the noble
couples, simple and well organized. She at first refused Jacob’s
attempt at getting her to join him, but then accepted although
fearing she was not experienced enough to participate.

She hadn’t danced in years, since she was a
child. At first she was clumsy, but as they moved from song to
song, she fit in well. It all came back to her; although some of
the dances she did not know at all. After having first watched, and
then joining in, simply doing what everyone else was doing, she did
well and soon experienced the carefree feeling she remembered from
so long ago—before the age of ten when she’d happily partook in
events of celebration, whether for a holiday or such events as
marriage. Although rare, the citizens of Westerly did know how to
celebrate an occasion.

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

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

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

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

“Are you well?”

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

“I’ve startled you yet again.”

“I had supposed I was alone.”

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

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

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

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

“You are much too forthright,” she
commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Today even,” she agreed, anyway.

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

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

“I am a curious man.”

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

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

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

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

“You do not take instruction very well.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you perceive that
he
has?”

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

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

Her initial response was to look away from
him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there any wrong to suspect?”

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

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

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

“There was no other.”

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

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

CHAPTER FIVE

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

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

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

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

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