Tangled Hearts (17 page)

“You’ve wed a Wellington, Lord Brody. If the family is found guilty of treason, all parts of that family must be investigated.”

Blast! Ewan must wish he’d never encountered her. Her numb lips moved as if on their own. “I’ve pondered divorcing my Lord Brody,” she said and all eyes snapped to her. “If I do, would he be free to leave England?” She held her breath, not knowing what answer she hoped for.

“Over my dead body,” Ewan said. His fingers dug a bit harder into her shoulder, but she refused to look at him. She focused on Cromwell’s one raised eyebrow.

“I don’t…” Cromwell started, stopped, then started again. “Divorce, Lady Wellington, is a long, tedious process that cannot be done for reasons of whimsy.”

“He beats me.”

“Bloody hell, I do not!” Ewan stepped in front of her, his frown so fierce she almost smiled in response.

“And he sleeps with other women.” She leaned to the side to see Cromwell. “I think it best if you let him go back to his rough, unruly country. He is too coarse for a refined country such as England.”

They all stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Dory felt a panicky little bubble of laughter start up in her throat, but she kept her lips shut tight. If she could get Ewan out of this mess, she’d be free of the guilt. Surely it was the guilt that made her feel so sick and not the thought of him leaving.

“Or an annulment,” she continued. “The marriage has not yet been consummated. Yes, I wish for an annulment on the grounds that he will not do his duty in my bed.” She nodded to punctuate the truth.

Ewan snorted and turned back to the royal advisor’s desk. Cromwell’s mean face actually cracked into something similar to a grin. Little brown teeth peeked through the thin lips.

Despite Ewan’s head shaking and huffing, she nodded again. “Annulment,” she whispered.

“Lady Wellington.” Cromwell folded his hands so that his fingertips made a steeple. “I will not support a lie, and no one on the council, having looked at the two of you, would believe you.” He gestured to Ewan. “Lord Brody is quite young and strong, and you, my lady, are of exceptional beauty.”

She almost blushed at the compliment but since it came from a man with the king’s power over life and death, her stomach turned instead.

“I swear on my mother’s soul that I am still whole.”

“Your mother’s soul may already be lost.” Cromwell frowned and looked at Ewan. “I would rectify the situation before your wife decides to press the issue of annulment, in some bizarre effort to protect you by sending you home without her.”

“Rectifying the situation is not so easy,” Ewan said, “with our room being inhabited by her father, her… brother, and now a young lady’s companion.”

Dory’s face felt scorched as if the sun beat down on it. Cromwell pointed to the parchment in Captain Bart’s fingers. “They are free and encouraged to return to their ship to retrieve the ring. And the companion will be given a servant’s room. The house is not filled to capacity since Queen Anne remains at Whitehall.”

He stared hard at Captain Bart. “Know that if you do not return with the ring, Lady Wellington will take your place in the Tower.”

“Things happen at sea, Lord Cromwell,” Captain Bart said. “Storms, pirate attacks. What if we are delayed?”

Cromwell smiled. “She is young yet. She will wait for your return, as long as it takes.”

…

Ewan followed Dory out of Cromwell’s office. Black fury swarmed through him, making him feel weak and invincible at the same time. Five steps. He’d give her five single steps.

One, two, three, four… she paused. Bloody, blasted, swiving hell! She re-sheathed her blade and took a step. Five! He grabbed Dory’s arm, steering her into an alcove.

“We will meet you two back in Searc’s room,” he called to Captain Bart and Will.

“Where are you taking Dory?” Will asked.

“Come along, boy,” Captain Bart said wisely. “I think those two have some words to exchange. We bloody well better stay inside in case Panda starts throwing lightning bolts.” He said that last statement loudly, most likely as a warning, but Ewan didn’t care.

He loomed over Dory until she had to tip her foolish head far back if she wanted to glare at him in the eyes. He had never used his height or his physical strength to bully a woman. An angel, he was not. But he’d never cross the line of hurting a woman. Though this was the closest he’d ever come to throttling one.

“What the bloody hell were you doing in there?” he gritted out. She opened her lush little mouth to answer but he beat her to it. “Being utterly foolish, stupidly throwing false information at the second most powerful man in England! First of all, he can spot a lie as soon as it’s uttered. Second, you weren’t at all convincing.”

Thunder boomed outside.

“And I don’t care if ye send a whirlwind to take this castle apart brick by brick, Dory Wyatt Wellington Brody,” he said low. “Don’t ye ever try to divorce or annul or get rid of me again.” His words had become softer, the threat even heavier.

“You can’t divorce or annul something that doesn’t exist,” she whispered, and he swore there was a stab of hurt behind her words but her beautiful features only pinched in anger.

“Everyone here knows us as wed, therefore, here in England, we are wed.” Och! That didn’t make sense and he’d always stayed away from any such commitment, but… hell, he meant every word.

Dory blinked. “So as soon as we cross the border or sail away from shore, we are done, finished, as if it never happened?” she asked.

He only stared, not sure how to answer. Either way seemed wrong.

When he continued the silence, she finished for him. “That is the definition of annulment, never happened,” she snapped and tried to push under his arm.

But he stopped her, tugging her back. She refused to look up.

“Dory,” he said, anger honing the edge of her name. His finger fought with her chin until she finally gave in and she turned her gaze to him. His breath thickened in his throat, unable to pass. Her eyes shone as if they were full of moisture, making them look like full storm clouds. He barely heard the heavy downpour of rain outside.

He tugged her in gently and studied her face. The anger seemed to have bled out, leaving a vulnerable paleness in her face. He much preferred the spark.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” he asked again, but softer and without the bloodlust in his voice. Could he have scared her with his reaction to her foolish lies?

“I won’t let you die because of me,” she said.

“I don’t intend to die.”

“People rarely do.”

“I’ll get the two of us away before that can happen,” he said. The promise would have made him twitch just a month ago, but now… och, it felt right.

“But…” She paused as if she were swallowing back words. “You won’t go home, will you?”

True. He wouldn’t be able to return to Druim, at least not publicly. If King Henry thought Caden Macbain was harboring a fugitive, he could bring war to his people, something he would never allow. Could that thought upset her?

He shrugged lightly. “I’ve been wanting to journey abroad, see the world, perhaps on a ship. I’ve been told Highlanders are much like pirates.”

“I’ve destroyed your life,” she said as if the world were coming to an end. He’d never seen her so distraught. Thunder crackled outside.

Ewan caught her face in the palms of his hands, cradling it so that she could see his eyes. He knew that she would be able to tell if he lied from his physical response, just like Meg could read Caden. He thought for a moment and spoke truthfully. “If my life were destroyed, lass, I don’t think I would feel this good.”

His answer confused her, enough that she didn’t retreat when he leaned in and captured her mouth. Her lips were still, cool at first, and he almost pulled back to apologize for his callousness. But then she slanted ever so much, a tiny tilt to her face, and her soft mouth opened on a breath.

Ewan’s hands slid from her face to her back. His whole upper half encompassed her, sucking her into his strong shield. Och, but if he could keep her safely tucked within his arms. Then maybe he could breathe fully once again.

Her whispered moan against his mouth licked flames inside him. He stepped them back deeper into the shadows of the windowless alcove. A curtain easily yanked closed, blocked them from any view. His legs bumped against something, a large chair, big enough for two. He pulled Dory with him down onto it, so she came to rest on his lap. Could she feel what she did to him through her heavy skirts? Of course she could. Her magic could detect all his honest, ready-to-do-his-duty reactions to her sweet warmth.

Ewan’s fingers tangled in her hair. He left her mouth to trail kisses from her ear down the side of her slender neck. She tasted better than sweets at Christmastide. “I will kiss and nibble ye from head to toe,” he whispered and felt her shiver. His teeth grazed the delicate skin at the base of her throat.

“Ewan,” she murmured on a ragged breath. “What are you doing to me?”

“Not enough yet,” he managed to say before kissing her parted lips once more.

Her fingers caught in his hair then ran down his neck and back. It was as if she wanted to touch as many parts of him as she could. She wiggled in his lap, her full backside sliding hard against him until his own groan escaped.

He shifted her to the seat next to him before he threw all principles to Hades and stripped her down right there in the hall. Though he set her off his lap, he still held her close, tasting her sweet mouth. Her fingers found his shirt under his doublet. Down, down, down they explored, stroking his chest, his abs, fanning his fire. Until… he caught her hand.

“Dory,” he rasped against her mouth. “We are in a corridor.”

“I don’t care,” she said and stroked against him. His muscles clenched as his pulse raced. “I think Adela was right. Swiving must be the best thing in life.”

Ewan’s chuckle changed into a low groan as it literally pained him to restrain himself. She was practically begging him to take her, but instead he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it. He was starting to think this went beyond lust. “I won’t ravish a maiden in a public hallway.”

She kissed him. “I can keep quiet.”

He ran his lips back along to her ear. “Not when I’m between yer legs, lass,” he said low and felt her entire body shudder. He groaned and stood, leaving her to collect herself. When he looked down, he realized that she was now on level with his quite obvious arousal.

She continued to stare at his crotch even when he helped her stand. Living on board a ship of men, she must have seen one naked. “Dory?”

Her eyes were a bit rounder than normal. “Are you larger than most?”

“That’s not something I’ve investigated,” he said and adjusted himself. “Have ye never seen a naked man?”

She shook her head, and Ewan felt the need to heartily thank Captain Bart. He lowered his face to hers. He’d never seen her timid before, and he rather liked it. A passionate tornado hid inside, and he would definitely be the one releasing it. “Don’t worry, lass. It all fits together,” he said.

Her face flushed and she opened her mouth to say something. Just then boots stomped down the hall. He put his finger to her lips, still warm from his kiss.

“What does he want?” a man snapped. Ewan glanced out from the curtain to see James Wellington stride up to Cromwell’s door in front of the page.

“My Lord Cromwell would like to ask you some questions,” the page explained as Wellington charged into the advisor’s office, slamming the door in the page’s face. The servant called him a bastard, glanced around, and clipped back the way he’d come.

“He’ll be in danger now because of me,” Dory said as she peaked around the other side of the curtain.

“He can maneuver through these waters better than ye.”

She nodded. “Captain Bart always says that if you find yourself being chased by a shark, you don’t have to outswim the shark, just the bloke swimming next to you.”

She looked guilty, but Ewan smiled at her jest. She had the heart of a warrior. She’d be fine. He pulled the curtain back and led her down the hall.

“We’ll continue this,” he paused, his hand caressing the gentle slope of her spine, “discussion later,” he said, meeting her gaze. His words were as serious as an oath.

Chapter Eleven

11 April of the Year our Lord God, 1518

Dearest Kat,

Do not fret. I am honored by your news. John will think the babe is his, but when we rule, the child will be our heir. Perhaps I will finally have a son as Isabelle’s womb spouted only a daughter and I can no longer stomach her. You are the one I think about, my love. You calm my raging spirit.

Your Servant,

Rowland

“
Cha… leig le.
”

Dory woke slowly to the mumbled sound of a man’s voice. She blinked her eyes open to darkness. Where was she? Her only movement was her fingers under her pillow, finding the cool handle of her knife.

Even in the deep night of the room, she could see the little head lying on a pillow in front of her face. Moonlight penetrated the glassed windows. Charissa. Safe and asleep, she sighed, in their bed as the servant’s room would not be ready until the next day.

But that wasn’t the voice she’d heard.

“Shhh, lass, the wee one is sleeping.” Ewan’s low voice was deep and slow as if he, too, had just woken.

Dory stilled as Ewan’s arm pulled her body against his under the heavy blanket. Although he sounded drowsy, his body felt very much awake and ready for mischief. Her heartbeat thumped hard in her chest. She felt his lips touch her nape where her hair had been tucked away.

“You were talking in your sleep,” she murmured and felt him tense.

“What did I say?”

“It was in Gaelic.” She gently rolled toward him, but his face was in complete shadow.

“Just dreaming of the Highlands.” He kissed her forehead as he tucked her into him.

“You miss your home,” she whispered. He made a small sound that sounded like agreement. “Tell me about it.”

“’Tis rugged and raw, untainted by human waste. The flowers bloom across the green moors, the beinns are majestic, reaching the clouds, and the lochs glitter when the sun shows itself.”

“It sounds beautiful,” she said with a sinking feeling. “You love it.”

“It’s part of me, in my blood.” He spoke softly. “Sometimes it’s gentle and sweet but it holds passion and has a fierce temper.”

“Sounds like the sea.” She smiled, her cheek against his chest.

He paused for a long while. “I suppose it does. Except for the flowers.”

She laughed silently, only her body shaking. “Yes, except for the flowers. I’d like to see it someday.”

She caught her breath on an inhale of his scent. A long moment passed and she let her exhale seep out, disappointment heavy in her stomach.

“I can take ye there, Dory.”

Her senses reached out instantly. His breathing remained even, his muscles relaxed. No hint of a lie.

“I would like that,” she said, her voice just above a breath.

Like the gentle brush of a leaf fluttering against her lips, he leaned down and kissed her. So soft, but the heat of it ignited inside Dory. He pulled back. “Let’s try to get through this alive first. Now get some sleep.”

“No swiving tonight,” she teased.

“That requires privacy,” he answered though she knew he was thinking about it.

She smiled in the darkness. “Actually Adela told me that’s not a requirement. In fact, she had a story about two blokes—”

“Sleep, Dory,” Ewan said. She sighed and turned back around to face Charissa. Dory scooted her backside into him and heard a faint groan. If she was going to be uncomfortable tonight, so should he. She closed her eyes with a smile. Amazing that she could feel so happy after the day she’d had.

…

“You weren’t here, lazy boy! Making you sweet cakes instead of my dinner, she was!” Bloodshot eyes squinted over snarling, wet lips. His father’s fists shook in the air with his rage.

Ewan couldn’t move his feet as he stared at the lump on the floor. He tried to go to her, would have thrown himself over her if he could only move.

Ewan’s eyes opened before his mind fully left the nightmare he’d been having. He pried his fists open and rubbed his hands down his face. Despite the coolness in the room, sweat left a sheen over his skin. Bloody hell! He hadn’t dreamt of his father for over a year.

The latch on the door jiggled. ’Twas what had woken him. Ewan slid silently from between the linens, and wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword.

“Is someone there?” Dory asked. She was sitting up in the bed, the low cut of her chemise barely covering her shape.

“Panda?” a voice called.

“Captain? It isn’t even dawn yet.” She pushed out of bed and lit an oil lamp while Ewan unbarred the door.

“Will and I are headed out.”

Will glanced at the sleeping girl and then nudged Ewan with his elbow. “I see we weren’t interrupting anything going on in here.” The man’s jest bit, letting Ewan know how badly he wanted to take his place in bed with Dory.

His almost-sister ignored him. “Why now?”

“We slept some in Searc’s room. Fine lad, he is. Offered him a place on the
Queen Siren
.” Captain Bart looked at Ewan. “But he seems to love his Highlands.”

“And his Mama,” Will teased, but again the jest seemed bitter.

“The sooner we return to the ship,” Captain Bart continued as he held Dory’s shoulders, “the sooner I can get you that blasted box.”

“How are ye going?” Ewan asked.

“We walked down to the docks yesterday evening,” Captain Bart said. “There’s a merchant ship which might give us passage around Wales to Barry Sound before heading west. You said the
Queen Siren
was waiting off the western shore.”

“She is unless something happened.”

“If she ran into trouble, Pete would steer her into the port at Barry to get supplies. I’ll find them there and most likely return over land.”

“If all goes smoothly,” Ewan said and walked back to Dory, “ye could be back in a fortnight.”

“Before you can miss me.” Captain Bart leaned in and kissed Dory on the forehead then looked straight into her eyes. “O’Neil is down at the docks, too. I saw the
Raven
at anchor.”

Ewan felt Dory tense next to him. “He is gathering strays like Charissa said,” Dory whispered.

“And you are not to go anywhere near him,” Captain Bart ordered with a quick glance at Ewan. “We will deal with him on open water.”

“I’ll keep her away,” Ewan said. “She has a habit of getting into trouble.”

Dory shot him a glare. “So do you.”

“Actually that only started after I met ye.”

Captain Bart chuckled. “My Panda needs someone strong to keep her from running head first into disaster.”

“Captain—”

“’Tis true, girl,” Captain Bart finished. He looked at Ewan and smiled. “She’s trouble, but if you stick around, I think you’ll find she’s worth the disaster.”

“Captain!” she called as loudly as she dared. If there had been enough light, Ewan was certain he would see a deep flush on her cheeks.

Her father kissed her again and turned. Will walked over and before Ewan could step in front of her, he scooped her into a hug with a loud smacking kiss, then set her back down. He glanced at Ewan with an I-dare-you look. Dory hit Will’s shoulder as he turned.

“See you in a fortnight,” Will threw over his shoulder. At the door he did turn to Ewan. “Like the captain ordered, take care of our girl.”

Dory huffed. “I can take care of myself. You surely know that,” she tossed at him as he stepped out. His snort came from the hallway and then they were gone.

She stood staring at the closed door as Ewan slid the bar across.

“This will be easy for them,” he said.

She nodded but chewed gently on her bottom lip. Guilt churned in her stomach. She wasn’t worth all this effort. “It seems I’m always causing danger for someone,” she said.

“Ah now. A little danger makes the living sweeter.”

She tipped her chin up, a slight grin softening the tension in her face. “Now who sounds like a pirate?”

“I have a sudden yearning to see ye climbing the mast lines,” he said and pulled her into the circle of his bare arms.

He kissed her gently. Aye, a little danger never tasted so sweet, like warmth and waking passion. She was delicate yet so strong in spirit. She touched her tongue to his, eliciting a low growl from him. On the bed, Charissa rolled over. Dory sighed against his mouth and he released her to breathe deeply.

He turned away from Dory. “I’ll be by the fire.”

“The bed is big enough,” she said as she crawled back in.

He glanced at her there among the furs and blankets, the look of an angel in white, hair spilling around her shoulders. Did she even realize how tantalizing she looked? “Sleep,” he ordered softly. “Tomorrow we need to raise a traitor from the dead.”

…

The morning flew by. Tilly brought breakfast and wove Charissa’s hair while Dory questioned her about what she remembered from the past.

“Well now, m’lady, I was just a young maid working here when your mother walked these halls,” Tilly said, Charissa’s brown hair twined deftly between her fingers.

“Do you remember who she spoke with, perhaps saw her riding out with a man?” Dory asked.

Tilly glanced up. “Hmmm…other than Lord Wellington, her husband? A time or two, perhaps. She walked a lot in the gardens, lovely thing she was.” She smiled at Dory. “Just like you, m’lady. She had many admirers.”

Dory studied the letters strewn on the small writing desk. “Perhaps she met with Richard Pembroke?”

Tilly scrunched her face. “I do not recall that, though she had an argument with her husband’s brother once that left the court whispering for a week,” she said with a nod.

“James Wellington?”

“Aye. I also saw her with a thin man with dark eyes, caught them whispering in the alcove near what’s now Lord Cromwell’s office.” Tilly’s gaze remained fastened to Charissa’s hair.

Rowland Boswell? Dory blushed, wondering if she could possibly have been conceived in the same alcove she nearly demanded Ewan ravish her in.

“Cromwell wasn’t the king’s advisor then?” Dory asked and watched Tilly’s fingers fly down the short braid, then twist it up across Charissa’s head.

“Nay, m’lady. He was young and studious, always being clever with the king when he was around, impressing him, I suppose.” She shrugged. “And it worked. Look where he is now. Only the king himself has more power than Lord Cromwell.”

“Quite clever,” Dory murmured and turned back to the letters.

“Oh, and your lady’s maid,” Tilly said, squeezing Charissa’s shoulders, “has been assigned the room right next to mine…and I found you some dresses,” she said near the girl’s ear.

Shortly after the two left to find Charissa’s garments, Searc and Ewan came in. Dory filled them in on what she’d learned from Tilly.

“See what ye can find out from that grizzly old groom out in the stables,” Ewan instructed Searc.

The tall boy said something in Gaelic, his eyes straying to Dory. Ewan sighed as if resigned and nodded. She waited until the door shut behind Searc before turning on Ewan. He held up his hand. “Searc saw a ship that matches the look of the
Raven.
It is still
docked along the Thames near the Tower.”

“Where exactly?”

“Ye’re not going down there,” Ewan said.

His command bristled inside Dory even though he was just repeating her father’s order. Blast it! O’Neil was within her grasp, and he didn’t even know she was here. She could strike while he slept, skewering him to his pox-infested bed.

She’d never actually killed anyone before, but O’Neil was long past due in being sent to Hell. How many children had suffered and died under his tainted care? An image of the red-haired girl popped unwilling into Dory’s mind, her little fist curling as she slumped in the fiend’s arms. That child could have been herself if her mother had been taken by the
Raven
.

Dory felt the burn of her useless tears and pushed the image away. The girl was probably dead now and in Heaven, warm and loved. Either way, the bastard needed to die.

“Do ye understand, Dory?” Ewan asked.

She blinked until her wet eyes cleared. “I understand that you are trying to follow Captain Bart’s orders and that is a valiant idea.”

“Dory,” he warned. “Do I need to tie ye to me?”

She smiled wickedly. “Adela did mention that some blokes like using ropes.”

He frowned but she could almost see his pulse quicken in his throat. “Dory, it is too dangerous for ye to confront this O’Neil bastard on yer own.”

“You’d be right with me whether I order you to stay here or not.”

He rolled his eyes. “Order me,” he repeated like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Yes, order you.” She glanced purposely at his crotch. “I don’t know why people think that just because men have a fifth appendage that they get to be the ones giving all the orders. I’m much more powerful than any man I’ve ever met.”

Ewan stared at her for a long moment. “So ye can do everything all on yer own then?”

She frowned, sensing a trap but not sure where it was.

“Like escaping the Tower,” he continued. “And Henry’s grasp. Ye can do it all alone, without anyone’s help.”

She felt her flush but didn’t acknowledge it. “I could make do somehow.”