The Queen's Consort (6 page)

             
“Tristam told Ansel that I was a Highlander, not a slave girl.'I know what she is,' the prince replied. 'I want her. And I will have her.' He snatched me up, as bold as you please, and kissed me giddy.”

             
“You, giddy? Another sight I would pay dearly to see.”

             
“Yes, giddy. My toes curled and I nearly collapsed at his feet when he released me. 'You will have me as well,' he said to me. 'I will return for you. Be ready.' And he walked away.” Clairwyn collapsed into the chair.

             
“Tristam must have killed a dozen horses in his haste to spirit you away.”

             
“Very nearly.”

             
Ansel's hands curled into fists with remembered anger. When he'd found her gone his wrath had been truly awful. He'd torn apart the fair, the village, and the countryside for miles around in his search for her.

             
Clairwyn's eyes were distant, her happiness slipping away. She pressed her fingers to her lips. “As he held me I felt his strength, his power, and his inner turmoil. He knew that a Highland girl would bring him nothing but trouble—”

             
“He had no idea.”

             
He was still reeling.

             
“I didn't see Ansel again, didn't
feel
him, until Andromeda died.” Her shoulders slumped with the weight of her grief. A small, sad smile curled her lips. “But he was willing to brave that trouble. For me.”

             
She was worth it.

             
“He is a man of courage and conviction. You unsettle him, make him question, make him think. He is a man of action, not deep thought. It is not easy for him.”

             
He nearly growled at the truth in the fey's words.

             
“But you are sure?” the fey pressed Clairwyn.

             
“I am. Since that first moment, I have been sure. My fate is bound to Ansel.”

             
She sounded sad. As well she should. He
was
a man of conviction, and he was going to kill her.

Six

              “My Queen,” a Guard said, “you have a visitor.”

             
Caine gave the Guard a wide berth as he walked into the room. “Just keep your hands to yourself, young man,” he barked. “Unless you're going to buy me dinner and drinks.”

             
Clairwyn hid her smile.

             
“Your Guard is very interested in your safety, my Queen.” Caine scowled.

             
“They worry overmuch. What threat could reach me here?”

             
Behind the tapestry, Ansel smiled grimly.

             
“You have concerns, sir,” Clairwyn said to her advisor. “Please, be seated.”

             
Caine eyed the fey, who seemed to sense his scrutiny. “Excuse me,” Gladnys said. “There are a few things I need to fetch.”

             
She left the room but, Ansel was glad to see, left the door open. He could see flashes of Guard uniforms. The Queen shouldn't be left alone with this guy.

             
Caine leaned forward in his chair. Clairwyn seemed expectant but slightly impatient. What was happening?

             
“The time of choosing is upon you, my Queen,” Caine started. “Your father chose me as your confidant and adviser. I have always served you to the best of my ability.”

             
“You have served me well,” she agreed. “And I value your service.”

             
“I have benefited greatly from your favor.” He shifted in his chair. “And I have many friends in far-off lands as a result. These friendships have been good for you.”

             
“Your partnership with the Sheik of Urmai has been particularly fruitful for the entire country.”

             
“Just so.” Caine seemed to relax a little. He propped his elbows up and templed his fingers.

             
Ansel tensed. The man's smug look irked him. He suspected that he wouldn't like what he was going to hear next.

             
He was right.

             
“I know that I am older than your other suitors,” Caine said. “But I hope that the wisdom and temperance of years will compare well to their youth and, ah, other attractions.”

             
Clairwyn met his eyes squarely. “I will always value and appreciate you, Caine. There will always be a place for you at my court.”

             
The man chuckled. “You are a wise and diplomatic woman, my Queen.” He rose and bowed. “And you will always have my loyalty. Now I beg you to excuse me. I had to plead my case, but I can limit my embarrassment.”

             
Yes, run.
Ansel knotted his fists.
Before I run you through.

             
The Queen stood quickly. “There is no embarrassment between old friends, Caine. I count on you.”

             
“And you always can, my Queen. At least the Guard will not paw me on my way out.”

             
He'd barely left before Goddard scurried in. “I think I'm engaged to that Guard,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “A gentleman, at least, wouldn't do that without a promise.” He smoothed a hand over his blond head and bowed to Clairwyn. “My Queen, your guard dogs truly love their work.”

             
“Come, Goddard.” She
smiled
at the prick. “What have you braved my Guard to say?”

             
“Andromeda's funeral brought home my staggering loss.” The nobleman's face sobered appropriately. Clairwyn's smile disappeared. “I have lost my bride, my love, and all hope for the future.”

             
“Have you? How sad.”

             
“Indeed.” He dropped into the chair that Caine had just vacated. Ansel noticed that the noble was very well-dressed in tailored breeches, shiny boots, flawless jacket and snowy white shirt and cravat. Today he’d left the fancy codpiece at home. He crossed his legs at the ankle and turned his profile to Clairwyn.

             
Who, happily, appeared to be uninterested. So Goddard got to keep on breathing. For now, at least.

             
Goddard must have sensed her lack of response, too. He tried a different tack. “War looms, my Queen. You need a strong man at your side. As your brother-in-law I had hoped to assist you—” he waved a well-manicured hand “—but, tragically, that cannot happen now.”

             
“True.”

             
He dropped his pretense and faced her directly. “You, my Queen, know that I am from the best family in the land, a family that has always been stout supporters of the crown. I have proven my strength and courage on the field of battle before you. I am the best suited to stand beside you in the coming war.”

             
Clairwyn nodded thoughtfully. “Very well put, sir.”

             
He stood before her. “Choose me, my Queen, and I vow that you will never have cause to regret your choice.”

             
Clairwyn tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair. “Goddard, you are nobly born. You understand that sometimes important choices are made for us.”

             
“You, my Queen, have no one to please but yourself.”

             
She stood. “That is not true,” she said gently. “I know well that the fate of my country and my people rest on my decision.”

             
Goddard's face clouded but he nodded.

             
“Vow to me that you will support me in this.”

             
He sighed and rolled his eyes, but smiled ruefully. “My fate and destiny are with you, my Queen. You have my support. Of course you do.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

             
“So gallant,” she teased.

             
“So lost.” He leaned closer until his lips almost touched her hair. “I only loved Andromeda,” he said softly, “because you did not love me.”

             
She lifted her hand to his chest and pushed him gently away. “We cannot choose who we love.”

             
Was there a trace of regret in her voice? Ansel hadn't succeeded in killing Goddard on the field of battle. Would he have to kill the bastard in her bedroom?

             
Goddard dropped his hand and stepped away, so he would live to see another day. “My Queen.” He bowed deeply but the respectful gesture was marred by his roguish smile.

             
She waved him away, then turned to hide her answering smile. She moved around her room without purpose, and Ansel held his breath as she passed the tapestry that hid him.

             
Gladnys walked into the room. “I'm just here for a moment,” she said breezily, placing a carafe of water on the table. “Your next suitor is being assaulted by the Guard as we speak.”

             
“Who is it?”

             
“Sayer, of course. You didn't think this day would pass without him?”

             
“In many ways,” Clairwyn mused, “his argument is strongest. With him go the Highlanders, their stone fortresses, and the treacherous paths through the mountains.”

             
“True.” Gladnys dried her hands and scowled. “And I suspect he has deliberately looked the other way to remind you of it.”

             
Clairwyn turned toward her.

             
“How did Ansel and his party slip through the mountains?” Gladnys asked. “He certainly didn't walk around them.”

             
Hmm. The fey had an excellent point. Ansel had credited his mountain crossing to luck and skill. He'd broken his original attack party into five small groups, and all five had made it through. Ansel had expected to lose at least one, and possibly as many as three, to those damn Highland bloodhounds.

             
Clairwyn obviously shared his thinking. “My dear cousin Sayer,” she said ominously, “must be brought to heel.”

             
Gladnys shrugged. “I love that boy dearly,” she said. “But he's too smart and too ambitious for anybody's good. You'll need to smack him down hard and spare his pride in the process.”

             
“I am well known for my diplomacy.”

             
The fey laughed. “They think you are weak. Just a woman.”

             
“Let them underestimate me. I will be strong when I have to be.”

             
Gladnys paused to rest her hand on Clairwyn's shoulder. Were the fey's clouded eyes truly blind? She moved so surely that Ansel was starting to doubt.

             
Gladnys left the room as Sayer scurried in. “The Guard don't dare touch her, I see.” He tugged his lapels back into place. “Probably afraid to.”

             
“And rightfully so.”

             
Sayer forgot his pique and grinned. “Damn straight,” he said proudly. “The magic of the Highland women has always inspired more terror than the fighting skills of its men.”

             
Ansel scoffed. Superstitious nonsense. He was too smart to believe in—or fear—any woman's magic. No wonder he took an instant dislike to Sayer.

             
Sayer spread his hands. “You know why I'm here, my Queen. Our mothers were cousins. You know I want to support you.” He shook his head with mock regret. “But some of my subjects want more than vague promises. They want to be sure that you are as loyal to them as they can be to you.”

             
Ansel fidgeted impatiently. His answer would have consisted of three words: “Hang him now.”

             
Clairwyn's response was more measured. “Are you telling me that the Highlanders, my own kin, would choose to throw their lot in with Beaumont?”

             
“Of course they wouldn't.” Sayer seemed shocked and amused. “But their foremost concern, of course, is their own welfare. If they retreat to their fortresses and simply allow Beaumont's army to pass, it would go very ill for these farmers you rule.” His voice was disdainful.

             
“You would leave your passes unguarded? I scare believe it.”

             
“I would not, of course.” His mocking bow put Ansel's teeth on edge. “But I cannot speak for all.”

             
Then why was he speaking at all?

             
Clairwyn pursed her lips. “What promises has he made you?”

             
Sayer shrugged innocently.

             
“You are a fool if you believe him.”

             
Silently, Ansel agreed with her. His father was an inveterate and unapologetic liar.

             
Clairwyn remained calm and poised. “If Beaumont controls the roads and passes, he will fortify them. He will cut you off and isolate you in your impregnable mountain aeries. You can't eat stone, dear cousin. One by one, your strongholds will fall.”

             
Sayer flushed red and recoiled as if she'd struck him. “The Castle in the Clouds—”

             
“Will be the last to fall, perhaps, but when it does it will mark the end of a free people. If you do not accept the yoke of slavery—and I cannot imagine such a proud people on bended knee—you will be hunted like animals in your precious mountains.”

             
For a long moment Sayer stared at her, shocked into silence.

             
Ansel wondered if Clairwyn had a spy in Beaumont's court. She knew his plan exactly. Or had her clever advisors figured it out for her?

             
“You are dismissed, cousin.” She waved her hand languidly.

             
The corner of Sayer's mouth kicked up into a smile. “You've already chosen, haven't you? Did you see it in a vision?”

             
She arched a brow in response.

             
“Choose well, cousin.” His smile faded. “The fate of two kingdoms, and our people, rides on your decision.”

             
He nodded abruptly and strode away.

             
Clairwyn's chest rose and fell on a deep breath.

             
“Well done,” Gladnys said from the doorway.

             
“Did you hear it all, then?”

             
“Yes. And you are quite the diplomat, my dear. These men don't even realize how well you handle them.” She chuckled. “Except, perhaps, for Sayer.”