The Queen's Necklace (47 page)

The hackney lumbered to a halt. One of the servants came out of the house and threw open the coach door. Will climbed out first, brushed off his green coat, and straightened his neckcloth. Then, scrupulously polite, he reached up to help Lili as she descended. Her gloved hand rested briefly in his and a glance passed between them, but she was up the stairs and inside the house before he had time to utter a single word.

Will ground his teeth. It was the final insult, the very last one he was prepared to endure.
By the gods, I'll have you tonight
, he vowed in his rage.
And I'm not about to settle for only half of you either!

Lili was in her bedchamber—had already handed her fan to the abigail, was in the process of removing her velvet cloak—when the door flew open and Will walked in, already divested of his coat and his boots.

She had known, of course, that he would arrive eventually, but not so soon. She swept a hand across her eyes. The anger that had fueled her earlier had all been consumed, leaving her tired and depressed. “If you don't mind, Wilrowan, I'd like a few minutes longer.” The cloak
dropped from her shoulders to the floor, and the abigail silently picked it up and folded it over one arm.

Will continued to stand there in his shirt-sleeves and his stocking feet, holding the door open. “Send the girl away. You are not a child; you can undress yourself. Or at need, I will help you myself.”

Lili blinked at him, this was so unexpected. The abigail quickly left the room without even waiting for Lili to send her away, and Will closed the door firmly behind her.

He leaned up against the door frame. “Pray don't allow me to hinder you, madam. Go on as you would if I were not even here.”

Lili swallowed hard. What on earth had gotten into him? They had been married for almost seven years, and always he had treated her with gentleness and respect. She felt her anger revive. What did he expect of her now—that she would
flaunt
herself like one of his hussies from the palace?

She took in a long angry breath, remembering how the Steerpike creature had looked at her earlier: those mocking eyes, those painted lips, and that superior smile—as though she knew something that Lili did not.
But I do know
, thought Lili,
and I could do it, too. Make him burn as he burns when he looks at those others, make him sick with wanting me
.

Hardly believing what she was doing, Lili pulled off one glove and then the other, holding the embroidered and scented silk for a long moment, before she let it slide out of her fingers and down to the floor. Still more slowly, she took the hairpins out of her hair, dropping them one by one at her feet. When they were all gone, she shook out her hair, until the powdered and perfumed curls fell over her shoulders.

Well why not?
she thought defiantly.
I may not be able to hold him forever, but I could certainly keep him interested for a single night. There is hardly a woman in Hawkesbridge who hasn't had Will for
a single night.
And none of those women can do what I can: make his skin shiver, his heartbeat match mine, touch him in ways he could scarcely imagine
.

Lili felt her blood run hot as she unhooked the back of her gown, shrugged it off her shoulders, then pulled it over her head and cast it aside, so that it lay in a shimmer of brocade satin on the floor.

She saw his nostrils flare, his lips compress; all of the color drained from his face, but Will said nothing.

With trembling fingers she unhooked the waist of her satin petticoat, unfastened the hoopskirt she wore underneath. Petticoat and hoops collapsed to the floor, and Lili stepped away in her linen chemise and pearl-edged corset.

Wilrowan continued to lounge against the door, slender and graceful, but quivering with tension. His auburn hair seemed to flame against the unnatural whiteness of his skin. Could he feel it yet? She could hardly breathe herself—were they breathing together?

This was not what the healing magic was for. Lili knew what she was doing was very wrong—but she did not care. She had endured too much over the years, was feeling too much now. Modesty, dignity, pride, none of it mattered. Lili knew that she was going to do this, and damn the consequences.

Slowly, she lifted one foot, removed the right shoe, a pretty thing with a satin rosette, and tossed it aside. Lifting her other foot, she slipped off the second shoe.

Better not to think past the moment, to spare no thought for what she might feel in the morning. She sat down on the side of the crimson bed, lifted the hem of her chemise over her knees, slid off first a ruffled garter then a white silk stocking, repeated the process on the other side.

Lili knew that she had Will now. His lips were trembling, his breath came and went along with her own. She felt a surge of triumph, of power, as she began to unhook her embroidered satin stays. As the stiff buckram at the front parted, he made a sound deep in his throat.

Before she knew it, he was across the room, on the bed beside her, bearing her down with his weight. He pulled at the drawstring on her chemise, pushed the linen aside with one hand. That hand, like fire, cupped her breast.

No
, thought Lili, on a sudden surge of panic. He would know what she was feeling, he would know too much. She felt weak, giddy—giddier still when he bent his head, when she felt his mouth, his tongue, moving across bare skin. When she made an inarticulate sound of protest, Will drew back a little, breathing hard.

She could feel his warm breath on her breast as he spoke. “I intend to taste every inch of your skin.”

And I am the one who is going to burn like a torch
, thought Lili, somewhere between panic and pleasure. Then she cast away pride, abandoned all sense of shame, and simply gave herself up to whatever was going to happen next.

M
id-morning found Will and Lili at the breakfast table. The previous night had been a revelation of more than physical passion, and the tea, toast, baked apples, and chocolate were consumed in a self-conscious atmosphere of sidelong glances, and only half-concealed smiles. Lili—in a striped satin dressing gown—pretended to be reading a letter from her Aunt Allora, and Will—as yet unshaven—was doing justice to the toast and baked apples, though it appeared doubtful he tasted a single bite.

In the middle of the meal, there came a sudden and unexpected loud tapping at one of the casements. Lili glanced up from her letter. Something large and black was fluttering outside the window, rattling its beak against the panes of glass.

“How odd. It almost looks as though that bird is trying to get in.”

Will was staring at the window, too. The raven was not only trying to get in, it was holding something small and brightly colored in its beak. He rose slowly to his feet, still keeping his eyes on the window. “There is a chill in this room, my sweet love. I'll go upstairs and fetch you a shawl.”

Lili was obviously moved by his tender solicitude. “No, Will—really.
Or, if you insist, we can ring for—” But he was already across the room and out the door before she could finish the sentence.

He ran up four flights in his stocking-feet, taking them two steps at a time. He flung open the bedchamber door and stepped inside, swept a quick glance around to make certain none of the servants were present—then he was across the room in three long strides, unfastening one of the windows.

The raven heard the creak of the opening casement. Abandoning its attempts on the dining-parlor below, it came fluttering up to the bedchamber window and landed on the wooden sill.

The words beat against Will's mind as the raven's beak had beat against the window panes. And in that beak he saw the tell-tale scrap of scarlet ribbon, a prearranged token.

The raven jumped from the window ledge to the floor. Will went down on one knee, put out a hand to touch the glossy black head of the bird. It was easier to communicate if they were actually in contact.

Will took a long breath and let it out slowly. This was very good news; yet, with his mind still full of Lili and the night before, he could not help thinking it could hardly have come at a worse time. <
You have done very well. That is—if you can tell me the name of the town in question.
>

The raven dipped its head, dropped the bit of scarlet ribbon on the planked floor.
>

Lili had put aside Allora's letter and was drinking her chocolate when Will returned without her shawl. He had finished dressing in a tearing hurry, was just shrugging into his coat as he crossed the threshold. His boots clattered on the floor as he crossed the room and dropped a quick, apologetic kiss on her hair.

“The stupidest thing. A message came from the Volary while we were eating breakfast, and some fool of a footman took it upstairs and left it in my dressing room. It appears urgent, so I
have
to go. This morning of all mornings—when I would have given the world to stay with you here.”

“Yes, I see,” said Lili, with a puzzled frown. “Though I never heard a knock at the—” She gave a tiny gasp as Will pulled her up to her feet, caught her in his arms, and stopped her from speaking with a hard kiss on the mouth.

It was a somewhat prickly kiss, as he was still unshaven, but Lili was happy to participate anyway. Unfortunately, it ended too soon. Will spoke in her ear, still holding her tightly around the waist. “I may have to leave the city today, for—for what might be a considerable time. I swear to you, I would never go if it was anything less than vitally important—not after last night. There are still so many things that I need to say to you.”

The breath-taking embrace was suddenly removed, and Will's boots went clattering across the room, before Lili had time to recover.

But he stopped with one hand on the door, and said with a last pleading glance: “Promise me you won't go anywhere, until I've had the chance to stop back and say good-bye. If I have to move Heaven and earth, I'll try to be back within the next two hours.”

Will had only been gone a few minutes when Lili's mind began to work again. An urgent summons from the king—had it not been a
secret
message, Will would have explained it. She felt her heart leap as she realized what that message might be. Acting with sudden decision, she left the room, started up the rosewood staircase. If the king had sent for Sir Frederic and his friend Doctor Fox when he sent for Wilrowan, she ought to be hearing from Sir Bastian very soon.

But Lili had ample time to dress before news finally arrived. It came in the form of a note carried upstairs by one of the footmen. Tearing it open, she scanned it quickly. The message was brief:
“Be prepared to leave Hawkesbridge at once. I will make the other arrangements.”

She sat on her bed staring down at the words. Leave Hawkesbridge at once? Well, of course—the Specularii wanted her to arrive wherever she was going and do whatever had to be done, before Will came along on the same business, and spoiled everything with his
“lack of discretion and self-regulation.”

Lili closed her eyes, tried to shut out the picture, so clear in her mind, of Will's face on the pillow beside her, so open, so vulnerable, so full of emotion.
We could do this together, Wilrowan and I
, something inside her protested. But no, the decision had already been made—and though not by her, at least it was a decision she had agreed to honor.

“
Don't go anywhere—if I have to move Heaven and earth, I'll try to be back within two hours
.” Will's parting words seemed to echo in the room. Two hours did not leave her much time to get ready, and he might be back even before that. Putting the note aside, Lili sprang to her feet.

She dashed off a quick reply to Sir Bastian, asking him to come for her within the next hour. Then she set about packing as many of her clothes as she could fit into a single trunk.

But he asked me to wait for him. How can I do this—after such a night?
It was an inward cry of anguish, as Lili stood before a mirror in the downstairs hall, tying the ribbons of her chipstraw hat under her chin. But she knew the answer even as she asked the question. Something important was afoot, something that might affect the future of Mountfalcon, the future of the whole world—and the Specularii were depending on her and her talents.

And it had been a wonderful, a remarkable night, but it had only been one out of six years, seven years of nights. How could she know if it really meant as much to Wilrowan as it meant to her?

Once she had instructed a footman to carry her trunk to the foot of the stairs, there was nothing left to be done but to go into the sitting room and compose a letter to Will. She hesitated with the quill in her hand, not knowing what she would say. The obvious thing was to invent some story, some plausible excuse, to say that Papa or Aunt Allora had taken ill, that she was needed back home at Brakeburn. Yet she found she could not lie to him, this of all mornings. Besides, it was entirely possible their paths might eventually cross. If so, he would realize she had deceived him, and never be able to trust her again.

While Lili was still agonizing over her letter, there came the rumble of a heavy coach pulling up outside. She put down the pen, stole a quick look out through a window. It was, as she had expected, the black berlin.