Edward marched toward the stable, unable to find humor in the fiasco currently playing out in his parlor. He simply needed to go for a ride. Yes, a ride would do him good. Too many exploits as of late were rattling his nerves. Especially the one from yesterday.
After having his home set afire, finding his wife naked in the presences of another man, then to witness what he thought to be the murder of his new bride and sister, Edward rationed that he had about all he could take in one weeks’ time. Now, to make matters worse, everyone in his house was hell bent on cheering him up! He would not have it.
He wanted his mood! To sulk when he damn well felt like it! Was that really too much to ask for after the week he had suffered? He thought naught.
The stable boy must have seen him storming toward the barn, because the lad rushed to ready the stallion. Edward heard the doors behind him open and close and knew what was coming before any of them said a word. He should have known they would even make escaping difficult.
“We are all coming with you,” Morgan proclaimed from the manor.
Edward threw his arms up in the air. “By all means.”
He turned back to find his sister, arms crossed and wearing a look of dogged determination, beside his wife. Behind them, looking like members of a mob, stood Lady Vandicamp, Alexander, his father, and Henry.
“Torture me further. After all, I am still breathing.”
He saw the pleased smile form on Morgan’s face just before he turned back to the wide-eyed groom, who had paused when he had heard the others approaching.
“Saddle seven,” Edward growled.
“Oh, I shan’t need one,” Lady Vandicamp, who had arrived the day before yesterday with his father, called out. “I just came out to see your torment, dear boy.”
The stable lad stopped and looked for confirmation from Edward. Edward held up six fingers and the boy made to run again.
“I will not be going either,” his father’s intoned merrily, to Edward’s chagrin.
Edward stopped his advancement on the stables and faced them all again. There they stood, delighting in his abuse. “I am failing to see the humor.”
“Oh, Edward.” Morgan rushed forward. “Darling, we really must hear Greyland out. If she thinks seven children is an ideal number…” She paused, her lips compressing, trying hard not to laugh. “We should really consider her logic.”
Everyone, unable to hold it together any longer, burst out laughing. Edward sealed his eyes shut even as he fought his own threatening mirth. His beautiful wife’s summary of the previous conversation back in the house was pretty spot on.
It had all started with his tenacious sister and the ever-plotting Lady Vandicamp. Even Henry, his best friend, and never one to miss an opportunity to poke fun at him, had joined in with exact specifics, regarding how to go about achieving said goal.
Alex, and his own father, had then offered their personal advice. Their much too personal advice… The conversation was only made worse when Lady Vandicamp insisted they name one of their future offspring Bertha, after her late mother.
How did they all end up at his house, anyway? Oh yes, the ball they were having in a week’s time. The one to which they would invite all their enemies.
Recalling the plot set him back on edge. He was about to put everyone he loved in the same room with possible assassins. And somehow, they were all just dandy with that notion. How on earth had he, Edward Kingston, become the practical one in his family?
He looked around him, at the people that loved him, to the point of torment. They were trying to lighten his mood. They too, were likely just as bewildered by his radical and mature new mindset as he was.
Edward took a calming breath. “I think you are all mad,” he said expansively. “But I love you and know what you are trying to do.”
“So, seven?” Morgan giggled.
He leaned down and kissed the bridge of her nose. “However many you desire, love.”
Edward could not help it. He had fallen even more head over heels in love with her over the past week. He could not keep his hands off his new bride. In hindsight, fourteen might be a more realistic number.
Edward whispered in her ear, “We can try for the first one tonight.”
He smiled when the blush spread like wildfire up her neck.
“I cannot wait, my lord.” She grinned up at him.
Edward looked over her head to the others. “Do all of you really want to go for a ride with me?”
Henry, the newest arrival from early that morning, stepped forward. “I do.”
“Anyone else?” Edward perused their faces, one by one.
He looked at Morgan and she shook her head no. “I think you and Henry should use this opportunity to get away for a bit.”
“Have I told you today how much I love you?”
“Yes. But never stop saying it.”
“I shan’t.” He held up two fingers to the very confused groom then cradled Morgan’s face in both his hands and kissed her softly. “Thank you.”
Edward cut Elkinema loose and they galloped across the sprawling fields. The cool breeze in his face, chasing the wind with thundering grace over the rise and fall of the hillside as they kicked up dirt, exhilarated him. They came to a small brook and the stallion took it with little effort. He gently pulled the horse to a stop on the other side and glanced over at his best friend.
“That is exactly what I needed.” Edward gave his best friend a lopsided grin. “Now, maybe I won’t kill you for your less-than-helpful advice on drugging my wife before our wedding night.”
“Duly noted,” Henry chortled quietly. “It is a most agreeable day to stay among the living.”
Both men drank in the quiet glen, lost to their own ponderings, at ease in the subtle stillness of the landscape.
“I never want to experience that feeling again,” Edward confessed. “Thinking something terrible had happened to her.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I felt helpless.” Edward looked over at his friend. “Now all I can think about is how easily she could be taken from me.”
“I know.” Henry’s eyes were sympathetic. “Nonetheless, you know that nothing productive has ever come from worrying over the things we cannot control.”
Edward faced the babbling brook. “It is a most peculiar turn of events; looking further down the road than simply the evening’s festivities. I feel like a…” he shook his head. “I do not think I even know how to articulate the words.”
“A responsible and proper gentleman?” Henry offered, grinning over at him.
“Exactly!”
“I must confess, I never thought I would see the day myself.”
Edward slipped off Elkinema and led him over to the creek. The horse lowered his head to drink.
“I love her, Henry,” Edward said, patting the steed’s neck. “More than I ever imagined I could. I knew I wanted her, in a way I had never wanted another. But I never knew I could truly love someone so much that it physically hurt to think of my life without them in it.”
Henry dismounted and joined Edward at the brooks edge. “You wound me.” He looked sideways at him. “Here I thought I was the only one you felt that way about.”
“You know what I mean.”
Henry grew quiet. “Sadly, I do not.”
“You will someday. When the right woman ensnares you.” Edward turned to look at his best friend when he did not respond.
Henry stared straight ahead, gazing at an unfixed point in the stream, concern marking his face. “There is something I need to tell you. Something I could not say in the presence of others.”
Edward tensed at the sudden change in tone. “Tell me what?”
Henry looked over at him. “I have kept an aspect of my life concealed from public record. Hidden from everyone. There is a part of my past that I have been too ashamed to share. Even with you.” He averted his eyes. “It was my choice to make and my burden to carry. I have never spoken of it before today.”
His friend exhaled slowly. “And the truth of it is; I would not be telling you now, if it were not for new information coming to light. Important intelligence that cannot truly be explained without me confessing all.” He looked him in the eyes. “It is paramount that you know the whole of it.”
“Henry, first of all; if one’s past dictated their future, I would be sentenced to a life in the gallows.”
Edward studied him closely, searching for answers, and beginning to grow more concerned with each passing second. The man standing before him was never one to sound despondent. Edward had his demons, but Henry was a virtual rock.
“Tell me, friend. I shall not judge you. The only anger I may harbor, is you thinking I would.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever. Edward mentally tried to prepare himself for what would follow. He reached out and placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
He was nonplused when Henry shrugged it away tensely, and turned back toward his horse. “What the hell, man,” Edward exhaled. “It cannot be that bad!”
“I do not want, or expect your pity.”
“I never said you would get it.” Edward bristled.
Henry reached into his duffel bag and paused, his back still turned. “You know I would do anything for you, right?”
He sounded so distant, a strange remorsefulness behind the words. Edward stepped closer, determined to be there for his friend, no matter what he was about to say next. Henry turned and thrust a book into Edward’s hands.
Edward stared at what appeared to be some sort of ledger. “I am sure you do not intend me to read all of this just to find out what you are going on about.”
His words sounded clipped and impatient, even to his own ears. He was growing annoyed with this circling dance. They had always been blunt, and brutally honest with one another.
“The short version reads like this.” Henry squared up to him. “All those month’s my brother was searching for me, convinced I had killed our father, I was under the employment of The Crown. As a mercenary for Lord Melbrooke.”
“Melbrooke?” Edward chorused back, disbelieving. “A mercenary?”
Henry did not have a malice bone in his body. It was as if he were talking to a complete stranger.
“Yes, all of which was done before I had even heard of your family. I was an outcast, my own brother believing the worst of me.” Henry’s voice trailed off and he looked back toward the water’s edge.
“I did very bad things for him. Things I wish I could undo. Oftentimes, I was forced to entertain dignitaries by assuming different personas, in order to obtain my information. On one occasion I even had to kill, lest my deception be discovered.”
He paused, as if waiting for the absorption of the admission, before looking at Edward again. “I severed all ties with Melbrooke after Greyland was kidnapped, but I kept a few connections that I had made along the way. In order to keep track of Melbrooke’s dealings, and his seemingly nefarious motives toward your…our family.”
Edward clutched the ledger tighter in his hands. His family never regained trust in Melbrooke, despite the friendly face they put forth, for the sake of The Crown. Could it be that his best friend had found proof? Some fashion of evidence against the man? If he had, did that mean that their family had even more to worry about now?
Edward felt like he had swallowed a rock that was now sitting in his stomach. “Please tell me this…” He quivered the ledger in his hand. “Has nothing to do with my family, and that you have not wasted precious time in conveying what you know if it does?”
“Edward, I could not share this information in your parlor with everyone present.”
“Why, damn it? Why could you not have told me?” Edward bit out. “Tell me what is in this document, now!”
"Because of the means by which I obtained the information. I know you enjoying thinking the fucking world revolves around you, but I also have a reputation to protect!” Henry snapped, nostrils flaring. “The ledger is a correspondences that states Davenport was brought here, hired by Melbrooke.”
Edward cursed, and the horses snorted and sidestepped away from him. “I knew the bastard was not back here and taking up residence beside the McGreggors strictly by chance!”
He began to pace as a sickening new thought dawned on him. His brother! “Perkin is on a mission for Melbrooke as we speak, with Thomas and Dalton!”
“I do not know what Melbrooke is planning. I only know that there can be no good reason behind setting Davenport up, and wrangling him that title of laird. However, I do have it on excellent authority that Davenport has not left his estate In Ireland since he departed London last week. Hence, he could not have lit the fires himself, but that is not to say he did not hire someone to do it for him.”
Henry continued, answering the next line of questioning before it could be asked. “Yes, I had him followed. As I am sure your father did too.”
“Bloody hell! There is no way to get word to my brother as they are on a ship.” Edward closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. “I guess that is a good thing. We can get word to him as soon as they make port.” He lifted the documents. “Is this correspondences in Melbrooke’s own hand?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“Henry, I will be asked how you came by this information. What do you want me to say?”
“Let me start with the truth. I broke into De Montrey’s after I overheard him talking with someone at a ball last week.”
Edward growled, “So De Montrey is in on this, too? Who was he talking to?”
“He is being blackmailed by someone. I do not know who, and I do not know for what. I did not get a good look at the man who threatened him. I do not think De Montrey realizes what is in that book, nor how much danger he would be in for stealing it. Especially now that he has gone and lost it.”
"He stole this?" Edward sputtered. "From Melbrooke?"
“Yes.”
“Henry…” Edward feared the answer, but he had to ask. “What is your involvement with Lord De Montrey?”
His friend turned, hands on either side of his waist as he walked away.
“Henry, please.”
Henry stopped and slowly turned back around. “The baron does not fancy woman. I led him to believe that I—that we shared the same preferences—and used him to get close enough to get the information I needed.”
Edward fought to school his features. De Montrey liked men? “You did not—” He bit his tongue. Perhaps his best friend had been hiding more than having only been a mercenary. “I mean, if you prefer the company of—”
“Good God, man!” Henry exclaimed, looking shocked. “I let him get close, but not that close! I respect you like a brother, but even I have my limits as to how far I would go to help you,” he said and guffawed.
“The fact that I let him fawn all over me was bad enough. I do not want anyone to know about my past involvement with Melbrooke. And, I definitely do not want the means by which I tricked De Montrey into trusting me being discussed.” Henry wagged a finger through the air. “Swear it to me, Edward.”
“I shall take it to my grave.” Edward nodded just as another pressing question entered his head. Why was the baron trying so hard to win over Morgan? Her dowry was not that great. “What did he want with Morgan then?”
“That, I do not know either. He confided he was being blackmailed, but I was not sticking around to interrogate further once I had the ledger.” His friend smiled wryly. “Again, I have my limits.”
The sound of carriage wheels could be heard off in the distance. Edward’s head jerked toward the noise.
“Ah, that,” Henry said. “I might have called in for back up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was not going to come here and share this without securing a better foothold.” He smirked. “I posted a note before I left.”
“A note? To whom?”
“To Windsor Palace.”
Edward brushed off his riding jacket the best he could as he and Henry made their way to the newly modified door. He disliked the idea of one of The Queen’s advisors arriving to a manor in the midst of construction. The receiving sections still smelled of smoke, but there was little be done about it now. The royal carriage had already arrived. A footman was tending to the horses as they passed.
Boswell opened the door for them with an unusual smile plastered on his face. Edward sketched a brow. Had he gotten into the sherry early tonight?
That was all Edward needed, a foxed butler. He tried to get a whiff of him as they passed over the threshold. The servant did not reek of alcohol, at least. Small blessing.
Edward could make out light laughter coming from the main study as Truman rushed to open the next set of double doors, jumping in front of Boswell. The action caused a snarl to emanate from the older of Edward’s two butlers. Those two would end up killing each other before the year was out unless Edward rectified the current situation.
What the deuced hell had he been thinking when he brought Boswell from the city. Lots of people retained separate staff at each residence, but only Edward Kingston, Earl of Wellington, had two.
Why? Because he was an idiot!
They entered the study and found Alex and Richard sitting in two wingback chairs which faced the doors. Morgan and Greyland sat just to the right on the damask sofa, and Lady Vandicamp sat directly across from them. Everyone looked at Edward and Henry expectantly.
Edward frowned. The Queen’s advisor had chosen the only seat in the room, not directly facing them. Thus remaining completely concealed behind the high back chair. Who was it? His father and Melbrooke were her closest advisors and Edward knew, from Henry’s assurance on the ride back, that Melbrooke was out of the country.
Every man in attendance rose when Edward stepped over the threshold. He nodded, and then smiled at his beautiful wife before turning his attention to his newest guest. Still seated?
The man would no doubt be important to The Queen, but no more than his own father, who had shown the expected respect of rising when the host entered the room. Just as he was about to clear his throat, in case the lord had lost some hearing…and vision…his father lifted the famous Kingston warning brow.
Edward hesitated. He had learned early on to shut up whenever that one elegant eyebrow arched high into his father’s forehead. Completely flummoxed, Edward looked around the room once more. Surely there would be some indication in everyone’s body language as to who was hiding behind that chair.
Alexander looked stately, showing no emotion whatsoever while his sister could barely keep the smile from her face. Morgan appeared slightly uncomfortable while Lady Vandicamp simply looked impatient. Edward walked farther into the room.
Eyebrows be damned! This man better start rising by the time he… No sooner did the indignation hit, the unknown gentleman started to rise.
The first thing Edward noticed was that the man seemed to be wearing a lady’s jeweled headpiece. The second visual disturbance was the ruby-red cloak that wrapped thin shoulders. The third thought he found odd was abruptly dismissed when the refined profile of Their Queen turned to face him.
Edward hit his knee to the floor, head bowed, in perfect timing with Henry. The Queen of England was in his house. The Queen of England was in his burnt house!
Richard agitated the brandy in his glass, reflecting on the events of the day as he stared into the flames crackling on the hearth. He had been set through his paces with a mix of emotions over the past two weeks. The Queen’s unexpected arrival today had almost given him a heart attack. He was not sure how many more surprises he could take regarding his beloved family.
The Queen, thankfully, wasted little time getting to the reason for her unexpected visit and had read aloud the missive she received from Henry. The letter was unexpected, but not startling. Edward’s best friend had alluded, but not outright stated, who was behind a plot against the Kingston’s and asked for their sovereign’s immediate assistance.
Richard knew Henry would do anything for Edward; he just did not know how he had been able to collect the information when Richard’s own hired professionals could not. Once Edward and Henry had finally arrived back at the manor, the puzzle began fitting together. It all began with Henry and Lord De Montrey attending the same ball last week.
At some point in the evening Henry noticed the baron entering a side study. Not long after, Henry passed by the same study and heard a ruckus coming from within. To his shock, he overheard Lord De Montrey being made the victim in an attempted blackmail. Whoever was threatening the baron was demanding he steal a ledger from Lord Melbrooke. Henry was just about to make his presence known when the mystery man told De Montrey that the ledger he needed contained damning information regarding the Kingston’s.
Henry, being a loyal family friend and loyal to His Queen, decided he needed to find out just what was in those this documents, and return them to their rightful owner. He followed the baron to the palace and watched him enter. A short while later Lord De Montrey emerged, a book under his arm, and in a hurry to get back to his personal residence.
Henry then waited outside the other lord’s townhouse, watching through the window as the baron consumed enough drink to eventually pass out drunk. Sneaking in through the servant’s door, Henry quickly located the ledger in De Montrey’s office, and purloined the book back. With noble intensions of returning it to its original owner, of course. That was until he read the treason written inside the pages of the stolen documents.
Henry realized right away that foul play was afoot, and that The Queen must be alerted to the contents of the ledger. Especially, now that it was clear Lord Melbrooke, her trusted councilmen, was using The Queen to play a perfidious game of power in Her Court.
Richard had to smile at the admission of his son’s best friend. There were more than a few gaps in his story, but Richard was not going to ask about any of them. Henry had his own reasons for relaying the story the way in which he had and it mattered not, for the outcome was the same—Melbrooke was finally exposed for the rat he was.
Richard took a sip of his drink. Perhaps one day he would dig deeper into what exactly led Henry down this path. For he was certain that simply being in the right place, at the right time, was not the truth of the matter. Obviously, his son’s friend had secrets he wished kept hidden. Richard could respect that. They all did.
Perkin, probably most of all. He drew his fingers down his jaw to the point of his chin. Secrets…
Richard knew it was more than The Queen’s love for his family that had placed her in that carriage today. He was not so old at sixty that he did not know what was going on. Richard had seen the way she looked at his eldest son, and he had heard the gossip at court.
He was just thankful that her husband chose to look the other way. Probably too busy with his own extracurricular affairs. The door opened behind him. Richard turned from the fireplace as The Queen glided in. She smiled warmly and surveyed the room before choosing her seat and nestling into it.
She patted the arm of the chair beside her. “Come sit with me, your grace, I am in need of your trusted advice.”
Richard inclined his head and joined her. “What might I advise you on tonight, Your Highness?”
Nonplussed, he watched as she cast her eyes down to stare at her clasped hands, twisting them together anxiously in her lap. Richard braced himself in preparation for what she might say next. Something told him this was more to do with Perkin than matters of state.
As if he needed more confirmation, she opened her mouth, then closed it tightly. Dear Lord, this was going to be bad.
“I am with child.”
Richard wondered if the blood was visibly draining from his face.
“What splendid news.” The sentiment could not be further from the truth.
“Yes, very,” she went on, but her eyes never lit on his. “It is just that…” She turned her head to the fire, as if it would suddenly take over the narrative and explain the rest of the sentence for her.
Richard’s mind raced. A million thoughts competed for supremacy in his head, all of them bad. He focused on the most pressing concern and clasped The Queen’s hands, drawing her gaze back to him.
“I have always given you sound advice so I must ask this of you; choose your next words carefully.” He looked her steadily in the eyes. “We both know there is nothing that can be done now. Either way. However, there is much damage that could befall us all if these next thoughts are expressed.”
She looked at him with sad eyes, searchingly. “You knew?”
Richard merely nodded and smiled weakly.
A tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away. “My country comes first.”
“And your husband,” he added.
Tears broke through the strong barricade of her lashes. “If only I had met him sooner.”
Breaking complete protocol, Richard gathered her in his arms, as if she were one of his own children. If she were not The Queen, she likely would be. “I know.”
He gently soothed her as she openly sobbed. Richard held her there until she stopped shaking. Only then did he whisper, “He mustn’t ever know.”
She looked up. “He would not keep his distance if he knew, would he?”
A piece of his heart felt like it broke off and fell to the floor, but Richard confirmed her question. “No, he would not.”
She looked at him with such extreme anguish that Richard feared she was not strong enough to carry this burden alone. His Queen was quite young, and had so much at stake. She had to see reason.
Her husband might tolerate her indiscretion, but he would not allow another man’s by-blow to sit the throne. He would no doubt find a way of removing any obstacles. Especially obstacles that would possess more royal blood than all of England stacked together.
If the child was indeed Perkin’s… How could he be so careless?
Just as Richard was about to speak, The Queen shook her head, silencing him. “I will love this child more than my own life. This baby will one day rule in my stead.”
Then, with every ounce of strength Richard knew she possessed, she rose up, a soft smile on her lips. “As it was always meant to be.”
The water’s gentle whisper became a louder, demanding voice the closer they moved to the fall’s edge. Morgan instinctively squeezed Edward’s hand as she risk a glance over the edge, then turned back to look at him. His eyes seemed to change in color, something in them deepening, taking on a more feral glow.
He stepped forward, bringing one hand behind her head and pulling her to him. The immediate heat from his body engulfed her. He kissed her hard, like the river crashing on the rocks below. Feverish; like the churning white water fighting for dominance against the edges of the solid bank.
She greedily took back from him, allowing her hands to explore the expanse of his chest. He deepened the kiss with a primal moan that vibrated down to the very core of her sex. Her legs grew shaky as he clasped his other hand around her waist, hugging her to him, claiming her with his kiss. Branding her to him, and taking every last bit of her strength.
A gentle kiss on the nape of Morgan’s neck pulled her slowly from her dream. She felt the goose bumps rise across her flesh as the second feather-soft touch skimmed the surface of her ear. From behind her, Edward’s honey-coated voice intertwined around her senses.
“You are awfully fidgety for a person asleep.” He sketched his skilled fingers up her spine slowly. “Can I help with that?”
Still wrapped in the quiet lullaby of the heated dream, caught in the blissful moment between sleep and alertness, she felt her body push back into his. Yes, this is still a dream. A dream that did nothing to rival reality. She smiled.
Her husband snaked his hand slowly over her hip bone and down her abdomen, his fingers seeking a new warmth. His other arm encircled her, his free hand roving upward to squeeze her breast. Morgan arched her back teasingly, pushing her ass against his readiness. The action elicited a guttural sound that emanated from his throat.
“God, I want you,” he growled before lifting her thigh…just enough.
She felt the silky head of his cock against her sex and moaned into her pillow, her fingers curling around the sheets in anticipation. He bit down gently, but firmly, on the back of her neck as he slowly entered her. Her body fought to quickly adjust to his consuming size.
He was always so gentle at first, as if he feared he might hurt her. But this morning Morgan intended to prove to him that she was not so fragile. She pushed back more, giving him the last few inches he needed to impale her to the hilt.
The sharp intake of his breath was all the confirmation she needed to know her message had been received. Her actions were all he needed, for he placed both hands on her hips and thrust harder into her. The sudden impact nearly sent her right over the edge. She cried out.
Edward continued the rhythmic pace until she was gasping and clinging to the edge of the bed. He moved one hand between her legs, knowing just what she needed. Her body began to tighten and tremble.
She reached back over her shoulder, her hands tangling in his hair as her face turned up to his. His mouth came down, demanding on hers. He drove into her relentlessly, over and over, until his cock swelled with his oncoming release.
He thrust one final time and filled her completely. Morgan began to shake, her muscles crying out and constricting around him as her own pleasure overtook her. She spiraled into carnal bliss as he groaned, breathless and ragged, into her ear. “Mine!”
The singular word that rolled over his tongue was as much an emotional release as the physical one. She was his. She was his in every way she could have ever hoped for.
Edward hugged her tightly to his chest and kissed the top of her head, as he always did. He was so loving, so tender. To think under all the arrogance he had first shown her was actually the most honest, caring person she had ever met. Her heart expanded in her chest.
Morgan knew he loved her and she knew he would always have her best interest at heart. The complete, sobering clarity gave her strength. She felt one solitary tear rising up in her eye.
With a blink she let it quietly roll over the barricade of her lashes. That one tear represented more than any words could ever embody. It was a release from her past fears. A tribute to a new and wonderful life in this glorious man’s world.