The carriage ride to the Serenian capitol of Boreas was an agony unto itself. Wheels never missing a single rock or rut, the vehicle rambled along at a pace any tortoise could outrun. With the suspension squeaking like a banshee and the ripe smell of horse shit that wafted into the window, it made for a particularly unpleasant journey.
“How is your leg doing?” Lord James inquired. He was sitting beside Declan’s father for they had reasoned he might need the room to stretch out.
“It only hurts when I flex my knee,” Declan answered. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk but that was all of which Lord James seemed capable.
“Then don’t flex your knee,” his father said drolly.
Grinding his teeth, Declan laid his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. Mayhap he could sleep now that the sun was down and the air cooler. They were two hours or more from Boreas and he was surprised at how tiring the trip was proving to be.
* * * * *
Althea stared at herself in the mirror and hated what she saw. She didn’t like the hairdo for it made her face look too plump. She didn’t like the color of the gown for it made her look too pale. The cut of the gown was worse for it made her look as though she was with child.
Which she was.
Her eyes grew bright with the tears that seemed to come at the drop of a hat these days.
She’d thought her monthly had been delayed because of the stress of Declan nearly getting killed, of helping to care for him, of having him reject her so brutally. The fatigue was easily explainable because she’d spent many a sleepless night worrying about him then crying over his refusal to accept her love. She’d barely paid attention to her tender, swollen breasts or the need to make more visits than normal to relieve herself. There’d been no morning sickness to alarm her. It wasn’t until the strange cravings for food she’d never liked began that she started to worry. She devoured kumquats and sour pickles by the bowlful. Tossed down candy and inhaled pastries by the dozens. Such gluttony had surely caused the weight gain that made most of her gowns unwearable. But it was the sudden aversion to foods she’d always enjoyed immensely that sent her to the healer.
Five months, Your Grace, the healer announced with a grimace.
But how can that be? she’d asked.
There is only one way I know that would cause a pregnancy, Your Grace, he stated.
Sweet Merciful Morrigunia, she’d said with a groan and put her hands over her face.
She’d told no one, though she was sure her lady’s maid, Ermaline, knew. How could she not?
That one time. One time, she thought, that she had lain with Declan.
That was all it took, Your Grace, the healer said on a long sigh.
The conversation she’d had with Declan at Jack’s cottage came back to taunt her:
What is this liquid at the tip?
Semen. The seed of life.
Your seed. Seed that would get me with child. I am not ready yet for a child, Highwayman.
Then when the time comes, I will not spend my seed within you. On my honor, I will not.
That would work?
For centuries that is all that has been used by many couples, he replied. I cannot swear it works every time but it is my understanding that it does most times.
It is the chance we take. It will not matter once we are wed.
What?
We will marry eventually.
Milady, I have no inclination to marry.
No, indeed, he did not. At least no inclination to marry her. Bess? Well, that was another matter altogether, now, wasn’t it?
She lowered her hands and looked at the missive she had received from the man she had put on Penry’s trail. He’d found Penry.
And the woman who was living with him.
* * * * *
He was dreaming of that first night—that only night—he had held Althea in his arms. The night she had given herself to him. The night he had taken the most precious of gifts from her. He had been her first and she had wanted him to be her last.
We will marry eventually, she’d said.
Time swirled forward—capturing them in its vortex and when the spinning stopped he knew her words were coming to fruition this dreamed night.
Gone was the cottage and in its place the chapel at Boreas Keep where dozens of celebrants had gathered to witness the Joining of Declan Farrell and Althea Standfield.
Standing beside him on his left side were his father and mother—back from the watery depths and smiling happily upon him. Jack was on his right—which was proper for the best man.
Suddenly there came the soft tinkle of silver bells. He turned his head to look up the aisle and there she was—so beautiful she took his breath away.
In a sparkling silver gown upon which row after row of diamonds had been stitched in chains from high bodice to hem. With soft silver-colored slippers peeking out from beneath that scalloped hem with each step she took toward him.
Toward him.
No other.
Him.
What a lucky man he was to have this beautiful, loving woman smiling upon him, coming to him. Willing to take him as her mate.
Without questions.
Without judgment.
Without regret.
Her slender arm was tucked into the crook of her father’s arm and on her other side walked a woman he had never met, never seen, but she, too, had come back from the Afterlife to celebrate her daughter’s Joining day.
“It is now the designated hour of Joining,” the emissary called out. “Who comes to seek the blessings of the gods on this ritual?”
“I, Lord Declan James Farrell, Duke of Dungannon, have come to seek the gods’ blessings,” he stated.
The emissary nodded. “And who has come to Join with this man?”
“I, Lady Althea Anne Standfield, Countess of Edgerton have come to the Joining.”
Looking to the lovely woman standing beside Althea, the Emissary: “Can you vouch for your purity, Lady Althea Anne?”
“This man is my first,” she answered.
The emissary frowned at her choice of words then asked, “Is there anyone who has reason to believe this Joining should not take place or that it would be invalid?”
No one spoke out against the Joining and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Lord Declan James,” the emissary asks. “Do you willingly give yourself to this woman?”
“With all my heart and all my soul and all my being. I pledge myself only unto her. What is mine will be hers.”
“Lady Althea Anne, do you willingly give yourself to this man without reservation, without protest?”
“With all my heart and all my soul and all my being. I pledge myself only unto him. What is mine will be his.”
“The Questions were asked. The Questions were answered. Now this man and this woman will kneel before us in obedience to the wishes of their gods. Here, before us, they will pledge themselves only unto one another. One flesh, one inseparable entity, until the end of time. Once mated, never separated.”
“I speak now to those of you who have come here to bear witness to this Joining. Let those of you who see this ritual know—In the eyes of his god, through dispensation given to him by Tribunal Law, with the permission of his father and King, and the blessings of this woman’s parents and sovereigns, in the presence of his peers, and at the jurisdiction of my hands given by authority as a prelate of the Brothers of the Wind, I declare Lord Declan James bound by laws both preternatural and temporal, to submit himself to this Joining.”
Jack stepped forward with a silken pillow upon which rested two broad gold bands. After removing his shirt, Declan held his hand out to Althea. She took it and he helped her to kneel at the feet of the emissary before joining her.
“This man and this woman now kneel before the gods and man in obedience to the wishes of Alel. Here, before the gods and man, they will pledge themselves only unto one another. One flesh, one inseparable entity, until the end of their lives.”
The emissary lifted the gold bands and held them up for all to see. He smiled down at them.
“The outward sign of your union, your link to one another, your eternal reminder that you are now responsible to another for your actions, is the Band of Devotion that will be placed on each of you by your fathers. With this symbol, you will be joined for all time. Let all who witness the placement of these bands know: You are one to another, forever as one, never to be parted by anything, or anyone, under penalty of death.”
The emissary handed him the smaller of the two bands. Althea held out her arm and he slid the golden band onto her arm.
Althea took the larger band and placed it upon his arm.
Holding his hands over their heads, the emissary looked to the heavens.
“As this woman has agreed to become one with this man, a part of him, so shall these bands be a part of you. As your wife and your husband may not be taken from you, so shall these bands never be removed. They are the symbols of eternal union blessed by the gods, sanctioned by ancient law, acknowledged and accepted and witnessed by those gathered and given to you by my own hands as a representative of the gods on this earth.”
At a nod from the emissary, he got to his feet and held out his hand to help Althea to hers.
“With all my heart and all my soul and all my being I pledge myself only unto you, Althea Anne. What is mine will be yours. You, I have chosen of mine own freewill and without reservation or protest. I will walk the day and sleep the night at your side and at no other’s. I pledge myself only unto you for as long as there is life for us both. I will be, forever, your true mate in word and deed. We are one flesh, one inseparable entity and until the end of time, once mated, never separated.”
Althea’s smile was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her low, sweet voice as she repeated the Joining Vows to him brought tears to his eyes.
“With all my heart and all my soul and all my being I pledge myself only unto you, Declan James. What is mine will be yours. You, I have chosen of mine own freewill and without reservation or protest. I will walk the day and sleep the night at your side and at no other’s. I pledge myself only unto you for as long as there is life for us both. I will be, forever, your true mate in word and deed. We are one flesh, one inseparable entity and until the end of time, once mated, never separated.”
“With the power invested in me by gods and man, it my honor to pronounce you Joined. You may partake of your wife’s lips, Lord Declan,” the emissary declared.
One moment they were standing in the chapel at Boreas and the next they were in a bedchamber lit by dozens of white tapers. The air was perfumed with gardenia and a fire crackled in the wide hearth. Rose petals adored the pristine white coverlet upon their marriage bed. On the bedside table were two flutes of sparkling Francachi champagne and a bowl of plump red strawberries.
“Milady,” he whispered against her lips.
“My husband,” she replied.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. As he walked her gown simply dissolved—as did his wedding finery. Dipping a knee to the mattress, he laid her down gently then straightened to look down at her lush body.
“Mine,” he said.
“Yours,” she agreed.
His hand was shaking as he reached down to touch the sweet flesh of her breast. He ran his thumb over the firm peak and his cock leapt with expectation. She turned to her side to face him and patted the bed beside her.
“You were not so shy at the cottage, milord. Why are you now?”
“I’m not, milady,” he replied.
She opened her arms to him. “Then come and service your woman, highwayman.”
He swung his leg over her, stretched his body atop hers and lowered his head to slant his mouth hungrily across hers. She opened her lips to meet his tongue thrust for thrust as he reached down to take hold of his cock.
“Umm,” she said beneath his kiss then arched her hips to meet his firm invasion. When he was inside her—buried deep and throbbing—she lifted her legs to wrap them firmly around his waist.
Slow, easy, swiveling his pelvis against hers, he withdrew and advanced. Withdrew and advanced. Slid his groin up hers, ran his hands under her ass and jerked her to him with one savage, possessive move.
“Declan!”
He snapped his eyes open. For a moment he had no idea where he was. It was dark but all around him was the sound of creaking and some sort of rolling motion.
“Get your hand off your body, boy.”
That was his father’s demanding voice and he sat up so quickly the pain in his thigh made him cry out.
And his throbbing, hard-as-a-rock cock push painfully against his breeches. He snatched his hand back for it was wrapped around that cock over the shield of the doeskin material.
It took him only a few seconds more to realize he was in a rolling carriage with his father and godfather looking at him with amusement.
“Dear gods,” he mumbled, shamed to his very core. He covered his erection as best he could with his crossed palms.
“Happens to the best of us, son,” Lord James said—lips twitching—before turning his head to look out the window.
“Of whom were you dreaming, Declan?” his father inquired. He leaned forward. “Or should I ask which one of them glided through your dreams?”
He refused to take the bait. In the darkness he couldn’t make out his father’s features once the old man leaned back in his seat for he was on the shadowed side of the coach. Lord James’s face, however, was lit the rays of the new moon. There was humor lurking there.
“How far do you think we are from Boreas, Lord James?” he inquired.
“A hand pull or two, I should think,” his father quipped.
Lord James was chuckling as he kept his profile to Declan.
“I am bored,” his father said. “What shall we talk about, Jamie?”
“Whatever pops up,” Lord James said.
“All right,” Declan hissed. “I’ve been duly chastised, milords.”
“Fair play to you, lad,” Lord James replied.
“Needs to get laid,” his father stated. “I’m sure there will be ladies at court who will be quite happy to take matters in hand.”
“I believe Deckie has that already covered,” Lord James said drily.
“The devil take the both of you,” Declan snapped and pointedly ignored them the remainder of the way.
* * * * *
The Central Hall of Boreas Keep was a wonder to behold. As Declan looked down on it from the balcony, he marveled at the beauty of the rich tapestries and the intricate marble floor, which bore the Great Seal of the Serenian Kings. Each successive king’s name was stamped in gold leaf on individual round stones circling the hallmark and sealed beneath multiple layers of resin. Above the Great Seal was a multi-paned skylight that cast a greenish glow from its stained-glass panels. The furniture was elegant and bold and shone richly with polish. Scattered about the marble floor were expertly crafted Arabach rugs in intricate jewel-hued patterns.
For centuries the magnificent palace had been home to the McGregor Clan. Jack liked to joke that he was one of the many illegitimate sons of the last McGregor king—at last count there were over forty—but in actuality there was no kinship between him and the crown. Each time Declan stepped foot in the keep he thought of Jack sitting upon the great throne and laughed.
“What do you find funny?” his father asked as they were being shown to their suite of rooms.
“I was thinking of Jack,” he answered.
A grunt was the only comment his father made.
When they reached the room that had been assigned to him, the servant stopped, opened the portal and bowed. “Your chambers, Your Grace,” he stated.
“Be quick about getting ready,” his father told him. “I would like to make an entrance with you at my side for a change.”
“And please do try not to limp, boy,” Declan mumbled under his breath.
“I heard that,” his father snapped before waving the servant on.
There was a second servant who entered the room behind Declan. That man was carrying the weekend bag Iverson had packed for him—including the formal attire that would be required for the Harvest Ball.
“I can unpack,” Declan told him. He was anxious to be alone and wanted the stranger gone.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” the servant said but his pursed lips gave mute evidence of his censure. He quietly withdrew, closing the door gently behind him.
He stared at the weekend bag for a long time then growled. The last thing he wanted to do—felt like doing—was mix and mingle with a bunch of stuffy aristocrats and royalty. But Althea was here and he needed to speak with her. In his father’s pocket were the nullification papers that would put an end to their engagement.
And he wasn’t altogether sure that was what he wanted.
* * * * *
The perfumes. The colognes. The pomades. The garishly dressed nobles chittering away like anxious squirrels. Liveried servants making the rounds with silver trays upon which sat flutes of champagne and dishes of exotic hors d’oeuvres. A three-string quartet in the corner playing classical pieces as the known gossips milled about from group to group.
Boring, he thought, drawing the word out in his mind.
He’d been surreptitiously searching for Althea among the throng but had yet to spy her. He’d seen her father, but the man had taken one look at him then pointedly turned his back. No wondering what Lord Alastair thought of him.
It was overly warm in the ballroom so the doors to the garden were open wide. A few gentlemen were on the flagstone patio smoking their cheroots, chuckling over the latest folly among the elite or discussing clandestine business affairs.
“Lord Declan, is it?” a man asked.
Declan turned and stiffened as he saw the bright red uniform, the golden epaulets adorning wide shoulders, a pristine white cravat and row upon row of gleaming medals on his chest.
“And you are Captain Rand Gunderson, Duke of Stybiorne,” he muttered.
The tall bastard actually clicked the heels of his highly polished black boots together and bowed slightly. “I am, but please, I am not fond of titles. I find them rather silly and pretentious. Don’t you?”
Declan shrugged, took a sip of the wine. He looked about the room, hoping the man would take the hint and leave him be. Apparently that wasn’t going to be the case.
“I hear you feel the same,” Rand pressed. He grinned. “The truth now.”
“I suppose I do,” Declan reluctantly conceded.
“So please call me Rand. May I call you Declan?”
He shrugged again. “Whatever tugs on your chin strap, old boy,” Declan answered.
Laughter parted Gunderson’s lips to reveal strong, white teeth. The merriment crinkled the corners of his green eyes.
“I was told you had a wicked sense of humor.”
“Glad you found it amusing,” Declan muttered.
“Actually, I’m told we have quite a bit in common,” Rand stated, folding his arms over his chest full of medals.
Trying not to let his irritation show, Declan turned his eyes to the man. “Is that so?”
“You were a Royal Marine.”
“I never considered myself a Royal Marine. I was forced into the military,” Declan grumbled, looking toward his father.
“As was I.”
Declan shot him a surprised look.
“True,” Rand told him, one hand up as though making an oath. “My father thought it would make me grow up. Teach me to be a man. Curb the wild streak he believed might one day be my downfall.”
“I’ve heard that song and dance before,” Declan acknowledged with a snort.
“I thought you might have,” Rand replied. “We have other things in common as well.”
“Do tell,” Declan said.
“I have a keen like for cocked hats and velvet coats,” Rand said with a lift of his left eyebrow. “Especially those of a darker red hue.”
That sent a cautioning tremor through Declan. He narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you be careful in claiming that, milord,” he warned.
“May I ask why?”
“People might believe you to be the highwayman who dresses in that fashion,” Declan replied.
“But the Gypsy is dead, is he not?” Rand asked. “And buried in your family plot if memory serves.”
Declan felt a muscle bunch in his cheek. “Daniel Rees was a good friend.”
“Indeed he was. It is a rare and honorable man who would give his life—and reputation—for a friend,” Rand said, looking over the rim of his wineglass. “Don’t you agree?”
“Where exactly is this conversation heading, Gunderson?” Declan asked.
“Here and there and yonder,” Rand replied. “We have so very much in common as we’ve already discovered.” He smiled. “Such as the dual fondness we share for the same beautiful young lady here tonight.”
“If you are speaking of Lady Althea...”
“I am,” Rand interrupted then grinned. “You know I am.”
“If you are asking my permission to call upon the lady...”
“I don’t need your permission to court the lady in question. It is my understanding the marriage contract between the two of you has been vacated. That being the case, you no longer have any hold on the lady, but I would like your blessing to court her”
Declan smiled then leaned in close. “Well, you won’t get it,” he said before bumping his shoulder against the other man’s and limping away with his jaw clenched.
* * * * *
Althea had been watching the exchange from the balcony. She had spied Rand’s bright red uniform coat among the swarm of russet, green, gold and brown coats and gowns—the colors of harvest required for this particular ball. There were other military men strolling about but none as tall or elegant or wide of shoulder as Rand Gunderson.
Nor could she miss the only man there dressed in his usual jet-black attire from shirt to cravat to coat to breeches. Leaning against the balcony rail she observed the way they responded to one another.
“Not good,” she thought.
Though Rand was laughing, seemed perfectly at ease, there was something not quite right about the way he was staring at Declan. As for Declan…
Could a man stand any stiffer? Give off nearly as much animosity and hostility? She’d come to know him rather well over the weeks of his convalescence and thus could tell when he was being antagonistic. Expressing his natural aggression.
Sighing heavily, she turned from the balcony and headed for the stairs. She had to speak to him though it was the last thing she actually wanted to do. She had come to the ball to try to get over him, but after what she had learned from the investigator, he had a right to know the outcome of the search for Penry. That Declan had come to the ball had surprised her when her father told her. His being there seemed as though it was fated.
As she descended the stairs, she saw him slam his shoulder into Rand and mentally groaned. She feared the deliberate insult would anger Rand, but then she saw him turn his head toward Lord James Giddens and grin widely. Lord James laughed and held up a thumb.
“What is that about?” she asked.
“Beg pardon?” a gentleman coming up the stairs inquired.
She forced a smile to herself. “Just talking to myself, Lord Frazier,” she said with a slight inclination of her head. She continued down the stairs trying to interpret that look between Lord James and Rand.
Declan had disappeared from view by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. He had a way of doing that, she thought with exasperation. Like a phantom gliding furtively between the trees in the forest.
“He’s on the patio.”
She jumped at the voice and jerked around to find Rand standing behind her. He offered her his arm and she took it without thinking. He covered her hand with his and squeezed lightly, his merry green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Shall we make the foolish twit jealous, milady?” he asked.
“I think not,” she said, frowning at him. “It is never wise to poke a bear with a sore paw.”
“What harm would it cause?” he inquired. “He has set you free, has he not?”
Hearing him say that hurt so badly she wanted to cry.
“Is that what you and he were discussing when I saw you together?”
“In part,” he replied. “I asked for his blessing to court you.”
She stared at him. “You did what?”
“I don’t believe he took well to my request,” he told her.
“Oh?” she asked. Suddenly her heart was pounding as she waited breathlessly for his answer. “What did he say?”
Instead of answering, he began walking her toward the open garden door.
“Milord, I don’t think this is such a good idea,” she said.
“It is a lovely night,” he stated. “Mayhap the last we’ll have before the winter winds come howling. We should enjoy every moment of it.”
With perfect clarity she knew what he was doing. She suspected he was in league with Lord James but what they were trying to accomplish was sure to backfire. Declan did not want her, did not want the Joining. No doubt he had in his possession the signed papers that vacated the marriage contract. He would most likely present them to the king before he returned the Arlington.
“Relax, milady,” Rand said. “You are supposed to be enjoying yourself with a handsome suitor who has eyes only for you.”
She looked up at him. “You are the very devil aren’t you, Rand Gunderson?”
“I can be,” he granted. “And there is our target.”
She had already seen Declan standing by himself in the shadows. The light from a torch lit his profile as he leaned negligently against a stone column and stared out into the darkened garden.
“Mayhap a stroll down the pathway to the fountain,” Rand suggested and began escorting her in that direction.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Declan look their way and—just like that—the stiffness returned to his stance. He straightened, pulled his shoulders back. She could feel his eyes boring into her.
“He’s watching,” Rand said quietly.
“What are we doing, Rand?” she whispered.
“I’ll show you,” he replied and stopped. Before she knew what he was about, he swept his arm around her, pulled her to him and swept his head down to claim her lips.
Even from the distance that separated her and Declan she heard the low growl. Felt Rand’s answering chuckle as he thoroughly kissed her. If her heart wasn’t already lying at the feet of a certain former highwayman, she could have been swept away with the kiss that had taken possession of her mouth.
There was a clearing of throat then an apologetic voice interrupting the kiss. “Ah, excuse me, Captain Gunderson?”
Gunderson released her and turned. “Aye?” he snapped.
“My apologies, sir, but the king’s minister would like a word with you,” a man in the dark blue uniform of the king’s elite guard replied.
“Now?” Rand demanded. “Can you not see I am having a private discussion with my lady?”
Another low growl from the shadows made Althea look that way. She could not see him, but she knew Declan was there.
“I do apologize, sir, but Lord Wynth intimated it was quite urgent that he speak with you.”
“Oh, for the love of the gods,” Rand grumbled. “All right. Lead on.” Stepping back, he took her hand, kissed it. “Milady, duty calls.”
“I understand,” she said.
He winked. “I will return as soon as I can.”
“I shall be here waiting,” she replied.
She watched him walking behind the elite guard and decided to venture further into the depths of the secluded garden. At the end of the lush grounds she spied the sea gate. Beyond the elaborate wrought iron she caught just a glimmer of the North Boreal Sea. Pulling her shawl about her shoulders, she took the path, which led to the gate.
Once there, she reached out to touch a late-blooming rose on one of the twin bushes that flanked the wrought-iron barrier.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
She hadn’t heard him, but she had been expecting him to join her.
“I am not alone,” she said though she did not look up at him.
“Your escort has left you so,” he reminded her.
“I am not alone because you are with me,” she replied softly.
“He was not much of a gentleman to leave you out here to fend for yourself,” he snapped and she realized he was clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Mayhap he knew I would be fine until his return,” she suggested.
“Nevertheless he should not have…”
“Your thigh is better?” she interrupted, still not looking at him.
“I’m sorry?” he asked.
“I asked if your thigh is better. I see you aren’t using your cane.”
He put his hand over the area where the wound was. “It pains me from time to time but not enough to warrant the cane.”
“That’s good to know. I am relieved that is the case.”
She was watching the moonlight turning the seashore a beautiful shade of gold but was keenly aware that he had moved closer to her. When he put a hand beside her to grip one of the wrought-iron bars on the sea gate she could almost feel his warm breath on her neck.
“You look lovely tonight,” he told her.
“Thank you, milord.”
“You are happy?”
She looked up at him. “As happy as a woman can be when her heart is broken.”
“Thea, I am…”
“I like the beard you are growing,” she interrupted. “It makes you look as dangerous as you really are.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Thea, that…”
“Did you sign the papers?” she asked, turning her face to the sea once more. “I did.”
“I saw,” he said and she thought she heard disapproval in his tone.
Or wanted to hear it.
“Did you bring them with you to present to the king?”
“I didn’t sign them,” he stated.
Her heart leapt in her chest. “May I ask why not?”
“I wanted to talk to you first,” he replied.
“What is there to say?”
“Will you look at me?” he asked.
She steeled herself to look again into that handsome, manly face. What she saw there surprised her.
“I wanted to thank you for helping take care of me when I was so ill,” he said.
That wasn’t what she was expecting and—truth be told, she thought—it made her gods-be-damned mad.
“It is nothing I wouldn’t have done for any other wounded man,” she stated, holding his gaze. Not giving anything away as she looked at him.
He actually flinched and his eyes shifted away from hers as though she’d cut him to the core.
“You know how to put a man in his place, don’t you, milady?” he asked.
“Is that all you wanted to speak with about, then?” she queried.
He shook his head. “No.”
“There is more?”
“I wanted to apologize for what I said to you that day. I ask your forgiveness for my actions. I know it is no excuse for my appalling behavior but I was hurt that you and Jack had not told me about…”
“I actually have information regarding that issue,” she said, cutting him off. “When you return to Arlington you will find a letter I wrote to you before we left for Boreas, but since you are here, I will relate what it is in the letter.”
“What issue?” he asked, frowning.
“The man I hired to find Penry came to Standfield Hall the morning we were leaving to come to the palace. He found Penry in Ionary at Guilder’s Cay.”
Declan’s eyes widened. “Was he…?”
“She is with him,” she told him. “Alive and well as far as the investigator could tell.”
That seemed to anger him more than appease his worry. He reached up to rake his free hand through his hair. “Is she happy?”
“I did not ask him if that was the case but he did ascertain through speaking with the villagers that Penry is not mistreating her in any way. They were seen walking along the shore with her arm through his.”
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.
“There is something you should know,” she said. “She is with child.”
He jerked and staggered back as though she’d hit him with a wooden club. “What?” he asked.
“I presume it is yours for the investigator said she was showing quite nicely, as he put it,” she said and hoped he did not see her digging her fingernails into her palms.
“Pregnant?” he questioned. He let go of the iron bar and turned away from her. “She’s pregnant?”
“It would seem so, aye,” she said. She wanted desperately to tell him of her own condition but she would not lay that upon his platter now. He seemed stricken hearing of Bess’s impending motherhood. At that moment he didn’t need to know the tavern girl’s child was not the only one of his making coming into the world.
There was a wrought-iron bench sitting cater-cornered to the gate and he sat down heavily upon it with his hand over his mouth as though to keep at bay the words struggling to get out.
“Will you be going to Ionary?” she asked.
“I don’t have a choice. I’ll not let that bastard raise my child,” he said.
“The investigator said he went to the church in the village and spoke to the priest. No banns have been read in regards to the Joining of William Tucker and Maire Belvoir, the names she and Penry are using.”
“So he isn’t going to marry her,” he said.
“I guess not.”
“He would let the babe be born a bastard.”
“Would you want him to give his name to your child?” she quizzed.
“Hell, no,” he snarled.
“Then that leaves you to do the right thing by her and your child,” she said, her soul aching so badly it was all she could do not to drop to the ground and wail.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands on his forehead. “This is wrong—so wrong—on so many levels,” he whispered.
“When will you be leaving?”
“Tonight,” he answered. He lifted his head to look at her and she thought she saw—nay, wanted to see—anguish twisting his features. “I’ll sign the papers before I go.”
That news nearly dropped her to her knees but she managed to keep her voice steady and the tears from forming in her eyes.
“Then I wish you gods’ speed, Declan,” she said.
She ran her gaze over his beautiful face then turned and hurried away before the tears could fall.