Lady Trent (30 page)

When it did he dismounted his horse. She
stepped out into the mid-afternoon day. They instantly embraced,
and he kissed her passionately.

“Rachel,” he said quietly. “My dearest
Rachel. How good to have you back.”

“How good it is to be back,” she returned and
tilted her head to receive another passionate kiss. He smoothed a
hand down her hair, drawing away. “I trust all went well?”

“Yes,” she and Marcus replied in unison. He
sat astride his horse, staring down upon the touching scene they
made. He offered one calm, peaceful grin. “Your wife is adored by
the majority, and I could see why. She handled herself like a
queen.”

Jacob grinned proudly at her. “I imagined
she’d already won the hearts of the majority when the event was
brought to my attention.” He studied her closely. “I imagine you
are tired.”

“Some,” she admitted. “But I slept well
during my stay.” She thanked the wine for that. Under particular
circumstances, without wine she would have otherwise tossed and
turned throughout the night.

“I cannot say the same,” he told her. “The
days were well. The evenings, long. I worried for you.” He
refocused upon Marcus. “But I should have known better than to
worry. You were in the best care…the best hands of all.”

She glanced up at Marcus, noticing how well
he covered up, probably doing a better job than she herself at that
moment. For she felt her eyes giving her away, but just for a
moment. She was able to snap to her senses and appreciate the
moment all over again.

******

Marcus heard her giggle and watched them
kiss. His eyes glistened. A combination of happiness and envy for
his friend filled his heart.

They started to walk away together, their
arms behind one another’s back. Jacob stopped to fling a hand in
the air, both a greeting and a thanks for having brought her safely
home. Marcus raised his hand as well, lowered it, and considered
which direction to take.

Southward, he decided. Yes, Southward to Port
Templeton. He would go there…and perhaps stay for a very long
time.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

But he did not stay gone long, or even travel
to Port Templeton at all to begin with. He went to Rowan, instead,
and visited Patrice who, like Marie in Port Templeton some time
back, insisted he’d actually made love to her, and for the first
time after having been intimate companions on and off the past ten
or so years.

Patrice tried to get him to stay longer, and
to reveal all of what she called the “secrets” of his heart. He
refused, not only to stay, but to say anything about anything at
all that was affecting him. She prodded, and he merely dropped a
kiss on her forehead claiming he would visit again soon.

A few hours later he was in Orland where
Roselyn had been detained the evening he’d left Rachel alone on the
terrace.

“You cannot insist this,” Sir Troy had
scolded after he’d ordered the arrest.

“I do insist it.”

“By what authority, and without the lady’s
permission?”

“By authority of Lord Trent, which rests upon
my shoulders. You will arrest her and say nothing of it to Lady
Trent. Is that understood?”

The arrest was made and kept between him, Sir
Troy, and the two guards who secretly detained her.

Upon returning, Marcus went to and entered
the prison along with the prison keeper who led the way to the
proper cell. He unlocked and opened it to reveal a tiny, unpleasant
room where Roselyn sat back to the wall, clutching her knees to
herself, face streaked with dirt and tears.

Upon seeing him, her eyes brimmed with hope.
She began to stand, grasping at the wall to pull herself up.

“Leave us,” Marcus commanded the guard,
peering at her through suspicious, slanted eyes.

“S-sir M-Marcus.” Chains rattled as shackles
had been bound about her ankles. She stood as best she could, her
body trembling quite noticeably. Her voice quivered as well when
she said, “Th-they…they took me. They took me and…and they arrested
me.” A few tears dropped from her eyes. “Have you come to take me
from here?”

His eyes glanced about the tiny cell, a
despicable little room with a horrid stench to it. But if she was
guilty at all of conspiring against Rachel or Jacob either one, she
had every right to be there.

“I am here to question you.”

She just barely shook her head. “What
questions?”

“How did you know he would be here?”

“I told you,” she softly reminded, “Lady
Trent—“

“—knew nothing about it,” he loudly finished
for her. “You lied to me.”

Her eyes rounded at the accusation. “No,” she
whispered. “No, I…I did not.”

“You did! Your mistress had never met nor
spoken to Victor Trent before that night.”

“It isn’t so.”

“It is…but obviously not the case with you.
Now I will ask you once more and once more only…how did you know he
would be present?”

“I told you,” she loudly called out, and then
slid down the wall, bowed her head and began to sob.

He stared down at her a while. He hated it
had come to this, but he had no sympathy for her. She was in the
proper position, but not exactly the proper place. This woman, he
decided, could be the very one to finally give up the answers he’d
been wanting for a very long time.

“Guard!” He called out.

The guard quickly returned. “Sir?”

“By the authority of Lord Trent, this woman
shall be transported into the Northern Isles. Three men will be
sent from the Great City within the next twelve hours. She shall be
transferred, and no mention of it shall be made, not even to Lady
Trent. I speak this under the authority of Lord Trent himself, whom
provides for the treasury at the request of the Lady, but whom may
withdraw it if by chance his orders are not followed exactly as I
have stated them.”

“Yes, sir,” he easily obliged.

Marcus stepped back. Roselyn’s dirty,
tear-streaked face tilted upward. “Sir Marcus,” she pleaded.

He simply looked at her.

“Sir Marcus.” This time her voice was even
louder. Marcus nodded at the guard. He closed the door with an
eerie clang, locking it, and the two of them stalked from the cell,
the sound of her screaming and crying out to him echoing thru the
dark passageways until the final door was closed.

******

Later that evening, he was back in the Great
City. Linus who kept charge of the horses took his horse for him,
happy to see him again. The lad looked up to him as son would a
father. It made him think of being a father…how well of one he
would be. He would train up fine sons and elegant, strong
daughters. His would be a perfect family. All except for one thing.
He would not love his wife. Perhaps in time he would learn.

Two maidens, Adelle and Tressa, saw to it a
bath was drawn for him. The palace was very quiet this time of
night, and he could not help but visualize Rachel, although where
he did not know. In her own bed? In Jacob’s?

He shook the thoughts away, thinking about
Patrice, and then his soon to be engagement, the announcement of
which he planned to make the next morning.

It was about the eighth hour of morning.
Percival explained that Jacob was dining at his table, preparing
for a venture of some sort. The guards stepped aside when he came
upon the double doors. He instantly heard the sound of laughter as
he came thru them—Rachel giggling about something or another. He
hadn’t expected to see her. At this hour Jacob normally dined
alone, simply to think over whatever matters would occupy him for
the day.

“Well, I see you have returned.” He extended
a hand to the seat at the direct left of his which Marcus did not
hesitate to take. “I do not mean to intrude,” he said, casting
Rachel a short glance. She didn’t look at him at all, but focused
upon using a knife to cut something on her plate.

“You are always welcome, Marcus. You know
this. And I know Rachel does not mind.”

“Of course not,” she agreed, looking up at
him with such a good-natured expression upon that beautiful face of
hers. Such a beautiful little performer she was. “I imagine he must
be hungry,” she went on to say. “After all, you did return
late…past midnight. My handmaiden noted so. To the best of her
knowledge you did not request anything to eat.”

“At that point I was too tired to eat,” he
said, working his way around her sarcastic comments.

“Where did you leave off too?” Jacob probed.
“You departed without a word and three days have passed.”

“I was away tending to a personal affair,” he
said, accepting the plate that was set before him, although without
any kind of appetite.

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“No,” he insisted, “not terribly.” The
servant came near. “I’ll have wine,” he ordered. He could see they
were having the same. Not that this was uncommon; the wine with the
least effect was served at such an hour. No chance of becoming
besides oneself, no, not even with several glasses.

“There is a reason I sought you out at this
hour,” he told Jacob. “I have some news.”

Jacob swallowed a drink from his chalice and
set it down. “Speaking of news…Rachel was telling me about this,
um, sudden disappearance of her handmaiden while in Orland. Do you
know anything about this?”

“I think she, herself, could attest to the
maiden’s peculiar behavior. Who is to say she did not simply make
herself available to some other cause. She was nowhere in the manor
house, nor could she be located amongst any of the people
there.”

“Well, so long as no mischief befell her. If
she did, perchance, make herself available to some other cause,
whatever that may be, so be it. But she should be accounted for. I
imagine I will hear word of her whereabouts at some point in
time…if she by chance relocates herself and it eventually becomes
known that she departed without either command or explanation. I
will be notified to answer whether she may have perchance escaped
any punishment due her in the case a crime was committed.” He
looked up at Rachel. “Peculiar behavior? You should have made a
complaint.”

She had swallowed a drink of wine, and
audibly, although quietly, cleared her throat. “I merely overlooked
her, milord. But I suppose it is well that she is gone. I only hope
she was safe in departing and not mishandled in any way.”

“Word will eventually come around of her
whereabouts.” He took a bite from his fork, lowered it and thought
for a moment. “What is this news you have?”

Marcus stared at his goblet, toying with its
stem with his long, lean fingers. During the silence, without even
looking at the man, he could see Jacob’s brows drawing together…see
his lips pressing with a frown.

“Well?” He urged. “I had hoped the report
would be a good one. Judging by your expression it is not.”

“It is, yes, but in a way I am afraid it may
not be all around.”

“You needn’t keep me waiting any longer. Say
what you must.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair. “It is
well,” he told him, “Although it will change things, this turn of
events, in such a way that must be adapted to.”

“Well?” Jacob seriously urged when he paused
a second time.

“I am engaged to be wed,” he told him, “to
Elizabeth of Wescott.”

“Engaged,” Jacob repeated after him. A deep
grin touched his lips. “I would call that good news.” He looked at
Rachel. “Did you hear that? Marcus is engaged to be wed.” He
transferred his gaze back to Marcus. “Congratulations, my friend.
She is quite beautiful, and it is well known that her sisters, like
their mother, upon wedding produced fine, strong sons for their
husbands.” He raised a hand to slowly caress his chin. “When did
this come about?”

“It was proposed the beginning of the year. I
had declined, and then ignored it altogether. I recently accepted.
The wedding will be early Fall.”

“This is very good news, Marcus. After all,
life does pass so quickly. A man needn’t refuse marriage past the
age of thirty-five. You have travelled the world and certainly done
your part, paid your dues. To settle and become a family man…this I
find a reasonable and valuable decision.” He focused upon Rachel.
“Isn’t that good news.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It is good news.” She
took up her glass and raised it in the air to propose a toast. “To
love,” she said, peering into Marcus’s eyes, “and many years of
it.”

Together they drank. Marcus knew, of course,
that she was being sarcastic. What else? For to propose a toast to
love after he had admitted he did not love Elizabeth in the
slightest…well, what other motives could she have for proposing to
the very thing he’d denied? And that gleam in her eyes…it was all
so obvious to him that she resented him. For what cause? Did she
expect he should be single for the sake of the secret lusts between
them? Lust. Merely lust. Lust that could never be acted upon. Yes,
there was more basis for this resentment than her concern for her
husband. It was quite obvious to him, even now as she peered at him
from over the rim of her glass, as if caring not that she could be
spotted at any given time.

But it would not be evident to Jacob, for the
expression upon her face was a simple one. Marcus would not have
imagined she could do so well at pretending to be something she was
not…which at this moment was at complete ease. She was not content
with this news and he knew it.

“Tell me, my friend, where will you settle?
Wescott? Port Quill? Perhaps Harvard Plains? It is my understanding
the emperor wishes to soon appoint a noble over the northern
portions of the Western Commons.”

“Something else I wished to speak to you
about. While I was away, I made arrangements and orders to begin
construction for a manor house, as large and decent as can possibly
be built in such a short span of time. As we speak, the process is
under way. In the future, I will plan for something nobler. Maybe a
castle. The castle of Emwark has always intrigued me.”