Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles (27 page)

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Authors: Kate Pearce

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles
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She hurried past the open doorway of a room where several men lounged around playing cards or drinking. One of the men called out to her and made a crude remark, but she ignored him. She thought she caught a glimpse of Rhys’s distinctive auburn head bent over a harp, but she couldn’t be sure.
At last they reached another door watched over by a royal guard. Verity waited while her companion banged on the door and then went in without her. A moment later he reappeared and beckoned her forward.
“You may enter, my lady.”
Verity swallowed hard and stepped through the doorway. King Henry was attired in only his nightshirt and a heavy open-fronted embroidered robe worn over it. He sat in a massive oak chair by the empty fireplace and beckoned her forward.
“Lady Verity.”
Verity sank into a deep curtsy and then crossed the room to the king. He held out his hand and she curtsied again and kissed his fat ringed fingers.
“I apologize for disturbing you, sire, but there is an important matter I wish to discuss with you.”
“And what might that be, my lady?” The king looked suspiciously around his shadowed bedchamber. “Don’t tell me that those cursed Vampires are about to attack me again.”
“No, sire.” Verity hesitated. “I am more concerned about the queen.”
The king’s ruddy complexion went purple and his hands clenched on the arms of his chair. “The
queen
?”
“I fear there are Vampires around her who mean her harm.”
“Then they must be stopped immediately!”
Verity winced at the king’s roar. “I know that, sire, and I intend to deal with them.” She took a deep breath. “Have you thought about removing the queen to Hampton Court more promptly, sire? That would keep her away from the majority of the court, and I will be able to guard her more closely.”
King Henry scowled. “Have you spoken of this matter to the queen?”
“No, sire. I did not wish to worry her. I thought to seek your advice first.”
“Do not tell her anything unless you absolutely must.” The king got slowly to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace. “She needs all her strength to deliver my son into this world.”
“Then you will persuade her to leave for Hampton Court immediately, sire?”
The king stared down at her. “Persuade her? I am the king. I will command her obedience.” He pointed his finger at Verity. “And you will kill every single one of those cursed Vampires who threatens her, or I will have your head. Do you understand me?”
Verity gulped and dropped into another curtsy. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I will speak to the controller of the queen’s household and make sure that things move more speedily. Is there anything else?”
Verity considered the king. “Might I also suggest that you limit those who are allowed to visit her, sire?”
“Who exactly are you concerned about, Lady Verity?”
“The Seymour family and their retinue.”
“You wish me to stop the queen from seeing her own family?”
“Not stop, sire, merely limit the time they spend with the queen, particularly at night.”
“When the Vampires come out.”
“Exactly, sire.”
The king sat back down. “You will tell me which members of the Seymour family you suspect.”
Verity hesitated. “I fear you won’t believe me, sire.”
The king’s brows drew together. “Are you suggesting that one of the Seymours is a
Vampire
?”
“No, sire.” At least that was true and avoided delving into the peculiar bond Lord Thomas Seymour had with Janus. “But I believe they might be harboring a dangerous Vampire in their retinue.”
“Then I will order them to dismiss all their servants.”
“Which might panic the Vampire into striking out against the queen,” Verity said. “Could we not keep this between us?” She met the king’s hard stare. “I swear we will defeat this Vampire.”
“It seems that I have no choice but to trust you, Lady Verity, but do not fail me.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She curtsied, her hand on her heart. “I promise I will die myself before I allow the queen or your child to be harmed in any way.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, my lady. I would hate to see the death of such a beautiful woman as yourself.” King Henry gestured at her to rise. “We will keep this between ourselves. Good night, my lady.”
“Good night, Your Majesty.”
 
 
“Does it not bother you?”
Rhys glanced up from his harp and found himself facing the fair-haired Welshman he’d fought—the Vampire from Lord Thomas Seymour’s retinue.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That the king is busy swiving your sweetheart?”
Rhys slowly put down his harp, all his senses on alert. His shoulder ached like the devil. Had this Vampire been made by the same master? Did blood call to blood?
“I have no sweetheart, and the king may swive whom he pleases.”
“She means nothing to you, then?”
Rhys stood up and realized that his opponent was slightly shorter than he. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Lady Verity Llewellyn, as she calls herself. She is a luscious armful, is she not?”
“I prefer not to discuss the lady in your foul presence.”
For some reason the Vampire seemed to find that amusing. He switched into Welsh. “That lady is currently in the king’s bedchamber. Didn’t you see her pass by?” The Vampire grinned, showing the tips of his fangs. “I wonder whether she pretends to enjoy the king fucking her and what she hopes to gain from it.”
Although they were far from alone in the king’s withdrawing room, Rhys brought his dagger up. “Do not speak of my lady so.”
“Ah, now she is your lady. Your wanton, more like. Did she grow tired of you, Vampire slayer, and offer herself to the king?”
Rhys drew back his hand to strike, but the Vampire moved even faster and set his fingers over the wound on Rhys’s left shoulder. Rhys fought a gasp as pain surged through his body.
“You cannot fight me.” The Vampire laughed and released Rhys. His fingers were now bloody and he licked them. “You are already doomed.”
Before Rhys could respond, the Vampire disappeared. Rhys looked around the room, but no one seemed to have noticed anything untoward. He reached up to touch his left shoulder and winced.
Coldness settled in his gut as he contemplated his future. It seemed his death was almost assured. The weakness he was suffering would either make him vulnerable in a fight or kill him outright. He took a deep breath. Whatever happened, it was imperative that he sort things out with Verity. And he might not have much time left to do it.
If Verity was indeed with the king, he knew it could only be on Druid business. But in that case, why hadn’t she consulted him?
He smiled at his own indignation. Because she was avoiding him, that was why. He put his harp away and picked up his cloak. He took up an unobtrusive position in the entrance hall to the king’s chambers, which was mercifully quiet at night. If Verity was here with the king, he would wait for her to emerge and follow her back to her quarters.
 
 
“Lady Verity.”
Verity turned and bumped right into Rhys. He put out his hand and steadied her—also preventing her flight. She hadn’t seen him for two days, but it still wasn’t enough time for her to be ready to face him. She stared at his brown doublet and refused to look up. He loosened his grip and she made an attempt to get past him, but he wrapped his arm around her and maneuvered her back against the stone wall.
She’d left the king and headed straight to the queen’s chapel to pray for the safety of the king’s child and of his wife. Rhys’s appearance at the back of the church made her regret her sudden piety. Had he seen her at the king’s chambers and followed her out? It seemed more than likely.
Rhys’s body now formed a solid wall between her and the light of the candles in the vestibule. He placed his right hand on the wall just beside her head, cutting off her exit to the door.
“You
will
talk to me, my lady.” His tone was as implacable as his stance.
“And what if I have nothing to say?”
“Then I will do the talking.” He paused long enough to hear her objections, but she offered him none. “Do you carry my child?”
Recognizing defeat, she slumped back against the wall. “Not as far as I know.”
“Lughnasadh was some time ago; surely by now—?”
“I’m not worried about what happened between us at the festival.”
“Obviously, but that has nothing to do with the possibility of you being with child.”
She raised her face to meet his gaze and found to her surprise that he didn’t look angry at all, merely patient and understanding. Somehow that didn’t make her feel any better.
“I didn’t drink the potion to enhance my fertility, but the one to prevent it.”
He studied her carefully. “Then why did you run away from me?”
“Because of the
other
night we spent together, when I came to your room.”
“Ah, now you are making sense.” Rhys nodded. “You cannot know if you are with child yet. It is too soon.” He smoothed his thumb over her furrowed forehead. “You will tell me when you know for sure.”
“Tell you what?” Verity narrowed her eyes. “Why are you suddenly being so reasonable, Sir Rhys?”
“Because you cannot reveal what you do not know.” He kissed her nose. “I’m quite willing to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“To see whether we need to marry.”
She glared at him. “But I do not want to marry you.”
“Why not?”
His reasonable tone was beginning to irk her. “Because I do not wish to marry
anyone
.”
“But if there is a child to consider—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I will not be forced into another marriage.”
He wrapped his strong fingers around her wrist and drew her hand away. “Forced? I am not
forcing
you. But surely you would not wish to bear a child alone?”
“Why not? It has to be better than being made to marry a man who . . .”
“Who what?”
“Who doesn’t really want me.” She pushed at his chest and he finally let her move past him.
“Verity, I’ve already told you that I love you.” He leaned back against the wall and considered her. “Is this argument really about me at all?”
She raised her chin at him. “What do you mean?”
“You told me that your parents forced you to marry Gareth.”
Verity wrapped her arms around herself. “They did.”
“Is that why you are wary of marrying again?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” She sent him a challenging glare, but he seemed oblivious to her hostility.
“There must be more to it than that.” Rhys angled his head to one side and studied her. “It isn’t usual for a woman to be forced to marry after Beltane—unless she is with child.”
Verity walked away from him and stared blindly up at the small statue of the Madonna and child that graced the chapel wall.
“Verity, were you—?”
She refused to turn around and confront him. It was far too painful. “I
thought
I was with child. It came to naught and by then it was too late. I was married.”
“Ah, love.” She flinched as his hands descended on her shoulders and he turned her into his embrace. She didn’t allow herself to relax against him, although she desperately wanted to.
She struggled to free herself and again he let her go. The compassion on his face made her want to weep, but she’d done enough of that over the years. She needed to be strong. “Now do you understand why I will never marry?”
“I understand why you panicked and ran away from me.”
“How so?”
“Because you are afraid of making the same mistakes again.”
“So you’ll leave me alone?” she said hopefully.
He half smiled. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I love you, and I’m not Gareth, and you’re not sixteen anymore.” He bowed to her. “You’re a strong woman, Verity Llewellyn, a woman who can make her own choices without being forced into them by anyone.”
“And I’ve made my choice.”
“No, you’ve panicked yourself into fearing the worst. That’s not a choice.”
“You cannot tell me what I am thinking.”
“Can’t I?” He held open the door. “You told me that I was too afraid to share my heart again. Aren’t you doing exactly the same thing?”
“It’s not the same at all!”

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