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At this point I think the important characters are Clare, Nick, the professor, and the general's son. Can the general's son be the third party? Maybe he's also a high ranking officer who just returned to the country to supervise high level war stuff, and he and Clare knew each other? I can play as him if you like.
Four days went by without the sun to accompany the ship’s voyage east. Instead, and much to the captain’s dismay, dark clouds covered the perfect blue skies that welcomed them a, sea the day the Maiden’s Gem left the port of Osham.
“It was not just dark clouds,” came a soft whisper from the thin lips of little Elys. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright as she raised her head from her companion’s lap to look the older woman in the eye. “There are bad things out there, says father. Elys and Dawn should stay inside, says father, because the wind can toss us out to the water if we went out.”
“We must then follow your father’s advice and stay here until all the bad things had passed,” Dawn answered, but to her, the worst has passed. The waves had finally gotten tired of tossing their ship, but it was far from giving up. The wood creaked as the ship fought to balance itself on the water. Dawn had to lock her belongings in a heavy chest and forego any activity she would have wished to do, because of the unfriendly sea.
The girl nodded solemnly, her dark curls bouncing around her face. She sat up and leaned against the wall, hugged her legs, and pressed her lips to a knee. “How long until we reach Nissius, Dawn? I am tired of just sitting here,” was the muffled sound she created.
“A lady must have patience, Elys,” Dawn gently corrected. The reply was a stubborn pouting face of the five-year-old girl. She was as tired as Elys – tired and bored of sitting around waiting for the sea to calm down. Her room was not uncomfortable. In fact, it was more comfort that what she was used to. The bed was large enough to fit her and Elys without any of them spilling over the edge, the mattress was soft and the blankets thick and warm. There was a table, which she would have used if she was reading or writing, except that when she attempted to read a book, the constant motion of the ship made her sick. A lamp hung overhead, casting a steady glow over the tiny chamber. “It will not be long. We will be back on land in a few more days, then a week’s ride to the capital. Patience, little lady, patience. It will all be worth the long wait. Nissius is a beautiful city, but I hear that the path to the city is more breathtaking.”
Curious blue eyes looked up at her. “Have you ever been to the capital, Dawn?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then the two of us,” the girl smiled. “It will be our first time.”
Dawn smiled back.
***************
Nissius was a city carved on the face of the Howling Mountains. It was the center of the empire built by the forefathers of the ruling emperor, Emperor Lucius Le Roux, and was home to the royal family and most of the loyal subjects of the emperor. The city itself was a display of wealth and power of the ruling house. Built on a mountain, it all too difficult to miss the white towers and rectangular establishments built on gentle slopes. Although the mountains provided extra fortification against invading armies, Nissius pride was its wards and magical defense towers. Founded centuries ago, it was said to contain the purest and strongest of all magic in existence, that no one had ever succeeded in breaking those wards.
It was also these wards that made the palace secured for all its inhabitants as nobody with ill intention to the emperor and his heir will ever be able to enter the palace grounds without alerting every mage in the perimeter.
“Therefore, you need not worry yourself, your highness. Our wards are being maintained regularly by our finest warders.”
And the day looked fine outside the castle, the crown prince thought. His back was to one of his father’s advisors, Lord Ernard Haucey of the Arcana. Lord Ernard was older than a middle-aged man, but apart from his gray hair and neatly clipped beard, he did not look a day older than thirty six. He stood tall in his uniform and spoke always with reason. This was why Sig thought it was best to believe the man when he said that there was nothing to worry about.
With a sigh, the crown prince of Nicaea turned away from the clear glass that allowed him an undisrupted view of his city, and conceded. Something was still bothering him, but perhaps he was just being paranoid. The Emperor would be hosting a grand ball in two weeks time to celebrate and formalize the betrothal of his heir. Because of this, all the important people in the empire were expected to arrive. Nissius, and most especially the castle, will therefore be filled to the brim with people whose self importance put together was possibly more substantial than the wealth of all of Nicaea combined.
“My lord, I am truly concerned, not only for the safety of my father and myself, but also for the security of our guests while they are in the capital. You must therefore forgive me if I ask of you and your men to increase your vigilance and perhaps increase the visibility of the Arcana in the city. I shall speak also with our guards, but,” he paused. The corners of his lips tugged slightly. “Between you and I, I believe that you are more effective enforcers than our regular soldiers.”
“I am flattered. That is truly a wise observation, your highness,” Lord Ernard bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. “However, I am confident that nothing will be amiss. Your guests will go back to their homes unharmed and delighted. I shall place my best men and women on the job.”
“Then prove that I am not wrong. Have you heard from my uncle? He brings with him a most splendid gift – my little cousin Elys and that Galorian woman whose golden voice I have been hearing about. And by the way, has my brother returned to the castle yet?”
“It was not just dark clouds,” came a soft whisper from the thin lips of little Elys. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright as she raised her head from her companion’s lap to look the older woman in the eye. “There are bad things out there, says father. Elys and Dawn should stay inside, says father, because the wind can toss us out to the water if we went out.”
“We must then follow your father’s advice and stay here until all the bad things had passed,” Dawn answered, but to her, the worst has passed. The waves had finally gotten tired of tossing their ship, but it was far from giving up. The wood creaked as the ship fought to balance itself on the water. Dawn had to lock her belongings in a heavy chest and forego any activity she would have wished to do, because of the unfriendly sea.
The girl nodded solemnly, her dark curls bouncing around her face. She sat up and leaned against the wall, hugged her legs, and pressed her lips to a knee. “How long until we reach Nissius, Dawn? I am tired of just sitting here,” was the muffled sound she created.
“A lady must have patience, Elys,” Dawn gently corrected. The reply was a stubborn pouting face of the five-year-old girl. She was as tired as Elys – tired and bored of sitting around waiting for the sea to calm down. Her room was not uncomfortable. In fact, it was more comfort that what she was used to. The bed was large enough to fit her and Elys without any of them spilling over the edge, the mattress was soft and the blankets thick and warm. There was a table, which she would have used if she was reading or writing, except that when she attempted to read a book, the constant motion of the ship made her sick. A lamp hung overhead, casting a steady glow over the tiny chamber. “It will not be long. We will be back on land in a few more days, then a week’s ride to the capital. Patience, little lady, patience. It will all be worth the long wait. Nissius is a beautiful city, but I hear that the path to the city is more breathtaking.”
Curious blue eyes looked up at her. “Have you ever been to the capital, Dawn?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then the two of us,” the girl smiled. “It will be our first time.”
Dawn smiled back.
***************
Nissius was a city carved on the face of the Howling Mountains. It was the center of the empire built by the forefathers of the ruling emperor, Emperor Lucius Le Roux, and was home to the royal family and most of the loyal subjects of the emperor. The city itself was a display of wealth and power of the ruling house. Built on a mountain, it all too difficult to miss the white towers and rectangular establishments built on gentle slopes. Although the mountains provided extra fortification against invading armies, Nissius pride was its wards and magical defense towers. Founded centuries ago, it was said to contain the purest and strongest of all magic in existence, that no one had ever succeeded in breaking those wards.
It was also these wards that made the palace secured for all its inhabitants as nobody with ill intention to the emperor and his heir will ever be able to enter the palace grounds without alerting every mage in the perimeter.
“Therefore, you need not worry yourself, your highness. Our wards are being maintained regularly by our finest warders.”
And the day looked fine outside the castle, the crown prince thought. His back was to one of his father’s advisors, Lord Ernard Haucey of the Arcana. Lord Ernard was older than a middle-aged man, but apart from his gray hair and neatly clipped beard, he did not look a day older than thirty six. He stood tall in his uniform and spoke always with reason. This was why Sig thought it was best to believe the man when he said that there was nothing to worry about.
With a sigh, the crown prince of Nicaea turned away from the clear glass that allowed him an undisrupted view of his city, and conceded. Something was still bothering him, but perhaps he was just being paranoid. The Emperor would be hosting a grand ball in two weeks time to celebrate and formalize the betrothal of his heir. Because of this, all the important people in the empire were expected to arrive. Nissius, and most especially the castle, will therefore be filled to the brim with people whose self importance put together was possibly more substantial than the wealth of all of Nicaea combined.
“My lord, I am truly concerned, not only for the safety of my father and myself, but also for the security of our guests while they are in the capital. You must therefore forgive me if I ask of you and your men to increase your vigilance and perhaps increase the visibility of the Arcana in the city. I shall speak also with our guards, but,” he paused. The corners of his lips tugged slightly. “Between you and I, I believe that you are more effective enforcers than our regular soldiers.”
“I am flattered. That is truly a wise observation, your highness,” Lord Ernard bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. “However, I am confident that nothing will be amiss. Your guests will go back to their homes unharmed and delighted. I shall place my best men and women on the job.”
“Then prove that I am not wrong. Have you heard from my uncle? He brings with him a most splendid gift – my little cousin Elys and that Galorian woman whose golden voice I have been hearing about. And by the way, has my brother returned to the castle yet?”
Characters:
Name: Cyrenna Dawn Layton
Age: 24
Appearance: Dawn
Magic Type: Mind magic
Name: Sighart Lucius Le Roux
Age: 28
Appearance: Sig
Magic Type: none
Just some notes:
Name of Empire: Nicaea
Capital: Nissius
Name of conquered state where the rebels are from: Galorien
I used random name generators. :p If you have better name for the places, feel free to change any of it.
Name: Cyrenna Dawn Layton
Age: 24
Appearance: Dawn
Magic Type: Mind magic
Name: Sighart Lucius Le Roux
Age: 28
Appearance: Sig
Magic Type: none
Just some notes:
Name of Empire: Nicaea
Capital: Nissius
Name of conquered state where the rebels are from: Galorien
I used random name generators. :p If you have better name for the places, feel free to change any of it.
I listened to the songs and I think I'd like to give Witch Hunt a try. PM me?
There it was. Claire had said it. There was one of the goals of his mission – to placate Claire and make her fall for him, to trust him, so that she didn’t get in his way. He should be happy about it, smiling and itching to tell the story to Antoine, but there he was sitting dumbfounded on his bed, thinking of what he might have told her had she waited for an answer. Instead, he smiled and kissed her back, reacting as he thought a lover would to his woman’s touch.
Then Nicholas decided that he had nothing to say and he was thankful that she didn’t wait for him to say anything at all. He could lie and tell her that he felt the same, but Claire didn’t deserve his lies any more than he deserved her affection. If he was hungry, his brain might have already forgotten about it, because Nick was looking at his soup like it was poisoned.
Then there was a knock at the door, but the person knocking didn’t wait for the invitation to come in. Timothy simply assumed that it was alright to come in. The tall French man entered the room dressed in red waistcoat and black jacket. His wavy hair was cut shorter and though he kept his expression neutral, his eyes were alight with a hidden knowledge.
“Why, cousin, that soup certainly looks good.”
“Yes, I wager it tastes better,” Nick answered instinctively, his voice hollow, and his attention still on the thick liquid inside the bowl. If he could see his reflection on the surface of the liquid, he would have observed that Claire did a splendid job of fixing his otherwise mussed hair. She claimed that his hands were no good as a comb, because whenever he ran his hand through his hair, it ended up ruined.
The sound of wood scraping against wood caught his attention. His “cousin” took the liberty of pulling a chair close to the bed and making himself comfortable in it. “Your lovely wife came to fetch me,” he informed Nick casually.
“Yes, she told me that she intended to personally see you. Have you any news from father?”
“And yes she did,” he answered with an amused smile, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “I also had the chance to have a short conversation with Doctor McQuerin before he left the house. He mentioned that you went back in the house in worse shape than when you left. I imagine your father would feel guilty of encouraging you to go out on your own, though looking at you, I don’t think you share the sentiment.”
Nick reached for the spoon and stalled by slowly taking a sip from his soup. He knew this would happen, but not that soon. “I don’t,” he shrugged and shoveled another spoonful of soup in his mouth, making eating an excuse to avoid his friend’s inquisitive eyes. “It’s well worth it, if that’s what you want to know.”
Timothy paused to consider Nick’s discomfort, but after a few thoughtful seconds, he burst into laughter. “I can’t believe the risks you are taking, Nick. I just can’t.”
Me neither, he thought. “Claire is lovely. It’s eternally difficult to hold on to your values when you are trapped in the same room as her,” Nick said, turning to face Tim who was grinning and nodding his head, looking like he was far away daydreaming. “Now that your curiosity is satisfied, why don’t you start narrating what happened yesterday while I am in Greenwich?”
“Of course.” He sobered. “Your father said he found nothing notable, but it doesn’t mean that we are excluding her as a suspect. Have you seen the news?” When Nick nodded and held up the copy of The Times, Timothy continued, “It is not our doing. The final report of the laboratory says that he died of heart failure and not poison. The family requested the detail about prison removed, yes, but the examining physician swore that the cause of death is heart failure and not poison as was the initial findings.”
“And how does he explain the error?”
Tim shrugged. “Simple human error, he said, wrong analysis by his associates. Apparently, he is working with an apprentice or two when Mr. Hawthorne’s body was examined.”
“I don’t believe it,” Nick said, shaking his head slowly.
“Neither do we.”
“What’s the physician’s name? And his associates?”
It was Timothy’s turn to shake his head then he smiled at his friend. “Not yet, Mr. Rochford. Let me handle this for now. I came here just to entertain you with the latest gossip, like our women do, and also to make sure that you are well. The doctor said you are recovering fast, which is good news for me, because your father has been like a slave overlord since you fell ill.”
Nick chuckled. “You should have gone to France.”
“Oh, but I love you too much to leave you alone in this judgmental city,” he said in that silky voice of his. His eyes were earnest and his expression so very tender that it made Nick laugh out loud until his side hurt and he winced. “I’ve said what I need to say. Your father is surely looking for me. By the way, I have heard that important people are invited to your wife’s ball.”
“She did mention inviting some of the generals. With her status, it is not impossible that they will come. Have you all considered what I told my father?”
“Yes,” Tim started to get up from his seat. “Yes, we are watching a couple of men now, and the night of the ball, I will personally brief you. I suppose you will be in better shape than you are now. I’ll leave you to rest, just like your wife said.”
Then Nicholas decided that he had nothing to say and he was thankful that she didn’t wait for him to say anything at all. He could lie and tell her that he felt the same, but Claire didn’t deserve his lies any more than he deserved her affection. If he was hungry, his brain might have already forgotten about it, because Nick was looking at his soup like it was poisoned.
Then there was a knock at the door, but the person knocking didn’t wait for the invitation to come in. Timothy simply assumed that it was alright to come in. The tall French man entered the room dressed in red waistcoat and black jacket. His wavy hair was cut shorter and though he kept his expression neutral, his eyes were alight with a hidden knowledge.
“Why, cousin, that soup certainly looks good.”
“Yes, I wager it tastes better,” Nick answered instinctively, his voice hollow, and his attention still on the thick liquid inside the bowl. If he could see his reflection on the surface of the liquid, he would have observed that Claire did a splendid job of fixing his otherwise mussed hair. She claimed that his hands were no good as a comb, because whenever he ran his hand through his hair, it ended up ruined.
The sound of wood scraping against wood caught his attention. His “cousin” took the liberty of pulling a chair close to the bed and making himself comfortable in it. “Your lovely wife came to fetch me,” he informed Nick casually.
“Yes, she told me that she intended to personally see you. Have you any news from father?”
“And yes she did,” he answered with an amused smile, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “I also had the chance to have a short conversation with Doctor McQuerin before he left the house. He mentioned that you went back in the house in worse shape than when you left. I imagine your father would feel guilty of encouraging you to go out on your own, though looking at you, I don’t think you share the sentiment.”
Nick reached for the spoon and stalled by slowly taking a sip from his soup. He knew this would happen, but not that soon. “I don’t,” he shrugged and shoveled another spoonful of soup in his mouth, making eating an excuse to avoid his friend’s inquisitive eyes. “It’s well worth it, if that’s what you want to know.”
Timothy paused to consider Nick’s discomfort, but after a few thoughtful seconds, he burst into laughter. “I can’t believe the risks you are taking, Nick. I just can’t.”
Me neither, he thought. “Claire is lovely. It’s eternally difficult to hold on to your values when you are trapped in the same room as her,” Nick said, turning to face Tim who was grinning and nodding his head, looking like he was far away daydreaming. “Now that your curiosity is satisfied, why don’t you start narrating what happened yesterday while I am in Greenwich?”
“Of course.” He sobered. “Your father said he found nothing notable, but it doesn’t mean that we are excluding her as a suspect. Have you seen the news?” When Nick nodded and held up the copy of The Times, Timothy continued, “It is not our doing. The final report of the laboratory says that he died of heart failure and not poison. The family requested the detail about prison removed, yes, but the examining physician swore that the cause of death is heart failure and not poison as was the initial findings.”
“And how does he explain the error?”
Tim shrugged. “Simple human error, he said, wrong analysis by his associates. Apparently, he is working with an apprentice or two when Mr. Hawthorne’s body was examined.”
“I don’t believe it,” Nick said, shaking his head slowly.
“Neither do we.”
“What’s the physician’s name? And his associates?”
It was Timothy’s turn to shake his head then he smiled at his friend. “Not yet, Mr. Rochford. Let me handle this for now. I came here just to entertain you with the latest gossip, like our women do, and also to make sure that you are well. The doctor said you are recovering fast, which is good news for me, because your father has been like a slave overlord since you fell ill.”
Nick chuckled. “You should have gone to France.”
“Oh, but I love you too much to leave you alone in this judgmental city,” he said in that silky voice of his. His eyes were earnest and his expression so very tender that it made Nick laugh out loud until his side hurt and he winced. “I’ve said what I need to say. Your father is surely looking for me. By the way, I have heard that important people are invited to your wife’s ball.”
“She did mention inviting some of the generals. With her status, it is not impossible that they will come. Have you all considered what I told my father?”
“Yes,” Tim started to get up from his seat. “Yes, we are watching a couple of men now, and the night of the ball, I will personally brief you. I suppose you will be in better shape than you are now. I’ll leave you to rest, just like your wife said.”
No matter what, it was Roran who ultimately knew about the Keep. So when he asked her to keep her mouth shut, she obeyed without question, and when he waved for her to follow him to the kitchen, she did so without second thoughts. At that moment, he was the sole authority that she would submit to, because she knew very well that her very life depended on him.
The kitchen was asleep, not dead. A single scone was left lit either by choice or by accident. She paused with her back against the closed door, allowing time for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and her racing heart to settle. It was just fatigue, she repeatedly told herself.
Roran went on ahead, intent on fulfilling their secret mission. She nodded on him once then followed his advice and managed to locate a couple of small light pans that would be useful on the road. It was not very difficult to find food in the kitchen, and she learned that these men were terribly organized which made their task all the more easier. At the end of their raid, the bag that Roran carried was half filled with dried goods, spices, and cooking utensils. It would not last until the Wastes, but carrying more would slow them down.
Ysabel was one step behind him, concentrating on not making a noise so when he stopped she almost bumped into him. "Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded and managed a small smile, but before he turned away, her gloved hand found his arm. “Are you sure about this?” she whispered back before they moved towards where there was no more turning back. “I am very thankful that you are helping me now, but there really is no need for you to come with me.” She shrugged. “I was just teasing about appointing you a position. If leaving Cannor will put you in danger, I do not believe I am worth risking your life for.” Besides, she might choose to return to Horngul, to the only life that she knew how to live. She was not a queen and she will never become one.
“Let’s keep moving.”
((No Problem. Would you want them to get caught? But maybe when they are near the stables to increase their chance of getting away.))
The kitchen was asleep, not dead. A single scone was left lit either by choice or by accident. She paused with her back against the closed door, allowing time for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and her racing heart to settle. It was just fatigue, she repeatedly told herself.
Roran went on ahead, intent on fulfilling their secret mission. She nodded on him once then followed his advice and managed to locate a couple of small light pans that would be useful on the road. It was not very difficult to find food in the kitchen, and she learned that these men were terribly organized which made their task all the more easier. At the end of their raid, the bag that Roran carried was half filled with dried goods, spices, and cooking utensils. It would not last until the Wastes, but carrying more would slow them down.
Ysabel was one step behind him, concentrating on not making a noise so when he stopped she almost bumped into him. "Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded and managed a small smile, but before he turned away, her gloved hand found his arm. “Are you sure about this?” she whispered back before they moved towards where there was no more turning back. “I am very thankful that you are helping me now, but there really is no need for you to come with me.” She shrugged. “I was just teasing about appointing you a position. If leaving Cannor will put you in danger, I do not believe I am worth risking your life for.” Besides, she might choose to return to Horngul, to the only life that she knew how to live. She was not a queen and she will never become one.
“Let’s keep moving.”
((No Problem. Would you want them to get caught? But maybe when they are near the stables to increase their chance of getting away.))
In
Knuxieh's Official Interest Check~ [Casual - Mid Casual] [CLOSED]
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Interested in assassin x assassin plot. Is it possible to do this in medieval settings?
Hi! I would like to try idea number 3, please :)
Being advised by the doctor to stay in bed until further notice was like being thrown into prison for doing something not entirely against the law. Therefore he was neither a prisoner nor a free man, but to be fair his prison was surprisingly comfortable. The problem was that he was not looking for comfort, but for the adventures that was never inside his bedroom. Surely, he thought he would die of boredom and not of blood loss.
It was a good thing that Dr. McQuerin left for Nicholas the latest issue of The Times. “To keep you updated,” the doctor had said as he dropped the folded newspaper on the bed before he left. That was how Claire had found Nick – sitting on the bed, frowning at whatever he was reading.
But before Claire knocked on the door, Nick was half-heartedly skimming through the pages. He had wanted to hear from his handler about his investigation, but the fact that Mr. Bennett was not going besides himself to inform Nick of the results, made him think that there was nothing to worry about. The windows were open and the cool breeze from outside the house was a welcome distraction until he found an article featuring the death of their Matthew Hawthorne. Nick sat up more straight and more focused. And that was when Claire knocked on the door.
Her gentle rapping barely caught his attention, though he absently called for the person at the other side to come in. His eyes, and his full attention, was on the text, as he scanned the words again to make sure that he missed nothing. It detailed the brief life of Mr. Hawthorne, a member of the nobility and a good man. His death was described as a failure of the heart. Oddly, there was no mention of poisoning or of prison. Strings were pulled, enough strings to cover for the real cause of the gentleman’s death. What Nick wanted to know, was whether or not the strings were pulled by people he allied himself with or by the enemy. This was another lead they could pursue.
[/i]“I waited a full five minutes in the dining room before someone finally informed me you would not be able to join me. How difficult is it to just pass along that kind of information? Especially at lunch time, when I know the staff is aware since they were going to bring this up for you. Well not this exactly, the doctor was going to give you that gruel again but I convinced the cook this would be better for you,” she said, setting the tray down on the table beside Nick.
His blue eyes found her, and all traces of impatience and disappointment vanished. He greeted his wife with a slow smile saying, “Should you find yourself in dire need of money, there are people I know who could use a pretty maid, or a waitress.” He followed her with his eyes as he moved around the bed to find her seat beside him. They stared at each other, wordless, for a few moments until she brought her hand to cup touch his cheek. He was rather pale and his hair was tousled. Her hand felt warm and soft against his cheek, so he leaned in to the touch.
[i]“Be honest. No lying to me. How are you? Are you going to have to stay in bed even longer this time? I feel guilty. I swear I'm not touching you again until the whole wound is healed not even a scar.” She paused, a pretty shade of pink coloring her cheek. He found her blushing very amusing, and her words that followed next were fired in quick succession as if she regretted what she said. "All right, that's not true...but I'm still being careful. You obviously don't know or follow your limits, so I have to be the responsible one here."
Finding it hard to resist teasing, he answered, “I find it unfair that only one of us bleeds on our first… So…” He left it at that, leaned forward and kissed her pink, inviting, lips. “Let’s find out how responsible my wife is,” he whispered on her lips, then his hands were on her, on places he discovered the night before that made her gasp. Her corset barely posed a challenge, but it was the pins on her hair that he enjoyed undoing.
“Excuse me, Mr. Rochford,” interrupted a meek female voice.
Raising his head from her collar bone, Nick moved so he was blocking Claire from view. He would have snapped at the person who dared to speak, but the maid was looking away, her cheeks red, and appeared to be as displeased as he was that she happened to walk into them the way she did. “I apologize,” she added, her blush deepening. “Your cousin wishes to speak with you. He waits at the sitting room. Should I ask him to leave, sir?”
“No,” he answered, steadying his voice and his pulse. “Give me ten minutes to finish,” he faltered, looking down at Claire. “To finish my meal, then I shall ring for you to take him to my room. That is all, you may leave.”
Nick waited for the door to close, and the maid’s footsteps to fade away before he sighed, then laughed nervously, thinking how she might react to such embarrassing situation. “I’m sorry about that. Perhaps you’re right about me not knowing my limits.” He raked a hand through his hair then sat back against the pillows, beside her. He reached for the tray and balanced it on a pillow between them. “Will you share this with me?”
It was a good thing that Dr. McQuerin left for Nicholas the latest issue of The Times. “To keep you updated,” the doctor had said as he dropped the folded newspaper on the bed before he left. That was how Claire had found Nick – sitting on the bed, frowning at whatever he was reading.
But before Claire knocked on the door, Nick was half-heartedly skimming through the pages. He had wanted to hear from his handler about his investigation, but the fact that Mr. Bennett was not going besides himself to inform Nick of the results, made him think that there was nothing to worry about. The windows were open and the cool breeze from outside the house was a welcome distraction until he found an article featuring the death of their Matthew Hawthorne. Nick sat up more straight and more focused. And that was when Claire knocked on the door.
Her gentle rapping barely caught his attention, though he absently called for the person at the other side to come in. His eyes, and his full attention, was on the text, as he scanned the words again to make sure that he missed nothing. It detailed the brief life of Mr. Hawthorne, a member of the nobility and a good man. His death was described as a failure of the heart. Oddly, there was no mention of poisoning or of prison. Strings were pulled, enough strings to cover for the real cause of the gentleman’s death. What Nick wanted to know, was whether or not the strings were pulled by people he allied himself with or by the enemy. This was another lead they could pursue.
[/i]“I waited a full five minutes in the dining room before someone finally informed me you would not be able to join me. How difficult is it to just pass along that kind of information? Especially at lunch time, when I know the staff is aware since they were going to bring this up for you. Well not this exactly, the doctor was going to give you that gruel again but I convinced the cook this would be better for you,” she said, setting the tray down on the table beside Nick.
His blue eyes found her, and all traces of impatience and disappointment vanished. He greeted his wife with a slow smile saying, “Should you find yourself in dire need of money, there are people I know who could use a pretty maid, or a waitress.” He followed her with his eyes as he moved around the bed to find her seat beside him. They stared at each other, wordless, for a few moments until she brought her hand to cup touch his cheek. He was rather pale and his hair was tousled. Her hand felt warm and soft against his cheek, so he leaned in to the touch.
[i]“Be honest. No lying to me. How are you? Are you going to have to stay in bed even longer this time? I feel guilty. I swear I'm not touching you again until the whole wound is healed not even a scar.” She paused, a pretty shade of pink coloring her cheek. He found her blushing very amusing, and her words that followed next were fired in quick succession as if she regretted what she said. "All right, that's not true...but I'm still being careful. You obviously don't know or follow your limits, so I have to be the responsible one here."
Finding it hard to resist teasing, he answered, “I find it unfair that only one of us bleeds on our first… So…” He left it at that, leaned forward and kissed her pink, inviting, lips. “Let’s find out how responsible my wife is,” he whispered on her lips, then his hands were on her, on places he discovered the night before that made her gasp. Her corset barely posed a challenge, but it was the pins on her hair that he enjoyed undoing.
“Excuse me, Mr. Rochford,” interrupted a meek female voice.
Raising his head from her collar bone, Nick moved so he was blocking Claire from view. He would have snapped at the person who dared to speak, but the maid was looking away, her cheeks red, and appeared to be as displeased as he was that she happened to walk into them the way she did. “I apologize,” she added, her blush deepening. “Your cousin wishes to speak with you. He waits at the sitting room. Should I ask him to leave, sir?”
“No,” he answered, steadying his voice and his pulse. “Give me ten minutes to finish,” he faltered, looking down at Claire. “To finish my meal, then I shall ring for you to take him to my room. That is all, you may leave.”
Nick waited for the door to close, and the maid’s footsteps to fade away before he sighed, then laughed nervously, thinking how she might react to such embarrassing situation. “I’m sorry about that. Perhaps you’re right about me not knowing my limits.” He raked a hand through his hair then sat back against the pillows, beside her. He reached for the tray and balanced it on a pillow between them. “Will you share this with me?”
I'm back! :) will be posting tomorrow.
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