Chapter Twenty-Nine
Niki waited until Roberta had left the room before he spoke again, but Freddie preempted him. “I believe you have been making inquiries in various circles about my trustworthiness.”
Niki had not expected his careful probing to have reached Freddie’s ears, but he supposed he should have. The man seemed to have a great many friends and supporters in his government.
“Something came to my attention, and I had to follow it up,” he said. His meal no longer appealed to him, and he pushed his plate aside, taking up the glass of red wine instead.
“You think I am trying to have you killed?” Freddie spoke thoughtfully. “I was surprised by it, and yet I suppose it makes sense. I am in the perfect position to play a double game. If I were so inclined, that is, which I am not.”
“So I was told.” Niki glanced up as a maid came to clear the table and waved her impatiently away.
The door closed, and they were alone again.
“You were overheard speaking to a man in the mews outside my aunt’s house.
My name was mentioned, as well as talk of sedition.
Suspicion was raised as to who this man was.
Until then, it had not occurred to me that you may have joined with my enemies but—”
“But it did then. I gather this is Tomas’s doing?”
Niki nodded. “That was one of the reasons I was inclined to discount my suspicion; but remember, it is my life at stake here.”
“I understand,” Freddie said. He placed his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. “Tomas does not like me, but apart from that, you want to know who this stranger was I spoke to about you and what business he had with me?”
“Yes,” Niki agreed.
“I will explain quickly because you are impatient to join your wife in your bedchamber,” Freddie added, and it was not a question.
“The answer is simple enough. The man Tomas saw is a comrade of mine from my army days. We meet up sometimes to discuss old times. He had come looking for me because he had been sitting in a drinking den in one of the poor parts of London and had overheard a conversation.” His mouth twitched. “Rather like Tomas overheard mine.”
Niki was not inclined to be entertained. “And what was this conversation?”
“A foreigner was suggesting it would be a good idea if the English rose up against their masters. Your name was mentioned as someone who deserved to be overthrown, but the fellow was not looking for recruits for his own agenda. He was spouting rebellion to those around him who were willing to listen.”
“Was he alone?”
“There was a servant with him who was trying to hush him, but the man was very drunk.”
“Did you question this man?”
“I would have, but he was gone by the time my men and I arrived.”
Niki believed him. Even before he had made his inquiries, he had been inclined to trust Freddie. Tomas’s story had caused that trust to waver, but Niki thought himself a good judge of character, and looking into Hart’s straight gaze, he could no longer doubt him.
“And no one knew who he was?”
“He was wearing the distinctive robes of one of your advisers, but I do not have a name and only a vague description of a face.”
“Old…young?”
“Middle-aged.”
Most of his advisers were either old or middle-aged. “Your friend could not pick him out?”
“Unfortunately, all but Francis Ruess had returned to Holtswig to prepare for your wedding to Roberta. But fortunately, I had arranged for a sketch to be made of the man my friend saw that night.”
“Did you show it to Francis?”
“I did.” Freddie smiled. “He said it was Count Leo Becker.”
Niki felt the beginnings of hope, mixed with surprise.
Francis had taken on quite a few new men in the council, with Niki’s agreement, of course—he understood that some of them were getting too old to perform their duties competently.
But these days, when he looked about, he felt as if half of them were strangers. Count Leo Becker was not a stranger.
“I am confused. You should have told me this before. Becker is not a man I would consider likely to be involved in any plot. Some of the others…perhaps. I do not know them well.”
“Nevertheless, that is what Mr. Ruess told me.”
“And then…?” Despite his doubts, Niki sat forward, eager to hear that more progress had been made.
“I did not tell you because Mr. Ruess instructed me not to bother you with the matter,” Freddie said apologetically.
“He did not want to spoil your wedding day. As the count had already left the country, he said he would have him arrested when he returned to Holtswig, and I could speak to him when I arrived.”
That sounded promising. While Niki trusted Francis to do what was necessary, he was annoyed that the information had not been shared with him. But that was a matter between him and Francis. “If it was just one man,” he said aloud, “and not a group of them…Could it be that simple?”
Freddie shrugged.
Niki finished his wine. “Although Leo…He is not someone I could have imagined plotting my death. I have stayed at his lodge many times when hunting in the forest. I always thought him a loyal supporter.”
“I will speak to him when we reach Holtswig.”
“Keep me informed this time,” Niki said sharply.
Freddie nodded. “And I hope that answers your question as to my loyalty to you.”
“It does, thank you. I know you have a close relationship with Roberta’s family, and for her sake too I needed to clear the air.”
Freddie seemed to relax. “Then let’s put it to bed. And speaking of that…” He looked up at the ceiling. “I think Roberta will be wondering why you are still lingering here with me, and she has never been a very patient girl…”
Roberta opened her eyes to the sound of lowered voices.
For a moment, she drifted, almost falling back to sleep, and then Niki said, “I won’t require your help tonight,” and the door closed.
Roberta was completely awake now. There was silence, as though Niki was trying to see in the night-dark room, and then she heard clothing being shed.
There were footsteps, and she felt the edge of the mattress sink down and the covers be pushed back as he climbed in beside her.
Roberta held her breath, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if Niki did too. Should she say something? Suddenly, she felt shy, and besides, what would she say? Hello, will we consummate our marriage? She almost laughed at the thought and only just stopped herself in time.
But he must have heard the hitch in her breathing. He turned toward her, and she noticed again how dark it was. No light from the window—and everything was so still. If they had been in London, there would have been noise and movement, but here in the country there was only quiet.
“Roberta?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Yes, I am awake.”
He let out a relieved breath. “I am so glad. And are you angry with me for taking so long?”
“I am not angry,” she said uncertainly. “Should I be?”
“I am sorry we are here in this inn for our first night together as man and wife. It is not as I hoped it would be. You must blame your poor roads for breaking the axle.”
She sat up abruptly in the darkness, her hair cascading about her. “Really! Are your Holtswig roads any better?”
Was he laughing? “Your temper can be fiery,” he said admiringly. “So you are angry with me?”
“If I was angry with you, I would have barred the door and left you to sleep in the stables,” she said tartly.
He did not answer, and she wanted to groan. Was she really arguing with him on their wedding night?
“Roberta,” he said quietly. His fingers brushed against her.
He found her petticoat and began to explore the cloth, as if he was trying to decide what she was wearing.
She opened her mouth to explain about the absence of her pretty nightgown, but he spoke again.
“I am sorry. Our wedding night was meant to be…Well, as Ernest revealed, I had planned to make it a memorable occasion.”
She laughed. “It is memorable.”
“You know what I mean. I wanted it to be something we could look back on and see as the beginning of our long and happy marriage.”
Roberta wriggled down into the bed again, turning onto her side to face him. “Is that what you think? We will have a long and happy marriage?”
“Most definitely.”
“What did you plan?” she asked curiously. “Tell me.”
“We were to spend the night at the house my aunt leased near Dover. I arranged for champagne and an intimate supper for two. And roses, lots of roses. I wanted us to be completely alone together, no one knocking on the door or asking me to sort out problems of state—or anything, really. Just you and me.”
It did sound lovely, but even as she imagined it, another thought occurred to her. “You don’t think in such a perfect setting we might have felt pressured? I mean, when we…when you…” She broke off, unable to find the words to continue.
He said nothing, but she knew he was listening, so she hurried on, trying to explain herself.
“Niki, I know you have had many intimate experiences. You are a man, and a prince. Women would flock to you. I mean, they would flock not just because you are a prince, but you are a handsome man, and you are desirable. Unlike me,” she continued, hearing herself babbling but unable to stop.
“Not that I am a man and desirable, but I have not had any intimate experiences. We have kissed, but I don’t know a great deal of what comes afterward.
I mean, I know what comes afterward, but only by observing the behavior of horses and one time at Estelle Longhurst’s when I spied upon a lady and gentleman in a cupboard, but it was very cramped in there, and they were making a lot of noise, and I couldn’t really see—”
Niki reached out and found her face, and the next moment, he was kissing her. It was certainly effective when it came to stopping her mouth. Now he was kissing her as her husband, it did feel strange at first.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, shifting slightly, nuzzling against her cheek and then her ear. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No, don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.
He kissed her again, small, quick kisses against the side of her neck, traveling down to her collar bone, his breath warm on her skin and yet raising goose bumps. “You taste very nice.” His voice was muffled.
Her breasts ached, the nipples rising to hard little nubs, and she realized then that kissing could be a whole-body experience.
He found her mouth this time in long and languid kisses, while his hand cupped her breast, squeezing gently.
Well, that was very nice. She pressed against him, seeking more, and he left her mouth and found the peak of her breast, his mouth dampening her petticoat.
She drew away slightly and tugged at it, and then he was helping her.
The garment was tossed to one side, and then she felt his naked body against hers.
More muscular, hairier too, as his thigh pressed between hers.
His hands cupped her hips as he groaned out words she did not recognize.
Ah, she thought feverishly, he is speaking in the Holtswig language.
Then they were kissing again and everything about it, about him, made her ache and tingle, and she wanted him. He wanted her too. She felt him hard against her thigh, but he seemed to be waiting, letting her decide when they should take that ultimate step.
“Please,” she said, and reached down to stroke him. “I want to.”
He rose above her, his mouth covering hers, notching himself into the apex of her thighs.
She arched against him, eager now, wanting this experience that others spoke of in such contradictory terms. And then she felt the push of him inside her, finding his way through her swollen flesh and sending tingles of sensation into her belly.
She gasped, clutching her hands about his waist, feeling the muscles tightening in his buttocks with each movement.
“There,” he said, with a note almost of wonder. “We are one.”
She stretched up to kiss his chin—the rest of his face was somewhere above her head—and then licked down his throat, tasting salt and sweat.
They were both perspiring with effort, but the slickness of their naked bodies and the intimacy of his touch was unlike anything she had ever known.
It was addictive. But surely this wasn’t all?
She wriggled, and he caught his breath. She realized then that he was waiting again, allowing her to become accustomed to the strangeness of this act, and there was more.
She wriggled again, and with a groan, he began to move against her, getting faster with each thrust—and less practiced too, as if he could no longer restrain himself.
And she liked that too. The thought that Niki, always so controlled, had now lost that control with her. Pleasure cramped in her belly again, spasmed between her legs, and her heart pounded.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried out loudly, not caring if the whole inn heard.
She seemed to be floating, riding a wave of ecstasy, and it took her a moment to realize he was laughing. Breathless laughter was making him shake as he released inside her and then groaned out his own pleasure. “Yes, indeed,” he said, his voice husky with amusement and effort.
She didn’t care. It had been far better than she could ever have imagined, and so she would tell anyone who asked. But then she remembered that she was a princess now, and she had to keep her own counsel. It gave her pause.
“You are quiet,” he said, drawing her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. “You are not hurt?”
“Not at all,” she answered him. “Or maybe a little achy. Although perhaps that is because I am a novice.”
He went still, as if her words had jogged some memory of his own, and then he murmured sleepily, “We need more practice.”
“Like the kissing,” she said, and yawned. “We are good at that.”
“Very good.”
Her eyes were closing, which was a shame because she wanted to ask him about his own experiences in the bedroom.
Not because she was jealous but because she was interested and…
yes, well, she wondered how tonight had matched up.
She could wait, though. They had the rest of their lives to share their secrets.