Prince, Prelude-Legend Page 14

  Julian was frantic. And then he saw the basket of roses resting on the stone bench and a movement in the shed. He couldn’t get to her fast enough.

  She whispered his name, and he could only respond with action. His mouth was on hers, his tongue searching for her response. When her tongue met and danced with his own, he felt himself lost.

  His kisses covered her face, moved to her neck, her ears, and then found her lips again. His hands moved over her, taking off the short, dark velvet jacket she wore and allowing it to drop to the wood floor.

  She helped him by undoing his intricate tie and pulling off his short-waisted jacket, as he had already thrown off his driving cape and gloves.

  He undid her bodice and roughly exposed her full breasts, making an inarticulate sound as he lowered his mouth and covered them with his kisses, cupped them, and suckled her nipples as she gasped with pleasure.

  He came up to hold her face. “Maxie…I love you…” He kissed her before she could answer, and his tongue found and tasted her as she pressed her body against his.

  His other hand continued to fondle her breast as her hand discovered his hard bulge in his britches. He came away from her lips to growl, “Do you want that, my love…do you?”

  “Yes…now…here…”

  He bucked himself against her hard in a preview of what was to come as he started to lower her to the hard floor.

  He was stretched out beside her, his tongue once more teasing her own, his hand under her simple gown, under her soft cotton undergarment to find and then hold the tuft of soft hair at the apex between her thighs. His fingers started to move as he wished her clothes and undergarments at Jericho!

  She was arching to his touch. She heard herself groan as his finger worked its way inside her. She wanted this…

  She had his buttons undone, she had his cock in her small hand, when a voice called…

  “Miss Maxie…”

  Max and Julian froze in place. A moment later they were up on their feet and he was helping her into her things and pushing her out the door. Her things were, she knew, askew, but luckily she was forever untidy when she played and worked outdoors. There was no help for it. She couldn’t let the servant look into the shed and find them at loose ends! “Yes…?” She called, “Here I am.”

  Max was a favorite amongst the servants. As far as they were concerned, she could do no wrong. In fact, if one of them had discovered her in a questionable position with her betrothed they wouldn’t think ill of it—quite the opposite. Julian Talbot was the very broth of a man. He was big, strong, and dangerously handsome, and they would have shrugged to wonder what had taken so long.

  “Aye then, miss Maxine. Kettles sent me to ask if you could come as quickly as possible. Cookie and Mrs. Higgens are having the devil of a fit…and there be pots a flying everywhere!”

  “Yes, yes…I will be right there.” Maxie smiled to dismiss him. She hurriedly picked up her basket of flowers and turned to smile naughtily over her shoulder at her man. She knew he had rushed to dress himself and was now attempting to redo his tie without a mirror. She laughed and called out softly, “Later, my buck…”

  “Make no mistake of that, sweet thing.” He whispered, “And not too much later…”

  * * *

  Lamia struggled to break away from what they were showing her. She begged them to stop. She watched because they held her rigidly in place and she could not turn away. She called out before she could stop herself, “Father!” Her hand came free from her body, and she reached for him, “Dearest Father…”

  Tears had been lost to her long ago, but one fell down her white porcelain cheek now. She had not thought it possible to feel this way again. She turned in the direction of her the tormentor she could not see. “You! The precious Realm, the Realm he had so devotedly served…What of you? You should have helped him, not condemned him!”

  “He condemned himself when he took the Thorn to that child’s throat. Look at her! Look at her, Lamia DuLaine. She was his servant. She depended on him, trusted him. She was only the first of many.” The voice spoke harshly, grimly.

  “He performed a Druid ritual.”

  “No! The ritual was Dark Magic, found in error…relegated to extinction.”

  “Untrue. He found the ritual in the Book of Berwick. He took it from the book. A ritual meant to be used in extreme times.”

  “No. It had been outlawed. There is never a reason to take an innocent life.”

  “It was his right. He was a high priest. The ritual he had performed had been created by Druids for Druids. You speak of that girl’s life as though it was holy, and it was not! My father sacrificed a mere peasant, a worthless being, a lowly creature whose life was spent in drudgery. She was sacrificed for a greater cause, for a Druid life!” Lamia ranted, waved her arms, and fisted her hands, the rest of her body frozen in the light. “Do you not see? It is breaking his heart to kill her. It did break his heart. He was moved by the love of his own…his wife. What moved the elders? Revenge?”

  “No, Lamia. And you forget how many young girls were slaughtered by his hand. His was a selfish act that brought us all shame.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to remember. “Shame! Yes, the Realm butchered its finest, its own! Shame! They who call themselves compassionate were so full with rage that they forgot to take pity.”

  “There was no rage, only bitter disappointment, Lamia DuLaine. Your father had been admired. He trained the youth, he worked with the villagers to maintain harmony with the growing Christian numbers…he was loved.”

  “Love?” Lamia was spitting out venom. “Is that what you call it? Damn you! Damn you all! I wish you could rot in hell. You put my father…my dear gentle mother to death by fire!” Lamia was out of control. She was screeching, crying, pounding at her heart. “You would have butchered me as well…if—”

  “But you were spared.” The voice cut in softly. “The name of DuLaine, before your father’s barbaric crimes, had been a great one. And you, Lamia…look…look what you have done.”

  “Hateful, self-righteous creatures…all of you!” Now Lamia was sobbing.

  “DuLaine, child of horror.” The voice sighed. “You forget so much.”

  She railed, “It doesn’t matter. Yes, you spared me, but at what cost? I was banished, left to fend for myself.”

  “You were spared, but you betrayed our kindness.”

  “You banished me, knowing the gland that had been surgically implanted in me would call for blood. Did you remove it? No, you sent me out into the world the way I was. You…it was your decision to allow me to evolve into who I am! I am…because you have allowed it. Now I own my world. I answer only to myself!”

  “That is not precisely correct, Lamia DuLaine. We did not send you out like that…you ran. You did not want us to remove the gland that preserves your youth and immortality. We want you to remember. There is more…much more. You choose to forget. Think about it, for we are not done.”

  With a thunderous clap of electricity the light particles vanished and Lamia found herself standing where she had been before. She was still in her home, the home she had made for herself, far from Scotland, far from the touch of the Druid Realm.

  She looked at the sarsen stones in her hand. Her eyes flew wide open, and she nearly dropped the stones in shock. They were covered in fresh blood.

  The mist of light was gone. Her father’s beloved image was gone, and that all too maddeningly familiar voice of the Keeper was gone! Why were they tormenting her now…after all these years?

  * * *

  “It doesn’t matter. Honestly, Cookie…” Maxie rubbed the full, rounded arm of the Reigates’ cook, who had been with the family since before she and Daniel were born. They adored her, and she could always be counted on when Maxie and Danny made an appearance in the warm, wonderful smelling kitchen to hand out some of whatever she was creating. Her name was Mary, but as children they had dubbed her Cookie and it had stuck.

  Co
okie sniffed and adjusted her bonnet. “Ye should mention to Mrs. Higgens that oi knows what to do when we have an unexpected visitor, especially when that visitor is Lord Talbot!”

  “Now, you know that Mrs. Higgens is new. We want her to fit in, and that is difficult. You have been with us and know everything about Reigate. She is just finding her way. She was probably nervous. She knew I would be excited to have Julian so unexpectedly, and I am sure she only wanted to help. Mind me now, I should be out there with his lordship, and so I need a promise from you that you will not fling any more pots or pans or anything at Mrs. Higgens when she has to come back into the kitchen.”

  “Aye then, oi am heartily sorry, love. Go on then. Loike ye say, you should be out there with him. Oi expect oi know how to conduct meself in me own kitchen.”

  “Yes, you do.” Maxie laughed.

  “Is it safe?” Julian was at the wide-open doorway of the kitchen, smiling.

  Cookie blushed several shades of red and welcomed his lordship with what she was sure were gracious terms.

  He chuckled and stepped in to have Max rush him and take his beautifully muscled arm. “Cookie has been promising not to kill Mrs. Higgens.”

  “Kill Mrs. Higgens, indeed!” scoffed Cookie, and then with a smile, she said, “Oi have these fresh baked tarts…would ye be loiking to taste them for me, and let me know how they turned out?”

  Julian could see the gleam in her eye and could not refuse; besides he suddenly realized he was hungry. Before they knew what was happening they were seated at the large plank table, drinking cider wine and eating an assortment of treats.

  Peace and tranquility had been restored, and some time later, Julian led his beloved down the hall to the library and asked, “When will your parents return?”

  She eyed him coyly. “Do you mean…will we have enough time?”

  He laughed then. “Yes, that is what I mean.”

  “What of your honor, my lord?” she teased.

  “My honor be damned. There is just so much a man can take…besides, I want to up our wedding date.”

  Maxie looked up at him in surprise. “Do you…?”

  “Yes. I want to get married now…if not tonight, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, the day after…or the day after that, but I will not wait longer than that. I mean to talk to your father about it. What say you?”

  “Yes.” Maxie was thoughtful. Her mother was not going to like this. “My gown is nearly ready…but what about the invited guests? Our families, our friends…do we just cancel the ball our families are planning? It is the only thing we can do, as it is impossible to have everything in readiness …?”

  “Never mind that. We can come back from our honeymoon, and they can attend our ball at that time. Delay the ball for them, speed up the wedding for us.”

  She smiled softly, thinking he was a man—for a man such things were simple. Maxie was in love and wanted to be with him. It was simple for her as well. She brightened at once. “Yes, what an amazing idea that is. People will think us very odd, but no matter…we are!” She laughed. He swung her up into his arms, carried her into the library, deposited her on her back on the couch, and went to his knees so he could bend to kiss her lips.

  “Maxie,” he murmured as his lips brushed hers, “I love you…”

  “Julian…I need to tell you something…something I think you already know.” She sat upright and pulled him up to sit beside her.

  “You are Druid,” he said softly.

  She was only mildly surprised. Most of her expected him to know this already. “Yes, I am Druid, and you are a descendent of a very important Druid priest.”

  “I know, my love.”

  “No secrets—none after this, Julian.”

  “No secrets, Maxine,” he answered, trying to keep it light. He could see, however, this was not going to be a casual conversation. He sighed. “Yes, descended from a direct line of Talbots.”

  “It is more than that. You are a descendent of Jehu Talbot…”

  “Well…not exactly…”

  She was astounded. She thought she had it all in order. “What the deuce do you mean, not exactly?

  “Jehu and his bride were expecting a child, but the Romans came…”

  “Yes, yes…I know….” she started impatiently and then drifted off. “Of course. Why didn’t I realize that before?”

  “They were the last, Jehu and Patrick Talbot, of a strong Druid bloodline. Patrick survived to carry on.”

  “Their father was already gone before the Romans came?”

  “Years before…yes, and I am the last of that direct bloodline.”

  Maxie smiled and touched his face. “Then we must have sons. We will keep trying and trying until we have many sons.”

  He laughed and held her hand. The library doors opened, and the squire coughed and said, “Ah, so here you two are!”

  ~ Eighteen ~

  LAMIA WAS BEHAVING wildly, moving about the castle like a caged animal, and Shamon was concerned.

  A day had already passed since they had arrived at the castle. She had performed the ritual she said she needed, and she was still not feeling well. He adored her and was worried from the bottom of his very deep heart. He had hoped she would be better at DuLaine. He had hoped she would forget about Talbot…for a while at least. Lamia meant the world to him. She had given him life when he had none. Now, she had even given him the gift of prolonged life.

  Sacrificial blood…

  The thought whispered in his brain, and he cringed. The thought of it sickened him. However, there was nothing he could do about it. Such was his life. She was his mistress, and he owed her everything. She needed him. She wanted him with her for as long as she could keep him, and he wanted to be there for her. She had told him that she had never before wanted to keep a servant past his prime, had never before shared her blood with a servant. He would guard her. He would do all that she asked, and he would adore her always; as long as he had breath to give, it would be hers. Such was Shamon.

  He had always thought of her as omniscient. She was in fact all-powerful. Now, here she was in a frenzy he could not understand. He had never seen her quite like this. What was wrong? What could he do for her?

  And there was Nell. Would she hurt Nell? He was growing very fond of the pretty girl…

  Lamia knew that he had affection for the chit. She did not mind it. When it came to Shamon, she allowed a great deal. So she had promised not to hurt Nell. She had told Shamon Nell was only a passing diversion.

  In spite of this, Shamon was concerned. When Lamia was out of control, she was dangerous. Promises would be broken. If she couldn’t restrain herself, Nell would be sacrificed to her mood.

  He would have to divert Lamia. This would be tricky. She would not like it if he showed too much affection for Nell. She would not like it if she thought he was trying to protect Nell from her. He must not allow Lamia to see his thoughts as she had with the poor little “flower girl” in London.

  He owed his allegiance to Lamia DuLaine, but at times like these, he was a tortured young man. He watched Nell playing idly with a kitten on the kitchen floor. Lamia had depleted her, and the girl needed to rest, but he could feel Lamia coming. No. No. He had to do something. Another session with Lamia would kill her!

  “Nell.” He ordered quietly, “Take yerself off, girl. Go…now.”

  She looked up at him. His whisper was sharp, filled with…something that made her get to her feet. “But..?” She looked at him vaguely, unsure what she should do. He could see that at the moment she was a lost soul.

  “Go on, oi tell ye!” Shamon was desperate “Take the kitty and go on outside then…out.”

  Too late. Lamia was there. Lamia was moving to take Nell’s hand and pull her close. “Pretty Nell,” Lamia said softly.

  “M’lady…Cook is just outside bringing in stores…” Shamon attempted only mild concern.

  “Ah yes…the cook…the servants…” She looked around. “Why, Shamon, are we in t
he kitchen?” She was stroking Nell’s full breast beneath her simple cotton gown. It had a scoop bodice, and she tugged Nell closer, putting her hand inside the gown to fondle Nell’s pert nipple. “Perhaps we should all go to my room…”

  “It would be remarked upon, my lady…my love,” Shamon said softly. He had to be careful, very careful.

  She drew away from Nell and backed up. “Yes. We can’t have that kind of talk…not now when I am…unable to deal with it.”

  “Shall I bring you some refreshments to the library, my lady?” Shamon asked gently.

  She eyed him a moment. “Yes…and for yourself as well. You and I…shall have tea together…I need your company, Shamon.”

  “Yes, my dear heart,” he whispered.

  He had successfully diverted her. Nell was forgotten as Lamia moved to touch Shamon’s cheek. “My Shamon.”

  He watched her leave the kitchen, and then he whispered to Nell, “Stay out of her way. Stay out of sight. Tell Cook you need air and take the kitty and go outside for the day.”

  “Yes, Shamon.” These days, poor Nell had little will of her own. But for the moment, Nell was safe…for the moment.

  * * *

  Maxie had Julian by the hand and was quietly leading him to the attic as she whispered, “I am convinced t something up might help us understand even more.”

  He stopped her at the foot of the stairs. He set the lantern down and pulled her close. “I think you are trying to get me up there to take advantage of me…”

  “That too.” She smiled wickedly, and he laughed and hugged her close, saying her name over and over.

  He had his large hands on her small, bare, tight rump under the white linen of her nightdress, and he pulled her against him.

  She responded by reaching for and finding his hard, pulsing cock under his brocade robe. As she stroked it and felt their bodies fill with heat, she said softly, “This is us, you and me—isn’t it, Julian? It isn’t Madelyn and Jehu—it’s now, and it is you and me.”