The Hawk and the Dove (12 page)

The wine flowed freely; she felt reckless and as a consequence lost the rest of her money. Philadelphia flirted openly with Matthew, accidentally touching his hands and his knees beneath the table. A look of alarm clouded Matthew’s face as he gazed across the room.

“What is it?” asked Sabre softly, following his gaze.

“Trouble,” said Matt. “Here comes—”

Sabre stiffened. “I know perfectly well who it is,” she said coldly, “Her Majesty’s darling Sea God.”

Hawk jerked his head slightly and Matthew obeyed the silent order instantly, relinquishing his chair at the table.

Philadelphia stood when Matt stood, unwilling to be parted from him yet. When the lady stood, James Clinton politely got to his feet and Hawkhurst’s bark of laughter mocked them. “That leaves just the lady to play with me,” he said suggestively.

Sabre flashed him a glance as cold as green ice. “I’m afraid not; thankfully I’ve lost all my money,” she said with relish, and started to rise.

A strong brown hand unceremoniously fell to her shoulder to prevent her from rising. “No matter, we’ll play for this little bauble.”

She gasped as she felt the jade-and-turquoise necklace lifted from her with deft fingers and placed on the table between them. Her mouth was dry; quickly she glanced about for Matt, but the young coward had abandoned her to the Sea God.

His face was stamped with strength and humor and male arrogance. He was dominating and unpredictable and dangerous. The last words she had said to him
hovered between them.
Go to hell!
She wanted to shout it now but made an attempt to stifle the deep physical antagonism she felt at his nearness.

“I cannot play for such high stakes, my lord. You take advantage … I am only learning to play.”

His eyes were cold, his mouth unsmiling. “Whenever we meet, you whine. First I’m taking advantage of your innocence, now I’m taking advantage of your ignorance.”

She swallowed the bait instantly, anger flaming through her veins at the insulting words.

“For God’s sake, ’tis only a game,” he scoffed. But she knew it was a deadly game. She knew the outcome and so did he. It was as if he knew the necklace was not hers and he would deliberately and effectively relieve her of it.

“What stakes do you put up, m’lord?”

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

She looked deep into his eyes, although it was an effort for her to pretend calm. “You have nothing I want,” she said slowly, emphasizing each word.

His predator’s grin flashed her a promise that before he was finished with her, she would want something from him, beg something from him.

“Five hundred crowns, then; all women want money.” The sum he named was outrageous, his manner boldly insolent.

She felt a need to be as bold as he. The odds were heavily against her, so she evened them to fifty-fifty. “Let’s just cut for high card. I refuse to sit and play out this farce.”

With a flourish he offered her the deck. She drew a ten; he drew a knave. “How apt,” she snapped. Sabre snatched up her fan and almost overturned her chair in an effort to escape him, but he caught hold of her wrist
and said low, “I have apartments on the fourth floor. If you play your cards right”—he dangled the necklace before her eyes—“I can be a very generous man.”

Anger and hatred almost robbed her of speech. She pierced him with an icy green look of contempt. “Go to hell!” Her legs trembled as she swept across the room, putting as much distance as she could between them, and yet she knew she must not let that necklace out of her sight. She refused to think of the nightmare that awaited her if she could not get it back. She had no choice but to follow him. She would find out which were his apartments and somehow steal back the necklace. She surreptitiously watched him from the tail of her eye. Damn, every woman in the room approached him, laughed up at him with open invitation in her eyes. He attracted women as if he had a bloody magnet in his chest, she thought angrily.

At last he managed to extract himself and left the gallery. She didn’t even murmur a polite excuse to the poor gallant who had wasted half an hour’s compliments on her. She followed him at a discreet distance to the fourth floor of the palace and was surprised to see how close his apartment was to Matthew’s room. She waited until he had been inside for a good five minutes, then crept along to Matt’s door; but it was locked and no light came from beneath it. Suddenly she heard a door opening and barely had time to slip around a corner and press herself to the wall. She heard footsteps going the other way and let out a sigh of relief. She gathered enough courage to peep around the corner and was just in time to see a tall figure in a black cloak descend the stairs.

He had had just enough time to put the necklace away safely and leave again. She knew she must not hesitate.
She must act now, for a chance like this was not likely to present itself again. She moved quickly down the corridor and slipped quietly into the room.

Her eyes widened. She was in a spacious, richly appointed bedroom, nothing like the small cell she occupied. Beyond this chamber, through an archway, was another, which she supposed was a sitting room where he could entertain.

The great bed, curtained in red velvet, dominated the room, and the pile of the thick carpet was so deep, the toes of her slippers disappeared. The room boasted a fireplace topped by a marble mantel and a mirror that ran up to the ceiling. She caught her reflection and tucked up an errant copper curl that had fallen to her shoulder. Her mind was going over places where the necklace was most likely to be. She stiffened as deep within the mirror’s depth she caught his reflection watching her.

He leaned casually against the archway. Gone was the doublet and his white shirt was unlaced all the way to the tight waistband of his black breeches. Their eyes were locked in the mirror and she found she could not break their gaze. The mocking look was gone, replaced by one that was as tender as a caress. “I knew you’d come,” he said softly.

She saw him move toward her and still she was rooted to the spot, so hypnotic was his effect upon her. As his hands closed over her shoulders to turn her to him, a great shiver ran through her. He was too close, too big, too male, too damnably, overpoweringly handsome.

“I came for the necklace,” she confessed.

“Did you?” he asked honestly, forcing her to acknowledge that it was not only the necklace that had drawn her. As she looked up into the tanned face, his dark unruly
mane of hair tempted her fingers. It was as if there were some strange bond between them, as if she had known him from the beginning of time. He bent his head and she knew he was going to kiss her. The moment he molded his mouth to hers everything was swept away— her anger, her fear, her resistance.

His fingers took the pins from her hair, then buried themselves in the coppery cascade. His hands left her hair and cupped her face tenderly, drawing her mouth up to his again. He whispered against her lips, “I’m half in love with you and I don’t even know your name.”

“Sabre,” she whispered, “Sabre Wilde.”

He buried his lips in hers again. His kiss was lingering and so compelling, she felt it all the way down to her knees. She melted against him, her breasts crushed against his hard, muscular chest. He whispered against her mouth, “Shane Hawkhurst.”

Her heart stopped, then began to hammer wildly as a million sparks exploded inside her brain. Guided by pure instinct, her hands went to his waistband and sought the handle of the knife she had vaguely noticed earlier. She drew it forth and stepped back panting. “Bastard!”

He threw back his head and laughed wholeheartedly, for she had named him correctly. “Little wildcat, the dagger suits you. Look at its handle.”

She was disconcerted that he wasn’t afraid or even the slightest bit alarmed that she had his knife. She glanced down at the dagger and saw its handle was fashioned in the shape of a wildcat. From somewhere he had produced its mate. “Now we each have one … a matched pair … keep it.”

As she faced him the full realization that he was her husband hit her. England’s law, aye, and God’s law, too,
gave him the power of life and death over her. As she faced him she realized she was wearing what should have been her wedding gown and she was almost undone. Tears sprang to her eyes for what might have been, then a raging anger dried them instantly. This, then, was the enemy. This was the one man she would know intimately, the one she would enslave, the one she would destroy. How to begin? Instinctively she fell back on parry and thrust. She curled her lip. “I came only for the necklace. It is mine!”

The mockery was back in his eyes. “It is the queen’s.”

“Ha! Whatever gives you such a ridiculous notion?”

“I gave it to her. You must get it back from me and replace it before you are discovered.” His words told her plainly her only alternative.

“In return for the necklace you actually expect me to become your mistress?” she demanded hotly.

“Mistress? By God’s blood, there’s arrogance for you. I had only one tumble in mind.”

She was so stung by his words, she lunged at his gut with the knife. He set his teeth and almost crushed the bones in her wrist. The dagger slipped to the carpet and he swept her into his arms. His tongue flicked over her lips. “How do I know you’d be any good?” he teased. His lips traced a path up to the tempting little beauty mark and he tongued it sensually.

“Since I’m untouched … I’d be only as good as you made me.”

Her words sent a surge of hot lust through his body. His hands held her captive against his hardness. He slanted an eyebrow at her. “Untouched? Unused? Unsullied?” He paused, then whispered maddeningly, “Untrue!”

She answered him in kind. “Unwilling! Unyielding!” She paused, then whispered her challenge: “Untamed!” She bit him.

He held her eyes with his. “Life is a game. This is a game between us, Sabre, but if you want to play, you’d better know all the rules. In every game there is risk. In every game there is a winner and a loser.”

“If you think I’m not going to win this game between us you are mistaken; badly mistaken. I have resolved to win!” She hated him with a passion. Her breasts heaved with her agitation and the pink nipples became more visible with each deep breath she took.

“Take off your clothes and let’s see how you show,” he taunted.

She pulled from his embrace, angry enough to kill him if she’d had her sabre in her hand. “Take off your clothes, my Lord Devonport, and let’s see if
you
measure up!”

Very deliberately he took off the shirt and slowly turned before her so she could inspect him. The impact of his body stunned her. The taut muscles rippled across his chest and back, and across one incredibly wide shoulder blade was a dragon tattoo. Desire rose up in her like a hot tide sweeping through her body. She knew a raging need to be pressed against his naked length in the great bed. Incredibly, she wanted to touch him, taste him. Slay the dragon … or be slain. Her legs would not support her; she slipped to the rug, burried her face in her hands, and sobbed out her misery.

He did not lift her up, but lay on the floor with her and gathered her to him. “Hush, sweeting, don’t cry. I enjoy being a cruel bastard. Mayhap you spoke the truth. But your innocence will be fleeting at court, my little wildcat.”

He smoothed the tumbled coppery tresses and shuddered at the feel of her hair beneath his fingers. He buried his face in it and groaned. “Let me be your protector, Sabre.”

An easy conquest would bore him quickly. That she didn’t want, couldn’t afford. She knew he wished to seduce her that he might be the master; she wished to keep him desiring to seduce her, so she denied him. “I’ll be no man’s mistress! Only my husband will take my virginity,” she vowed.

“We’ll see about that,” he taunted as he stood up. “I warn you, my efforts to change your mind will be relentless.” Grinning wickedly, he offered his hands to her. She arose gracefully without his help, but not before he had been treated to a display of her exquisite breasts. Without a word he offered her the necklace and the dagger. She took both.

Alone in her room, she was exultant! She had won the first round and couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she held the turquoise and jade to her neck and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “’Fore God, I almost had him begging!”

Next morning she awoke with a heightened anticipation that the day or the night would bring them face-to-face again. It was child’s play to replace the necklace when Kate unlocked the jewel caskets. She hadn’t felt this alive in her life.

When she learned that Hawkhurst had actually gone to join the queen’s progress she was stunned like a bird flown into a wall. She voiced every curse and invocation she’d ever heard and hurled them at the queen. How could she be jealous of an aging virago? But she was!

She resigned herself to an uneventful summer. She furthered her female friendships, learned to love the fascinating city of London, and with cool disdain kept the men of the court at arm’s length.

When Matt returned from Calais he let her pick a length of expensive French silk from his cargo, and she chose a watered silk of pale lemon shot through with silver. He took her to dine at Gunter’s in London, very fashionable; but it was a most daring thing to dine alone with a man. Matthew told her he was going home to visit his mother. She had been alone since Sebastian had died, and since Hawk could not undertake the filial responsibility, he must.

By August the queen’s wardrobe had been refurbished. Kate was pleased with Sabre and insisted she wouldn’t have managed alone one tenth of what they had accomplished together.

Sabre had had a busy day. Kate asked for her assistance while she went into the city. They had, with the help of an armed guard, taken the queen’s broken jewelry to the goldsmith’s in Lombard Street and the broken fans to the fanmaker’s in Eastcheap. Elizabeth seldom threw anything away, so everything had to be tallied on long descriptive lists and copies given to the craftsmen making the repairs.

She had still made time to exercise Sabbath, for she had begun to really enjoy her rides along the river. She didn’t discourage gentlemen from joining her, but always made sure she accepted more than one escort.