Page 82 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“You cannot even confide this in Eurydice.”

“I will not. I pledge it to you.” She swallowed. “I vow to be the best wife, Your Grace, and to bear you a dozen sons...”

He smiled. “You will call me Alexander, when we are alone, and I think three sons will do nicely.”

“As you wish.” Daphne licked her lips. “Alexander.”

It felt both sinful and right to say his name, much as kissing him felt both wicked and heavenly.

She smiled at him. “You should call me Daphne, then.”

“Indeed, I should.” His eyes fairly glowed and the intensity of his look made her shiver. With obvious reluctance, he released her. He seized a dark jacket and a cloak, as well as a large hat. “And now I will see you safely back to the castle.”

“But...”

He raised his voice and interrupted her protest before it began. “Upon my word, Haskell, must you bring your wenches and conquests into my own chambers? For all I know, she may havefleas!”

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” his manservant said, also speaking loudly enough to be overheard.

“Take her away and see her home again, and make haste about it.” Then Alexander changed the tone of his voice, sounding for all the world like the manservant. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Daphne might have stepped into a play herself.

The manservant spoke shrilly then, mimicking Alexander’s foppish voice perfectly. “I would have my chocolate upon your return, Haskell! Hurry, man! I will not be kept waiting for the sake of your wench, no matter how comely she might be!”

“Immediately, Your Grace,” Alexander said.

The two men exchanged a wink before Alexander opened the door. He pulled up his hood, then Daphne’s as well, then hastened her down the stairs and out of the tavern.

They were barely spared a glance by those arriving to work in the kitchen, and she was spirited toward Castle Keyvnor with impressive speed. He took her through the forests and by paths where they would not be observed, tucking her beneath his cloak when he heard a sound and sweeping her into his arms when he found her pace too slow. The journey was thrilling and all too soon, they approached the castle from behind.

“You are so clever,” she said with awe. “You could be upon the stage.”

He laughed, a lovely rich sound that made Daphne heat to her toes. “I will give up the disguise once this villain is caught, Daphne, and spend my days beguiling you instead.”

“I cannot wait, Your Grace,” she whispered and he raised a finger, his eyes gleaming. “Alexander,” she corrected. “Though you shall have to convince Grandmaman. She said that you would never wed.”

“Fear not, my Daphne. I will win her consent,” he growled and Daphne’s heart skipped a beat before he kissed her again.

The third time was the best kiss yet.

* * *

The thief was awake, for the game came rapidly to its conclusion. He seldom slept until his quarry was securely within his grasp and this time, he sensed that something went awry.

What had that small mark been on the back of the gem? It was new, but not a scratch. A maker’s mark and not one he recognized.

It troubled him, deeply.

Something was afoot, though the villain could not name what it was.

He was standing at the window of the chamber he had been given—a small room with a view of the working side of the castle, rather than the sea or the village or even the gates—at the moment that two cloaked figures made a dash from the edge of the woods to the back wall.

Their manner was so furtive that he pressed against the glass, watching.

Were they servants? He could not imagine as much. Every servant was hard at work at this hour of the morning. A noble couple returning from an assignation? There was no doubt that he watched a woman and a man. Did their actions have any relevance to his own plan?

The woman glanced up at the castle walls, just before the couple parted. It was Miss Goodenham, in humble garb. The villain recognized her immediately.

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