“De Lara, if this is a joke.…”
Sean shook his head, moving to grab Sheridan by the arm in a less-gentle and more-controlling gesture. It was meant to be a dominating action. But Sean managed to very discreetly pull her to his other side, putting himself between John and Sheridan.
“No joke, I assure you,” his voice lowered. “I caught the woman hiding in the church. Were we to simply hold her hostage against the rebels, it would be a sentimental prisoner and nothing more. The allies would not surrender simply for the sake of Sheridan St. James. However, to marry her means that I, as her husband, inherit control of Lansdown, her wealth and her men. Men that are currently laying siege outside of the city. One command from me and fifteen hundred men will return to Lansdown.”
The gleam of lust in John’s eye flared, dimmed, and then turned into something else. Sean watched the king’s expression with such inward scrutiny that, for a few moments, he forgot to breathe. He could only pray the man believed him. The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness as the king digested the statement.
But it was thankfully not for long. John’s expression gradually slackened. Though naturally suspicious, he could not deny the Shadow Lord’s train of thought nor his sacrifice for the king’s cause. His features began to bloom with the light of understanding.
“Amazing,” he breathed, his gaze moving from Sean back to Sheridan. “So you have married Henry St. James’ daughter and heiress.”
“The St. James army is now my army and will do as I command.”
It was apparent that the king was thrilled with the prospect. He clapped his hands again, a disturbingly gleeful gesture in the face of an impending siege. But Sean was determined to keep control of the conversation before the king could do or suggest anything that would cause him to snap and give himself away. He stepped away from the king, respectfully, still gripping Sheridan by the arm. He tried not to appear as if he was hurried, merely going about a duty.
“I will take her for safekeeping now, sire,” he said as he walked. “I will send word to the St. James captain to return to Lansdown and then I shall meet up with my army preparing to leave for the Marches.”
Sean’s departure was swift but the king didn’t notice. All he could see was that a prize was escaping him and he would not let such a trophy go so swiftly. He took a few steps after Sean, calling out as the distance between them grew.
“I should like to become better acquainted with your wife,” he said in a tone that suggested it was a command. “Perhaps over a meal after Vespers. And I should like for you to attend me before you leave for the Marches.”
Sean knew exactly what he meant. Nine years had given him that gift of insight. He was marginally thankful the man hadn’t made demands for her at that very moment, but still, it would be a turbulent evening ahead. Though his body tensed, he remained controlled on the outside; he had to.
“As you wish, sire,” he answered.
He whisked Sheridan down the long axis of the chapel, turning the corner and realizing they were far from where he wanted to take her. The Flint Tower was in front of them, looming against the dusk. Sean took her into the Tower with Gilby on their heels. He had to get away from the king, anywhere.
The Tower was cold and damp. Sean took Sheridan up to the second floor, pausing once they reached the adjoining building where the nobles were sometimes housed. It was dark but for a few torches smoking lazily. Pausing to catch his breath, he turned to look at her.
Sheridan, thankfully, was composed in spite of what could have been a horrible happenstance. She smiled timidly as their eyes met.
“Now what?” she asked, trying to make light of the situation. “Do you plan to take me somewhere and ravage me?”
He almost frowned at her but she was smiling so charmingly at him that he cracked a smile. She knew how serious the situation was, or at least she sensed it. His smile softened as he gazed down at her. A hand came up to stroke the same hair that the king had touched.
“You will have to wash your hair,” his voice was husky. “I cannot stomach the man’s scent on you.”
She could see how anxious he was, which was unusual given the fact that the man was perpetually in control of himself. She pressed against him, curling against his massive body. Sean wrapped his arms around her, gazing down into her lovely face.
“All in good time,” she murmured. “What do we do now?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “This is not how I had planned our wedding night but I am afraid I will have to turn you over to Gilby’s care while I tend to the king.”
She nodded, masking her disappointment. “He wants to have supper with me.”
Sean’s face hardened. “He will be sorely disappointed. The man will never be near you again.”
“But… what are you going to tell him?”
“That you are ill, or asleep, or that you have run off in terror. I do not know at the moment. Anything I can think of.”
She could see how much the very idea distressed him. She could not know that he had been dreading this moment since almost the very moment he laid eyes upon her in the ward those days ago. Now it was coming to pass, that which he feared most. The king was on to Sheridan’s scent. Though she sensed Sean’s distress, she could not truly know how badly it was affecting him.
“I am sure that Gilby shall take good care of me while you are doing your duty,” she assured him quietly. “You must return to the king quickly or he might become suspicious.”
He almost snorted;he is always suspicious. But he would not say what he was thinking, what she could not grasp at the moment. One had to be in the trenches for as long as he had been in order to know just how serious this situation was.
“Not before I get you settled,” he said, taking her hand and leading her down the hall. “I would make sure you are safe and cared for before I return to the king.”
