Page 53 of The Bride of Lycaster
“One hundred marks says he does!” cried another manin purple.
The blood drained from my face and I backed away from Riyan. I was not about to be part ofany show.
Riyan pressed his palms into the cobblestones and lifted his body off the ground. “Leave her alone!” He winced at the volume of his own voice and plopped back down on thestone path.
“Too much wine, boy?” Duke Hyton laughedabove us.
Riyan looked at me with puppy eyes as his strands of hair fell back into his face. “I don’t think I can get up. I’ll just sleep here tonight. Get inside and go to bed before they can harass yousome more.”
“Outside? All alone?” I said inslight protest.
He smiled, showing off that little dimple again. “I’m used to it.” He looked me in the face for a few more seconds and his voice became slower and more thoughtful. “You look justlike them.”
Before I could ask what he meant, someone yelled “Tear her skirt off!” and I ran to the palace. The crowd of nobles on the balcony jeered and hissed at me as I made my escape. I dared to look up at the balcony again and my stomach dropped. Mother was amongst the other vile nobles with Duke Hyton’s arm around her waist. She smiled wickedly on Duke Hyton’s arm as the men continued to wager onmy body.
Bitterness coated my tongue and I fought the urge to spit it out. Mother was an even better liar than me. She could act like the Baroness, but she was nothing more than the Duke’swilling whore.
I swallowed and retreated into the ballroom. I did not want to be around anyone for the rest ofthe night.
The ballroom was empty but trashed with discarded goblets and empty glass bottles. The candles in the room were either dimming or snuffing themselves out, so most of the light came from themoon outside.
I looked back out the windows at Riyan. He laid on his side, fast asleep already, in front of the bull statue. From where I stood, the rearing bull looked like it was stomping on Riyan or about to gore him. An hour earlier, I would not have minded if a bull really did gore him, but I looked at him with new eyes as he slept inthe moonlight.
He was not a monster. He did not seem to have a beast’s heart. He certainly also had feelings otherthan rage.
The tiny sun in my chest blinked to life again and warmed my blood. I shut my eyes, leaning into the strange warmth around my heart that pumped new feelings through my body that I named witheach heartbeat.
Pity. Empathy.Understanding. Hope.
I let out a breath and turned away from the windows, ignoring the tiny tingling sensation in my fingertips and toes. Was the blood bond enchantment finally working? Was I just really drunk? Why else would I feel…anythingfor Riyan?
But did it matter? I only had two choices: seal my blood bond and risk shattering my pelvis like the nobles had wagered or let my marriage annul and live under the iron fist of Duke Hyton for the rest of my days. None of my stupid feelings played any role in the matter ofmy future.
But not hating Riyan at least gave me something towork with.
A maid appeared and offered to escort me back to the conservatory. I took one last look at Riyan and guilt crept through me for leaving him out in thegarden alone.
We entered the conservatory and the maid helped me change into my nightgown. I tied my hair into a braid as I sat in the middle of the gargantuan mattress like I was drowning in a sea of blanketsand pillows.
I tied off my braid as I weighed my two options: Riyan or Duke Hyton. I pressed the heel of my palm against my throbbing temple and laid down, pulling a blanket over my shoulders like a shield. My body was shutting down—rest would have to come before anew plan.
I admired the plants near the mattress as I breathed through my headache. Above me were wide, heart-shaped leaves, tiny black flowers in the shape of fangs, and tall, jagged leaves that pointed up tothe sky.
As I started to drift off to sleep, the scent of the mattress tickled my nose. The scent was slightly masculine, probably what Riyan smelled like without the stench of wine. I took in a few breaths before I pinpointed the smell—nectar and wheat. As I was deciding if I liked the way Riyan smelled or not, a soft voice echoed inthe darkness.
“Serafina?”
I rolled over toward the voice. There, nearly glowing in the moonlight,stood Derrick.
I sat up on the mattress and covered myself with a blanket. Derrick stood next to my bed with a rectangular black case in his left hand. He had discarded his cape and coronet and wore a simple linen shirt and trousers. His dark curls fell in his face without the coronet to hold them back. His face was pale white in the moonlight with beads of cold sweat shining onhis temples.
“You have a lot of gall to come here,” I said with a snap of my teeth. “My husband could be back any minute! And after what happened atthe ball—!”
“I know, Serafina,” Derrick said softly with a wince. He put the black case down on a small table near the mattress. “But do not worry about that drunk brute, he is passed out cold in the garden. This was just my last chance to help you and I have a lotto explain.”
“Do you?” I dropped the blanket and folded my arms across my chest. “Everyone in Lycaster knows what happenedby now.”
“You are right,” Derrick sighed. He ran both his hands through his hair, stared up at the ceiling, and took in a deep breath. “And it happened in front of allthose eyes.”
