Arlene James - A Royal Masquerade

Lily turned to face the room again, smiling. “He calls them the unholy trinity.”

“Does he?”

She nodded. “He doesn’t want to be in love again. It’s too painful for him, after losing his wife and child a little over a year ago.”

Rollie sent her a strange look, something snapping in the mysterious depths of those blue eyes. “You sound as if you know Prince Damon rather well.”

Oops. She glanced down at her cup, gathering her thoughts. “He and his sister are quite close. One absorbs certain knowledge just from being around.”

“His mother doesn’t seem to have absorbed that knowledge.”

Lily wrinkled her nose. “She thinks that he’ll get over his loss more easily if he fixes his interest, and, of course, there is the succession to secure.”

“Of course.”

He was still looking at her oddly, that mysterious glint in his eye. “Tell me something,” he said smoothly. “In your opinion, are the Montagues capable of acting, shall we say, unlawfully?”

She rocked back on her heels. “No! Why would you even ask such a thing?”

He shrugged. “I like to know who I’m working for, what to expect of them.”

“I find your question insulting,” she informed him with a tilt of her chin.

“Oh? Why is that?”

Why, indeed? She turned away, thinking quickly, and finally said, “I know the Montagues. I grew up around them. They can be fierce when one of their own is threatened.”

“Ruthless?” he interjected.

She turned once more to meet his gaze levelly. “Yes, ruthless, when need be, but not malicious, never that.”

He smiled, and something about it made her think that he didn’t quite believe her. “The princess is fortunate to have you,” he said silkily. “Such loyalty speaks well for both of you.”

Lily lifted her chin a notch higher. “The princess needs no one to speak for her,” she said smartly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the castle.”

She circled the desk, placing her partially filled coffee cup in the trash can next to the cart. He shifted as she strode past him and shot out a hand, clamping it around her wrist.

“When will I see you again?” he asked softly.

She stared at his hand, stunned by the weight and heat of it, only belatedly realizing that his grip was gentle, unthreatening. Carefully, she rotated her wrist, freeing it. “I really couldn’t say,” she murmured, and swept from the room. She didn’t slow down until she had cleared the tunneled archway through which she had entered the stables.

What a disturbing man he was, disturbing but compelling. And real. Perhaps more real than anyone she’d ever known before. How odd that was, to feel as if life was somehow more vibrant, more intense in him. He made her feel as if she had been hibernating, living half-awake. What he had done with that horse! She shivered and remembered the unsettling warmth of his hand. If she was wise, she would steer clear of Rollie Thomas. But for the first time in a very, very long time, she wasn’t sure that the wisest course was the course she was going to take.

Lily had scarcely cleared the door before Jock filled it. Wondering how much he’d overheard, Roland leaned back against the edge of the desk once more and folded his arms.

“Keeping yourself busy are you, boyo?” Jock said, holding his gaze level.

Roland shrugged. “Trying to. Where have you been? I expected—”

“What were you doing with Lily?” the old man demanded, and Roland had to tamp down his natural inclination to give rather than take orders. Reminding himself that he needed this job at least until the Montagues had been cleared as his sister’s kidnappers, he swallowed down a sharp retort and took a deep breath.

“Just chatting. Why do you ask?”

“Lily’s a special lass, due respect.”

Roland bit back an angry answer and managed to keep his voice light and level. “Are you implying that I would treat the woman—any woman—with less than respect?”

“You tell me.”

“If I have to do that, Jock, then you’re not nearly as insightful as I’ve given you credit for being.”

Jock pursed his lips, conceding nothing. “Has anyone ever told you that you speak like a college-educated man?”

“And you speak like an Irish curmudgeon,” Roland returned smoothly.

“About Lily,” Jock pressed.

Roland sighed inwardly. He was unused to explaining himself to anyone but his father. “We worked the palomino,” he explained. “Lily assured me that she is allowed to deal with the animal.”

“Aye. Go on.”

“She’s very good,” Roland said.

“As if I didn’t know,” Jock retorted.

“She’s determined to see the mare named Lady Doubloon. I warned her that the princess has the privilege of choosing, but as I said, Lily is determined.”

“Determined?” Jock repeated, sounding mildly amused.

Roland nodded. “She seems to think she has some influence with her mistress.”

“Oh, aye,” Jock mumbled, rubbing his chin.

“Lily says the princess will listen to her,” Roland went on, intent on putting Jock’s suspicions to rest. “She says the princess needs help with such things, that she’s ‘boring’ and ‘constrained.”’

“Does she now?” Jock said, inclining his head as a small grin twisted his fat lips. “Constrained, aye. Boring, never.”

“Do you think Lily can convince her to name the mare Lady Doubloon?”

“Without a doubt.”

Roland nodded, having talked himself in a circle. A change of subject was in order. “Is the riding party returning?”

“Oh, aye, eventually, I dare say,” was the reply. Jock folded his arms and looked up at him, not in the least intimidated by Roland’s superior height and size. “Now why don’t you tell me what you have planned for our Lily?”

Roland folded his own arms, mimicking the stable master’s stance. “Planned?” He scoffed at the very notion. “I haven’t planned anything for Lily. I only met her this morning.”

“She’s a bonny lass, is our Lily,” Jock said warningly.

Roland chuckled mirthlessly. “So I noticed.”

“Aye, and that’s what troubles me.”

Exasperation got the better of Roland. He brought his hands to his waist. “For pity’s sake, Jock, I can’t be the first man to have noticed that she’s a beautiful woman.”

“Not at all,” Jock admitted. “But you’re the first man she’s noticed in many a day.”

Roland’s brows rose high. “Is that so?”

“Aye, that’s so,” Jock growled, “and I’m warning you now, lad, much as I like you, if you hurt our Lily, I’ll come for you with hammer and tongs.”

“You and who else, old man?” Roland challenged.

“You might be surprised,” Jock said, and then he pulled himself up to his full height, such as it was. His round belly lifted, and his twill pants threatened to droop dangerously. Jock hitched them up with both hands. “Well, now that you’ve been warned, you’ll go careful, I expect.”

“Are you telling me to stay away from her?” Roland demanded, not at all liking the idea.

“Now would I do that?” Jock sounded shocked at the very notion. “I merely asked you to step easy, not to hurt her.”

Roland opened his mouth—and closed it again. How was he supposed to argue with that? Demanding he not see Lily and asking him merely not to hurt her were two very different things, after all. Roland looked at his feet and cleared his throat. “I don’t have any problem with that,” he said.

“Well, now, I didn’t really think you would,” Jock replied.

Roland lifted a hand to the back of his neck. “Listen, what’s going on with this Lily/Lillian thing? Since when do princesses share names with their maids?”