it.
Sebastien cleared his throat, which felt suddenly constricted. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the book of Latin. He pressed it into her lap.
“Truth be told, my lady, I’d much rather continue the hunt.”
And he meant it—pursuing her. Chasing a dream that was just beyond his reach.
The slight widening of her eyes showed him she knew what he meant.
“Seb—Lord Bedford.” Her hand covered the book and a delighted squeal left her lips. “Thank you!”
“’Twas mine. And now yours. I labored over Latin with my tutors and you’ll see my notes inside, along with many drawings for which I received a lash on the knuckles. You said you were trying to decipher the few words you could read on the sword and I couldn’t help giving you something that would aid your quest.”
When she glanced up, tears glistened in her eyes. “No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift.”
“A lady as charming as you deserves many thoughtful gifts.”
“Thank you.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Thank you so very much. I don’t even want to stay for the play.” She pivoted in her seat to glance around the garden. “Do you think I’ll be noticed if I leave?”
Sebastien let out a hearty laugh. “Most certainly. The legend can wait, but Master Shakespeare and the queen’s pleasure are another matter.”
And so was hers, because Sebastien was certain that Maxwell would adore the afternoon’s entertainment, just as much as he would enjoy watching her and admiring her every move and delight.
The curtain opened to the erected stage, and the backdrop, a landscape of a royal kingdom, far from this one, came to life.
Chapter Eleven
“DID you steal the Theodosia relics, Father?”
Max cornered her father in the courtyard before he could leave Richmond Palace for the night. Three days had passed since Sebastien had hinted that might be the case. It had been a whirlwind of courtly entertainments and games, and she’d scarcely had a chance to breathe. All during that time, her father had been having meetings with Sir Walter Raleigh about an expedition they would be doing together, and he’d not made time to see her. In all honesty, she was certain he was avoiding her.
Even when they’d resided under the same roof, he’d kept mostly to himself.
The sun had set and shadows from the torches lit about the courtyard spread over his features. An evening spring breeze blew a chill over her and she rubbed at her arms.
“I’ll remind you whom you’re speaking to,” he said, the threat not veiled but out in the open for her to hear.
Ignoring his ire, Max plunged ahead. “I have to know.”
“I’m not a thief.” Despite the severity of his tone, she believed him.
“I’m sorry, Father.” She wrung her hands in front of her.
“What makes you think I would steal them? Is it Bedford? Did he tell you that?”
She shook her head. “No, Father.”
“Then why would you accuse me of the crime?”
“I did not accuse you, merely questioned.”
“Your questions will get you into trouble. ’Haps I should take you home with me. If you deign to question me, what’s to say you do not question the queen? For your safety, I should take you back to the country.”
A week ago, she might have agreed, just so she could have the freedom of not having to meet his demands, since he’d likely return to London after escorting her to the country. But now that she’d had a taste of court, a taste of the excitement that was Sebastien de Rayne, her thoughts and ideas about life had drastically changed.
“No, please, Father. I meant nothing by it.”
“Then I never want to hear such talk again.”
“A boon, then, please, for my own peace of mind.”
Her father let out a growl. “Be quick about it.”
“Where did the relics come from?”
She’d deciphered the meaning of the legend, a love story that struck deep in her heart and moved her with a passion she’d not known she could
Sebastien cleared his throat, which felt suddenly constricted. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the book of Latin. He pressed it into her lap.
“Truth be told, my lady, I’d much rather continue the hunt.”
And he meant it—pursuing her. Chasing a dream that was just beyond his reach.
The slight widening of her eyes showed him she knew what he meant.
“Seb—Lord Bedford.” Her hand covered the book and a delighted squeal left her lips. “Thank you!”
“’Twas mine. And now yours. I labored over Latin with my tutors and you’ll see my notes inside, along with many drawings for which I received a lash on the knuckles. You said you were trying to decipher the few words you could read on the sword and I couldn’t help giving you something that would aid your quest.”
When she glanced up, tears glistened in her eyes. “No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift.”
“A lady as charming as you deserves many thoughtful gifts.”
“Thank you.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Thank you so very much. I don’t even want to stay for the play.” She pivoted in her seat to glance around the garden. “Do you think I’ll be noticed if I leave?”
Sebastien let out a hearty laugh. “Most certainly. The legend can wait, but Master Shakespeare and the queen’s pleasure are another matter.”
And so was hers, because Sebastien was certain that Maxwell would adore the afternoon’s entertainment, just as much as he would enjoy watching her and admiring her every move and delight.
The curtain opened to the erected stage, and the backdrop, a landscape of a royal kingdom, far from this one, came to life.
Chapter Eleven
“DID you steal the Theodosia relics, Father?”
Max cornered her father in the courtyard before he could leave Richmond Palace for the night. Three days had passed since Sebastien had hinted that might be the case. It had been a whirlwind of courtly entertainments and games, and she’d scarcely had a chance to breathe. All during that time, her father had been having meetings with Sir Walter Raleigh about an expedition they would be doing together, and he’d not made time to see her. In all honesty, she was certain he was avoiding her.
Even when they’d resided under the same roof, he’d kept mostly to himself.
The sun had set and shadows from the torches lit about the courtyard spread over his features. An evening spring breeze blew a chill over her and she rubbed at her arms.
“I’ll remind you whom you’re speaking to,” he said, the threat not veiled but out in the open for her to hear.
Ignoring his ire, Max plunged ahead. “I have to know.”
“I’m not a thief.” Despite the severity of his tone, she believed him.
“I’m sorry, Father.” She wrung her hands in front of her.
“What makes you think I would steal them? Is it Bedford? Did he tell you that?”
She shook her head. “No, Father.”
“Then why would you accuse me of the crime?”
“I did not accuse you, merely questioned.”
“Your questions will get you into trouble. ’Haps I should take you home with me. If you deign to question me, what’s to say you do not question the queen? For your safety, I should take you back to the country.”
A week ago, she might have agreed, just so she could have the freedom of not having to meet his demands, since he’d likely return to London after escorting her to the country. But now that she’d had a taste of court, a taste of the excitement that was Sebastien de Rayne, her thoughts and ideas about life had drastically changed.
“No, please, Father. I meant nothing by it.”
“Then I never want to hear such talk again.”
“A boon, then, please, for my own peace of mind.”
Her father let out a growl. “Be quick about it.”
“Where did the relics come from?”
She’d deciphered the meaning of the legend, a love story that struck deep in her heart and moved her with a passion she’d not known she could
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