Chapter twenty four
A warning like that was tempting enough to explore. And he was falling for it. But then, his conscience brought the thought of his position in the Monarchy and Elizabeth back into his mind. Sometimes he wondered why he always listened to it.
He grinned and heeded to the warning. Of course he knew better than to dare someone who made the word DARING herself.
He went straight to washing the blood of the cut with some fresh water and a towel. Well this one did not seem to excite the Scottish in any way. The pinching pain made her groan for real this time, but she stayed still.
However, she had gotten a laugh out of the Duke as she heard him say, "You pervertive little maiden. How did that feel?"
She laughed away her worries and sighed genuinely, relishing the warmth she felt because of his presence. This time, it was something innocent, and sad. Because somewhere deep down, she knew they'd flirt all they want but he would still go find some BEFITTING.
And that was something she knew she wasn't, "Your Grace…"
"Mmmm…"Philip replied but did not as much as look up from the bleeding slit he was wiping off.
She took her eyes above her, looking lost in the moment, "I'm sorry for everything. I'm talking about my manners and the likes, clearly it irritates people like Jason. Let's just say I lacked what you all had for a lovely childhood."
He released a chuckle at her words. Soon after, a frown replaced his flawless face, "Lovely childhood? My father never really gave me that. He was there…but wasn't there. If you understand." When Monica turned to look at him, he snarled the rest of his words, "Why else do you think I detest Dukedom?"
She smiled and blinked, "Looking on the bright side, you met me."
Gawking at the way her lips curved to a teasing smirk, he cautiously looked away and put a grip around the bottle of rum, "This may hurt."
And it did...
Monica suppressed a groan unsuccessfully when the liquid ran down her back just across the wound. But the effect had just begun.
The spiking sensation afterwards could have made her shriek. However, Philip put his arms supportively around her shoulders, urging her still and sending an assuring smile to her.
Her breathing began to retard to normal after a few seconds of that action of his. She looked at the lad again, forcing a smile in appreciation.
But just like the last time, the eye contact was short-lived as the Duke turned away cautiously.
Why did he have to be that coy minded…she groaned inwardly.
Just as she was still seething in rage, she felt a sticky band being placed to cover her injury, giving one of the most soothing sensations she'd felt in a while.
Next he gently pulled her out of the tub, keeping his eyes off her naked body.
The lady didn't seem to have much of a problem if he looked at it anyway. Why did he have to be so proper and respectful to those who didn't want it.
But she did enjoy what he did next.
He wrapped her completely in a towel and lifted her into his arms, and to her, she could sleep there forever if need be. It was a strange sense of comfort that brought to urge to keep him to herself. But then she planned to run away in the end.
At the thought, her eyes closed and she snuggled against him. To her, it was taking the best of life while it lasted.
Philip looked down at her, relieved that this time, she had her eyes closed. And comfortably, he preened his gaze on her, finding just an innocent, vulnerable maiden in his arms.
Who would think she once fished under water. Or even brought down two monarchs in a sword fight. And maybe caught a deer from an overly formidable distance. She even had the courage to flirt with noblemen.
And that was when he realized, it was certainly the type of woman he needed in his life.
He placed her upon the bed, pulling the think duvets over her wrapped body, "Goodnight Monica."
She smiled in her sleep and turned to her side, "Goodnight Philip."
He inclined his head, strangely finding the sound of his name on her lips far more comforting than how she normally called him.
But while he turned away to the door, he was painfully unaware his mirth was going to be short-lived as long as he had the two peskiest things he knew under his roof with him.
Jason and Earl smirked at him while he approached through the doorway. He frowned at them, looked back at the door and realized they were there for the usuals, spoiling his mood. "Do not make a mountain out of this. I was just treating her wounds," He rasped with a near snare."
The Earl of Vetcom raised his arms in defense and fake innocence, "I can't remember saying a word about this." But then a small smirk showed on his lips while he made a tease, "But I must say, I admire your method of treatment in the shower."
Philip followed his gaze down to his own wet clothes and rolled his eyes, taking them to the Marquess soon after, expecting his own part of the joke to come out anytime now.
Earl smiled warmly and knowingly. Putting his arms over his chest, he inclined his face, "Why don't we tell Elizabeth. I mean she might need this sort of treatment one day."
The Duke groaned and frowned at them. Even with them in the way, he squeezed through easily and walked past, "You two are very horrible friends."
They turned to watch his back with their smiles never leaving their faces.
Just before Philip turned off the hallway into the drawing room, he spat an order, "We have a big day tomorrow. Retire to bed."
***
Lord Mathayus frowned at his younger brother, "What was that?"
The secretary of Lancaster bowed his head in frustration while he returned the frown. With a sigh of surrender, he strode round the table and took a seat across from him, "I said…our men tracked the Duke of Anfield and his allies. They live in St Ives, London for now."
Mathayus still had his dark glower despite the supposedly fathomable news, "Do tell me Nichols, when is the best moment to carry out this…move?"
"And what is this move," the secretary asked reasonably.
The Duke was now the frustrated one. He pointed at the shelf of weapons he had mentioned earlier and spoke too calmly in contrast to his spiking mood, "We will use those to attack Lord Philip, take the seal and meet King Louis before he does."
His brother nodded in understanding while a smile of fulfillment centered on his face, "If you ask me, I'll say as soon as tomorrow night."
"And why's that," The Duke tapped his temple.
His younger brother almost lost his patience. However, he simply slipped out a scroll and parted it open, placing it just before the older man. "Edward Vizal," he began, "Duke of St Ives. He will be hosting one of those men's parties he hosts whenever he feels like bedding foreign women."
"Foreign women," Mathayus's glower deepened to a solemn glare of frustration. He was talking about the seal of Kilmarnock and Nichols was…
"Yes. Foreign women. Harlots and dancers from all around Asia," the younger man answered while he scratched his stubble.
Mathayus laughed in anger, wondering what foreign women had to do with his attack on the Duke tomorrow night, "You are not making a point."
The secretary leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table in a pragmatic pose, "As I said earlier, it's a men's party. We all will surely be welcomed for our status and gender."
Fed up, The Duke asked the main question on his mind to cut the to and fro balderdash short, "Good. You've explained all that. My question still remains…why are we going to a party when we haunt the Duke of Anfield."
That was when Nichols realized he hadn't really been explaining anything tangible to the man forehand. With a frown, he nodded and accepted his blunder, "Because the Duke of Anfield will also be there."
Now his elder brother nodded with a grin as he pushed himself from the table. Clutching a decanter of Scotch, he poured out two cups and handed one to his brother. He seemed pleased enough, "Good and fine. However," the smile faded away, "It would have been much less frustrating if you had said this from the start."
Nichols sipped and said his reply through a grin, "Do not blame me for it Your Grace. I always save the best for the last, including the fact that Monica Maitland will not be there. She would be the most of our concern."
Mathayus gawked in confusion. Relief was there but most of it was confusion, "Why wouldn't she want to attend such a beautiful party?"
"It's a men's party," Nichols stated angrily for the third time, "the only women allowed are the harlots and dancers meant to play with the guests."
The Duke nodded as if he'd known that and beckoned on him to continue.
And he did, "We take all noblemen we have and go to Lord Edward's party, haunt the Duke and his male allies, get the seal and make it to the King's palace. Fish in a barrel."
The other man raised his glass and plastered a tiny smile, "To Kilmarnock."
"To Kilmarnock," Nichols did the same.