CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 27

Icollapsed against the railing. "You scared me to death!"

The prince observed me; my loosened hair, my dreamy countenance, the heat that lit the air around me. "Why didn't you scream?"

"Because I . . . I'm as witless as a peahen." That was the truth. If I'd screamed, I'd have had family and retainers running to my aid. Instead I'd thought to defend myself against someone who . . . who had taken his leave. Who shouldn't be here now. "What are you doing in our house? Did you forget something?"

He paced toward me. "I want to speak to you."

"How did you know I'd be out here?"

"I did not. But the moon is full and I thought I might . . . climb the tree outside your window. It's a Montague tradition, is it not?"

I reared back. "No! Nobody . . . no! I'm insulted that you believe—"

"Your pardon." He bowed fast and low. "I believe only the best of you, Lady Rosaline. I thought to tease. I should remember that I'm bad at such a human interaction."

"You really are."

"Do you forgive me?"

"Yes. Forget it. For future reference, don't ever joke about a lady's virtue. Certainly not mine, now. I've already been threatened with a nunnery or the stake."

"Who threatened you?"

"My nurse. If you say anything else about me, she'll do more than threaten you. She'll flay you alive." I looked around. Prince Escalus seemed to have slipped back into Casa Montague without causing a ripple. There should be servants, candles, an escort, deference . . . "How did you get . . . in . . . ?"

"I have my ways."

I really had to speak to Papà about security. "The Princess Isabella is . . . well . . . ?"

"My sister enjoyed the utmost protection as she returns to our home."

"What did you want to . . . say . . . ?" With each question, I had managed to sound more and more like a braying donkey. Why? What had become of my vaulted sensibility?

I knew the answer, of course. I'd been imagining an embrace with Lysander, passion with Lysander. This love was so precious, so new, I didn't know how to conceal it. I imagined my face glowed, my eyes shone, my bosom heaved. To have Prince Escalus, this detached, unemotional man, intrude on my romantic musings felt like a trip to the celestial interrupted by a slam back to cold, hard earth.

Prince Escalus seemed to detect nothing of my turmoil. "As you're aware, I'm concerned about the attacks on Duke Stephano and Porcia."

Goodie. We were going to talk murder. So not merely a slam to the cold, hard earth, but a face full of dark and dirt and maggots. Pushing my hair back over my shoulders, I took handfuls and braided quickly and efficiently. It wouldn't do to stand before Prince Escalus in such an untamed state.

He continued. "We do not know with certainty, but I fear you are the object of these attacks, perhaps to blacken your name or to frighten you as the web of evil is constructed around you."

I shivered at his ominous choice of words, and with that, left behind the last of love's sweet glow.

"I constantly carry a concealed dagger." He pulled a worn leather scabbard from inside his brocade overcoat. "I want you to have it, to use it if needed against the villain who invades your safety, reads your fears and plays on them."

My jaw dropped.

I had already received two weapons today.

Nurse, I understood. She was a strong female and knew that women who could die under the sword needed to be prepared for violence.

Lysander, I understood. He was young and fiery, passionate and protective.

But Prince Escalus, the traditionalist, wanted me to protect myself? Rather than advising me to remain at home as a proper lady should, or explaining why I should scream rather than fight, or finding me a husband who would shelter me (when he was not beating me) . . . Prince Escalus wanted to arm me?

Next Prince Escalus would say that the Chinese had invented fireworks.

I had stood speechless for too long, for he asked slowly, as if giving me a chance to catch up, "Do you understand what I'm saying, Lady Rosie?"

"I . . . sure." As with Lysander, I couldn't say, Nurse already gave me a weapon. Nor could I say, Lysander also already gave me a weapon. There was only one proper response. "Thank you. I'm honored by your consideration." I stuck out my left arm, which did not at this moment have a scabbard and blade wrapped around it.

But the prince knelt at my feet. In a conversational tone, he said, "This blade is small and sharp, and has served me well." He took my slipper-clad foot into his hand and slid his fingers up my calf.

I jumped. If this were a normal man, I'd knock him culo over pentola. But this was the Prince of Stodgy. Surely he didn't mean to—

"The scabbard buckles are here"—he gently squeezed my bare ankle—"and here"—a little farther up—"and the dagger's handle is hidden by your skirts. At the same time, it's readily available for your grasp."

The princewas touching my leg. "This is your dagger. You don't wear skirts." Possibly the most glaringly obvious comment I'd ever made, but the prince was rubbing his thumb over my ankle.

Chinese fireworks. Only explanation possible.

"I wear the dagger inside here." He indicated his wide-topped boots.

"I always wondered why you wore those—"

"Unfashionable boots? Yes, there's method to my madness." His hands moved on my skin, attaching the scabbard with metal buckles.

I stood very still. The leather was warm from his body, and despite the fact I knew Prince Escalus to be the most staid, proper, and may I say least exciting man in Verona, my female self sensed danger in ways I couldn't quite comprehend.

Naturally, he was unaware, and took his time buckling and explaining. "During the time before and after my father's death, I survived many attacks."

"I know." I was so tense, if a midge had buzzed my ear I would have jumped and screamed. "You give this dagger to me, and I thank you, but without it, how will you protect yourself?"

"I have other weapons, and to know my blade rests in your hand, a bulwark against future acts of violence—it's a service I'm privileged to render."

He finished attaching the scabbard, yet remained kneeling, the tips of his fingers lightly touching the back of my knee. How did they get up so far? And why had I previously never noticed how sensitive that skin was?

He looked up at me, his eyes large and dark, heavy-lidded, and they shone with an inner light that illuminated all before him, yet left him to dwell in shadow. "If I might offer the lady Rosaline advice on how to use this weapon?"

"Indeed you might. I don't know how to use a dagger strapped to my leg." To my arm, yes. That had today been explained twice. My leg, not so much.

Prince Escalus sprang to his feet, dagger in his grasp.

Reflexively, I stepped backward into the shadow of the tall cypress. Its sharp, woody green scent reminded me of pine and a hint of bitter orange and should have recalled the safety of home. But no safety existed in this night.

He stepped behind me, wrapped his arms around me, placed the hilt of the dagger in my hand. He curled my fingers around it and held them in his grasp. "In a fight, I find it's smart to duck under a punch or the swing of a sword, come up holding the knife, dive under the attack, and stab my assailant in the chest, abdomen, arm." Guiding my hand, my body, he thrust and thrust and thrust, first one side, then the other, then right through the middle. "Even a blow that's not fatal causes distress and distraction, and you can make the judgment to stay and finish the fight—or run away."

This felt like an embrace. Not a friendly embrace, a fighting embrace, but we were too close for comfort. I jabbed backward with my elbow and when his grip loosened, I shook him off like a dog would shake off a flea. I turned to face him. "I'd run away," I said calmly, as if I didn't hold his dagger pointed at his belly.

"And scream," he reminded me, seemingly unconcerned about any threat I might offer.

Which, to my chagrin, he probably wasn't. "And scream," I agreed.

"Very wise." He stared into my eyes, the stars behind him, his face in moonlight's shadow, and his voice wove a spell, created a hypnosis, and I was bound to this place, listening to this man. "A woman, or a youth as I once was, has no chance against a full-grown man."

"I know. I listen. I will remember." Remember what it felt to have his arms around me, remember how his hand caressed my ankle.

Holding his gaze, I flipped the dagger in the air.

He lunged for it.

I caught it by the hilt and in one smooth motion knelt and inserted it into the scabbard at my ankle.

Yes, it was foolhardy. Yes, I'm lucky I didn't skewer myself in the palm. But his casual assumption that I'd welcome his . . . What would I call them? I didn't even know. . . . Simply because we'd previously spoken without the presence of a chaperon made me sharply furious and—

Oh, like you wouldn't have flipped that knife, too, to make clear you should be handled . . . not at all.

The trick worked. Prince Escalus put his hand on his chest in a gesture of respect and bowed. "Where did you learn that?"

I curtsied. "My lord father would have his daughters know how to handle a blade."

"He taught you to flip a knife?" His voice rose with disbelief.

I lowered my gaze. "Perhaps we practiced that on our own." Knowing what he would say next, I added, "With a blunt blade. My young sister Imogene is the best of us children. She's wicked fast. Shall we teach Isabella the sport?"

He stared at me in horror.

I cursed my loss of temper and my thoughtless question. Princess Isabella needed us, and now Prince Escalus would forbid her return. I intended to backtrack, to promise we'd never teach Princess Isabella such an unladylike activity, but before I could speak, from above on my balcony, Nurse called out, "Rosie, where are you?"

I stepped out from the cypress's shadow and looked up at her, a silhouette against the sky. "On the terrace."

She leaned out and spotted me. "Foolish girl, what are you doing out there? Dreaming of your one true love?"

"No!" Out here, in the moonlight, I didn't want to talk about love.

Nurse kept me in her sights and mocked, "Come to bed, you can dream as easily in your room as on the terrace."

Prince Escalus remained in the deepest shadow, watchful, unmoving.

I truly needed to reassure him about what the Montague family would teach Princess Isabella, so I called, "Anon, good Nurse," and gave her a dismissive wave of my hand.

Thatwas a mistake.

Nurse echoed my phrase. "Anon, good Nurse? You dare say ‘Anon, good Nurse' to me?" Her voice rose with every word. "Hie yourself up here now, good Rosaline, or I'll come down to get you, and you'll be sorry!" She went inside and slammed the door.

I pressed my palm to my forehead and laughed out loud.

Prince Escalus stepped out of the shadows. "You've said ‘Anon, good Nurse' to her before?" he asked in a neutral voice.

"Not I. If I remember the story rightly"—I spoke with a humor most would not comprehend—"‘Anon, good Nurse' was my mother's line when she was fooling around with Papà."

It took the prince a moment to think it through, then he gave what might in another man pass as a chuckle. "Lord Romeo and Lady Juliet are rightly famous for their true and impetuous love."

"Yes." Speaking of my parents had defused the worst of a tense situation. "I must go up before Nurse arrives to beat us both about the head and shoulders, but I'd like to say—"

Prince Escalus caught my hand, bowed, placed a gentle kiss on the back of my fingers, and said, "Yes, I desire that you teach Princess Isabella how to handle a blade. The persons who murdered my father are unknown, the house of Leonardi is beset by my invisible enemies, and I would have her able to defend herself as you do."

Before I could catch my breath in surprise, he disappeared into the gardens' shadows. I turned away, believing him gone, when the breeze carried to me the faintest whisper.

"Your hair is beautiful."

I pretended I didn't hear.