Aleksey's Kingdom (A Royal Affair #2)(23)

I could see him now, passing around a bottle of rum he had liberated from our table.

It did not bother me. He could sit and drink with whomever he liked.

Left without my buffer, however, I was forced to participate more in the conversation around the table. The reverend fortunately did not return to his previous topic of his early acquaintance with me other than to comment obliquely that he was not surprised I did not remember him, for his son, David, did not remember his real father either—although the man had died upon the ship bringing him to the New World. He confirmed what I already knew: he had married the young widow, Mary, only a few weeks ago. This somewhat explained the complete lack of interest the three older sons gave the woman and the child. Indeed, they often seemed to go out of their way to avoid riding with her or sitting with her at mealtimes. They had their tent pitched well away from their father’s in the evening. I had already observed it was not a blest marriage, and the journey had led me to believe they were not a happy family. I wondered whether the fact she had lied about recently arriving in the colony on the supply ship had anything to do with this antipathy. She had not sailed from Southampton—unless Southampton had stolen Plymouth’s lighthouse, of course.

How much the family knew of her deceptions was debatable. Perhaps the reverend’s sons just disliked the new wife and her child on principle. Even now, it was the young lieutenant who was engaging the child’s interest: making him a bow and fashioning some arrows for it. When it was ready, the boy seized it gleefully and ran off into the trees. His mother seemed to relax a fraction and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. I glanced slightly anxiously at the tree line. This was not an English wood—a place where, in this day and age, little harm could come to a child. But this sort of thing was Aleksey’s job. He would by now have sensed my concerns and voiced them as his own, and he would be listened to. Eventually, however, I murmured to the boy’s father that it were better the child stay in sight. Mary Wright smiled, her eyes still closed, and said very boldly for a modest, godly wife, “No harm can come to him. Leave him be.”

The stepfather gave a weak smile and helped himself to some more cheese.




I DID not allow the normal two hours for this midday break. I had lost my pleasure in the day for some reason and wanted to be moving on. I took my position in the front and rode some way ahead—there was no reason the cart could not make this journey, but it did necessitate some more careful planning of the route on my part. When we were on our own, Aleksey and I swam the horses across the large river we were now approaching. This time we would have to wind our way down the bank until we came to a shallower place and then pick up the route once more on the other side. It gave me something to think about.

I turned around and rode back to Major Parkinson and told him to stay with the river on his right hand until they came across me again—that I was going ahead to scout for a suitable fording point. I swung Xavier away and let him have his head for a while. We both needed the exercise. I heard hoofbeats and increased my speed but mindful of injuring our horses, slowed again. He soon caught up. He was silent for a while, as was I. I then noticed Freedom was not with him, and he said, as if I had asked out loud, “I tied him to the wagon. He is very cross with me too.”

“I was not the one who angered and flounced off, if you remember.”

“If you use that word again, I will do it again.”

I said nothing. It seemed to me that given all the disadvantages of my position—that I could not love openly, that I was in constant danger of losing my life or liberty—I should have the advantage of not having to be nagged as if I were married. I was tempted to point this out but decided discretion was the better part of valor.

Finally he turned to me and snapped with some very genuine annoyance, “Did you mean what you said?”

This was tricky. I tried to work out which of my various pronouncements had angered him this time, but he must have seen my expression and added, exasperated, “I cannot believe that you think the only reason I do not return to Hesse-Davia is because I am afraid of hurting Stephen’s feelings. Are you really so stupid, Niko?” He hit me. “Niko? Are you?” His questions were always rhetorical; I had not realized I was actually supposed to answer this one.

“What? No. Yes? Sorry, what was the question?”

“Oh, you are—I could return to Hesse-Davia whenever I want, Nikolai. My uncles are dead. Stephen would release the throne to me willingly. I do not return because of you! Hesse-Davia is no longer my life—you are. Is this really news to you? Seriously, tell me that you had worked this out by now, being the great doctor and man of science and reasoning I once thought you were.”

“Once thought?”

“Niko!”

“Yes! I know that!” I paused and added in a low voice, “You would make it clearer, of course, by occasionally sitting with me at mealtimes.”

“Oh, did my poor colonel have to open his mouth and join in some conversation?”

“Yes.”

“I had a better idea how I was going to show you—I have joined you on this… spying mission… have I not?”

I was about to point out it was a recce and not a spying mission but then got it. I grinned and headed Xavier off into the tree line. Boudica followed.




ALEKSEY PUSHED me against a tree, possessing my mouth—possibly to prevent me speaking more. It seemed like forever since I had enjoyed him close like this in the sunlight that filtered down from the heavy canopy above us. The horses cropped contentedly close by. Faelan slinked off into the gloom on one of his patrols, and all seemed very right in our kingdom again. Aleksey nuzzled into the skin beneath my ear, which always made me laugh. “One day I will take you seriously, Nikolai, and then you will be sorry for the way you treat me.”