The Widow and the Spymaster Ch. 01

What an odd woman, Jerome mused. Despite his nefarious reputation, Lord Jerome's favor was courted by many of the beauties of Heathcourt. His influence and what he felt were at least moderate good looks ensured that if he was of a mind for it, his bed never need be empty. It was simply he didn't have the inclination or time with all the intrigues that consumed his attention. And yet, this lady on the fringes of court life seemed to shy away from him, and indeed, seemed poised to leap and run at the slightest provocation.

Jerome cleared his throat, "My lady, it seems you and I have some matters to discuss." Agnes continued to watch him with her alert, inquisitive eyes.

He decided plain speaking in this instance might be best, but nevertheless readied himself to pounce should she attempt escape. "Our good King Ernhold," Jerome began, "has requested I marry." So far so good, the lady simply looked a bit confused, and not a lie from him at that.

"And, your Uncle Bertram has consented to my request of your hand in marriage" or he will if he knows what is good for him thought Jerome sternly. Agnes' eyes grew wide and she gasped. Jerome continued on evenly, "the king has graciously given us his blessing. It is now only for the date of our public nuptials to be confirmed, with your consent of course," Jerome finished with a quiet smile as he took the limp hand of his stunned, newly betrothed in his own.

"But, but," stuttered Lady Agnes, "you hardly know me and I... We are strangers! How? Why? Uncle Bertram has consented?!" Agnes gave him a pained look and choked on her own panicky breaths beginning a fit of coughs.

Noticing one of the high priest's spies lingering by a tree next to the king's royal chapel, Jerome firmly pulled the upset lady into his arms and rubbed gentle circles on her back. As her coughs lessened, she seemed to lean into him for a moment before stiffening and attempting to scramble off him. Lord Jerome was prepared however, and simply cradled the lady against him with a firm grip. A cry escaped her lips and he pinched her chin making her look up at him and he silenced her with a hard glare. "You will not struggle," he whispered fiercely drawing her closer, startling her with his intensity. "You will nod your head and then let me lead you away," ordered Jerome.

Lady Agnes' eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but she found herself nodding miserably and after a brief hesitation when they stood, she took Lord Jerome's offered arm as he led her swiftly back.

It wasn't until they crossed from the stairs onto a dark landing nearing her chamber that Agnes found her voice, "I don't consent" she said quietly.

"What my dear?" asked Lord Jerome, although she was sure he had heard her.

"I don't consent to marry you. You said all that was left was my consent and I don't give it," Lady Agnes finished, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. She stood tall and kept her head high even though the darkly handsome spymaster towered over her when she turned to him. Her resolve faltered a bit when he smiled down at her and his eyes glittered.

"I'm afraid you misunderstood me, Lady Agnes, I meant the date of our public nuptials is something you may have a say in, not the matter of the marriage itself," Lord Jerome informed her. His voice had an oddly almost apologetic tone.

"But I say again, Why?" Agnes choked out. "Why me? I have no desire to wed again. Surely a man such as yourself could have any number of fine court ladies..."

Jerome interrupted her with an upturned hand, "I'm sorry this is not convenient for you my lady, but I am afraid the wheels for our joining have already been set in motion. Be at ease, I will not be a harsh husband and in fact am nearly always taken up with court business. My demands upon you, um... upon your time," he corrected hastily, "will be limited and you will want for nothing." Jerome once again gently clasped Agnes' arm to lead her to her rooms.

Jerome left the Lady Agnes at the entrance to her quarters with a chaste kiss upon her brow. He tried to ignore the scowl on Agnes' face that simple gesture had earned him. He had warned her not to leave her chambers for the rest of the evening. However, he had decided firmly to not inform his reluctant bride that he intended to bring a discrete priest in his employ to marry them in secret that very night. He briefly congratulated himself on not setting to work on filling in the secret passageway into Lady Agnes' chambers after all. His gut clenched in anticipation mixed with a thread of guilt as he thought about all that needed to be readied before he returned to her.

Agnes had asked him "why her?" and Jerome hadn't known how to answer her. She was vulnerable and unknown with no hope of having a voice against the likes of him or the king, for that matter. She seemed mature enough to not cause a fuss and respectable enough to fit rather neatly into his scheme. Most women in her situation, he reasoned, a widow left with precious little enough that they returned to the home of their uncle, should be thrilled to remarry, let alone to marry a Lord as wealthy and well-favored as Lord Jerome Morcant.

Jerome ruefully shook his head and sighed. He was an excellent liar to all but himself it seemed. Though the curious lady with her deceptively frumpy attire and manner served his purposes rather perfectly, there was a darker reason he chose the curious Lady Agnes Dewitt. Jerome smiled one of his rare, real smiles for he knew he wanted the Lady Agnes and soon she would be his.

Agnes considered confiding in her cousin concerning the day's drastic turn of events. The cousins did care for each other after all. Indeed, Emelia was the closest family that Agnes had left. However, Agnes delayed calling upon the frivolous Emelia for she knew her cousin would be only too enthralled by the drama of the whole affair. No doubt after hearing the tale of the impending marriage to the king's notorious spymaster, Emelia wouldn't be able to help herself spreading the news through the entire court. Instead, Agnes paced her small, sparse quarters before reaching a decision and beginning to pack the few belongings she had brought to court. Some of her things were still in the larger suite adjoining her cousin's, but that couldn't be helped.

It had been several hours since Jerome had left his beautiful bride-to-be in her shabby quarters. His mouth quirked. Jerome's chambers were near Spartan by choice in comparison to other courtiers, but they were large and comfortable and featured a huge, soft bed. He knew which quarters they would be retiring to after speaking their vows before his priest.

Four swift knocks at his office door recalled Jerome from his reverie. To Jerome's surprise, Giles entered without invitation. Jerome noted quickly a tension in his assistant's jaw and he rose from his massive desk, looking at Giles expectantly.

"I think perhaps you may wish to check upon your betrothed," Giles suggested calmly from the doorway of Lord Jerome's well-appointed offices.

Jerome's head tilted a little to the side and his eyes narrowed.

Giles cleared his throat and continued, "I have word from our serving staff agents that the Lady Agnes has requested her horse and provisions be readied by an hour before sunrise. She has already packed her belongings and set out her riding clothes.

Jerome bit out a short curse. "Where is the Lady Agnes now?" he asked Giles.

"She is taking her evening meal in her chambers, my lord," Giles responded.

At least, Jerome thought, the infernal woman was staying in her rooms like he had instructed her. He grimaced, 'for now,' he added to himself.

Agnes had managed to eat some of her supper despite the nervous energy running through her veins. The food was good quality at the capital. She could admit that. She took a steady drink of watered wine before setting it down on the side table with a determined nod.

It was likely insanity to try to run from the most devious and some would argue, most powerful man in all of Heathcourt, but Agnes felt she had no choice. She had always had an independent, if quiet, spirit about her.

A younger, starry-eyed version of herself had consented in marriage once before to the boorish knight, Sir Geoff, and suffered his grunting, sweaty attentions. When he deigned to be home from the gaming tables, he had been dismissive at best and thoughtlessly cruel at worst. Thankfully, he had rarely been home.

Four long years she had suffered being tied to that man. It had been less than three years ago that the brute had lost his life in a rash duel due to some unknown, perceived slight. It had added insult to injury that upon his death, Agnes discovered the loss of his meager lands in a game of chance the night before, leaving Agnes homeless. She had tried to be a good wife and attempted to dutifully mourn her husband, but had to confess to herself that when she arrived safely into the welcoming arms of her cousin Emelia, Agnes had felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

But that was time long past. Agnes no longer wished to be a pawn in the gross, abusive world of men. If Sir Geoff with his oaf's brain had managed to hurt her, Agnes shuddered to think what a man with the intellect and knowing dark eyes of Lord Jerome could do. She randomly thought of Lord Jerome's sensual mouth and his mild, ingratiating smile that somehow didn't light his eyes and felt herself shiver.

A loud crash interrupted her thoughts and she managed to keep herself steady, "Good evening Lord Jerome," Lady Agnes offered cooly.

Jerome had been amused when he found the secret way into Lady Agnes' room barred with a large sturdy chair in front of the long tapestry. It took a bit more strength than he first anticipated, and he found himself shouldering into the chair with enough force that it toppled over loudly, crashing to the stone floor.

To her credit, the Lady Agnes didn't even turn towards the sound before offering him a stiff greeting with her beautiful, rich voice.

"Ah, good evening, my lady" Jerome responded, "How well you look," he added silkily before taking a deep bow before her seated figure.

At this, Agnes turned to face him with concerned brows, but her stern expression did not mar her beauty. She had taken off the ridiculous wimple and her long, shining hair fell down her back like an amber waterfall. Jerome saw that the deep green of her dressing gown suited her pretty coloring very well. Not only that, but the robe cinched at her slender waist accentuating her rounded curves deliciously. Jerome licked his lips.

With difficulty, Jerome tore his eyes away from his betrothed and found himself frowning in consternation catching sight of the lady's riding cloak set out amid hastily packed bags. "Going somewhere?" Jerome asked dryly.

The Lady Agnes stood and regarded him warily.

Lord Jerome seemed deceptively lean due to his height, but Agnes had already felt the tight muscular bulk of him when he had effortlessly held her naked body against his clothed one before in this very chamber. One underestimated Lord Jerome Morcant at their peril, Agnes thought.

She found herself frozen in place as Lord Jerome sleekly stalked over to her. Why did he have to be so damnably attractive? thought Agnes angrily. He stood looking down at her with a mixture of heat and pity in his beautiful, dark eyes.

"Agnes, did you really think there was anywhere you could go that I would not find you?" Jerome murmured as he reached for her and gently traced down the side of her slim, pretty neck and shoulder. His touch left tingles all along her skin beneath the brush of his warm fingers.

Agnes pinched her eyes closed trying to ignore the stirring his closeness sparked in her rebellious body.

"I thought to give you time to change your mind, my Lord," ground out Agnes. His hand now traced her plump lower lip and then moved to lightly stroke her flushed cheek. She gasped, adding, "I thought you might decide to find someone less troublesome... for your eh, plans..." Agnes offered feebly. She felt like she was holding her breath as Jerome paused in his ministrations.

She blinked her eyes open to see he had drawn even closer without making a sound. His lips pursed in a small smile and his handsome head tilted slightly to the side as he gazed at her through heavily hooded eyes.

"I think, my dear Agnes," responded Jerome huskily as he lowered himself to nuzzle her neck, his arm wrapping around her waist drawing her against him. Agnes whimpered, but he continued, whispering in her ear, "I think, my sweet, you will be no trouble to me at all."

Jerome managed to deftly slide the Lady Agnes from her dressing gown leaving her only in her thin shift while he kissed and fondled her. He was finding it difficult to hold back once he had Agnes' soft, warm body pulled against his own. Once again he was struck with the "rightness" of how their forms fit together so pleasurably. He swallowed a groan. He had meant to have the priest marry them before he allowed himself the pleasure of her body, but surely she had goaded him with her plans to leave him.

He assumed as his lady was a widow, she was no longer a virgin and so he wouldn't hurt her... much. Jerome locked his jaw in concentration as he felt himself grow harder at the thought of burying himself between her thighs. He clutched her more tightly and growled.

To his surprise, Agnes let out an answering soft moan which he took that as an invitation. She didn't fight him and in fact clung to him sweetly as he carried her to the narrow bed in her small quarters.

Agnes' body was pleasantly flushed and she panted, looking up into his eyes with heat and a little fear. Her thin shift left little to the imagination, but his gaze zeroed in on her soft mouth and he kissed her deeply while his hands explored, stroking her beautiful breasts. Agnes squeaked as he pinched her nipple but was quickly distracted again by his questing tongue.

Jerome reluctantly released her to furiously pull off his fine, black tunic. He found Agnes beginning to try to sit up as he turned back to her. He pressed a gentle, but firm hand to her belly, "Stay, my lady," Lord Jerome whispered huskily capturing her bright hazel eyes with his own deep brown, "your husband is not done with you yet."

"We are not yet married," breathed Lady Agnes wrinkling her brow at him.

Jerome pinched her chin gently and ran his quick tongue along her pouty lip, "Nevertheless, my sweet, you are mine and have been since the first moment I spied you teetering in your bath."

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