Page 8 of The Time Of Queens (An Afterlife Story #2)

8

IF I ASKED YOU TO?

KEIRA

I swear I had taken to dreaming of Draven simply standing outside my door. His forehead to the wood, his hands spread out, palms to the panel, as if trying to feel for me inside. The door between us could have belonged to that of a bank vault for how much it stood in the way of us being together.

In my dream, I had been on the other side, sitting with my back to the door, screaming out in pain as if my heart was being ripped out. The silence was just another reminder that none of this was our time, as not a sound made it past my lips. The tears were a constant trickle against my skin, the storm beyond my window only mirroring my agony.

It was little wonder the second he punched his fist through the door, that I woke with a start. I didn’t know what any of it meant, only that it had me rattled for the rest of the day.

Pip and Sophia had told me that I would need to search Draven’s office as his desk had a secret compartment that may hold what I needed. Pip then handed me a small silver container and winked.

After that, it was just waiting for the right time, which meant relying on Sophia to let me know when that was. As for Draven, he seemed in a foul mood, although he hadn’t yet taken it out on me, and he even apologised for slamming the door to his office when surprising me. I had never felt like hugging him so much, as he looked to be struggling with all of this. Hence why I couldn’t help but tell the servants who were laying out his lunch about him not liking cucumber, hoping it wasn’t the thing to tip him over the edge.

Not that they had cared to listen. But then again, who was I to question anything they did? I was still the outsider to most of the household staff. Although, after what I had done with the cook, some of the maids had certainly been kinder to me.

“Quick, he has gone in search of our brother, which no doubt means they will be some while as he is in such a mood, I fear only fighting will calm him of the frustration,” Sophia had said the second she found me.

His office was next to a small sitting room, both named the red rooms, and when walking inside I knew why. His office was panelled in a highly polished red wood I didn’t know the name off. All of two walls had in-built shelves that were separated by carved roman style columns. Each one was filled with old-fashioned books with matching leather spines and gold print. There were also brass figurines, and other ornaments he had most likely acquired during his many travels across the globe. A marble cast iron fireplace stood nestled amongst the shelves, and was framed with a carved surround that held a fancy gold clock at the centre of the mantle.

A few oil paintings adorned the walls that didn’t have shelves and instead had deep-red wallpaper broken up by the ornate gold frames. As for the furniture in the room, there was a sideboard that held a crystal decanter on a silver platter that had matching glasses. There was an old-fashioned globe of the Earth that looked like it opened up at in one corner. And there was also a few chesterfield style red leather chairs, with small side tables either side that faced the tall window. But what dominated the room was the walnut pedestal-style desk that had one of those roll tops I knew hid loads of little draws underneath. A red leather desk chair was pulled out ready for Draven’s large body to fill it.

As for Sophia, she didn’t accompany me, as that would have been much harder to explain if we were caught together. So, I patted the pocket of my skirt, making sure my excuse was still in there before going to work.

Sophia had told me to first check the panels on the bottom half of the wall that had the wallpaper on, as she knew he had a hidden cupboard door there that I might find a coin in. But if not, her money was on the desk.

Taking her advice, I checked the walls first, finding the cupboard she told me about but unfortunately, I found nothing but papers that looked like legal documents. Land maps and deeds to the estate, such things like that. Releasing a frustrated sigh, I closed it and instead focused on the desk. Starting with taking hold of the little wooden nobs and rolling the top back. And just like I thought, there were multiple little draws to look through and little paper cubbies to check. Not a single coin was found, which was when I thought to check for hidden draws.

I swear, by the end of it I pushed every single inch of this desk and, of course, it was the very last thing I tried that made a hidden panel slide out.

“Yes!” I whispered in excitement, thinking this was finally it. I was finally going to find…

“Son of… oh shit!” I hissed as not only was the panel empty, I also ended up being forced to slam it shut. Then in my panic I just managed to pull down the desktop. This before doing the only thing I could think to do when I heard the doorknob turning…

Hide under the desk.

Please oh please grab something from the room and leave quickly, whoever you are. Naturally, this silent prayer meant diddly squat to whoever was up there laughing their asses off at my new predicament. Especially when the chair was pushed aside, and I saw the booted feet come to stand right next to me. Of course, I knew what else I would find when looking up and yep, there he was… all six foot four, two hundred and sixty broody pounds of him.

“What do I have here?”

“Oh, my Lord… oww!” I yelped in pain as I banged my head when trying to get out from under his desk. Something he reacted to by covering my head and helping me out, telling me,

“Be careful.”

“Yes… if you haven’t noticed by now, I am quite clumsy,” I told him, making him smile down at me. But then he must have reminded himself of where he had just found me, prompting him to take a step back and folded his arms because of it.

“Why are you in my office, and under my desk for that matter?” he asked in a stern tone.

“Ah that, yes, I am so sorry for the intrusion, my Lord, it’s just my mistress was looking for something,” I told him, all ready with my cover story.

“In my office, prey tell me, whatever could have belonged to her in…”

“…Your office, yes, you said that…” I interrupted on a mutter, something he looked surprised by. But before I could get into even more trouble, I showed him my hand and said,

“My lady’s snuff box.”

“Under my desk?” he asked again, that sceptical brow of his making its rising appearance.

“I do not understand it any more than you do, my Lord, but there we have it,” I replied, trying to move towards the door and make my escape, hoping my nonchalant tone and shrug of my shoulder was enough.

Unfortunately… It was not.

I knew this when he was quick to step in my way.

“May I?” he asked, making me frown in confusion.

“May you… oh, the box, sure,” I said, handing it to his outstretched hand and wanting to smack myself on the head as I forgot my 18 th century ways and with it, the stuffy way everyone talked. The only reason I knew what to say most of the time was thanks to Jane Austin and how many films had been made of her books. However, right now, his expression was still one of questioning.

“You are right, for it holds her initials,” he stated, making me frown and before I could stop myself, I told him,

“Did you believe I stole yours?”

He looked taken aback at my bluntness for a moment, commenting,

“I can see why Mrs Fitzwilliam chose you as a companion, for I do believe you hold more than commonality in your name but in your easy countenance and way of speaking, also.”

Wow, was that ever a burn. Although I couldn’t help but laugh at it, unable to stop myself from saying,

“Yes, my mistress is certainly blunt and to the point, but I find it freeing, do you not?”

“And what pray tell, do you find freeing, Miss Williams?” he asked, and thankfully I could see the slight smirk playing at his lips.

“The ability to speak one’s mind and the freedom it brings to a conversation… nowhere to hide,” I added with my own smirk. Again, his grin gave me hope when he remarked back,

“Not even under a desk.”

I laughed, as I had to say, it was the most at ease I had felt when speaking to him so far.

“How did you know that I don’t like cucumbers?” he suddenly asked me, and I was so shocked by the turn of conversation that I jerked back a bit. He must have heard me… shit, shit, shit… how do I explain this…

“Miss Williams?”

“I overheard your sister speak of it,” I lied.

“And you thought it prudent enough to say… I must say, that was most considerate of you Keir… Miss Williams,” he replied, stopping himself from saying my first name again.

“I believe others would have done the same,” I argued, making him scoff.

“To save their own skin, perhaps.”

“Serving cucumber sandwiches for lunch is hardly a crime, and hardly deserves such a punishment as being skinned… don’t you think?” I replied, making him throw his head back and laugh, clearly enjoying this banter.

“Ah, but I so very much hate the taste of cucumbers,” he teased, after first dipping his head and getting closer as if to warn me of this fact. And well, as for me, I was having far too much fun in our strange banter to give it up just yet now telling him,

“Then if that be the case, I would make your staff sign a special document, acknowledging some royal decree that not a single cucumber should make it past your threshold for threat of death and treason… or such.”

He laughed even harder, actually putting a hand to his stomach, and the sight nearly brought a tear of joy to my eyes. I adored being able to make him laugh.

“Upon my word, Miss Williams, you do have a delightful sense of humour. For if this is the freedom of speech in which you speak of, then I do declare you never change, for I enjoy it too much and would miss it greatly indeed.”

I blushed a little, unable to hold back my own grin.

“Is this another document I should perchance sign then, one made just for me?”

He chuckled before he dipped his head closer again.

“Perhaps I shall produce such a document, perhaps it would also be one of employment so as you can never leave,” he said, and even his own words seemed to surprise him. As if the thought had come natural enough to say without truly thinking it through.

I sucked in a quick breath but quickly recovered, opting to keep our easy conversation going.

“I believe you have enough people under your employment, my Lord, so unless you are in need of a clumsy, free speaking, often choking lady’s maid to entertain you, then I must be getting back to my mistress.” I started to walk away, but stopped when his hand grabbed my wrist. Then he leaned down and asked in a husky tone,

“And what if I am in need of exactly that, Miss Williams? Would you stay if I asked you to?”

I didn’t recover from my quick inhale. His words wrapped me up in a safe cocoon that made me feel wanted by the man I loved. His fingers caressed softly where they still held me. My eyes braved the rise to meet his own, knowing the power they held when the purple colour burned beneath the darkness.

“My Lord, I…” I never got to finish as Adam walked in, disturbing our moment by saying,

“Ah, you found it, thank you, Miss Williams. It must have fallen from my pocket yesterday during our meeting, Dominic.”

I instantly took a step back. Draven, in turn, knowing where I was going, flexed his fingers tighter around my wrist before being forced to let me go. To know that he hadn’t wanted to, made it all the harder to play the part, as I told him,

“Then I better get it back to my mistress… good day, gentlemen.”

After a quick curtsy, I left the room, unable to stop myself from glancing one last time at Draven.

A man who looked to be…

Falling in Love.