Ren smiled at him, oblivious to the rain. "There's not a single trace of anything! Keifer's n.o.ble lovers must have been clean. n.o.bles don't visit cribs!"

It sounded so sane and reasonable. Of course, n.o.bles were never pushed to desperation-they had money to buy the pretty son of a poor farmer if they had to bend that low. Surely if the women slept with Keifer, it was part and parcel of using him to commit treason. Had s.e.x and the lure of doing something forbidden been simply an easy leash to control Keifer with?

The darkest and bleakest of Jerin's emotions drained away, leaving him feeling bruised.

"Come on." Ren tugged him back toward the suite. "Come out of the rain, and take off those wet things before you catch a cold."

Numbly he followed. She pulled his nightshirt up over his head. She was soaked to the skin and shivering herself.

"You need to get dry too." He reached for the b.u.t.tons of her shirt.

Ren toweled his hair as he undid her clothes, dropping them into damp piles at their feet. All at once, it seemed, they were naked, pressed close together, kissing. All the fear and anger and hurt twisted into a desperate, consuming need to be together.

Two steps, and they were on the bed. Ren reached between them, took hold of him, and guided him into her. One smooth warm stroke, and they were joined as one.

"We shouldn't have done that," Jerin murmured much later. "Not yet."

"We're wife and husband minus a large circus act called a royal wedding. It's only a show for the common folk. The betrothal contracts are the true binding word, and those are all signed and legal."

"We're married," he whispered, barely believing it. A few weeks ago he was a simple landed gentry's son, without a t.i.tle, in an obscure part of the realm. "I'm Prince Consort."

"Yes, my love, you are."

"You love me?"

"With all my heart."

"I wanted to tell you, before you left the Whistler home, that I loved you, but there didn't seem to be a way. I never dreamed you would want me for a husband."

"A hundred years ago, and I would have carried you off that first night, Odelia and your sisters be d.a.m.ned."

She brought a basin and a towel to the nightstand. Dampening the towel, she washed him clean, the warm nubby fabric rubbing gently against him.

"That's nice," he said sleepily.

"Go to sleep," she murmured, drying him. "You'll need the rest."

He fell sound asleep, wondering what she meant by her remark, and woke to find Odelia joining him in the bed. Under the loose wrap, Odelia wore nothing. She was fuller in the chest than Ren, broader of hip, and wanted to try positions she had read about. Like Ren, she washed him before tucking him in.

"I wore you out," she laughed as he yawned.

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

"They should make it a tradition. No one ever waits for the wedding night."

"Someone must."

Trini woke him with a tray of food and a session that was mostly eating, talking, and tentative cuddling. He thought that they wouldn't consummate their marriage until later, but then Trini, in sudden silent resolve, held him down and mounted him from the top. Afterward, she lay on top of him, listening to his heartbeat until they both fell asleep.

Lylia woke them, impatiently scooted her older sister out, and allowed him to clean himself for her. She was nervous, awkward, curious, and eager. He felt like a mountain range, being explored, climbed, and conquered. Yet when she fell asleep tangled in his arms and sheets, he watched her breath, her so-kissable lips parted slightly, and felt deep, moving love for her. He loved them all. Ren's strength. Odelia's whimsy. Trini's pa.s.sion despite her shyness. Lylia's determined struggle for justice.

He kissed Lylia's lips, and cuddled her close, and fell asleep happy.

Chapter 13.

Jerin's father liked to say, "Over. Done. Gone." It settled many fights between his siblings, with no lasting hard feelings. They all struggled to meet their father's high expectations. With maturity Jerin realized that you needed that release from anger, to put it behind you, in order to work ahead. As children, his parents forced them to put the hurt aside. As an adult, he had to find the power to decide he had raged long enough, that his anger had served its purpose, and move on.

The news that Keifer's infidelity had left no lasting harm helped. And the serial prenuptial s.e.x worked wonders. So the next morning, at a cheerful breakfast with his wives on the balcony, he decided it was time.

The novelty of the husband quarters was wearing off, and he noticed now how shabby they were. The carpets were threadbare. The divans were battered from the princesses' roughhousing on them. Sun rot and moths tattered the drapes. The ceiling needed paint where damage from roof leaks had been repaired. Some of the ivory had been picked off the keys on the grand piano. Even the wallpaper was worse for wear, grubby from tiny hands as high as a child might reach, and peeling at the very top at every point the water damage had reached. What surprised him most was that Keifer hadn't made any changes.

Odelia shrugged it aside when he mentioned it. "He was lazy."

"He liked to make himself pretty," Trini said. "He didn't care about how the room looked."

Lylia pointed out, "Father didn't want the fuss of redecorating, and Keifer died only a few months after Father."

"Keifer came up with some plans before he died," Ren said. "It would have bankrupted the country. He wanted to gold leaf the ceiling." She took a bite from her toast, thinking for a moment before continuing. "And to tear out the floor and put new marble in-and mirrors over the beds. He and Eldest would have screaming fights over it, and he'd lock her out of the quarters."

"So he could be with his lovers," echoed between them without being said.

"If you make a list of what needs to be done," Ren said, "and give it to Barnes, she'll line up the workers."

"It would be expensive," Jerin said.

"Don't plan on gilding the ceiling, leave the floors be, and I'm sure it will be a reasonable amount. It needs to be done, love."

Jerin gazed through the windows to the ma.s.sive set of rooms. "Are we going to do all the work ourselves?"

"Good G.o.ds, no!" Ren laughed. "The workers will be closely supervised, though, and you'll have to stay someplace else. It would take forever if we tried to do it on top of our other work."

"I can paint-" he started to offer, but Ren put fingers over his lips.

"I don't want you up on the tall ladders it would take to paint the ceiling or hang the wallpaper. Besides, with a crew of ten or twenty women, the work would be done shortly. Think like a commander, love, not a private."

He kissed her fingers. "I'll try."

Barnes knocked on the door an hour later. He looked out the spy hole, saw her and the guards that bracketed his door, and undid the lock.

"I just finished," he told Barnes while they stood in the doorway. "I think it would be nice to go with the yellow silk, like in the guest room. It's very cheerful. That wallpaper wouldn't stand up to children well, though, so I was wondering, could we put in wainscoting?"

Barnes looked puzzled a moment, then nodded. "Ah, refurbishing the suite. Yes, wainscot is certainly doable."

"The drapes could be the yellow silk, but the divans and carpets should be something darker, so they don't show dirt. I was thinking green."

"I could have samples sent up for you to choose from."

Jerin winced. He was hoping to avoid anything that resembled his time with the tailor, looking at dozens of fabrics that all seemed fine to him, and needing to chose one. "If I must."

"I will try to make it as painless as possible," Barnes a.s.sured him.

"Let me get the list." He left her at the door to fetch his list. Their conversation had already covered most of the main points. "The piano needs work. I-I would like to learn how to play it."

"You don't play?" Barnes seemed surprised, then looked as if she regretted letting it show.

"We didn't own a piano," Jerin told her quietly.

"I see. Arrangements can be made, with the Highnesses' permission." Barnes slipped an envelope out of her coat's breast pocket. "A letter came for you from your sisters."

Jerin took the letter quickly. "Thank you, Barnes. That will be all." He ducked back into his quarters, blushing hotly. He had written his sisters shortly after the true depth of Keifer's betrayal came to light, but before Ren's announcement of being disease free. Initially he meant it to be a short, politely worded warning that he might be returned to them. His anger and fears, however, had spilled out onto the paper, all the sordid details. It ended with "d.a.m.n Keifer, d.a.m.n him, d.a.m.n him," which, he later realized, might seem deranged. When he gave the letter to Ren to post, even its haphazardly folded, ink-splattered appearance seemed slightly maniacal.

The letter back from his sisters looked so sane and unremarkable compared with what he had mailed out. Its looks, he discovered, were purposely deceiving.

Burn this , it started, , it started, once you have read it. You and your wives are in grave danger. We researched the Porters when they offered for you, and came across a piece of information that did not make sense until your letter. Eldest Porter and Kij were born to a husband who died a month after the wedding. The rest of the family was fathered by the Tibler husband. Tiblers apparently have a genetic quirk of eleven toes. According to their birth certificates, half the Porter daughters born to the Tibler line have this quirk. The Porter mothers and, of course, Kij do not. Kij's daughter, however, has eleven toes. She could only be fathered by a Tibler. The second husband died two years prior to the birth of Kij's daughter. Kij must have been Keifer's blonde lover. If the princesses are digging for new information, pushing to find this lover, then the Porters must act. Tell this information to your wives in private. Warn them to be careful. The Porters have proved to be extremely dangerous, and they are being backed into a corner. Do not underestimate them! Do not let the Porters know that you have this information until they can be safely taken into custody! Do not trust the palace guard or even the Barneses with this information; anyone can be bribed. We are coming as quickly as possible. If you need anything before we reach you, remember your aunts are as close as Annaboro. once you have read it. You and your wives are in grave danger. We researched the Porters when they offered for you, and came across a piece of information that did not make sense until your letter. Eldest Porter and Kij were born to a husband who died a month after the wedding. The rest of the family was fathered by the Tibler husband. Tiblers apparently have a genetic quirk of eleven toes. According to their birth certificates, half the Porter daughters born to the Tibler line have this quirk. The Porter mothers and, of course, Kij do not. Kij's daughter, however, has eleven toes. She could only be fathered by a Tibler. The second husband died two years prior to the birth of Kij's daughter. Kij must have been Keifer's blonde lover. If the princesses are digging for new information, pushing to find this lover, then the Porters must act. Tell this information to your wives in private. Warn them to be careful. The Porters have proved to be extremely dangerous, and they are being backed into a corner. Do not underestimate them! Do not let the Porters know that you have this information until they can be safely taken into custody! Do not trust the palace guard or even the Barneses with this information; anyone can be bribed. We are coming as quickly as possible. If you need anything before we reach you, remember your aunts are as close as Annaboro. BURN THIS LETTER BURN THIS LETTER ! Eldest. ! Eldest.

He stood, shocked still, his eyes dragged back to the line "Kij must have been Keifer's lover." Vividly in his imagination, he saw them in the royal wedding bed, twin blond heads bent close together, Kij's arms and legs clinging to her brother's humping body, Keifer's incestuous seed spilling into his sister's womb.

Cullen had told Jerin about Kij's daughter, supposedly a product of a grief-triggered visit to a crib. Did Kij's sisters know the truth? Had Keifer slept with his other sisters too, with only Kij becoming pregnant? As a younger sister, Kij could have carried a child without anyone outside the family being any the wiser. As Eldest, however, she would be in the public eye, and her pregnancy had to be explained.

And she had explained it well-no one until now even questioned the daughter's parentage. How well Kij must lie, to baldly claim not to know the ident.i.ty of her daughter's father. To claim not to know who was Keifer's lover To claim not to know who was Keifer's lover!

The letter in Jerin's hand trembled violently. Ren had told Kij that they knew Keifer had taken a lover! She told Kij that they wouldn't rest until the lover was found! If Keifer's lover was head of the cannon thieves, then Kij was quite capable of murder. Jerin reeled then, realizing that Kij had murdered the entire Wainwright family, and the crew of the Onward Onward, and all the troops shot down with grapeshot in Mayfair's streets.

Murderous Kij knew that Ren was looking for her! Surely Kij would strike first!

He flung down the letter and rushed to the door, throwing the single lock he normally kept looked, and jerked the door open. The guard turned with surprise.

"I need to speak with Princess Rennsellaer!"

"She's at court," the guard said.

"Send a messenger. Tell her I need to see her immediately. It's urgent!"

"She'll be back within a few hours."

"This is critical, I must talk-"

"Surely anything you require could wait until she returns."

"If you won't send a messenger, then I'll go myself!"

That struck home. "Sir, a messenger will be sent."

Jerin shut the door and carefully threw the entire series of heavy bolts, feeling safer with every clank. After the betrothal, Ren had returned all of the Whistlers' weapons, including Jerin's, as a gesture of goodwill. He had put his in his wedding chest, thinking then that neither he nor any son he fathered would ever have need of them. He retrieved them now, checking over them out of habit. He had unloaded and cleaned the palm-sized derringer when he stored it. After double-checking that the pistol was unloaded, he tested the hammer, trigger, and firing pin. Satisfied it was in perfect working order, he loaded it.

Afterward, he sat on his wedding chest, heart pounding as if he had run a race. Why was he so scared? He was perfectly safe. It was his wives who were in danger.

Am I , he asked himself, , he asked himself, or am I not a Whistler or am I not a Whistler? He might be a man, but he was also trained by the best spies the country had ever known. If his wives were in danger, he had to act. If Ren took his summons no more seriously than the door guard, then she might put off her return for hours. Surely every minute he delayed gave Kij Porter a minute to act without suspicion.

And if he waited for Ren to ride to the palace, hear what he had to say, and act upon his news, then Odelia, Trini, and Lylia-still at the courthouse-would remain in danger.

He had to go to Ren himself, and tell her about Kij.

The royal tailors had made him a walking coat to replace his old brown robe. However, it was nearly as revealing as the formfitting trousers he currently wore. Nor did it have any pockets. He changed quickly into his old walking robe, and slipped the derringer into the pocket designed to hide the pistol's bulk. His stash pouch, with lockpicks, matches, money, and other emergency needs, he strapped up under his robe, snug to his waist. Only the most thorough of searches would find it. He also strapped the shin sheath to his right leg, fluffing his robe so it would resettle around his ankles, hiding the knife. He stood looking at his deceptive reflection, a picture of mildness.

He started for the door, and then spotted Eldest's letter lying open on his writing desk. What an idiot! Kij had defiled the sanct.i.ty of the husbands' quarters once. If she or one of her agents found the letter, all was lost. He burned it, crouching before the fireplace.

It was the slightest noise that made him look up.

A strange woman stood in his bedroom door.

Their eyes locked in mutual surprise, and then the sharp, weasel-faced woman gave a smile full of evil promises, and came at him at a run.

Jerin yelped in surprise and terror, and half scuttled, half stumbled back and up.

There were other strangers, not one a Porter sister, coming out of the bedrooms. Five, all running toward him.

He shouted as he ran for the entry door. As he fumbled with the locks, he heard his guards calling on the other side of the door. Then the weasel-faced woman caught him by the hair, jerking him backward, out of reach of the locks. It felt like his scalp would rip from his skull. He screamed in pain, and spun. The woman wasn't expecting him to fight, and went down to his punch.

The others, however, took him like a flood.

Ren had dithered.

It would shame her to the end of her days, that the man she loved had sent for her, and she hadn't hurried to him, almost ignored his message completely.

Ren found the palace in chaos, the guard bristling with weapons, charging across the grounds. Barnes hurried out to meet her as she dismounted, pain filling the old woman's face.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We tried. We could hear him calling for help, but we couldn't get through the door. I'm sorry."

Ren stared at her in horror, trying to understand, but it was like hearing a foreign language; the words wouldn't take meaning. "What?"

"We broke the door down, but by then-" Barnes spread her hands helplessly. "We were too late."

"No." Nothing could have happened to Jerin. She just saw him this morning. She was coming to talk to him. "No."