Of Heirs and Havoc ✔️ | Of Crimes and Crowns Book 2

chapter forty-two: of rings and revenge

When Victoria woke, it was with something small and cold and metallic pressed against the hollow of her throat and for some foolish reason, she thought it was the tip of a blade. She scrambled wildly and felt an arm fall heavy against her waist. Thrashing even harder, she only stopped her blind panic, her chest heaving and breath coming in short, distressed pants. She had forgotten where she was, who she was, could remember nothing but this mad need to escape from this unseen danger...

"Victoria!" The cold, small, metallic thing moved away and the grip on her body slackened a bit. She could not relax; her body was still stiff, her heart still beating rapidly. "Victoria, it's me. Francisco."

She choked on her reply and her hand moved up from her side, of its own accord, to grip the forearm that he still kept around her torso. "Don't go."

His voice was soft but his words were not, far from patronizing. The scent of sandalwood and musk wrapped around her, and beneath it she scented the crisp morning air and heard birds chirping. "I won't."

Somehow, that made it worse. She stared through the slats of the treehouse they were in, resting on her side as she waited for her breathing and her pulse to slow. "I... I apologize. I thought... I don't... what did you put at my throat?"

The faint pink light of sunrise fell in shafts across her face and she listened to his response. "A ring. I apologize, then, for startling you. That was never my intention."

In spite of her earlier anxiety, she softened slightly and let a smile cross her face even if he could not see it, considering they were lying with her back to his front. Victoria shifted, feeling a splinter of wood scrape too close to her ankle for comfort, then replayed his words in her head. A playful tone tinged her voice now as she asked, "What sort of ring?"

"Oh, I don't know." He pressed closer to her, resting his face buried in the space between her shoulder and neck, planting a kiss there. She shuddered involuntarily. "The sort a man might give to a woman if he was interested in spending inordinate amounts of time with her."

She bit her lip and the most ridiculous grin spread across her face, making her glad that he could not see it. A sort of delirious happiness sank into her body and rested in her bones, warming her from head to toe better than the rising sun did. "Inordinate amounts of time? Such as... the rest of their lives?"

"That sounds about right." He used his grip on her body to roll her over so that she was flat on her back, the scratchy blankets rough against her cheek. "I would kneel but the integrity of this treehouse does not lend itself to such a precarious position. So, Victoria Rutherford... will you be my wife?"

Tears filled her eyes and she had to blink rapidly, letting her gaze focus on the ring in his palm. A gold band featured an emerald and a diamond, surrounded by tiny brilliants. "You had that in your pocket the whole time?"

"This is the sort of answer I get from you? That is it, I'm never proposing--"

He was cut off when she flung her arms around him as best as she could, suddenly finding her body on top of his. "Yes! I will marry you."

Laughter shook his frame and he reached for her hand, sliding the circlet onto her finger. "I did have it in my pocket the entire time. Now get off of me before you find out what else I have in my pockets."

If she was eating she would have choked at that comment. "You are far too scandalous for such an early hour."

He gave her a lazy grin. "My unseemliness knows no bounds. It appears to have stopped raining now, Tori. Shall we venture back to the manor, fiancee?"

She smiled again at the title. "We shall."

• • •

"There is urgent news for you, my lord, my lady," a liveried footman greeted Francisco when they returned. He bowed deeply.

He was discreet and did not seem at all shocked by their dishevelled appearances: Victoria had lost a slipper, scratches ran up and down her arms and hands, and her hair was a mess that she did not even want to think about. Francisco's tie was missing, his shirtsleeves pushed up to reveal tanned and muscular forearms--stop, Victoria. She focussed again on the matter at hand, on the urgent news.

"What is it?" Francisco straightened his shoulders, with that simple gesture changing from the unserious rake to a duty-bound gentleman. 

The servant looked regretful as he handed Francisco a note. Victoria peered at it over his shoulder and then immediately grabbed Francisco's hand. It was the queen's handwriting.

 To Lady Victoria Rutherford & Lord Francisco Mendoza:

As I am sure you are aware, Blake Rutherford has disappeared. I am suspicious of foul play and would, in typical circumstances, ask that you return to Arlea. However, I know you, Victoria, and though I doubted it would ever have happened a year ago, I am happy to call you one of my closest friends. I know that you will get to the bottom of your brother's disappearance.

Lord Francisco, I know our relationship is more of a professional one. Yet I also know that you would not do anything to hurt Lady Victoria (I would insert numerous threats here in the case that you break her heart, but my husband has advised me against it) and that you are loyal to our cause. Please, I ask not as the de facto ruler of The Sleeping Island (since it has not been returned to the Filipias, a fact I suspect was covertly engineered by your sister), but as a friend who is concerned for another's wellbeing. 

Time is of the essence. I pray that the Marquis would be found and brought back safely. 

Best wishes,

Natasha Blackmore

Victoria felt her heart shatter. With a ring on her finger and revenge burning in her heart, she vowed to find her brother... and to be the end of Celeste Mendoza.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! This is the last chapter of this book. Hope you enjoyed!