Beauty's Curse (43 page)

“King Richard, actually,” Rourke said. “He and Franz were friends, and he'd lost his lands to King Philippe while on crusade. I was doing my queen a service.” Rourke pounded the wooden stall with his fist. “I was watching him, and he never made a misstep.”

“Let's wait and see, Rourke, before we accuse him unjustly.” Galiana spoke more for Rourke's benefit, and not because she believed in Franz's innocence, although in truth, she'd have pegged Godfrey for the stronger man if it came to a shoving match.

“The castle's in an uproar, and Prince John was calling for ye,” Jamie said. “I told him that you and yer wife were on a tryst.”

Galiana felt the heat rise to her cheeks and looked longingly toward the stable door and escape.

“He believed it?” Rourke asked.

“Your reputation precedes ye, Rourke.” Jamie laughed, as did Will, but Galiana felt sick at the thought of Rourke with anybody but her.

“Enough.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Damn this ache. Will it never stop?”

“Rest,” Galiana said, knowing that once they found the stone, she'd have no right to tell him what to do.

“When do I have time for that, my lady? For certes, not since I met you.”

“What?” She stepped back, stung. “Even before then, I'm sure. When was the last time you napped, or slept the night through?”

“My work doesn't allow a deep sleep.”

“Aye,” Galiana said, the tears spilling free at last.

“Ye'd hate to wake your companion.”

“I'd hate to have a dagger plunged into my throat.”

“'Tis the company you choose.” Galiana turned, unable to stay a moment longer.

“Wait for me, lady,” Will called as he raced after her. “Wait.”

She paused, relying on her training as a lady to blink away the tears before she turned toward the squire. “If you could just help me find my room.”

“For certes, me lady.”

“I don't wish to speak of anything.”

“Of course not,” he said, keeping in step with her.

“Your lord is a difficult man,” she said.

“Aye.”

“And he doesn't understand how full of honor he really is.”

“Nay?”

“He should let himself believe in …”

“In what?”

“Nothing. I told you I didn't want to talk about it.”

He opened the door to the castle, showing her which stairs to go up. “Should I wait for ye?”

“Nay. I've decided that if Rourke wants to meet me for lunch, or anything else,” she added with a grim look, “then he can find me.”

She reached her room after a few wrong turns and thanked the saints it was empty. Later, after having washed her face and put on fresh clothes, she regretted her impulsive decision to make Rourke come to her.

The regret was compounded by the return of Lucinda and Rohan. Galiana quickly folded her hands together so that the magical ring was covered.

The brunette asked slyly, “What's that upon your neck? A love bite? The entire castle is talking about you and your husband both being gone whilst your husband's knight committed suicide.”

Lucinda giggled, not hiding her curiosity. “Is Rourke as wonderful a lover as they say?”

Galiana pursed her lips, not even thinking about wrinkles. “'Tis none of your business.” She lifted her chin. “Why would anyone care what my husband and I were doing?”

“I thought it was very convenient for you both to be ‘gone,' as did Prince John. But show him your neck; then he'll know your man—Jamie, was it—spoke the truth.” Rohan laughed with spite. “Better to be branded a whore than a murderess.”

“Whore? We're married.” Galiana narrowed her eyes, her fist curling at her side.

“All know that the prince wants you wed to Lord Harold.” She pinched her nose and waved the air beneath it.

“Why would he want that?” Galiana's insides were one tight knot as she kept her outside as calm as possible.

Lucinda tilted her head. “He was going to sever your handfasted marriage last eve, but you held the better hand, playing the prince's ego. I thought it was nicely done.”

“Magdalene is not happy,” Rohan added, sending Lucinda a dark look. “And when she's not happy, the lady Constance isn't happy, and when she's not happy …”

Galiana breathed out. “Prince John isn't happy.” Nodding, she said, “Lady Magdalene really loves Rourke?”

“So she claims, the cold snake.” Rohan shivered. “Besides, Prince John promised a reward to Lord Harold—which could be you. Ye've lands, and money.”

Betraying nothing, Galiana asked, “What service did Lord Harold perform to deserve an heiress?”

Both the girls shrugged. Galiana wondered if Lord Harold had muscle enough to wrestle with Godfrey and win—possibly pushing the knight over the ramparts. If Rourke didn't believe Godfrey committed suicide, then neither would she.

It was imperative that she find Rourke before Lord Harold did. If what she suspected was true, then Lord Harold would stop at nothing, including murder, to gain his prize. Who pulled the lord's strings? Prince John, on behalf of Constance? Or Magdalene? Lady Magdalene had said Constance wouldn't be happy to hear of the blackmail.

A loud pounding sounded on the flimsy door, and all three of them jumped back as it broke in the frame. Rourke stood there like an avenging archangel, righteous fury etched on every gorgeous angle of his face.

Lucinda sighed, and Rohan smoothed her hair.

Galiana stayed outwardly cool. “My lord, now I will have to find another chamber, and this one was difficult to come by.”

He glared, and she wondered what he saw. She glided toward him, putting her left hand on his bulging bicep. “Rourke, these are my roommates, Lucinda and Rohan. They were just telling me that we are the laughingstock of the castle and that all know we were out making lo—, er, engaging in a tryst,” she informed him.

He made a forbidding noise in the back of his throat, and Lucinda seated herself on the edge of the bed in a rush.

“I explained that we are wed, but it seems that Lord Harold—”

Rohan interjected, “Gossip, my lady—that's all! No need to bore Lord Rourke with it.”

Galiana turned on her heel and put her hands together, centered at her waist. “For certes? Mayhap we should go to Prince John?”

Rohan's face flushed a violent red.

“Aye, that might be best. Although in truth the prince seemed very, very angry. It could be best to go on another tryst—ah—not that I think,” Rohan stammered.

Taking pity on the wench, Galiana lifted one hand. “Thank you, thank you. We'll just head down to the great hall and see if we can find him.”

Urging Rourke to turn around before Lucinda started drooling, Galiana gave him a slight nudge to the hall.

He lifted a hand, giving the women a general salute.

“My ladies,” he said before turning and taking three steps forward. Galiana held tight to his forearm.

“That went well,” she said.

“Don't play your games with me. I found you.”

“You can't possibly be angry.”

“When you tell a blind man to search for you in a castle with more rooms than a rabbit warren, that man has the right to be bloody pissed off,” he groused.

“My apologies. You aren't blind, not really, and I was going to find you once my temper cooled.”

“Temper. Am I the only one to bear the brunt of your ill humor? All I hear about from my men is your sweetness.”

Galiana sniffed, but turned her head to hide a smile. “I never have an ill humor. Now. I have a theory…” She swiftly changed the subject by whispering what Rohan had said regarding Lord Harold. “What do you think?”

Rourke paused, clasping his hand over where hers rested on his arm. “I'd rather believe ill of my enemy than of my friend.”

Galiana nodded, feeling his anguish. She knew he would have cut Franz from his life if the betrayal were true, no matter how much the wound bled.

“Let's find Franz, shall we?”

“I have this itching at my nape that tells me time is short. I think we must find the Breath of Merlin first.”

She gasped, holding up her right hand to show him the ring. “Mayhap you're right.”

“Is it… glowing?”

“Aye.” Galiana twisted her hand lightly back and forth so that the torchlight from the wall sconces made the stone a brightly colored prism. “It's changed. We have to hurry. The stone is in danger—or else we are.”

“You're practically running. How do you feel?”

She bit her lip. Her nerves were taut, and her muscles clenched as if awaiting the signal to fight. Laughing, she said, “Like a warrior.”

“You are the strangest woman I've ever met.”

“Lucky you,” she quipped. She gave in to impulse and danced a few steps, which made Rourke laugh, too. Gali adored the sound of it. It seemed Rourke rarely found something genuinely amusing.

“Be serious, now, lest you end up as Lord Harold's bride.”

“That is serious,” Galiana stopped dancing. “As serious as getting hanged for thievery, or just plain killed because I've become expedient. Lady Magdalene wants you, my lord, and I am in the way of her heart.”

“She didn't mean anything to me.”

Galiana shivered. “Don't tell me such things. It makes me sad for you. To share something as beautiful as what we've shared and not have it mean something? I couldn't make love in such a calculated way.”

“What I've shared with you I've never felt before.” He coughed uncomfortably. “How's the ring, now? Is it brighter? Are we getting closer?”

“'Tis the same as it was—a sparkling sapphire blue.”

Now was not the time for an emotional debate. She'd be smart and capable so that he'd come to need her.

Rourke stopped before the staircase, then took two paces back. A large oil painting in an ornate frame hung on the wall, almost from floor to ceiling.

He asked, “Is anyone coming?”

Gali looked around the hall and down the stairs. “Nay.”

He pulled on the frame, and the picture opened like a door. “Careful,” he cautioned. “There's a step up. Stay to the right.”

“Where will this lead?” Galiana could hardly suppress her excitement. Secret halls! She'd never been so daring in her life.

“The treasury in the prince's apartments.”

Her excitement turned to trepidation. “Oh, dear.”

“We will be all right. Prince John went out riding, to relieve his temper, so I was told. The Plantagenets are more than half mad, I think.”

Galiana climbed up into the secret hallway. It smelled old and dry. Musty. It was as dark as the armoire she'd hidden in as a girl.

She almost asked for a candle, but then remembered Rourke had come to her without a light. She'd trust him to lead the way. He was quite familiar with the dark.

He closed the painting behind them and Galiana shut her eyes tightly so that when she opened them again, they'd adjust to the black interior.

Rourke held out his hand and grabbed hers. “Don't be afraid. Jamie and I used to live in these.”

“Ed and Ned would love it here,” she whispered, embracing the adventure.

“Did I meet them both?”

“Aye.”

“When I moved into your parents' chamber—that was a different twin than the one we caught writing the letter to King Philippe.”

“True.” Was he angry?

“I always wanted a twin. You could never be lonely.”

Galiana's heart lurched to her throat at the admission. “For certes, my lord, the good queen couldn't have survived two of you,” she said softly.

His laugh was her reward.

He stopped suddenly, and she collided into his back. “Want to see what kept Jamie and me enthralled for hours at a time?”

He opened a peephole in the wall. “Look.”

Galiana peered through the tiny hole and spied a lady applying fresh powder to her bosom. She tapped his arm. “Pervert.”

They walked a few more lengths when Gali had a thought. She pulled on Rourke's belt. “Which one belongs to the lady Magdalene?”

He smacked his forehead. “We'll have to cross over to the other tower.”

“Can we do that from here?”

“We'll find the Breath of Merlin first.”

“Aye,” Galiana agreed. “It was just a thought.”

“A good thought. One I wished I would've had. I was so determined to avoid the lady that I didn't think to peek at her. You've the makings of a master spy, Gali.”

Hearing her pet name fall so easily from his lips did strange things to her already battered heart. “I think I'll make a better guardian,” she said. “Hidden away in the wilds of Scotland, where nobody wants my head on a platter.”

“You are afraid, my lady?”

“Naturally,” she admitted without shame.

“I could love you.”

She put her hand to her breast and teased rather than answer seriously, “But you won't.”

He stopped. “This is the royal tower. The prince has his apartments here, as does Queen Eleanor—when she's in residence. King Richard, too.”

“Prince John's got the tower to himself now? Ample places to hide something precious.” She lifted her hand and the ring, which hadn't so much as twinkled for the past few moments, suddenly flashed to life.

“Oh!” She jumped. “We must be close.”

“Shh.” Rourke held his index finger to his lips. “Someone's passing.”

“How can you tell?” Galiana gently pushed him aside and peered through the hole. The royal hallway was stunning.

Gold paint shimmered from the ceiling, and frescoes decorated the wall. Flowering plants, in winter—Galiana shook her head with amazement—blossomed in ceramic vases. Marble statues of Venus and her cherubs were clustered in the corner. A door was closing, and she couldn't see who had just entered the chamber.