Claire Delacroix (15 page)

Baird smiled. “Not me.” He handed a couple of bills to the boy and waved away the offer of change. “It’s a long drive from town. Keep that for yourself and your car.”

The kid scanned the notes, then grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you, sir. Petrol’s freaking expensive up thisaway. That’s right generous of you, sir.” He bobbed his head, took one last gawk around his old haunt, and was gone.

Baird was sure all the former playmates would hear at the pub tonight what had been done to Dunhelm, at least so far.

Julian sauntered into the hall, his tie loosened in an apparent concession to casual dining, and took a disdainful sniff. “Fish pizza?”

“No. Regular pizza, but the fish and chips shop is the only place that makes any.” Baird plopped the boxes on a folding table and opened one. The pizza inside proved to be heavily laden with sausage. “One’s supposed to be vegetarian. I forget which.”

Julian grimaced and poked open the second box with a fingertip. “Probably got turnips on it,” he muttered and sniffed suspiciously.

“Well, good evening, darlings,” Marissa cooed from the doorway. “I certainly hope I’m not late.”

Julian didn’t even look up. “Just in time for something Baird optimistically calls pizza.”

Undeterred, Marissa smiled and swept into the room, dressed in a flowing pantsuit of sage green. Probably silk, Baird guessed, because he knew more about Marissa’s extravagant taste that anything about women’s clothes. Her hair was loose, an uncharacteristic choice, and Baird was sure it was the first time he had seen her without dark lipstick.

Go figure. He’d never imagined Marissa dressed in anything other than black. Baird’s glance slid to Julian, noting again the lawyer’s loosened tie.

Dunhelm apparently worked its magic on everyone.

Marissa sniffed, then shivered indulgently. “Pizza for dinner? It smells positively divine!”

Julian cocked a brow at Marissa. “You’re joking, right? Either that or you’ve been living on airline food too long. This pizza smells like fish.”

“Julian, don’t be silly, darling. I’m sure whatever Baird ordered will be simply marvelous.” Marissa’s voice dropped to a seductive murmur. “Aren’t you just famished, Baird?”

Aurelia swept into the room in that moment, and anything Baird might have said to Marissa was completely forgotten.

She looked like a Dark Age goddess come to life. The light of the setting sun toyed with the gold of her hair and made the proud tilt of her chin look more regal than ever.

Her hair was plaited with an intricacy that rivaled the carving on the stone before her chamber, countless blond braids tucked and woven and looped into a headdress of fantastic design. She wore a tunic of a sapphire blue print that seemed vaguely familiar to Baird, though he couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

It certainly didn’t look like anything Marissa would wear, so couldn’t have been The Loan.

The tunic was pinned at Aurelia’s shoulders, then fell open to reveal the creamy sleeves of the dress she wore underneath. Long silken sleeves nearly covered her hands, a sweep of ivory brushed the floor in her wake. The tunic was hemmed with wide border that fell just below Aurelia’s knees, its fullness pulled in by a glossy golden cord hung with lavish tassels.

If nothing else, she was playing any eighth century fantasy to the hilt. That confusing protective urge roared to life once more and Baird promised himself that he would not only solve the mystery of Hekod’s disappearance, but see Aurelia’s confusion sorted out before he left Dunhelm.

It was the only decent thing to do.

Aurelia stepped forward, her azure gaze locked challengingly with his own and Baird realized, to his dismay, that her feet were bare.

His mouth went dry.

“The bitch!” Marissa hissed. She pushed past Baird so impatiently that she nearly sent him sprawling. “She’s torn up one of my sheets!”

Baird looked again, recognized the print of Aurelia’s tunic and realized simultaneously that her belt was a curtain tie-back.

His lips quirked despite himself.

But Marissa was across the room like a shot, her hand shaking as she scooped up a fistful of the sheet Aurelia had fashioned into a dress.

“My sheets!” she murmured, turning the fabric over and over in her hands. “My precious sheets! Two hundred and fifty count Egyptian cotton percale. Special ordered, a design exclusive.”

She fired a lethal glance at Aurelia, who stood as straight and impassive as a queen. Marissa’s fingers clenched in the fabric and she gave it a savage shake. “How could you destroy my bed linens?”

“Bed linens?” Aurelia blinked in obvious astonishment. “You mean only to sleep on such fine fabrics?”

“Of course!” Marissa raged. She flung out her hands, but Aurelia did not even flinch. “Why else would they have been on the bed? What kind of a backwoods upbringing have you had, that you don’t even know a sheet when you see it?”

Aurelia’s lips tightened and her blue gaze turned glacial. “I have always slept in a fur-lined cloak, wrought of samite carried by my sire from the markets of Micklegarth.” She fixed a stern glance on Marissa. “Bed linens, as everyone knows, when used over and over again, do nothing but promote fleas.”

Julian choked back his laughter.

“Fleas? Ugh!” Marissa grimaced, then she seemed to recall where she was. She flicked a glance to Baird and summoned a falsely sweet smile. Her voice dropped to a friendly tone that Baird knew was contrived and her accent made a curtain call. “Wasn’t my favorite silk dress good enough for you, darling?”

“Such a fine chemise is a wonder next to the skin, but hardly appropriate to wear alone to the board.” Aurelia’s tone was cutting, and Baird marveled at the intelligence shining in her eyes. This time he knew without a doubt that she wasn’t as dumb as she would have him believe.

And that fired his blood even more than her bare feet did.

“Not appropriate?” Marissa’s mouth worked silently for a moment. “Not appropriate? I’ll have you know that that is a Donna Karan pure silk dress that cost a fortune at Bloomingdales, darling! It has seen more fine restaurants in style than the likes of you could even begin to imagine!”

Baird decided it was time to intervene, before Marissa said something they would all regret.

“Well! Enough about clothes.” His tone was deliberately cheerful. “How about dinner?”

“These pizzas aren’t going to be any better cold,” Julian added. “Can’t you two have your catfight later?”

“Catfight?” Marissa rounded on Julian with flashing eyes and must have caught a glimpse of Baird stepping closer in the process.

Her mouth twisted for a moment, then she turned back to Aurelia with a honeyed smile. “You were supposed to wear the undies next to your skin, darling,” she said through gritted teeth. “Poor Aurelia, all this proper dress must be so very complicated to you after the simple rural life you’ve lived. Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be perfectly happy to explain every little detail to you.”

“Undies?” Aurelia sniffed with disdain. “What kind of a woman wears such little bits of nothing as that?”

Baird looked to Aurelia in amazement. Could it be that more than her feet were bare? It was too easy to remember the lean perfection of Aurelia’s legs, legs that might right now be brushing against the creamy silk of Marissa’s dress without interference.

“Could we just eat already?” Julian demanded in exasperation.

“Marissa, leave it be,” Baird interjected firmly, putting his own tempting thoughts aside with an effort. “We have plenty of sheets and tomorrow, I’ll take Aurelia to get more clothes. You’ll have your favorite dress back.”

“I’m not even sure that I’d want it back from someone who knows so much about fleas!”

“I’ll have it cleaned.” Baird looked sternly at each woman in turn. “And now, let’s eat.”

“Hey, Mort, I need an expert opinion. Do you think this is a red pepper?” Julian’s attempt to redirect the conversation wasn’t subtle but it worked.

Marissa took a deep breath and crossed the floor, her lips still tight. “No. Maybe the pimento out of an olive, darling. Surely there’s no hope for decent antipasto here.”

Julian winced. “From a jar!” He shuddered dramatically. “I knew a fresh bell pepper was too much to hope for.”

Baird glanced to Aurelia when she didn’t move. “Do you want some pizza? It’s getting cold.”

Aurelia looked him up and down. “I know nothing of this pizza you offer.”

“Well, don’t judge all pizza by this particular example.” She looked puzzled, but Baird shrugged. “The real chef is coming in a couple of weeks. Until then, we take what we can get.”

Aurelia still didn’t move, and Baird again felt that urge to make her smile.

Well, she thought she was a princess and seemed determined to play the role. It was harmless enough. Why not play along?

Baird bowed slightly. “My lady?” He offered Aurelia his hand in a gallant gesture that seemed to suit her manner. “May I escort you to dinner?”

Aurelia stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, then carefully - as though she didn’t trust him not to bite - laid her delicate fingers across his own.

And Baird felt a disconcerting sense of recognition again. Aurelia’s gaze flicked to his, and an answering heat burned into his own. Aurelia certainly had a strong effect on him - was it just the puzzle of trying to remember that was responsible for his powerful attraction?

Right now, Baird didn’t care.

On impulse, he leaned over her hand and brushed his lips across its back. Aurelia shivered and her lips parted as she stared at him.

But she didn’t pull away.

Baird couldn’t think of anything other than the sweet press of those lips beneath his own. Everything else faded before his need to taste her again. He had to know whether it had just been surprise or something deeper that fired between them today.

Baird stepped closer and Aurelia didn’t step away or protest. Slowly, he lifted her small hand towards his chest, watched her sapphire gaze dance over his face...

“Come on, already!” Julian complained. “Don’t make me eat this travesty of a pizza cold, too!”

Aurelia’s head turned with a snap and she hauled her fingers out of Baird’s grip. She scooped up her skirts and joined the others so hastily that she seemed to be taking refuge in their midst.

The tantalizing moment was gone.

And, against all reason, Baird found himself hoping it would return soon.

* * *

Aurelia’s very flesh seemed heated after Bard’s touch and she had a hard time thinking with any kind of sense.

He was bending his charm upon her without delay - and she was falling prey to his seduction so readily! Aurelia could not seem to help her instinctive response to his touch - though now, she hated the fact that she had wanted him to kiss her again.

Bard was following his plan to the letter and Aurelia, even though she had guessed his intent, was powerless to stop her traitorous body from responding.

What had happened to her resolve?

But even as she wondered, Aurelia was reliving the fan of Bard’s breath against her lips, the resolute grip of his hand upon her own, the heat of desire that glowed in his eyes.

The way he held her hand was so gallant, so different from the course behavior she expected of him, that Aurelia did not know what to think. She swallowed her unwelcome response with difficulty and focused on the oddly small board.

To her astonishment, there was no mead.

“Will you have some Chianti?” Bard asked.

Aurelia was so shocked that he intended to pour the beverage himself that she did not immediately comprehend his question. Were there no servants for the king himself? He truly did have a barbaric court!

“Aurelia?” he prompted. “Chianti? There’s water, if you prefer.”

What kind of fool drank water? Especially after a battle had been waged? Who knew what foulness had trickled into the well?

Aurelia examined the red liquid in the glass flagon. “I do not know this Chianti,” she said carefully.

“It’s cheap,” Julian confided, his tone making his opinion more than clear. “I never drink the damn stuff - much prefer a good Chateauneuf de Pape, myself - but there isn’t a lot of choice around here.”

“Sebastien will take care of all of that, darling.” Marissa seemed to have recovered, both her accent and manner securely back in place now that she was beside the king once more.

“You know he’s coming?” Julian looked surprised, whoever this Sebastien might be.

Marissa chortled. “Oh, of course, darling! I helped to convince him!” Her expression hinted at powers of persuasion that Aurelia didn’t even want to imagine.

Whores and their tricks were of no interest to a well-bred woman.

Julian grimaced. “I should have figured you would have had something to do with stealing him away from New York.”

“Aurelia, would you like some wine, cheap as it is?” Bard’s voice was tinged with impatience and Aurelia could not blame him. His minions were far from respectful of his position.

Unfortunately, there was no one else to ask what was probably a silly question except Bard, for the other pair had begun to bicker about this Sebastien.

But perhaps that was best. It could do no harm to appear foolish to Bard, after her many slips on this day. Aurelia leaned closer and dropped her voice. “What is wine?”

Bard did not mock her. Nor, unfortunately, did he act as though she was slow of wit. “You do have things pretty simple up here, don’t you?” he mused, just taking the question in stride. “It’s made from grapes.”

“Grapes?” That did not tell Aurelia anything and Bard evidently guessed as much.

“They wouldn’t grow here, but I thought they might be shipped in.” His glance was questioning, but Aurelia shrugged her incomprehension. Furs and slaves were shipped, to her knowledge, and settlers brought livestock and tools. Certainly one would not make a beverage of any of those things.

Bard swished the red liquid in the glass flagon. “Grapes are a fruit that grows in warm places, warmer places than here.”

The juice of a fruit. There could be no harm in that. And it would certainly be safer than the water. Aurelia nodded. “I would like to sample some of this Chianti, if you please.”