Claire Delacroix (9 page)

Aurelia paused on the lip of the cliff and scanned the rocks below. This was the spot. Aurelia could fairly taste the despair.

It was a desolate and lonely place, isolated on the northernmost crag of Dunhelm. In broad sunlight, it gave a person gooseflesh, no doubt because the torment of countless prisoners had left its mark.

From the crest of the cliff, the slope of rock looked as though it continued unbroken to the edge of the cliff, where it dropped straight down to the sea far below.

But Aurelia knew better. Halfway down the ragged descent to the cliff edge, there was a black and jagged opening in the rock. That hole was the only entry to the dreaded sea cells. Aurelia glanced back and thought she discerned figures erupting from the castle.

She did not have much time. She scrambled down the steep rock face, scratching her bare feet in the process but continuing undaunted. She tasted the salt of the sea spray and her mouth went dry at the proximity of the crashing waves.

The wet rocks gleamed like jet and were slick with moss - one false step and she could slide to the edge of the cliff, then straight down into the sea. There would be no easy landing on the rough rocks below. Aurelia concentrated on finding a secure footing on each rock, telling herself to ignore the hypnotic pounding of the sea.

The opening to the sea cells was closer to the cliff edge than she recalled. Aurelia gripped the rocks and leaned over the hole, closing her eyes at the dizzy drop to the cell’s wet floor.

There was no escape from these dismal cells. It was here that the worst criminals had always been abandoned to die. Aurelia was certain that the repetitive crash of the sea would drive them to madness first. Or the crush of bones beneath one’s feet, a tangible reminder of the fate of previous occupants, and a fate ultimately to be their own.

Aurelia could see no movement in the fathomless shadows below. She peered into the darkness and shivered when she thought she saw the glimmer of a pale bone.

“Father?” she called, but there was no response.

Her voice echoed slightly in the cavern below and made a lonely sound. She raised her voice and called again.

The sea rushed and withdrew, the wind whistled over the rocks. Gulls cried far overhead, but Aurelia strained to see some sign of life below.

“Father! Father, answer me! Father, are you here?”

“There is no one here, Gemdelovely Gemdelee, no one but you and now there’s me.”

Aurelia jumped at the gently spoken words. She spun to find an ancient crone behind her.

The woman leaned heavily on a cane to survey Aurelia with twinkling eyes. Her face was wreathed in wrinkles, her hands gnarled, but she exuded a good-humored charm and a strength unexpected.

Her bright pink dress flapped around her knees and danced with large blossoms. Her silver gray hair was pulled back and pinned, but seemed to have a wavy defiance. Quite a lot of it blew freely around her face.

She must have been a beauty when she was young.

There was something familiar about the woman, but Aurelia knew they had never met before. She would have remembered those eyes, she was certain of it. All the same, she found herself returning the woman’s smile and felt oddly comforted by her presence.

“Who are you?” Aurelia asked. “I did not hear you come near.”

The woman’s smile broadened. “Oh, I know well enough who I am and who you might be, Gemdelovely Gemdelee. The question is only - what do you seek, pretty you, pretty me?” The woman’s voice was delightfully musical in cadence.

“My father. King Hekod the Fifth.”

“Ah!” The woman’s eyes lit up, as though she laughed at a secret joke, then she turned to walk away. Her cane tapped on the wet rocks, but she climbed the slope with the assurance of one who knew her way well.

Aurelia guessed from that expression that the woman knew something she was not prepared to tell. She rose to her feet and anxiously gave chase. “Do you know where he is? Have you seen him?”

The woman slanted a glance Aurelia’s way. “I have seen many come and many go, Gemdelovely Gemdelee. Some call themselves kings, some merely believe themselves to be.”

Hope rose within Aurelia. Could this woman have aided her sire? “But have you seen my father? Was he imprisoned here? Did you help him escape?”

The woman climbed, apparently untroubled by either Aurelia’s questions or her concern. “No one can escape their fate, Gemdelovely Gemdelee. Any task left unfinished must be done, any debt settled and balance paid.” She turned a fired a piercing glance to Aurelia. “There was a time when you understood such things.”

Aurelia had a sudden recollection of her dame giving her just such a look when she had forgotten a vital lesson. She gaped at the old woman, and realized belatedly that the woman’s eyes were the same silver gray as her dame’s had been.

And they twinkled with the same vigor.

As Aurelia fought to make sense of this, the woman smiled and turned back to her climbing. “You are not afraid of me, Gemdelovely Gemdelee. Can you tell me why that might be?”

Aurelia exhaled slowly. “You remind me of someone.” A lump rose in Aurelia’s throat. “Someone I loved very much.”

“Do I that and can that be, Gemdelovely Gemdelee?” The woman seemed to find this amusing, though Aurelia could not guess why.

Aurelia climbed behind the woman, hoping neither of them would stumble and fall. “I think you may have me confused with another. My name is not Gemdelovely Gemdelee.”

The woman gained a rise near the summit and turned, her brief flash of a smile almost mischievous. “And I think I know what it is that I do see, Gemdelovely Gemdelee.” Her lips twitched as though she would laugh out loud were she alone, and Aurelia was again reminded of a trait of her mother’s.

Aurelia’s dame had often stifled her laughter in Hekod’s presence precisely thus, especially when it was something Hekod had done that she found amusing. The remembered bellow of her sire when he thought himself mocked echoed through Aurelia’s ears, followed by her mother’s lilting laughter.

They typically had retired to their chambers after such exchanges. Much laughter had carried from those rooms throughout the night, as well as various mysterious thumps and bumps.

Of course, all that had changed when Gemma died.

Tears blurred Aurelia’s vision and she suddenly felt very much alone. She folded her arms around herself, unable to deny the chilly fingers of the wind any longer.

“Do not cry, Gemdelovely Gemdelee,” the old crone advised with a gentle tap on Aurelia’s arm. “What you seek is closer than you might see.”

She knew something, that much Aurelia could read in the eyes so disconcertingly like her dame’s. “Will you not tell me whether you have seen my father? Was he brought to the caves? Did he escape the new king’s vengeful hand?”

The woman shook her head slowly, then turned away to finish her ascent. “Do you not already know the answer, Gemdelovely Gemdelee? It lies before you, as clearly as can be.”

Ha! Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat. The woman had helped Hekod escape! It was only natural that she was circumspect, for the new king would not be amused by this development.

“Then, he has not died!” Aurelia whispered with delight. “He escaped! Do you know where I might find him?”

The woman reached the summit and turned to watch Aurelia scramble impatiently in her wake. The wind lifted a strand of her silver hair free and the lock waved over her head like an unruly ribbon. She took the pose of a warrior, her ancient hands braced on the cane like a man’s on the hilt of a blade, her shoulders square and her stare unflinching.

She arched a silver brow. “Oh, you will find him, Gemdelovely Gemdelee, of that I am certain as can be. Though you will find nothing as you believe it should be - ‘tis always thus for the seeker and for thee.”

“Then, where shall I find him?”

The crone smiled. She looked toward Bard’s castle and lifted her cane to point in that direction. “The seeker comes for you, Gemdelovely Gemdelee. Mind he sees what you want him to see.”

Aurelia pivoted just as Bard’s outraged cry rang out across Dunhelm.

“Princess! What in the hell are you doing out here?”

Aurelia glanced back but the crone was already a goodly distance away, the sound of her tapping cane swallowed by the bellow of the sea. The woman’s words echoed in her mind.

Bard must not realize that her father had escaped!

Well, Aurelia was no witless fool who would betray her own sire’s plans to regain his holding! She had to intercept Bard before he drew near the sea cells and guessed where she had been.

Aurelia recalled suddenly how Bard had turned in revulsion when she had kissed him in the well. And he had beaten a retreat out of that place, without looking back.

Aurelia squared her shoulders and strode towards the self-proclaimed king, knowing exactly what she had to do.

* * *

“Are you out of your mind?” Baird stalked across the wet green turf, stunned to find Aurelia on the edge of the cliff. She wore no more than his sweater and was obviously soaked to the skin, but her expression was mild as she walked toward him.

They might have been meeting for tea on the lawn, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, not braving the elements on the edge of a damn cliff! Baird was more angry than he could ever remember being, though he was sure that was because Julian’s dreaded liability had been narrowly averted.

Of course, he had never felt so relieved at avoiding liability before.

“Are you nuts or what?” Baird planted his feet against the mud when they were only a few steps apart. “No, don’t answer that.” He flung out his hands, more than ready to vent his frustration. But Aurelia walked toward him silently, the mud sliding between her bare toes. Baird caught his breath at the sight.

“You could catch your death of cold out here in that sweater!” he raged. “Why couldn’t you just stay warm and dry in your room?”

His arguments fell silent when Aurelia came to a halt directly before him. The rain beat down on him with newfound intensity, the sea churned and he thought he could see the ruddy pink of her nipples through the lattice stitches of his sodden sweater.

Her eyes were so very blue that a man could drown in their depths. As Baird stared at her, his heart clenched.

Aurelia reached up and cupped his face in the delicacy of her hands. Her fingers were light against his jaw, her room key pressed wetly against one cheek, and Baird was powerless to step away from her. One pale toe landed on Baird’s boot, and he tried to swallow the lump that rose in his throat.

If she kissed him again, Baird wouldn’t be able to stop so easily this time.

“Did you desire me after all, King Bard?” she whispered, then stretched against him without waiting for his response.

Baird closed his eyes as her breasts pressed against his chest for the second time in short order. An achingly long moment later, the soft sweetness of her lips landed on his.

And desire took the reins, kicking anger out in the cold.

She tasted so good. Baird tried to resist her siren’s call and failed so quickly that he knew resistance was futile. He made a sound in the back of his throat that was halfway between a groan and a growl, then slanted his lips possessively over Aurelia’s. She arched against him, as though helpless against an answering tide of passion, and Baird hauled her even closer.

Vaguely, he heard her room key clatter to the ground.

The sea spray mingled with the sweetness of her own taste, the combination intoxicating. Baird wanted more, he wanted all she could give. He wanted to meld their bodies together, right here and now.

It felt so right and for once, Baird Beauforte didn’t question his instincts. He cupped Aurelia’s tight buttocks in his hands and lifted her closer as he slid his tongue between her teeth.

Aurelia sighed and arched her back bewitchingly, the sound of her pleasure firing Baird’s need as nothing else could have done. Her tongue danced boldly with his, and her fingers latched into his hair to pull him closer. They kissed hungrily, greedily, as though they had both awakened from a long slumber to find the world brighter and better than imagined. The fever between them was all-consuming, as though they had found a treasure long lost.

The cold rain sluiced over them and Baird’s hand slid beneath Aurelia’s sweater. His fingers cupped the ripe perfection of her breast and he marveled at the softness of her skin.

Her nipple instantly became a hard bead beneath his caressing thumb. Baird ducked his head and nudged the neck of the sweater aside, running a row of kisses across her flesh and capturing the nipple between his teeth.

Aurelia moaned. She slid her foot up his leg and Baird’s blood fired. He suckled her until the nipple was taut, then Aurelia rolled her hips against his raging erection in a silent demand. Baird captured her lips beneath his own once more, sampling her deeply and leisurely, trying to tell her with his kiss what he could not explain in words.

This was not lust. This was something more, some connection on a deeper level, some recognition of a passion that had been between them before. A legendary passion, a desire for which he sensed he had paid a heavy price not once, but many times.

A passion that Baird could not remember.

When Baird lifted his head, Aurelia’s azure eyes were drowsy with desire and her lips were softened. Baird cupped her head in his heads as he caught his breath, knowing he had come within a hair of making love to this stranger in the rain.

He was still thinking about it.

But she couldn’t really be a stranger. It would be crazy to feel such a strong attraction to someone he had never met. They must have been together before, even though Baird couldn’t remember it.

But he never forgot anything or anyone. Baird’s photographic memory was legendary.

It made no sense. How could Aurelia turn him inside out, remind him that they had been together, yet slip out of his memory as elusively as a ghost? Baird stared down into Aurelia’s fathomless eyes as though he would will the truth out of her.

“Who are you?” His voice was unexpectedly hoarse, even to his own ears. “Who are you really?”