Never to Part (23 page)

At that moment the door to her chamber opened and Saddie stuck out her head. When her companion saw her, Daphne put a hand to her lips and hurried to their room.

“Just go back to bed, Saddie,” she whispered and took a seat before the fire. She settled in to wait until it would safe to try again.

Raucous laughter in the corridor outside her chamber warned Daphne that at least some of the men staying at the inn had left the public room and were retiring. She fought sleep and waited until only the howling wind and the crackle of the fire disturbed the silence. Then she slipped from her chamber once more and crept down the stairs.

Seeing no one in the public room Daphne hurried to the back and took a seat on a bench along the wall well out of the halo of lamp light. She swept her gaze from one end of the room to the other. But though she searched with care there was no sign of an oversized pottery jug emblazoned with the Dremore seal.

Finding nothing after a careful recheck, Daphne slumped back in the chair. With a promise to remain awake, she leaned her head back against the wall and tried to think what to do. Sleep had almost overtaken her when her attention was claimed by a flicker of light where the shadows blanketed the wall. Daphne peered more closely. She saw a glint of reflected light. Now fully awake, she narrowed her eyes and concentrated. To her amazement a shimmer of light hovered in that area. Auras. The same ones she had seen in the cemetery they night she and Richard entered the mausoleum.

Daphne leaped to her feet. When she approached the area she saw an alcove high up in the wall. It was just large enough for the huge jug with a golden rectangle hung about its neck. The jug’s shape was that of a smuggler’s ell just as the baroness had told her. The dark rectangle hanging from its neck had to be the gold plate with the Dremore seal. At the tread of heavy steps, Daphne hugged the wall.

The innkeeper entered with candle in hand and snuffed out the last lamp.

“She spotted it,” Lord Ricman whispered to his wife. “That shimmer of light were brilliant. Whenever I try it, it frightens whomever sees it.”

“Thou never doest things by halves, my dear,” Lady Laurel told him. “And dare not quote ‘Tis a candle to be hidden under a bushel?’ if thou wishest the jug to survive another century.

“Where be Richard?”

“He went to his chamber after eating in the kitchen. Took good care of his horses afore that—you can tell how good a man be by how he treats his horses.” His smile faded.

“I sense that he abides here too.”

Lady Laurel wondered at his tone. Then she thought of the one person who could ruin their plans.

“I wondered why Eldridge left Heart Haven before the verse was found.”

“I’d lay odds he knew she had it and did so to set Miss Stratton out on a public coach for the Hound. I wish we had found her afore she bolted. What could give her reason enough to do so?” Lord Ricman wondered aloud.

“Something very unpleasant if I judge the man aright. We must nudge Daphne to find the verse at once.”

“Thou set about that my sweet.” Lord Ricman kissed his wife then gently chucked her chin. “I’ll hasten Richard along. Then I’ll see if Eldridge is to be found.”

Lord Ricman appeared in the corridor outside Richard’s chamber as he slumped onto the floor. Behind him Eldridge shoved the pistol he’d applied to Dremore’s head into his jacket and shut the door.

“Just ye wait, ye arse pimple,” swore Lord Ricman.

Blanchard halted three steps from the maid’s chamber; went back to it, and tossed something inside.

“Richard, something tells me I’d better find a way to rouse thee,” Lord Ricman muttered. “I’m that glad thou hast a runner prying into thy cousin’s affairs. Ye’ll find what he discovers enlightening. Just hope he ain’t too late.”

Daphne stayed still for a long time after the innkeeper left. She contemplated how best to reach the jug. Then a new unpleasant thought intruded.

How could a verse or instructions to the treasure be inside the jug unless it had been emptied
? she wondered. That possibility seemed highly unlikely.
‘Haps the treasure is in it. Her excitement doubled at this possibility. I must get the jug down.

After a seemingly interminable time passed, Daphne thought it safe to move. She fingered her way along the tables and chairs to the public room’s entrance. Untying the rope holding back the curtain she drew the fabric noiselessly across the doorway as further insurance against interruption.

Now fairly certain everyone was asleep, Daphne walked in the general direction of the post on which hung one of the lamps. She lit the lamp and adjusted the flame as low as possible. Raising it high she studied the alcove in which the jug rested.

How am I ever going to reach it
?

Daphne surveyed the public room and then set the lamp on the floor. She quietly moved a table so it was against the wall beneath the alcove. Next she set a chair atop the table. With the aid of a chair Daphne stepped up onto the table. Concentrating on taking care she climbed until she was on the chair atop the table.

 * * * *

Richard’s head throbbed. He couldn’t recall why it should. He moaned.
Just go back to sleep. I’m stiff and sore from the day in the phaeton
, he thought believing it but another dream.

Then a wave of water cascaded over Richard’s head. Cold rivulets ran down his face and the back of his neck. “By the Gods, it rains still,” he cursed as he struggled to consciousness. He tried to raise a hand to wipe the moisture from his face but found it held fast beneath his body.

With clenched teeth, Richard forced open his eyes. He found himself was in utter darkness. Wriggling increased the throbbing in his head but he managed to free his arm. He cautiously explored the area around him.

“The bloody cot,” he grunted. “The maid’s chamber. Where in the blazes did the water come from?” No answer forthcoming, Richard carefully turned over. He gently probed the sore lump on the side of his head and searched his memory. He recalled getting a glass of brandy. Had he drunk it all? It certainly was not enough to befuddle his senses.

Then Richard recalled the dream in which Lord Ricman and Lady Laurel had talked about the jug.

“What in the bloody hell is going on,” Richard swore. The lump was proof that while he slept someone had struck him.

Who is the only person here with motivation to do so
? Reason prompted.

Daphne
?

“She wouldn’t.” Richard swung his feet off the cot and froze as nauseating pain washed across him. After he recovered Richard took care to move very slowly as he sat up and put his feet to the floor. He cautiously reached out trying to find his candle but touched a piece of material instead. Without thinking, he pocketing it and struggled to his feet.

When Richard first stood up his legs and arms stung like nettles pierced them. While he rubbed his arms an eerie noise caught his attention.

Certain it came from the corridor outside his tiny chamber Richard slowly shuffled to the door, each step easier, freer. He slowly pulled the door open. A ball of faint light flickered at the mouth of the stairwell and then floated downwards.

My head is hurt worse than I feared
, thought Richard, but he complied with the urge to follow the light. At the point where the wall opened out on the floor below, the ball disappeared but he saw a dim light beneath the curtain of the public room. He approached it stealthily and slipped inside.

A stifled exclamation reached Richard’s ears. He heard a chair wobble. Then Richard saw Daphne waver atop a chair perched on a table. He bounded forward, leaped from the chair to the table top, and grabbed Daphne by the waist. “You little idiot,” he stormed in a fierce whisper as he forcefully lifted her off the chair and onto the table before him.

“Release me,” Daphne demanded angrily.

The rush of fear at the thought of how close she had come to falling ignited a fuse. Richard tightened his hold.

Daphne struggled; tried to push his hands away. Finding his grip relentless, she lashed out in disappointment, fear, and anger and slapped his face.

“You little termagant,” Richard swore. “Never again, my love.” He seized her shoulders and bent his head to hers.

Hot urgent need further tightened Richard’s already painfully taut groin when Daphne softly sighed and opened her mouth. Fire flared, rose higher. The tentative thrust of her hips against his hardness nearly undid him. Richard forced his kiss to gentle then slowly drew back.

The glow of desire in Daphne’s eyes when she slowly opened them threatened to overpower his effort to be prudent for both their sakes. The glide of his thumb along the velvet skin of her jaw increased the deep longing racing through his veins.

Lord Ricman put an arm about Lady Laurel’s waist. Before them Daphne and Richard stood perfectly still staring at each other.

“Finally,” Lady Laurel whispered. “’Tis not that marvellous?” she nudged her husband. “See how her hands steal about his neck. “Mmmm, Richard ‘tis quite accomplished at kissing. I wouldn’t have thought it.”

“Inspiration ‘tis the key, my love,” Lord Ricman said giving her a brief squeeze before he reluctantly released her. “But we must not forget Eldridge.”

“Just where does the viper lay?” Lady Laurel asked. She turned in a slow circle and halted facing a small door on the wall opposite the curtained doorway. Blanchard stood in the deep shadows, Seeing his impatient scowl, she turned back to the couple on the table and smiled. They were in the midst of a passionate kiss, completely unaware of everything.

“What doest thou think he means to do?” she whispered.

“I doubt that he’ll bed her on the table. Ouch,” he grunted.

“I shall do more than pinch you next time. Truly, Ricman.”

“’Twas thy whisper—why doest thou whisper? No one can hear us,” he teased.

“Get over there by Eldridge,” Lady Laurel commanded.

“Aye, ma’am. Didst thou know he has a pistol? I wager he intends to use it. See if you can distract our lovers.”

“If only they were lovers,” sighed Lady Laurel.

Daphne gently caressed his cheek. Richard began to lower his head, intent upon her lips.

A sudden chilling breeze halted Richard. He looked quickly to the door curtain but it hung with nary a flutter.

Daphne shivered in his arms. “What was that?”

Richard gently moved his hands up and down her arms. “I should not have acted so.” The embarrassment that flared in Daphne’s eyes threatened to undo his good intentions. Scrabbling for anything besides how right she felt in his arms, he blurted, “You found the verse at the ruins?”

Daphne stilled. “Speak more quietly or you shall rouse someone,” she whispered.

Even in the dim light Richard could see that a flush tinged her cheeks.

“How did you learn about The Hound?” she asked.

“I too found a verse,” he replied in equally hushed tones.

“You needn’t lie—”

Richard caught her upraised hand. “I have no reason to prevaricate.” He glanced up to the alcove above. A phrase from his dream popped to mind. “Throne. It’s as if it sits on a throne. Beneath the jug. That’s where it is.”

When he looked down at her a powerful need gripped him to smooth the wrinkles a dismayed frown formed on Daphne’s forehead. The desire to kiss her until she forgot the treasure almost defeated him. But Richard knew one of them had to keep their head to avoid discovery and an embarrassing situation at the least. He kept hold of her hand but put as much space as the table top permitted between them.

“The alcove is too high even for you,” Daphne said.

The quaver in her voice, the wild capering of her heart before he released her told Richard she was as affected by what was between them as he.

“If we work together,” Daphne choked out, “we’ll get it.”

Richard cocked a brow. “To what end? To have you go haring off and risk your life again?”

“Let us get the verse first.”

Richard watched several emotions play across Daphne’s features. Her desperate fear puzzled him.
I’ll discover why later
, he thought. “All right,” Richard begrudgingly assented.

“You should—” she began eagerly.

Richard glared at Daphne. She dropped her gaze to their feet. He studied her downcast face and relented. “Should what?” he asked softly.

“Take a stance as if you were going to help me mount,” Daphne said. “I’ll step into your linked hands and you can raise me up so that I can feel around the jug.”

“The verse is beneath the jug.”

Daphne shook her head. “I will check there first then.”

Anticipation stirred in Richard. “Good.” Without another word he linked his hands, bent over slightly, and waited for Daphne to step up.

She reached out tentatively and then after a deep breath, placed a hand on his shoulder and did so.

“Put your hands on the wall,” Richard whispered as he lifted her. “That will steady you. Good, that’s it.” He slowly straightened and lifted her up as high as he could. “Can you reach it?”

“Yes but I’ve found nothing yet,” Daphne whispered back. “Wait. Yes,” she said, excitement filling her voice. “I’ve found a groove. Let me see what I can find.” A moment later she tensed. “I can feel a ring of some sort,” Daphne whispered. “Hold me steady.”

Daphne jerked in his hold. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“It took three tugs but the ring finally gave way,” she replied in hushed tones. “There is something beneath the jug. A depression of some sort.”

Richard heard the rustle of parchment.

“I have something. Set me down.”

Richard lowered and released Daphne. He snapped the piece of parchment from her hand. Jamming it into his coat, Richard jumped down from the table, and then turned with upraised hands to help Daphne down.