Secret Heart (4 page)

He’d like
to see her clad in silk and jewels. He’d like even better to see
her lying naked on a linen sheet with her red-brown hair spread
loosely around her. The intensity of that sudden, deeply sensual
image sent heat surging to his loins. At the same time, an almost
unbearable longing pervaded his innermost being, a yearning that
was something other, and far stronger, than mere physical desire.
Oddly, he felt no shame, though he was surprised by how difficult
he found it to continue describing his plan to Garit.

“
At the
very least, Lady Chantal’s reappearance would startle a few
people,” he said.

“
D’you
mean, startle them into confessing the truth of what they’ve done
to her?” Garit asked. “Aye, that just might work,” he agreed, his
gaze fixed on Jenia, too.

“
Be
certain of your answer to my next question,” Roarke responded
softly. “My plan may end your dearest hopes. Do you really want to
know the truth, no matter what it is?”

“
Yes,”
Garit said, his voice low, but his tone leaving no doubt about his
determination on the subject. “I cannot go on with my life until I
learn what has happened to Chantal. After so many months with no
word of her, I am prepared to learn the worst. Never imagine that I
will shrink from the truth, no matter how dreadful it may prove to
be.

“
But
Roarke,” he continued, “I trust you do realize that if Jenia is not
my dear love, then we will have a second puzzle to solve. For she
is almost certainly a noblewoman. If she’s not Chantal, then who is
she? And if the Great God Sebazious made two such incomparable
ladies, why haven’t we heard of Lady Jenia before this
day?”

Jenia woke to the sound of a low-voiced
discussion. Having recently trained herself not to reveal her
awareness of others nearby, she kept her eyelids closed and,
despite her increasingly uncomfortable position against the tree
trunk, she did not move.

“
I find
it odd,” Roarke said, “that a ship could sink leaving only one body
and no wreckage on a nearby beach – and the ship must have been
near to the beach for a woman to survive in the water long enough
to reach land through thunder and lightning and rain. The tide was
running high last night, with the waves pounding along the shore.
Anything floating out there would certainly be tossed up onto the
sand. Not necessarily alive, either.”

“
What are
you suggesting?” Garit asked.

“
I’m not
certain.” Roarke expelled a long breath that sounded to the
listening Jenia as if it originated in deep frustration.

“
Roarke?”
Garit prodded when his companion remained silent for too
long.

“
What can
I say when I cannot locate a single clue that might provide answers
to the many questions I have?” Roarke asked. “My first question
being, why did Jenia arrive at just this spot, at a time when we
are staying nearby? Did she jump from the ship? Or was she thrown
overboard? Was there actually a ship, or is her story a ruse?” He
stopped short of voicing his concern that Jenia could be a spy,
because he had no proof.

“
I count
four or five questions there, not just one,” Garit said. “Let me
offer a clue for us to ponder. I am sure you’ve noticed that Jenia
wears no jewelry, though her ears are pierced.”

“
One
earlobe is slightly torn, and there’s a scratch mark on her neck,”
Roarke said.

“
Both of
which suggest that her jewelry was taken from her by force,” Garit
added. “That does fit.”

“
Fit
what?” Roarke scoffed. “We cannot know anything for certain until
she remembers who she is and what happened to her. If she ever does
remember. If she is not lying to us about not
remembering.”

“
Even
so,” Garit insisted, “distrustful of Jenia though you are, still,
from what you’ve said, I think you intend to make use of her
remarkable similarity to Chantal as a means of uncovering the truth
about my missing love. I know you well enough to guess most of what
you plan to do and I must tell you that I disagree.”

“
My plan
will work,” Roarke declared. “If Jenia continues to claim loss of
memory, then she won’t be expected to provide a coherent story to
explain Chantal’s disappearance. Her very ignorance, along with her
apparent confusion, will convince everyone she meets that she must
be Chantal.”

“
You know
as well as I do that if she makes such a claim some folk will
declare she’s bewitched,” Garit warned. “Fighting men may believe
it’s possible for a person to forget who he is, because fighting
men occasionally see injuries that can lead to such a memory loss.
Most folk won’t believe it, because they’ve never witnessed it.
They will look to the mages for an explanation and the wrong mage
could cause serious trouble for all of us.”

“
Let
people think what they want. If we are successful, Jenia won’t have
to impersonate Chantal long enough to put herself in
danger.”

“
Have you
considered what could happen to her?” Garit argued. “Aside from the
mages, I mean. Suppose your scheme lures whoever stole Chantal away
the first time to steal her again? What if we can’t prevent the
second abduction and Jenia is hurt, or worse?”

“
We don’t
know for certain that Lady Chantal was abducted. Whatever happened
to her, Jenia offers our best chance of finding her. I say, we use
her. Since I am acting under King Henryk’s direct orders and you
are only a volunteer, and an overly emotional volunteer at that, we
will follow my plan.”

“
Roarke,
sometimes I fear you have no heart,” Garit said,
sighing.

“
Well?”
Roarke’s voice was crisp with impatience. “Are we
agreed?”

“
I
suppose so.” Garit sighed again. “On one condition.”

“
Which
is?” Roarke asked in the same crisp tone.

“
That we
explain to Jenia what we are doing, and why.”

“
Garit,
sometimes
I
fear
that
you
have no
brain,” Roarke informed him.

“
She has
a right to know what she is becoming involved with,” Garit
insisted, “and a right to refuse to aid us if she’s afraid. For all
we know, she may have good reason to be fearful, good reason not to
reveal her true identity.”

“
You are
hoping that when she recovers her memory – or finally admits to the
truth – she will prove to be Lady Chantal,” his friend
accused.

“
While
you are hoping she really is Jenia,” Garit said.

An extended silence followed that remark,
during which Jenia was hard put to sit still and keep her eyes
closed. Her shoulders ached from holding the same position for so
long and she began to worry that her legs would not support her
when she finally unfolded them.

She heard
the men moving about and caught snatches of a few more whispered
sentences. Gently, cautiously, not wanting to alert them, she
probed first Roarke’s thoughts and then Garit’s. Her Power was
minor at the best of times, so the effort required all of her
strength. She hadn’t realized just how depleted she was after
months of inadequate food, followed by two days of nothing at all
to eat or drink. As a result, she didn’t learn much, but what she
did learn was reassuring. Neither man carried any trace of the
mighty Power of the mages. They gave no indication of alarm, nor
any sign that they were aware of what she was doing.

Feeling
herself weakening much too quickly, Jenia withdrew into herself
again. She dared a breath of relief, concealing it with a movement
as if she were settling more comfortably against the tree while she
still slept. Despite her weakness she was more confident now,
knowing her companions possessed no Power. Unfortunately, she
hadn’t been able to probe deeply enough to discover what their
intentions were beyond finding Chantal, though she did think both
men were basically honest. She would simply have to uncover their
motives and their ultimate plans by the usual method of employing
her eyes and ears, and her instincts.

Needing to replenish her strength, she
banished all thought of Roarke and Garit from her mind and entered
a state of calm peacefulness. Time passed without reckoning until,
eventually, a gentle hand touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes
slowly, feigning emergence from sleep, to find Garit smiling at her
with the same tenderness she had seen in him earlier.

“
My
lady,” he said, “if you will rise now and come with us, we’ll take
you to the inn where we are staying. While you bathe and eat, we’ll
find clothing for you.”

She said nothing, but just looked at him,
waiting for the proposal she knew he must soon make. As she ought
to have expected after overhearing the discussion between the two
men, it was Roarke and not Garit who offered the proposition.

“
We need
your help,” Roarke said. He didn’t sound as if he was asking. In
fact, the statement was more like a command.

“
What
help?” she asked, adding with false innocence, “You’ve been kind to
me, so I will do whatever I can to repay that kindness. Only tell
me what you need.”

“
We offer
our protection,” Garit said. “A lady cannot wander about the
countryside dressed as you are, and all alone. We propose to escort
you to Calean City.”

Her heart leapt at the mention of the capital
of Sapaudia. Calean City was exactly where she wanted to go, but
she knew better than to confess as much to men who were still
strangers to her.

“
How will
my going to Calean help you?” she asked.

“
It’s a
long story,” Roarke said. “Come with us now, and after you are
feeling more like yourself, we’ll explain what we want of
you.”

“
How can
I feel like myself, when I don’t know who I am?” she asked,
fighting a sudden urge to laugh out loud. She thought she must be
going mad. “I don’t know where I am, either,” she added.

“
This is
the southernmost part of Sapaudia, though we are near to the border
with the Dominion,” Garit responded, his words confirming Jenia’s
earlier conclusion about where she had come ashore. “That is the
Sea of Alboran,” Garit added, waving an arm toward the water.
“Calean City lies north and west of here, on the Holotan
River.”

“
You
cannot remain by the sea, alone and unclothed,” Roarke
said.

“
That is
undeniably true.” She had presence of mind enough to avoid even a
hasty glance in the direction of the Nalo Mountains. “Very well. I
will go with you, and I will listen to your long story. But I warn
you, Sir Roarke, I will not do anything immoral. My gratitude does
not extend that far.”

“
We would
never expect you to behave improperly,” Garit exclaimed.

She had
already decided that she would agree to their scheme. While
secretly listening to their talk she had realized that she could
achieve her goal without needing to do it all herself. She could
take advantage of her forlorn situation and while they – or, more
precisely, while Roarke was using her, she would use the two of
them. It never occurred to Jenia to explain herself, or her
reasoning, to either man. Having too often been deceived, she had
learned not to trust anyone. But she did look forward with great
interest to the story that Roarke had promised to tell
her.

Roarke
insisted on taking her up with him on his horse, though Garit was
plainly the man who adored Chantal. Jenia realized that to Roarke,
Chantal’s disappearance was merely a puzzle that needed to be
solved.

In a way,
she was relieved that he was the leader of their little company,
and not Garit. She wasn’t sure she could cope with Garit’s
chivalrous treatment or his heartfelt longing for his lost love.
Dealing with the cool and unemotional Roarke would be easier
because, Jenia told herself, she felt absolutely nothing for him
except a vague sense of gratitude that he hadn’t killed her within
moments of meeting her. That single fact added to the little she
had learned while probing his thoughts suggested that either he had
not been sent to commit murder, or else he was a very clever and
duplicitous man.

She was
sick of the schemes of men with minds like dark and winding
labyrinths. Though she was pursuing just such a scheme herself,
still she longed for plain speaking and honesty. Yet, despite her
fears and the need for caution, something in Roarke’s shadowed gaze
and in the firm set of his mouth intrigued her.

He was
most amazingly strong. Once mounted on his horse, a large animal
whose dark coat almost matched Roarke’s sleek hair, he reached down
a hand to take hers.

“
Put your
foot on mine,” he ordered, and when she placed her bare toes on the
soft leather of his boot, he lifted her up and swung her around so
she landed securely in front of him. She wrapped her arms around
his waist, wound her fingers into his wide belt, and hung on
tight.

The inn where they were staying lay only a
short distance from the shore. It was built close to a rutted dirt
road that ran east and west. Jenia knew the direction because the
sun was at her back as it moved lower in the sky. She was relieved
to have a somewhat better idea of where she was and of the time of
day. She had not liked her earlier sense of being adrift in an
unknown place and time.