Beauty's Curse (36 page)

The hair on the back of Rourke's neck prickled. “King William told me they sacrificed their firstborn males for a chance to blend their power together. But how could you see this?” He tried to fathom the courage it would take to stand before such magical power. He'd sworn his fealty to Scotland before the stone, when it had been swaddled in gold cloth, yet still it had terrified him.

He reached out for her hands, though he knew they shouldn't touch. True, he'd pushed her away, but his desire remained bright. She trustingly placed her fingertips in his outstretched palms.

“I had to see,” she said. “Merlin said I was to somehow ensure that the power of the lion stayed in Britain. I got the feeling he was implying, ‘beware of France.'”

Rourke felt the air leave his lungs in a whoosh of shock. “Sweet Jesu,” he said. King William had the Breath of Merlin, and it had been stolen from him while he'd secretly been bargaining with King Philippe—who, in turn, had been making deals with Prince John—who, so his information went, had agreed to marry Philippe's sister, Alice, and give over part of England in exchange for control of Normandy.

The British kings weren't keeping their part of the ancient deal.

“Why you?” Releasing her hands, he rubbed the aching pain between his eyes.

“What does that mean?” she huffed. “I am not good enough to see these visions?”

“I meant no offense.”

“I'm no great name? No seer? I've no magical bent?” She pushed away from him, hurt in every syllable.

“I meant that you have no—” He reached out and grabbed both her shoulders as if he were pulling her close for a hug. She strained against his hold until he whispered in her ear. “You have no ties to the throne.”

She stilled, then sank back to the cushions. “I am not of royal blood, and I have no stake in whatever game you play.” She crossed her arms, as if irritated. “Who are you? And don't tell me it's complicated.”

He ignored her question. “Time is short. I must tell you what I know before the others return.” Rourke inhaled before saying in a rush, “Whoever dares to look into the stone can see who would be king.”

“So?”

She was obviously not impressed. He had to make her understand. “The stone has been stolen from Scotland's treasury. King Richard has been steadily losing power. Think about who has been gaining it.” He kept his tone urgent and low, worried there might be listening ears, even though he'd had Jamie scan the room backward and forward.

Gali sniffed. “You think the stone is here,” she whispered. “If it is, then Prince John stole it.” Her voice rose. “Have him tell you where it is.”

“Hush,” Rourke said, pulling her to him so they were cheek to cheek. She was fierce in her loyalty to King Richard, and he admired that. He inhaled her unique scent. Lavender and lemon, a lady with spice.

She resisted his embrace, but relaxed when he didn't release her. If anyone walked in, they would see Rourke and Gali in love's hold.

He pitched his voice low. “He's not my prince. I'm a spy for King William.”

Galiana's gasp was the only sign she gave that she'd heard him.

Rourke continued urgently, “I need your help to find the Breath of Merlin.”

Galiana kept her cheek to his as she said, “A spy?” He waited for hysterics, but she chewed her lower lip and nodded. “I see now much that makes sense.” She paused, then suggested, “Mayhap the prince has already looked into the stone …”

“Nay,” Rourke said with certainty. “You see, whoever risks looking into the future risks permanent blindness. The man to see into the orb must be of royal blood and be a worthy contender for the throne. Prince John will take no chances until all of his plans are in place.”

She tried to pull back, but Rourke held her close—because he liked the way she felt in his arms, not because he was worried she would betray him. “What does that mean? Do you know his plans?”

“'Tis gossip and not proven, but I heard that John actually paid Leopold of Austria to kill Richard, straightaway. But Henry, as emperor, found out, and demanded Richard for ransom.”

“The prince is evil.”

“King William says the bloodline is tainted with Norman blood. The Plantagenets made a bargain with their own devil and stole away what belonged in Scotland. It is why they are all slightly mad.”

“I will help you,” Galiana said. He was about to compliment her intellect, when she sighed.

“Tell me about Lady Magdalene. Why did she faint when she heard you were married?”

Pushed off center, as he often was around Galiana, Rourke released Galiana's arms and leaned against the windowsill. Why was she thinking of that, and not the Breath of Merlin? Or the fact that he was a professed spy?

She sounded, he thought with a grin, like a jealous woman. “What?”

“You heard my question. Who is Lady Magdalene to you?” The outline of that pointy chin jumped as she stared out the window.

“The lady is but a friend.”

“Do all your women friends faint at your feet—or was it the shock of finding you had a wife? Is my …”

He tried not to smile as she fought to calm her emotions.

“Is your ring meant for her?”

“Ahhh.” Yes, that was jealousy in her voice. From what he'd learned of Galiana, she was not used to being out of control. He sought to ease her mood, though it was fun to tease her. “The ring was a prearranged signal from my king to proceed with our plan to come to Windsor.” It was easier to tell her this truth than another lie about Magdalene.

She didn't follow the misdirection. The woman was single-minded and stubborn.

“The ring was not a betrothal gift at all?” Galiana asked in an unreasoning tone.

Realizing he was treading on dangerous ground, he answered, “Not until I had to come up with a reason for having it—when your brother stole it from my pack and gave it to your priest.” He cleared his throat and looked longingly toward the door. Where was Jamie, damn it?

“Your men were whispering about the surprise wedding. Which was doubly surprising since you had made promises to another.” Galiana leaned in toward him. “Was that the lady Magdalene?”

She was like a court-appointed judge, the way she refused to lose sight of the question. Rourke shifted on the bench seat, wishing Jamie—hell, even the queen—would come in and save his arse.

He straightened his shoulders, wanting her respect. “In my line of work, my lady, a man can't always be as honest in one's relationships as you seem to think.”

“No honor!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “No chivalry. No matter how charming you are, it is all a lie for you.” Her disappointment was tangible between them.

“Your talk of chivalry galls me,” he rebutted. “What is chivalry but layers and layers of manners to cover up the ugliness of our society? You believe that lie quite willingly, overlooking the death and dirt of the everyday. You use your lotions and sweet-smelling perfumes to cover the stench of unwashed flesh.”

“I would never be party to lies!”

“Others do, and you create the means.”

“Ridiculous,” she sounded beyond offended now. Unfortunately, he knew what she would be like in the throws of delighted pleasure, the one place where she reveled in the give and take of power. Suddenly the air between them grew heavy, and he knew she was also remembering their shared desire.

His groin throbbed.

He'd wager his sword that her short pants of breath were no longer caused by her temper. He flicked his tongue over his lower lip, and the intake of air between her lips was the sound he needed.

She desired him as much as he wanted her. Duty be damned.

Reaching forward, he grasped her head and brought her mouth, with her slightly parted lips, to his.

She flung her arms around his neck, and he lay back, welcoming the weight of her on top of him. She sprinkled his face with sweet kisses, while her hands unerringly went to the hem of his untucked shirt. Lifting the fabric so that she could have access to his flesh, she followed the trail of her fingers with her lips. Sweet siren, he groaned, arching as her sharp teeth clamped over his nipple.

She licked the nub and moved to the other, repeating the action and using her fingers to trail down the line of body hair to his breeches.

“You promised me,” she said against his ear, “pleasure.”

He was beyond remembering he was going to set her aside at his king's command. He couldn't be as strong as Jamie. Nay, he'd tell the king to piss off, by God. He had to have her. His penis strained against his breeches, aching for the touch, the soft caress of her hands.

She teased, knowing instinctively what brought him to the edge of reason. He would pay this debt for enternity, and gladly.

The door of the chamber swung open, and Rourke, forgetting where he was, thought to protect his lady but ended up dumping her to the floor.

“Fer Christ's sake, Rourke! Lock the bleedin' door if ye're rutt—oh, my lady. So sorry,” Jamie exploded in a strangled voice.

Rourke pulled his shirt down and sat up on the bench, trying discreetly to find Galiana. His fingertips touched the top of her head, which was partly covered by a crooked circlet. He felt her shoulders shaking, and reached farther down. She had her face buried in her hands.

“Get out,” Rourke ordered his foster brother.

“I have news.”

“Give me a few minutes then. And don't let anyone else in,” Rourke added in a softer tone.

The door shut gently.

“Come, my lady,” Rourke urged, “sit up here. 'Tis my fault for getting carried away with you. You drive my passions, and I am not used to being without control.”

She didn't budge.

“You can't hide there, you know. Jamie will be inside again.”

“I'm humiliated,” she said in a muffled tone.

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” Rourke chuckled.

“Jamie thought you were having, uh, sex,” she squeaked, “and it didn't matter with who, did it? I've heard you're a lady's man, but this—I won't accept such behavior, Rourke. I won't. We are married now.”

He brushed his hand down the length of her hair. It felt so soft, and he imagined brown mink.

“Despite what you think, I would not dishonor you. I am no male prostitute plowing his way through the ranks of noblwomen everywhere.” He snatched his hand back from her hair.

“But you are,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You sleep with women for information instead of coin. A service, for a price. Is that not what a prostitute does?”

Rourke's gut clenched, and he felt as if he'd been physically slapped.

“You speak of loyalty to the throne. But at what personal cost? When you die and stand before God, will He forgive each wrong because you were doing your duty?”

This so echoed his personal doubts that he reacted from the gut. “You are no saint, my lady, to cast stones. Leave me.”

She didn't move, so Rourke pounded his fist against the wooden window frame.

“I told you to leave! Now. And don't come back until I say. When I want you, I will let you know.”

“You don't think you were overly harsh with the lady?” Jamie said, regaining his footing after almost being knocked over as Galiana ran from the room.

“She throws me off balance.” Rourke pursed his lips and cursed his aching head. The only time it didn't ache was when he was kissing Galiana.

Jamie shut the door, obviously deciding not to probe the tender subject. “I've a message from the king. It was for you, but I had to tell the messenger you were indisposed.”

“King William?”

Jamie laughed. “Who else? Richard is not in the habit of writing, my friend.”

“What does it say? I assume you read it, since I cannot.” Rourke found himself teetering on the edge of self-pity.

“You're not going to like it.”

Rourke felt a cool whirlwind begin at the base of his spine. “Tell me.”

“He's not pleased that you wed the lady. In his letter, he says if by some miracle ye haven't consummated the marriage, to set her aside immediately.”

Jamie waited for Rourke to announce a miracle, then spluttered obscenities when Rourke remained mum.

“You know I had to bind her to me.”

“Nay, ye wanted her. You put us in positions where it was necessary. Admit it.”

“What else did the letter say?” Rourke closed his eyes, wishing the sun's warmth were enough to take away the chill ebbing toward his soul.

“Ye'll have to set her aside, or kill her. The lady Constance is amenable to joining forces with ye.”

Rourke pushed against the pulse in his temple as bile lurched from his gut. “Nay,” he whispered.

“She'll set aside her idiot husband, and marry ye within the month.”

“Why the rush?”

“'Tis rumored that John will make his move against Richard soon, and the lady wants her son's position secured.”

“She should marry John then.”

“Aye, if John weren't promised to Alice, ye ken? It's easier being a bastard these days.”

“We've got to find that stone and return it to Scotland.” Rourke widened his eyes, furious that all he saw was gray and dull outlines. Enough to keep him from bumping into the walls, but hardly enough to smoothly plan an extraction from a fortified, enemy, castle.

“Did she give ye the ring?”

This time it was Rourke who buried his face in his hands. “I didn't even ask her for it.”

“Bollocks!”

“Send Will after her. Mayhap she'll give it to him,” Rourke said, knowing the life he'd dared to hope for had been nipped in the bud. He couldn't kill Galiana.

He'd have to set her aside after all, which would be the death of him.

His entire body pounded with an ache that could only be eased in Galiana's embrace.