Beauty's Curse (45 page)

Her hair, a red that glimmered with burnished gold, fell to below her hips. And her eyes were as green as the forest around him. There was no need for words as he told her how beautiful she was. She smiled shyly and urged him to hurry on.

They were to be the witnesses.

The British Isles had sacrificed much for power, and the current kings had forgotten their allegiance to the land. First and foremost, to the land.

Rourke felt a kinship with the lions they passed on the way. He wasn't afraid as they gathered around him and Galiana. Walking among them was right, and he wondered what it meant.

They stopped before a large bonfire, and the flames parted. Merlin, a wizard who was already old at the beginning of the British Isles, said, “You could be one of them.”

Galiana's sharp intake of air was the only clue she'd understood.

Rourke gripped her hand, thinking if he let go, he'd be lost in the orb forever.

“I could be king?” The idea was preposterous, and yet… tempting.

“Your sire is king,” the wizard said impatiently.

“My mother?”

“A king's sister—an abbess, now. You met her in Shaftesbury. She'll be known one day, but not known. She chose to hide her name. But for your sake, she'd come forward.”

Rourke's brow furrowed, but his head, praise God, didn't ache.

“By what right of secession?” Rourke asked.

“Secession? Ye have the blood of kings in your veins!

You are a warrior! Ye'd take the bloody throne, starting with Scotland, and moving north, until ye hold the entire isle.”

Rourke felt the weight of the crown pressing down on his head, and the pain allowed him to think clearly. He'd never wanted that power for himself—had only gone after it for the love of his father.

“Nay. I don't want it.” The words set him free, and Galiana squeezed his hand.

“I knew ye'd say that.” The wizard spat three times. “Richard was careless, and, aye, William, too, although he's my favorite. John? Pox on him, eh? But he'll get the crown—eventually,” Merlin cackled.

“Eventually?” Galiana asked. “Not now.”

“Nay. That fool being held for ransom will get another chance at England. But beware—France cannot take British lands. If that happens, the stone will break and the isle will fall into the sea. That was the bargain that was made, and so it shall be!”

Rourke pulled Galiana to him as the ground beneath his feet shook and rumbled.

“Eleanor.” The wizard gestured for Rourke and Galiana to follow him into the fire. “Now there's a lady that was born to power. She's a ruler, that one. If only she'd had a penis, I wouldn't be worried now.”

Rourke choked, and tried to blame it on the smoke.

Galiana giggled and elbowed him.

“You're strong like that, Galiana—never forget who you share blood with! Magic comes in all forms.” He flicked his wrist, and a bouquet of lavender filled his hands. He turned, handed one stalk to Galiana, and tossed the rest aside.

“You'll make a fine guardian—if ye don't get killed leavin' the castle. John's furious, now, and he's lookin' to see who stole what he'd stolen. Rourke, yer certain ye don't want the throne? If not by the sword, then by subterfuge. Ye could claim Constance's brat as yer own.”

“No.” He'd never been more certain of anything.

“Watch your back, then. John is not your only enemy. Ye've heard of a woman scorned?”

Galiana inhaled sharply.

Rourke waved his hand against the mist. “How do we return?”

Merlin threw back his head and laughed, slapping his knee and then bending forward to hold his belly.

Rourke shifted from one foot to the next. “What's so funny?”

“You—worried about how to escape from a magical orb. Magic, boy, magic. I've still got it—though it wanes.” His mirth disappeared, and he stomped toward a rocky ledge. He snapped his fingers, and a staff appeared.

“Watch, and witness. King or no, Rourke Wallis, you and all of your seed are charged with protecting Scotland, England, and Wales.”

Rourke watched the scene unfold, just as Galiana had told it to Eleanor. The man, offering his infant son for power, and the lion, knowing his time was over. Rourke didn't want the power. He never had. He'd sacrificed enough.

The Breath of Merlin glowed eerie and mystical as it perched on the rock ledge. Merlin waved his staff around, causing more lightning to streak across the storming sky.

“Blessings on you both. Take care, and guard the stone! You must leave the castle immediately. Send Will to Eleanor—she meets with your father even now.”

Merlin's voice faded, as did his image, and Rourke felt the loss of power as his body cooled.

When he dared to open his eyes, afraid he'd be blind forever, he saw … nothing.

Blinking, he focused on Galiana's voice.

“Rourke? Rourke, you are scaring me! Wake up, wake up!” She shook his shoulder.

He counted each beat of his heart and opened his eyes but a fraction at a time. When he was at thirty, his eyes were half-slit, and he could see shadows. As before. He made himself go slowly, to savor each line as Galiana's face became clear for the first time since they'd met.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise; then she snapped it shut, but she couldn't hold back her happy grin. “You can see!”

He said a prayer of thanks to Merlin for truly opening his eyes. He and Galiana would leave, and love, together.

Reaching out to touch the softest pale rose of her cheek, he knew he'd never seen a more beautiful woman. “You weren't joking,” he said in awe.

She leaned into his touch, her pleasure evident. “Hmm?”

“You. Passably pretty. Beauty being the bane of your existence? I thought you were being sarcastic.”

Her eyes widened before she burst out laughing. Rourke knew, as she rose elegantly to her feet, he'd never get tired of watching her. Her chin—“I thought you had a pointy chin, but it's not so bad,” he said.

“Not so bad?” She put her hands to her hips. Shapely hips that had welcomed him in love.

God, he thought humbly, was this what love felt like? He wanted to hold Galiana close, to protect her, to worship her …

“Ow!” She shook her hand. “The ring stung me!”

“Merlin did say we had to hurry.” He could examine his newfound feelings later. When they were safe.

“You'll leave me in Scotland for certes, now. I don't want you to, but you can see again. You are wonderful at what you do; you said so.”

“My father wanted me to be a spy. I want to be with you. You've reached inside my cold heart and thawed feelings I thought were dead to me.” This time he went ahead and grabbed her, kissing her with all of the passion growing in his soul.

“Rourke,” she whispered, her green eyes filled with love. He swore he could see the lush green forest of time in them. “I love you.”

She saw the hope sparkle in his golden gray eyes and vowed to tell him ten times a day how much she cared for him. He'd never had anybody to protect his heart from the world.

The ring gave her another sharp sting, longer than the last one.

“We have to go,” she said, shaking her injured hand. Rourke reached out for the dull quartz-like stone. No sign of its glowing brightness remained, but Galiana quickly pulled him back from the bed.

“What?”

“Don't touch the orb again.” She shivered. “'Tis dangerous to you, now. Are you sure you wouldn't be king?”

“Aye. It must remain our secret, this …” Rourke gestured toward the orb.”

Galiana couldn't detect any regret in his tone, just relief. She exahaled slowly. “I will guard that secret as closely as I do the Breath of Merlin. Shall we return to the treasury? Our things are there.”

“We don't need them. It would be easier to escape the castle through the painting.”

She lifted her hand with the ring, which was spitting blue fire. “The Breath of Merlin may be quiet, but this thing won't shut up. We must hurry.”

Rourke grabbed the coverlet from the bed. Its rich cloth of red and gold was decorated with prancing lions. “What better royal shroud?”

“'Tis perfect.” She wrapped the orb in the cloth and knotted it tight. “Danger is coming.” She could feel it in her bones. She ran to the door, pulling Rourke by the hand. Racing down the hall at a speed she'd never dared go in her heels before, she stopped in the center. To the left was the treasury; to the right, the painting with its secret hallways. Rourke turned to the painting, but Galiana's instincts urged her to hide elsewhere.

Her heart pounded with fear, and her mouth was so dry she couldn't swallow. Tugging Rourke closer than a shadow, she chose the treasury. The knob turned magically beneath her fingers, and they went inside. She slowly, slowly, shut the door behind them. Gesturing for Rourke to get behind a trunk, which he refused to do—stubborn man—she pressed her ear to the door.

Someone was on the other side.

If whoever was out there turned the knob, she and Rourke wouldn't be guardians of anything. They'd be dead.

The keys!

Rourke pressed them into her hand. She slipped the key into the lock without a sound, praise all the angels, and held her breath.

The knob jiggled. It turned.

The key held as the ring on her finger warmed to an uncomfortable degree. She was the guardian now, and it was up to her and Rourke to see that the Breath of Merlin saved Britain from falling into the deep sea.

It was a simple chore, aye? She lifted her chin and felt, rather than heard, Rourke's chuckle.

The door handle stopped moving. The sweet scent of nasturtium assaulted her senses.

Franz.

The ring remained warm, so she stayed very quiet.

“Merde.”

She heard the word, and then rushed footsteps ran down the stairs just as the painting across the hall creaked the tiniest bit.

For a deserted hallway, the place was busy.

John's cologne, that awful sandalwood and ash, announced his arrival.

She was too afraid to breathe.

Her pulse battered against her neck like a trapped butterfly.

Rourke's tension was tangible, and she could feel him brace his body for battle.

Whistling, John made his way down the hall toward what Gali hoped would be his own chamber … What if he entered Richard's rooms and noticed the mess she and Rourke had made? Or worse, the missing orb?

Gali's mind whirled with possibilities. What if Franz worked for John and was even now telling the prince his suspicions of her and Rourke … They had to leave. Immediately.

The door to Prince John's bedroom opened, then closed, and Galiana carefully expelled her pent-up breath as the ring on her finger cooled.

She turned, pointing to the coil of rope in the ceiling.

Rourke shook his head, and she easily read his expression. We aren't coming back here.

Closing her eyes, trusting the ring with her and Rourke's lives, she opened the door and darted across the hall to the painting. She felt Rourke behind her as she ran blindly through the secret hallways. “My chamber?”

Rourke whispered, “No time to pack. I'll buy you whatever you want. Let's just get to the horses.”

“We'll need Will,” she said.

“I have a feeling he'll be in the stables.”

Not only was the faithful squire there, but their horses were already saddled. Galiana noted her cask and bags tied to the leather seat and leaned in to kiss Will's cheek. “How did you know?”

Will shrugged, discomfited. “I had a dream. Weird old man with a beard. Bossy, he was. I was half afraid ye wouldn't come, and more afraid ye would.”

Galiana laughed, accepting and believing in the strange turn of events. “You know, then, that you must ride to Queen Eleanor. Tell her all is well. And ask her to speak to King William; she'll know what about.”

They mounted, and Galiana's ring warmed. She squirmed with urgency.

“I know—we must hurry,” Rourke said.

“What is the great rush?” a mocking voice asked.

Galiana wished she'd walked away from the castle and never come to the stables for their horses. How had the prince found them out so quickly? Franz. Poor Rourke, to be betrayed by a friend after all.

Prince John stepped forward into the light and raked Galiana with a sharp, powerful gaze. “You didn't shut the painting in your hurry to leave the royal apartments. Where are you off to now?” He clucked his teeth and rubbed his manicured beard. The jewels on his rings glittered with the malice of their owner. Galiana hated the smell of sandalwood.

Rourke brought his horse next to hers. “Painting? I don't know what you are talking about.” Rourke shrugged. “It wasn't us in the royal apartments, my prince,” he lied as smooth as glass. “There are guards posted at either side of the stairs preventing anyone going up.”

Prince John arched both his brows and gestured to the man standing behind him in the shadows. “You've skill at outing a liar,” the prince said. Galiana's dismay heightened when she recognized William Marshall.

Was he one of the prince's loyal minions, turning his back on his king in favor of immediate power? She'd thought better of him. Relying on her training as a lady to see her through whatever happened next, she lifted her chin and refused to lower her gaze.

“Do you deny the prince's accusation?” William Marshall asked.

Galiana held her tongue. Rourke, glib liar that he could be, spoke for them both. “Aye. We've been enjoying our time together,” he reached over to put his hand possessively on her neck, his thumb caressing the love bite she'd forgotten about.

This time she did lower her gaze.

William Marshall chuckled. “Ah, well, and where was it that you trysted, then? For certes, I'd not risk my health being where I knew it would get me hanged if I had such a lovely lady at my side.”