Beauty's Curse (9 page)

“We burn the incriminating, treasonous, letter your brother wrote—after stealing the supplies—”

“Aye, little thief,” Will agreed.

“What, and let the bugger off?” Robert kicked the table leg.

Galiana pressed her lips together, knowing she couldn't question ‘Ned' until later. She hoped the real Ned had the good sense to hide until this farce was over.

“Bugger this,” Ed said with false bravado.

“Shhh—that does not help.” Galiana edged her brother closer to the back wall.

“As I was saying”—Rourke raised his voice—“we can burn the evidence of your brother's crime.”

Nodding, Galiana started to lower the blade again.

“At the same time that we burn the dispensation. A fair exchange, don't you think?”

“No,” Galiana spluttered. “I don't. My family is descended—”

“My lady, please stop putting off the inevitable. We see that the royal seal is on the dispensation,” Godfrey said.

“King Richard's seal,” Ed protested, scooting his head around her shoulder. “Ye can't burn it!”

Franz rubbed his short moustache. “Is a royal decree more important than a sealed royal document?”

Galiana noticed that each of the knights seemed to be pondering the question, as if they had a say in her future, too.

Was she the only one who did not?

Ridiculous!

And what game, exactly, was Rourke playing? She hadn't forgotten his whispers of treachery—had he been warning her he was the one who couldn't be trusted?

Nay, his warning had been too intense. The danger had to be from somewhere, or someone, else.

Godfrey, older than the rest of the knights and more seasoned at life, shrugged the issue away. “We're here on England's behalf—to tally the taxes owed for the crown and collect the difference.”

“My father was recently raised in station and just gifted new land. He doesn't owe taxes until after the first harvest. This is but the first of February.”

“We're in the middle of a blizzard,” Ed cut in with sarcasm. “Or do ye tax on snowfall?”

“Watch your mouth, lad, else you'll be missing your tongue!” Jamie stepped forward, and Galiana slipped between the annoyed knight and her brother, who seemed unafraid—the fool.

Then again, she was in no position to judge, as she was holding a table knife against a room filled with war-hardened knights.

“Jamie, leave the boy be. The taxes were a cover to get into the manor so I could have the lady. My lady, what will you do? Save your brother from the tower because of his poisonous pen, by simply agreeing to burn the dispensation? Or sentence young Ned here to death by hanging for treason so you can be true to your family's trumped-up legacy?”

“'Tis not make-believe!” She responded to the taunt in Rourke's voice, infuriated. “What choice is that?”

“I wouldn't want you to try and annul the marriage, my lady, by screaming force.”

“Just take her, Rourke, and be done with it,” Robert smacked his sword against the floor.

“Robbie, you have much to learn about the ladies,” Franz said with a sigh.

Godfrey humphed. “Aye, but he has a point. Wed her, bed her, and collect the rents. Prince John will be happy enough with that.”

“And just how is our Rourke to have a happy household if he starts his years of wedded bliss with the bride unwillin'?” Jamie crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Happens all the time.” Robert snorted.

Galiana, quite irritated with the way the conversation was going, remembered she was trained to be a lady. Catching her brother's eye, she did as she'd been taught and fainted like a delicately wilting flower into Ed's waiting arms.

“Galiana?” Rourke heard her soft sigh, then his men rushing forward. Jamie, God bless him, said loudly, “She's fainted. Stand back; give her air.”

“No wonder,” Franz agreed. “The brave lady was a lioness protecting her cub,” he said poetically.

The ‘boy,' Ned, scoffed. “I'm her brother.”

Rourke worried that perhaps the situation was too much for a lady of her standing, and hoped he hadn't pushed too far. Odd, though, since he'd gotten the idea the lady was made of sterner stuff. His life, and the lives of his men, depended on his character studies—but he wasn't himself now, was he?

He narrowed his eyes, feeling the tug at the side of his face as the movement pulled at his stitches. For a mere blink in time, he saw shadowed images all bent over a blob of gray fabric.

Rourke fisted his hands in fury, and then relaxed his expression. He sensed someone staring at him, so he threw back his shoulders and ordered, “Bring her to the cot.”

“She's fine,” her brother said. “Don't touch her.”

The entire family had control issues. Well, it was time they learned that he, Lord Rourke Wallis, was in charge. “Bring her to the cot, fetch the priest, and do it now!”

“She has to be conscious to say her part,” Will snickered. Rourke decided extra lessons in knightly behavior would be added for the young squire. Not the prissy manners being touted at court, but polite behavior. For Robert, too.

“Why the priest?” Ned asked in a warbling voice.

Had he ever been so young? Poised on the brink of manhood, ready to do battle for what was right. Ha, Rourke thought as he pinched the bridge of his nose, I was reared on lies and intrigue. Battle with swords kept a man at his physical peak, while battle with the mind kept him sharp and alert.

It was his mind that would keep him out of the gallows today, and mayhap the innocent Galiana would forgive him at the end. He shouldn't care—she was a duty, nothing more. Except—except, damn it all, she'd been kind when he'd been vulnerable.

Jamie brushed by him. “I've got her here, although I'll not be part of a ceremony where the bride is snoring.”

It was the tiniest intake of breath that alerted Rourke to the fact that the sweet, innocent lady might be faking. Relying on his senses was a part of what made him a successful spy—now, with his vision compromised, his hearing was more acute.

He turned, following Jamie's voice as his foster brother laid Galiana down on the mattress. Rourke could easily imagine a feminine form in his bed. She'd be faintly pretty, and soft. He didn't mind her sarcasm; it added the right amount of spice. The kind of woman a man could sate his hunger with. Squinting his eyes, hoping for a blurred shadow, he saw nothing.

A sharp pain pierced between his brows.

Jamie turned and put his hand on Rourke's shoulder. “I had a mangy dog once that looked better than you.”

Rourke coughed to cover a curse. “I hope you slit its throat and put that mutt out of its misery.”

“Feelin' bad, then?”

“Aye.”

“Sit, here.” Jamie casually pushed him down and Rourke sat, his arse miraculously hitting a stool.

His head throbbed. “The priest, Jamie. I want him to hold both documents until this matter is settled. I'd thought to leave for court tomorrow.”

“Snow's kept us trapped in these past few days, Rourke,” Godfrey said. “But I'll look this afternoon. It would be nice if the skies would clear.” Rourke was grateful for the older man's practicality.

“Will you bring the lady with us?” Franz's voice held a note of interest that brought Rourke's instincts to the fore. What if Franz was the other spy, the betrayer in their tight-knit group?

“The lady Galiana, you mean? Will I take my new wife to court?” Rourke turned his head toward the space where he could hear Galiana taking even breaths. He'd have to tell her that a person never breathed like that unless they were feigning sleep. “She'll obey me, whatever I command.”

Her breath hitched, and he railed against Fate that he couldn't see her. He imagined her delicate fury would be intriguing to view. Was she blond, with fair skin, prone to blushes? Dark, with olive flesh that hinted of roses?

How long had it been since a woman had held a secret from him?

Jamie gave his shoulder a shove. “Rourke, my man, I'll send down the bailiff, and he can go over the monies. The priest can hold the letter that scrap of a lad penned.”

“Don't forget the dispensation,” Ned growled, and Rourke heard the boy's desire to protect his family in the undertone.

“Nobody's forgetting anything,” Rourke assured him.

“Well, what are we doing, then?” Will asked.

Thinking quick, Rourke rubbed his temple wound.

“This pains me yet, but I'd be moved from the sick room to the master's chambers.”

Again, he heard the barely perceptible change in Galiana as she tried to stay still.

“Of course,” Godfrey said, “we should have had ye there already.”

“Nay,” Jamie clapped his large hand over Rourke's shoulder and squeezed. “This allowed more privacy, whilst the lady mended his broken crown, aye?”

While Rourke appreciated the sly innuendo that had his men chuckling, he detested the word crown. “My head aches, but I'll be ready to travel as soon as the weather permits. Has anyone been to the village since we've arrived?”

“No,” Robert said. “We made a path to the barns and stables, but naught else.”

Rourke dipped his head down, his hands to his temples, as a way to avoid making eye contact, or not making eye contact, with someone he couldn't see. He groaned for good measure.

“Out, now, all of ye,” Jamie ordered. “Rourke, we'll get that chamber readied right away.”

“I'll stay with my sister,” Ned announced.

Rourke thought the lad might make a great knight, the way he took charge. He said, “You'll not, actually.”

“You freed me!”

“Aye, from the solar. But I don't particularly trust you. Franz, keep Ned out of trouble, would you?”

“With pleasure,” the French knight replied. Rourke knew if he could see the displaced nobleman, Franz would be stroking his beard, searching the boy for any sign of deceit.

Franz de Lacey was a master gambler, as well as a wicked swordsman, and he'd keep the boy from any further meddling where he didn't belong.

It would also tie the knight's hands, if he, by chance, happened to be the traitor in their circle.

Well aware of the dangers of court intrigue, Rourke didn't think he was the only one in the royal court's employ. But who served which king? That was the question that, if left unanswered, could lead to their deaths.

Christ's bones! All the players in this intrigue were in this room together now. Who had stolen King William's ring from his bag? His forehead throbbed with tension. Should he have Jamie lock the door, and demand a complete search of everyone?

But if he was wrong … What if the ring had fallen out of the pack? Or mayhap it had slipped from its pocket during the attack from Lord Harold. Then he'd be giving himself away. Icy tendrils of apprehension snaked around his shoulders.

It was possible, too, that whoever had stolen the token from King William might have already hidden it again—and then Rourke would have given up his advantage for naught. He stared as hard as he could, but nothing came into focus. What if his sight never returned?

Damn it to Hades. Real fear coiled in his gut—but just for a heartbeat.

He wouldn't be defeated. Not here, in this dungeon that smelled like lavender and lemon and sage. There was no pride in waving the flag of surrender.

Rourke banished any doubts regarding the success of his mission. He'd not failed yet, and even blind he could see more than most. It was who he was.

Another possibility, and the one that appealed to him most, was that whoever had taken the jewel didn't understand what they held.

The key to two thrones.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Ned said loudly. Then Rourke heard a squeal and imagined Franz was helping the impudent lad along. Scuffling up the stairs, Franz said conversationally, “If we are to be friends, then we shall speak to one another as friends, oui?”

The squealing persisted until Ned agreed. “Ye didn't have to pinch me ear off!”

Rourke allowed the brief hope that Franz, a man he respected, would not be his enemy—but he knew better than to trust anyone.

“You'll not force her, Rourke?” Godfrey asked from somewhere near the bottom of the stairs. Keeping one eye closed, the one that had stitches next to it, he lifted his head and set his mouth in a forbidding line.

“How dare ye ask that?” Jamie roared, taking two large steps away from Rourke's side.

“No offense meant, Jamie.” Godfrey remained calm. “There is much at stake here, and the lady is a grand prize. Land aplenty, if a man were thinkin' to retire.”

“Her father's lands,” Rourke clarified. “Besides, I have no need of another man's property. And you already have a wife, and children, so don't think about the lady's assets.” Then again, men did strange things for the good of their family.