Books by Maggie Shayne (93 page)

"This is my fault.
 
I shouldn't have made you take me to that game."

Rhiannon shook her head quickly.
 
"I was the one who insisted you go, and I don't regret it a bit."
 
Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as the needle was plied once more.
 
She felt beads of icy sweat upon her forehead.
 
"You played wonderfully, Jamey.
 
I thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"You could have been killed."

"No danger of that with Roland around."
 
Again a jab, and again she sucked in a sharp breath.
 
"Of course, protecting helpless women is old hat to him."

"You are hardly helpless, Rhiannon," Roland stated, but his lips were set in a thin line as he worked.

"He was a knight.
 
Did you know that?"
 
She had to say something, anything to distract Jamey from the bitter fury she sensed overwhelming him, and to distract herself from her own suffering.
 
It was unfair for one to be so strong and yet so weak.
 
And though she tried to disguise her agony from both of them, she knew she was failing utterly.
 
Roland's face grew more pale and the hatred in Jamison's eyes increased with every gasp she drew.

Her effort to distract the boy seemed to work, for Jamey's eyes widened.
 
For once, he lost the look of a haunted young man, and looked like a boy, filled with wonder.
 
"A knight?
 
With armor and swords, and all that?"

"Yes.
 
He was knighted by King Louis VII, for heroism.
 
But he's never told me the entire story."
 
She squeezed her eyes tightly against hot tears as the needle poked again.
 
She wanted to hear the tale, she realized.
 
It would alleviate some of the pain.
 
More over, she sensed Roland needed to tell it.

He shot her a look meant to quell her, but she responded with a quick shake of her head.

"Will you tell us now, Roland?"

Roland glanced quickly at Jamey.

"Yes, I wish you would," a deep voice boomed from beyond the open door.
 
Rhiannon looked up quickly to see a large, handsome man, and a petite woman with a head of long, dark curls and perfectly round, doe's eyes.
 
Immortals, both of them.

"Eric."
 
Roland stood at once, dropping his implement of torture to the bedside stand.
 
The two men met in the center of the room and embraced as if they were brothers.
 
Jamey ran to the woman, who wrapped her arms around him and began sniffling like some simpering human.

From the corner of her eye, Rhiannon saw Pandora crouch.
 
The cat's teeth became visible as her lip curled away from them in a menacing snarl.
 
Her claws extended to a dangerous length, and her haunches tensed as she prepared to spring upon the woman holding Jamey.

There was no time to shout a warning.
 
Rhiannon lunged from the bed, landing awkwardly upon the cat, clinging tightly to her neck.
 
The stitches Roland had painstakingly administered tore free, and she cried out in excruciating pain.

The soft-looking female flung herself away from Jamey, and fell to her knees beside Rhiannon.
 
Pandora struggled free of Rhiannon's weakened grasp, but was firmly caught again by Jamey.
 
Then Roland was scooping her back into the bed, swearing under his breath.

"Mind telling us what the hell is going on, old friend?"

Roland didn't look at Eric.
 
His tortured gaze remained on Rhiannon's face.
 
He swept her hair out of her eyes and smoothed it back.
 
"We had a little run-in with DPI.
 
I'll fill you in later."
 
Roland searched for his needle, and tried to thread it without success.
 
Through the burning tears, Rhiannon saw the violence with which his hands trembled.

The small woman touched his shoulder.
 
"Let me."

Sighing in unmistakable relief, Roland surrendered the implements, and got to his feet.
 
The woman took his place on the bed at her side.
 
"I'm Tamara."

"Rhiannon," she said through grated teeth.
 
"And I'll have no more of that needle."

Tamara frowned and glanced down at the wound, bending to push the camisole up, out of the way.
 
"Doesn't look like you have a choice."
 
Her head swung around sharply when the cat stepped up and sniffed at her hand.
 
Jamey still held the panther by the diamond-studded collar.

"Pandora, my cat," Rhiannon supplied, her voice weakening by the second.

"What are you doing here?"
 
Roland's voice was clipped as he addressed Eric.
 
"The village is swarming with DPI agents."

"Yes, that's why we've come.
 
We thought you might need reinforcements."

"But how did you know?"

Tamara bit her lip as she applied the needle.
 
"I have a friend, Hilary Garner, who still works for them.
 
She's kept us informed.
 
DPI knows you're in the area, but not about the castle.
 
Not yet, anyway."

Rhiannon shook her head.
 
The woman worked swiftly, and steadily.
 
It would soon be over, at least she could be certain of that much.
 
"Curtis Rogers knows.
 
He was at the front gate only last night."

"Curt is here?"
 
Tamara's skin paled, and her hand stilled briefly.

"Not at the moment.
 
I sent him on a wild-goose chase."

"If Rogers knows, he's keeping it to himself," Eric said, his voice low and dangerous.
 
"No doubt he wants to exact his revenge single-handedly."

Tamara looked up suddenly, her gaze meeting Jamey's across the room.
 
Her eyes took on a troubled expression.
 
"Enough talk about Curt and DPI.
 
I, for one, am dying to hear this medieval tale.
 
Roland, a knight?
 
No wonder you ooze such chivalrous charm."

Rhiannon shot a narrow look toward Tamara.
 
She disliked this fledgling's open flirting.

"I was a knight.
 
There is little else to tell."
 
Roland's expression was guarded.

"I doubt that is the case, Roland," Eric said.

"Doubt all you like.
 
There is little else I care to tell, then.
 
Leave it."

His clipped tone left no question as to his stand on the topic.
 
Eric's brows rose, but he nodded.
 
"If that's what you wish."

Tamara put one final stitch into Rhiannon's side, tied the knot and set the needle aside.
 
Rhiannon sighed loudly.
 
"Thank God that is over."

"Lie still until dawn, Rhiannon.
 
If you tear them out before then, I'll have to do it all over again."

Rhiannon was stunned.
 
Was this mere fledgling threatening her?
 
Her?
 
Rhiannon?
 
Princess of Egypt?

Then the slip of a thing glanced down at her and winked.
 
"It's late.
 
Jamey, you ought to be getting to bed."

To Rhiannon's surprise, Jamey didn't argue with Tamara.
 
He nodded, and glanced toward a chair in a corner, where Freddy already slumped, snoring.

*
   
*
   
*
   
*
   
*

Eric had a crackling fire blazing in the hearth, behind the protective screen.
 
Rhiannon lay still in the oversize bed, and Roland thought even she looked small in its billowing folds and covers.
 
He hadn't seen Tamara since the death of Jamey's mother, eight months ago.
 
Tamara and Kathryn Bryant had been friends before Tamara's transformation, so the young one had taken it hard.
 
He still saw that pain lingering in her eyes.
 
Along with it, he saw her worry for Jamey.

"He's so different.
 
So... full of anger."

"Most of it aimed at DPI, and Curtis Rogers in particular," Roland told her.
 
"It troubles me.
 
And it troubles me still further to leave the boy unguarded by day.
 
Except for Frederick, there is no one to watch over him."

"Well, we can solve that problem, for the moment at least."

Roland frowned at Eric's statement.
 
"What on earth do you mean?"

"I've been experimenting with a new drug, a sort of a supercharged amphetamine.
 
By using it, I can remain awake and alert by day."

"In sunlight?"
 
Roland was amazed.
 
True, he'd known of Eric's passion for test tubes and chemicals, but he'd never dreamed of results such as this.

"No, I need to remain shielded from the sun."

Rhiannon sat up slightly only to have Tamara, ever attentive, sit beside her and help her into an upright position.
 
As she bent to tuck more pillows behind her, the young one said, "There are side effects, Roland.
 
Without the benefit of the regenerative sleep, he gets weak, tired, not to mention damned irritable."

"Never mind that," Roland said quickly.
 
"You'll give me this drug and I'll be able to guard Jamey by day."

"I'll guard him myself, Roland.
 
Until we think of a better solution."

Roland shook his head quickly.
 
"No.
 
It is my responsibility--"

"You can both do it," Tamara interrupted.
 
"Take turns, for heaven's sake."

Rhiannon sighed hard and shook her head.
 
"A fine solution, but a temporary one.
 
I believe you are all overlooking the obvious."

Roland moved nearer the bedside.
 
Her face still twisted with pain whenever she moved, but besides that, she seemed to be holding her own.
 
"What is it, Rhiannon?"

"Somewhere on the planet, the boy has a father, does he not?"

Her words were a blade in his heart.
 
"A... father?"
 
He shot a questioning glance at Tamara.

"Kathryn's husband left her before Jamey was born.
 
He might not even know he has a son.
 
His name was James.
 
James Adam Knudson."
 
She shook her head.
 
"I wouldn't know where to begin searching for him."

"Not that it matters.
 
A man who would abandon a wife and child has no right to reclaim either one of them."
 
Roland stalked away from Rhiannon.
 
She didn't argue the point.
 
And no one again suggested that Jamey might be better off with his natural parent.

Roland filled his friends in on what had happened at the stadium, and Rhiannon told them of the strange man who'd attacked her, and his demands.

*
   
*
   
*
   
*
   
*

Toward dawn, Eric took Tamara down to the dungeons, to one of the hidden resting places Roland had at the ready.
 
After hours of discussion, Eric had finally agreed to allow Roland to take the drug, and remain awake through the daylight hours to watch over Jamey.
 
He'd given Roland three vials of fluid, to be taken at four-hour intervals, beginning well before the lethargy began to steal over him.

Roland swallowed the first of them, grimacing at the bitter taste.
 
He tucked the empty vial into a pocket, and climbed the stairs to check in on Jamey and Frederick.
 
Pandora lay at the foot of Jamey's bed.
 
Jamey slept peacefully.

He returned to his chambers.
 
There was still an hour before dawn.
 
He found Rhiannon still in his bed, though she'd obviously been up briefly.
 
Long enough to "borrow" one of his white shirts, and shed the bloodstained camisole, along with every other scrap of clothing she'd worn.
 
She lay on her side, giving him an optimum view of the long, slender leg exposed beneath the shirt's hem.

"When dawn approaches, I'll take you below."

She rolled onto her back, wincing slightly with the action, and bending one knee.
 
"I've no desire to rest my bones in a dungeon."

"Rhiannon, it isn't safe here."
 
He turned to pace away from her.
 
"Hasn't this incident taught you a thing about caution?"

"Posh, Roland, this is a perfectly secure place to rest.
 
Draw those musty old drapes of yours, bolt the door, and there you are.
 
Indulge me just this once.
 
I promise I won't make a habit of napping here and disturbing your precious solitude."

"With everyone milling about the castle, my solitude has long since been shot to hell, as the expression goes.
 
Here, my dear, is the only place you'll be napping in the foreseeable future.
 
I want you where I can be sure you're safe."

She bit her lower lip as if to think it over.
 
He knew the tone of command in his voice would rankle her.
 
Still, he wouldn't have her in some insecure little house so near a village overrun with DPI operatives.