Books by Maggie Shayne (97 page)

"I could very well have been.
 
You take less care than a whirling dervish."

"I daresay, I've known more dervishes than you have Roland, and I take a good deal more care than they."
 
His arms still imprisoned hers, and she shook free.
 
She lifted the briefcase, and thrust it at him.
 
"Maybe you'll stop being so angry when you see what I have."

"I don't care what you have, you could have been killed or captured trying to get it.
 
When are you going to listen to me, Rhiannon?"

"Just look at it, Roland.
 
I know you'll be pleased."

He thrust the case back into her hands: "Not here."
 
He gripped her arm and began striding away, down the alley.

She tugged free once again, sorely hurt that he didn't even care to see what she'd accomplished.
 
"I have a car waiting.
 
A rental."

"Leave it," he barked.

"Go to hell, Roland.
 
My packages are inside."

She raced away from him before he could grab her again.
 
In seconds, she'd settled herself behind the steering wheel.
 
She was surprised when the passenger door jerked open and he slid in beside her.
 

"You detest automobiles."

 
"I'll put up with one tonight."

A little of her anger faded.
 
"Just to be with me?"

"Yes."

She very nearly grinned.

"Because if I let you out of my sight, there is no telling what kind of foolish thing you'll do next."

He could have slapped her and hurt her less.
 
She refused to let him see it, though.
 
She started the engine and pulled away from the hotel.
 
The case rested on the seat between them.
 
He didn't make a move to look inside and she wouldn't ask again.

She pulled to a stop right in front of her rental house, and Roland scowled.
 
"Keep going, Rhiannon."

"I only want to fetch my suitcase."

"Then park somewhere else and we'll walk back for it.
 
No sense announcing our presence."

"Stop telling me what to do."

"Someone has to.
 
You haven't sense enough to act responsibly on your own."

She got out and slammed the door.
 
"That's enough.
 
I am staying right here.
 
I wouldn't go back to that musty old castle of yours if there were twenty DPI men waiting for me right now."

She dragged the briefcase out of the car as Roland jumped out the opposite door.
 
She threw it at him, putting a good deal of force into it.
 
The case hit him squarely in the chest, and he staggered backward.
 
"Give it to Eric.
 
It's the tranquilizer.
 
I thought he might like to examine it, see if he can come up with an antidote, or something."

"Rhiannon, don't be ridiculous."
 
He tossed the case back into the car and came around it.
 
He caught up with her, gripped her upper arms and made her face him.
 
Then his eyes widened, and he looked at her in disbelief.
 
"You're crying."

She ripped one arm free of him, even though doing so hurt considerably, and dashed the tears from her face with her hand.
 
"No, I'm not."

He shook his head slowly.
 
"Rhiannon, I didn't mean to hurt you--"

"You?
 
Hurt me?"
 
She released a bark of laughter.
 
"I am the daughter of a Pharaoh, a princess of Egypt.
 
Men fall at my feet if I wish it.
 
Mortals and immortals alike.
 
Do you really think I can be hurt by the likes of you?"
 
Her throat burned.
 
"I hate you, Roland de Courtemanche.
 
I detest you, and you will not have the opportunity to reject me ever again."

*
   
*
   
*
   
*
   
*

Roland returned to the castle alone.
 
He drove the car, for the simple reason that he didn't want DPI to see it outside Rhiannon's house and realize she was inside.
 
He wasn't even certain they knew it was her house, but it would seem likely.
 
Her description would have been bandied about L'Ombre, and questions asked.
 
Someone would know the elusive Rhiannon had rented the cottage.

He entered through the front door, and found no one about.
 
He stalked to his chambers and stopped in the doorway, unable for a moment, to draw a breath.

Frederick glanced down from the ladder where he stood, polishing the silver chandelier that winked and sparkled.
 
Tamara stopped swiping the bare windows with the wet cloth.
 
Eric glanced up from the hearth where he knelt with a wire brush, scrubbing the stones.
 
Jamey lowered the broom with which he'd been attacking cobwebs.

"Where's Rhiannon?" the boy asked.

Roland looked at the floor, rather than into Jamey's eyes.
 
The cat came toward him, tail swishing, a similar question in her feline eyes.
 
"She's at the house she rented.
 
She wanted to stay there."

"Roland..."
 
Tamara's voice carried a warning, but Eric stopped her with a glance and came forward.

"What's in the briefcase, my friend?"

He looked down, having nearly forgotten what he carried.
 
"It's the drug, the tranquilizer Rogers used against you before."

Eric lifted one eyebrow.
 
"How did you--"

"Not me.
 
Rhiannon.
 
She slipped into Rogers's hotel suite and stole it."

Eric's jaw dropped for just a moment.

Jamey smiled and shook his head.
 
"Man, she's got guts."

"Guts?"
 
Roland scowled at the boy.
 
"It was an idiotic thing to do.
 
Rogers was in the room at the time, not to mention that other fellow.
 
The one who nearly killed her."

"And she went in there, anyway," Jamey insisted.
 
"That took guts."

"She is reckless and self-destructive."

Tamara threw the washrag she'd been using onto the floor and stomped across the room.
 
"She is brave, and cunning, and absolutely beautiful.
 
I wish I were more like her."

Eric looked at her, a hint of alarm on his face.
 
"I like you the way you are, Tamara."

"Rhiannon is far too sure of herself.
 
She should be more careful."
 
Roland slung the briefcase onto a stand and sunk into a chair.

"She's not at all sure of herself.
 
Roland, you hurt her again, didn't you?"

"What on earth do you mean, 'again'?"

"Tamara, leave him alone.
 
Roland is right about this.
 
Rhiannon takes far too many risks."
 
Eric touched her shoulder and she whirled on him, glaring in a way Roland had rarely seen her do.
 
"If one of you had done what she did tonight, you'd be congratulating yourselves until dawn.
 
Why on earth can't you give the woman some credit?"

"Did Rhiannon get the new drapes?"
 
Frederick called down from the ladder.

Roland lifted his head.
 
He felt a heavy burden of guilt lowering itself upon his shoulders, and Tamara was only adding to it.
 
He'd wanted to protect Rhiannon.
 
Instead, he'd somehow hurt her.
 
"Out in the car, I believe."
 
He looked once again at the rooms around him, and shook his head.
 
"You've all been working nonstop all night, haven't you?"

"Don't thank us," Tamara snapped.
 
"We did it for her, not you."
 
She hurried out of the room with Jamey on her heels.
 
Frederick limped down from the ladder and went after them.

Eric sat in a chair opposite Roland.
 
"A car?
 
Care to tell me how that came about?"

Roland did, beginning with the luggage in the cottage, and ending with the scene outside it.
 
As he spoke, Jamey carried in a package containing the new drapes, and took his place on the ladder to hang them.
 
Frederick came in to help, setting a box containing no less than a hundred candles, on the floor.

Roland and Eric largely ignored the two, and soon they trooped out again to return with more packages.
 
It was a full thirty minutes before Eric frowned hard and looked up.
 
"Where is Tamara?"

Frederick only shrugged and limped out once more.

Jamey went to follow, but Eric gripped his arm.
 
"Jamison, tell me where she is."

Jamey licked his lips.
 
"She went to Rhiannon's.
 
Don't be mad, Eric.
 
She made me promise not to say a word."

Eric grimaced and whirled to go out the door.
 
He nearly collided with Tamara and Rhiannon.
 
Roland swallowed hard, relief welling up that she was here, safe.
 
She looked around the room with ill-concealed surprise.
 
Roland thought she deliberately avoided his eyes.

"Your drapes are perfect, Rhiannon.
 
The color of sunshine, and still heavy enough to keep it out.
 
They look wonderful."
 
Tamara's hand rested gently upon Rhiannon's arm.

"Tamara, you scared me half to death."
 
Eric pulled her into his arms and squeezed her hard.
 
"Next time you get the notion to go off on your own, would you check with me, please?"

"Why should I?"
 
She thrust her chin up at him, but slanted a glance toward Roland.

"Because I love you, Tamara.
 
If anything should happen to you..."
 
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
 
"It would kill me.
 
You know that."

Again she looked at Roland, her glare as piercing as a blade.
 
When she faced Eric again, her expression softened.
 
"I know.
 
I'm sorry I worried you."
 
She kissed him lingeringly, and Roland averted his gaze.
 
He noticed Rhiannon had turned away, too.

Frederick had mounted the ladder and was fitting candles into the holders.
 
Tamara turned to him.
 
"It's late, Frederick.
 
Why don't we leave the rest for another time?"

He nodded, fit one last candle into place, and climbed slowly down.
 
Rhiannon picked up her case and walked through the double doors into the bedroom.
 
She put it on the bed, and began unpacking.

Eric went in behind her.
 
"Getting those vials was quite a coup, Rhiannon.
 
I might be able to find a way to nullify the drug's effects, given time."

"I was hoping that would be the case."
 
She cleared her throat.
 
"I learned a bit while I was in the hotel room.
 
The man who attacked me is not with DPI.
 
He calls himself Lucien."

Roland's attention was caught.
 
As Tamara hustled Jamey and Frederick toward the door, shooing Pandora out with them, Roland moved into the bedroom.

She didn't look at him, only kept removing things from her case, sorting them into neat stacks on the bed.
 
"No one in DPI knows about this castle.
 
Only Curtis Rogers and this Lucien.
 
He convinced Curtis to tell him while I was listening in.
 
He offered to help capture me, in exchange for certain... privileges."

"What sort of privileges?"
 
Roland couldn't keep quiet any longer.

Rhiannon barely spared him a glance.
 
"He asked if Curtis would tranquilize me to the point of absolute helplessness and then let him have me alone for as long as he needed."

Tamara gasped from the doorway.
 
Roland swore fluently.
 
Rhiannon shook her head.
 
"He wants to be transformed.
 
I imagine that is the only thing he would force me to do.
 
Not that I intend to give him the chance."

Roland paced toward her.
 
"Why you?
 
Why doesn't he target one of us?"

"He said because I was the oldest.
 
He wants high-proof blood, Roland."
 
It was the first time she'd addressed him directly.
 
Her eyes still looked like those of a wounded animal, and he realized all over again how deeply he had hurt her.

Eric put a hand on Rhiannon's shoulder.
 
"We all care about you, Rhiannon.
 
For that reason, we hope you won't take any more unnecessary risks."

She faced him head-on.
 
"I will not cower in a corner and wait for them to come for me.
 
They will be the ones cowering before I finish.
 
They will wish they'd never heard my name."

Tamara touched Eric's arm, and tilted her head toward the door.
 
He sent Roland a sympathetic glance before they left.
 
Alone with Rhiannon, Roland had no idea what to say.