Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (42 page)

The prisoner appeared around the corner flanked by soldiers, the priest walking at his side reading from the open bible in his palms. Nolton had shaved and donned a fresh suit of clothes. The wound in his leg healed as he walked toward his stage to meet his death in excellent health. His step faltered on the stairs, and the soldiers closed in as though expecting him to run.

Nate saw the shudder run through the other man’s form before he climbed higher and stepped under the waiting noose. The executioner approached with the black hood and Nolton waved the man away.

“No,” he said. His gaze found Nate as the rope tightened around his neck.

Sir John stepped forward. “Duke Grantham Nolton, you have been found guilty of the crime of treason and sentenced to be hanged until dead. Do you have any last words?”

A sneer pulled at his mouth. “I wouldn’t waste my breath on the likes of you.”

Sir John turned and descended the stairs. At the bottom, he gave a small nod to the black clad workman left on the platform.

Reaching out his right arm, he jerked hard on a lever. A
clap
sounded as the trap door flung open and smacked the underside of the floor. Then came a gasp, followed by a gurgle. The executioner had miscalculated the drop. There would be no easy dispatch for Granite Grantham as his soul fought against the grip of the hemp around his throat.

Nate waited until the struggles ceased before leaving the Tower grounds and climbing into the waiting carriage. Cara sat inside, a question in her eyes as he drew her into his embrace.

“It’s over, and his end mirrored what he did to Bubbles, Irina, and the other women.”

She let out a sigh and laid her head on his shoulder as the mechanical horses pulled the carriage to Buckingham Palace and the waiting queen.

The secretary pushed open the double doors and ushered Nate and Cara into the queen’s presence. He didn’t announce them and backed out quickly before he drew the attention of his mistress. Cara’s fingers intertwined with Nate’s as she dropped into a curtsey and he bowed.

Queen Victoria looked up from her desk, her face red from countless nights crying until she exhausted her tears. Her eyes were flat and lifeless, the joy and laughter taken from her. Clothed from head to foot in black, the colour drained from her face, she wore a new dour expression as though she would never smile again.

“Is it done?” Her tone chilled Cara to her toes.

God, I hope she’s not sending us to the Tower.
Her fingers squeezed Nate’s larger hand, seeking reassurance that this wasn’t the end and if it were, they would face it together.

“Yes, ma’am. The matter is concluded.”

She nodded and laid down her fountain pen. “Through our own foolishness, we have lost the one person who meant the most to us. Me,” she whispered, rising from her desk. “The most important person in this world to
me
.” She dropped the third person for a rare glimpse at the heartbroken woman underneath. A deep breath and the moment moved on, the monarch returned. “We have a new position for the two of you. We are charging you with finding, and if possible, destroying these hell-spawned objects. You will be the royal artifact hunters. You may recruit two other individuals to assist you, so long as they can be trusted completely. No one must ever learn of your true mission.”

Cara glanced at Nate, his face unreadable. Instead of executing them, the queen had just offered them jobs.

“I had thought to retire to the countryside, ma’am, and to spend time with my wife.”

“You will oversee the construction of a facility hidden in the countryside if you so wish to house those artifacts which cannot be destroyed. I will personally oversee your budget, but rest assured it will be a deep one.”

“It has been a most trying time, ma’am.” Those words as close as Nate dared skate to mentioning his incarceration.

Cara chewed her lip. A royal payroll would be nice since she still hunted her father’s scattered artifacts and if her research was accurate, there were objects far more dangerous than the Collar.

Victoria snorted. “Come Nathaniel, we have a long association. You are not one to indulge in the idle pastimes of the wealthy and neither is your wife. We cannot imagine either of you taking to gardening or fishing.”

He nodded his head. “Your Majesty is too generous and we will not fail you.”

“See that you don’t. We will not have these items loose in the world. They cause too much pain and grief.” Tears glistened anew in her eyes. Her gaze lowered while she regained her composure. “There is the outstanding matter of our dragon.”

“Lost, ma’am, in the depths of Siberia. Duke Nolton pursued the creature, so we let it loose rather than have it fall into his hands.” Nate never blinked, the half-truth rising easily to his lips.

Her gaze met Nate’s. Red rimmed the blue iris and gave an unsettling effect. Cara looked away to study the map covering the wall. Her heart pounded and she held her breath, praying the little dragons would remain hidden from the world.

“Very well. Find a suitable location to house the artifacts and report back to us.”

She dismissed them with a wave of her hand and Nate drew Cara from the royal presence.

Nate worked late in his study, the aethergram a constant tick to accompany the scratch of his pen over the ledgers. Cara stood behind and slid her arms around his torso, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m nearly finished here,” he said, tidying away the last of his paperwork. “My family country estate will meet Victoria’s requirements. It has a natural harbour and an extensive network of caves in the nearby cliffs.”

A smile played over her face at the mention of caves and sea access. “Let me guess, long ago, it was used for smuggling?”

He pulled on her arm, drawing her body around and onto his lap. The rare wolfish smile lit his face. “What do you mean
was
used for smuggling? It still returns a healthy profit for the region.” His hands slid around her waist. “I have something for you.”

He leaned down and pulled open the large bottom drawer and extracted a wooden box about eight inches square and secured with a cream ribbon.

“What is it?” Her curiosity jumped up and down, demanding immediate satisfaction. Christmas and her birthday were still a couple of weeks away and she hoped he wouldn’t make her wait.

“Open it and see.” He laid the package on her knees.

Her fingers pulled the cream silk bow loose and the ribbon tumbled away. She lifted the lid and peered inside.

“It’s a miniature dragon egg.” She gently freed it from the box. It appeared to be made of porcelain and had the same mottled oval surface as the dragon eggs. Grooves and furrows ran around the surface with the telltale red vein of a male egg. It was cool, though, whereas the others had been warm and living. Her fingertips found one groove that neatly encircled the middle of the egg. She held it up to the light of the fire and through the flames could see the outline of something within. She flicked a curious glance to Nate.

“It opens.” He laid his hands over hers and gave a tug. The egg separated into two halves on a hidden golden hinge. A tiny dragon rose up from its nest on a platform and spread gossamer thin wings.

“Oh.” Cara breathed in surprise and wonder. The creature was a perfect facsimile of little male they released into the forests of Siberia.

“I had it commissioned three months ago, and Sergei supplied the final drawings. Fabergé has taken over from his father and is quite taken with the idea of making eggs containing hidden surprises; he is making one for the tsar. Look closer at this one.”

Cara turned the creature in her hands, studying the way the master jeweller had carved the miniature dragon. Her eyes roamed over its powerful haunches, each iridescent scale unique in colour, hue, shape, or texture from its neighbours. The slender neck rose from the muscular body tapering to the triangular head. And between its jaws, it clutched the ring. The large emerald cut diamond set in platinum.

Her fingertip stroked the back of the facsimile dragon. “So much has happened in the last two months, it seems a lifetime since the little dragon dropped this into my palm.”

His hand stroked up her spine. “You never did give me an answer. I’m still waiting for your refusal.”

She raised her eyes to his. “You used a dragon to propose to me. What woman could refuse an offer from a mythical creature?”

“You’ll be my wife?” Hope flared in his crystal blue eyes.

“We’re already married and had a honeymoon in St. Petersburg, so yes. I will be your wife.”

He pulled her tighter against his chest, dipped his head, and his lips slid over her mouth to seal the deal.

A big shout out to Claire of Tanglefoot Lane Photography. I have an aversion to cameras and I defy anyone to find a photo of me in which I’m not hiding behind something. When Claire found out I planned to use a photo of my horse as my author photo she leapt into action and dragged me in front of the camera. Personally I think she didn’t do too bad a job with this old nag ;)

Thanks to my weird family who have adapted to a writer in their midst and who think it is perfectly normal to discuss the zombie apocalypse at dinner time. Or maybe writing was a secret ploy to get out of housework and cooking, although I’m sure my future daughters-in-law will be impressed with the skills my boys are learning! I have to say sorry to Thomas, my son and eleven year old writing buddy who will be gutted when he finds out I didn’t blow anything up (his favourite plot device).

This book would never have made it into your hands without the help of Chrystal, wonder editor, who dropped everything and managed to have her passes waiting in my inbox each morning. Matt is the most fantastic proof reader who stopped the Hellcat from having scones attached to the walls.

Finally, a thank you to Lisa, Eugene, and the CQ team for bringing this book to life and doing their behind the scenes witchery.