Wicked (29 page)

She lifted her chin. “I was thrown down those stairs.”

“What?”

She was sure that he hadn’t intentionally locked her wrists in such a vise.

“I heard whispering.”

“In the crypts? And where did you hear this whispering from?”

“All right, I did intend to go down. But I paused on the stairs.” She stopped speaking, studying his face. She did
believe him. She had seen truth in his eyes during his passionate speech in the forest.

And yet, she could have sworn that Hunter, too, had been passionate in his quest to save her.

She started to tell him that she was nearly certain she knew where to find the golden cobra, that piece which seemed to be drawing the murderer to acts of greater and greater recklessness. And she meant to tell him that the whispers she had heard had been threats against her life. But she didn’t have a chance.

“Camille, I’m taking you out of this castle.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. No one will know. I’ll bring you to stay with the sisters in the cottage.”

She jerked free from his hold. “With…your child?” she demanded.

He looked at her, frowning fiercely. “My child?”

“They’re raising your child for you, aren’t they? Well, they are lovely ladies but, no, I will not go and live out there with them, another responsibility that you ask of them!”

He glared at her for a moment, then turned away, toward his own room. She hesitated, then followed him.

“You have done nothing but play games and lie to me since I met you!” she cried.

“No, Camille, I have never lied to you.”

“You have just avoided telling me the truth.”

“You can’t stay here any longer,” he said. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

“Well, I won’t leave!”

He spun around, coming back to her. He groaned aloud, reaching out for her, pulling her against him.

“One more night!” he murmured.

And she lifted her chin to demand to know exactly what
that meant, but she found herself crushed against him, held…her mouth seized in a passion and fury that left no room for protest or denial. The tempest alive within her rose to meet the trembling fever in him. She dropped the towel and came into his arms, held him fiercely. His fingers slid into the sleek wetness of her hair and down the length of her back, cradling the naked curve of her rear, pressing her ever closer to him until he broke from her, studying her eyes, seeking words, shaking his head, kissing her again.

She drew away from him, eyes serious as she worked his jacket from his shoulders, pulled the perfect knot of his white tie, and worked industriously at the mother-of-pearl buttons on his vest and shirt. He let go of her, still studying her face intently as he eased his shoulders from the shirt and pulled her close again. She lowered her head for a moment, wondering if he knew that she was willing to risk her life to be with him, just to feel the muscled heat and vitality of him as she lay against him, just to feel him breathe. The rough-hewn touch of his palm found her chin, lifted it again, and his lips formed over hers with temperance guiding all that was leashed and desperate, with a tenderness joining fire and flame. And though she hungered against him, he was slow, kissing her lips, teasing her earlobes, pressing his mouth to her shoulders, her throat, and even those light provocative brushes of touch seemed to steal away what strength she had left. She ran her fingers down his back, teased along the spine, and slid her hands beneath the waist of the elegant black silk-lined trousers he wore, and at last found the buttons in front, sliding her hands beneath them, her touch insistent.

She could only tease so long, and his tenderness gave way to ardor and action. He caught her to him hard, his body angling, as he held a kiss while tossing aside a shoe,
and then the other. His trousers were shed, and she was pressed against the pulse of his erection, distantly thinking that it was she who was insane, and not caring in the least as he lifted her, as they fell upon the bed where she had so seldom slept, heedless of covers, pillows and all else. Their mouths traced wet paths upon one another’s bodies, met and melded again, tore away, until they were fused as their bodies were fused, and the madness of need and desire had locked them together as one. And as he moved, she knew how much she loved him, just what a fool she was, but that, yes, indeed, she would gladly risk her life for him, because he had managed to become her life, and it didn’t matter at that moment what was a lie and what was true, being there could be no truth such as this that they shared.

Yet that night, he didn’t stay.

When it seemed that the ceiling had become the sky and had burst into stars and that nothing in all the universe could be so passionate, so heated, he barely stayed within her, or beside her, but rose abruptly.

“Tomorrow, you go,” he said harshly.

And to her amazement, he walked away from her, returning to his own room, closing the hidden door between the rooms that he had opened.

Stunned, she stared upward, at what had become nothing more than a ceiling once again. Her flesh still burning, her heartbeat rampant….

At last, she sat up. She found the nightgown that Evelyn Prior had given her the first night and slipped into it, then stared at the picture of Nefertiti. Brian had once told her that if she had needed him, all she had to do was pull at the left side.

She hesitated, then went closer. And she set her hand upon it, opening the hidden doorway once again.

He wasn’t in his room, but in the second part of the master’s suite beyond, in a robe with his family insignia embroidered upon it. He sat at his desk, studying some notes, and he looked up at her as if she were an unwelcome stranger.

“I will not leave here,” she said. “Not when I have the answers.”

“No one has the answers,” he said harshly. “The police are now aware of what is going on. They are on to the sale of antiquities from England to buyers in other countries. They know that men have been murdered. It’s in their hands now.”

“But, I know—”

“Stop it! If you know anything, know this—you are in danger! You little fool, no matter what, you have to go where you shouldn’t. You could have been killed tonight. But you had to go into the darkness anyway, you had to delve into the dead!”

“I found what you couldn’t in a year’s time!” she told him angrily.

“Did you? Come to think of it, just how did you find the passage, the right grave marker?”

“I found it because I was locked in the crypts and had to get out. And whoever is plaguing your castle hadn’t quite gotten it lined up properly again!”

“That’s the point. You were locked in the crypts.”

“Didn’t you bring me into this for information, to use me as a catalyst?” she demanded.

He stared. “Yes. Precisely. And your use and function are no longer required.”

A rapping at the door startled them both.

Brian lifted a brow. She folded her arms over her chest, said, “We are engaged.”

“No. The engagement is broken. Good God, Camille, what did you think? You’re a commoner!”

The words were the cruelest blow she had ever received, though she had always been the one to deny the fact that he really intended marriage. Yet the concept of living with him, waking up beside him, sleeping with him nightly, had become part of the dream.

“Good Lord! Don’t look at me like that. The engagement is off. You’ll be well compensated,” he said curtly. “But you will no longer live in this castle!”

“Brian?” His name was called as the rapping on the door sounded again. Evelyn Prior.

“Brian, I’m sorry, but Ajax has been in my room. He’s going insane, though, scratching the door.”

Afraid of betraying any more emotion, Camille turned to flee. She didn’t do so fast enough. Or perhaps Brian was truly a callous beast and just didn’t care. He rose abruptly and threw open the door.

Ajax bounded in, raced to his master.

“Down, Ajax, down!” Brian said, gentling his words by scratching the great hound’s ears.

Evelyn was staring at Camille. Camille stared back. Then Ajax bounded at her. She wasn’t ready, and he nearly knocked her over.

“Oh, Brian, I’m so sorry,” Evelyn murmured.

“It’s all right, he’s here now. Let’s try to get some sleep tonight, for the love of God!” Brian said impatiently.

“Ah, yes. Sleep,” Evelyn murmured and departed.

“Why did you do that?” Camille cried, furious and near to tears. “Tristan is likely to call you out, you know!”

“You wouldn’t leave,” he said. “What was I to do? And don’t worry about Tristan. We’re not living in the Dark Ages. He can slap me in the face with a dozen white gloves, but you needn’t worry. I’ll do no ill to your guardian.”

She stood stock-still, staring at him shocked. In a second,
she would have turned and hurried away. But he groaned, coming to her, picking her up gently and taking her in his lap to sit before the hearth, as he had done before. He stroked her hair, shaking his head.

“I have to hide you away. I cannot risk your life.”

“It’s my choice—”

“No! This time, it is not your choice!”

“I believe,” she said, “that I know where the golden cobra is. Or, at least, I know where to look to find it.”

He drew back from her, studying her face. “Where?”

“They often bury mummies with amulets, actually in the wrappings,” she said.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “But for this golden cobra to be worth killing for, it can’t be such a small thing as an amulet.”

She shook her head. “I don’t really know what it is. And I’m not sure how anyone else would know, since it was certainly never catalogued. And if it had been taken out of the tomb with the other treasures, arranged in a design or with a purpose, someone would have seen it, and it would surely have been catalogued.”

“I’m lost. You’re saying that it’s probably not an amulet. Then…?”

“It’s a larger piece, but I do believe it’s in with the mummy.”

He shook his head. “The priest’s body has been unwrapped.”

“What about Hethre’s mummy? Is it here or at the museum?” she asked.

“Neither,” he said. “Not that we know about, anyway. Hethre’s mummy was never found—or never identified, at any rate.”

“Maybe it hasn’t been identified because those who buried her tried very hard to see that she wasn’t identified. The golden cobra might have been a powerful piece, not
just to keep away tomb robbers, but also, possibly, to protect the people.”

“From what?”

“From Hethre. The ancient Egyptians themselves might have been afraid of her power. And so she was interred without identification, yet with a talisman that would assure she did not come back to work her power against them.”

S
HE MUST HAVE SLEPT VERY HARD
when she finally did so, because it was a long time before the rapping sound woke her. For several seconds she lay in comfort, listening until the sound became annoying. Then she realized that it was coming from the door to her actual bedroom, and that she was sleeping in Brian’s room. And Brian was no longer beside her.

She leaped up, closed the hidden door, found a robe and called out that she’d be right there.

It was Corwin.

“I’m to take you to the woods, Miss Camille,” he told her.

“What?”

“I’m to pack you up and take you to the woods. To the sisters’ cottage,” he explained, growing a little impatient.

She tried to remain expressionless, as her heart sank. Everything in her denied what Corwin was saying. She had thought…he cared about her. And needed her! But he had never said that. And she felt like a fool, a cold wind seeming to sweep around her heart. He had spoken the truth. The simple truth. He was an earl. She was a commoner. He cared for her, certainly. But surely many such a man had entertained himself with a young commoner!

“To the woods.”

Corwin pulled out his pocket watch, studied the time. “An hour, Miss Camille?

She nodded, thinking. An hour! And she’d be packed off to the woods like…like an unwanted child.

Anger suddenly grew within her. So the Earl of Carlyle, whatever his motives, wanted her out of his castle. Fine.

“An hour will be fine, Corwin. What of Tristan and Ralph?”

“Sir Tristan has said that he will go where you go, and it doesn’t matter where that might be.”

“The cottage in the woods isn’t all that large, is it, Corwin?”

“Ah, Sir Tristan and his man will be fine. There’s a comfortable enough little spot in the barn, miss.”

“With the animals?”

“Oh, no, there are no animals! The sisters don’t need to be tending to animals, miss. They have a child to raise!”

No animals, no horses. Once she was out there, she’d be all but marooned.

“And what about Alex?” she asked.

“Miss Camille, he’s doing very well. Tomorrow we’ll see that he’s brought back to his home.”

“An hour,
then,
Corwin, thank you,” she said agreeably. And she closed the door, her mind racing. She had an hour. One hour. She hesitated only briefly.

She looked around the room. There was nothing to pack, of course. Everything here had been provided for her, and anyone who knew her would know that she would take nothing with her. But she would be expected to take a few things. The earl wasn’t seeing to it that she was brought home, he was having her taken to the cottage in the woods.

She threw open the door. “Corwin!”

He was only halfway down the hall and looked back.

“I…I’ll have to take some clothing, I’m afraid. Would you please find me a portmanteau or something, anything in which I can pack?”

He seemed very relieved and nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, Miss Camille. Right away.”

He returned quickly. And when he had done so, she washed and dressed with haste, threw a few things into the bag and scribbled a note to leave on the bed. Then she cracked the door open. She breathed a sigh of relief. The hall was empty.

B
RIAN KNOCKED AT THE DOOR
and waited. In a moment, he saw the eye that peered through the tiny hole, and then the door was opened.

“Well?” Sir John demanded.

“Word is out. Shelby made the announcement that you were dead, bitten by an asp. Whoever planted the snake in your flat is going to believe that you are gone. The papers are carrying the news of your demise. So we need only wait now and see what steps are taken next. Whoever is behind this might have taken a partial payment, and be growing desperate. During the dinner last evening, they were in the crypts. That’s nothing new—I know that someone has been getting in, despite the wall and gate, since there is a tunnel, just as my father suspected. But the entry has now been bricked in.” He paused. “And last night, someone threw Camille down the staircase.”

Sir John gasped, halfway rising. “Camille! My God, is the girl—”

“She is fine, Sir John. And I’m seeing to it that she’s taken somewhere safe, where whoever is up to all this will not make another attempt against her.”

“You’re quite certain?” He was agitated. “She’s there now?”

“She will be quite soon. And there are officers at the gate to the castle, as well.”

Brian had left without saying another word to her. She would have argued with him. He had instructed Corwin to see to it that she was taken to the sisters. And he’d told Corwin that she was to go—whether willingly, or bound and gagged and over his shoulder.

Sir John nodded. “What about Lacroisse?”

“I believe that the news of your death was frightening to him, but whether it was frightening enough for him to come to the police, or even to me, I don’t know. Men like Lacroisse can become obsessed. And naturally, he has his status in his own country to temper his actions.”

“Can’t you just…threaten him?” Sir John suggested hopefully.

“Yes. But I wanted him really frightened first. John, I still believe that you can help me. And you know that every word I’ve said has been the truth. I know that you didn’t want to believe that my parents were murdered, but if you can remember anything, anything about that day at all that you might not have said, I need to hear it.”

Sir John sighed, and indicated that they should take chairs in the rented room. “There is a police officer on the other side of the door, right?” he asked nervously. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did…I thought that I was prepared. I had my old war pistol in the drawer, ready, but I never saw the snake. If you hadn’t shot it…”

“Sir John, that is over. I need you to talk to me.”

“That day…” Sir John sat back, shaking his head. “Well, you know what happens after a discovery is made. Everything is slow, so slow and tedious! And yet everyone is excited. And there were so many treasures! Many pieces were slotted for the museum in Cairo, and your father paid a fantastic sum for those things he intended to take from the country, even more than was customary.”

“He was fair in all his dealings,” Brian said.

“Yes, a fine man to be a peer of England, a truly fine man. I miss him sorely.”

“Thank you. So do I. But, go on. Please go on.”

“Well, we had worked hard and almost everything was packed. We were to have a celebration dinner that night—late, of course, since we’d worked through the day and we were all in need of some thorough bathing, I can tell you!”

“Did you leave the site together?”

Sir John frowned, remembering. “No, Aubrey left first. He’d been doing the heavy work and he was exhausted, said he needed to lie down a bit. And then Alex. Alex has always been a bit fragile. He’d been ill, hadn’t worked much during the weeks before, and he still looked like hell, so he was anxious for some rest, as well. Hunter was right behind him. Lord Wimbly—oh, wait! It was Lord Wimbly who left first. He wanted to get a letter out, said it was most important. Evelyn and I stayed behind with your parents and our Egyptian colleagues until the last box was hauled away. Then we headed back together. We parted in the center of Cairo. Evelyn, of course, left with your parents and I went back to the hotel. They had taken an old palace, you know, converted just for English visitors, such as ourselves. And Evelyn was in the little caretaker’s cottage.” He shook his head. “You really should be speaking with Evelyn. She found them.”

“But you met in the restaurant for your celebration dinner, didn’t you?”

“Yes, all the rest of us. Then…then Evelyn arrived with some men from the embassy. Poor woman, she was devastated.”

“Hunter was with you, almost to the end?”

“Yes.”

“But he still left before you?”

Sir John lifted a hand. “Yes, yes, I’ve told you all this.”

“Who arrived at the restaurant first?”

“I did.” He grimaced. “I was quite hungry, and didn’t think that I’d be able to stay up much later!”

“And then?”

“Oh, Brian, it was a long time ago!”

“Please, Sir John.”

“All right. I was there, and then, let’s see…was it Aubrey who showed up first? Yes, yes, it was Aubrey. No! It was Alex. I remember now, because we were talking about his position at the museum. Then Aubrey, Hunter and Lord Wimbly. Lord Wimbly arrived last.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what good this is going to do you.”

“Think again. Who did you see the day you found the newspaper clipping on the desk?”

Sir John shook his head in disgust. “Aubrey was in. I’m not sure about the others. You were there that day, you know. And Camille, of course. And I—” He paused, looking troubled, then sighed. “I had refused to believe that anyone could have caused those deaths on purpose. But once Camille had been at Carlyle and she seemed to believe you, I began to realize that I had been suspicious all along.”

“But of
whom,
Sir John?”

Though his life had nearly been forfeit, Sir John hesitated. “Well, there were a couple of things,” he said.

“Whatever your thoughts, I’m begging you, tell me.”

“But I could be wrong!”

“Yes, but if you give me your thinking…”

“I believe that Lord Wimbly was in debt to someone. Serious debt. Yet, of course that’s ridiculous! He’s
Lord
Wimbly.”

“Yes, he is in debt,” Brian agreed.

“But Lord Wimbly loathes snakes of any kind,” Sir
John said. “That’s just it. There’s only one man I know who can really handle them.”

“Aubrey Sizemore.”

Sir John nodded.

M
IRACULOUSLY,
C
AMILLE WAS ABLE
to slip along the hall, down the stairs and through the ballroom without seeing another soul. She had seriously feared a run-in with Evelyn, but the woman hadn’t been about. In fact, the great castle seemed entirely deserted.

From the ballroom she entered the chapel, and from there, the crypts. The stairs were dark. Whatever work Shelby and Corwin had done, thankfully, they had completed last night. She was proud to have had the foresight to remember a lamp, and with it, she traveled down the winding steps easily. Once there, she knew that she could be caught by any member of the household at any time, so she moved quickly. And as quietly as she could. But there were so many cartons!

There was nothing else to do but start opening the lids one by one. That wasn’t at all difficult; she was certain that Brian had been through everything here. At least ten of the large cartons held mummies. All she had to do then…was unwrap every single one, which would make many an Egyptologist shudder in horror. But present lives were worth more than history, she decided.

And so she began, probing, pulling and sneezing at the ancient dust and decay. She could have eliminated male mummies, but there didn’t seem to be any. Instead, she had come upon most of the high priest’s harem, she was certain.

She lifted her locket watch, checking the time. Her hour was nearly gone. They would be looking for her soon. Hopefully, they would believe the note.

Three mummies to go, and then it wouldn’t matter. It
would mean that Hethre’s mummy was at the museum, and she would somehow make someone listen to her enough that she could find the cobra—and stop the search.

She hesitated. Her discovery wouldn’t expose the killer, but it would stop the attempted theft, and possibly more murders.

T
HE CARRIAGE RATTLED
through the streets and at last arrived at Lord Wimbly’s town house. Determined to accost him then and there, Brian left Shelby with the carriage, and pounded on the door.

Lord Wimbly’s valet, Jacques, answered. He looked at Brian with suspicion, but he had been impeccably trained for his role as the great Lord Wimbly’s man’s man.

“Lord Stirling. Lord Wimbly is resting, I’m afraid. Did you have an appointment?”

“No.”

Brian stepped forward, forcing the man to let him in.

“Dear me! Lord Stirling, I’ve told you. Lord Wimbly has not arisen from his private chambers! He has not rung for me once this morning.”

Brian hesitated only a moment, then started for the stairs.

“Lord Stirling!” Jacques cried in dismay, racing after him.

“Get back!” Brian warned, throwing the door open.

As he had feared, Lord Wimbly lay on the floor. Brian strode across the room, watching his step. Behind him, Jacques let out a shrill cry.

“Stop it!” Brian commanded, stooping down to feel for a pulse. But Lord Wimbly’s heart had long since ceased to beat. His eyes were open, and the bell he might have used to summon Jacques had fallen, just inches from his reach.

He had been dead for hours. Brian meticulously examined the body, then rose.

Jacques started to scream again. “The curse! Oh, my
God, the curse. An asp! He was bitten by an asp! Oh, good God, there are cobras here, snakes in the house. I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to get out, I’ve—”

“Jacques! Stop it!” Brian said again, and he took the man by the shoulders, shaking him. “He didn’t die by an asp bite. I assure you, I would have found the marks. The way his mouth gapes open and he lies so contorted, I think we might be looking at a very different kind of poison. Get the police. Quickly. Do you hear me? Get through to a Detective Clancy with the Metropolitan police. This may appear at first to be a heart attack, brought on by his age. But there must be an autopsy. He was murdered.”

“Murdered! Oh, God! Murdered. But I’ve been in the house all the time, ever since he returned last night! No one has come in, Lord Stirling, no one. Oh, my God! Lord Wimbly is dead! I…oh! I was here. They’ll think that I…oh, I would never! What will I do now? What will the police think? What will they do? They’ll arrest me! It’s the curse! He should have stayed out of Egypt!”

“He was dead before he came home, he just didn’t know it,” Brian said. “The police are not going to arrest you. And I’ve got to go now. Do as I say, Jacques. Do it now!”

Brian ran down the stairs and out the door. He knew exactly who had been doing the killing and why. And he had to move fast.