by Darcy Burke
“How can he be if Camelot is made up of descendants? Isn’t that what you told me? How can my father lead a group of which he can’t even be a member?”
Gideon’s ire didn’t fade, but her argument wasn’t bad. “I don’t know how he gained access. He fooled everyone, apparently.”
“So I’m a fool,” she said softly, looking away from him.
“No.” He stepped toward her, but she took a step back. He swallowed and worked to rein in his emotions. “You’re not a fool. You love your father. This has to be incredibly difficult. I remember how I felt when I learned my father had hurt my mother, that he’d flaunted his women in front of her and done countless despicable things.”
Her gaze flicked toward him, and he caught a bare flash of sympathy. “So we are both cursed with horrible fathers?”
“It seems that way.” His throat tightened. He felt as though he was losing her. Her father had been the most important person in her life forever. Why would she take Gideon’s word over his?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She didn’t look at him, and her voice sounded so small.
He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and soothe her pain. Which he had caused. Christ, he was as awful as he’d ever been. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, Daphne. I should have told you. But to reveal all of it…” She wouldn’t like him anymore. She’d pursue an annulment as quickly as she could.
And he wouldn’t blame her. But right now, he needed her to see their plan through to the end. “We don’t have much time. We need to get to dinner. Is the plan in place?” Or was she so upset with him that she hadn’t put the tonic in the ale? Worse, had she told her father everything?
She nodded. “Yes.” Then she looked at him, and there was a surprising ferocity in her gaze. “I committed to this plan, Gideon. I committed to you. I expect honesty.”
“And you shall have it,” he swore. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, that he must say to her, but now wasn’t the time. He didn’t want the stress of tonight hanging over them. He wanted to be alone with her without fear of interruption, and then he would bare his soul.
Then he expected she would leave. That would be the smart thing to do. He cocked up everything he touched. He ought to make Penn be the earl, because he’d likely fuck that up too.
Another wave of anguish crashed over him. He should tell her about that. And he would. He had committed fraud—it wasn’t just a convenient excuse—and she was entitled to know. Yes, he’d give her the means to leave. It was the least he could do.
“Daphne, I’m asking you to trust me tonight. When we’re away, I will tell you everything—and then you can decide if I’m worthy.”
There was that word again. It had crept out of the recesses of his mind and fallen from his lips. The thing he was expected to be and yet was certain he couldn’t.
She didn’t speak, but he could see that her mind was churning. Her gaze was dark with uncertainty, her face pale.
“Can you trust me?” he asked.
“I told you I committed to the plan,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she began to pull on her gloves.
It wasn’t really an answer, and Gideon realized he was going to have to do what he asked of her—he would trust her. There was nothing else he could do. Besides that, he wanted to. He needed to.
He fetched his gloves from the table near the door and pulled them on. His hands weren’t shaking, but there was a low thrum vibrating through him. Excitement, anticipation, anxiety, fear. He turned to wait for her.
Also hope.
She walked to his side and looked up at him. Her gaze had cleared, and there was a businesslike seriousness to her expression. “Let us conduct our deception. Remember, don’t drink the ale.”
Her use of the word deception told him how she felt about it. But she’d tainted the ale and was apparently prepared to see the plan through. Meaning she wouldn’t have told her father.
He hadn’t lost her yet, but the danger was real. He’d do everything in his power to hold on tight.
Chapter 17
Following a slightly subdued dinner since most of the guests from the medieval festival had left, those remaining gathered for port and sherry in the drawing room that adjoined the great hall. A few had drunk ale at dinner, and Gideon could already see the effects of the sleeping tonic starting to work. Several of them hid yawns behind their hands.
Gideon hoped the guards had imbibed plenty of the ale in their dining hall belowstairs. Just as he hoped Daphne had managed to ensure that the guards stationed outside and in the vault received their portions before they’d gone on duty.
She stood on the other side of the room with another woman, both sipping sherry. Daphne had also drunk two glasses of wine at dinner, and he wondered if there was a particular reason she was drinking more than normal. Such as being upset with him. Or preparing to deceive him by telling her father their plan.
He was being paranoid. Or not. He’d asked her to betray her father. And he wasn’t sure he’d blame her if she couldn’t.
After a while, several people excused themselves, leaving just a small group. To ensure that everyone had retired, especially Foliot, Gideon and Daphne would be the last to go up.
Gideon made small talk with one of the remaining gentlemen, but he soon started yawning as well. Then he excused himself, and a few minutes later, it was just Gideon, Daphne, and Foliot.
Foliot yawned, and Gideon wondered if he’d any ale. He hadn’t been seated close enough to Foliot—something else that had made him wary since Daphne had sat on her father’s right—to see.
“I suppose it’s a bit of an early night, then,” Foliot said. “Just as well, as I find I’m fatigued.” He kissed Daphne’s cheek. “Good night, dear.” Then he inclined his head toward Gideon. “Gideon.”
“Good night,” Gideon said.
As soon as he left, Daphne turned to Gideon. “Shall we go up?”
“Yes.” Gideon moved to touch her but decided not to.
They made their way upstairs in silence and, as soon as they got to their room, moved to change their clothing. Relief surged through Gideon. Apparently, she still meant to follow through with the plan.
Gideon didn’t change his waistcoat, so the keys to the vault remained secure. When he was dressed in his riding clothes, he fetched the cloak from beneath his pillow. He reached for the bedside table, where he’d stashed a pistol that afternoon. He’d managed to steal one from Foliot’s guardhouse where the weaponry used by his guards was stored. The pistol was primed, but Gideon hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He tucked it into his coat as Daphne emerged from the dressing chamber.
Garbed in a fetching dark purple riding ensemble, she was breathtakingly lovely. But then it didn’t matter what she wore or if she wore nothing at all—she was incomparable.
“I’m going now,” Gideon said, drawing the cloak around his shoulders.
She nodded. “I’ll wait here until I’m sure you’ve gained access.” They’d already planned that if for some reason the guard outside was still awake, Gideon would return immediately and they’d either come up with a plan to lure him away or Gideon would try to knock him unconscious. He preferred to find the man asleep. Things would be so much easier that way.
It seemed as though Gideon should say something else, but he couldn’t find the words to breach the tension between them. He would—tomorrow when they were away from here.
He pulled the hood up over his head. “Can you see me?”
“No.”
He turned and went to the door, and as he opened it, she said, “Be safe.”
She cared for him. Or she expected something bad was about to happen.
God, he’d be happy to have this night behind him.
He hurried down the stairs, slowing his pace as he neared the bottom. Two maids were in the great hall, cleaning. He kept his steps soft as he cut across the hall to the tapestry that covered the alcove leading to the vault. They didn
’t so much as look in his direction.
A mix of excitement and apprehension propelled him to move faster. He held his breath as he gently lifted the edge of the tapestry and slipped behind it. The guard was slumped on the floor in the corner. Gideon exhaled with relief as jubilation coursed through him.
He reached into his waistcoat and pulled out the keys. It took a few tries to match them with the right locks, but he was soon inside the vault. Opening the door slowly, he put his hand on his pistol in case the interior guard wasn’t asleep. After he’d surveyed the room and seen the second guard sprawled on the floor, Gideon’s shoulders relaxed.
After closing the door securely behind him, Gideon went to the chest and found the key that fit its lock. The lid creaked as he opened it. There, lying inside where he’d left them, were the Heart of Llanllwch and Dyrnwyn.
He picked up the heart and thought of Daphne. If he wished right now that she loved him, could he be sure that she’d stay by his side? He slid the stone into his coat pocket and drove the thought from his mind lest he cause something he couldn’t undo.
Next, he hefted the sword, still in its scabbard, and felt the familiar vibration. Pulling back the cloak, he slipped the weapon through a belt he’d donned beneath his coat. He let the cloak fall, rendering him invisible once more.
He closed the chest and locked it, then looked around the room. There were many treasures here—old manuscripts, Roman coins and artifacts, ancient pottery and jewelry, and weapons of iron and stone.
But Gideon had what he needed. It was time to go meet Daphne to deliver the keys, and she would return them to her father’s study.
Anticipating their easy escape, he hurried from the room and locked the door completely, making it appear as if it hadn’t ever been disturbed. If Foliot didn’t know the treasures were missing, it would hopefully give Gideon and Daphne time to travel far away from Ashridge Court. The guards likely wouldn’t want to tell their employer they’d fallen asleep at their posts. And Daphne had written a note explaining that she and Gideon were going to London to answer his writ of summons.
With a final look at the snoring guard, Gideon made his way to another alcove, this one behind the stairs. The great hall was now, thankfully, empty, but he reminded himself that no one could see him.
Daphne was there waiting as planned. He lowered the hood and handed her the keys, murmuring, “I have them.”
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She hesitated. “I wish that cloak worked for me so I could wear it upstairs.”
He didn’t want her to be nervous. Or afraid. “Do you want me to return the keys?”
“No, you don’t know how to trigger the drawer. And if you were seen opening doors, it would be a problem. I can explain my presence.”
He looked down at her costume. “In a riding habit at midnight?”
She frowned. “We didn’t think of that, did we? I’ll be quick.”
“You could also stop and don a dressing gown.” He should have thought of that earlier.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to take the time. I just want this to be over.”
He understood that. “I feel the same.” He wanted to kiss her—for luck as much as to comfort her and to show he cared.
But she turned and dashed toward the stairs.
Gideon paced impatiently, mentally following her path. As the minutes dragged, his apprehension mounted. What if her father was in his study? What if he’d discovered her there?
“You found the cloak.” Foliot’s voice hit Gideon like an arrow.
Gideon turned to see Daphne’s father emerging from a hidden door in the alcove and swore under his breath.
Foliot studied Gideon, his gaze trying to detect what he couldn’t see below Gideon’s head. “It’s astonishing. The heart and the sword are incredible, but this… This is unparalleled.” He lifted his eyes to deliver a pointed stare at Gideon. “So you plan to steal them all from the Order.”
“They don’t belong to the Order,” Gideon said, putting one hand on the hilt of Dyrnwyn and the other on his pistol.
Foliot’s lip curled. “You’re a thief regardless of who you’re taking them from.”
“Papa.”
Gideon turned his head to see Daphne standing just outside the alcove.
Foliot took a step forward. “Daphne, I’ve caught your husband stealing from me, but then I should have expected it. This is the second time he’s stolen Dyrnwyn from someone—the first being Cate Bowen.”
Daphne looked toward Gideon, her lips parting in surprise. “Is that true?”
Something else he should have told her—and planned to. “Yes. I took it from her for your father. Ask him.”
“That’s not true,” Foliot said calmly. “Daphne, I’m afraid you can’t trust anything this man says.” He looked at her sadly. “I understand why you felt you must help him. I’m so sorry. The heart has ruined everything.” He turned his attention to Gideon. “You have it with you, the heart? Release Daphne from its spell at least.”
Wait, did Foliot think that Daphne was only helping Gideon because of the heart? That would have been an interesting deduction if Gideon had actually used it. Was it possible it had partially worked? What if nothing between them had been real—at least on her part? What he felt had been absolutely true. As real as the dread gathering in his gut.
Gideon had been about to protest, to tell Foliot that he hadn’t used the heart. Instead, he pulled it from his pocket and met her gaze, saying, “I don’t want Daphne to love me.”
It was a lie. He did want her love. More than anything. The despair in his belly threatened to tear him in two.
“Very good, thank you.” Foliot pulled a pistol from his coat and pointed it at Gideon. “Now give it to me, along with the sword and the cloak.”
Gideon drew his own pistol and unsheathed Dyrnwyn. “I can’t do that.”
Daphne stepped forward. “Please, both of you, put your weapons away.” The anguish in her voice was torture for Gideon.
“Be careful, Daphne!” Foliot waved her back. “He’s a killer in addition to a thief. He shot Cate’s maid in pursuit of the sword and had her husband’s brother killed.”
His lies were unconscionable. Gideon nearly shot him on the spot. “Stop putting your crimes on me. I did neither of those things.”
“The men who were with you are here and will confirm it.” His gaze was ice-cold, and Gideon knew Foliot’s men would do whatever he said.
Gideon looked to Daphne. “I know he’s your father, and you love him, but he’s not the man you want him to be.”
Her eyes were dark with sadness and disappointment. “I’m not sure you’re the man I wanted you to be either.”
The knife in his chest twisted. “I told you I wasn’t.” His voice nearly broke. “I’m sorry, Daphne.”
“Hand her the treasures, Gideon.” Foliot cocked his pistol.
Gideon had no idea what Daphne meant to do, but he wanted to have faith in her. So he did. “I’m going to leave. Daphne, I hope you will come with me.”
Foliot lifted the gun an inch, pointing it at Gideon’s heart. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
“Papa, don’t.”
Gideon saw her move, and fear ripped through him. He raised Dyrnwyn, and its light filled the alcove. Foliot gasped. It was enough for Gideon to use the sword to knock the pistol from his hands. It fired as it hit the floor, and Gideon swung his gaze to Daphne to make sure she was all right.
Foliot lunged forward, but Gideon slashed the sword and drove him back.
Daphne grabbed her father’s arm. “Papa, please. He’ll kill you.”
Gideon froze for a moment, staring at her. She believed him—she believed Gideon was a killer. “I wouldn’t,” he croaked. But the evidence seemed to the contrary given his movements and the fact that the sword was flaming brighter than it ever had.
“Papa, let him go,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “He’s taking the treasures to Gareth. We�
�ll find him.”
And with that, Gideon at last knew her intent. Whether she’d been going to help him and had just changed her mind or she’d planned to betray him all along didn’t matter. The path had led them there. She’d chosen her father.
Gideon turned and fled.
Daphne spun into her father and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but his arms came around her, and he patted her back.
She cried harder. “Papa, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I loved him.”
“It’s all right, my girl. I’ll find him, and he’s the one who will be sorry.”
Pulling back, Daphne wiped her eyes. “I think the spell from the heart is broken.”
“It appears to be, and thank God for that. I never should have done any of this between you and Gideon.” Papa’s lip curled. “I suspected that he betrayed me once, and I was a fool for believing he hadn’t.”
No, Daphne was the fool. She’d never seen her father for the man he was. How could he look at her with such concern—and love, or at least what he thought love was supposed to be—after lying to her so effortlessly?
From being a descendant to not being in Camelot to accusing Gideon of horrible crimes, he’d done everything in his power to control everyone around him. He’d even tried to manipulate her into marrying Gideon. No, he hadn’t just tried. He’d been successful.
Her heart split in two when she thought of the anguish in Gideon’s eyes. He thought she’d chosen her father. Which was what she’d wanted him to believe. Because it was what she needed her father to believe. If Gideon was to achieve his objective, Daphne had to outmaneuver her father.
“We must go after him,” Papa said.
Daphne nodded and sniffed. “For the treasures.”
“Yes, we mustn’t let him hide them, but it sounds as if you may know where he’s going—where Gareth’s tomb is located.” Papa’s gaze was both hopeful and shrewd.
“I do,” she said with determination. “It’s on Bardsey Island.” The island off the northern coast of Wales was perhaps the final resting place of Merlin. Some stories indicated the Thirteen Treasures lay with him.