by Candace Camp
Kyria smiled faintly. “Yes, but jewels and dresses are not exactly serious. Not like science, say, or the treatment of workers or the vote for women.”
“Ah, I see. Like the things that some of your family are involved in.”
Kyria nodded. “I fear my mother sometimes finds me rather shallow. Thisbe looks for great discoveries. Theo explores uncharted territories.” She shrugged. “I design necklaces and earrings.”
“Do you really?”
Kyria nodded. “I designed the pearl necklace Olivia wore today. It was made from an old necklace that had been in the family for generations, but it was much too old-fashioned to wear. So I had the pearls reset.”
“I noticed it,” Rafe said. “I thought it was beautiful. You are very talented.”
Kyria smiled, a blush staining her cheeks. “I’m not really. It’s just something I dabble in. There is a jeweler in London who does all the work for me.”
“But the design was lovely to begin with. He could not have done the work without your idea.”
Kyria had received compliments before on her jewelry, but rarely had she admitted to anyone outside her family that she had designed a piece. Society, she knew, would have found it another oddity in her, no matter how attractive they thought the jewelry was. Jewelry-making was not a suitable occupation for a member of the nobility. In fact, society found no occupation suitable for a noblewoman. And while her family always praised the pieces she had made, she felt sure, deep down, that they considered it pretty, but not important in the way that the matters that occupied other members of her family were important.
She was faintly surprised that she had told Rafe about her hobby, and she suspected that she probably would not have if her nerves had not been shaken by what had happened. She was also a little surprised that it pleased her so that Rafe liked her work. She was accustomed to men complimenting her looks, but not something she had done.
“I designed the necklace for myself originally,” she went on. “But then I realized that it would suit Olivia much better. The pearls have such a soft luster, and they are, of course, perfect for a wedding.”
Rafe smiled, and his eyes drifted over Kyria’s face. “You are right. Pearls would not suit you. Not brilliant enough. You are a woman for diamonds.” He reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Or maybe emeralds to match your eyes.”
A shiver ran through Kyria at the touch of his skin on hers. She looked up at him, her face only inches from his. She gazed into his eyes, unable to look away, aware of her breath coming faster in her throat. She could feel the heat of his body. She remembered the feel of his shirt beneath her cheek, the warmth and comfort as his arms enfolded her. But the warmth she was feeling now had little to do with comfort.
He wanted to kiss her now, she knew. Kyria had dealt with men trying to steal kisses from her before. She was adept at stepping back or turning her cheek, making a light remark that changed the moment. But she made no move to do any of those things, simply stood gazing up at Rafe, feeling her blood move with sudden heat through her veins. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his lips on hers with an excitement that fizzed along her nerves like champagne.
His hands went to her arms, first wrapping lightly around her wrists, then sliding slowly up her arms. She shivered again at the feel of his hands, faintly roughened, gliding over her soft flesh. His hands reached her shoulders and tightened, pulling her into him as he bent toward her. Kyria knew she should have protested, should have drawn back, but she did not. She let him draw her to him, turning her face up to his.
His mouth settled on hers, slow and soft, his lips moving against hers with an increasing urgency. Kyria’s heart slammed in her chest. She had been kissed a few times by eager suitors, but never before had it felt like this. Never before had she wanted to press against him as she did now, nor had her hands slid up to his chest and dug into his lapels, holding on under the onslaught of pleasure.
He made a noise deep in his throat as she leaned into him, and his arms slipped around her, pulling her tightly against his rock-hard body. She felt the strength of his muscles through their clothes, their bodies locked together all the way up and down. She slid her arms up and around his neck, holding on tightly as his mouth took hers.
“Kyria!” Her father’s voice sounded down the hall, calling her.
Kyria stiffened and stepped abruptly back. Rafe’s arms opened, letting her go, and for an instant they simply stood staring at each other, shocked by the intensity of what they had just experienced. Kyria drew a shaky breath and turned away, her hands going to her burning cheeks.
“Kyria? Are you down this way?” The duke’s voice came again as his footsteps rang down the hall.
Kyria cleared her throat and said, “Yes, Papa. I’m in here.”
She reached up to pat her hair, hoping that she did not look as stunned and flushed as she felt. She started toward the door just as her father stopped at the door and peered into the room.
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” he said, smiling benignly and stepping into the room. “Smeggars said he thought you went this way. Your mother sent me. She said to tell you to come help Olivia. She’s gone up to change into her traveling clothes. What are you—Oh!”
He stopped, his eye caught by the small white box on the table. He approached it, intrigued, and picked it up carefully. “I say—what a beautiful artifact! Where did you get it? Byzantine, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Kyria asked, as she and Rafe moved to where the duke stood admiring the ivory box.
“Oh, yes, I think so. Not my specialty, of course.” He turned toward Rafe, saying in explanation, “I am much fonder of the earlier Roman Empire, you know, and even earlier—the Greek, Etruscan, Cretan. I don’t really know a great deal about the later empire. But I would definitely say that it looks like Byzantine work.”
He ran his finger over the rounded top, easily distracted from his mission, as he always was by any ancient object. “This style, like a humpbacked trunk, is typical of the Byzantines, as is the carved ivory. Not as beautiful as their cloisonné work, in my opinion, which was really quite phenomenal, given the times. I would hazard a guess that this was done before the height of their art. This glass is unusual, though. Typically, they used carnelian and turquoise.”
“I don’t think it is glass, Papa. I believe it is a black diamond, just unfaceted.”
“Really?” He looked up from the box, surprised. “Black diamond, eh? Never seen one.”
“Neither have I,” Rafe told him. “But your daughter seems to know her jewels.”
“Oh, my, yes.” Broughton chuckled and cast a glance of affection at his daughter. “That’s my Kyria. Well, well, my dear, this is very interesting. I would say it is quite a special piece, given the intricacy of the carving and the rarity of the jewel. Of course, they wouldn’t have been able to facet it back then.” He pushed at the top of the box. “That’s odd.”
“What is?” Kyria asked.
“I thought it would open,” her father replied. “It certainly looks like a box, but it doesn’t seem to have a lid, or at least, one that will open.”
“Really?” Kyria took the box and examined it closely. “I can’t see any line of separation, but with all this carving, it could easily be hidden.”
“Surely it’s not solid,” Rafe put in. “It doesn’t seem heavy enough.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” the duke agreed. “It must open. There must be some hidden catch or something.”
“Is that typical of Byzantine artifacts?” Rafe asked.
Broughton shrugged. “Frankly, dear chap, I don’t know. You would need an expert in the field. Someone like Dr. Jennings or…who else? Dr. Atkinson. Early Eastern religious art is one of his specialties, if I remember correctly. Perhaps Uncle Bellard knows someone else.”
“How old are we talking about here?” Rafe asked. “If I remember my history correctly, the Byzantine Empire was during the time of Constantine and Jus
tinian. Am I right?”
The duke nodded. “Yes, I would say sometime after A.D. 500 and before the Turks, say, 1400 or so. I’d lean toward the earlier time rather than the later, say, before A.D. 1000. Of course, you would have to talk to an expert in the field. How did you come by it, Kyria? I had no idea you had an interest in artifacts.”
“I don’t. I mean, I think it’s beautiful, but I don’t know anything about it. I had no idea how old it was or where it came from until you told me just now,” Kyria replied. “I don’t know where it came from. A man came to the house tonight. Papa, it was awful. He was attacked as he approached the house, and he was killed.”
“Killed!” Broughton exclaimed, staring at Kyria, then turning toward Rafe.
“I saw it happen,” Rafe told him. “I chased the attacker off and brought the man inside, but he died soon thereafter.”
“Sweet heaven! What a shocking thing!”
“I told Smeggars not to tell anyone about it,” Kyria explained. “I don’t want Olivia and Stephen to know. I don’t want anything to spoil Olivia’s wedding day.”
“No, of course not. You’re quite right, my dear.” The duke set the box on the table, then sat on the nearest chair. “This is terrible. Who was he? And what does he have to do with this box?”
“The man had it on him,” Rafe explained. “He was carrying it in a bag that he had tied around his waist. Obviously, it was very important to him. And apparently he was bringing it to Lady Kyria.”
“Kyria! But why?”
“I don’t know.” Rafe told him the man’s dying words. “I assume that he must have been coming here to deliver that box to her.”
“But who would send you something like that, Kyria? Why?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The only thing I can think is that it is from Theo.”
“Theo! Well, I suppose that would make some sense,” her father agreed.
Kyria turned to Rafe. “Theo is my oldest brother, Thisbe’s twin. He travels all over the world, and he often sends presents home, particularly for Con and Alex. With them, it’s usually exotic animals, but he has sent other things that caught his eye—some piece of native art or a gem or something. He sent Mother a lovely paisley shawl from India, and he sent Reed that abacus, you remember, Papa?”
The duke nodded vaguely. “Yes. Although I wouldn’t have thought that he would have sent something so ancient. He and I had rather an argument about that the last time he was here, you know. He had become quite adamant about a country’s ancient treasures remaining in that country rather than being taken abroad for study. Of course, I am against the practice of destroying ancient sites to remove the treasures to sell. But on the other hand, one cannot simply stand by and watch those artifacts turn into rubble, can one? Inattention, lack of care, lack of money…” The duke frowned, his face reddening as he recalled the argument.
“I am sure Theo agrees with that,” Kyria said soothingly. “He would not want to see anything bad happen to an ancient treasure. Perhaps that was the case with this one. Maybe that is why he sent it here.”
“Sir, I don’t want to interfere here,” Rafe began, “but I can’t help remembering how that box got here. That the fellow carrying it was attacked and killed. His attacker bent over him after he stabbed him, and he didn’t run away until he saw me running at him. I can’t help but wonder if he wasn’t after that box. If maybe that box is the reason he killed him.”
Kyria nodded worriedly. Broughton stared at Rafe, horrified. Clearly his interest in the ancient object had pushed other considerations out of his head.
“Are you saying…do you think there is a danger of him trying to steal it?”
“I think there could be a danger, sir, to whomever has possession of that box,” Rafe replied flatly, and his eyes went to Kyria.
CHAPTER 5
The duke drew in his breath in a sharp gasp. “To Kyria? You think that this puts Kyria in danger?”
Kyria shot Rafe an irritated look and turned to her father. “No, Papa, I am sure that I’m not in any danger. Mr. McIntyre is just raising a possibility. We have no way of knowing that that was why that man was stabbed. It could have been a private argument between them. Or he could have just been a robber in general, not after that box in particular. Perhaps he simply saw the man walking and thought he would be a vulnerable target. Isn’t that right, Mr. McIntyre?”
Kyria turned back to Rafe with a significant look. Rafe looked back at her blandly.
“No point in taking any chances,” he replied. “I’m just suggesting that we ought to take precautions. We don’t know exactly what that box is or how much it’s worth, or even for sure why that man was bringing it to you. But given how old you say it is and given that whopper of a diamond on it, I would say it’s something somebody might want to steal. And whoever killed the man who delivered it could have knowledge of the box, and that could have been the reason he attacked him. If so, then he knows that that thing is now inside this house. I’m not saying that he knows that Kyria has it or that he would try to harm her to get it, but I can’t help but think that this thing would be a lot safer if you locked it up in a secure place.”
“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right,” her father said. “You mustn’t take it to your room, Kyria. Perhaps I could lock it in my collections room. The cases all have locks, and the room itself has a very stout lock on the door.”
“And there are bars on the windows,” Kyria added. “It gives the house a certain prisonlike appearance.”
Rafe grinned. “I saw that the other day from the garden. I wondered if you had some mad relative locked up there.”
“No. Only Papa,” Kyria said, linking her arm affectionately through her father’s. “I agree with you, Papa. I think it would be safest to put the box in your collections room. The diamond alone is valuable, let alone the value of the box.”
The duke patted her arm. “Very well, my dear.” He picked up the box, saying, “I shall take this right to the collections room, and then we must join the others.”
“And we aren’t going to say anything about all this to the others tonight,” Kyria reminded him.
“Oh, no, you’re right. Well, I must tell your mother, of course, but I will wait until after Olivia and Stephen leave. And Reed. I am sure he will want to deal with the constable.” He frowned. “Perhaps we had better have a family meeting about the matter tomorrow. It really is most distressing.”
* * *
Olivia was standing in the middle of her room with Thisbe and the duchess when Kyria hurried in. She was already dressed for her honeymoon in a brown traveling dress, rather plain—which was how she liked her clothes—but trimmed with elegant gold buttons down the front of the jacket and cut to show off her excellent figure. She turned when Kyria entered the room. Her cheeks were high with color and her eyes sparkling with excitement. She looked lovelier and happier than Kyria had ever seen her, reinforcing Kyria’s determination not to let anything spoil Olivia’s day.
“Kyria!” Olivia cried, holding out her arms. “Where have you been? I’m almost ready.”
“Dearest, I’m sorry.” Putting on her brightest smile, Kyria hurried across the room to hug her sister and kiss her cheek. “I was talking to Smeggars about the food.” Kyria knew that the best way to stop any curious questions from either of her sisters or mother was to bring up domestic arrangements.
“Oh.” Olivia waved away Kyria’s explanation. “Well, you are here now.” She stepped back and executed a little pirouette for Kyria’s inspection. “You were right about the traveling dress. It’s perfect.”
“It is,” Kyria agreed, forbearing to mention the struggle involved in getting her sister to agree that the large buttons and tight-waisted jacket were not too outlandish.
“You look beautiful,” their mother declared, coming over to kiss Olivia on the cheek. “All my daughters are beautiful. Inside and out,” she added, with a smile for Kyria and Thisbe. “Come now. We must let Olivia
leave.”
Kyria, glancing at her mother, was astonished to see the glint of tears in her eyes before the duchess turned away. Thisbe, on the other hand, was unashamedly wiping tears from her cheeks. Kyria felt a lump rising in her own throat and swallowed hard. Picking up Olivia’s matching reticule, she handed the little bag to her sister and swept her out of the room.
Outside, Stephen and his bride stepped into the ducal carriage, their well-wishers pouring out of the house to send them on their way. Kyria, smiling and waving to her sister as the carriage pulled away, could not help but steal a glance down the driveway and wonder where exactly the dark stranger had been when he was attacked. She shivered, imagining the scene.
“Cold?” a man asked softly behind her, and she turned to see Rafe McIntyre standing close to her. He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, bare in her elegant evening gown.
“Thank you.” Kyria wrapped the jacket tightly around her, immediately warmed. “Where…where was it?”
“Down yonder.” He pointed to where the line of trees ended, just as the drive started to curve as it drew in front of the house.
Kyria watched as the carriage moved toward the place where Rafe had pointed and could not help a little sigh of relief when it passed safely. She had not really expected a crazed attacker to leap out of the trees at the newlyweds, but she could not keep from being a trifle edgy.
“It’s so sad,” she said with a sigh. “I cannot help but think of that poor man.”
All around them people were going back into the house to continue the party. It seemed terribly macabre to think of them dancing and laughing, having fun, when a man had died downstairs.
“It doesn’t seem kind to tell them,” Rafe said, as if he had read her thoughts. “It had nothing to do with them.”
“I know. You’re right. Better to let them enjoy the evening.” Kyria turned to him. “However, I find it a little hard to pretend that there is nothing wrong. I believe I will plead a headache and retire early this evening.”