by Monica Burns
“I’m sorry, Jamie. I didn’t mean to tell him.” Regret filled his niece’s voice, and Lucien shook his head.
“Never mind, Imogene. It doesn’t matter, because your days of playing in the labyrinth are over. If I find either of you have entered these passages again, the consequences will be severe, is that understood?”
“But, my lord—”
“My word is final in this matter. Is that clear?” He directed a stern look at first Imogene and then Jamie.
“Yes, Uncle Lucien.”
“Yes, my lord.” Jamie’s response was sullen compared to Imogene’s obedient tone of voice. Controlling his amusement, Lucien nodded.
“Good.” He looked down at the map again. “Now then, Westbury, I want you to show me where the labyrinth entrance is here in the library.”
“Oh, all right.” With sigh of disgust, the boy shrugged and bobbed his head in the direction of the narrowest section of bookshelves in the library. “It’s over here.”
Leading the way, Jamie walked to the far corner of the room and got down on his knees to reach under the bottom shelf. It was clearly a stretch for the boy, and Lucien was about to offer assistance when he heard a small click. Smooth and silent on its hinges, the bookshelf swung wide to reveal a dark passage. Exhilaration lanced through him as he stared into the dark entrance. It really did exist.
Imogene grabbed his hand and tried to pull him toward the opening. “Come on, Uncle Lucien, there are lots of different passages, and we can get to the other side of the keep a lot quicker than the usual way.”
“No, Imogene. I meant what I said. Neither of you are allowed to enter the labyrinth again. Is that understood?” Disappointment turned their mouths downward, but they both nodded. Satisfied they would obey him, he smiled. “Weren’t you going to ask Cook if she had some strawberries for your mother, Westbury? If she does, I’m certain there will be enough for you and Imogene as well.”
The possibility of strawberries for himself as well as his mother erased the boy’s disappointment as Jamie grabbed Imogene’s hand and dragged her out of the library at a dead run. The moment they disappeared, Lucien quickly crossed the room to the fireplace and retrieved one of the candles on the mantle. Lighting it, he entered the dark passage hidden behind the library wall.
A sudden gust of air blew out the candle, and he muttered an oath. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw small pinpoints of light pouring through the walls from the library bookshelves. Whoever had built these passages had deliberately provided a source of light for anyone using the hidden corridors. Although it was still quite dark without the candle, it was possible to see several feet in front of him.
The excitement stirring in his blood created a familiar rush of exhilaration. It was the same feeling he got every time he found a new excavation site. But this time it was different. This was where his grandfather had supposedly hidden the Seth figurine. The narrow passage he was in suddenly became a set of stone stairs. He climbed upward until the corridor leveled out again. Ahead of him, he could make out a bright point of light.
The passageway opened up into a cross section and sunlight streamed in from the circular opening in the roof above. The engineering feat to light the labyrinth was unlike anything he’d ever encountered in all his excavation work in Egypt. The architect had been brilliant in his use of natural light to make it easy to find one’s way through the corridors without candlelight. Even during the nighttime there would be enough outside light filtered in to help someone see where they were going.
Pulling Jamie’s map from his coat pocket, he held it under the light. Once again he marveled at the detail and complexity of the boy’s work. From where he was standing, Constance’s bedroom was straight ahead, while the passage on his left led to the South Tower. The other passage wasn’t shown on the map, and he interpreted that to mean Jamie and Imogene hadn’t explored the labyrinth in this direction.
A soft noise echoed in the passage leading to Constance’s room, and he cocked his head in an attempt to hear better. When the sound didn’t repeat itself, he returned his attention to the map. He frowned slightly as he studied the unfinished map. Based on his knowledge of the keep, the unmapped corridors of the labyrinth either simply ended or pointed toward the North Tower.
Peering more closely at the map in the dim light, he grunted softly. That was odd. Why had Jamie drawn the corridor to end at that point? Puzzled, he tilted the paper at a different angle in an effort to see what Jamie had written on the map. Inhaling a sharp breath, he never had the chance to utter his oath.
The sack over his head didn’t just blind him, it disoriented him as well. The map slipped from his hands as he tried to remove the hood from his head. A moment later something lashed around his neck, cutting off his air.
Instinct forced him to kick his right foot up and back to hook around his attacker’s leg. It took only a slight tug of his leg to knock his assailant off balance. As his opponent tumbled to the floor with a thud, Lucien staggered forward and jerked at the cord wrapped around his neck.
His throat no longer constricted and closed off, he choked in deep breaths of stale air. A muttered oath behind him said he wasn’t out of danger yet, and he didn’t dwell on the finer points of breathing. If he didn’t get this hood off, he’d find it difficult to get out of this situation alive. Even blind, he knew better than to keep his back to the man and he whirled around as his opponent scrambled to his feet.
The blow to his stomach forced a loud grunt out of him as he doubled over in pain. Damnation. He’d not been kicked that hard since his days fighting at Eton. It was time he taught this bastard a lesson. But first, he needed to know where the man was. With one last vicious tug, he yanked the hood off his head and came upright.
He blinked as cool air brushed over his face and he tried to get his bearings. His hesitation kept him from avoiding the shadowy figure rushing at him. Large hands plowed into his mid-section and shoved him backward. Too late, he realized he was at the top of the stairs leading down to the library. As he plunged down the stone stairs, his shout reverberated off the stone walls until his head hit sandstone and he lost consciousness.
The subtle scent of jasmine brushed across his senses as he awoke to a dull throb in his forehead. Bloody hell. The last time his head had hurt this bad, he’d been out the night before drinking and brawling with the Viscount Wiltham. With a grimace, he raised his fingers to touch the painful area. He’d barely touched the spot before someone gently slapped his hand aside. Opening his eyes, he stared up into Constance’s worried features. The moment her eyes met his, a sigh of relief escaped her.
“How do you feel?” she asked softly. The mattress gave way as she sat next to him and gently applied a cool compress to his forehead.
“As if I’ve been in a brawl.” Wincing, he pushed himself into an upright position despite her protests. In the next instant, he was forced to flop back down onto the mattress to quiet his churning stomach. The room was spinning violently, and he closed his eyes to stop the sensation.
Warm fingers grasped his hand.
“You look as if you’ve been in one, too.” The light note of brevity in her voice made him open his eyes to glare at her. She smiled and reached for a glass of milk. “Here, take a sip of this. Cook promises it will help ease any headache you have.”
She slipped her arm under his shoulders to help him sit up. Someone had removed his jacket, and the warmth of her seeped through his shirt into his skin. God, he ached all over, and yet her touch made him long for one more night with her. He quickly swallowed the milk, then pulled away from her to alleviate the sensations she’d aroused. Even the cold milk couldn’t douse the fire her presence had ignited in him. Lying back against the pillows once more, he closed his eyes as the throbbing in his head took center stage again. Bloody hell, he was lucky to be alive. How he’d managed to fall down those stone steps without
breaking his neck was a miracle. Even the children might have— With a grunt of pain, he lurched upright in bed.
“Imogene, Jamie. Where are they?” he growled.
“They’re perfectly fine. They’re in the nursery having tea.” A sigh of exasperation parted her lips as she pushed him back into the mattress.
“I told them they’re not to go into the labyrinth,” he muttered with soft groan of pain. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I doubt they’ll be interested in exploring the tunnels anytime soon. They were the ones who found you. Jamie forgot his drawing pencil and came back to the library. When he and Imogene found you they were quite distraught.”
The sharp tap of a cane on the floor drew his attention as his grandmother entered the room. As regal as ever, Aurora stared at him down the line of her sharp nose. The strain on her elderly features worried him. He should never have gone into the labyrinth alone. It had been a stupid thing to do—something he would never have done on one of his digs.
“Well, boy. What have you to say for yourself?” Pinned beneath her formidable glare, he grimaced.
“I’m fine, grandmother. Thank you.” The irony in his voice wasn’t missed by Lady Lyndham, who sent her cane tip crashing against the floor.
“Don’t get cheeky with me, boy. I’ve known you to do nonsensical things in the past, but never when it comes to your safety.”
“Agreed,” he muttered. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“When Jamie told us about the hood he found beside you…” Constance’s voice quavered slightly as his gaze shifted to look at her. “Someone tried to kill you, Lucien.”
“But they didn’t succeed.”
“Not this time they didn’t,” Aurora snapped fiercely. She tapped her cane against the floor for emphasis. “What the devil is going on here, Lucien? The entire keep is in an uproar over what happened to first Constance and now you.”
“Then there will continue to be an uproar, Grandmother. If I knew what was going on, I’d be happy to tell you. As it is, I have a much larger problem on my hands at the moment.”
Closing his eyes, he remembered the sense of helplessness he’d experienced as he’d tumbled down the stairwell. At that moment, he’d realized he wouldn’t be able to protect Constance if he didn’t live. Worse yet, someone was in his home, uninvited. They’d tried to kill him, and for all he knew they might try to harm those he loved.
“Well, boy, are you going to enlighten us as to your problem?” His grandmother’s voice was sharp with exasperation, but there was fear there as well.
“Someone knows how to get into the labyrinth from outside the keep,” he said grimly.
Chapter Fifteen
His quiet words hovered in the air for a long moment, as the two women simply stared at him in stunned silence. Their expressions reflected the way he felt. It was an unsettling feeling to know that someone could enter the keep without detection.
“How is that possible?” Aurora demanded.
“Jamie’s map shows a corridor that ends near the foot of the North Tower. I believe we’ll find a door there leading into the orchards.”
“Jamie’s map?” Horror filled Constance’s voice.
“Your son is quite industrious, yâ sabāha. He mapped out his explorations of the labyrinth in great detail.” He grunted as Constance gently applied another cool compress to his forehead. “I can only assume my assailant now has the lad’s map.”
“Then if the door is where you think it is, we’ll find it and seal it off.” Aurora said in an imperial tone.
“Whoever discovered the labyrinth most likely knows all its secrets by now, Grandmother. I can’t believe there’s only one outside entrance.”
The unsettled expression crossing his grandmother’s face made him heave a sigh. Aurora wouldn’t take kindly to his reasoning as to why someone was exploring the labyrinth. But there could be no other explanation for someone finding the labyrinth and keeping it a secret.
“Someone is moving about the keep undetected and whenever they please. That, I will not allow.”
“You think he’s after the statuette, don’t you?” Constance met his gaze steadily. “Standish, that is.”
Odd how she’d added the remark about Standish. Almost as if she was thinking of someone else. Trying to sit up, he nodded with a grimace. His movements immediately propelled Constance forward, and she pushed him back into the pillows. The action forced a grunt of annoyance from him, but she simply glared at him in return.
“Yes, I think it’s Standish, but without my half of the map to Sefu’s tomb and the Isis statuette in my possession, the Seth figurine is useless to him. Odd though, that he’s not tried to steal the Isis statue.”
“That cursed statuette again,” Aurora bit out angrily. “If it’s in the labyrinth, then I say let him have the damned thing. It’s brought nothing but pain and sorrow to the Blakemores.”
Lucien closed his eyes at the anger and pain woven through his grandmother’s words. Perhaps she was right. Maybe he should find the damned thing and just hand it all over to Standish. The map, the figurines, everything. The thought lingered for a moment before he tightened his mouth with determination. When hell froze over. The man had broken into his home and had tried to kill him. God only knew what Standish might have done if Constance or one of the children had encountered the bastard in the labyrinth. He might already be damned by the Blakemore curse, but he’d be damned for sure if he let the bastard get away with his illegal activities.
“What if it’s not the map he’s after?” Constance’s soft words made him frown, and he turned his head toward her. She was staring off into space, her expression troubled.
“Of course it’s the map he’s after,” Aurora snapped. “And I say give it to him. I prefer to have my grandson alive for what’s left of my life.”
“I am not going to give that bastard the map or either one of the statuettes.”
Irritated by his grandmother’s outrageous suggestion, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and glared at the elderly woman. She returned his scowl with equal exasperation. His anger ebbed as a firm hand pressed against his shoulder. Unlike the touch he’d experienced when Nigel had been in the room, Constance’s touch was warm, soaking its way into his body.
“Blast it, Lucien! Will you please lie still,” Constance huffed as he easily avoided her attempt to keep him flat on his back. “You are the most pig-headed man I’ve ever met.”
“If I recall correctly, you indicated my brother was equally so,” he retorted.
The words tugged a small moue of surprise to her lips as she busied herself with stuffing pillows behind his back so he could sit up comfortably. At the sound of his grandmother’s gasp, he turned to eye the Blakemore matriarch sternly. “You have something to say, Grandmother?”
With a gleam of calculation in her piercing blue gaze, she stared at him for a long moment. Whatever she believed about the Seth figurine, she decided not to push him on the subject. Or perhaps he’d actually surprised her for a change.
Aurora shook her head and rose to her feet. She walked stiffly to the door. “It’s time for my spot of tea. If you feel up to it, my boy, I’ll see you at supper, but in the meantime I leave you in capable hands. Constance, remember what I told you.”
The no-nonsense look Constance received from Aurora made her cheeks flare a bright red. Intrigued, he waited until the door closed behind his grandmother before turning his head toward her.
“An interesting choice of words.”
Flushing a deeper color red, she shook her head and rose from the bed. “Your grandmother is a tenacious woman, especially when she makes up her mind about something.”
He grabbed her hand to prevent her from walking away. Beneath his fingers, her skin was soft and warm. He raised her hand to his mouth, and the delicate fragrance of jasmine tantali
zed his nose as he kissed the inside of her wrist. She trembled at the touch.
“Exactly what did she say to you, Constance?”
“It was of no importance.”
“No?” His mouth brushed across her palm before he gently nipped at her forefinger. The soft sigh of pleasure that escaped her pleased him. “I’ve never known my grandmother to say anything insignificant.”
She snatched her hand out of his grasp and moved away from the bed to the tea tray sitting on the fireside table. “Since you seem to be doing quite well, I’ll take this tray downstairs and ensure the children aren’t embroiled in some new adventure.”
“That night at the Clarendon…”
He watched her freeze in the act of lifting the tea tray. After several seconds, she set the tray down and turned to face him. Tipping her head slightly, she silently encouraged him to continue. Satisfied she wasn’t going to run away, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his body hurting as he did so.
“Why did you race away from me that night as if your life was in danger?” His question made her flinch as if the memory was unpleasant. Rising to his feet, he took several steps to the foot of the bed and leaned against the bedpost.
“I saw a man and a woman murdered. I thought you were involved with their deaths, but I was wrong.”
“Which is why you ran from me.” Relief barreled through him as her quiet words filled the air between them. She’d had a vision, but it hadn’t been about him. Her special ability hadn’t shown him descending into madness in a fit of uncontrollable rage. He folded his arms across his chest as he watched her.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’d never had a vision like it before. It was horrible.”
“You thought I’d killed my brother?”
“No. Not Nigel, your parents.”
The words drew up his sore muscles until they were knotted and shouting with pain. With a grunt, he pushed himself away from the bedpost. Christ Jesus, she’d actually seen his father kill his mother. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he remembered his mother’s blood splattered everywhere.