Wicked

by Shannon Drake

  Ralph leaned down, catching her arm, helping her to a sidesaddle position before him. Tristan went back for his own mount.

  Brian realized ruefully that he might well be the Earl of Carlyle, but, apparently, everyone had decided that he and Hunter could just walk themselves back. And if they decided to tear into one another again in the process, well then, they could beat one another to pieces, if they so chose.

  Brian turned and started back for the castle. Hunter fell into step with him.

  “Secret entrance, did you say?”

  “My father believed, from family diaries, that a tunnel had been dug—an ancestor was a staunch supporter of Charles I. I believe that messages, and people, came and went through the tunnel at that time. In the years that followed, there was no need. There was no more mention of it after the days of Anne Stuart, and the 1750 Act of Union with the Scots. The story fascinated him. He talked about it now and then. His passion was ancient Egypt, but he was also a huge believer that there was much for us to discover here at home.” He was quiet for a moment. “Had he only stayed here.”

  They were both long legged and walked quickly. They crossed the drawbridge and approached the castle through the courtyard.

  Hunter indicated the carriage, sitting at the far side. “I’ll take my leave. I—really thought that you intended harm to Camille,” he said. It wasn’t exactly an apology. “I was a fool, I guess. The minute I met her…well, she wasn’t just beautiful, but so incredibly intelligent and sure of herself. She would even flirt a bit and tease, but she had no intention of falling into any kind of an affair. I thought that I must marry above myself, being a lowly sir! But then you made your announcement, and I realized that I was a true horse’s ass! Oh, she knew I was enchanted. But I thought that I was too good to offer more, since her background…Ah, well, I am the loser. But I will remain her most ardent defender! And, Lord Stirling, if you are not serious in your intentions, if you…well, if you do harm to her in any way, I swear, you will know how fervent an enemy I can be!”

  Brian was startled by Hunter’s sudden and truly passionate declaration.

  “You see, I have sense now,” Hunter added. “I would marry her. And cherish her the rest of my life.”

  Was it all an act? Brian wondered. So much of Hunter was an act. Maybe they all put on acts. But was this a true declaration? Or a scene calculatingly played out now, so that suspicion would be averted from him in all ways?

  “You may rest assured, Hunter, that I would not allow Camille to be hurt in any way. And if I discovered that someone did intend her harm, I’d kill him on the spot and risk an assignation with the hangman.”

  Their eyes held as a breeze picked up in the courtyard.

  “Well, then, where do we go from here? It appears that the gloves are off, that we all suspect one another of all manner of things. What do we do? There must be some answers, some reckoning. Sir John is dead,” Hunter said. “And God help us all, the museum is an incredibly fine institution. We’ll be bringing it down along with ourselves if we don’t find a way out of the insanity!”

  “Insanity? Yes and no. Someone is selling treasures out of the country. Insane? Not when there’s a fortune to be made.”

  “Lacroisse! You suspect Lacroisse of buying from…who?”

  “If I knew, we’d know who was guilty,” Brian said, watching him intently.

  “In a thousand years, I’d have done no harm to your mother!” Hunter told him. He shook his head.

  “And I would not blindly go about murdering people!” Brian countered. “I believe that the police will begin questioning all of us.”

  “And if we’re lucky, they’ll find the answers,” Hunter said.

  “No. If the killers are lucky, the police will find the answers. Because if I discover the truth first…well, I’m afraid that I will remember exactly how my parents died. Good night, then, Hunter,” Brian said, and he walked wearily into the castle.

  TRISTAN WAS MARKEDLY UPSET, suggesting that they leave the castle as they rode.

  “We can’t do that,” Camille told him.

  “Why?”

  “The answers are here.”

  “But we’re in danger! People are dying,” Ralph said.

  She slid down the horse as they reached the courtyard and the great entry to the castle. “Ralph, if you’re worried, you must go on home.”

  “What?” Ralph demanded.

  “Camille, Ralph is making sense,” Tristan said. “Alex bitten, and now Sir John dead! I’m not worried for Ralph and meself, we’ve lived good lives. But Camille, lass…dear God! I know you’re engaged to an earl, but child, your life is worth more than any title!”

  “Tristan, this has nothing to do with a title! Tonight there have been answers. And we are nearly to the end of it. We’re not leaving,” she said firmly. “Well, I’m not leaving. Perhaps the two of you should go—”

  “And leave you!” he said with horror.

  “I wouldn’t want either of you hurt,” she said softly.

  “Camille—”

  “Excuse me. I’m taking a bath,” she informed him. And she left them there. She walked back into the house, ignoring Evelyn, who was worriedly pacing the entry.

  “Camille!” Evelyn said, horrified at her appearance. “What’s happened? Where is Lord Stirling…Hunter? He said he saw you run out of the house. Into the woods!”

  “Yes, I ran into the woods. Brian and Tristan should be back any minute. Good night, now. I’m going to my room.”

  “Camille!” the woman called after her, her voice sounding frantic.

  “Good night!” Camille repeated.

  Upstairs, she locked the door and began peeling off her filthy clothing. She ran water in the bath, grateful for the great iron tub and the fire heater beneath it. It didn’t do to sit too long—one could scorch one’s self in certain places—but the hot water was such a luxury!

  Unfortunately, she needed more time for it to really heat, and she couldn’t bear the dirt and dust upon her another minute. She sank into the water, knowing that he would come. And, of course, he did.

  She didn’t hear him enter the room, until he was standing in the entry to the bath, leaning against the frame, watching her.

  “I had thought you’d be gone. That you’d have run far away,” he said softly. “I thought that you’d still be angry.”

  She studiously scrubbed an elbow. “I am furious. I am beyond furious. And my heart is bleeding for Sir John. My little corner of the world is a disaster. And you are a monster!”

  “But you’re still here.”

  She looked over at him. His features were tense, his eyes dark.

  “I am a part of the department,” she said. “Sir John is dead, and that is quite personal, Lord Stirling. In truth, though I lack the men’s college degrees and experience in the field, I am a scholar, though I’ve not thought so all these years.”

  “Ah.”

  She dropped the soap and cloth and stood, dripping, reaching for her towel. She approached him, eyes narrowed. “You…cad!” she told him, slamming against his chest as she had earlier. “You had to know that your wardrobe hid a tunnel!”

  “I didn’t,” he swore, catching her wrists. “I swear to you, I knew nothing about it until tonight!”

  She realized it was unlikely that he had. She had broken through a decaying wall to take the path she had. She looked up at him, knowing her eyes showed fear. “That wasn’t the only tunnel. There was another passageway. Actually I broke into that route by accident. Brian, someone could get in—and now get up here!”

  He shook his head reassuringly. “No. No more.”

  “But—”

  “Shelby and Corwin are in the crypts now, sealing the tunnel with bricks and mortar.”

  She searched his eyes and sighed. “So…when you’ve heard that noise, someone has been in the crypts.”

  “I believe so. Definitely tonight.” He said sternly, “What were you doing down there tonight? You lit
tle fool! With a household like that, you went down those stairs?”

  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 abruptl
y 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…?”