"My wife?" Simeon cackled despite the grip Griffin held on him. "You seek my wife? My wife?"
"Your life is already forfeit, you treasonous bastard, but tell me where she is now, and I'll see your death is a merciful one."
Simeon seemed unshaken. "She's mine," he spit. "Always was mine. Always will be."
Griffin roared in frustration and lifted Simeon off the floor. In one motion, he spun around and lifted him over the railing of the staircase.
Behind him, Griffin heard the soldiers shouting to send someone for the captain.
"Where is she?" Griffin shook Simeon by the shoulders, the earl's legs were dangling in the air high above the marble floor of the great hall below. "Tell me, Simeon. Tell me!"
He laughed. The bastard laughed.
Griffin was tempted to let him go. Let him fall. Let his skull splatter on the floor below and dirty its pristine marble with his blood and brain matter. But the king needed St. Martin. He needed information. And the earl was the only one who could tell Griffin where Julia was.
"Baron."
Griffin felt a hand on his arm.
It was the captain. "Baron Archer," he said calmly. "Let my men take him. He's better off to us alive. We've ways of extracting information from men who do not think they wish to talk."
Griffin stared into Simeon's face. The bastard was smirking.
Griffin allowed four soldiers to haul the earl back over the rail.
"Secure him in one of the chambers until we can take him to the Tower," Leander ordered. "I want six guards inside with him."
The soldiers, giving Griffin wide berth, dragged Simeon down the hall toward Julia's chambers.
"She's here," the captain told Griffin. "She must be. My men will find her. Just give us a few minutes."
They'll find her, Griffin thought heavily. But will she be alive?
Julia could see nothing through the blindfold.
She tried to shift her weight from one foot to the other. She was tied, standing, to a stone wall. She could feel the uneven rocks against her back. She was so weary she could barely stand, but whenever she slumped in exhaustion, the pain in her wrists tied over her head was unbearable. So she stood.
Julia didn't know how much time had passed since she'd become conscious again. Everything was so fuzzy. Getting fuzzier. But she knew it had to be hours. When she'd first awakened, there had been music. She had faintly heard laughter.
At first she couldn't figure out where she was in relation to the gallery. She could feel a wall close in front of her. There was space on either side. It wasn't until she realized it was fresh mortar she smelled that she knew where she was.
The wall.
She was sealed in the new wall of the gallery!
She didn't know how Simeon had managed it. The masons should have filled the space with rubble, as was usually done with walls this thick. But somehow Simeon had gotten inside. He had dragged her in and tied her up, and then escaped before she awoke.
Of course she couldn't scream. She was gagged. Clever son of a bitch. She knew he'd planned it this way. He had planned it so that she could hear the music, hear the guests, yet not be able to call to them.
At some point, the music had suddenly ceased. There had been screaming and men shouting. She could almost feel the vibration of marching footsteps.
Julia prayed that the commotion had been Griffin's arrival. She had to believe that he'd escaped Simeon's trap and returned to rescue her.
He would probably never find her.
Simeon would never tell where he'd put her. Not even if they tortured him.
It wasn't that Julia was afraid to die. She wasn't. But her heart ached for those she loved, Lizzy, Griffin. And what of the tiny babe that grew in her womb?
A lump rose in her throat and she choked it back. Tears stung her eyes. "No," she shouted inside her head. "I won't do this. I won't do this to myself or to Griffin. He's here. I don't know how, but he'll find me."
Please God, let him find me.
Griffin paced the marble-tiled floor of the empty gallery, up one side and down the other. Think. Think, his mind screamed. Where is she? She has to be here. Simeon never left the property.
The soldiers had been looking for Julia for hours. There was no sign of her. She had just vanished.
A candle sputtered in a candelabra on a small buffet table and went out. All the candles were burning out. Soon the entire gallery would be in darkness.
Griffin felt like those dying candles. Without Julia, life would never burn in him again.
But where was she? Griffin's gut was so twisted with fear that he couldn't think.
He turned sharply on his heels, his fists clenched at his sides. That son of a bitch Simeon. The captain said that in the Tower they had ways of abstracting information from prisoners.
Images of Jack's body flashed through his head, and a rage he'd never known bubbled up inside him. He struck his fist so hard into his palm that a pain shot up his injured limb. Perhaps he'd give Simeon a taste of his own tactics. A few strips of skin peeled off a man's thigh tended to make him talk. Simeon would tell Griffin where Julia Was then, wouldn't he?
Footsteps echoed in the gallery, and Griffin immediately attempted to quell his emotions. He couldn't let anyone see him like this—so nearly out of control. He forced himself to unclench his hands, and glanced up.
It was the captain. He was scowling.
Griffin drew his mouth tight, still wrestling his anger. He turned sharply at the end of the gallery near the green and white draperies. Julia had ordered them hung only days before. Julia. Another emotion threatened to surface, but this one was the worst of all—despair. He stared out the dark window that reflected his own wavy image. "What news have you?"
The captain shuffled closer. "Haven't found her." There was a catch in his voice, as if there was something he wasn't saying.
Griffin turned to him, his voice hoarse. "You haven't found her?" He had to say it. "Not her body?"
Leander shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the toes of his shiny boots.
Frustrated, Griffin tucked his hands behind his back to restrain his impulse to hit something, anything, even the captain. He just felt so damned helpless. "So, what have you found?"
The captain removed his hat and ran his fingers through his short, bristly hair. "You're going to be damned angry, my lord. You might as well take my head to the king on a platter now."
"What are you talking about?" Griffin snapped.
"The earl, my lord."
"Aye?" Griffin took a step closer. He felt as if he were a band of cloth stretched too tightly. Anything might make him snap. Then there was no telling what he would do, but Simeon would surely lose his life.
"He"—the captain drew in a breath—"killed himself, my lord."
"He what?" Griffin exploded as he grasped the green and white draperies and yanked them hard. Yards of silk in the St. Martin colors fluttered down. "He did what? How?" he shouted. "How the hell did he do it with an entire futtering army guarding him?"
The captain stood stiff-backed. "Poison, my lord."
Griffin kicked the piles of silk that had fallen at his feet. "Poison? Wasn't he searched?" he raged.
Leander grimaced. "Aye, my lord. It was the cider, we think."
"Cider? What the hell are you talking about!"
The captain's voice quivered, but he continued. "There was a food tray left in the chamber. The earl drank from the pitcher of cider. The whole thing. Said he was thirsty from dancing. The next thing my men knew, he was writhing on the floor. Groaning and gripping his stomach. He's dead, my lord."
Griffin felt his heart falling . . . falling. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned away. How would he find his Julia now? How?
Griffin stepped over the fallen draperies into the space behind. He and Julia had made love here.
Behind him he heard the weary footsteps of the captain as he took his leave. Griffin knew he couldn't blame the soldier
s for this. Who would have thought poison would be left in a bedchamber . . . in Julia's?
Oh, God. His stomach knotted, and he feared he'd be ill. Had Simeon poisoned his love? Had he left her body somewhere in the cellar to rot? His Julia. His baby.
A sob rose in his throat. No. No. He placed his hands on the new wall of the gallery, still damp to his fingertips. His legs were suddenly weak. His arm felt as if it were on fire.
His knees buckled under him, and he slammed onto the floor.
He saw a glimmer and blinked.
A glimmer?
He swallowed the acrid bile in his throat as he reached out with his bad arm. His fingers found the cold metal, and he turned to face the room where candlelight still burned.
It was his ring. The ring he had given Julia.
Hope.
Griffin rose to his feet and spun one way and then the other. She would never have given up his ring voluntarily. Either Simeon had taken it from her, or she had lost it. But she'd been wearing it last night. She'd been wearing it when they made love.
She had been here. Tonight.
Please, God, please let her be alive. He had never been a praying man, but he prayed fiercely now.
"Julia?" Griffin shouted. "Julia?" She had to be here somewhere. She had to be alive.
He turned again slowly in a circle, trying to think like Simeon. Trying to think like a madman.
What had he done with her?
Griffin rested his hand on the new wall. It was still damp and a little gritty beneath his fingertips.
Still damp. Still wet.
Griffin stared at the wall. Surely Simeon wouldn't have . . . But it had been done so many times in the past. It was said that all the great halls of England were built of the bodies of their enemies.
"Julia!" Griffin shouted. "Julia!" He slammed his fists against the wall, once, twice, three times. Pain seared up his injured arm.
Panting, he pressed his cheek to the rough wall. "Please," he whispered.
As if an answer to his pitiful plea, he heard a sound. A faint sound. Not necessarily a voice.
There it was again.
It was a voice!
"I'm coming, Julia," Griffin shouted at the wall, cupping his hands to amplify the sound. Then he dashed off to find a hammer. "I'm coming, sweetheart. Hold on!"
Julia's heart skipped a beat. She must have drifted off. Had she heard voices again. A voice?
Then she heard it again. A man's voice. Tears dampened her blindfold.
"Griffin," she said again and again. "Griffin, I'm here." She knew he probably couldn't hear her with his ears, but she prayed that somehow he would hear her with his heart. "I'm here, my love."
The first bang of the hammer and the tumble of rocks frightened Julia. Irrationally she feared that it was Simeon. He'd come for her. But it was Griffin's voice she heard. Not Simeon's. It was Griffin, coming for her. Griffin alive!
She heard the pounding again, and more rock fell to the left and in front of her.
She heard Griffin's voice again. Stronger. Louder.
"Julia? Julia!"
"Griffin," she cried against the gag. Her throat was sore. Her head throbbed with pain at the effort. "Griffin."
Then suddenly he was there. Touching her, calling her name in a calm, soothing voice.
"Julia, I'm here," he said thickly.
He untied her blindfold. Even the dim light that came through the hole in the wall hurt her head. But she kept her eyes open so she could see him. See her Griffin. She stared at the moisture gleaming in his eyes and wanted to touch them. Baron Archer, protector of kings, was crying.
Next came the gag. "I knew you would come," she croaked.
He untied her hands from above and caught her as her knees buckled.
"Julia?"
Her tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Spots of light spun in her head and made her dizzy.
He went down on one knee to hold her in his arms in the midst of the rocky rubble. "You're not going to faint, are you?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt weak, but she had no intention of fainting. She didn't want to take her eyes off him. Not for one moment.
Julia smiled as his warm mouth sought hers. "I've been waiting for you," she whispered against his lips. "Waiting forever."
Epilogue
Six months later
Julia smiled and accepted one of her guests' congratulations, her gaze straying. Where was Griffin? As she returned her attention to her guest, she absently ran her hand over her extended abdomen and smiled as the baby kicked. "Thank you so much," she said. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll go in search of the bridegroom."
Halfway across the great hall of Lena's country house, Julia met Lizzy and Amos.
Lizzy took both of Julia's hands in hers. "Sister, I know you wanted us to spend the night, but Amos really wants to get back to his shop." She glanced over her shoulder at her new husband. "He said that I should stay, but I'd rather go back with him." Her eyes shone with happiness.
Griffin had assured Julia that with enough money behind them, Lizzy and her baker would be accepted in any drawing room in the country. But where Lizzy was most comfortable was in her husband's little bake shop near London Bridge. There above the shop, she had made a cozy home for herself and her husband of nearly six months, and for the baby she was expecting.
Julia squeezed her sister's hands. "Oh, Lizzy. I was hoping you would stay a few days." Her sister's smile was infectious. "But you go. I'll be fine."
"I'll be back for your confinement. Swear I will."
Julia kissed Lizzy's cheek and then Amos's. "Take good care of her."
He blushed, almost handsome in his dark blue doublet and starched white cravat. "Yes, m'lady. You can be sure of that."
Reluctantly, Julia released her sister and watched them go. It had taken Griffin less than a week to find Amos Wright. And despite Julia's hesitation, Lizzy and the cook had married in less than a fortnight. Now she was glad Griffin had insisted that it was the best thing for Lizzy. He was right. Lizzy truly was happy, and that was what was important.
Julia turned away as they disappeared from sight. Now where had Griffin gotten to?
Jabar approached her, dressed all in white, as always. "My lady, the master seeks you. In the withdrawing room." He pointed to a panelled door off the great hall. "A special guest," he said softly. "One that did not wish to be announced at the front hall."
Perplexed, Julia lifted the emerald green petticoats of her wedding dress and followed her husband's manservant to the door. Jabar slid the door open, then closed it behind her.
Julia broke into a grin at the sight of her husband's broad shoulders. He was dressed rather subtly for his usual taste, in a sapphire blue coat and black breeches. As a joke, he wore one black and one blue shoe made especially for this occasion, though this time the heels were low and of equal height.
Griffin's back was to her as he spoke to a guest.
"You called, husband?"
"Julia." He turned to greet her, revealing the hidden person.
"Your Majesty, what a surprise!" She curtsied deeply.
Griffin caught her hand and drew her up. "Whoa, there. You shouldn't be doing that. If you don't mind, I'd prefer my son or daughter was not born on the floor."
Charles laughed and put out his long arms. "I'd rather have a hug, if Griffin will allow it."
Still a little intimidated by the fact that Griffin was a friend to the king of England, Julia allowed His Majesty to place his arms around her shoulders and hug her.
His embrace was strong.
"That's enough." Griffin took her hand and pulled her away from the king. "I fought too damned hard to make her my own. You'll have to find your own wife, Charles."
The three laughed, and Julia rested her cheek on Griffin's arm. "Tired?" he asked and kissed the top of her head.
"A little."
"Sit. Sit," Charles instructed. He indicated an embossed leather s
ettee. He took a brocade chair directly across from them. "I apologize for not making the ceremony, Madame, but I was needed elsewhere. The damned Dutch are just aching to go to war with us."
"That's quite all right, Your Majesty."
"Charles. I asked you to call me by my given name, at least in private."
She felt her cheeks grow warm. "I'm honored by your presence at all, Charles. It wasn't necessary that you come."
"Wasn't necessary? Griffin's wedding, and it wasn't necessary that I come?" He laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. "The man who broke the ring of conspirators who could have taken my throne from me? I'd not have missed seeing the two of you today if I'd had to fight the Dutch myself."
She gazed into Griffin's eyes, a smile just for him. She was so proud. "Thank you for coming, just the same."
The king rose, and Julia and Griffin started to rise as well.
"No, no, sit, Madame." The king raised his palms. "I insist. I'll just slip out the back."
Julia settled down on the settee again, thankful for the reprieve. Her back had been aching for hours, and her feet were weary. By her calculations the baby would be here in a few weeks. "Please come again when the house is not quite so full, Charles. We'd like to have you stay with us a few days."
"So you intend to remain here?"
Julia's gaze met Griffin's. "We're both happy here," she said. "It will be a good place to raise our children, and we think Lena would have liked us to stay."
"Just so long as you promise to come to London often. I'll be lonely without my favorite drinking and gambling companion." The king slapped Griffin on the back, his voice filled with sincerity. "Lonely without my favorite big brother."
Julia stared, knowing she couldn't have possibly heard what she thought she heard.
The king looked at Julia, then at Griffin, then back at Julia again. He snapped his fingers. "Ods fish, don't tell me I've done it again." He hooked his thumb in Julia's direction. "You mean to tell me the woman wears a Stuart ring, and you didn't tell her?"
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 29