by Robyn Grady
“She has potential,” Otis added modestly. “She can be fidgety in the ring. At times, she can be easily spooked. She just needs a gentle hand to remind her she’s doing well.”
Darius sipped and nodded. “I remember when your father was in charge. His pet hobby was dressage. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
While interactions between the two males appeared to progress, tension rippled beneath the surface…Darius’s backhanded compliment about Otis’s “hobby”…Otis standing with his feet shoulder-width apart as if bracing for a fight. Tahlia felt the vibes, too. She stroked Otis’s arm in the way she must have seen him sooth and reassure his horses.
Dinner was announced. In an adjoining room, they each took a seat at the table. Darius, of course, sat at the head.
“Where do you plan to show this horse of ours, Otis?” he asked, reaching for the fresh crusty bread placed on his side plate.
“Germany has one of the finest circuits.”
“How long does the season run?”
“I’m a ways from confirming anything.”
“I suppose if you were away for any length of time you’d need to find a replacement here.”
“Every member of my team does an excellent job. But right now I don’t intend leaving my post,” Otis hesitated, adding “not for any great length of time anyway.”
“I’m only thinking,” Darius went on, “if we get this horse in shape quickly, a stint in Germany might fit in nicely with Tahlia making some headway with a degree.”
“If Otis goes to Germany,” Tahlia said, “I’ll be going with him.”
Darius’s dark eyes narrowed, the heat in the room spiraled up a few dangerous degrees, and, wanting to diffuse the situation, Helene chirped in.
“I’ve visited Germany. Gorgeous scenery. The castles are amazing.”
“London has some amazing architecture, too,” Darius replied.
“And one day, I’ll see London again,” Tahlia said. “When I’m ready.”
Helene withered in her seat. She might have her opinions, but now wasn’t the time to voice them. From the stony look on Otis’s face and the straight set of Darius’s mouth, any more opening of communication lines would be a mistake.
Obviously thinking the same, Otis put his napkin on the table and pinned his gaze on his host. “I appreciate this invitation,” he said, “but in the best interests of everyone here, I should go.”
Tahlia gripped his hand and got to her feet. “If you go, I go.”
Otis spoke softly. “You stay. He’s family.”
“I don’t care,” Tahlia muttered.
Cupping Tahlia’s cheek, Otis gave her an appeasing smile. “We’ll work this out. I promise.”
When she cupped his cheek, too, Otis slanted his head enough to brush a gentle kiss on her inside wrist. He said, “Excuse me,” and crossed to the gold-trimmed towering door with an even but firm gait. He was halfway out the door when Darius shot to his feet and Helene shrank further more.
God save them all if he came out with something that smacked of authority. The fires Otis had managed to douse would flare again, and this time Tahlia wouldn’t stay behind.
Darius called Otis’s name. About to close the door behind him, the younger man angled stiffly around. Darius lifted his chin.
“I’d like you to stay,” he said, and then added, “Please.”
Helene almost laughed; she was so relieved. As Otis relented and returned to the table, she placed a palm below her belt. Darius might be practical but he was also capable of compromise and deep devotion.
Otis was right.
Two steps forward, one step back. Eventually, this would all work out.
Chapter Fifteen
Darius set down his pen. “I’ve already told you. The palace is off limits to the public.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Helene gazed out over a view of her favorite lawn and garden—one where she and Tahlia often walked.
“It wouldn’t work,” Darius went on. “Certain barriers need to be kept in place.”
A week had passed since the dinner with Tahlia and Otis. Although the men had not parted best friends, some kind of truce had been reached. Darius had refrained from steering the conversation toward how his sister should attend college, Otis hadn’t tried to walk out again, and long-suffering Tahlia had kept her cool.
Darius was trying. Hopefully at some level her advice about respecting Tahlia’s feelings had sunk in. One individual could not dictate how another ought to live their life—particularly where matters of the heart were concerned.
And over the past days, with her and Darius secretly engaged and her pregnancy progressing, Helene couldn’t deny that her feelings were beginning to delve deeper into that area as well. While this whole soon-to-be-a-royal situation might seem surreal, she was gradually coming to terms with the idea of living a happy life here with Darius and their baby.
As he had said, their child would want for nothing, and she knew he’d make a wonderful father, as Tahlia had said he would. Still, the thought of the ceremony and obligation that went hand in hand with it all left Helene queasy. She’d exchange this palace for an ordinary home and an ordinary life in a snap.
Which was probably why she’d made the suggestion to open the doors and broom out some of the cobwebs and dust from the past. What was wrong with making new friends feel welcome in your home from time to time?
“What about an hour every fourth Sunday?” she asked, focusing again on the possibility of opening the palace to the public.
He had crossed to the fax machine. Poring over a document, he replied, “No.”
“Only the throne room, the main reception area, the formal dining room and, of course, the library. Maybe one day in the whole year?”
“We’ll see.”
“Because I had another thought.”
He twitched his shoulders and pretended to shiver. “This is where I get itchy.”
“We have the figurine in your suite. I was thinking,” she crossed over to him, “we could bring her out even more. Like into a main reception room.”
He studied her for a long tense moment before returning to his desk. After folding into his chair, he gave his answer.
“No.”
“We could put her in an inch-thick glass case to make sure she’ll be safe. Then everyone can admire her.”
Sitting back, he twirled his silver ring round and round.
“I’ll speak to Yanni,” he finally said. “See what can be done about constructing a more permanent home for her outside of a safe.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a let’s go one step at a time and give poor Darius a break for a while.”
When Helene swooped over to hug him, he caught and maneuvered her around. At the same time she landed on his lap, his mouth covered hers. A warm protected feeling wound through her, leaving her wanting a whole lot more than his kiss.
When his lips left hers, his gaze reflected all the emotions bubbling up inside of her, too.
“Sure you’re not a lobbyist?” he growled.
“That’s a nice way to say I nag.”
“But with a high rate of success. Perhaps I should put you on my ministry.”
“We’ll call it ‘Minister of Wanting To Spend More Time With You.’”
He was about to kiss her again when a third voice filtered across the room.
“Hard at work, I see.”
Helene wriggled out of Darius’s lap to stand and straighten her dress as, looking as poised as ever, Tahlia moved into the room.
Darius stood, too. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”
“We’re going into town,” Helene said.
“I just came by to say…” The princess laced her hands before her. “Otis and I are going away together.”
Darius stiffened. Then his chest made a noise like a boulder rolling down a distant hill, and his shoulders pinned back.
“You two are
not eloping.”
Tahlia groaned. “Darius, we’re taking a vacation for a week. After our conversation the other night, we decided to see Germany together.”
Darius blinked then drew his shoulders back more. “And Otis thought he’d simply leave without asking permission?”
“Otis intends to speak with you tomorrow. He said that out of respect we wouldn’t go if you weren’t happy. But I’m letting you know that I’m going either way. I’m giving you the chance to respect Otis the same way he respects you. As a man. As an equal.”
Tahlia didn’t wait for a reply. She merely kissed them both good-bye then left, displaying the same dignity with which she’d arrived.
Darius returned to his desk and blindly stared at the blotter while Helene rocked back on her heels.
“I figure you don’t want to talk about it.”
“You figured right.”
“Are we still on for lunch?”
Darius pretended to concentrate on his laptop screen. “You go without me.”
Okay. He needed time to absorb Tahlia’s “defiance,” while Helene was only proud of her. Rather than rake the coals, it was best she leave him alone.
Outside Darius’s office, she passed Yanni speaking to a small group of employees. He nodded as she walked by. Further down the hall, Tahlia waited.
“How’s he taking it?” Tahlia asked.
“Well, he’s not yelling.”
“He can yell if he wants. I have my life, and I’m going to live it.”
As they walked together, Tahlia inclined her head toward Helene. “Otis likes you.”
“I like him.”
“I told him about that unfinished story. How we’ve searched the palace for the rest of it with no luck.”
With permission from the occupants, the two had searched the help’s quarters. They’d ferreted through the room attached to that balcony from which the queen had thrown herself. They’d searched the library, which was so extensive that the task had proven to be beyond them.
Helene asked, “Otis thought we should give up?”
“He had an idea where to look next. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before.”
When Tahlia showed her to the library, Helene couldn’t contain her disappointment. Everywhere she looked, soaring walls were filled with books. An ancient globe, cradled within a mahogany stand, took center stage. The room smelled old and filled with secrets, but she and Tahlia hadn’t unearthed a one yet.
“We’ve already looked here.”
Tahlia wagged a finger. “Not here.” She headed for a bookshelf. “We both thought this might be the bookshelf Acacia used to escape.”
Helene waited. “We’ve already looked through the shelves. And under them.”
“But we didn’t look behind it.”
Helene leaped with excitement before they tugged, pulled, and pushed the bookshelf until they were out of breath.
“Maybe we could get some help,” Tahlia said. “Otis could be here in ten.”
Helene thought of how Acacia had shifted it herself that night long ago and, catching her breath, gave it one last shot.
The wooden base began to grind against the floor. Tahlia jumped forward and they both heaved. They must have pushed it five feet when they stepped back and looked.
There was nothing behind the bookshelf but more wall.
Tahlia staggered back. “The tunnel’s been closed over.”
“Or there never was a tunnel.”
“Either way, it’s another dead end.”
Helene was more confused than ever. “Why did she leave bits and pieces of that story all over the place? Why not write the thing then give it to someone to type up and maybe even publish?”
“You have to remember the times, Helene. Turbulent. Dangerous. Perhaps she wrote when she could and stuffed the pages away when she had the chance.”
It made sense, but that didn’t make this situation any less frustrating.
Helene had fallen back into a couch. Her gaze drifted around the enormous room. Darius had said there were volumes of interesting reading in here…but she couldn’t find the one she and Tahlia were desperate to enjoy.
A maid strolled in, saw them, and promptly turned on her heel.
Helene called out. “You can come in. We were leaving.”
The maid began polishing balustrade while Helene and Tahlia talked on about other possibilities. After a few minutes, she crossed meekly over.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said. “I overheard. You’re searching for lost pages of a story. Old pages. Hidden somewhere in the palace.”
“Do you know something?” Tahlia asked.
The maid crossed to the globe. “I found this when I began polishing five years ago. I didn’t tell anyone. Just closed it up again.”
Helene edged over. “Found what?”
The maid bent down and pressed a slate of the globe’s mahogany base. A drawer slid out. Several yellowed pages lay inside. Tahlia swept them up. Beyond eager, Helene followed her friend to the sofa and together they began to read.
Leandros’s first instinct was to run to his boat and fight to douse the flames eating along its lines. This was his second home—his livelihood—but the damage was already done. The main mast creaked and moaned like a wounded beast then crashed into the water. The hull would soon be reduced to char and ash. Who had set the fire, and where were those bastards hiding now?
Acacia leant her cheek against his arm. “Oh, Leandros, your beautiful ship.”
“Do you see anyone?” he asked with his jaw tight.
They surveyed the area but, other than the noise and color of the blaze, all seemed quiet. Then his focus shifted toward the darkening sky. Sparks carried by a brisk evening breeze flew from the direction of the palace. A piece of glowing debris caught a pine tree branch. The spot sizzled and consumed needles before the heat and red died away.
Acacia rubbed her cheek up and down his shoulder. “What will we do?”
“Take the ship-to-shore boat.”
“A row boat?”
“It has a sail. It’s beached behind those boulders.” He nodded at the sky. “The rebels are too busy enjoying themselves at the palace to worry about vandalizing anywhere else just yet. We’ll head for the second island.”
The royal villa would be well stocked.
“And then?”
Turning to her, he placed a kiss on her silken cheek. “From there we go on to do and be anything and anyone we want.”
…
Hours later, they moored in a rugged cove a sailor would normally avoid. After dragging the boat on shore and camouflaging it with branches, Leandros lit a torch to see their way clearly over the pebbled beach. When they happened upon the entrance of a cave, he moved to hurry them inside, but Acacia stood back.
“The baby’s asleep,” she said. “But he’ll wake hungry and wet. We’ll keep moving until we reach the villa.”
“We can get supplies, but we can’t stay there. As soon as they can, men will gather, and when they can’t find you, they’ll look there. They intend to destroy everything that reminds them of your family, Acacia. Everything that represents its past and its future.” When an image of her brother flashed in her mind she shivered, suddenly light-headed, and he gripped her arm. “After you and the baby are settled in, I’ll go on alone to gather supplies. We’ll sail before dawn.”
They traveled deep inside the cave, stopping at a chamber that looked to be a dead-end. But as he trailed the crackling torch and its light around, Acacia frowned. This didn’t make sense.
“Fresh torches mount the walls,” she said. “And that corner is decorated with cushions and blankets.”
He nodded slowly. “A pirates’ lair.”
“There’s no sign of hidden treasure.” She gravitated toward a ledge. “Other than this.”
Leandros joined her, arcing the torch around their find, illuminating the ample curves and distinctive lines. Acacia drew a fingertip arou
nd the figurine’s cheek. The stone was smooth and warm. Somehow strangely familiar.
“I overheard Father speaking to Risto once many years ago,” she said. “He spoke of handing on his responsibility. That it was time for Risto to meet the goddess.”
“Goddess?” A grin kicked up one side of Leandros’s mouth. “You mean this?”
But as she stood and studied the figurine in this quiet sanctuary cocooning them, the more certain Acacia grew. It was said that the Goddess of Tierenias had not been seen by human eyes for a thousand years. Although the people believed in her powers, particularly on this island, there was no proof her material form had survived or, for that matter, had ever existed.
Acacia remembered her father and Risto spending time together here on this island alone shortly after the conversation she’d overheard.
Had Risto known about this cave, this chamber? The goddess was supposed to offer her fertility, happiness, and longevity to those who revered. Risto had taken many trips to this island alone in recent times. Had he come here to pray, particularly once the whispers had started that the woman he had loved carried another man’s child?
“Should we take her with us when we leave?” she asked.
With a grunt, Leandros led her to the cushioned booth. “I only know that you should sleep while the baby sleeps.”
After he’d laid a large pillow on a low plateau, Acacia settled her sleeping nephew down carefully.
“Rest.” He gestured toward the booth.
“If you’ll rest with me.”
“There’s no time—”
“A few moments.” Her throat swelled. “I need you to hold me. You need me to hold you, too.”
When she cupped his bristled jaw, his shoulders slumped as if the tension that had charged him these past hours had suddenly seeped to his feet. He brought her palm to his mouth and kissed her there with a tenderness that left her aching.
“I suppose…,” he said. “A moment then.”
While the baby slept a few feet from their heads, she and Leandros curled up together on the cushions. With one arm curled around her head, he stroked her hair and nuzzled her brow until she couldn’t help but believe everything would be all right.