The Goddess

by Robyn Grady

  “I haven’t been able to keep from my mind,” he murmured, “that last night we spent together.”

  “In our bay.” Sighing, she lifted her lips and took her time tasting his. “I’ve never been so happy.”

  His fingers twining through her hair, his mouth dropped over hers, and as the kiss deepened, longing swelled until she burned for him with her body and soul. Her touch traced his hot muscles as she arched into his hard length. When she reached beneath his shirt, fanning fingers over his chest, his throat rumbled and lips dragged away.

  “I want nothing more from this world than to be with you,” he said.

  A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “Kiss me again. Don’t leave me yet.”

  But when her mouth grazed his, his hand on her shoulder held her firm.

  “We’ll be married. Soon there’ll be no need for shadows, not for any reason.” Their foreheads touched. “One day soon, you’ll be my wife.”

  “Dear love,” she found his hand and pressed it to her heart “let me be your wife tonight.”

  …

  When Acacia opened her eyes, it took a moment to grasp where she was. The space around her rippled with flickering shadows, her body was free of clothes, and Leandros stood nearby with his back to her. his shoulders locked, and his fists balled at his sides. Hand on her brow, she pushed up on an elbow.

  They were holed-up in a cave on the second island. She looked across. The baby was awake too, but quiet, as if he were listening. On the far wall, nestled among the shadows, the figurine seemed to smile over at them all. Then Acacia recalled the riot, the confusion, and the pain, and her stomach plunged as if she’d just jumped off the balcony, too.

  How long had they slept? And Leandros was so still.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  He held up a hand, a signal to hush, and her stomach lurched again. As a royal princess, she was used to getting answers, and she needed one now because that feeling of falling, of deepest dread, filled her so fast she thought she might drown.

  She snatched her dress, punched her arms through the sleeves, and then she pulled on her undergarment, the item Leandros had slid off when she’d persuaded him to hold her as closely as he could. In those few moments when they’d made love, she’d never known a greater joy, a stronger connection. Their joining only proved they were meant to be together. The bond—the love—was too powerful to deny.

  A thought bloomed, and her gaze shot over to the fertility figurine at the same instant her hand went to her belly. But this wasn’t the time to wonder about legends or consequences. Clearly Leandros was worried; perhaps he had heard something. A rat or flapping bat?

  Acacia fitted her shoes, chastising herself. She shouldn’t have asked him to stay. Yet in her heart she couldn’t regret it. She hoped he didn’t either, even if he was wary now.

  A sound—the distant falling of pebbles—filtered toward them, and Acacia stiffened. Carefully she reached for the baby, standing as she drew him in near to her breast. He was soaked through and no doubt hungry. This moment she could help him with neither. Her gaze glued to the shadows beyond the chamber entrance, she shushed against his little ear.

  “Stay quiet, dear heart. Be good a little longer.”

  The sound of scuffling pebbles came again, then the echo of a weight splashing into a puddle. Her heartbeat thudding now, Acacia edged back. Not rats. Others had discovered this cave. Whoever it was, they might make different turns, may not even reach them in here at all—but then the baby whimpered and the noise reverberated as loudly as the rumble of thunder. At least it seemed that way to her ears.

  A deathly silence followed. Everything stood frozen. Acacia prayed. If she didn’t breathe, maybe she would wake again and this time find Leandros returning from the villa with enough provisions to help them reach safety. She wouldn’t be standing here, quaking, offering her soul in exchange for escape—for another chance.

  As time wound on, her eyes began to sting. She blinked, and in that instant the gates of hell were thrown apart.

  A bear of a man appeared at the chamber’s entrance. Leandros yelled at him to stop, but the man plowed on. Then they were clashing, growling like dogs, throwing punches. Acacia tossed a frantic glance around. She needed to help, in some way needed to fight too.

  She lay the baby down and jumped on the intruder’s broad back. Bucking, he threw her off into the air. Her chin hit the rock floor and spinning stars exploded before her eyes.

  When the flashes faded, she rolled onto her side, crawled to her knees, and then to her feet. Out of the darkness, the goddess’s form, the figurine, appeared like a prize before her, wise and benevolent.

  The men were scuffling, rolling and skidding over the ground. Leandros held a dagger but the other man had a gun. Someone was about to die, and Acacia needed to make certain who—

  They’d reached the last page, but clearly the story didn’t end there.

  Helene groaned. “Guess we have another search on our hands.”

  “If it takes me ten years,” Tahlia said, “I’ll find the rest of that story.”

  Helene raised a brow. “That sounds as if you’re going to hang around.”

  “This is my home. It’s where all my memories begin. No matter where I go I’ll always come back, even if it’s just to visit.” Tahlia squeezed Helene’s hand. “Particularly when nieces and nephews are involved.”

  Later that evening, when Helene saw Darius again, she told him about the bookshelf and about the story, but she didn’t pass on Tahlia’s words because she believed that in his heart he already knew. In time, he would accept it, too. Tonight, however, he was still fighting the inevitable.

  Sitting at the foot of their bed, Helene filed her nails and watched Darius pace.

  “Tahlia and Otis are going on a vacation,” she finally said, but gently.

  “And if she doesn’t come back?”

  Helene smiled. “She will.”

  “I’ll make it clear to Otis that he needs to keep his hands to himself.”

  “Perhaps you’d be better making certain he uses protection.” He snapped a horrified glance her way. She shrugged. “I’m only being practical.”

  A look of grudging resignation filtered over his face. Exhaling, he took a seat alongside of her. “It really is out of my hands.”

  She rubbed his thigh. “Think of it as practice for this one.”

  He glanced at her tummy and half grinned. “I haven’t gone past panicking about the diaper stage. Seeing Alexio’s granddaughter…she’s so small.”

  “Our baby will have a strong father to protect her.”

  “And a loving mother to change those diapers.”

  She laughed softly. “Sorry to be the one to tell you but daddies change diapers, too.”

  He stole a kiss that turned into a warm then simmering embrace. Together they fell back onto the mattress. When the kiss slowly broke, he fanned a hand over her head, watching the movement.

  “I think I’m done pacing.”

  “In that case, I’m done with my nails.”

  His gaze shifted down to her navel. His palm traced the flat plane as if it contained the world’s greatest and most mysterious treasure—which it did.

  “I wonder whether we have a boy or a girl.”

  “Could be both.”

  “Twins?” His head lowered, and he kissed the spot his hand had caressed. “Lots of diapers.”

  “Twice as much to love.”

  His gaze drifted up to hers. His jaw shifted, and then he took a breath as if he had something he needed to say. Helene wondered if he wanted to confess that his feelings for her had deepened. Not because he needed to reassure her, but because he’d truly fallen in love with her, like she’d fallen in love with him. Lately, she wondered if there’d ever been a time when she hadn’t loved this man.

  Tugging the sash from around her waist, he was about to kiss her again when the bedroom extension rang.

  “Who’s callin
g at this time?” she asked.

  Darius reached for the phone. “There are only a handful of people who know this direct line.”

  He picked up and muttered a greeting. Soon his face turned dark and he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

  …

  Not wanting to eavesdrop, Helene moved into the attached bathroom and slipped into a white lace negligee, brushed her hair and her teeth, dabbed on French perfume from an ornate bottle Darius had given her then, opening the door, moved back into the bedroom.

  Finished with his call, shoulders rounded, Darius was still sitting in the same spot. As she drew closer, he didn’t move, didn’t look up. A shiver rolled over her skin. Who had he spoken to on that special extension?

  His voice was low, graveled. “That was Galen. He’s decided not to wait until the coronation to visit. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  Sinking down beside him, Helene digested the news and lightly gripped his thigh. “Will he bring his wife?”

  “He’s coming alone for a short stay, he said.” Groaning, Darius dropped his head in his hands. “I want to see him, but he couldn’t come at a worse time. I wanted to announce our engagement this week. We don’t need any bad memories stirred up.”

  “Maybe his being here will help. Everyone can see for themselves that whatever the reason your uncle was pushed out, that episode’s in the past. They’ll know you’ve both moved on, made amends. They’ll see that times have changed.”

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  After rising from the bed, he crossed to a sideboard, poured a scotch, and tossed back half. He looked almost dazed. More agitated than she’d ever seen him.

  “It’s been so long. I wonder if anyone will even recognize him. You can’t do anything about it now.” She propped up a pillow, patted the sheet. “Try and get some rest.”

  His smile was wry. “You think I can sleep? I told you about the group who tried to take my mother hostage,” he said. “That they were rallying to get rid of us all. There are always those types lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to dredge up trouble.”

  When his gaze traveled from her face to her belly, Helene’s hands automatically covered the spot. This was all speculation. Calm and peace had reigned here for decades, and it could continue to reign during and after Galen’s visit. They just needed to think clearly. Put things into perspective.

  She left the bed and crossed over to him. “Sometimes thinking about something is worse than when it actually happens.”

  He began pacing again. God, she hated seeing him like this.

  She tried again. “You should try to keep calm.”

  “I’m as calm as I can be.”

  He threw back the rest of the scotch and reached for the decanter again. Her hand gripped his.

  “Sit down,” she begged.

  “I need to think this through.”

  “I just want to…”

  “Help?” Looking defeated, he closed his eyes. “You can’t.”

  Because she’d only make things worse? Because she didn’t really understand?

  He was agitated. She ought to simply get under the covers and wait for him to settle down and join her when he was ready. But was this a taste of what her life here with Darius would be? They’d just become engaged and she felt as if she’d been relegated to a space.

  She watched him set off again, refilled glass in one hand, decanter in the other. He was thinking more about yesterdays than tomorrows.

  Both his parents had passed on recently. He was to be crowned king, to be married and to become a father in the next few months. With Galen’s proposed visit bringing back fragile memories, she understood he was under pressure, but storming around wouldn’t help.

  “Darius, please, just take a few deep breaths.”

  He continued to pace.

  “Nothing can change the past,” she said. “Your father would understand that. Your father would want you to—”

  “God, please, leave me be!”

  At the same time he snapped, Darius hurled the glass at a wall and slammed the decanter down hard while Helene stood frozen. After a moment, he shook his head. He glanced at the shattered glass and dragged a hand down his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I didn’t mean to—”

  He was walking toward her when a noise—a thud—filtered through the room. His brow wrinkled then eyes widened. As if guided by radar, he strode directly to the cabinet that housed the figurine. He parted the curtain. When he leaned against the wall for support, Helene covered her mouth but the gasp still escaped.

  The figurine was on the floor. Her head was separated from her body, which was cracked through in half a dozen places. Rubble was littered around the main chunks.

  Darius sank to his knees. Carefully, he collected a piece and cradled it in his hands, close to his chest. The figurine wasn’t the only one broken. Darius looked destroyed, too.

  “She was set well back,” he rasped. “I-I don’t understand.” His gaze drifted up from the rock and, frowning, he blinked. “Did you take her out? Were you hurrying to put her back and didn’t push her back far enough? God, if you wanted to see her again, Helene, why didn’t you just say?”

  Helene was floored. “I didn’t go anywhere near her.”

  “Someone must have. She didn’t topple off by herself.”

  The way he glared into her eyes made Helene’s chest ache.

  …

  Darius knelt there, feeling destroyed. At his deepest level, he was a Vasily, a man whose veins ran with centuries of royal blood. For all his education and talk about the progress of his country, he’d been taught to respect tradition and at least half listen to superstition. To believe prophecy. The cave-in, the pregnancy, Galen coming home, now the figurine lying there destroyed…

  He couldn’t help but think… Hell, he knew it was true. His entire life, everything, had changed the day that he’d met Helene.

  …

  Thirty minutes later, in a private sitting room at the other end of the palace, Darius snatched the stopper off a crystal decanter and grabbed a glass. Then he remembered the scene earlier—how he’d lost control, raised his voice—and he set the stopper firmly back in its place.

  His stomach was still on the floor when Yanni appeared at the door, looking frustratingly cool and collected.

  “The walls have ears,” Darius drawled.

  “A concerned staff member passed on that you left your quarters earlier looking rather agitated.”

  “I got a phone call from Galen. He’s arriving tomorrow.”

  Yanni’s glasses seemed to flash in the muted light.

  Then Darius admitted throwing the decanter and how the vibration sent through the wall had somehow dislodged the figurine. That’s all he could put it down to anyway.

  “She’s spent centuries locked away in a God-forsaken rock chamber,” Darius said. “But when it’s my turn…”

  He flinched. His father would have disowned him.

  And then there was Helene. He’d accused her of tampering with the figurine. But he’d immediately seen in her face that she hadn’t, and wouldn’t. Still, she’d been upset enough to return to her previous quarters. She didn’t think he trusted her. She assumed he thought she was a klutz.

  Hands clasped before him, Yanni regarded his own measured steps as he crossed over. “I’ll have an expert look at the figurine,” he said. “We’ll have her restored.”

  “The finest craftsman would die of old age before putting her halfway back together.” Considering the options, he rapped a set of fingertips on the chair arm. “I’ll sweep up the pieces myself and…”

  Yanni waited.

  “And, Your Highness?”

  Dazed, Darius shook his head. “I have no idea. What does a person do with a priceless artifact that he’s demolished? She’d only been known through legend. No one would ever be the wiser. But I know.”

  He hadn’t protected her. And where his f
ather lay, he knew it, too.

  Emotion swelled in his chest, burning and twisting. “I was going to make an announcement,” he said. “Helene’s pregnant.”

  Yanni stepped back as if someone had pushed him.

  “I’ve proposed,” Darius went on. “The child is mine and no power on earth will convince me to walk away.”

  “And Ms. Masters?”

  “She accepted.”

  “You sound conflicted.”

  “I know what she thought tonight when the figurine smashed. If it hadn’t been for her the goddess would have been safely locked away in a vault.” And then he’d seen it on her face. She wanted to run back to what was familiar. She wanted to return to the States. “But nothing is her fault. I made those choices. And now I can’t undo them.”

  Yanni shifted, his nose scrunching and hands rubbing like he had an itch that was driving him insane. Finally he stretched to his full meager height and announced, “Your Highness, there’s something you should see.”

  Darius groaned. “Now?”

  “It’s important.”

  Darius was weary, frustrated. But Yanni looked determined.

  Exhaling, he pushed on the chair’s arms, found his feet, and followed his Chief Aide out the door. Yanni led him to a nearby room, to a vault, which he opened before stepping well back. Darius lowered onto haunches, looked inside…

  And his jaw nearly smacked the ground.

  He rubbed his eyes and his heart, belting against his ribs, looked harder.

  “What is that? Some sort of joke?”

  “That, Your Highness, is the true artifact.”

  “Impossible. My father swore to me on his grave…”

  “Your father didn’t know. This figurine has been handed down from every counsel’s Chief Aide through the ages. It’s an arduous journey back and forth over the water. And as far as staying in that cave where anyone might find her…” Yanni shuddered so much his glasses slipped. “Only once that I’m aware of was she bundled away for a brief period to wait inside that chamber. But that occurred under extreme circumstances almost a hundred years ago.”

  With infinite care, Yanni slid the figurine out of the safe and handed it to Darius. With that warm steady weight in his hands, he was left near speechless.