“He does have an eye for the ladies. Nonetheless, he is extremely loyal, obeys orders and is far more intelligent than he appears.”
“The perfect goon,” she murmured.
“But I have not brought you here to discuss Oscar’s virtues—”
“Before we get into that, would you mind if I got dressed?”
“I think you are most lovely clad as you are.”
“I’ll bet.” Her gaze skimmed the room. “Do you have any idea where my clothes are?”
“If you refer to that rag you arrived in,” he raised a shoulder in a dismissive shrug, “I ordered it burned.”
“You burned my dress!” She glared. “What am I supposed to wear?”
“Do not despair, my lady, I have ordered a new gown to be found for you.” He walked back to the door, stepped into the corridor and barked a command to an unseen servant. Within a minute he returned, shutting the door firmly behind him. “’Twill suit you, I think.” He held out a garment.
“Thanks. My old one was looking pretty ratty anyway.” She took the dress, glanced at it and grimaced. “It’s yellow.”
“A lovely color for one with your fair hair and dark eyes.”
“It’s great, if you like the jaundiced look. Now, turn around so I can get dressed.”
“If you are certain you do not need my assistance?”
“I’ll manage somehow.”
“Very well.” He turned and she dropped her sheet to struggle quickly into the gown.
“When you are ready, I wish to speak to you.”
“You know, I don’t think that’s such a good idea without Galahad.” She’d always wondered why everyone had servants in past eras. Now she knew. The clothing here wasn’t particularly complicated but she could use a little help.
“Without Galahad is precisely how I wish it.” His words had a hard edge.
She adjusted the gown and frowned. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “You can turn around now.”
He turned and gazed at her for a moment, a sleazy sort of admiration on his face. “I do envy Galahad your company, my lady. Your charms are quite obvious.”
“They’d be less obvious if there was more to this dress.” She tugged at the bodice of the low cut-gown in a futile effort to pull the dress higher.
He laughed. “And as witty as you are beautiful.”
“Thanks. Can we sit down?”
“Be my guest.”
“I already am,” she murmured and glanced around the room. Aside from the bed there was a single stool near the fireplace, a wooden chest and a long, armless bench. The bed was definitely out. The stool was too awkward so that left the bench. She moved to it with as much dignity as she could muster and sat down, keeping her spine rigid, sitting as straight and tall as possible. The last thing she needed was her chest hanging out. Now…” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
“And direct as well. Excellent.” He strode to the bench and sat down beside her. She wanted to inch away but held her ground. “I have a proposal that may interest you.”
“I doubt it. What kind of proposal?”
His tone was casual. Too casual. “First, you should know I am well aware of Galahad’s quest. I would much prefer that he fail.”
“That’s a surprise.” He raised a brow at her tone. “Want to tell me why?”
“’Tis no secret there is no affection lost between Galahad and I.” A nasty light glinted in his eye. “I quite despise him and he cares little for me. ’Twould provide one of the pleasures of my life to do away with him without a second thought.”
“Swell.” Her stomach clenched. “So, what’s the problem? I thought everybody liked Galahad.”
“’Tis exactly why I do not.” He rose to his feet and sauntered across the room. “I know you are from a far-off land and are therefore not well versed in the intrigues and histories of my father’s kingdom.” He stopped and slanted her a pointed glance. “I am his heir, you know. Next in line to be king of all the Britons.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“He will, however grudgingly, pass on to me his crown, but his affection is reserved for Galahad.” His voice hardened. “He regards Galahad as a son and myself as—”
“Scum of the earth?” she said sweetly.
“’Tis an odd phrase but well said, my lady.”
“Thanks.” She rose to her feet and folded her arms over her chest. “I can see why you don’t like Galahad but what does his quest have to do with you?”
“I do not wish to wait for my father’s death to achieve my rightful place.”
Unease crept up her spine. “I still don’t get it.”
“’Tis simple enough to comprehend.” His tone was cold and downright evil. How could she ever have thought he was cute? “My father is counting on the Grail as a symbol to pull the country together. I will not allow that to happen.
“Even as we speak, I have loyal followers in every corner of the kingdom. Supporters who agree with me that Arthur is not the man he was once. ’Tis past time to wrest control from him and place it in the hands of someone who will do for this land what he can do no longer. Someone with the courage to smite our enemies. To conquer, not compromise. England was once a country of proud warriors. My father has turned it into a land of weak old men. Arthur’s day is nearing an end and before it is too late, before we are crushed at the hands of our foes, the people need—nay—they demand a new king.”
“And that would be you?”
“Arthur is the past.” He straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. All he needed was a cape billowing out behind him to complete the picture. She’d bet he had one too. “I am the future.”
You are one crazy, loony tunes prince.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I wish you to convince Galahad to cease his quest for the Grail.”
“Is that all?” She scoffed. “I thought it was something hard.”
“Do not jest with me.” His voice was low and controlled. “He will do it for you.”
“What planet are you from, pal?”
His brow furrowed with confusion.
“Forget it,” she snapped. “What could possibly make you think Galahad will dump his heart’s desire just because I ask him to?”
“’Tis love that will bend Galahad’s will to yours.” Mordred smirked. “The man is besotted by you.”
“Besotted? Hah! Get real.” She snorted and crossed the room. “Where did you get a stupid idea like that?”
Mordred frowned. “I was led to believe—”
“Led to believe Galahad loved me? Don’t believe everything you hear. It’s a crock.” Even as she said the words she wished they weren’t true. “Who in the—” She stopped and stared. “Viviane! I’m right, aren’t I? That’s who fed you this line, isn’t it?”
“It matters not, if it is untrue.” He studied her for a long moment. A crafty smile spread across his face. “Perhaps I was simply mistaken. Perhaps it is you who love him.”
She shrugged. “So what?”
“So, my lady, if you do not convince him to end his quest I will kill him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow. “And why is that?”
Beats me. Hopefully, the prince couldn’t tell a bluff when he saw one. She swaggered over to him with as much confidence as she could manage and poked her finger at his chest. “Because your daddy, the king, wouldn’t like it.”
He paled and grabbed her hand. “I care not what my father does or does not like.”
“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be a smart move to piss him off before you’re ready for this big revolution, would it?” She smirked up at him and tried to pull her hand away but he held it fast. Her heart hammered with fear but she refused to let it show. Fake him out, Tessa.
“You are indeed as clever as I suspected.” He stared down at her with icy blue eyes. Arthur’s eyes without the warmth. Creepy. Very creepy. “But I do not ne
ed to kill him at once. A quest of this nature is of undeterminable length. I could simply throw him in my dungeons and forget about him. His absence would not be cause for concern in my father’s court for years. Eventually they would assume the noble knight has gone the way of so many before him, slain in a quest to save king and country. None would ever know he lives his days in foul stench and darkness on a diet of rats and spiders and whatever else he may find.”
She stared, praying her defiance hid her frantic efforts to come up with something. She’d already saved the Big Guy from an immediate death only to condemn him to something slower and torturous. How much worse could she do? “No way. It won’t work.”
“Why not?” He yanked her harder to him. A muscle ticked in his jaw. This was one dangerous guy.
“He doesn’t come back and he’s a hero. They’ll make him a legend. They’ll sing songs about him and tell stories about him.” She smiled a wicked smile of her own. “Think about it, Mordred. His name will live forever.”
“Stop!” He shook her hard.
“Anyway you look at it, you’re screwed. You can’t kill him now. You can’t kill him later.” A note of triumph sounded in her voice. “Now let me go. You’re hurting me.”
“I think not.” His words were slow and deliberate. “I don’t think I shall let you go at all.”
“What do you mean?” Could he hear the fear in her voice?
“She said you have something he needs. He cannot find the Grail without you.”
“Viviane is full of it.”
“I believe her.”
“Then you’re full of it too.”
“Am I?” His eyes gleamed and her breath caught. “Galahad’s quest would be doomed to fail and I would not be involved if you were to, how shall I put it, suffer an unfortunate accident.”
“You wouldn’t kill me.” She forced a conviction she didn’t feel to her voice.
“’Twould be a pity.” He glanced down. Her chest was crushed against him and he could see right down her dress. “A very great pity. Perhaps there is another way.” He grabbed the back of her head with his free hand and forced her face to his, crushing her lips beneath his mouth. Real fear shot pure adrenaline through her limbs. She struggled against his iron grip with a strength she never suspected she had. Would he rape her? Right here? Right now?
“St. Margaret Mary’s High School. Self Defense 101.”
His grasp eased slightly. She pulled away and launched Sister Abigail’s premier move, the steps automatic in her mind: hands clasped, quick turn and jab. Her elbow rammed into his stomach.
He groaned and doubled over. She gulped and tried to pull air into a body too terrified to breathe on its own.
He gasped and straightened. Rage colored his face. Terror gripped her. “Whore!”
He pulled back his hand and cracked it across her face, knocking her backward. Pain swept through her. Stars crowded her vision. She stumbled and fell to her knees. He stepped to her, grabbed her hair in his hand and yanked her to her feet. She swung her arms wildly in a futile effort at defense.
“You fool.” He spit the words. “You do not understand. One way or another Galahad’s quest is at an end.” He released her hair and thrust her away. She staggered but stayed on her feet.
She lifted her chin and glared. “Don’t bet on it, pal. He’s the good guy in all this and the good guy always wins.”
He stared in disbelief then laughed. A vicious, mirthless sound that echoed through the room. “Do not wager on that, my lady. When all is said and done, Galahad and his ilk rarely understand that victory requires more than noble virtues and holy morality. Victory goes to he who has strength and power and the will to use it to his gain. To do whatever it may take to triumph.”
Her face throbbed with pain. “He won’t give up. He’ll never give up.”
“He has no choice.” Mordred turned abruptly and strode toward the door, yanking it open with a vicious force. He turned back toward her. “I will however, give you both the chance to save your miserable lives. If Galahad wishes to continue his quest for the Grail he may do so but he leaves you behind.”
“He won’t do that.”
“I will give him my word no harm will come to you.”
“Your word?” She laughed in spite of herself. “Your word doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
“Nonetheless—”
“And what’s your definition of no harm anyway?”
“I will not kill you.” His gaze drifted to her breasts and she resisted the immediate impulse to cover her chest with her hands. “Nay, I quite think I should prefer to keep you alive. For a very long time.”
She clenched her teeth. “I’d rather die.”
“I will be happy to grant your request.” He raised a wicked brow. “Eventually.”
“Galahad won’t go for it.”
“Then it is up to you to convince him, my lady. In spite of your observations about my father’s reactions, I am more than willing to kill him now and be done with it. If he refuses my offer, I will do so. If, however, he leaves without you, both your lives will be spared. For now. I do not know what you possess that he needs but I have no doubt he cannot find the Grail without you. I want Galahad’s failure more than I want his life.”
She shook her head. “He won’t do it.”
“We shall see. Whether he loves you or not he has sworn to protect you. He can ensure your survival only by leaving you in my hands.” He smiled slowly. “I must say I am quite looking forward to having you in my hands.” He stepped out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him.
Tessa stumbled to the bed and dropped onto it. Her face throbbed where he’d smacked her. All the fear she restrained in Mordred’s presence threatened to overwhelm her and she sobbed for a moment then angrily swiped at the tears on her face. This was not the time to cry. She had to think.
How were they going to get out of this one? The only way she could see to escape Mordred’s clutches was to accept his offer and let Galahad go on alone. But surely, he’d never agree to leave her behind at Mordred’s mercy? Leave her to a fate she could only imagine. A fate that would leave death the only escape. Would he choose the Grail quest over her?
When the offering can be no greater.
Was this the sacrifice of the riddle? Did she have to give up her freedom, condemn herself to a life, however short, with Mordred to save Galahad? In spite of the gutsy facade she’d adopted since her trip through time, she wasn’t really very brave or courageous. She’d spent her entire time here bouncing back and forth between sheer terror and hysteria. The bravest things she’d ever done before taking on the middle ages involved challenging the speed limit to beat a yellow light. She talked a good game but she was basically a wimp. Wasn’t she? Maybe she was braver than she thought. Maybe not, but her character had never been tested before. She’d never had her own life or anybody else’s on the line.
Until now.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, through all of this, she’d believed Merlin wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. That this was just a game and he’d whisk her away before the bell rang for Final Jeopardy. In spite of all the talk about challenges and dangers and how they could only depend on themselves, she really thought Merlin would protect her. It might have been the dragon or the encounter with Viviane or the very real threat in Mordred’s eye or all of it together, but she knew now she was wrong. Survival, Galahad’s and her own, depended on her.
How could she find the courage to sacrifice her own life to save the life of the man she loved?
How could she not?
Chapter Eighteen
Where was Tessa?
Galahad paced the width of the room that served as his prison. ’Twas no use to try the door: he’d heard the unmistakable sound of a bolt thrown when he’d been cast in here. Odd. Why did Mordred not throw him in his dungeons? In truth, ’twas no difference. ’Twas no way out.
Was she hurt?
His jaw clenched. He’d
tried to rest as soon as he realized escape was impossible but his sleep was fitful. His mind was too crowded with dreams of Tessa and fears of what may have befallen her.
Was she dead?
His stomach tightened at the thought and he pushed it from his mind. He would know if she was dead. Somehow, he would know.
The door swung open with a loud creak.
“Galahad. Such a pleasure to see you again.” Mordred stepped into the room.
“’Tis not the word I would have used,” Galahad said coolly.
“We never were very much alike.” Mordred glanced around the chamber. “How do you find my home, Galahad? If memory serves, you spent some time here as a boy, did you not?”
“Aye, when this castle was home to Arthur and his court.”
“’Twas not in truth Arthur’s. ’Twas my mother’s and her kin’s.” Mordred’s voice was hard. “And now ’tis mine.”
Galahad raised a brow but kept silent.
“So,” Mordred narrowed his eyes, “do you not wonder as to the fate of your delightful companion?”
Galahad carefully kept his expression blank. ’Twould not do to let Mordred see how much Tessa meant to him. ’Twould be as foolish as handing the man a sword and aiming it at his own heart. “Nay. I have had much else to consider since my arrival. I assume she is well?”
“She is quite well. For the moment.”
Galahad released the breath he had not known he held. “What do you want of me, Mordred? Why am I here?”
“Say but the word and you shall be free.”
“And after you’ve taken such pains to bring me here.” Galahad arched a brow. “I can scarce believe ’tis that simple.”
“Oh, ’tis indeed simple.” Mordred crossed his arms over his chest and leaned insolently against the door frame. “You have but to give me your word that you will give up your quest for the Grail and you, and your lady, may leave.”
Galahad snorted. “’Tis all you ask?”
“Not entirely. I shall provide you with an escort to the sea and a ship and you, with the fair lady by your side, shall sail away from England. Forever.”
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