A Pirate's Wife for Me (40 page)

He handed it over.

The oak cudgel weighed heavy in her hand, and she let it sink slowly until the end rested on the floor.

Inside the king's study, they heard shouted insults. Feet thumped. Glass broke.

Fortunato gawped at the door. "I should go in there."

Something smashed against the wall. Someone gave a cry of pain.

"Didn't you hear the key turn?" she asked. "It's locked."

"I am a mercenary. I was hired to protect Sir Davies. I should break down the door." Fortunato backed up, half-turned, and prepared to fling his shoulder at the wood.

She sighed, and with a resurgence of strength, lifted the club and knocked him cold.

He fell sideways against the wall and slid down in a slump.

"You did your best," she said to his unconscious form, and placed the club beside him.

She looked around. The corridor was empty. Where were the servants? … Hiding from the sounds of violence, she supposed.

She placed her good hand on the wall and moved, step by step, toward the kitchen. She had to get there, had to fulfill her promises to Taran. Had to get the beacon lit. Had to … to free the queen.

No, not the queen. She'd met the queen. Queen Sibeol. If Taran was the crown prince, then there was not a doubt that Sibeol was, in fact, Cenorina's anointed queen. So if the queen wasn't in the prison, then who was? Who concerned Taran so much he asked for Cate's word that she would free an imposter?

Cate glanced down at the knife wound.

Oh, God. Blood oozed from around the blade and stained her sleeve, but she didn't dare remove the knife. Not yet. When she did that, blood would spurt and she would … faint…

Focus!

The imposter in the tower. Who was she?

Who else could she be, but Taran’s virgin bride, the woman Queen Sibeol had told Cate would replace her in Taran’s affections?

But no. That was impossible. Whoever she was, the imposter had to pass for a woman in her fifties.

On the other hand, Taran had passed for a blind and enfeebled soldier. Disguise was his specialty, and perhaps also the specialty of this woman. This … this virgin bitch.

Sight unseen, Cate hated her.

Without warning, a figure appeared at Cate's side. "Mrs. Tamson, you've been stabbed!"

Cate hadn't seen Zelle for days, yet here she was. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Upstairs. In the house. Where I could keep watch," Zelle said sullenly.

"The war has begun."

Zelle stepped back. "I don't give a damn about this war."

"You do. If you didn't, you wouldn't be so angry." Cate tried to maintain eye contact. But the world wavered, and she staggered.

Zelle caught her. She slid her arm around Cate's back. "I don't give a damn about the war. But you … you have been kind. Lean on me."

"Thank you." The floor dipped and rose like the deck of a ship.

Cate would not faint. She would not. She would land badly and do herself irreparable damage. And she had to keep her promise to Taran. "I need to find someone who can take care of this … of removing this knife."

"That would be Signor Marino."

Cate thought of the cook, competent and kind. "Good. I'm glad he can … help me. After that … I need you to do something for me."

Zelle stuck out her chin. "Why would I?"

"If I do not live through the day, someone must know —"

"You won't die of that little stab wound." Zelle was brisk.

"No. I won't. Not from this. But I have another duty I have promised the prince I will perform —"

"The prince."
Zelle
couldn't have made her scorn more clear.

"He's my husband."

"I know."

"He's Crown Prince Antonio of Cenorina."

"I know."

"How did you know?"
How?
Cate hadn't known. But if she pointed that out, she would look even more stupid than she felt.

"Servants know everything."

Cate stopped, leaned against the wall, and cradled her injured arm against her body. She stared at Zelle, silently demanding an explanation.

Zelle sighed in exasperation. "He came to Arianna, presented himself to our meeting in the cathedral, tried to cajole us, convince us he had changed. He fooled the others. But not me. And I knew he had to be hiding somewhere close. So I thought and I watched … he is so proud of himself for ruining Cenorina once before, and even now he is making plans to ruin it again."

"He's going to kill the man who did ruin Cenorina."

"So he can take his place."

"He's not like that." Taran had not told Cate who he was. But Cate knew him so well. His intentions were good. He was determined. He would succeed. "He came to save his country, make reparations."

"You came along to enjoy his life of luxury."

"Me?" Cate chortled, then winced at the fresh shot of pain that brought her. "I've cleaned. I've organized. I've cared for the staff. Do you sincerely believe I'm here for luxury?"

"Not you," Zelle admitted.

"Not him, either. Because … why? Why would he do that? He was a pirate captain. He was free. He had no responsibilities, and he made a fortune! Then he came here, to Cenorina, ravaged by Sir Davies. Reviving this country will be difficult and costly, and his duty will take all that he is." Cate was explaining Taran’s motivation and his intentions to herself as well as Zelle. It wasn't as if she really knew this, what with him not telling her the truth about who he was, the conniving phony. But she was speculating, and she knew she was right.

Zelle turned her face away and studied the front door as if she longed to escape that direction.

Fine. If Zelle didn't believe her, Cate couldn't help it. She didn't have time to say more. She pushed herself away from the wall and again started toward the kitchen. "I believe I have found the crown jewels."

Zelle caught up with her. "The crown jewels!"

"I'm not sure. I didn't get the chance to investigate. So if I die — "

"You will not!"

"— someone I trust must know of the crown jewels and how to retrieve them."

"Please don't tell me, lady." Zelle covered her ears.

"It must be someone who is competent and clever. Someone I trust."

Zelle took her hands away. "I am not that person. My loyalties are not to the prince. They are to my people."

"Your people are his people." Cate staggered again.

Zelle put her arm around her waist. "I wish I could believe you."

"You can. You should. For only he has the strength to save you from your enemies … and your friends. Without a royal family in charge, I promise you, England will swallow Cenorina."

Zelle's chin jutted out. "Let them try."

"England has a long tradition of winning. A ragtag mob of Cenorinians will not stop them." Again, Cate halted and leaned against the wall. "The crown jewels are Cenorina's national treasure."

"The crown jewels should be used to feed the hungry!"

"The prince has already recovered much of the money Sir Davies stole, and I promise, Taran will bring Cenorina back to prosperity. Now … about the crown jewels and their location."

Zelle looked away. "I already know where they are."

"You found them?"

"I have been observing you since you arrived. I didn't know about the prince, but I realized almost at once
you
were not what you seemed. You searched the house. I followed you, saw you pick locks, rifle through drawers and cabinets, tap wood and walls looking for hollow spaces. I started wondering what you sought. I thought … I knew no one had seen the crown jewels since Davies had taken power, so I began to search, too."

Cate's excitement rose. "Did you actually
locate
the crown jewels?"

"I didn't get the chance. If Davies left the king's study, he stationed the mercenary at the door. But once I went in on the pretext of cleaning and found —"

"— found the hollow space in —"

"— the cabinet behind the desk!"

The two women grinned at each other.

Then Cate's exaltation faded. "So I cannot extract a promise that you will bring them forth and give them to the prince."

"No. I found them. If I can retrieve them, they are mine." Zelle looked bitter, resolute … and ashamed.

Cate thought perhaps the shame could overcome the bitterness. "In that case, I shall have to try with all my strength to fulfill my last vow to Taran."

"What is that?"

"I must rescue the lady in the tower."

Zelle's face hardened. "The queen."

"No. The queen is no longer Davies's prisoner."

"She worked with him willingly. She was never his prisoner."
"Then why would she have to escape?"

Zelle had no reply to that.

"A brave and noble lady took her place." Cate pressed Zelle's hand. "Now if you'll help me, I will get this damnable knife removed."

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The rush of the oven's heat
and the outcry of the assembled servants made Cate lift her drooping head. She had just made the longest walk in the world, but at last they had reached the kitchen.

Zelle eased Cate down on the bench by the table.

Signor Marino came to her side.

The servants crowding the kitchen gathered behind him.

Gently he lifted her arm and placed it on the table. "Mrs. Tamson, what happened?"

"They're fighting. Taran and Sir Davies … are fighting. Sir Davies tried to … kill me." For the first time, Cate faced the truth. "He tried to kill me. If Taran hadn't shouted, if I hadn't turned, the knife would have struck me in the back, entered my lungs, and … he tried to
murder
me!"

"He's treacherous and a bully. We all know that." Zelle met her gaze.
"We've
lived with it for years."

"I know. But that is not my fault, and Taran seeks to make reparations!"

Zelle looked away from Cate's vehemence.

Cate needed to calm herself, to get over her shock of coming so close to death. After all, right now, Taran was fighting for his life, and she did not underestimate Sir Davies's prowess with a sword. "Signor Marino, this blade in my arm is not long, but we need to remove it and I understand you have skill with such wounds."

"All will be well." He waved at his scullery maid.

She sprang toward the cupboard and pulled out a roll of linen and some clean white rags.

"In my day, I've seen much worse than this." With a pair of long scissors, he cut the sleeve away from the knife. "Here in the kitchen, we're always cutting and stabbing ourselves." He spoke to the assembled staff. "Aren't we now?"

"That we are!"

"All the time!"

"Keeps us strong!"

Signor Marino nodded. "With a good sharp knife, you hardly notice the pain."

Cate blinked away tears. "It must be very dull, then, or else I am a complete milquetoast."

The footman offered her a glass of rich, red wine.

"Sip," Signor Marino urged. "It's good for the blood."

She did.

He said, "If you would like me to pull the knife for you—"

"No!" She didn't want to do it herself, but she couldn't stand the thought of anyone taking the hilt, possibly twisting or ripping her muscles.

"I knew you would say that. It's always the brave ones who insist on doing it themselves." He folded the linen into a pad, laid strips of rag out on the table. "Pardon me for being so impertinent, but if you ever retire as housekeeper, you would make a fine cook."

Gracia wiped Cate's face with a cool, wet cloth.

"I think being a cook requires more than bravery." Cate tried to smile, but it wavered terribly. "But you have made me feel better, more steady."

"That's the way," he encouraged. "Pull that knife out now."

Cate stared at the hilt protruding from her sleeve. The wound burned as if the steel was hot, and the blood seeping from around the edges dribbled onto the table. She put her hand on the hilt, took a deep breath, and pulled: fast and straight out.

Was it supposed to be easier coming out than going in?

It was not.

Yet Signor Marino moved so quickly, pressing the pad hard onto the wound. He lifted it and looked. "It needs stitches."

Immediately his scullery maid appeared with a thin curved needle threaded with silk.

They had planned for this. They had known it would need stitches!

Signor Marino pressed the skin together. The girl poked the needle through and around, and tied off the thread with each stitch.

Cate gave up on the bravery façade. With each thrust of the needle, she squeaked and moaned and whimpered. But she didn't move. Not an inch.