Beauty's Curse (37 page)

“Will never met me at the stables, the bugger. I put the horses away meself and almost missed the messenger. The king's around, I think. Close enough to watch what ye do for himself.”

Rourke shuddered. “Will never met you? That's odd, man. We need to find him.”

“Bloody lot of help ye'll be,” Jamie snorted.

Franz knocked once and entered the room. Rourke was hit with a scent, lavender and lemon, over something else. “You've seen the lady Galiana?”

“Oui, and what a welcome to you, too.”

“Is she all right?”

“She was when I saw her earlier in her room. Nasty little chamber overlooking the back courtyard.”

Filled with unreasonable jealousy, Rourke gritted his teeth. “Why were you in her room?”

“Relax, mon ami, I was but searching for Will. The lad disappeared, and I needed my bags.”

Now goose bumps chased the chills in his veins. “You were looking for Will, as was Jamie? And neither of you could find him.” He thought of Robert, of the smell of blood mixed with perfume. He pulled the enameled device from where he'd pinned it inside his tunic. Betrayal.

Franz said, “Where did ye get that, Rourke?”

“It was Robert's.”

“He served Brittany? I never knew that,” the Frenchman said.

“It was before he swore his sword to me,” Rourke said with a shrug, noting the interest in Franz's tone.

“We'll go look for Will again,” Jamie announced. “He's probably in the kitchens, stealing a bite from the maids.”

“For certes, he's a handsome lad—mayhap he's stealing more than that, eh?”

Franz's chuckle didn't ease Rourke's apprehension.

“Are you joining us, Rourke?”

Careful to keep his gaze toward the window, Rourke answered curtly, “Nay. I've errands of another nature to do.”

Jamie shuffled Franz out of the chamber.

Will was missing. Where was Godfrey?

Rourke couldn't keep track of his own men. How on God's earth was he supposed to find the magical stone? He was useless.

Galiana realized she'd taken a wrong turn when she found herself in a lavishly decorated hall. Two servants in neatly pressed clothing went from chamber to chamber to see if they were needed.

Most guests said no. Just as Galiana was gathering the courage to ask for help, one guest answered the door using a lovely voice that Galiana immediately recognized as belonging to Lady Magdalene Laroix. Her fingers clenched, and the ring she'd tucked beneath her tunic burned.

She stepped back against the wall, shielded by a marble statue and a large fern.

“I need refreshments,” the lady snapped. “Ale and meat will be adequate.”

The servant quickly agreed and rushed to the lady's bidding. Galiana knew the right thing—the honorable thing—would be to follow the servant down the stairs and find her own chamber.

She stayed hidden.

Once the hallway was clear, Galiana idled toward Magdalene's chamber door. While finely constructed, the rooms had an echo that allowed Galiana to hear from the outside.

No wonder Rourke hadn't wanted to speak freely.

He was a spy. She was not a spy.

So what did she think she was doing?

Her pulse raced as she pressed her ear to the wall, sweeping her gaze up and down the hall so she wouldn't be caught. Magdalene's cultured tones grew harsh and guttural as she berated whomever she was with.

“You bring me this news and demand payment? Where is Robert?”

A man's voice, low and unrecognizable, mumbled something that made the lady screech with outrage.

“You lie,” she said. “You killed him?”

A mumble.

“Then who?”

Galiana jumped back as the door to the chamber opened, although the lady had her back to the hall. Shaking, praying to all the saints that she wouldn't be caught, Galiana held her breath.

“You can leave, if you think to threaten me. I'll not have it and neither will Constance.”

“My lady, you misunderstand,” the man's voice, while muffled, was clearer. “I am protecting your reputation, for a small fee.”

“Blackmail.” Magdalene slammed the door closed, and Galiana darted down the hall to the first set of stairs she could find. Intrigue was around every corner, and she was ill-equipped to deal with the challenge.

How did Rourke manage it?

Ending up in the courtyard by the kitchens was a relief, and she searched the bustling servants for her only friend in this castle. Gregor. It was like trying to find a blond needle in a haystack.

Pages, squires, kitchen scullions, and cooks all had chores to do, especially this close to the dinner hour. Racing back and forth, they didn't stop to ask her what she needed, although quite a few almost told her to move out of their way before realizing she was a lady of rank.

Galiana passed a boar on a spit and smiled at the young girl whose job it was to turn the crank at an even pace. Remembering Bertie and Joey and her brothers made her eyes well with sadness. Would she ever see them again?

She shrieked as a beefy hand landed on her shoulder. “Lass, what brings ye here?”

She whirled, grateful to see Jamie and, behind him, Franz. She looked beyond them, but Rourke wasn't there. “I'm lost,” she said, a tear spilling from her eye.

Franz immediately offered assistance, but Jamie elbowed the knight aside. “Ye'll be fine. Have ye seen Will?”

Galiana shook her head. Should she tell them of overhearing Magdalene's argument? The two men would probably laugh at her, and tell her that lover's spats were common at court. It hadn't sounded like the two were lovers, though. Indeed, it seemed as if the man was a stranger to Magdalene, and whatever he'd come to tell her had been important enough for her to grant the man audience.

In private.

Because she was being blackmailed. The man's voice teased at her trained ear. She knew it; she just couldn't place it.

“Godfrey's not turned up yet either,” Franz said in an effort to explain Jamie's gruff question.

“I can ask around, if you tell me where to look. I can't even find my own chamber, though, so I don't know that I'll be much help.”

Jamie shook his head. “We'll get ye back to your room. The last thing we need is another person lost.”

“My lady?” Galiana looked down as the young girl at the spit pointed toward the back of the brick bread oven. “He wants ya,” she said with a bob of her little head.

She looked over and saw her page waving at her from the corner.

“Gregor,” she sighed with relief. “My page,” she explained to Jamie and Franz. “Don't worry about me now—find Will and Godfrey. And”—her stomach tensed—“will you save me a seat with you all at dinner?”

“But of course!” Franz bowed low, and Galiana was disturbed by the pinch of white around his mouth. He didn't look good. The girl called for her again. “He says to hurry, my lady.”

“Go, then,” Jamie ordered. “Stay in yer chamber; do ye ken?”

His amber eyes dared her to disobey. “I understand,” she agreed.

They turned out toward the stables, and Galiana rushed to the back of the ovens. The heat hit her like a wave, but after being so cold, she didn't mind at all.

Gregor wasn't alone. Will slowly met her gaze.

“Will? Will! Jamie and Franz were looking for you.” She stepped away to call for the knights, but Will jumped up and grabbed her arm.

“Nay, my lady. I've a message for your ears alone.”

“Oh. Will—” Galiana sighed, hoping the squire wasn't going to profess his love for her. She'd hate to break his heart, but she'd be gentle. If anything, this experience of lusting after Rourke had given her compassion toward those who felt they loved her for her beauty alone.

She wasn't vain; it was a simple fact of life that she was beautiful. At times it was difficult, and at other times it made things simpler. She was just now beginning to recognize its potential power.

She gestured for Gregor to give them privacy.

“From the most beauteous woman in the world,” Will sighed, his heart shining from his eyes.

“From the most beautiful?” Galiana reiterated, remembering the same phrase falling from Rourke's lips.

“Who?”

“Queen Eleanor,” he placed his hand over his heart.

“Oh.” Once again, she couldn't compare to a queen. “Well—what does she say?”

“She wishes to meet with you and Lord Rourke tomorrow morning, just before the sun rises,” Will said in a hushed tone.

“Where?” Galiana joined him in a whispered conversation. Mayhap intrigue was easier to learn than she'd thought. “Why can't she speak to us here?”

“Nobody knows the queen is near. She does that sometimes, to keep her hand in, she says.” His voice was filled with admiration.

“I'll get lost, for certes.” Galiana panicked.

“Lord Rourke knows the way—tell him to take ye to the old manor lodge; he'll know.”

She was sure he would, damn him.

Pausing, Galiana asked quietly, “Does Rourke know you are in league with the queen?”

Will shook his head, his expression a mixture of regret and pride. “Not yet, my lady, but I will tell him this day.”

“You have until dinner, Will, else I will say something. He believes you to be loyal.”

“I am loyal! 'Tis lucky for me that my lord Rourke does nothing against the queen, aye?”

Galiana almost asked if Will, and the queen, knew about Rourke's first allegiance to Scotland, but then her brow scrunched with confusion and she kept her mouth closed. What if she asked and gave Rourke away?

“If you go now, Rourke is alone in his room,” she suggested. “I don't suppose you know where I am staying?”

Will laughed and pointed her to the correct hall. “Up those stairs, my lady. Stay left. Ye're at the very end of the hallway.”

When she reached her chamber, it was occupied. Her things were laid out on her bed for all to see, and the two ladies in the room were sorting through her jewels.

“What are you doing?” Galiana demanded, her spine stiff. “Those are mine.”

The two ladies, both pale but one blond and the other brunette, immediately dropped the baubles with a clang.

“I was searching for …” The blond glanced at the brunette, who simpered, giggled, and shrugged.

“You caught us being nosy.”

“My apologies,” the blond said, her cheeks pink. “I'm Lucinda.” She started putting things back in the jewelry bag.

“I'm Rohan,” the brunette said, still not one whit sorry, Galiana noticed. “You've got much nicer jewelry than the normal downtrodden second cousin to a lady that usually gets the end of the hall chamber.”

“Is it true ye're married to Rourke Wallis?” Lucinda's smile was angelic. Galiana didn't trust it, especially since the lady was now uncorking and sniffing each of Galiana's scents. In her opinion, angels would have better manners.

“Why aren't ye makin' the knights sleep in the barn or something, so that ye can have that gorgeous man to yourself?” Rohan ran her hands down her hips. “Or does he prefer the company of his men to yours?”

“Don't be mean,” Lucinda tittered nervously.

Galiana, so glad she'd not kept the magic ring with the rest of her jewelry, went to the bag and dumped it again, deliberately sorting and counting the contents. She arched her brow, and held out her hand to Rohan.

“My falcon brooch?”

Annoyance crept across the lady's face as she shook the ornament from her sleeve. “I was going to borrow it.”

“Most people ask first.”

“Come on, Lucinda. Let's not stay here with her ‘highness.' Don't ye just hate people who think they're better than everyone else? I'd wager Lord Rourke doesn't want to stay with his wife. It makes dallying easier, eh?”

Lucinda, cheeks flaming, followed her friend from the room, her wrists smelling suspiciously like violets.

“'Tis true I'd not turn him down, if he were to glance my way.” Rohan turned and gave Galiana an evil wink.

Gali's vision turned red. “You're not his kind.” Rohan's comments cut, whether she wanted to admit to bleeding or not. “Too cheap.” She shut the door in the woman's face.

Was the wench right? Did Rourke not want her around? Did she put a crimp in his spying style? Did he actually have to pleasure each woman he pried information from? Which made her wonder what he'd wanted from her.

She knelt by the side of her bed, her stomach sick. This was the man she loved, and, aye, she loved him. She couldn't stay married to him, because he would tear her heart out and stomp on it without a second thought. She couldn't survive such a brutal onslaught.

Too numb to cry, Galiana rose, choosing the green silk dress for her first court appearance. She was a Montehue—descended on her mother's side from Queen Boadicea. She was a warrior, fighting with the gifts she had: her beauty, her charm, and her grace. If Rourke wanted the Breath of Merlin, then as her last gift to him, she would make sure he had it.