Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (26 page)

She caught muffled comments but her eyes were focused on him. Arik stood there tall and solid. He dressed more or less in period with a contemporary touch. He wore smooth black breeches that hugged his powerful legs. His soft leather boots fit snugly around his calf. He wore a gray silk shirt with a large open collar, exposing a silver torque that fit around his throat. His black coat emphasized his broad shoulders and was tapered to the waist then into a gentle flare at his hips. Slits in the full sleeves gave a view of the billowy silk sleeves underneath. He had a ruggedness and vital power that drew her like a magnet.

He was hers.

She gazed into his eyes and her heart skipped a beat. His extraordinary eyes twinkled with excitement and smoldered with passion at the same time. Whispers of good luck and good fortune filled the room as she and George proceeded. Halfway to Arik everyone else in the room seemed to fade. At last she stood in front of him.

“Who giveth this woman to this man?”

“I do.” George removed her veil and placed her hand in Arik’s.

Her heart was racing. Arik held her hand gently, his thumb making small circles on her wrist, soothing her.

Somewhere she caught snippets from the minister. “Love is the force that allows us to face fears and uncertainty with courage. Base your marriage not only on the joyous days but the hard days. Remember that devotion, joy and love can grow only if you both care for them. Build yourselves a partnership based on strength and respect and it will sustain you all the days of your lives.”

“Rebeka,” the minister said. “Do you take this man to be your husband…”

She was marrying him because it was important to him. Well, that’s what she had believed. She understood it was important to her, too, and for much the same reason. Family. Belonging to one, starting their own—all things she had wanted. Over the past months, when things seemed at their darkest, he was the one in her dreams. He was the one that gave her the strength to go forward. He was the one who fought to find her.

Her soul mate.

Her husband.

“…as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” she said.

“Arik, do you take this woman to be your wife…”

Wife. Maybe soon a mother. The very idea excited her. She watched his lips as he repeated the minister’s words.

They commanded men. They planned the future. They teased.

They loved.

They were hers.

“…as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” he said.

“Arik, your vows, please.”

Arik held her hand and spoke his vows in a strong yet tender voice only to her. “In your eyes, I have found my home. In your heart, I have found my love. In your soul, I have found my mate. With you, I am whole, full, alive. You make me laugh. And aye, try my patience. You are my breath, my very heartbeat. I am yours. You are mine. Of this we are certain. You are in my heart and you must stay there forever.”

He had selected each word and phrase with care. She knew they came from his heart.

“Rebeka, your vows.”

She’d crafted her vows the same way. “You are my inspiration and my passion. You are the magick of my days. You help me laugh, you taught me to love. You provide a safe place for me, unlike anything I’ve ever known. You support me to be myself. Every day I love you more. I am yours. You are mine. Of this we are certain. You are in my heart and you must stay there forever.”

Arik took the combs out of her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. She gave her head a shake to help it along. He ran his fingers through it and she imagined she would die from his touch. The smirk on his face told her he knew he was driving her wild. She lowered her eyes and when she glanced at him under her thick fan of eyelashes she swore he moaned.

The minister coughed to cover his laugh. He held the two rings. “From the earliest times, the circle has been the symbol of completeness. It represents a commitment of love that is never ending. When you see these rings on your fingers may it remind you of the commitment you made to each other today.”

They repeated the minister’s words and exchanged rings.

“You have made your promises, exchanged vows and wear each other’s ring as a sign of that commitment and you have done so before this gathering of your family and friends. Therefore I declare you husband and wife. Arik, you may kiss your bride.”

She’d floated toward him on a cloud. No one else mattered in the room. The minister was mumbling something to him but he didn’t hear.

She stood next to him now, her fragrance so familiar, lavender with a hint of rose. George put her hand in his. Her pulse fluttered like a nervous bird. He drew small circles on her wrist to help soothe her. He said his vows gazing into her eyes, into her soul, telling her how he loved her and would always be with her.

Forever.

When he took the combs out of her hair and it tumbled down, the soft, silky feel made it difficult to not pull her up the stairs. How they teased each other. His heart squeezed even tighter, if that was possible. The exchange of rings complete, he waited for the minister’s final words. He took her in his arms and kissed her slowly and thoroughly. When they moved apart someone was pounding his back with congratulations.

The rest of the evening was a blur as they moved from one group to another, one more toast and more good wishes. Glasses of wine mysteriously appeared in their hands, food on their plates. The students helped the household staff, played music and sang songs. The manor staff kept the platters and glasses filled.

A soft melancholy came over him as he imagined Logan and his nieces among the crowd. He buried the notion and as the night wore on someone started their MP3 player and moved the party to the twenty-first century.

Hours later, their guests gone, he relaxed with Rebeka by the hearth in the tower room, a mug of wine in hand. Rebeka’s gown was draped over a chair along with his coat and shirt. She was next to him in her nightshirt, yawning.

“Tired?” He took another sip of wine and shared the glass with her.

“It’s been a long day. I hadn’t expected everyone to come nor stay so late.” He pulled her close. “It was a wonderful wedding. Joan seems to be taking our marriage well. She’s infatuated with you. It was good of you to dance with her.”

“Yes, it was, m’lady. She asked if I had a brother.” He smiled.

Rebeka leaned forward. “She didn’t.”

“Yes, she did. I told her he was taken but I would keep watch for someone else for her.” Him, a matchmaker? He shook his head at the idea.

“Actually, the major may be a good match.” She took a sip of his wine. He watched the ideas race across her face.

“Let nature take its course. They’re close enough here to get to know each other. Right now I prefer to think about other natural things, like taking my bride to bed.” He got to his feet and held out his hand.

“Helen said she would have breakfast for us in the morning.” She walked into his arms.

He gave her a devilish grin he knew would send her heart racing. “I told her maybe by lunch.”

Rebeka was at her computer searching online archives for any information concerning the proclamation. Five days. Five days was all they had left. She had exhausted all the manor documents and royal archives. George and Angus had managed to get permission for her to access several private archives that were promising. She had a team of her students researching online. Nothing.

“Excuse me, Dr. Tyler.”

Rebeka raised her head from her computer. “Yes?”

Joan entered the library.

“I wanted to drop this off on my way to class. I found this at the bottom of one of the document drawers. It’s a photo.” Joan placed an envelope on the library table. Rebeka peeked inside the envelope then pulled out a picture.

Rebeka blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She was staring at a photo of an old woman at a ceremony, smiling cheerfully, holding a framed parchment with a distinctive blue seal. The shock of discovery stunned her.

She turned the envelope over and a neatly cut newspaper article with the same photo fluttered to the table.

“Were there any other stray items?” She read the article and felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile.

“No. I did a thorough review and made certain there weren’t any other surprises.” Joan looked at her cell phone. “I’ll be late for class.”

“Go ahead. Thanks for dropping this off.” Joan left and closed the door behind her.

The newspaper article was dated May 1, 2008. The caption on the photo didn’t say anything about the document. It mentioned that Lady Emily stood in front of the hearth in the Great Hall and that the unique tapestry over the hearth dated back to the early 1600s.

She scanned the article, skipping the guest list of scholars and politicians, anxiously searching for information. The blue seal was too coincidental. This had to be about the proclamation.

“Lady Emily Parsons, heir to the Parsons family fortune, celebrated her ninetieth birthday today at her beloved home, Fayne Manor…”

She wasn’t interested in the luncheon that was served or the royals that sent her good wishes. She was almost at the end of the article when her heart skipped a beat.

“Lady Emily’s birthday coincides with the 1,130th anniversary of the establishment of Fayne Manor by her ancestor Mannis and Alfred the Great. She was kind enough to show this reporter a copy of the royal proclamation recently authorized by the Royal Society following the authentication of her claim. The proclamation was found among the papers she turned over to the National Trust for review.”

Rebeka let out a nervous laugh. There was enough information here for George to use with the National Trust. She wanted to kiss Lady Emily for so many reasons. Once again she had saved the day.

She pulled out her cell phone, took a picture of the photo and the news article and sent it to Arik.

She examined Lady Emily’s picture and tried to find the family resemblance. Staring back at her were violet eyes. “How can I ever thank you for searching for me? Giving me a family? Giving me Arik?” She was still studying the picture when Arik came through the terrace door.

“I sent your message on to George. He didn’t remember the picture.” She gave him the photo. When he finished studying it he turned to her. “She’s a handsome woman. You have her eyes.” He handed her back the photo and took the envelope.

“I sent the pictures to Louise. I think this is enough to prove the manor’s authenticity.”

“What’s this?” Arik pulled a small newspaper article out of the envelope. “This is dated November 30, 2010.”

“That’s two weeks after Lady Emily’s death.” She glanced over Arik’s shoulder as he read.

“Following the recent death of Lady Emily Parsons, a claim has been made against the estate as to the legitimacy of the family’s title based on information dating back to the early 1600s.”

“We need to find the family records to prove the line of succession. Someone must have the records from 1570 to 1670.”

Her cell phone rang. “Hello, this is Rebeka Tyler…Oh, Louise.” She put the photo and the first article back into the envelope. She pressed the phone against her thigh. “That was quick,” she said to Arik and put the phone against her ear. “Yes, among other documents…Sure, I don’t mind bringing it over…” She slipped the envelope into her backpack. “With traffic at this time of day, if I left now it would take me about an hour to get to your Avebury office…Okay…See you then.” She clicked off her phone and put on her backpack.

“While you’re there you might want to stop at the architect’s office and get the final plans for the village. They should be ready today.” He gave her a light kiss on her lips. She scooted out of his grasp when he tried to pull her into his arms.

“No,” she laughed. “I’ll never get to Avebury.” She planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek and danced out of the room carrying her staff.

Rebeka passed through the dimly lit lobby of the National Trust’s annex, a combination warehouse and offices. She climbed the stairs and rounded the corner to Louise’s outer office. The secretary, her coat on and keys in hand, was in the process of closing her desk light and looked up. “May I help you? Oh, Dr. Tyler.”

“Is it that late?” Rebeka glanced at the large wall clock surprised the office was closing before 1:00 p.m.

“Oh, no. With everyone else gone Ms. Richards told me to take the rest of the day. She’s in her office. You can go right in.”

Rebeka opened the solid mahogany door and stepped inside. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light cast by the single brass desk lamp. The large wood-paneled room had high ceilings. A variety of bookcases lined two walls. A sideboard stocked with glasses and a liter bottle of soda was on the third wall. Across from her was a pedestal desk situated between two floor-to-ceiling windows. The drapes, tied back with a thick decorative rope, exposed closed shutters that threw the room into total darkness. In front of the desk were two chairs and a small table. Open packing boxes stood on the desk and table waiting to be filled.

“Louise?” Rebeka glanced around the room.

The desk chair swiveled. “You made it here in record time.”

“The traffic gods were with me,” Rebeka said. “You going someplace?” She motioned to the boxes. She peered at the woman. “Are you alright? You appear flushed.” She came closer to the desk to get a better look.

“I’m fine. I wanted to tell you in person that I’m leaving the Trust. I’ve recently come into some money—you know how that is—and I’m tying up some loose ends.”

“How wonderful for you.” This was sudden, but she could understand not being one of the “in” crowd—at least she could understand intellectually.

“Did you bring it with you?” The chilled tone in Louise’s voice made her hesitant.

“I think the article has enough information regarding the proclamation for the Trust.” The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in warning. Louise’s quarterstaff leaned against the wall. She never kept her staff in her office. She was adamant about never mixing that part of her life with her office persona.

Rebeka removed her staff from the leather straps and propped it against the chair next to her. “Would you like to see it?” She had a feeling Louise was playing a game of cat and mouse and Louise had not cast her as the cat.

Louise came from behind the desk. “Show me.” Her features were a stone mask.

Arik was at the library table with his tablet. Perhaps the documents were scanned and the original boxes misplaced. He browsed the manor library index. Rebeka’s students had done a fine job of organizing and building the references. They even created links to documents in other libraries. Would he ever get used to the advances of this era? He knew and almost understood the technology, but his seventeenth-century mind still found it…magical.

He searched through the findings. It included the research commissioned by Lady Emily. He read through copies of the county and church records searching for any mention of the family name or reference to family members.

Again nothing between 1570 and 1670.

He needed to find milestone events—births, christenings, deaths, marriages…

Skylar and Robert. Of course. George said his niece married Stuart’s nephew. If he couldn’t find evidence of his line, perhaps he could through Stuart’s. He picked up the phone and dialed Cora.

“Cora. I need to confirm Skylar and Robert’s marriage. I can’t find any records at the manor. I hope you have something there among Stuart’s papers.”

“Of course I’ll help you if I can.” He could hear the click of her high heels as she crossed the marble floor. “What’s the urgency?”

“The document should give—”

“—her lineage, of course, and name the manor. Brilliant. Give me a minute. I’m in the library.”

“Arik.” George knocked on the library door. Arik waved him in.

“Cora, George just came in. Let me put you on speaker.” He turned to George. “I think we can substantiate the manor using Skylar and Robert’s marriage papers. Where would we find them?”

“Stuart’s journals are in the bookcase next to the fireplace, in chronological order.”

“I’m in the library,” Cora said. “We should look after 1610.”

“No, look for 1606,” directed Arik with a firm voice.

“But that’s the year you left. You would have known if Skylar was getting married,” Cora said.

“I have my reasons,” was all he would offer.

“Wait a minute while I get the book.” He heard some shuffling. Couldn’t the woman move any faster? He calmed himself; they’d waited this long and a few more minutes wouldn’t change anything.

“Here it is.” He caught the sound of shuffling papers.

“Oh.” Cora sniffled. “I’ll…I’ll read it to you. ‘April 15. This day did not bode well for my Logan. Bran has gathered his forces and threatens Fayne Manor. Logan brought Aubrey and Skylar here for Father’s safekeeping several days ago.’”

“This must be Holly’s writing,” Arik said.

“‘Father and Mother have taken them to London for their protection. Word has been sent for them to make haste and return. I’m certain Father will bring much-needed troops. Logan and Robert will not let me deplete the garrison here.

“‘A new priest arrived for his monthly visit before they left. Skylar begged Logan to let her and Robert marry before Robert returned to the manor. The sweet man can deny her nothing. He is so much like Arik. He granted her wish. They were married before Father left for London. Although the priest was ill prepared with the appropriate papers, Logan made sure he wrote everything out. The good priest said he would make everything right when he returned to the church in Avebury.’”

Arik slapped the desk. “That’s where we go, Avebury.”

“You knew about Bran’s attack on the manor.” He wasn’t surprised at George’s concern. The two worlds were as real to George and Cora as they were to him and Rebeka.

“I wasn’t certain but I had my suspicions.” He was confident he had the information he needed. “Cora, read through the journals there and see if you can find more about what’s happened.”

“Yes, Avebury is where we’ll find Skylar and Robert’s documents. I’ll go with you.” A low, incessant buzz distracted George. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “George Hughes here. Yes, Detective…What…Yes…Thank you.” He ended the call.

“You’re not going to believe this. Those thugs who beat Bill and set fire to the mill, they identified who hired them. Louise Richards. Scotland Yard is getting a warrant for her arrest.”

Arik froze. “Louise called Rebeka and asked her to come to the Avebury annex.” He pushed her speed-dial number on his phone. He glanced at the time. “She should be there by now.” He tapped his fingers on the desk while the call went through.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Rebeka Tyler. I can’t come to the phone right now—”

He dialed again. Someone picked up but no one answered.

“I’m on with Scotland Yard,” George said. “They’ll meet us there. But they’re not close.”

“Cora, you stay where you are. If Rebeka calls, contact me at once. George and I are on our way to Avebury.”

“I will. Be careful,” she said. The call ended.

Rebeka reached into her backpack. The blue light on her cell phone pulsed, announcing an incoming call. She fumbled to send it to voice mail. The blinking stopped. She took out the envelope and gave it to Louise and set her backpack on the chair.

Louise glanced at the photo and the news article.

“I can bring this to the Board for their review. It does appear promising,” Louise said, lifting her head.

“We missed you at the wedding.”

“Under the circumstances I decided it best to remain home. Besides, I informed the Trust of my intentions and I was busy making plans. I’m certain you understand.” Louise’s lips twisted into a cynical smile.

There was a defiant tone in Louise’s voice. “Of course. Will I be meeting your replacement?” She shot a look around the room.

“No, not today. Since today is my last day I thought we would have one more go at it before I left.” She picked up her quarterstaff. “For old time’s sake, as you Americans like to say. Besides, wouldn’t you like to know which of us is the best?”

Rebeka tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her brows. Louise’s low, guttural voice had the menacing quality of a tiger ready to strike. “I didn’t know that was important.”