Kiss of the Rose (21 page)

“Where have you been, my lady?”

It was typical of Rhys to cut to the heart of the mat-ter. “I spent the day with Margaret and her husband. Didn’t I tell you that yesterday?”

“I can’t remember.” Rhys frowned as if her vain attempt to distract him had worked. He shoved a hand through his thick auburn hair. “I can’t remember anything that happened before Elias Warner bit me.”

“Bit you?” Rosalind grabbed his arm and peered anxiously at his throat. “He
fed
from you? Why?”

Rhys set her away from him, his expression grim. “What exactly do you remember about last night?”

Rosalind forced herself to meet his gaze. “I went to the stones. I danced, I prayed to the gods, and I woke up in my bed.” She hesitated. “Did you put me there?”

“No.”

“Then who did?”

“Elias Warner, or so he claims. Do you remember anyone else?”

She fought a betraying tremor in her voice. “You still haven’t told me what happened to you.”

Rhys sighed and massaged the side of his neck. “I don’t think Elias drank from me. If he had, I’m sure I’d feel far worse today than I actually do. And I believe he was more concerned with convincing Sir Christopher to come after you than with drinking my blood.”

“Why would he do that?” Rosalind whispered.

Rhys met her gaze.“Perhaps you can tell me. Did you see him?”

“Sir Christopher? I saw him at the queen’s party.”

A muscle flicked in Rhys’s cheek. “And later?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he find you at the sacred circle?”

Rosalind slowly let out her breath. “I think I saw him watching me while I danced, but I can’t be sure.” She offered an apologetic smile. “You know how potent the herbal potion can be, and the smoke from the bonfire. I was quite oblivious of everything except the ritual.”

That, at least, was the truth. She’d completed the ritual, gloried in it at the time, but there was no need for Rhys to know the details until she had straightened things out with Christopher.

Rhys studied her so intently she wanted to squirm like a worm on a hook.“Why do I get the sense that you are not telling me the truth, Rosalind?”

She raised her chin. “I am telling you everything I remember clearly.” Another lie. She would never forget Christopher moving over her, the strange sensation when he’d pushed inside her, the sounds of their mingled desire…

Rhys stepped back and bowed, his face shuttered as if she had been the one to slam the door shut. “We will speak more on this.”

“I’m sure we will.” Rosalind pretended to dust down her brown silk skirts.“You have never been easy to please.”

“Or for you to lie to.”

He didn’t even smile at her attempt to lighten his spirits. Had he somehow guessed that she was no longer a maiden? Did it show in her eyes and on her face? She turned back toward the palace and kept walking, Rhys at her side.

“Sir Christopher and Elias are looking for you as well.”

“Were you all worried about me?”

“Of course we were. Even Elias.”

“Only because he wants me to catch his Vampire and fears that you and Sir Christopher cannot do it without me.”

Rhys didn’t smile. “I believe Sir Christopher and I would manage quite well. But Elias is far too interested in you, my lady. I know he wants you to kill the rogue Vampire, but it is more than that.”

Rosalind shivered as she imagined the Vampire’s soft white hands on her as he put her to bed. “In truth, I try not to think about him too much, but I will be careful.” She reached the door of the queen’s suite and turned to face Rhys. “I’m sorry for worrying you today.”

He bowed. “You’ve been doing that your whole life and I always come back for more. Don’t I?” He managed the ghost of a smile. “I’ll see you later tonight at the usual place.”

“Indeed.” She watched him leave with a leaden ache in her heart that refused to go away. When he found out what had really happened in the stone circle, would he still want her? She doubted it. Even worse, she did not know if she wanted him to.

With a silent prayer, Rosalind picked up her skirts and ascended the stairs to her room, her steps heavy and her mood unsettled. She opened the door and saw Christopher’s long, lean frame stretched out on her bed, one arm cradling his head, his booted feet crossed at the ankle.

“What are you doing in my room?” Rosalind gasped.

Christopher shot to his feet in one fluid motion. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

She almost turned to flee as images of his naked body seared through her senses. He flung out a hand and closed the door behind her. She was glad to lean against it to support her shaking legs.

“I spent the morning with Margaret and her husband in London.”

“Why?”

“Because they asked me to. Why not?”

“Didn’t it occur to you that after last night, Rhys and I would be worried about you?”

“I assumed you and Rhys would be able to protect the king without me for a few hours.” She tried to read his face. Did he even remember what had happened? Should she try to bluff her way out of it? “Rhys said that Elias bit him.”

“That’s true.”

“Why did he do that?”

His mouth twisted. “I assume it was to stop Rhys from attending the Beltaine celebration, although I’m still not sure why.”

Rosalind licked her lips. “Rhys said he was unconscious for hours.”

“So I believe.” He nodded.“You have seen him, then? I found him at the stables this morning and he had no idea what had happened to you. He was very concerned.”

Something hot and angry stirred in her chest. “And were you not concerned as well?”

“By the saints, you know I was.”

She looked up at him. “Why is that?”

“Because I deflowered you on the pagan altar. Don’t you remember that, or have you conveniently chosen to forget it?”

“I remember,” she whispered, unable to drop her gaze from his. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Is that what usually happens? Some unsuspecting youth is drugged and forced to participate in a Druid fertility rite without his consent, only to wake up and remember nothing of what was done to him? Or was there more to it this time, because you and I were destined to fulfill this damned prophecy and become one?”

Her anger died, to be replaced by the taste of ashes. “I…” She looked down at the floor.

He took a step toward her and put his fingers under her chin.“I didn’t mean that. I’m no callow youth. I knew exactly what I was doing and what I wanted.” He drew an unsteady breath. “The question is, did you?”

She swallowed hard and stared at the small ruff at his throat. “Do you think I lured you to the altar deliberately?”

“I don’t know.” His quiet answer made her want to weep.

“I didn’t know I was the Chosen. No woman does until the moment the gods make their decision. And I didn’t know who would be chosen to mate with me.”

He nodded. “I’ll have to take your word for that. But there is something else to discuss, is there not?”

She risked another glance at his face and wished she hadn’t. “What would that be?”

“The fact that you were a maiden.”

“Of course I was. The Chosen always are.”

“You let me believe that you and Rhys were lovers.”

She jerked her chin away from his fingers. “I did not say so. You decided that by yourself, sir.”

“But I would like to think that if I’d known you were a virgin, I would not have followed you to that altar.”

“So you are suggesting that this is my fault, then? That you are the innocent here?”

“No! By the saints, stop twisting my words!” He slammed his hands on the door behind her head, caging her in. “I
said
I would like to think that I would’ve walked away from temptation, but somehow I doubt it.” He grimaced. “I wanted you too badly. I am at fault. I have despoiled you.”

“You did nothing I did not want.”

He frowned down at her.“How can you say that when you have been deprived of your maidenhead and your chance to make a decent marriage?”

“I was deprived of nothing. I freely offered it up in the service of my gods.”

“That is all very well, but your gods are not here to safeguard you from the gossips on English soil.”

“Who will gossip? Only you and I were there, and I’m not planning on telling anyone else— are you?”

He stared down at her, his brow furrowed and his eyes full of concern. “I should be down on my knees offering to marry you.”

She almost smiled. “As if your family would let you marry a Llewellyn and live.”

“But— ”

She covered his mouth with her fingers. “You need not worry about me. For my kin, marrying a woman who has been singled out by the gods is an honor, not a curse.”

He stepped back from her so suddenly she flinched. “Rhys said that you were destined to become his wife, no matter what happened. Is that what he meant?”

She managed a shrug. “These are our ways. You cannot understand.”

A muscle flicked in Christopher’s cheek. “I don’t want you to marry him.”

“I don’t think that is any of your business, is it?”

He picked her up and reversed their positions so that he was standing beside the door. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “It is my business if you carry my child. You must swear to tell me if that is the case.”

Rosalind bit down hard on her lip. “It makes no difference to our situation, does it? You still cannot marry me.”

“And yet you let me make love to you.”

“I did what the ritual demanded. Can’t you see that?”

“No, I can’t.” He shook his head and opened the door, then hesitated. “And what if I hadn’t got to you in time? Would you have been as willing to take any other man?”

“That isn’t fair,” she whispered.

“I know that, and yet I can’t help thinking about it.” He nodded. “Good evening, my lady.”

Rosalind sank down onto the bed and listened as his booted feet clomped down the stairs. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. It was stupid to feel hurt and vulnerable. She’d told him the truth, she was proud of being chosen by the gods. It was an honor such as she’d never dared imagine. But a part of her worried that her faith was not pure, for she doubted she would feel the same if it had been any man but Christopher. He’d been everything she had desired and more. Had the gods known that? Known that he was truly the one man whom she wanted in her heart?

Tears trickled down her face. Was it the gods’ kindness or cruelty to give her this taste of ecstasy knowing she would never have it again?

Christopher knew as well as she did that there was no future for them. After all, he had said he
ought to
marry her; he hadn’t actually asked her. Not that she would have said yes, but…

She wiped at the tears that slid down her cheeks, and vowed to put this silliness behind her. She still had a Vampire to catch.

Chapter 15

“T
his isn’t working, Rhys.” Frustrated, Christopher opened his eyes and glared at Rhys, who was whittling at a piece of wood with the blade of his dagger. “It makes no sense.” They were sitting in the ruined shell of the ancient Roman bathhouse beside the stables, waiting for the light to fade to blackness.

“You are trying too hard. Just relax and try again.”

Christopher gave up the effort and sat back.“Do you think she’ll come?”

Rhys looked up. “Rosalind or the Vampire?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“Rosalind will come.”

“And I suppose I might have a warning of the Vampire’s arrival in my head.” Christopher shuddered at the very thought. He pictured the Vampire settled in the darkest corner of his skull like an adder waiting to strike.

“I was thinking of the
other
Vampire, Elias Warner.”

Christopher tried to smile. “Of him, I have no notion. If he does turn up, I might be tempted to bloody his nose.”

Rhys scowled and rubbed the side of his neck. “You may have his remains after I’ve finished with him.”

Christopher’s gaze slid over Rhys’s shoulder and settled on Rosalind, who had just entered the building. She wore her boy’s garb, and her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight braid. Even though she’d made it abundantly clear that their lovemaking had merely been a matter of circumstance, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her. She looked back at him, her gaze wary and unsure.

Lust slammed through him with a force that startled him. He wanted her underneath him again, her hair unbound and curling around his skin, her luscious mouth open as she gasped his name and screamed her pleasure. In his soul, he knew his feelings had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with need.

As if unaware of the dangerous current of emotion eddying around him, Rhys patted the stone beside him. “My lady, come and sit down. Before we leave to patrol the grounds, we need to help Sir Christopher build his defenses against the Vampire.”

Without speaking, Rosalind joined them and sat down, her hands clenched on her lap, her booted feet lined up together on the broken tiles.

“I was trying to explain to Sir Christopher how to build a barrier in his mind.”

Rosalind nodded. “What you need to do is pretend you are building a wall made with bricks. Imagine each brick, picture it clearly, and place it onto a line inside your head.”

“A line.”

Rosalind glanced at him and then looked away. “Think of it as the boundary that separates the good in you from the evil of the Vampire.”

Christopher closed his eyes and pictured the edge of the darkness in his thoughts. He carefully laid out a row of bricks and then another. After a short while he blinked. “But won’t this wall of mine trap the Vampire within my head?”

“You have to see the wall as keeping the Vampire
out
rather than bricking her in.”

“Ah…” Christopher concentrated again and slowly reversed his view of his brick wall. Ridiculous as it seemed, he could see it holding the darkness at bay, protecting his thoughts and inner goodness. “I have it.”

“Good,” Rhys said. “And you must tend to it like a zealous gardener in the spring. Keep it strong and mend any cracks, make it invincible.”