Lois Greiman (32 page)

“She is a lady.”

“Don’t tell the lad,” Burr rumbled. “He thinks her a woman with a heart.”

Nicol shook his head but returned to the main focus. “You know Megs?”

“I’ve not met the little scrapper. But I know of her.”

“What do you know?”

The Viking squinted. “A good deal.”

Hope swelled in Nicol’s soul. It was difficult to breathe. Harder yet to think. “Such as?”

Burr shrugged. “She stole the lad’s brooch.” His lips twitched. It might have been a smile. “He was fit to be hanged.” He actually chuckled now, apparently entertained by the thought of his lord’s anger.

“What else can you tell me?”

The eyes narrowed again. “Why do you wish to know?”

A thousand thoughts ripped through Nicol’s mind, but vanity won out. “She stole the princess’s crown.”

Their gazes held tight for a long moment, then the Viking shrugged again. “I can’t help you, lad.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

He smiled, belligerence showing in every hard line. “Won’t.”

“I’ll pay you,” Nicol said, and Burr laughed as he tilted his head toward the chamber just exited.

“The lass inside offered me coin, too.”

Frustration warred with desperation in Nicol’s soul. “The lass inside is the princess of Sedonia.”

“Is she now?” said the Viking, his face impassive. “And does that make her more important than the wee thief you’re searching for?”

“It does to Sedonia.”

“How about to you, lad?”

“I am not a lad, Viking,” he said, but suddenly his mind clicked on something spoken minutes before. “You said as far as he knew.”

“What’s that, laddie?”

“You said, so far as the lad knows, Megs is naught but an honest thief.”

“Did I?”

“What did you mean?”

“Things are rarely what they seem.”

“What did you mean?” he repeated.

The Viking eyed him up and down. “Seems to me, the wee lass has enough troubles without being hounded by a rich dandy like yourself.”

“Dammit!” Nicol swore and temporarily losing his mind, grabbed a hank of the giant’s vest. “Tell me what you know.”

The door beside them opened, and Anna stepped through, followed by MacTavish.

The Viking nodded, not bothering to remove Nicol’s fist from his vest. “Lassie,” he greeted, “I hear you’re a princess.”

She smiled, full force and beaming, not like the princess at all, but like a woman in love. “And I hear you’ve enraged my unflappable advisor.”

He didn’t even glance at Nicol. “Aye. I believe I have.”

“May I ask how?”

“He wants to know where to find the wee thief.”

“Tell me where she is, Goddammit!” Nicol growled.

Burr grinned. “He seemed quite concerned.”

“Perhaps you should tell him then.”

The Viking shrugged. “I’ve no way of knowing why he wishes to locate her.”

“You could ask him.”

“I did, but the next thing I know he’s hanging on to me vest like a hungry hound.”

“Nicol,” Anna said. “Let Burroun go.”

He did so slowly, finding his wits and feeling a bit foolish as he did so.

“And tell him the truth,” Anna added softly.

“The truth,” Nicol said, “is that I was ordered to find the girl since she escaped not only with the royal crown, but a good deal of jewelry. Not to mention my buttons!”

Every soul within hearing turned to stare at him.

Nicol cleared his throat. “She’s a thief,” he explained lamely.

Anna stared at him for some seconds, her expression serene, then she turned back toward the Viking. “He wants to find her because he’s in love with her.”

“He didn’t say as much.”

“Men are sometimes slow to share their feelings. I’ve seen it happen before.”

The Viking drew a hard breath through his nostrils. His half-bare chest expanded like bellows. “Come, lad,” he said. “We shall share what we know of life and wee thieves.”

M
egan wiped down a table. A drunken tanner reached for her, but it was late, and he was slow. In less than ten minutes she had shooed out the last patron and locked the doors.

Her own inn. Her own property. She had purchased it only a month before. Finding this place, this quiet inn in a little known Teleerian village had been the difficult part. It had taken her most of eight months, but paying for it had been simple, for she had the princess’s jewels. The crown she had kept. Even now it was hidden safely away. She didn’t know why. Someday she would pry out the gems and sell them, of course. Someday, when she could bear to do such things. But for now she would leave matters as they were. Except clean.

She glanced around the common room. Empty tankards remained on every table. Beer stained the floor. She should clean it now. But she was tired. Weary to the bone.

“Why?”

She shrieked as she spun about and there, standing on the bottom stair was the viscount of Newburn.

“How did you find me?” Her heart was pounding in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. He looked tired and dirty. His boots were caked with mud, and his cloak was stained. His face was whiskered, and his eyes…Her heart hitched in her chest, but she hardened it carefully. “Why did you come?”

He pushed away from the wall, heading toward her. “I would have paid you as I promised.”

She shrugged, watching him, calming her heart. “We can call it even.”

“Even!” He jerked toward her, and she stepped back, putting a table between them. “You think us even?”

“Yes,” she said, and lifted her chin, careful to keep her head, to keep her distance, lest she fall too hard to recover. “I do.”

“You stole my—” he began, and stopped. His mouth twitched. “You stole Anna’s crown.”

“And you stole my life.” The words hissed out, too close to the surface, too close to the truth.

“Aye, well…” He swept his hand sideways, indicating the room in which they stood. “It looks as if you’ve traded up.”

She shrugged. “’Tis hardly a palace. But it is mine, and it—”

“Then why didn’t you stay if you wanted a palace?” His voice was rife with frustration.

“Stay?” She snapped off a laugh. “And do what? Pretend to be your Anna’s long-lost twin?”

He was silent for a moment. “You could have said good-bye,” he said finally. “I think I deserved that much.”

“I—”

“Jack deserved that much.”

She winced and twisted her hands together. “How is he?”

“He’s gone. Disappeared shortly after you did, but at least he had the courtesy to leave a note.”

She remained silent, unable to utter the obvious question.

“He said he went to find the princess.”

“The princess.” Her words were no more than a whisper. “But she was there. At the palace.”

Nicol shrugged, but his expression was tight. “He didn’t seem to think so. Seemed to think, in fact, that we had all duped him. On the other hand, his penmanship was excellent.”

“He’s gone,” she murmured.

“Will is searching for him, but surely you cannot blame the lad for leaving,” he said. “Since you did the same thing.”

She said nothing.

“I am told the Barneses mysteriously received a handsome new steed at Woodlea.”

“Truly?”

“And that Allard suddenly came into a small fortune.”

“How nice.”

“He and Lady Mary plan to wed.”

“All is going well without me then.”

“No.” He said and shook his head. “It is not. Why did you go?”

Frustration burned through her. “I left…” she began, but she stopped herself before it was too late. Before too much truth was spilled.

“Tell me why.”

“You didn’t need me anymore. My job was done.”

“You’re wrong.”

There was something about his tone that made her heart twist, but she dared not care. “Leave me be, viscount. I’ve done all you’ve asked.”

“No,” he said and shaking his head, took a step toward her. “You have not.”

“Leave off!” she rasped. “For I won’t be goin’ back with the likes of you. Ye can’t make me.”

He kept coming. She backed away.

“Get out, or I swear I shall spill the truth to any who wish to ’ear it.”

“Oh? And what truth is that, lass?” he asked and rounded the table.

She was backed against the wall and raised her chin. A flash of nostalgia leapt into his eyes, but he kept coming.

“Don’t you be coming a step closer.”

He did. “What will you tell them, lass? That you are the king’s own daughter?”

She felt herself go pale, felt her knees buckle. “What?”

“I’ve met some interesting people since you left,” he said. “Laird MacTavish for one. It seems he mistook Anna for an Irish pickpocket when first she arrived on his shores. It seems he mistook her for you.”

She shook her head, though she wasn’t sure why.

“But though she looked like a thief, she didn’t speak like a thief. She didn’t act like a thief. Thus, he began to wonder. So he learned all he could about Teleere’s Magical Megs.”

“Dear God.”

“I fear Laird MacTavish’s spies are more adept than my own.”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she said. “But they’re lies.”

“I heard that the old king had an illegitimate child.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“The mother was a washerwoman. A rare beauty, I’m told.”

Her throat hurt.

“She gave birth to a baby girl in the spring of 1797. The king never knew he—”

“He knew!” she spat. She realized she should have re
mained quiet, but the words were spilled, and she did not care.

Nicol narrowed his eyes, watching her closely. “I was told—”

“You were told wrong.” She was breathing hard, and her chest ached. “Mum was already sick when she went to him. She loved him, worshipped him, but he couldn’t be bothered. He had a son. Two, in fact. What did he care for a skinny urchin of uncertain birth?”

“Lassie. I’m—”

“Leave me alone,” she whispered. “I’m nothing to you.”

“Nothing?” The word sounded hollow, empty, as if it were devoid of meaning. “I’ve thought about nothing but you since the day you left. I’ve spent…” He chuckled. The sound was weak. “Nine months. Nine…searching in every hovel in every village in every country I could imagine.”

Her chest felt cramped. “Because I have the crown.”

He watched her, his gaze hot and intent, his mouth unsmiling. “Because you have my heart,” he whispered.

“Love hurts, viscount,” she rasped. “Love kills. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Love heals, lass. I’ve seen that. Seen it in Anna’s eyes. Seen it—”

“I’m not an heiress, Nicol. No matter what you believe, I will never be princess.”

He laughed now, like a man gone mad, like a man set free. Gone was his cool nonchalance. And in its place was a desperate man with budding hopefulness. “Is that what you think? Is that what you believe? That I want a princess?”

Silence again, then, “What do you want?”

“You.” The single word fell softly into the silence.

She shook her head, trying to denounce it, but his gaze held her trapped.

“I want the thief who stole my watch. I want the princess who stole the crown.” His voice softened to a whisper. “I want the lady who stole my heart.”

She tried to escape then, tried to run, but he caught her by the arm.

She twisted away, desperate to be free, to be gone, to keep from believing. “I am no lady, Nicol.”

“You are more lady than any I have met.”

She jerked out of his grasp. “Well, I don’t want to be. Nobility!” She spat the word. “They use and discard and defile.”

“So you stole from them.”

Her head hurt. “Aye. I stole. Took a little back of what they took from me.”

He drew a deep breath. “So now you wish to be a pauper.”

“I wish to make my own way. To live honestly. To—”

“Good. Then I shall do the same.”

She blinked at him.

“I shall work for you, lass. You can pay me what you see fit.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re—”

“A lord?” He laughed. “My father was a penniless womanizer. A grubby low-titled bastard without a soul to redeem him. My brother was worse. I knew Ernest planned to kill Father. I knew it, and I did nothing to stop it. Nothing, until it was too late. What does that make me?”

“A viscount?” she said, and he laughed.

“Then you’re a princess.”

“I’m not—”

“You are in my eyes.”

“Nicol—”

“Marry me.”

She gasped like a child. “I…I can’t…”

“You must.”

“I don’t—”

“You do.”

“What would I…” She was shaken, rattled, breathless. “What would I do with the inn?”

He touched her cheek and moved closer. “I don’t care. Sell it. Live here with me. Give it away.”

“Give it away!” she gasped, appalled and breathless. “Do you know what I paid for it?”

“A crown?” he guessed. His eyes were smiling. She felt her muscles go weak even before he kissed the corner of her mouth.

“No,” she whispered.

“No?”

“I kept the crown.”

The smile had reached his lips. He eased his fingers around the back of her neck. “You sentimental fool.”

“I missed you a bit.”

“Did you?”

She closed her eyes. “But I won’t be your lackey.”

“Lackey?”

“I’ll speak ’owever I like.”

“
How
—”

“’Owever!”

He grinned. “Whatever you say.”

“And we’ll tell no one who my father was.”

“I didn’t even know you had a father.”

She paused and shivered. “And we’ll sell this hideous inn.”

He laughed out loud and swung her into his arms.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“You own my soul,” he murmured, and kissed her.

She smiled, her heart filled to brimming. “And your watches.”

“Yes,” he carried her across the floor. “I was wondering if I might have them back.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can I have my buttons?”

“I’ve become rather attached to them.”

“Can I take you to bed?”

“Anytime,” she whispered, and kissed him.

He returned the caress, his lips warm and firm against hers. “Then I win,” he murmured, and carried her up the stairs two at a time.