Princess In Denim (26 page)

William came to in a pile of rubble and dust. He had to brush debris from his head, out of his hair and off his face before he could safely open his eyes. Sprawled head down on a small, cramped, winding stairway, he could not fathom what the hell he was doing there. He had been in bed with Moira.

A deafening roar echoed within his ears. He started to sit up, hoping that would clear his head and help him make sense of all this mess, then realized the stones beneath him were soft, not hard. Warm, not cool.

"Moira. My love."

He moved carefully, so as not to hurt her—if she was alive. Every movement he made dislodged stones and raised more dust. He blocked them with his hands and his feet before they could smash into her lifeless body. "Moira, can you hear me?"

Ignoring his own cuts and bruises, he lifted himself off her. If anything in his own body was broken, he refused to acknowledge it. She was still. So still. He wedged his back against the wall and pulled her into his lap. He wanted to hold her, to will life back into her. As his mind cleared, he realized he should not have moved her. He felt her neck for a pulse, but found none.

A dull throb in his chest escalated into a sharp, searing pain. He did not have to look down to know that he would see nothing wrong on the outside. It was inside. He had not kept her safe. He had had her father bring her to this country, and he had not been able to protect her. He did not care if the whole world saw the tears that slipped silently down his cheek.

His heart was broken.

"Mmmm..."

"Moira?" When her fingers curled against his chest, he found it possible to laugh and cry at the same time. "Do not open your eyes yet, my love." He brushed every speck of dirt clear before he said, "It is all right now."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and he thought hazel the most beautiful color he had ever seen. He hoped their babies had that color. Not that he wanted to bring any babies into this world until he had dealt with the crazy person responsible for this mayhem.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"Yes, you broke my fall, thank you."

She snickered against his chest, reached up and softly brushed a tear from his face. "Anytime."

He heard footsteps and shouts in the distance, coming closer. His staff.

"Who did this?" He had to know. He had to hunt him down and deal with him.

"Humphrey."

William remembered Patrick swearing he had left Moira's mare, only for a moment, to help her assistant secretary. Humphrey would have had access to the chandelier over her bed, too. Pieces started to fall into place. Not answers, but pieces.

"He said...something about keeping his family safe."

Were others involved? William swore he would find the truth.

"You have a choice, my love."

"Hmm?"

"I can stay here and hold you, or I can go find the bastard who did this to you."

"Hold me."

She was too kindhearted. Perhaps he should not tell her exactly what he planned. "You will not stop me from throwing this one into the dungeon."

"Are you kidding? Throw the key into the moat this time. William..."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about your tower."

He could not care less. His tower—his whole castle—meant nothing without her. "You
are
rather hard on the antiques."

Chloe let William carry her back to their bedroom only because he was so attentive. One time, long ago, he had said he loved her, and she hadn't believed him. Now, his every action said it, and she no longer needed the words. He stood her beside the bed and peeled her clothes off with the utmost care, as if doing so would take her skin with them.

Dust fell all around her feet. "I'm going to take a shower."

"You are going to climb into this bed until the doctor checks you out."

"But I'm all dirty."

"I should never have moved you, but since I did, you will at least rest quietly until we know you are all right."

"William—"

"Get in that bed." His words were firm, but his voice sounded only of love and concern.

"Make me."

"Do not look at me like that."

"Like what?" she asked with an innocent air.

"Like you are hungry."

"Well, I haven't had breakfast yet."

"I was not talking of food, Moira."

"Neither was I."

He sighed, and she allowed him to ease her into bed, but clung to his hand until he gave in and sat beside her. She curled up against his side, beneath his arm. Emotionally, she wanted to sit on his lap and make wild, passionate love with him to celebrate their safety. Physically, her body ached and burned, and it had nothing to do with her husband's proximity.

"I will have Humphrey locked up by sunset, Moira, but until I find out who else is involved, I am afraid you are not safe. I cannot post a guard by every chandelier, and I have no bomb-sniffing dogs."

She curled tighter into him, sensing that she wasn't going to like whatever he proposed.

"I know how much you like to study and learn things. You like rocks and fossils a great deal. You stare at my art collection as if you plan to paint a masterpiece of your own. Plants and lizards fascinate you."

She had no idea where this was leading, but the steady cadence of his heartbeat beneath her ear soothed her.

"I can send you to any university you want—"

She sprang away from him. "No! Ow!"

"Moira, you must lie still."

He held out his arms in a silent invitation to curl against him again. "No. I'm not going to just curl up and die, and that's what'll happen if you send me away."

"It is for your safety."

"And what about my heart?"

He looked confused.

"I can't live without you, William."

"It is just until I can catch everyone involved."

"I won't go. Wherever you send me, I'll get on a plane and fly right back."

He eased himself off the bed, stiffly, and she realized he must be as sore as she. More so.

"Perhaps I can join you in a day or two, once I get everyone organized."

Chloe wondered what Moira had been told when she was sent away. Had she been told her father would join her, or send for her soon? Had she been lied to, as Chloe thought William was doing now?

He kissed the top of her head, the only part of her she'd let him touch. "Pull the sheet up, Moira. I will have breakfast sent to you. Anything you want."

"Strawberry pop-ups."

"Please, my chef would quit first."

She didn't watch him walk out of the room. She couldn't. It hurt too much to love him and know he'd send her away. If someone wanted to kill her so much, they'd find her and try again. Next time, someone else might get hurt. If she didn't leave, it might be William.

It could be worse. He could be killed.

When he was working for her, not against her, Humphrey hadn't impressed her as a dangerous man. He'd said his family was in danger, so she could only assume he'd been coerced into doing what he did. It didn't make her feel sorry for him or like him, but it did make her want to question him. She would, too, as soon as they had him under lock and key.

If he didn't want to provide her with answers, she knew where there was a perfectly good torture chamber, complete with a rack.

It was only a matter of hours before Moira heard that Humphrey had been given a new residence in Baesland Castle's dungeon. When she stooped beneath the lintel and entered it this time, it didn't smell so bad. Not nearly as bad as it ought to, considering where Humphrey had tried to send her with his short-fused bomb. The fact that William's life had been endangered, too, incensed her.

William was safely occupied in a cabinet meeting, along with Louis, so she had no worries that he would come along and stop her from doing what she had to do.

Patrick was on duty.

"I want to talk to Humphrey," Chloe told him.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I don't think His Majesty would allow that."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, I mean, His Majesty said the prisoner couldn't have visitors."

"I'm not a visitor."

"But—"

"I'm your queen."

He fidgeted from one foot to the other. "Yes, ma'am. I know, ma'am."

"Never mind, I remember the way." As if she couldn't find one cell in this cracker-box prison.

Patrick followed on her heels. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, Your Majesty. I asked for this duty, you know."

"Really? Why?"

"Everyone who knows me knows I'd have nothing to do with harming you, ma'am. But I want everyone else to know, too."

Chloe found Humphrey in the third cell—the dankest, darkest corner of the dungeon. "Hello, Humphrey."

"Your Majesty! Oh, thank God you're all right."

Oh, puh-lease.
"No thanks to you."

"He made me, Your Majesty. I swear. I love my wife, my children. He said I'd never see them again if I didn't get rid of you."

"Who, Humphrey?"

"I can't say."

"You'd better."

"No, I can't. My children, you see. He'll harm them for sure."

"Is he holding them somewhere?"

"No."

"Does he have someone else watching them?"

"I don't know."

Her own fuse was growing short. "Well, are you just going to sit in there and worry about them, or are you going to do something about it?"

Humphrey stood up, and Chloe saw that he was in chains. "I'm scared."

Her eyebrows rose. "You think this is scary, just wait until Patrick gets you out of there and introduces you to our rack."

Patrick cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together with glee.

"No!" Humphrey said. "His Majesty said I had until sunrise to decide."

"Guess again. Patrick, get him out of there."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get the key." He sounded positively delighted.

It was difficult to see Humphrey's face in the poor light, but his silence told Chloe most of what she needed to know. Above all the ancient odors, she smelled his fear.

"No, no, you can't," he said when Patrick returned.

Patrick took his time flipping through a whole ring-full of large keys—as if anyone would believe he needed all of them for only three cells.

"It's not right, I tell you."

"Tell me what I want to hear," Chloe said, "and we won't have to see if I can operate that rack. I've never used one before. I'm afraid my touch won't be too delicate. I'd hate to jerk your arms right off at the start."

Patrick clucked his tongue and shook his head. "That would be a shame, Your Majesty. He might pass out, then we'd have to wait for him to come to before we started all over again."

Chloe looked pensive. "Yes, well, I don't know any other way. Get him out of there and strap him on."

"No!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Chloe's sneakered toe tapped the stone floor while Patrick unlocked the door, unlocked the chains and dragged an unwilling Humphrey out to the rack. Eyes darting rapidly, like a wild animal's, he glanced around, but he didn't seem to like anything else he saw any better.

Chloe stood next to a helmetlike device. "How does this work?"

"That goes over a prisoner's head, ma'am. Then you turn the screws until they drill a hole right through the skull into the brain."

In the dim light, it was difficult to be certain that Humphrey's face turned white.

"Which works better, I wonder?"

Patrick shrugged. "Don't know. We can try one, then the other."

"Louis!" Humphrey screamed. "It was Prince Louis, I tell you!"

"My brother?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. He wanted control of Ennsway. He said as the son, it was his right."

"But it isn't even Ennsway anymore. We've merged with Baesland." Just as suddenly as she said it, she realized that if she and William were killed, Louis would rule the new country. "Oh, dear Lord, he's with William now."

She flew out the door, not caring what Patrick did with Humphrey. She had to get to the cabinet meeting—wherever the hell that was. She had to warn William.

William had carefully explained the first stage of unification to his cabinet, seated around the long rectangular table. It was a closed meeting, and he had left strict orders at the door that they were not to be disturbed for anything.

He wanted everything to run smoothly. He wanted everyone in any position of authority to know exactly what was expected of them. He wanted to assure everyone that this was for the betterment of all, and he didn't have any problems there.

And then he wanted to go find his bride and tell her he loved her, over and over again, so that she would never doubt it.

"Does everyone understand what is expected?"

They nodded in unison.

"Then, on to stage two."

A footman appeared at his side. "Your Majesty, Her Majesty, the Queen, wishes to speak to you."

The doctor had assured William that she was all right, would just be uncomfortable for several days. "Tell her I will be another hour."

The footman stood his ground. "I did, Your Majesty."

William, willing the footman away, glared at him for this needless interruption.

He held out a note instead. "She said to give you this."

William tucked the note into his pocket.

"She said to stand here until you read it."

William drew himself up to his full height. "You have an undying urge to rebuild my tower single-handedly?"

"No, Your Majesty. But I heard Her Majesty has been experimenting in the torture chamber, and I would rather rebuild the tower."

William could not help himself—he smiled. It would be just like Moira to hunt through the library until she found an explanation of how each device worked, then try them out for herself. He opened and read the note, which requested to speak to him immediately.

"Please tell Her Majesty that I have received her request, and that I will meet with her in one hour."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And since she is well enough to run about the castle, see to it that there are men-at-arms to protect her."

"Right away, Your Majesty."

William thought that would be the end of that. When he was finished, he would have to explain to Moira that she could not disturb him in his meetings, that she could not threaten the footmen with torture in order to have them bow to her orders over his. Though she had done it quite creatively.