Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1)

by RAE STAPLETON

  “No. That!” I said, sharply, pointing to the huge blue sapphire she was holding.

  “Ah. Good eye. Tandy was a curator at the National Gallery of Ireland.”

  I cut him off. “He was the curator?”

  “What’s the matter, Sophia?”

  “Are you teasing me?”

  “No, why?”

  “That’s the reason I’m here.”

  “I thought I was the reason ye’re here.”

  I looked up sheepishly. “You are, but remember the gem I mentioned? I think that’s it. I was coming here to search for information on it. My Gigi’s father got it from a man who worked as a curator at the National Gallery of Ireland—possibly your ancestor.”

  Cullen took a huge gulp of his beer. “Jaysus. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Not too much. Just that it was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. I wish I could remember the name of it. Delhi something.”

  “The Delhi Sapphire.”

  “Aye, that’s it. It came with a note that said it was cursed or so I’m told. When he showed it to his wife, my great-great-grandmother, she begged him to let her hold it for the portrait. She fell and broke her leg that same day. He was a very superstitious man so, after that, he sealed it with protective charms and got rid of it.”

  I looked back at the portrait of his ancestors.

  “Sophia. What are you thinking about?”

  “Sorry,” I said, turning away from the painting.

  His hand slid to my neck, and he gently cupped the side of my face with his other hand.

  “I overheard you say that you dreamed of me?”

  He gave an involuntary shudder. “I did,” he replied, gently running his thumb over my skin.

  “What was the dream about?”

  “I’m... after forgettin’ the details now.” His face reddened.

  “Come on,” I encouraged him.

  He looked down at the floor. “I’ve actually had a couple of different dreams. There’s one in a castle, and another in the sea.” He lifted a hand to the back of his head and ran his hands through his hair.

  “It’s not a sign of weakness to dream about people,” I said gently.

  He snorted. “Ah, well, it’s just Arthur Guinness talking,” he said, taking a swig of beer to hide his embarrassment.

  I disagreed but decided to let him keep his sense of normalcy for the moment.

  Glancing down at the table I noticed a cute gold tin with a blue lid. Sweet Kilarney. “Are these candies?” I asked, picking it up. I could go for something sweet right about now.

  “Candies… no. Well, maybe candy for men. That’s pipe tobacco.”

  “You smoke a pipe?”

  “I’ve had a puff here and there but, no, not really.”

  My attention was attracted by a play of light coming in through the half-opened window. I got the feeling that someone was out there. The draperies, gently buffeted by the breeze, took on a life of their own.

  “I can’t stand smoke. It always reminds me of this nightmare I had as a kid.” I set the tin back down and wandered over to the window. There was no one there, just sectioned off gardens with alder trees, bells of Ireland, forget-me-nots, wisteria, and lavender.

  His phone beeped at his side, and he pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it.

  “Bollix. I have to go into the office for an hour. Will ye be all right here, or I could drop ye at Ma’s? She wants to take ye shopping.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m tired.”

  “The guest room is upstairs, second door on the left. Here, I can show you.”

  “No, go ahead. I’m going to get water first. I’ll see you after.”

  He walked away but then turned back, “I was thinkin’ we’d head down to one of the local haunts when I get back for some drinks and dinner. Would ye be into that?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Make yourself at home.”

  I watched Cullen get in his Land Rover, and then I walked up the stairs with my glass of water. The painting was still haunting me. This was all too strange to be true.

  It couldn’t be real.

  But it was real. Wasn’t it?

  I picked up the phone and dialed Leslie. She would have to believe me now. My call went straight to voicemail. Damn it! Maybe I’ll send her a quick text. As I was typing my phone rang. Wow. That was fast.

  Silence. I almost hung up. Then I heard breathing.

  “Did you think you could get away?”

  The voice was muffled like the phone was covered with something.

  “Nick?”

  “I know where you are.”

  “Nick? Is this you, you son of a bitch?”

  “You know what I want.”

  Maybe it wasn’t Nick. “I think you have the wrong number.”

  “Sophia.” The voice was raspy, gravelly, a growl. Disguised.

  A prankster? Can’t be—he said my name.

  A whisper now, barely understandable. “I can see you. Give it up.”

  “Who is this? What are you talking about?”

  “I won’t stop until I have it.”

  “Have what?”

  “I’ll be watching.”

  The phone went dead.

  “Damn you,” I screamed to the empty house.

  I walked to the window to see if Cullen’s vehicle was still there. No. I frowned suddenly, feeling a cold tension seize me. Why? Something… a sound.

  Yes. I thought I’d heard a sound downstairs.

  “Cu—”

  I opened my mouth to call out and then closed it quickly. Some sixth sense warned me that it couldn’t be Cullen; the Land Rover was gone.

  I remained dead still, listening. Not a sound.

  I waited. Looking down, my fingers were curled hard over the windowsill. I made a point of relaxing them.

  Still nothing. I had imagined it.

  Then I heard something again. At least I thought I did. A sound, coming, fading, gone. What had it been? A creaking?

  And then I realized…

  Someone was coming up the stairs.

  I started to rush into the hall. If a burglar was in the house, I would run right into him. I stood frozen. No, I couldn’t go running into the hall.

  He was coming closer. Coming straight for the guest bedroom. I spun around and tried to silently open the closet door. It creaked loudly.

  I could feel his footsteps through the floor. I felt around in the closet. I needed a weapon. I couldn’t think.

  My fingers grasped something long and cold with a thick end. A golf club. There was a whole set of them. I pulled one out.

  The closet would be an obvious place to look for me. I ran to the bed. Too low to fit under. The footsteps were almost upon me. I jumped behind the curtain, gripping the club tightly in both hands, holding it upright against my body.

  I waited, barely breathing. I heard nothing. Nothing at all. He must have gone.

  Then suddenly, just when I was relaxing my stance, breathing deeply, easily, the curtain was pulled back.

  THIRTY-SIX

  I swore in panic and swung the club with all my might, bringing the club up and down in a chopping motion as I attempted to catapult myself past him.

  The intruder brought his arms up to protect his face, spewing a string of Gaelic as he caught me.

  Shrieking, I ran, but fingers wound around my arm. I tried to strike out again, but he had the club by the end. I struggled to keep it and free myself, and tripped. The club was wrenched from my hands as I hit the floor.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What are ye doing?”

  I looked up, stunned to immobility.

  “Liam!” I said, incredulously. I recognized the scar on the side of his face.

  Cullen’s brother.

  I’d seen him briefly in profile the day I’d been eavesdropping. I’d also seen pictures, but I’d never formally met him.

  “Sophia. It’s
you. I thought I heard someone shout from up here. Ye surprised the bejeesus out of me.” He leaned a hand down to help me up.

  “H-how do you know me?”

  “The island, Lass. Ye fell, and Cullen and I rescued ye. Jaysus, I helped pull ye from the water. Ye really don’t remember me?”

  “Sorry.”

  “I sat in the hospital with Cullen all bloody night.”

  “Right. I’m really sorry. I don’t recall any of that, but I do appreciate it. I wasn’t expecting… that is… Cullen never said you were coming over.”

  “No, I guess he wouldn’t have. I just popped by. I didn’t know he had company. Last I’d heard ye’d gone back home after France.”

  “I did. I came here to do some research, and Cullen invited me for dinner.”

  “None of my business. Well, I’m sorry if I gave ye a start. Ye’ve got quite the swing on ye.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I was terrified.”

  “Like I said, I apologize. I didn’t know ye were here, else I would have knocked or at the very least called out.”

  “No, it’s all right. I overreacted. Did you want to stick around and chat? My heart is pounding still. I’d rather not be alone.”

  “To be sure, lass. Ye like sweets?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “I’ve a peace offering for ye, then. How about we leg it downstairs. I’ll make ye a nice cup of tea and we can devour fresh cream treats.”

  The day had turned out to be a social one. Liam left almost an hour after his heart-stopping arrival—just before Cullen returned from work. While I waited for Cullen to get back. I decided to clean out my purse and came across Gigi’s bible. I must have accidentally stuck it in there while packing. With a smile on my face, I flipped the book open to her favorite passage in Ecclesiastes. A loose, fragile-looking paper fell out. Scribbly writing twisted across the top of the page: This stone is trebly accursed and stained with the blood and dishonor of everyone who has ever used it.

  ***

  Two hours after that, I found myself sitting at the bar with Cullen and his friends—pub regulars from the looks of them. They were an entertaining bunch, full of stories and funny phrases.

  My cell phone rang, and I recognized Leslie’s number. “Back in a minute.” I walked outside. “Les, you got my text?”

  “Sure did. It was a little jumbled. I think it autocorrected; either that or you were in a hurry. Who did you find?”

  “The curator.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Not quite.”

  “You’re killing me with all the suspense.”

  “Then listen. Before I got the chance to go to the museum, Cullen showed me a family portrait of his great-great-great-grandfather, who just happened to be a curator at the museum in the twenties. And guess what was in the portrait? The Delhi Sapphire. He told me his grandfather found it but gave it away because it was cursed. I’m wondering if this curse is the key to everything. Maybe we need to do a little more research?”

  “And by we… you mean me?”

  “Just get a head start. I’ll be home soon.”

  I hung up and headed back inside the bar. Cullen winked at me as he passed. He had a phone to his ear now too.

  “Where do you think you’re going, handsome?”

  “Be right back.”

  “Don’t worry, luv. You’ll be safe enough with us,” Big Pete Murphy said, patting the seat next to him. Pete was a tiny man, so it was one of those ironic names.

  “He’s right. We’re harmless, or at least I am,” Bert replied. He was a large, dark-haired man with a bushy moustache.

  “Cullen says ye’re headed home tomorrow. Did ye enjoy our fair city?”

  “I didn’t see too much of it. I mostly spent time with Cullen and his family.”

  “Awe, so ye met the O’Kelley’s?”

  “Yes. They’re lovely people. I went to dinner with his parents, and his brother surprised me today at the house. I almost took his head off with a golf club.”

  “Did ye now? I like ye more already. Did ye hear that, Bert? Sophia tried to beat the yoke.”

  “I felt terrible. I wasn’t expecting anyone. “

  “Ahh, no matter, hardly the first time for that feen.”

  “Do priests get beat up a lot in Ireland?”

  “Bert’s kiddin’ with ye,” Pete said, shaking his head. “But he wasn’t always such a pious man.”

  “We like him anyway, though,” Bert added. “Decent fella now to have a few pints with.” They both laughed.

  “He’s turned over a new leaf,” Pete said casually. “Amazing, considering his crazy mam and all.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, wondering what Lucille had to do with anything.

  “Well, ye could hear me story if there was a pint of Guinness in me hand.” Pete frowned at the empty glass on the table. “Sure, a man can’t talk if his whistle’s dried up.”

  The bartender took the hint and set a pint in front of him. Pete took a swallow and smacked his lips.

  “My mother used to help out with the local riff raff. She dealt with Liam more than a few times when he was a young buck.”

  “Ah, Jaysus, Pete,” Bert chimed in. “You're goin' around like a constipated greyhound. Shut your bleedin' cakehole.”

  Pete leaned forward onto the table and looked around as the others stretched in. “I will in me arse. Anyhow, it’s true. I heard he was questioned over that missing girl,” he said, as he paused for another swallow.

  “Ye’re tellin’ me, ye can remember somethin’ from twenty years ago but ye can’t remember the quid I loaned ye last week? If bullshit was music, ye'd be a brass bleedin' band.”

  “And if brains were dynamite, you wouldn't have enough to blow yer nose.” Both men emptied their glasses, which were replaced like magic by the bartender, just as Cullen returned. How in the heck did anyone drink a pint of Guinness that fast?

  “Well, boys, time for us to head on. This is no place for a lady.”

  “Aw, come on now, it hasn’t stopped Bert.” Pete laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool.

  “We don’t have to leave,” I said to Cullen. “These two were arguing and it was getting good.”

  “I’m too late then. C’mon, off we go lass, before they start suckin’ the wet beermats. “

  Cullen placed my jacket around my shoulders, gently rebuffing his friend’s jeers.

  He whispered in my ear as we got outside. “I thought maybe we could spend a proper night together.”

  “Oh!” I felt my cheeks flush. “That would be nice.”

  The bar was literally around the corner from his house, so the drive took all of five minutes. It felt like three the way Cullen was speeding.

  As we made it through the front door, his hands slid under my sweater. I contemplated mentioning what Bert had said about Lucille and his brother but he’d already slipped my sweater up and over my head, and his hands were busy distracting me from my thoughts. He walked me toward the living room couch and gently but firmly pushed me down onto it. I took a quick breath and shivered as he sweetly and seductively removed my tights. There wasn’t much to the back of my black, lacy bottoms and I heard him groan as he ran his hands under me and over them.

  “Do ye want me to stop?”

  “Don’t you dare,” I said, pulling him down on top of me. He reached around and unhooked my bra. No turning back now. I knew what I was in for and I was game.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  T he sound of a floorboard creaking woke me out of a deep sleep. I studied the clock on the nightstand. Early. It took a second for the masculine carved bed, navy dark walls, and striped curtains framing the windows to make sense. Dublin. I was in Cullen’s bed. It was early enough in the morning to still be dark, and I reached across the bed, fondly remembering the night before. Sleepless nights filled with lovemaking differed greatly from sleepless nights working or partying. My eyes had not been closed for long but while my body was beyond exhaus
ted, my mind was alert and happy.

  “Wake up, sleepy.” I rolled to face him but the other side of the bed was empty. Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of light from the bathroom caught my attention. I could just see Cullen’s backside, practically glowing in comparison to the rest of his golden muscled back. A vacation house in France would do that to you. I sighed. Wish we were back there now. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t missing home as much as I’d told Leslie, not just yet anyway.

  I eyed Cullen’s clothes haphazardly tossed into his open suitcase. It was time for me to get up and pack as well. I stood and wrapped the sheet around me, bending over in search of my missing undergarments.

  “Hey,” he said very softly. “What are you doing awake?”

  “I heard you get out of the shower,” I murmured, still half asleep.

  He let go of his towel and pulled me back into bed, playfully tickling me through the sheet.

  “I see your suitcase over there. Is it really time to go?” I put on a slight pout for dramatic effect.

  “‘Tis my love, although I tried to re-jig my schedule to no avail.” I closed my eyes and smiled, delighting in the feel of his fingertips as he ran feather light touches up and down my bare arm.

  The time had flown by.

  “What if I do this?” I said, pushing the sheet off to reveal my full nakedness.

  “I like where this is headed, Aeval.” He cupped my breasts and played just a touch too rough.

  “You called me that the other day. What does it mean?” I whispered, turning over to burrow into the warmth of his chest.

  “Aeval?” he said in his raspy, Irish lilt. “It means that you are my dark-haired goddess of love.” His breathing had slowed, and he seemed content just to hold me now.

  “I could think of worse nicknames.”

  “Well, then, you should know that lady of sexuality is her other nickname.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “I amn’t. Aeval was a prominent goddess in Ireland, responsible for making the men of the area slaves to their wives’ sexual wishes. Most of the lads growing up had a crush on her and ye look just like her.”

  The story did sound vaguely familiar but still it was more fun to tease.

  “Nice try. I bet that line lured the ladies though, when you were young.”