No signature.
Blood rushed to her brain. Was it a maid who’d cleaned the room and actually did intend to keep her secret? Was it a member of Gibran’s staff or even Gibran himself?
Gibran did not seem like the smiley-face type.
Or was it someone who—contrary to their darkly inked promise—did not have her best interests at heart at all.
She folded the paper and shoved it into her jacket pocket, put the chair back, then rushed for the door, heart pounding. She scanned the hallway—no one—but she couldn’t help a creepy sense of being watched as she hurried back downstairs.
“Emma!” Beatriz’s voice made her jump inside her skin. “Where are you going so fast?”
Was it Beatriz? It wasn’t her writing, though she could have disguised it.
Was it Gemma, the glamorous woman who’d handed Darias the box? Unlikely. How would she have gotten into the palace? Darias was so surprised to see her that she probably wasn’t at the wedding or coronation celebrations.
Then who?
Possibly someone else from the mysterious Cross of Blood. Someone living or working right here in the palace, watching their every move and planning.… It could be nasty aunt Liesel who’d been needling her ever since she arrived.
She realized she hadn’t even responded to Beatriz. “Uh, just making sure we didn’t leave anything behind in the move.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not like we’re turning the place over to the new owners later today. If you leave stuff behind you can come and get it tomorrow.” Beatriz looked amused. Emma could swear her eyes wandered to her right jacket pocket, where the folded note lay—throbbing with guilt—below the thin fabric.
“Oh, I know. Just trying to be organized, I guess.”
“Come join us. We were just about to go for a walk in the gardens. The gardener has created a new bed in honor of Darias taking the throne. He found heirloom roses dating back to the time Altaleone was founded.”
“Uh,” she scrambled to think of an excuse. And failed. These royals lived quite a life, spending their days planning grand parties and looking at flowers. And right now, that was her life. “Sure. That sounds great.” She hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt.
At least she didn’t have the contract in her pocket, in which she agreed to accept cold hard cash to be a big phony in their midst for an entire year.
But someone knew about it.
Who?
And there was no avoiding it—now she had to tell Darias she’d lost the contract.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Darias knew that the Cross of Blood would soon be in touch again. They’d hardly hand over the prized icon and disappear back into the woodwork. He decided to make it easy for them by walking each journey between the palace and the castle. The security guards could hardly protest him having free run of his own country, though he knew they were never far away from him.
As expected, they didn’t wait long. As he walked down the broadest avenue in Casteleone, watching a young boy throw a stick for his dog, an old beggar woman approached him and tugged at his clothes. He reached into his pocket for some cash, but as he tried to give it to her she thrust a folded piece of paper into his hand.
His eyes snapped into focus, studying her. She still looked like an old homeless woman. Which was odd since there was no homelessness in Altaleone. She stood there, watching him through rheumy eyes while he unfolded the thick paper and read the black handwritten script.
We will meet at the old summer palace at ten of the clock—night—on the last Thursday in the month of your coronation.
“No.” He looked hard at her. “We will meet in the old castle right here in Altaleone. Tell them that.” He handed the paper back to her and watched her. She didn’t say anything, or even nod but bowed her head slightly, then turned and shuffled slowly away.
As she reached the corner he watched her pick up her skirt and speed up. Probably not even someone old. He hated all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit. He wasn’t a big fan of pomp and ceremony of any kind, but he’d grown to accept it as his birthright.
They were coming now, and he was ready.
Emma was pacing back and forth in the dim front hallway of the castle when the door flung open, flooding the space with light. She startled. “Oh, it’s you.”
Darias lifted a brow. “Who else were you expecting?” He approached her and circled his arms around her waist. Instead of relaxing into them, she felt herself stiffen. “I have something to tell you.”
“You’ve taken a lover?” He pretended to glance nervously toward the door.
She laughed. Or tried to. “No, worse than that.”
He looked doubtful. “Not to my mind.” He stroked her cheek. “You’re pale. What’s going on?”
She swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t be too furious. It was in the contract that she had to keep their arrangement secret, and by letting that piece of paper slip from her grasp, she’d broken her promise. “Someone knows about our arrangement.”
She felt the breath rush from him, and he stepped back. “How?”
Suddenly cold without his arms around her, she shivered a little. “I brought our contract with me. Stupid, I know…” Her voice was rising. “I should have left it at home in a bank or something, but I didn’t realize there’d be staff going through our stuff and moving it around.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “When I moved into my first room I shoved it up on top of the wardrobe. When I finally got a chance to retrieve it this afternoon, it was gone and had been replaced with a note saying that someone knew my secret.”
“Damn.” Darias’s face looked grim. He looked right past her, frowning. Then his dark eyes focused on hers. “I need to find out who it was. Do you have the paper?”
She nodded. Then turned to retrieve it from a little locked cabinet in the room they’d chosen as her study. She’d hidden it in a boring-looking manila envelope labeled notes.
She pulled it out, holding it as if it were burning hot, and held it out to him. “I’ve tried not to touch it. I know it might have fingerprints.”
Darias took it gingerly. “Yes. Thing is, I don’t want Gibran and his crew to know about our arrangement either. I don’t want anyone to know—ever.” His eyes met hers again, with breath stealing force. “Someone could challenge my right to the throne if they knew our marriage isn’t real.”
Our marriage isn’t real. The words were hardly a surprise, but they still hit her like a bucketful of icy water.
“I know. I’ve been in a panic since I found it. I’m sure we can find out who stayed in that room during the coronation.”
“It was there the entire time, since we arrived until when?”
“I don’t know when it was found and the note substituted for it. I didn’t get a chance to check until today.”
“That’s nearly three weeks.”
“I know. I’m so, so sorry. I feel like an idiot for leaving it exposed.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I should have asked you if you had anything that needed to be hidden. It’s my fault.” He wasn’t looking at her but down at the enigmatic paper. “For now we’ll keep it hidden and keep our eyes and ears peeled. I need to figure out what’s going on with this Cross of Blood society.”
“Do you think the two are connected?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” He folded the paper. “They gave me a note today. Different writing and paper, though.”
“Where is it?”
“I gave it back to the messenger. They wanted to meet me at the old summer palace where my father and grandmother were murdered in cold blood.” He let out a savage laugh. “They must think I’m an idiot.”
“You told them no.” She said it as a statement, praying it was true.
“I told them to meet me here.”
“What?” She felt her eyes widen. “In our home?”
He looked apologetic for a split second. “I need to meet them on my turf. Here I can record the whole thing i
f necessary—not that it will help since they’re bound to wear masks—and they’ll know I have security on hand if not in the room. If they’re going to kill me here, I can at least make it damn difficult for them.”
The castle was from an early enough era that it had been built to keep marauders out rather than provide a comfortable habitat, so the windows were small and the walls solid stone rather than smooth plaster. Still, as they settled in, moved the furniture into more comfortable arrangements and added fun antiques and knickknacks from the stores around Altaleone, it began to feel like a home of sorts. Yes, she wasn’t going to be there forever, but she’d lived all her life in rentals so that was hardly odd.
Did it hurt that she’d be leaving all the treasures she and Darias were gathering to furnish their shared life? Not really.
It would hurt to leave Darias, though. She couldn’t deny that. Each night they made love and slept in each other’s arms like a real married couple who had their whole lives ahead of them to share.
Each morning she had to peel herself away from his warm, muscled body, and it felt a bit like ripping off a Band-Aid because she knew that each morning was bringing them closer to the day she’d get up and pack her bags and say good-bye.
“It’s Thursday today.” Darias’s gruff voice was half muffled by the pillow. She lay still, with his arm draped over her. “The cook is preparing some food for our guests—” He said the word with a hint of mockery. “As I intend to be a perfect host.”
“Are you scared?”
“No.” He sat up, then turned to her with a serious expression. “Though I quite understand if you don’t want to greet them.”
“I’ll be there if you like.”
“It would be nice to have a second pair of eyes on them. I imagine they’ll all be masked or otherwise disguised. I want to figure out who they all are.”
“I doubt I’ll know any of them.” Sometimes she felt pretty useless there in Altaleone. If they didn’t speak English, she wouldn’t even understand them.
“You never know. You’ve met a lot of people since you came here, what with us hosting the two biggest parties of the twenty-first century.”
“True.” She bit her lip. “What do you wear to a secret society meeting?”
Darias laughed, sitting up. “Whatever you damn well please.”
“Maybe I should find a robe and mask of some kind.”
“That would be a terrible waste of your beauty.” He grinned, looking her up and down in a way that made her skin sizzle. “But would likely serve them right.” He stood up and stretched. “But after we have hors d’oeuvres, you should disappear. Go barricade yourself in our bedroom. It’s completely secure. I’ve had the locks beefed up, and the walls are solid stone nearly two feet thick, built to protect a queen.”
“Will there be guards here?”
“When I want them. If I want them gone, they’ll be gone. I plan to let events unfold and react accordingly.”
Emma’s stomach tightened. “What if they…” Could she even say it aloud? “What if they try to kill you?”
“I suppose if they all jump on me with broadswords there won’t be a lot I can do. But I can’t live in fear. If they all want me dead for some obscure reason, then eventually they’ll succeed. My main goal right now is finding out who killed my family and avenging their deaths.”
She shivered slightly. She didn’t want to ask what kind of vengeance he’d seek. “I understand.” She climbed out of bed. “I’ll try to be a keen observer. Just give me a hint when it’s time for me to leave.”
Darias didn’t say anything. He moved toward her, gorgeously naked, and took her in his arms. He kissed her softly on the lips, then deepened the pressure until her breath came in ragged gasps and her nipples pushed against his chest.
I love him.
The thought assaulted her mind as his tongue plundered her mouth. If he could be brave, then she could be brave for him. She might be a queen in name only, but she would do her best to think and act like one tonight.
With Darias’s encouragement Emma wore a long blue dress that had belonged to his grandmother. The older woman was several inches shorter, so the dress fell to ankle length, where it brushed against a pair of mock snakeskin ankle boots they’d bought in New York. She pinned a strange but intriguing pin of a dragonlike creature at the neckline. The overall look was cocktail party chic mixed with secret-society drama.
Darias wore all black, hardly unusual for him, but although he seemed outwardly relaxed she sensed a certain tautness about him, like a freshly tuned string.
The staff, including several of Gibran’s men—some of whom were women—were instructed to stay out of the way unless summoned. They had a code if immediate entry or rescue of some kind was required, and although Darias had pooh-poohed the idea of panic buttons, Gibran’s insistence that they also protected Emma had convinced him to set at least one carefully hidden but easily reachable one in each room they might enter.
Hidden cameras were set up to record everything. “If I can’t figure out who they are tonight, I’ll watch the footage and unravel the mystery later,” said Darias.
The first guest arrived about five minutes early. Emma wasn’t sure if they’d all show up in a mob, so she was relieved when only one figure emerged from the black Mercedes she saw arrive in the castle courtyard.
Her gut clenched when she saw their “guest” emerge wearing a mask, even though she’d been told to expect that. It was a woman, dressed in a long black tunic with a hood that covered her hair. Her mask was black and silver and covered most of her face. Emma could only tell she was a woman from the way she carried herself.
“A pleasure to meet your majesty,” she said—in barely accented English—as she kissed Emma’s hand. Her own hands were gloved. “And warm greetings to our new king.”
Emma watched her eyes sparkle behind the mask as she moved toward Darias. Was it the same woman who gave him the cross? She couldn’t tell. She was tall enough. Emma suppressed a little green flash of jealousy.
“I would greet you warmly myself, but it’s difficult when I don’t know who you are.” Darias looked intrigued by their visitor. Maybe he’d been expecting a gathering of old men.
“Who I am doesn’t matter.” She took the glass of wine Darias offered. “I am simply one of many who want to secure the future of our cause.”
Emma was dying to ask, “What is your cause?” but managed to hold her tongue. It probably had something to do with the Holy Grail. Or a numbered Swiss bank account. Or both.
The ancient knocker on the door rapped again—a rather terrifying sound—and Emma walked over to open it. Now two men, one tall and one short, both in long cloaks and masks, greeted her. Another three came behind them. With this many people you’d normally expect a hum of conversation to fill the room, but apart from the formal greetings, they remained silent.
They could hardly chitchat among each other and keep their identities secret.
“Are we all here?” asked Darias. He was the tallest and maintained a commanding air of authority despite being the only one not in costume.
“We are,” said an older man. “Thank you for hosting us.”
“I’m sure you know why I invited you here. I want to know who killed my father and grandmother.”
An odd silence followed his statement.
“So do we.” The older man. “Our sworn duty is to protect the monarchy of Altaleone and the sacred legacy of the Holy Roman emperors.”
“You screwed up big-time, then.” Darias’s voice grew louder. Emma tried not to stare. She could see that he didn’t believe them. “What was with the kinky sex vibe of the murders?”
There was a pause. The man cleared his throat. “You were not aware that they had…proclivities?”
“Proclivities?” Darias spat the word. “No. I certainly was not, and I don’t believe it now. My grandmother was nearly eighty.”
“Age does not preclude desire,” said the young
woman who’d arrived first, in a crisp, clear tone. “Perhaps you didn’t know them as well as you thought.”
Darias stared at them, and Emma could almost feel waves of rage rolling off him. Her adrenaline started to run and she glanced around, wondering if she should offer them wine, or the now ridiculous-looking hors d’oeuvres on silver plates on the sideboard.
“Emma, would you mind leaving us?” His soft tone sounded forced.
“Of course.” Relief mingled with anxiety for Darias. Was it really good to leave him alone—and getting mad—in a room full of masked weirdos?
Still, she’d promised, so she headed upstairs and—also as promised—locked the door and texted Gibran’s team that she was there.
The whole thing is being videotaped. Of course that wouldn’t be much consolation if they had great footage of Darias being murdered.
She paced back and forth across the room, wishing she could hear what was being said downstairs. The walls and floors were too thick, and their bedroom was too far away.
Darias clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his temper under control. He had a long, slow fuse, but once lit it could be fiercely explosive. “Who are you?” First he asked the assembled group of masked strangers. Then he zeroed in on the older man who’d spoken. “Who are you?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter.” His voice was quiet. “We exist only to protect you and the sacred legacy.”
“Well, after what happened to my forebears I think it may be time for you to retire.” He couldn’t hide the disgust in his voice. “We’ll stick with hired security from now on.”
“We have reason to believe you are in grave danger.”
“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.” He felt his eyes narrow. “Which one of you is Lorenzo Aldobrando?” He scanned the group, looking for the arrogant young man who’d dared to flirt with his sister.
Silence greeted him.
“He is not among us.” An older woman spoke. “He has never been one of us.”
The King's Bought Bride (Royal House of Leone Book 1) Page 17
