“Who would have created a bathing chamber like that after the Romans left the island?”
Lord Kallen dropped the quizzing glass from his eye, tucking it into his pocket and then handing the tile back to Rune. “See to it that piece makes it back into the lower bath. I want everything intact in those chambers.”
Rune nodded, tucking the tile back into his inner pocket.
Lord Kallen turned to Elle. “It is an interesting thing to speculate. Pre-Roman, you had the Celts living on the island, but they weren’t known to create art like this, much less dig out and create a chamber like this. There have been Viking holds and artifacts found about the island, but they are set in a later time than the Romans, though they have always been a seafaring people and the island was believed to be an important outpost for them. They could have very well brought back artisans or slaves with them from their travels into the Mediterranean.”
A frown twisted the direction of the deep wrinkles on the lower half of his face as he looked to Rune then back to Elle. “It will have to take more consideration and more research, though I am afraid I cannot do so at the moment.”
Her hand went to his forearm. “Of course, the ball—we’ve taken too much of your time already. Please, return to it and we will search the maps on our own.”
“Just don’t stay in here too long, Eliana.” Lord Kallen started to shuffle out of the room, then paused and a twinkle brightened up his greying eyes. “The dance floor has been unbearably crowded so the one dance that you got in will have to do. You looked delightful, as always. But you will still need to trounce me in whist this eve.”
She gave him a wide smile. “I look forward to losing an unholy sum to you, per usual.”
“As do I.” With a conniving grin, he tipped his head to her and left the room.
Rune waited a moment before he looked at Elle, the blood pumping hard through his veins. “Did you hear what I heard?”
“Viking outpost?”
He nodded. The possibility of it aligned far too closely with the lore of the box.
She jumped in place and then scurried to the closest table of maps. “Then let’s find this land mass.”
Two hours later, after scouring countless maps and atlases, they had found three land masses that were eerily similar to the shape of the drawing from the ring mosaic. Two of them islands in the northern seas and one across the ocean.
“I don’t know—look at the top left on Smøla.” Elle pointed to the curvature of the land mass just off the coast of Norway. “I know some of the tesserae were missing there, but I don’t see how the lines could match up quite right, especially with the two odd peninsulas just below the missing area.”
“The rest of it is so similar, but I think you’re right.” Rune nodded and pointed to the weathered, crinkled map next to it. “And on the Antigua map, the eastern edge—while it curves the same—the proportion is amiss when compared with the rest of the island and I have to think that odd bay would have been captured in the lines as they were on the mosaic.”
Elle moved to the adjoining table and picked up the last map, the edges curling along her fingertips, and brought it over to the table where they had placed several silver candlesticks for better light. She set it atop the other maps, stepping back, crossing her arms in front of her as she stared at it. “So that leaves this one.”
Rune’s fingers tapped along the edge of the most recent sketch that Elle had done in the Bronze Chamber that married what was left of the mosaic on the wall with the wood blocks they’d pieced together. A mostly complete picture of the island and the ring set over it.
“I think that’s it.” The words came out of his mouth with disbelief evident, the possibility that this could be the place cutting the air in his lungs by half. “I think it’s it. But where on there? That’s a big island.”
“It is.”
His gaze flipped back and forth from Elle’s sketch to the map. “Have you ever thought it odd, the placement of the ruby on the ring in the mosaic?”
“That the ruby is in the lower right, instead of upright, jutting out the top? Yes. That’s how a ring would normally be drawn—or at least how I would naturally draw one.”
Rune pointed to the map and the curvature of the southeast shoreline. “What if the ruby is the pointer? What if this”—his fingers tapped on an inward curve, a small bay—“is what we’re looking for? It’s a bay, maybe an inlet.”
“I do—I see it. It’s something. A start if nothing else. You truly think it’s what we’re looking for?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, then looked to her. “But I have to hope. It’s in northern waters, Vikings settled there. The coincidences are too strong to ignore. And I want that box out of your hands. I want you safe. I don’t know that I even care what we find there, as long as the box is gone.” His words raw, they startled him for the ferocity with which he said them.
He meant them—more than anything. Her safety was now the most important thing—more important than what he’d come here to the Isle of Wight intending to do. He’d known that fact for days, though he’d been ignoring it. Not until that very moment did he realize how very much he would trade away for Elle.
Anything. Everything.
Before he did something stupid like tell her what his true mission was, his look dipped away from her and he set his knuckles along the edge of the table.
He leaned over Elle’s map, his stare on the black pencil lines, searching. Searching for something—divine intervention would be nice—that proved they were on the right trail. If only he could bring the box back to its true home—that was the only thing that would ensure Elle would be truly safe.
Elle reached out and wrapped her fingers around the back of his right hand, squeezing it. “We’re going to Iceland, aren’t we?”
“Can I suggest at this point that it’s a ‘me’ instead of a ‘we’?”
Her mouth went to a tight line. “No, you cannot.”
His gaze tore away from the map and he looked at her, at the determined excitement sparking in her blue eyes. If he left her behind he knew full well her fury at him would mean he would lose her forever—not to mention she would be a target without any protection.
As much as it pained him, he had to concede she would be safer with him than apart from him. He nodded. “Then yes. We are going. And I know just the ship to get us there.”
While instinct demanded he drag the box away from her, hide her away somewhere where no one could find her and hurt her, he knew he couldn’t do it.
So he had to protect her, no matter the cost to him.
{ Chapter 17 }
“Lord Kallen is going to be irate with you for making us miss the supper.” Elle passed by Rune as he held the library door open for her, her body sliding along his.
Minx.
“Me?” Rune tore his look off of Elle to give one last glance into the library at the maps sitting on the tables. He closed the door and fell in step with her along the dimly lit corridor leading back to the ballroom. “You were the one that didn’t want to break for food.”
A teasing grin spread wide across her face. “Yes, but he doesn’t care to get irate with me—but he will happily be irate with you.”
“Then we both better lose mounds of coin to him at the whist tables, so I can return to his good graces.”
“Who said you were ever in his good graces?”
He laughed, sliding his hand along the small of her back and letting his fingers slip down to swat her backside.
She jumped forward, laughing, and Rune made an instantaneous plan to snatch her arm and drag her back into the shadows of the library.
Lord Kallen and his whist could wait.
“Eliana—here you are. I wondered where you disappeared to.” A man had rounded the corner in front of them, blocking their path back to the ballroom.
Rune and Elle both jerked to a stop and he could feel her stiffen next to him.
He glanced down
at her. Her face had paled—how was it even possible in that miniscule second?
The man took a long step forward, setting himself in front of Elle. He was tall, though shorter than Rune, with dark pomaded hair and dark eyes that looked near to sinister in the dim light of the corridor. Thin, so much so his cheeks sunk slightly in. His stare bored into Elle without giving Rune the slightest glance. “I thought you would be alone—Kallen came back into the ballroom without you some time ago and you missed supper.”
A weak smile came to her face. “As you can see, I am not alone.”
“Who is your friend?” He didn’t bother to look at Rune.
Her whole body had gone rigid, almost shaking as she stood next to him, her bare upper arm brushing against the sleeve of his tailcoat. All of Rune’s muscles twitched to attention.
Elle looked at the man, not saying a word. She either didn’t want to introduce Rune, or she didn’t want Rune to know who the man was. He was guessing the latter.
Rune took a step forward and wedged himself slightly in front of her. “Rune Smith, and you are?”
“Heir presumptive to the Kallen estate, Howard Sangton.”
The man looked at him for the moment it took to spit out the words and then his lecherous look shifted back to Elle. Sangton’s eyes sank down to her neck, to the silk scarf she’d wrapped carefully about her neck to hide the bruises on her skin.
He smirked and his left hand lifted, stretching out to finger one of the delicate ends of her scarf.
She jerked into motion and her arm flew up, knocking his hand away, and then her fingers splayed toward the direction of the ballroom. “Please, Mr. Sangton, we are on our way to your uncle, as he specifically requested my presence at his whist table. I would hate to disappoint him.”
Sangton’s smirk pulled back into a sneer. “And we wouldn’t want my dear uncle to wait now, would we?”
Her forced smile quivered, then reset solidly on her lips. “No.” She stepped to her left and behind Rune. “So please, continue on to wherever you were going.”
Sangton’s head shifted to the side, the sneer distorting into disgust, and he moved past the two of them, his heels clicking on the large square stone pavers of the hall.
Rune turned to watch him retreat along the hallway, then disappear after turning to the left in the shadows.
Without waiting for her to move—to say a word—he spun fully to Elle and grabbed the outside of her shoulders, steering her backward and toward the library.
Her slippered feet stumbled along the way, but his clamp was so secure on her she remained upright until they were in the library. He kicked the door closed with his foot and released his grip on her.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
She shuffled three steps backward, her hands up to calm. “Rune.”
He didn’t let her escape, swallowing the space between them, and he grabbed her upper arm, holding her in place. “Tell me the truth, Elle. He’s the one—the one that choked you.” The vicious rage in his words scared him for the intensity of it. But there was no controlling it.
“Rune.”
“Tell me.” A growl, nothing but a wild animal now.
Her eyes closed, cringing, her head shaking.
“Elle.” He leaned in, his lip curled. “Tell me or don’t tell me, I’m going after that bastard.”
Her eyes flew wide open. “You can’t.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he wasn’t the one.”
Her fingers grabbed the lapels of his coat, panic in her voice. “He’s not the one.”
“You’re lying.” His eyes narrowed at her. “I’ve spent my life watching people from the shadows, Elle, and I know when they’re lying. You’re lying. I also know that man—he’s a bloody sick beast. I saw it instantly.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Des knows who the bastard is.” His head shook. “I already sent him a letter for the truth of the matter and if I have to wait for his answer, my fury is only going to multiply in the ensuing days.”
“Rune—”
His jaw set hard. “You know he’ll tell me exactly who the bastard is. So let’s just skip that step, Elle.”
Her hands tore away from his coat and she jabbed a step backward, tugging at his hold on her. “I’m lying because of what you’re about to do. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You cannot even imagine the darkness I have in me, Elle, much less see it.” The words cut out into the air, the rage in him spinning into a storm. “And that darkness is not about to allow me to let this go. Don’t let it fester and get to a place where I can’t control it.”
“Fine—it was Mr. Sangton.”
Rune let her go, his hand dropping to his side as he stilled, letting the fury gather in his veins, sharpening it to a deadly point that demanded blood.
Her right hand whipped out and she grabbed his forearm, her fingernails digging in through the wool of his black tailcoat. “But you cannot do anything, Rune. Not for me. Swear to me you won’t approach him. I am done with Mr. Sangton and he knows it. It is over. Please. Let it be. You can’t do anything.”
He ripped her hand away from his arm, his words ice. “Don’t tell me what the blasted hell I can or cannot do. You know I’m no stranger to killing—those demons entered my life a long time ago and have never sought to leave me, so killing that bastard in a duel will be nothing.”
“A du—” She gasped a breath, her hands flattening on her belly like she was attempting to hold herself up. Her head began to shake, her face crumbling. “No—you can’t. Not a duel. No. You don’t know what will happen and I cannot be the cause of your death. Let this be over. He will leave me alone. I swear it.”
Rune charged forward, leaning over her, his right hand lifting and ripping down the scarf she’d so carefully wrapped about her neck. “Tell me you don’t still feel these bruises.” His fingers slid across the angry marks and she flinched as his words seethed through gritted teeth. “It’s not over. Not by far. Not for that bastard.”
“Rune—”
He spun from her, yanking the door open and sending it smashing into the adjoining wall.
“Rune!”
He was down the hall before her next scream of his name could echo along the stones.
There wasn’t any stopping him.
He was going to kill that bastard.
{ Chapter 18 }
Blast. He’d gone outside and circled around.
And he’d found Sangton.
Elle heard the yelling before she found them in the rose gardens. Rune’s low rumble of a voice. Sangton’s higher pitched squeal.
She recognized it now. How high pitched Sangton’s voice was. How whiny. How she ever had found him handsome was beyond her. Insanity. She must have had a stretch of unaccountable madness to ever find him attractive.
A crowd of people jostled around the two men, blocking them from her sight. There. In the middle. The top of Rune’s head.
She ran, her slippers crunching into the gravel pathway toward the garden that lined that side of the castle. Not fast enough. Mud on her legs, slowing her steps.
And then a sudden hush, words cutting into the silence that stopped her feet.
“Tomorrow. Daybreak,” Sangton screeched.
“Name the place.” Anger was no longer in Rune’s voice. Only death. Cold, calculating death.
Frozen at the side of the castle, all blood drained from her head, from her body.
“Poppy field.” Sangton said the words with an arrogance that only he could muster, a show for all those around them.
Elle tilted, falling, until her shoulder hit the stones of the castle and propped her up.
Two men started to drag Sangton through the crowd and away from Rune. They disappeared up the stairs to the castle and in through the doors that led into the ballroom. The crowd in a tizzy, their tongues wagging, they started to disperse.
Elle couldn’t move from her spot. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t t
hink.
Long minutes, the blood pumping into her head, pounding, the only sound she could hear.
The throng of people fully dissolved, some into the gardens, most into the ballroom. Lord Kallen would be pleased with the excitement of the evening. Even if it was at the expense of his nephew. He didn’t like Sangton anyway.
And his adoration of her was about to be severely tested.
Rune was left standing alone, fifty paces away from her.
His fists still curled at his sides, he turned toward the ballroom and he caught sight of her.
For long seconds he stared at her, his chest lifting heavy with every breath.
His fists uncurled and he stalked over to her.
Elle couldn’t even push herself from the wall.
“Elle—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I think you’re about to.”
“I provoked Sangton into a duel. We meet at dawn.” Blunt. He wasn’t about to spare her moments of hope.
Her eyes closed, the world starting to spin around her. She’d be flat on the ground if not for the castle holding her upright.
This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.
Her hand flattened on her belly, pressing inward. “Dawn…” The word stumbled from her lips as she opened her eyes to him. “Dawn…dawn is only hours away. It’s not enough time.”
“Not enough time for what?”
The Soul of a Rogue (A Box of Draupnir Novel Book 3) Page 12
