by Darcy Burke
Fear curdled Cate’s stomach. She would do anything to protect Elijah, but she also didn’t want to lose the tapestry.
“We have to give it to them,” Elijah whispered. “We already have what we need.”
“Probably, but it’s a valuable artifact. That boy said it was made by Glendower’s daughter.” Whether it led to a sword or not, it was now an important piece of Welsh history.
He looked down at her. “You expect me to safeguard it?”
She wasn’t sure he could—and she didn’t want him to be in danger. “I do, but at the same time, I don’t see how you can.”
“Stop yer chatterin’ and put the tapestry down afore I tell me lads to start shootin’.”
Elijah looked at Wade and they seemed to exchange some sort of silent communication. He didn’t look at Cate, but spoke in his quietest tone yet, his lips barely moving. “When I touch your shoulder, I want you to drop to the ground. Get as low as you can.”
Cate’s gut clenched and a cold sweat broke out on her neck. She didn’t dare nod, didn’t want to notify the villains of their plans. But she also didn’t want Elijah to die. The tapestry wasn’t worth that.
She turned, pressing against Elijah, intent on telling him they should just go, but he pushed on her shoulder, and her knees buckled, almost with a will of their own. She flattened herself into the grass and mud as a shot sounded over her head. Terror sliced through her, but she stayed down. And prayed.
Elijah whipped his pistol from his waistband and fired at the brigand who’d just missed him. The bullet pierced the man’s shoulder, dropping him to the ground. Gunfire sounded around him, coming from the other villains lurking amidst the ruins.
“Get down!” Elijah called, turning toward Wade and Grey, who had already fired their weapons. They were down, but not by choice.
Wade bent over Grey, who grimaced in pain.
One of the brigands came from behind a pile of timber and raced for Elijah. Cate’s head came up, but Elijah barked, “Stay down!”
He dropped the tapestry as the villain scrambled over the wood and launched himself at Elijah. He’d just pulled his knife from his boot when the brigand knocked him backward.
The man moved quickly, dodging Elijah’s knife thrust and rolling to the side. Elijah shoved him off and caught sight of Wade engaged with another villain.
“Get the tapestry!” one of the villains yelled.
Elijah kicked at his opponent and tried to push himself up.
“No!” Cate’s plea sent icy fear straight through his gut.
He turned in time to see a man rip the tapestry from her hands and then strike her across the face. She landed in a heap. Elijah growled as he sprang forward like a wolf on the hunt.
“Run!” the man who’d attacked Elijah cried from behind him.
Elijah felt a whoosh of air and stepped neatly to the left just as the blade of a knife scratched across his upper back, tearing his coat. Gripping the knife in his hand, he turned with an upper cut and sliced through the other man’s coat from chest to shoulder. He barely managed to catch a bit of flesh, causing the man to lose his footing and fall back.
“Elijah, he’s getting away!”
Turning to her, Elijah saw the brigand clutch the tapestry beneath his arm and flee the cluttered chamber. Elijah wanted to give chase, but he couldn’t leave Cate or the injured Grey. The tapestry might be valuable, but it wasn’t worth any of them dying. Losing Matthew was bad enough, and he was now irrevocably convinced that his death hadn’t been an accident.
Elijah spun back to check on his valet. Wade stood heaving, his own knife at the ready. But the air had gone quiet. Now that they had the tapestry, it seemed the villains had gone.
Wade turned and dropped to his knees to tend to Grey. Elijah went to Cate and helped her to stand. “Are you all right?” he asked, touching her reddened cheek. He shouldn’t be so familiar, but he couldn’t help himself.
She stared up at him, her eyes nearly as dark as pitch. Tugging herself from his grip, she pressed her lips together. “I hate that they have the tapestry.”
He stroked his thumb against her flesh. “I know.”
Her gaze shifted to something behind him and she gasped. She pulled away and rushed toward Grey. “What happened?”
Elijah followed, sharing her concern for the brave woman who’d likely captured his valet’s heart. Cate knelt down beside her.
“She took a bullet to the leg,” Wade said, his voice tense. He’d pushed up Grey’s skirt and was investigating the wound. “Looks like a clean shot, but the wound needs attention.” He smiled down at her. “Your complexion matches your name, love.”
Grey scowled at him in response.
Cate looked up at Elijah. “How are we going to get her back to the inn? She can’t walk.”
“I can hobble,” Grey said with an irritated tone. Cate looked at her with sympathy.
“Wade and I will carry her.” Elijah could see that Cate was uncertain, apprehensive. “She’ll be all right.”
With a subtle nod, she turned and smoothed her fingers against Grey’s brow. “You aren’t supposed to be hurt.”
“It’s a bloody inconvenience. I barely feel it.” Grey grimaced, disproving her words.
“Liar,” Wade said. “Are you ready for us to move you?”
She pressed her lips together and gave a single nod.
A small voice drew them all to turn toward the window. The boy had come back and spoke to Cate in Welsh. Cate responded and they conversed for a moment. At last she looked at Elijah. “This boy’s mother is a healer and their house is nearby. We passed it on the way. It’s the dwelling closest to the castle.”
“Let’s go.” Elijah exchanged looks with Wade and they worked together to heft Grey, who was no dainty flower. “Lead the way.”
Cate spoke to the boy in Welsh and he led them from the castle, through the gatehouse and down a path that circumvented the steeper part of the hill, which they had climbed earlier. This boy knew his way around.
They had to stop twice, but they managed to arrive at the boy’s cottage without causing Grey too much pain. The boy, who Cate said was called Berwyn, opened the door and ushered them inside.
A woman met them in the main room and immediately began barking orders. Elijah and Wade stared at her while Cate interpreted. “She says to take Grey through there.” Cate indicated a doorway to the right.
They followed the instruction and went into a bedroom, where they laid Grey on the bed. Cate and the woman spoke for a few minutes and then the woman disappeared into the main room.
“She’s gone to fetch some implements,” Cate said, moving to the bed and offering a weak smile to her companion. “She’s a skilled healer. It’s good luck that Berwyn found us.”
The woman returned a few minutes later. She spoke to Cate, who looked at Elijah and Wade and gestured toward the door. “She says to wait out there. I’ll help her and come out when we’re finished.”
Wade frowned. He took a small step, then paused. Elijah nudged his arm. “Come on, then.”
Out in the main room, the boy indicated they should sit at their dining table, which was situated at the back of the room in a kitchen area with a wide hearth. He brought two cups of ale and set them on the table.
“Thank you,” Elijah said, lifting the glass and offering a smile of appreciation that the boy clearly understood.
He grinned in return and nodded, then said something in Welsh and left.
“What’s he saying?” Wade asked, picking up his ale.
“No idea.” Elijah took a long drink. “Cate said the boy told her that Glendower’s daughter made that tapestry. It’s a bloody Welsh treasure and I let it go.”
Wade swallowed and set his cup down. “You didn’t ‘let’ it do anything.”
“I should’ve gone after them.”
“One against at least five, assuming there actually were more of them than us?” Wade asked.
“Two of them wound
ed.”
“Did you wound the other one? That’d be three if you count the one I stuck.”
“Well done,” Elijah said. “I only nicked mine, unfortunately. Did you land a good blow?”
Wade nodded. “Got him low between the ribs. He ran off, but he’s hobbling by now.”
They drank in silence a moment.
“Did you call her ‘Cate’?” Wade asked.
Elijah set his cup on the table. “I did.”
“That’s familiar. I thought you a confirmed bachelor.”
Elijah snorted. “I am.”
Cate came out of the room a moment later. “Wade, if you’d like to go in, she’s expecting you.”
Wade was already halfway to the bedroom.
Elijah stood. “How is she?”
“In pain, but the leg should heal. She’ll need to remain here a few days, however.”
“You say that as if you don’t plan to stay with her.” Elijah recognized the set of her jaw.
Her lips curved down. “I don’t know what I plan to do.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Berwyn?”
“I don’t know. He said something unintelligible and left.”
“I need to speak with his father. He has a story to tell me about the tapestry.”
“You said it was made by Glendower’s daughter. Is that a clue that will help locate the sword?”
“I hope so. I don’t know anything about her. And if he doesn’t either, I’ll need to consult my father’s library.”
Elijah didn’t know if he dared travel with her to her parents in Monmouth, which meant she’d have to stay here and wait for Grey to heal. Would he stay with them? He didn’t know what he ought to do. He only wished he could get his hands around the men who’d taken the tapestry, and not because of the theft, but because he was certain they were behind Matthew’s death.
He flexed his hands as rage spiraled through him.
The door opened and in walked Berwyn with a man. They bore a strong resemblance to each other with their dark, straight hair and slightly hooked noses. The man greeted them in Welsh. Cate responded as the boy rushed to fetch his father a cup of ale. He also refilled the two on the table. He turned to Cate and asked her a question. She answered and the boy obtained a fourth cup, so Elijah surmised he’d offered her ale as well.
The man quaffed his beverage and handed it to the boy for a refill. Then he spoke to Cate in a long string of what sounded like gibberish to Elijah’s non-Welsh-understanding ears.
Cate looked at him. “This is Ifan. He’s lived in the shadow of Harlech his entire life. In fact, his family has lived here for generations. He invites us to sit so that he may tell us a story.”
Elijah fought the urge to scowl. He didn’t want to hear a story. He wanted to find the men who’d killed his brother.
Perhaps Cate read his annoyance, because she cast him a quelling glance. “Sit, Elijah. He’s going to tell us who stole the tapestry.”
Chapter 14
They settled themselves around the table—Cate and Elijah, Berwyn, Ifan, and Rhona. She’d finished tending Grey, who was now resting with Wade at her bedside.
Cate sipped her ale, her body thrumming with anticipation. “I am anxious to hear your tale, Ifan.” She spoke to him in Welsh and then turned to Elijah. “I’ll translate, but please be patient.”
His expression was stoic, his gaze cool. She could practically feel the frustration radiating from him. She touched his hand and registered the shock of desire that seemed ever-present when she looked at him now and which only intensified when they came into contact. She left her hand atop his. He didn’t seem to register it, but neither did he flinch.
Ifan launched his tale, his dark eyes sparkling in the midday sun streaming through the small window next to the table. “I tell you this because you had the tapestry in your possession.” He frowned. “Berwyn says it was stolen from you. I’m sorry for it. What did you plan to do with it?”
“I’m an antiquary,” Cate said. “The discovery and preservation of antiquities is my life’s work. And my life’s dream is to find the sword depicted in the tapestry and share it with the people of Britain.”
Ifan smiled and gave a single nod, appearing satisfied with her answer. “The tapestry belongs here in Harlech. It’s a treasure that belongs to the people of Wales.”
“Because Glendower’s daughter stitched it?” Cate was unsurprised when he nodded in response. “I’m heartbroken it was lost. I’m hopeful we can get it back, and yes, I think it should be kept here in Harlech, perhaps on display in the church.” She leaned forward, anxious, but not wanting to appear too desperate. Desperate, however, described precisely how she felt. “You were going to tell us who took it.”
“Yes, yes, in time.” His dark brows wiggled. In fact, they moved every time he spoke, as if they had a will of their own. It made his face very expressive and earnest. “First, I must start at the beginning. This is a story passed down through my family since the time of Owain Glyndwr.” Some people found the sound of Welsh harsh, but Cate loved the lilt of it and she smiled at hearing him pronounce the Welsh hero’s name. “As I said, we’ve always lived in the shadow of Harlech. Or inside its walls. We supported Glyndwr in the rebellion. My ancestors fought with him before the castle fell to the English.” His lip curled as he said the last, and his eyes darted briefly toward Elijah. Cate gave his hand a squeeze, hoping he wouldn’t take offense. Ifan wouldn’t hold a grudge against Elijah personally, but he was clearly of the mindset that the English had stolen Wales’s independence.
“The legend of the flaming sword is my duty to preserve. It is known amongst the people of Harlech, but we hold the tale dear as our treasure. The tapestry is the manifestation of it. It shows in picture what we share in word.”
Cate nodded and asked him to pause while she translated what he said to Elijah. She turned back to Ifan. “Please, continue.”
“The sword belonged to a young man. What he lacked in experience, he made up for in courage. He rushed into battle, his sword bursting with white flame. It scared the English at first and he took many lives, but they rebounded and he was soon overcome. The English lifted the sword in victory, but it didn’t flame. The fire only sparks for the worthy.” Ifan grinned, sending another glance—this one tinged with superiority—toward Elijah. “They were not worthy.”
Cate shared this with Elijah who suppressed a frown. “Please don’t take offense,” she said softly.
Elijah arched a brow. “This man clearly holds the English in low regard. And I’m an Englishman.”
She gave him a pleading look and squeezed his hand again before returning her attention to Ifan. “This sword was Dyrnwyn?”
He nodded, his eyes gleaming with admiration. “Yes. The Sword of Rhydderch Hael. One of the thirteen treasures. Glyndwr refused to allow the English to take it. He attacked and regained the blade. And it burst into flames once more.”
“Because Glendower was worthy,” Cate said with more than a touch of awe. “What happened to the sword?”
“It disappeared with him. After the castle fell, Glyndwr fled.”
Cate’s stomach caved in. That couldn’t be all. The sword couldn’t be lost. “How did his daughter know to make this tapestry? Was she here?”
Ifan shook his head, a small smile curving his slender lips. “We don’t know for certain, but she married Sir John Scudamore and lived with him at Kentchurch, where she made that tapestry. What’s more, Glyndwr lived there with them.”
Cate looked at Elijah, expecting to see the excitement unfurling in her chest reflected in his eyes, until she remembered that he didn’t understand a word of what Ifan said. “The sword is at Kentchurch. It’s where Glyndwr went after the battle.”
Elijah’s hand tensed and his eyes shone with enthusiasm. “He knows this for certain?”
He hadn’t said it exactly. Cate turned back to Ifan. “Is the sword there?”
Ifan leaned back in his chair with a slight shrug. �
�It isn’t here.”
What did that mean? She let go of Elijah’s hand and crossed her arms.
“What is it?” Elijah asked.
“He doesn’t definitively say where the sword is located, just that it isn’t here. Glendower took the sword and he went to Kentchurch with his daughter. It therefore follows that the sword ought to be in Kentchurch, no?”
He looked at her with an edge of skepticism. “I’m not sure I believe anything is that straightforward. Not after the chase this has become.”
Cate worried he was right. She looked at their host intently. “Where do I look at Kentchurch?”
“That I cannot tell you because I don’t know.” He sounded regretful and Cate believed him.
“What of the men who stole the tapestry?” Cate asked.
Ifan’s eyes gleamed with something akin to malice. “The Order of the Round Table. They seek to control the thirteen treasures.”
Cate’s neck pricked. “What is the Order?”
“What?” Elijah asked, leaning toward her. “You look concerned.”
Cate uncrossed her arms and pressed her palms flat on the table. “Give me a moment.”
Ifan finished his second cup of ale. “The Order was founded by the descendants of the Knights of the Round Table. At first, their mission was noble—to protect the treasures from theft and misuse. Over time, they accepted members who were not descendants and some of them became corrupt. I am not surprised they stole the tapestry from you—they will stop at nothing to get what they want.”
Those words chilled her to the bone. They will stop at nothing.
She glanced at Elijah and worried about his reaction. “Ifan, do you know who is in the Order?” She was afraid of the answer because she suspected she already knew. All of Andy’s suspicions flooded Cate’s brain.
“Not by name. As I said, they are mostly descendants of the knights, though I have heard that one of their current highest-ranking officials is not a descendant. They invite scholars to join their numbers—this is what perverted the organization.”
