Because of her present, unmentionable mode of life and the identity of the killer whom she saw with her own eyes, she fears to go to the city guards. Because of your past deeds as the Masked Rider, you are the only one she will speak to. If you are willing to hear the girl out, please come as quickly as possible to the convent of Santa Lucia. Blessings of the Holy Spirit upon you.
Your sister in Christ,
Mother Superior Bernadetta Rienzi
Without a second’s hesitation, Dani grabbed her gloves and bonnet and marched out of her apartment in search of Rafael to let him know where she was going. The moment she left her rooms, her six burly guards fell into step behind her. The palace steward informed her that he was in the council chamber with his young cabinet.
She walked in on their tense conversation about the death of poor plump Count Bulbati. Rafael sat at the head of the table. Elan, the sarcastic Lord Niccolo, and the haughty Adriano were all there, with a few others.
Adriano shot her a prickly look from beneath his glossy black forelock. She ignored him and brought the letter to Rafael. When she arrived by his side and greeted him with a murmur, offering him the letter, he captured her hand, bringing it to his lips in habitual gallantry as he scanned it.
She watched him tensely as he set the letter down and scratched his forehead in thought, frowning.
“I’ll go with you,” he murmured to her, then looked at his men. “Nic, Elan, Adriano, come with us. The rest of you can go. We’ll reconvene this afternoon.”
“Rafael, this girl has obviously been terrorized. She’s not going to want to tell her tale in front of all of you,” Dani protested in a low tone.
He rose from his chair, laid his hand in the curve of her lower back, and steered her toward the door. “I know. But I have a feeling I know who she’s going to name as the culprit.”
“You do?” she asked, glancing up at him, wide-eyed. “Whom do you suspect?”
He shook his head. “Let’s just wait and see.”
To her consternation, he called for his weapons in the hall. She stared in foreboding while he buckled on his sword and pistols. She was taken aback by the smooth but grim expertise with which he handled them. Then she followed him as he stalked outside. While his hooded gaze swept the sprawling courtyard around them, he gave her his hand, assisting her into the coach.
His three friends followed in a second carriage. Dani’s guards took to their horses and rode in formation around the stately royal coach.
They spoke little in the carriage. Dani was confused. She wanted to ask him about Count Bulbati’s death, but gathering anger had begun to thrum in his big, lean body. The brooding, dangerous aura around him discouraged conversation. Her sense of foreboding grew. Ducking his head slightly, his expression restless, Rafael watched out the window.
When they arrived at the convent, Mother Bernadetta greeted Dani, but they did not waste time on pleasantries. The nun, tall, brisk, and firm, walked with her hands tucked into the slats of her black habit. She was broad-shouldered for a woman and carried herself like an aged warrior-queen. Dani found it no surprise that they had clashed wills when she had been a student here.
Mother Bernadetta led Dani in at once to see the girl while Rafael and the other men waited gravely in the reception room near the entrance.
Carmen was a pretty, black-haired girl with olive-toned skin and wary, dark eyes. She was pitifully young for her harsh trade, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, but the air around her was old beyond her years. Dani closeted herself with the girl and gave her some comforting words and reassurances, then asked her to speak her tale in front of the prince as well as her. Carmen agreed with a hesitant nod.
Dani squeezed the girl’s hand in silent encouragement, then rose and quietly went to the door, calling Rafael in.
World-weary as she seemed, the young girl grew a bit starry-eyed when the tall, golden prince walked in, straight out of a fairy tale. He did not seem to notice, either thoroughly used to that reaction from females or too sharply focused on his own thoughts. He sat down beside Dani, rested his elbows on his bent knees, and lightly clasped his hands, giving the girl an intent, sober look.
He had the air of a man who would take care of everything; Dani was proud of him.
Then Carmen haltingly told how the young journeyman chef Cristoforo had been taking bribes so that he could afford to visit her. The man she described as contacting Cristoforo from time to time had long raven hair, icy green eyes, and wore fine clothes, always of pure black. She had not known nor cared to ask why the stranger was paying Cristoforo. She only knew that her “friend” was frightened of the man.
Dani felt Rafael tense beside her when Carmen told about how the black-clad man had come last night and taken Cristoforo away in a coach.
“Before Cristoforo left my room, he begged me to follow because he was afraid something terrible would happen to him. He said he would pay me. So I did,” she said, her dark eyes grave. “I ran the whole way, though I could barely keep up. I watched where the coach turned and took shortcuts—I know the city like the back of my hand. That’s how I know whose palazzo they went to.” She looked from Dani to Rafael. “The prime minister’s.”
Rafael’s eyes flickered but his face was impassive. “Go on.”
Carmen wrapped her arms more tightly around her thin body, hunching down in her seat as she went on to tell of the boy’s escape from Don Arturo’s house and the terrible chase that ensued. “I knew the man was going to kill him then. So I picked up a broken piece of a brick and threw it as hard as I could.”
“Did you hit him?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I hit him right here,” Carmen said somberly, pointing to her left temple by her forehead. Her hand trembled. “He had blood running down the side of his face. He was horrible. But the blow didn’t stop him for long. He…did it, then.”
“Killed your friend?” Dani asked softly.
She nodded, head down. The old nun went to Carmen and embraced her against her large, matronly bosom. “There, there, child.”
Rafael rose from the couch, bowed to the girl, and left the room. Dani murmured comfortingly to Carmen, then went out into the hall and found her husband conferring with his three friends in muted tones. As she walked toward them, they exited briskly after he had spoken to them. Tall and kingly in the midday gloom, Rafael looked over at her from down the stuccoed hall as she approached.
“I think we both know whom she accuses,” Dani said. “Do you believe her? I confess I have no idea what to make of all this.”
“I do,” he replied grimly. One large hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his side, angry calm glowing in his eyes, he looked more than ever like an archangel on the warpath. “Get the girl, would you? You and she are going to a place where I know you’ll be safe until I’ve taken Orlando into custody.”
“Are you going to arrest him for the boy’s murder?”
“Among other things. I’ve had some of our agents out looking for him since last night. I think he may also have had something to do with Bulbati’s death.”
She started to turn away to get Carmen as he’d asked, but then she paused, glancing at him in trepidation. “Rafael, has it ever occurred to you that Orlando might not be who he claims?”
He turned to her with a look of distraction. “Hmmm?”
“Am I the only one who has noticed that Orlando looks exactly like the king?”
“What?” he exclaimed, staring at her with a riveted expression.
“I hate to cast aspersions on your father, but haven’t you ever wondered if Orlando might be something closer than a distant cousin? Is it not feasible that he could be your brother? Half-brother, that is.”
“A bastard? But my father would never…” His voice trailed off and his stare turned haunted.
“It could have happened before His Majesty married your mother, Rafael. Do we know Orlando’s age?” Dani cringed slightly in the awkward silence as Rafael shook his head dazedly. “W
ell, I’ll go fetch the girl.” She turned and started down the hall, but then she stopped and hesitantly turned once more. There was no use holding back the rest. Casting off her uncertainty, she walked back to him. “I probably should have told you this before, but I didn’t want you to be angry.”
He searched her eyes in question.
She braced herself for his reaction. “Rafael, Orlando has been propositioning me.”
If his wrath had been contained before, at that moment it rushed to the surface. His eyes turned the color of an angry, churning sea. “What?”
“It started the afternoon he came to talk to me privately. He said that after our marriage was annulled, he would take me under his protection if I so desired. I refused him flatly, of course,” she said hastily. “But then it happened again last night while you were…out.”
A look of pained guilt flooded his face.
“Well,” she said awkwardly, not wishing to reproach him since he had already said he was sorry, “I’ll go get the girl.”
Soon they were riding in his carriage, surrounded by Royal Guardsmen on horseback. His three friends followed in the vehicle behind.
The streets of Belfort were crowded as they crossed the city.
Except for conferring briefly with the Royal Guardsmen before their cavalcade left the convent, Rafael had remained utterly silent and tense.
Furtively, Dani watched him as he brooded. Realizing Carmen was staring anxiously at her, she gave the child a slight, reassuring smile. Just then, they heard shouts outside and their driver called a halt to the team. Dani stole a glance from behind the pulled canvas shade and saw an imposing figure on a black stallion.
“You are the princess’s guards, are you not, my good fellows? Is Her Highness traveling out today?”
It was Orlando’s voice, pleasant, blasé. Dani exchanged a wily look with her husband. Quickly she realized that since Rafael and she had spent so much time apart, Orlando must have assumed she was alone.
“Allow me, dear husband,” she murmured, sending him a conspiratorial look.
Rafael smiled at her and gestured to Carmen to duck down out of sight.
Then Dani pulled the shade near her seat and leaned out with a cordial smile. “Good day, Your Grace.”
“Daniela.” Under the shadow of his low, black top hat, his vivid eyes glowed.
The guards watched keenly, immediately sensing that she would only greet him with Rafael’s permission. The armed men were wise enough to remain silent and let him pass.
Orlando smiled at her and urged his stallion closer at a stately walk. “Well, you’ve been allowed out of your cage at last, I see. My congratulations. You look radiant, as ever,” he murmured, tipping his hat.
The gesture was slight, but Dani knew what to look for, and when he lifted his top hat slightly, she saw the large, purplish bruise on his temple.
“Oh, my dear cousin,” she replied with a sympathetic frown, “whatever did you do to your poor head?”
It was all the signal that Rafael needed.
Without warning, he flung open the coach door, drew his sword, and sprang at Orlando, leaping across empty space at him with a barbaric roar.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Before Rafael’s onslaught, Orlando’s startled horse reared and shied. The two men grappled fiercely while the six Royal Guardsmen joined the fray with a huge cry.
Pandemonium broke out.
Dani tried to see the fight, but the driver sent the coach surging forward, away from the violence. Nearly hanging out the window, she saw that Orlando somehow held his seat. She saw him kick Rafael squarely in the chest. The prince fell back a step, then Orlando spurred his horse and charged, tearing through the cluster of guards. He rode his horse straight into one of the narrow shops, clattering through the arcade to the next street.
“Get him!” Rafael roared. He was already shoving one of the guardsmen aside, commandeering the man’s horse.
She held her breath, staring as he swung up into the saddle, every movement graceful with angry precision.
He glared at his men as he jerked a nod in her direction. “Protect her. Take her to my house. Half of you come with me. I want him alive!”
“Rafael!” She began getting out of the coach with an offer to ride with him on the tip of her tongue, but he looked sharply at her and seemed to take in her intention with a glance.
“No, Dani. Stay!” he ordered. “Help the girl. She’s our only witness.”
With that, he gathered his reins, spurred the horse, and rode away with three of the Royal Guardsmen, their progress slowed by the crowd that had rallied in the street when their fight broke out.
“Are you all right?” Dani asked Carmen quickly.
The girl nodded, then she heard more arguing just outside the coach.
“You have the carriages, man, give me your horse!”
“Rafe’ll need us!”
She looked over quickly and saw Elan, Adriano, and Niccolo taking her remaining guards’ horses. They were eager, full of gusto, as though it were a fox hunt instead of a chase for a deadly killer.
“Hell, I didn’t bring my weapon,” Adriano said suddenly, patting his hip.
“Here.” Niccolo tossed him one of his pistols and he caught it by the handle out of the air.
“Be careful!” Dani shouted. They didn’t look back.
She watched them disappear down the street after Rafael with a heart full of foreboding.
Thunder and dust whirled around Rafe as he and the three Royal Guardsmen charged up the King’s Road about half a mile behind Orlando.
He rode low over the big bay gelding’s neck, keeping the pace vigorous but careful not to wreck the animal’s wind, for there was no telling how long this race would go. His every muscle was taut with slow-burning anger.
Sweat ran into his eyes and made the dust from the road cling to his skin. He squinted against the westward sun, intensely focused on the black-clad horseman in the distance.
Orlando had tried to lose them in the city, but when they had split up to surround him, the duke had bolted. Rafe could not guess his cousin’s destination, but he did not mind chasing him clear to the other end of Ascencion, so long as Orlando continued in this direction, far away from Dani. He could not have gone forward without a sense of certainty that she was safe.
He was so fixed on the rider ahead that he barely heard the faint shouts some distance behind him on the road. When the voices reached him dimly over the pounding of hoofbeats, he stole a moment’s glance over his shoulder and saw his friends galloping after him.
He lifted his arm in salute, acknowledging that he had seen them, but he did not slow to wait for them because he was not letting Orlando out of his sight.
Then he settled into the grueling pace.
Orlando led them nearly twenty miles up the King’s Road. Streaking past the turnoff to the port, he made his way toward the wooded, mountainous north. Seeing this, Rafe realized Orlando had no scheme to flee Ascencion, though he might have been able to save himself by doing so.
Perhaps he hoped to hide in the wilds.
With the sun slowly sinking behind the mountain crests that rose before them, they rode into the western shadows.
Rafe suddenly realized where Orlando was headed when he caught a glimpse over the trees of the crumbling medieval citadel that had been the stronghold of the di Cambio dukes so many ages past. He furrowed his brow. But that place is an old ruin. The horses were laboring at a hard canter when Orlando abruptly turned into the woods, disappearing from view.
Within moments, they arrived at the mouth of a vestigial road which had nearly been reclaimed by nature. It was overgrown with tall grasses and vines of ivy draping from the trees.
With a glance that swept the terrain, Rafe decided to use the tactic again of surrounding his cousin. For that, he would need a few more men, but his friends weren’t far behind. Besides, if he didn’t wait for them now, they would likely miss the tur
noff that Orlando had taken.
“Stay on him!” he shouted at his men.
“Where the hell’s he going, Sire?” one of the guardsmen yelled.
“To the old di Cambio fort! Don’t let him out of your sight! Remember, I want him alive!” He waved the three Royal Guardsmen on ahead while he pulled up at the edge of the road to wait for his friends and instruct them.
Their arrival would prove a further advantage, Rafe calculated. Orlando had probably counted only the three guardsmen and him in pursuit.
The sight of his friends’ faces was a welcome prospect as they pulled up their blowing horses where he waited impatiently.
“How do you want to do this, Rafe?” Elan asked quickly, wiping the sweat off his brow with his forearm.
“We’ll surround him. You and Nic go around to the south of the citadel—”
Suddenly the most horrific, bloodcurdling screams Rafe had ever heard pierced the air, screams of man and beast. It sounded like slaughter. Rafe swore and turned his horse as the piercing, awful sounds continued.
“Careful!” Elan barked as they urged their nearly spent horses dashing off in the direction of the bone-chilling screams.
The woods were not deep. Instead, the overgrown road led through them only about fifty yards. On the other end there were open, scrubby fields surrounding the ruins.
“Hurry!”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do for them, by the sound of it,” Niccolo said under his breath.
Even now the terrible screams had begun to fade.
They came to the edge of the woods. Ahead, the brown road wound through the parched green field, up to a rise about a hundred yards off.
Gaelen Foley Page 29
