“You’ve studied all those fields and you’re only seventeen?”
“Sixteen,” he corrected. “I just turned sixteen last September.”
Pierce was truly impressed. “That’s amazing, lad. But don’t fret about your indecisiveness. It’s healthy to explore a wide range of things. Besides, you’re young and have loads of time to find your niche.”
Frederica stared at him, smiling. He grinned in return and began dozing off.
The squealing of wheels as the locomotive grounded to a halt had awakened him. His stomach grumbled and his head ached.
After retrieving his ancient horse, Pierce joined his party at a hackney carriage and they rode into the city of Mansfield. They checked into a hotel and, once everyone sent their luggage to their own chambers, they regrouped and stopped at a café for lunch.
After they ate, Clover asked Kolt if he would show her how to waltz—one of the dances he had learned. The two youths stepped outside while Pierce and Frederica enjoyed a hot cup of tea.
“I’m so glad she joined us,” admitted Frederica, looking at Clover and Kolt through the window next to her. “I believe my son has taken a liking to her.”
“Already searching for a wife for him, eh?” he quipped, bringing the teacup up to his lips.
She laughed. “Maybe. I think a sound-minded, focused young woman such as she is would do him a world of good.”
“Bah.” He waved his hand. “He’s sound-minded enough, like his mother.”
“Oh, stop.”
“It’s true,” Pierce insisted. “He sure as hell couldn’t have inherited his ambition from his father.” The second he uttered it, he wished he could take it back. “I’m sorry, darling. That was unfair for me to say.”
Frederica sighed, then shook her head. “No, it’s sadly true. Oskar was a loyal and caring man, but he was hardly the motivated type.”
She looked at her son for a long moment. “I had to put my acting career on hold for some years to be the mother he needed, but he was worth it.”
“You mentioned Oskar held some ill feelings towards me. What did you mean?”
Her lips curled inside her mouth and then popped out. “He was jealous of you.”
“Jealous?”
“Ja. Very much so. He wanted to pull your spine out using a fork.”
Pierce rubbed the small of his back. “Fuckin’ hell. With that kind of violent intention, it surprises me he didn’t turn me over to the soldiers that night.”
“He helped you because he loved me. He always had—ever since the day I showed up at the theater, looking for work. When you came along and stole my heart, it broke his.”
“Stole your heart, you say?” he pressed, leaning forward.
She blushed and turned toward the window. “Pierce.”
“Elaborate,” Pierce nagged. “You failed to mention that in the interview.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “I failed to mention a lot about what happened between us.”
Pierce loved teasing her, however, he was sure Taisia wouldn’t appreciate the topic he and Frederica were very close to getting into.
“Right, right,” he yielded, leaning back against his seat.
“I did receive it,” she put in.
“What?”
“The letter. I have it with me.” She unsnapped her purse and reached in. “I thought I might allow it into the book. Then I realized I’d be letting the eyes of a child read this.” She handed him a folded piece of paper. “Besides, there are some things that should be kept secret, even if my name is to be changed in the story.”
“Clover plans to change your name, as well? It’s for the best, I reckon, since you did hide a fugitive.”
Pierce unfolded the paper and saw his handwriting. It was the letter he’d written in a café in Paris after his cross-dressing escapade. The letter consisted of telling her he was all right, though he did not mention where he was. His words afterward were full of raw feelings and wishful thinking. It closed with, You’ll always be in my heart. Forever Yours, P.L.
“I never realized I was such a romanticist,” he said, folding the letter and handing it back.
“When you want to be.”
Pierce took another sip of tea. “I ought to have the loot by early tomorrow morning, and then we can leave in the afternoon.”
“Did your brother really hide money up here?”
“So he told me. He did add that there might be people around these parts waiting for him to return for it, though. They may have been searching for the loot.”
“If that’s true, then there’s a chance it has already been discovered.”
“Aye,” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Anyone could have found it by now.”
She reached out and took the dragonfly key hanging next to Taisia’s wedding band.
His skin rippled with gooseflesh when her fingertips lightly touched him. It made him lightheaded with thoughts he should not be having. He wondered if Frederica felt the same charge.
“Pierce, what exactly is going on?”
He sighed deeply. “All right, here it goes . . .”
When they retired to the hotel, Pierce drank a whole bottle of wine to subdue his restless thoughts. When he grew drowsy enough, he collapsed onto the mattress without undressing. His thoughts briefly combed over every worry he had just before everything flickered out.
A dream. The entire thing was nothing but a damn dream. The witch. The visions. Leaving home. It was all a silly nightmare. If nightmares could be silly, that is. In any case, he realized it must be a dream when Taisia got on top of him, kissing his neck and working to unbutton his shirt. Happily, he reached up to discover she was already naked. He slid his hands to her rear and held it tightly, making her moan. She began unfastening his belt buckle. Wait, what was he doing wearing a belt? He hadn’t worn one since he’d landed on the island.
“Oh, Pierce,” Taisia breathed out, reaching underneath his trousers.
Her breath smelled of gin.
“Taisia,” he whispered, grabbing a breast that did not feel like his wife’s.
“Frederica,” she corrected.
“Frederica?” he exclaimed.
He abruptly sat up and when he did, she rolled off him and dropped to the floor. “Ouch! Pierce!”
He groped around for the matchbox, struck a match, and lit the lantern on the bedside table. The room brightened and there was Frederica, naked and on his floor.
“What are you doing in here?”
“What does it look like?” she snapped, standing.
Pierce pressed his back against the wall. He was completely gobsmacked and startled, and thanks to the sight of her naked body—which had changed very little since he saw it last—very aroused. He tried fastening his trousers, but his erection wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he threw the sheet over himself.
“Please get dressed,” he pleaded.
It was Emma Rojas all over again! That beautiful Hispanic woman who’d fancied him in Sonora. She had come to his hotel chambers after he and Taisia had had a huge fight and offered herself to him. He had been drinking wine that night, as well, which made this whole moment too uncomfortably familiar.
“Not that you’re not a beautiful sight to behold, love,” he remarked quickly when he saw her hurt expression.
She smiled and leaned over, ready to kiss him. “Then why do I need to dress?”
The temptation was great, and after not being with Taisia for months—the longest he’d gone without sex—it was very enticing, indeed. He never forgot the delightful feel of Frederica and all the wonderful things she had done to him under the sheets. He felt seconds away from throwing her down on the bed and reliving every ungodly sexual moment they’d once shared.
“I’m married, Freddie,” he stated, holding her by the shoulder. “Spoken for, eh?”
She looked surprised, as if she wasn’t aware. Rising, she gave him a peculiar look. “I . . . I thought perhaps you had left her.”
“Why would you think that?”
She rolled her eyes and turned to grab her clothes from the floor where she had dropped them. Pierce tried not to admire her bare arse as she bent over.
“From the story you told me at the café. I mean, really, a witch wants you dead in order to create some super being—which, of course, no one knows anything about. It’s madness.”
Hearing it summed up like that almost made him not believe it.
“How did you get in here?”
Frederica looked at him icily. “Your door was unlocked, so I figured it was an invitation.”
He gripped his hair. “My door was unlocked? Bloody hell, I’m slipping.”
Her face turned sad. She started to dress, weaving as she did. Was she drunk? “You mean you did not intentionally leave it unlocked?”
“No, darling. And I haven’t left my wife, either. Sorry if you got that impression.”
She looked humiliated, and it seemed as though she was about to cry. If it weren’t for his stiff dobber, he’d be able to stand and try to console her.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, rushing for the door. “I was mistaken.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say as she left. He dropped sideways over the bed and sighed.
* * *
Taisia lay in the hammock, slowly swinging herself from side to side. She felt the warm ocean breeze combing over her. These days, it was hard to find a place that provided any relief for her aching back. Pregnancy had never felt so uncomfortable before. Taisia had been blessed with easy and manageable pregnancies in the past. Even when carrying the twins, she’d experienced only minor sickness, and as her belly grew, her aches never kept her from moving about normally.
This pregnancy was different. Three months after discovering she was expecting, she was vomiting nearly every day. Her body hurt, and it weighed as heavy as a stone on her swollen feet. She wondered just how many babies she was carrying. She was utterly exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was only thankful she could sleep as much as she desired, for Nona, Jasper, and Grandmother Fey were helping with her other children.
Often, she hoped she would fall asleep and wake up to Pierce’s smiling face staring down at her. Her longing for him added to her discomfort. The hurt in her heart and the sadness in her soul caused by his absence had taken its toll. Marco Polo also seemed affected. He was now nearly bald from his constant molting. If Pierce never returned, however, she would need to be strong and carry on with her duties toward her children. They longed for their father to come home, but they also needed their mother, and they needed her to be able to help them through the mourning process. This, she had prepared herself for even before Pierce left home.
“Pierce,” she whispered as she began dozing off. “If you can hear me, please return to us soon.”
She fell fast asleep.
“Mommy?” said Joaquin.
She opened her eyes and saw his beautiful face. So much like his father, she thought.
“What is it, my baby boy?” she asked, rubbing her thumb over his cheek.
“Do you want to go papaya picking with me?”
Taisia wanted to, but her feet were throbbing from their trip to the falls early that morning.
“I’m sorry, my darling. Mommy hurts, and I am very tired. Ask your grandparents.”
“All right.”
He gave her a kiss on the forehead and darted off. She fell back to sleep.
When hunger awoke her, Taisia asked Nona and Jasper at their place if she could have some of those papayas.
“I’m sorry, Taisia,” Jasper told her. “We don’t have any.”
“Did you not pick some with Joaquin?”
“Joaquin?” Nona said while braiding Galina’s hair. “We haven’t seen him since this morning.”
A terrible sickness that wasn’t caused by her pregnancy formed in her gut. “I sent him to you. He never came?”
They shook their heads.
“Maybe he went to Mum’s house,” offered Jasper. “Wait a tick. I’ll go ask.”
“I’ll search your house,” Nona added.
Moments later, Jasper returned with Grandmother Fey. Joaquin had not been seen by anyone.
Nona appeared with Lydia, but not Joaquin. “He isn’t in the house, and Lydia hasn’t seen him.”
Taisia’s instincts told her something was very wrong. Something had happened to her son!
Chapter Twenty
Sherwood
It was early morning by the time Pierce left the hotel. He felt weighted down by sheer exhaustion. After Frederica’s unexpected visit, he’d had a hell of a time falling back asleep. He wondered if he had done something to give the wrong impression. Maybe he’d acted a little too excited when she arrived at Archie’s place—and Taisia had barely come up in any of their conversations. It could’ve been that Frederica was just very drunk. Not to mention there was that unexplainable tug between them, which nearly caused him to cross the line.
Regardless, he would go on with his mission.
He rode out of Mansfield and within a half hour, he was deep in Sherwood Forest. The early morning fog loomed about, but the sun was steadily burning through it.
Naturally, Robin wasn’t far from his thoughts. Aside from the history between them, no one could ever think of Sherwood Forest and not associate it with Robin Hood. Man, and woods had become a singular legend, never to be separated. However, Pierce doubted the vampire would be lurking about. After all, who wanted to be in the same old place for seven hundred years?
Pierce was captivated by the splendor of fall. The entire woodland was bright with the glow of October. A sight he’d taken for granted for many years. Fiery red, golden yellow, and illuminating orange leaves filled the branches that had yet to shed themselves down to a skeletal form. The leaves carpeted the ground as well as the narrow road. Some danced in the autumn breeze.
It had been ages since he’d traveled through Sherwood Forest. His family used to make camp by the Major Oak whenever they passed through, which was likely the reason that Joaquin had chosen to hide the loot there.
Eventually, Pierce reached the old oak.
The Major Oak was said to be one of the oldest trees in England. Its incredibly wide trunk had boulder-sized knots in it, as did its thick branches. Those ancient limbs stretched awkwardly toward the sky, not as high as the surrounding trees, but it wasn’t its height that made the oak popular.
The entire thing had grown completely twisted and misshapen, and nobody understood why, although theories were plentiful. The living wonder had but one distinctive difference since Pierce’s childhood. Wooden beams now supported the bottom branches. Though he was uncertain when they’d been placed there, the support beams’ fair condition suggested it wasn’t too long ago.
Pierce dismounted and approached the deformed tree. A family was admiring it, but left shortly after his arrival. With them gone, he had the chance to snoop around. He recalled what Joaquin told him in Tilly Lincoln’s flat when he gave him the key.
When I took the money, I was immediately hunted by none other than the British Guardians. I got all the way to Nottingham before they caught up to me. I was able to hide the money inside a strongbox and bury it under the Major Oak Tree.
Pierce searched the grounds by the oak. After circling it a couple of times, Pierce realized he needed to look closer. He examined the roots, searching for any markings.
“Wait,” he mused. “Joaquin said under.”
He went to where the trunk was split, creating a narrow opening. The inner space was hollow with plenty of space to hide something. It was too narrow and twisted for a man to fit through, except for the very top of the slit where there was a little more leeway. He crouched by it and noticed an even smaller opening down at ground level. For a moment, he thought like his brother. Were he to bury the strongbox underneath, this spot would be his best bet.
He drew his knife and got down on his belly. He reached thr
ough the smaller opening and began carving into the earth. It became colder the farther he went. It was fortunate he hadn’t arrived during the winter, for the ground would have been frozen solid. He only hoped no other curious spectators showed up anytime soon.
The knife cut through nicely and after scooping out the loose soil, the tip finally struck something metal.
“Huzzah.”
It took a while to dig through the dirt and find the edges. During the time the object had been underground—through the long, cold winters and rainy summers—the earth had grown accustomed to the box, and now it was reluctant to give it up. Pierce had to fight the selfish soil as he hacked and clawed at the edges.
At long last, he managed to rip it from its underground home. He felt like he was unearthing a small coffin. If he opened the thing and found the remains of some dead animal, he would go mad on the spot.
Pierce set the muddy box down and cleaned it off to find the decorative lock matching the dragonfly key. The bloody box was heavy, but the amount of mud caked to it made it difficult to determine if anything was inside. He tried untying the leather thread around his neck, but the knot had become too tight. Impatient, he snapped the thread off. He slid the ring off first and slipped it over his left pinkie finger, the only finger the ring would fit.
He admired his and Taisia’s rings so close together. The matching Celtic Knot bands, laced with black silver, were the symbols of his and Taisia’s promise to spend forever together. He looked forward to slipping her ring onto her finger upon their reunion.
“Let the loot be inside,” he whispered and then kissed her ring.
He wedged the tip of the knife into the lock and dug out enough of the compacted dirt to stick the key in. With a twist, the lock clicked. Pierce sucked in a breath. For a single, terrifying moment, he envisioned an empty box.
He lifted the lid.
A pair of thick cloth sacks sat inside. Pierce unlaced the bag’s thread, and with a shaky hand, opened it.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he gasped, staring at the hundreds—no, thousands—of coins.
It was the same for the second sack. Eight thousand pounds, just as Joaquin had promised. His moment of joy was short-lived when he realized that uncovering the loot was only half the battle. Now, he needed to return to France.
The Forgotten Story Page 18
