by Kay Hooper
She was several feet away, scanning titles on the shelves behind a massive oak desk. “I saw it once, when I was a kid. Martin’s wife told me all the secrets of the house were in it. She might have been trying to be dramatic for my benefit.”
“But worth a try,” he agreed.
“Got it!” They both spoke at once, Kyle straightening with a leather-bound book in her hands and Lucas stepping back to permit the outward swing of the shelves.
And both were suddenly conscious that they’d been locked in the room for some time. Any of the other guests, a passing servant, or Martin Rome himself could knock on the door. Kyle quickly sat down at the desk and began looking through her slender volume, while Lucas brushed up on his safecracking abilities.
A quarter of an hour later Lucas said, “He doesn’t keep much here. Just a few important papers.”
Kyle looked up from the book to find him frowning over a legal document that looked familiar. “His will?”
“Ummm. Dated just a month ago. Her Highness isn’t mentioned, by the way.”
Having returned her attention to the book, Kyle said vaguely, “He’d never leave anything to a mistress. He has a young nephew. The heir?”
“The heir indeed. If he’s twenty-one or older when he inherits, the young man is to be given a private letter held by Rome’s attorneys. If he’s younger, the estate will be held in trust for him, until he’s of age. Odd.”
“What’s odd about that?”
“Nothing. I mean, what’s odd are the stipulations. This is more Rafferty’s department than mine, but it looks as though this house and its grounds are so tied up that it would be virtually impossible to sell anytime soon. There’s a paragraph here that explicitly urges the nephew and trustees not to sell. Nothing—not so much as a stick of furniture, a painting, or an umbrella stand—is excluded. And there’s a complete inventory and appraisal attached to the will—dated six months ago.”
She watched while he replaced the will, closed the safe, and then swung the shelves back into place. When he came over to rest a hip on the corner of the desk and gaze down at her, she said, “Well, it’s unusual, I suppose. And it sounds awfully rough on the nephew. I mean, Martin has business interests, stocks, things like that, but most of his wealth is here in this house. If the nephew has to liquidate most of his inheritance just to pay taxes and keep this place intact, he could actually end up in debt.”
An expression of surprise crossed Luc’s face, and then one of speculation. “Maybe there’s a motive in that,” he mused.
“What do you mean?”
They heard laughter suddenly from the hallway as a couple passed the library door, and Lucas stood up. “Let’s talk about it upstairs. I think we’ve been in here long enough. Will Rome miss that book, d’you think?”
“I doubt it. But I don’t have any way to carry it without being obvious—”
“Let me.” He took the leather-bound volume and slipped it beneath his cummerbund at the small of his back. “Come on.”
When Kyle took his arm as they left the library, she wasn’t even thinking about appearances. She was thinking about Lucas and about her, and hoping they could clear this assignment up quickly.
They had other things to do.
Josh studied the Rubens with a critical but wholly approving eye. “Beautiful. I’m surprised you’re willing to sell it.”
“It was a favorite of my father’s,” Martin Rome said, “but never one of mine. A matter of taste, of course.” He looked at Raven. “Do you share your husband’s interest?”
“This one is lovely. He has some paintings, though, that should be hung facing the wall.” She looked at Josh in amusement. “All for a good cause. They’re works by beginning artists.”
Raven and Josh were standing with Rome and Zamara just inside Rome’s gallery, a wide corridor specifically designed to display his collection of paintings. All of them noticed Lucas and Kyle emerge from a dark alcove and slip down another hallway toward the stairs.
“Those two are really something,” Raven murmured softly.
“Kyle certainly fell hard,” Josh agreed. “And he can’t take his eyes off her.”
“Or his hands,” said a throaty voice.
Josh could feel Raven bristle even though she didn’t lose her smile, and he somewhat hastily pulled her into the circle of his arm. “Young love,” he reminded Princess Zamara mildly.
She slipped a possessive hand into the crook of Rome’s arm. “Young love, Joshua? But isn’t love at any age an exhilarating experience?”
Promptly he said, “It certainly is.”
Zamara rubbed her cheek against Rome’s shoulder and before Raven’s fascinated eyes the man seemed to go into a kind of stupor. He actually went a little pale, his eyes glazed over, and the hand he lifted to cover hers shook slightly.
“Excuse us,” he said in a vague tone.
Raven watched them move away toward the stairs rather than the still crowded salon, then looked up at her husband. “Well, I’ll say this for Her Highness—whatever she’s got packs quite a wallop.”
“And that’s the second time since dinner they’ve disappeared upstairs,” Josh noted.
“I hope she remembers to put both earrings back on this time. She’s unnerving some of the guests who devoutly wish those two, but especially Zamara, would be a little more discreet.”
“She isn’t subtle, that’s for sure.”
“She’s also trying too damned hard,” Raven said broodingly. “The first time she enticed Rome upstairs, he was talking to us, remember? In fact, every time we’ve gotten near him, she’s put in an appearance.”
“Maybe she’s afraid you’re going to steal Rome away from her.”
“Whatever her faults, darling, she isn’t unobservant. I’m not terribly subtle where you’re concerned, and she’d have to be blind, deaf, and stupid to think I wanted anyone else. I wonder …”
“What?”
“I wonder just how secure her hold on him really is. I don’t think she’s afraid of losing him to another woman, but she’s worried about something.”
“My instincts are jangling too,” Josh admitted. “I feel as if we’re sitting on a powder keg, and somewhere nearby, someone has lighted the fuse.”
Raven nodded. “I certainly hope Lucas and Kyle found something.”
SIX
“IT MAKES SENSE,” Kyle admitted slowly, “if we accept that Martin has absolutely no scruples about protecting his family’s heritage.” They were back upstairs in her room. She was sitting at the foot of her bed with the Rome family book in her lap, and Lucas was leaning against a tall, burnished mahogany bedpost beside her.
“It explains a puzzle or two,” Lucas said. “Like why he’d have a room full of artwork stolen if he only wanted the mask. And about his leaving the house and grounds as difficult to sell as possible. The letter of instruction to his heir is key; the nephew would have to know where to find the stuff.”
“He wouldn’t want to leave his heir indebted,” Kyle realized, agreeing with Lucas. “But the nephew could sell off the artwork a few at a time, claiming he’d discovered them hidden, or that they were bought in good faith. He may even think that’s true, and just assume his uncle wanted to protect him from inheritance taxes. The statute of limitations will likely expire before he inherits, anyway.” She shook her head. “And if he does know and wants to avoid questions altogether, there’s always the black market. Neat. As long as that stuff remains hidden, who’s to know?”
“Which is why we have to find it. Or at least have some good solid evidence that the cache is here. No judge is going to issue a search warrant for Martin Rome’s estate without damned good reason, and even if one did, how would they know where to look? We’ve been assuming he got the stuff for himself and out of a desire to look at it, which would mean he’d have reasonable access to it. If he’s planning for the future, it could be anywhere. A walled-up room or closet—anything. We’d have to have a detailed and a
ccurate floor plan of this house and then measure, inch by inch, inside and out, before we could even come close to finding a hidden vault or room.”
“Daunting,” Kyle observed. “It could be hidden anywhere at all. Still …”
“What?”
“Well, it would have been noticed if he’d had any major renovating done. Can we find out about that? Because if he didn’t, then it’s very likely he had to put the stuff in an existing vault somewhere. A hiding place that was built years ago, maybe even when the house was first constructed. And something about it might be in this book.”
“Good idea.” Lucas looked at his watch. “You’re not dressed for it, but it’s time for our stroll in the maze. We’re supposed to touch base with Kelsey at midnight, as you know. He can find out if the house has been renovated recently. My guess is that he already knows all about the history of this house.”
“The northwest corner—right?”
“Right.”
Kyle decided against a wrap; it was chilly outside but not really cold. She exchanged her heels for a pair of sandals, and they found it easy to slip out of the house. A full moon showed them the way clearly, and since Rome’s guests were hardly the sort to chase one another through the maze—at least, not at midnight—they had the place to themselves.
The northwest corner of the maze had been selected as a meeting place with Kelsey for several reasons. It was farthest from the house, relatively difficult to stumble into by accident, and provided a dandy weak spot in the greenery where someone could push his way through.
And they found Kelsey waiting for them, his head and powerful shoulders protruding through the hedge wall, an expression of patience on his amiable face.
Lucas sighed. “Tell me something, Kelsey, would you?”
“If I can.”
“How did you get into this business? You don’t seem exactly cut out of the federal cloth.”
“You just think so because you used to be a by-the-book cop,” Kelsey told him. “Actually I’m a paragon. Now, are we just going to chat, or what?”
Aware that he’d been gently warned off the subject of Kelsey’s admission into the ranks of the secretive federal agent game, Lucas became even more curious about that. But he was hardly one to pry into anyone’s past after botching his own so badly, and he let it drop. Instead he explained about their search, the book and will, and the conclusions he and Kyle had reached. He ended by requesting information on possible renovations to the house.
“None,” Kelsey said promptly. “Aside from a little redecoration—paint, carpeting, wallpaper and such—that place hasn’t been touched in thirty years. Certainly no remodeling has been done.”
“So it has to be a vault or room that’s existed at least thirty years,” Kyle said.
“That book you mentioned sounds like a good bet. Any luck with it so far?”
“I haven’t had enough time yet to read it through,” she told him.
Kelsey nodded, then looked at Lucas. “If you’re planning a bit of exploring after the guests are tucked up for the night, be careful, will you? It might be best to stick to your rooms tonight, anyway. If you can’t find the vault casually, then you can always skulk tomorrow night.”
“It’s a big house,” Lucas reminded Kelsey.
“Yeah. Well, it’s your show.”
Lucas nodded. “We’ll check in again tomorrow morning around eight; it’s a reasonable time for a stroll, but I doubt any of the other guests will be up and about.” He looked reflective. “This corner can’t be seen from the house, can it, Kyle?”
“No. The only part of the maze that’s visible from any part of the house is the roof of the gazebo.”
“That’s about all I can see from my spot, except for this corner and a couple of the paths,” Kelsey said.
“I suppose we could send up a flare if we happened to get into trouble out here,” Kyle said gravely.
Kelsey looked at her. “Not at all. Just climb up on the gazebo and start jumping up and down and waving your arms. I’ll get the message.”
Lucas put an arm around Kyle and said dryly, “Obviously we have a first-rate backup for this job. Let’s go.”
Kyle heard a chuckle from behind them and then the rustling of bushes as they walked away. “He’s a strange man, isn’t he?” she murmured to Lucas. “I feel like I’ve known him for a long time, and yet … well, he certainly didn’t want to answer you about how he got into this business, did he?”
“So you caught that.”
“You really don’t know?”
“No. I’ve only known him a year or so, and even though he talks a lot he doesn’t say much about himself. Raven could probably tell some tales if she wanted.”
“When we were back in the cabin, he said something about you.”
Lucas was wary. “Oh? What?”
Softly Kyle said, “That you were very protective of those you care for and uncommonly gallant about women.”
After a moment, surprised by the other man’s observation and not quite sure how to respond to it, he said honestly, “Well, chivalry’s the easy part of knighthood. And since I was so lousy with the rest—”
“Don’t.” She shivered a little but made a protesting sound when Lucas stopped and removed his jacket.
“Chivalry,” he said, mocking himself lightly and placing the jacket around her bare shoulders.
“It isn’t that cold,” she said. “And that isn’t why I felt a chill just then.” She gazed up at him, her face starkly delicate in the pale moonlight. “Luc, there aren’t any knights anymore. The men who slay dragons don’t wear armor or ride white chargers or carry a lady’s scarf into battle. They’re unsung heroes,” she went on softly, remembering Raven’s words. “They love and hurt and bleed … and make mistakes. That’s what makes them real, Luc.”
They were facing each other, and Lucas was looking down at her, his face in shadow. “You’re talking about that pardon again, aren’t you?”
“Because we can’t go back. We can’t go back and fix the things we left broken. All we have is today and tomorrow.”
“I know.” He put an arm around her shoulders, and they began walking again. Kyle was choosing their direction since he hadn’t entirely learned the maze yet, and he was surprised when they ended up at the center. “We should have gone directly back to the house.”
“No, we shouldn’t have.” Kyle stepped up into the gazebo, pleased to find, as she remembered, that a soft, golden light was kept on at night in the little structure.
Lucas followed her, watching as she turned to face him. He felt the way he’d felt all day, unsettled, a little raw emotionally. When he saw her face, his first thought was that he didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to face this tonight. He wanted to take Kyle into his arms and blot out the world, especially the past, just blot it out. But his second realization hit him with the force of a blow.
He knew what she was thinking.
For the first time, the very first time in their relationship, he was looking at her calm face and quiet eyes and he knew what she was thinking.
“Not tonight,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore tonight.”
“We have to. You’re still tied up in knots, Luc—”
“And you aren’t?”
“No. Not like you. You haven’t let out the anger.”
He moved restlessly, hardly aware of the faint chill in the air. “Kyle—”
“Your anger at me.”
“Nothing that happened was your fault.”
“No? I was the cause of it, Luc. Unknowingly, yes, but I was the cause. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have had to walk away from anything. That had to make you angry.”
“I love you now. I loved you then.”
“Because of me you had to make choices you didn’t want to make.” Her voice was steady. “You had to lie, destroy evidence. Your whole life was different after that. And I made you l
eave me, didn’t I, Luc? If I’d been stronger, tougher, more of a woman and less a child, you wouldn’t have had to go.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” he said again, tightly.
Kyle stepped toward him. “No, it wasn’t. We both know that. But you’re still angry. And I won’t go on with that between us.”
“I’m not angry, not at you. Kyle—”
“Then why do you keep pulling away?”
He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Remember back at the cabin? I got angry. The bitterness and the hurt and anger all came out. But your anger is still between us. We’re careful and wary, and then we start to be close and you back away. The past rears its ugly head. And that wouldn’t be happening, Luc, unless you were still angry. At me.”
“You said you needed time,” he managed.
“That isn’t it and you know it. You were a stranger to me at first, but that stopped being true a week ago.”
He was silent.
Kyle moved another step until she was standing before him, and her fingers were white-knuckled as she held his jacket around her. “Honesty this time, remember? And not just with each other but with ourselves. I avoided the anger and bitterness ten years ago, but I’ve faced them this time. You lived with it then, maybe buried it somewhere, but you haven’t faced it, not really. Now you have to.”
After a moment he leaned against one of the white Doric columns supporting the roof and sighed raggedly. This was harder, much harder, than facing his own failure. This felt like a betrayal. “I love you,” he said simply.
She wasn’t going to let him avoid it, not this time. “But you were angry—when you left me and in the years since.”
“I didn’t want to be angry.” His low voice was strained, hurting. “I loved you, and you were so … so fragile. I stood there that night, looking down at you while you slept with that suitcase open on the floor by my feet. Moonlight was shining on the bed, on you, and you looked so damned fragile. I knew I’d have to leave you.”
