Kiss of the Rose (11 page)

“A different pope and a different political climate. The king needs an heir. That is an inescapable fact.”

“He has an heir, the princess Mary.”

He shrugged. “A girl.”

“And what, pray, is wrong with that?”

“The last time a woman claimed the throne of En-gland, it threw the country into civil war.”

“Only because her cousin Stephen decided he should rule in her stead. Matilda rightly should have been queen.”

“Perhaps, but she was the one who gave up and ran back to France, wasn’t she?”

“And you assume all women would do that?”

He glanced sideways at her. “Well, they are the weaker sex.”

She tossed her braid back over her shoulder and muttered something he assumed was uncomplimentary before fixing her attention on the two guards on duty outside the queen’s private chambers.

“Do they know you, Sir Christopher?”

He traced the line of her cheekbone with his finger. “There’s no need to be so formal now that we’ve kissed. You may call me Christopher.”

She opened her eyes wide at him. “Do they know you?”

“Of course they do.”

“Then can you get us in?”

He pretended to hesitate. “You are asking for my help?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t get in there alone?”

“Not in these clothes.” She grimaced and made as if to turn away from him. “Don’t trouble yourself. I knew you would enjoy this far too much.”

He caught her hand. “What were you going to do if I wasn’t here?”

“Go to my chamber and change into a dress before coming down again. This would be faster, that is all.”

He stared down at her, enjoying the sense of power that came over him, enjoying her need for him, if he was perfectly honest. “Get behind me.”

They approached the two guards, and Christopher cleared his throat. There was no reaction from the men, who continued to stare straight ahead. Christopher pulled out his dagger. “Something’s wrong.”

Rosalind came around his shoulder, stepped right in front of one of the guards, and waved her hand in front of his face. “I can see that. They appear to be in a trance.”

Their gazes met and without further discussion they headed into the queen’s private chambers. Silence greeted them, and Christopher motioned Rosalind behind him. She ignored his gesture, and crept along the passageway checking the receiving rooms on her side of the hall as he checked those he passed.

A sudden chill enveloped Christopher and he stiffened. Glancing at Rosalind, he saw that she had done the same. Before either of them could move, a black shape flew toward them and knocked them both to the floor. When he hit the floor, Christopher’s dagger skidded out of his reach across the tile and he had to crawl after it.

As the blackness above them hovered and swirled, it felt as if his head was about to cave in. He tasted blood in his mouth, but it wasn’t his, the flavor so intense that he wanted to lick his lips and savor it. Was this how a Vampire felt when he fed, this sense of power and strength flooding through him? What in God’s name was wrong? He gathered every piece of energy he possessed, and kept moving forward, strove to fight the Vampire’s compulsion and make it across the narrow hallway to his weapon and Rosalind.

He swallowed hard to dislodge the taste of blood and focused on Rosalind. To his horror, she was trying to stand and face the apparition, her face lifted toward the creature as if she was seeking something. He opened his mouth to shout at her and couldn’t speak, could only inch his way toward her at the speed of a snail.

With a cry, she threw her dagger at the center of the mass, and then collapsed back onto her knees.The Vampire, or whatever the Vampire had created, moved off as quickly as it had appeared.

Christopher stretched out a shaking hand and connected with Rosalind’s knee. He hauled himself up until he could see her face.

“It’s a female,” she whispered.

“What?” He frowned as he checked her for any visible injuries.

“The Vampire.” She swallowed hard. “She smells like decayed orange blossom.”

He paused to study her dazed face. “Are you all right?”

“She is old and has great power.” She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest.

Without thinking, Christopher picked her up, sat her in his lap, and held her close. For once, she didn’t protest. He soon realized why, for her body continued to shake as if she had an ague. He smoothed his hands down from her shoulders to her wrists, then over her back and kept it up until she began to warm under his touch.

He swallowed hard and remembered the rich, seductive taste of blood in his mouth. “Did you get a sense that the Vampire had killed tonight?”

“No. Did you?”

He shrugged. “I’m not a Druid.” He wasn’t going to tell her that for a horrifying moment he’d felt as if the Vampire had somehow been inside his mind. “But the Vampire must have come here for a reason.” He reluctantly released her.“We should make sure that all is well with the queen.”

He extended his hand to help her to her feet. Her face was still too pale for his liking, her eyes huge. He wanted to ask whether she’d felt that strange connection to the Vampire, but was unwilling to raise her suspicions and risk her questions when he wasn’t even sure what he’d felt himself.

They advanced down the hallway, pausing at every door to listen, checking for the signs of a Vampire kill, but there was nothing.

“I smell blood,” Rosalind whispered.

Christopher paused at the open door of the small antechamber that led directly to the queen’s bedchamber beyond. There were no guards posted there at all.

“Look.” Rosalind pointed at the far door. “What is that?”

Christopher edged forward, bringing one of the lighted candles from the prie-dieu with him to dispel the gloom. Nailed to the door of the queen’s bedchamber was an elegant long-sleeved lace-trimmed glove. The fingers pointed downward and dripped blood onto the wooden floor. Rosalind’s breath hitched as she looked over his shoulder.

“That is one of the queen’s favorite gloves.”

“How can you tell when it’s covered in blood?”

She pointed at the gilded lace. “It’s embroidered with pomegranates, which is her emblem, entwined with roses, which is the king’s. I believe he gave her this particular pair of gloves after Princess Mary was born.”

Rosalind glanced at the door. “I have to make sure the queen is all right.”

He nodded his assent and stepped back as she slowly opened the door to the bedchamber and slipped inside. She was back a mere moment later, which was when Christopher realized he’d been holding his breath.

“She’s sleeping soundly,” Rosalind whispered.“Three of her waiting women are also in there. I didn’t want to disturb them.”

With a resigned sigh, Christopher stripped off his favorite leather doublet and used it to cover his hand as he pulled out the nail, bringing the glove with it. Then he folded the doublet around the glove and looked around for something to clean the floor with. Rosalind was already checking the row of chests beneath the small diamond-paned window. She returned with an old woolen petticoat, which she used to mop up the rest of the blood.

When she’d finished, she unceremoniously stuffed the stained petticoat into the folds of Christopher’s already ruined doublet. He jerked his head in the direction of the door. Rosalind followed him out and then touched his arm to lead him through another maze of passages that led to the rear of the building and the gardens beyond. He was surprised to see that it was still dark outside, and that over in the great banqueting hall, lights glowed and the faint sound of music reverberated in the air.

“We have to bury this glove,” Christopher said.

“Are you sure?” Rosalind frowned. “I’m certain the queen will miss it.”

Christopher crouched down and carefully opened his doublet to reveal the glove. Rosalind knelt next to him and peered at the bloodied object before recoiling. “You’re right. It smells odd. It might be poisoned or bespelled.”

It didn’t smell of anything much to Christopher, but for once, he was willing to concede that a Druid might know better. “I’ll take care of it.”

He wanted to show the glove to Elias, to get his thoughts on exactly
whose
blood stained the soft leather. “If you permit, of course.” He covered up the glove again and tucked the well-folded doublet under his arm. Rosalind remained kneeling beside him. He shivered as the wind ruffled the exposed black lawn sleeves of his undershirt. “We should get back.”

Rosalind stared at him, her brown eyes fixed on his. “Why didn’t she kill the queen? There was nothing to stop her. Even we would have been too late.”

“Some Vampires like to play games. Mayhap she simply wished to prove she can get as close to the queen as she likes?”

She bit her lip. “Or mayhap her true target is the king.” She struggled to her feet. “Come on!”

Chapter 8

R
osalind turned and ran as quickly as she could toward the wing of the palace the king and his household occupied. She kept low, stumbling over tree roots and avoiding overhanging branches that threatened to slap her in the face. Christopher kept pace beside her, his dagger out, his breathing far less labored than her own. With Rhys gone, she was actually glad for both his company and his strength.

She paused at the edge of the copse of oak that over looked the front of the building. In contrast to the queen’s apartments, the entrance to the king’s suite was ablaze with lights, as a constant stream of servants and courtiers entered and left the building. Guards were stationed at all the doors. They seemed untouched by any Vampire spells and unaware of impending danger.

Rosalind bent forward at the waist to try to catch her breath. She was aware of Christopher at her shoulder, his keen gaze trained on the guards.

“The guards seem alert. Do you think we need to go in and check that the king is unharmed?” she panted.

“I will go,” he responded quickly.

“Without me?”

He glanced down at her.“You are scarcely dressed to meet the king.”

She tried to stand up straight. “I look like a boy. No one would recognize me.”

He caught her braid in his fingers and wrapped it around his hand, bringing her face perilously close to his. “You look like a girl playing dress-up in her brother’s clothing. I’ll go. I promise I’ll come back.” He brushed a kiss on her lips and released her braid. “Stay here.”

She watched him walk away, his doublet clutched securely in his left hand. She was caught between annoyance at his superior air and a suspicion that he was right. Her male attire wouldn’t pass muster in the bright light of the king’s chambers. She couldn’t afford to lose her reputation and be sent home in disgrace.

To her relief, Christopher returned quickly and headed toward the tree behind which she was hiding.

“Everything looked well. I wasn’t allowed into the king’s bedchamber, of course, but I got as close as I could.”

“Let’s hope this was just a warning, then.” Rosalind sighed. “I’ll ask the king if you can have greater access to his person.”

A smile flickered on his face. “
You’ll
ask the king?”

She raised her chin.“Yes, he is bound by oath to listen to my family.”

“Verily, is that so?” He regarded her solemnly. “I’d heard rumors that the Tudors had formed a pact with the Druids, but I didn’t really believe them.”

Rosalind winced as she wondered what her family would think of her revealing her secrets to a Druid killer like Christopher Ellis. But what else was she to do? She had to take him into her confidence, or else the Vampire would succeed in killing the king.

She sheathed her dagger. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”

He grinned at her and carefully placed his burden on the ground at his feet. “It has certainly been an adventurous evening. Have you decided where you will sleep tonight?”

“Not with you.”

He grasped her chin in his hand, his intense blue eyes trained on hers.“I want you. I don’t understand why, but I do.”

“Stop wanting me. I’m sure there are many women willing to be seduced by your fine eyes and comely face.”

“You think me handsome?”

She shrugged. “Some women might think so.”

“But not you, because you prefer auburn hair and milk white skin.” His smile disappeared. “Or are you simply too afraid to admit that you desire me?”

She pulled away from him and presented him with her back. “I cannot desire you. You are my enemy.”

“Do you always kiss your enemies?”

“I don’t want you.” She swung around, her hands clenched into fists. “I don’t want
any
of this.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And you think that I do?”

“You are always the one who brings it up.”

“And it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes!”

He held her gaze, his gaze intent. “You heard the prophecy.”

Rosalind brought her hand to her cheek and pushed back the strands of hair stuck to her face. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“And?”

“And I believe it is very relevant to us indeed.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Are you sure?” He advanced until he was standing right in front of her. “I’m beginning to wonder.
The kiss of the rose is death to kin, and three will stand alone…
Perhaps Elias is right and the rose is
you
, Rosalind, rather than the Tudor emblem. Perhaps you are destined to destroy me and my kin by binding me to you with lust.”

“That is absurd. I’m not that powerful.”

His smile was both rueful and desperate.“Your power seems very apparent to me.”

She took two stumbling steps away from him. “I’m going to see if Rhys has returned.”

He grabbed her hand and brought her crashing against his chest. She refused to look up at him. Instead, she stared blindly at the black fabric of his shirt, the laces that closed the neckline, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Does he please you in bed?”

She shuddered as he traced the curve of her jaw with one fingertip.