What Wild Moonlight (28 page)

“She is quite something, isn’t she?” Katya remarked once they were alone.

“Indeed.” He moved to where she stood and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly into his embrace. His lips on hers, he kissed her with a hungry ferocity that warmed her to her toes. After a long, breathless moment he pulled back and softly stroked her cheek. “I consider myself extremely fortunate to have two such remarkable women in my life,” he said.

Katya smiled softly. A tight knot of emotion filled her throat as, warmed by the stark sincerity that blazed from their ebony depths, she studied his eyes. There was an underlying current between them, a wealth of emotion that she could feel, even though the words were not expressly spoken.

“If you’re ready,” he said, “the groomsmen should have the horses saddled by now. I believe Cook has prepared a basket lunch for us as well.”

“I’m ready.”

They moved through the villa and out to the elaborate stone courtyard fronting his home. Ignoring the groomsmen who were waiting to help Katya onto her mount, Nicholas locked his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into the saddle of a chestnut mare. “Be careful,” he admonished solemnly, “her temperament matches her name.”

Katya nervously gathered the reins in her hands. “What is her name?”

“Daisy.”

She arched her brows as an impish grin curved her lips. “Daisy, is it?” she said, stroking the mare’s thick mane. “In that case, I believe I’ll manage.”

He gave her calf a light squeeze and turned to his own mount, swinging easily into the saddle. A groomsman handed him two picnic baskets. He strapped them on either side of his saddle, then tapped his heels against the powerful black’s flanks and sent him into an easy canter; Katya quickly followed. They rode side by side as they moved out onto the quiet road that led away from his villa. But rather than heading east, as they normally did when going into the principality, Nicholas directed them west.

They rode away from the steep banks and rugged cliffs that plummeted to the sea and moved inland instead. Soon they were surrounded by gentle rolling slopes and smooth grassy hills. They moved through fields of wildflowers and moss-covered boulders, past small gurgling streams and dense patches of scrub oak. There was a quiet, subtle beauty to the land that was immediately soothing. While the dramatic cliffs and sparkling sea shouted for attention, the inland areas claimed their praise with a mere whisper.

As they crested a hill they were rewarded with a view of a shallow dale filled with lush, verdant grass interspersed with the brilliant blooms of bright red. Caught up in the beauty of the scene, she shot Nicholas a mischievous look of silent challenge and leaned down low over Daisy’s neck. She spurred on the gentle mare with two sharp kicks that set her galloping across the meadow. Katya bounced merrily in the saddle, giving a shout of laughter and delight as the wind whipped across her face.

Nicholas caught up with her easily, but gallantly held his horse in check so that the race was neck and neck as they sped down the gentle slope. When they neared the tall chestnut that stood as an obvious marker ending the race, he let her pull ahead. She let out a victorious whoop as she reached the tree and pulled on the reins. With a smile of glowing exuberance on her face, she turned to Nicholas and gloatingly announced, “I won.”

For a moment it looked as though he would chastise her for her recklessness. Instead he bowed his head in gracious defeat. “So you did.”

She let out a deep, contented sigh. “That was wonderful,” she exclaimed breathlessly.

Closing the distance between them, she leaned over her saddle and wrapped one hand around Nicholas’s neck, pressing a warm, laughing kiss against his lips. She pulled back abruptly, startled and a little embarrassed by her impetuous gesture. The intimacy she and Nicholas shared had always been a prelude to making love; they hadn’t yet established a place for spontaneous gestures of affection. Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she searched his eyes for a sign that her kiss had displeased him. But his expression was unfathomable, offering her no clue as to what he was feeling.

Slightly disappointed, she looked away and lifted her hand self-consciously to her hair. “It appears as though I’ve lost my hat.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

He tapped his heels against the black’s flanks and sent the animal racing across the meadow, its powerful hooves tearing up the turf as it ran. Once he spotted her straw boater, he leaned out of the saddle and swept it up in a breathtakingly fluid movement of grace and daring. He wheeled around without a break in stride and urged his mount back toward her, presenting her hat with a flourish.

“You ride beautifully.”

“Do I detect a note of surprise?” he asked, picking up on the mild astonishment that filled her tone.

She gave a light laugh. “Frankly, yes. The last time you were out riding, you came into the casino looking as though you had been dragged behind your mount, rather than sitting astride him.”

“Not my finer moments,” he admitted.

“Like the day we met, when you nearly sent our team over the cliff?”

He winced. “Generally I do better than that—although occasionally I have lapses.”

“Oh?” she said, sensing a story behind his words. She relaxed back into her saddle as they guided their mounts in a smooth, easy walk.

“When I was sixteen,” he began, “there was a certain sophisticated, older woman of twenty-three I was determined to impress. After much careful thought and consideration, I decided that the best way to prove my manhood and win her affection was to demonstrate my prowess on the field of honor—in this case, a local horse race.”

Katya smiled. “Did you succeed?”

“That depends on how you define success. I certainly managed to make myself noticed.”

“What happened?”

“It was a crowded race, perhaps twenty riders, but I held the lead from the outset. By all accounts, I should have won… had I not fallen off my horse as I rounded the last bend.”

Her brows shot skyward in alarm. “You did what?”

“Fell off,” he repeated. “Actually, my entire saddle slipped from my mount’s back, sending me tumbling to the ground with it. The cinch had worn thin enough to break apart. Surprising, really, as it was a relatively new saddle. Apparently the leather was not the quality I had assumed it to be.”

“Were you hurt?”

“A broken arm and several bumps and bruises,” he replied with a shrug. “My pride was wounded more than anything.”

“Because you fell?”

A wry grin curved his lips. “Because I displayed the bad form of knocking down several other riders—and their mounts—when I fell. It had rained rather heavily the night before, so we all sloshed about in puddles of mud like a group of drunken quarrymen. As you can imagine, I turned the entire event into a rather outlandish spectacle.”

“I see,” she replied solemnly, attempting to hold back her smile at the image his words conveyed.

“Go ahead and laugh,” he entreated. “Richard and I certainly did—months later, of course.”

“What about the woman you were so desperate to impress?” she asked. “Did she coddle your wounds and nurse you back to health?”

“Not exactly.”

“No?”

“As I recall, she rewarded my noble effort to win her heart with a furious glare for having splashed mud on her silk skirts. Then she left arm in arm with a wealthy duke who was old enough to be her grandfather.”

“That’s hardly a romantic tale, now, is it?”

“Perhaps not. But the event did teach me two important lessons. The first was not to be overly impressed by a pretty face.”

“And the second?”

“Even more important. To check the condition of my saddle before racing headlong across a field.”

Katya smiled softly as they rode on in companionable silence. From time to time Nicholas pointed out an interesting land formation, an unusual tree, or a scampering animal. Generally, however, they remained silent, content to enjoy the simple beauty of the day. At last they crested a sharply sloping hill where they had a view of a cluster of ancient stone buildings. A vineyard flanked the buildings to the east; rolling fields of lavender, orange blossom, jasmine, thyme, mignonette, and violet surrounded it to the west and south. The deep toll of a chapel bell echoed out to them from across the valley.

“The Abbey St. Chamas,” Nicholas confirmed, following her gaze.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed.

A quiver of nervous apprehension surged through her as they moved toward the abbey that held the third and last portion of the scroll. So this is where it all ended, she thought. Where the final clue could be found as to the location of the Stone her ancestors had fought and died for. “It’s not what I expected,” she said after a minute.

“No?”

She shook her head. “I expected to see something far more warlike, with turrets, and towers, perhaps even a moat. After the king went to the trouble of sending his knights to lay siege to the two families, I would think he’d see to it that the scroll remained more tightly guarded.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Perhaps the king only intervened because he had no choice—and because it had all grown rather tedious.”

“Tedious?”

“The plague that had swept across the region had been checked, a benevolent ruler sat on the throne, and the harvests had been plentiful for decades. With the exception of the constant raids and warring between the two families, it was a time of remarkable peace and harmony. When the clans failed to come to terms over the Stone, I suspect the king had reached the end of his patience. Therefore he simply removed the object of their rage—much as a parent might remove a toy from two bickering children.”

Katya might not agree with his description of a glittering blue diamond the size of a man’s fist as a mere toy, but the rest of what he said made sense.

“In any event,” he continued, “the third part of the scroll was useless without the portions the families held in their possession. And neither clan would have dared to raise arms against the monks who resided in the abbey. To do so would have been the ultimate sacrilege.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she murmured in agreement. As they passed through the gates and entered the abbey’s wide courtyard, her attention was diverted by the boisterous shouts of children laughing and playing. She turned to Nicholas with a puzzled frown.

“The monks abandoned the abbey decades ago,” he explained. “It’s now run by an order of nuns. The Sisters of Holy Charity, I believe. St. Chamas is the site of one of the region’s largest orphanages.”

As he finished speaking a group of children ran into the courtyard, swarming around them with gleeful, excited shouts. Nicholas smiled and greeted them in French as he swung down off his mount. He untied the larger of the two baskets that had been strapped to his saddle and set it on the ground; then he moved to Katya and lifted her from Daisy. The children pressed closer, flooding them with a series of animated questions, each shouting to be heard over the other. As Katya’s gaze moved over the group of children, she noted that their ages ranged from those so small they still tottered when they walked, to young adults who shepherded the group.

“I hope you’ll forgive the children’s excitement,” called a soft female voice from behind her. “We don’t receive many visitors.”

She turned to see a woman attired in the long brown robes and stiff white wimple of a nun; a thick wooden crucifix hung from her neck. Once the woman reached them, Nicholas performed the introductions. “Katya, I’d like you to meet Sister Helena, the abbess here at St. Chamas. Sister Helena, Miss Katya Alexander.”

Sister Helena offered her a warm smile. “Welcome to St. Chamas, Miss Alexander,” she said. Katya returned her smile, immediately at ease in the other woman’s presence.

Nicholas lifted the large basket he had untied from his saddle and handed it to the abbess. The sweet smell of almond and cinnamon wafted from within it, causing the children to clamor even louder for attention. The abbess smiled at their enthusiasm and turned to a pretty young girl of perhaps sixteen. “Trina, will you take the children into the kitchens, please?” she said as she passed her the basket. “Perhaps they would enjoy a little milk with their sweets.”

Once the children had departed, Sister Helena turned to Nicholas and said, “I received your message, Lord Barrington, and the generous gift that accompanied it. If you like, I can take you directly in to see the scroll.”

“Thank you.”

They trailed behind her, exiting the courtyard and moving into the largest of the ancient stone buildings. It took a moment for Katya’s vision to adjust to the dimness of the Gothic interior. Once she could see, she noted that they had entered some sort of communal room. Huge rectangular wooden tables flanked by long benches filled the cavernous space. On the perimeters of the room were large bubbling vats and shelves filled with hundreds of tiny vials.

“We are a working abbey,” Sister Helena explained. “In the spring we cut the flowers from the surrounding fields and distill the essence into perfume. In the fall we harvest the grapes from the vineyard and make wine. Our profit is small, but it is enough to pay for most of the costs associated with running the foundling home here at St. Chamas.”

“Have you had any more trouble with thieves breaking into the abbey?” Nicholas asked.

Sister Helena shook her head. “Mercifully no, not since those first two incidents.”

They moved from the large communal room through a barrel-vaulted cloister that led to a large chapel with spectacular stained-glass windows. Sister Helena proceeded to lead them up a steep stone staircase located at the rear of the chapel. “All of the abbey’s ancient manuscripts are held in a chamber just beyond the belfry,” she said. “This particular area has always served as a place of solitude and study; I believe the documents you seek may have been created in this very room,” she said with a soft smile, “but this is only a guess.”

As they moved up the staircase, Katya turned and whispered to Nicholas, “Isn’t this cheating?”

“Cheating?” he repeated with a smile. “I don’t think so.The scroll must remain at the abbey until it is properly claimed, but there was never a decree forbidding either family from looking at the portion held in its trust. I would imagine both families came to view the scroll, but gained no more insight from it than we will.”