The Rebel King

Chapter 10

"Nikolas…" Rhia halted in the middle of the path and touched his arm. "Hold up a minute."

The two of them were alone, for the moment, making their way unescorted through the sun-dappled forest to the meadow where the helicopter waited. Lady Zara had stayed behind to see her exhausted patient to his chambers, and the security guard who had accompanied them on their arrival had returned to his regular post. The hunting lodge had been swallowed by the woods behind them and up ahead the meadow was still only glimpses of gold between dark trunks of trees.

Nikolas paused and turned his head toward her. His eyes were crinkled in a questioning frown, but their focus was on something only he could see.

"We have to talk." She spoke in a low voice, though there was no one to hear her. Her heart had begun to beat hard and fast, and she didn't know why. only that something was dreadfully wrong. "Now. Here-before we get back to the chopper." She heard him exhale, and his gaze lifted and slid past her head. She could feel the tension vibrating through the muscles in his arm. radiating up through her fingers like a low-voltage current of electricity. She gripped his wrist harder, and the urgency she felt was in her voice, now. "What the hell happened back there? Something about that box-that chest-hit you like a ton of bricks. I saw it, so don't try and deny it. And unless I misunderstood him completely, His Majesty just asked me to work with you to find this guy, this… Vladimir. Look-if I'm going to do that. I'm going to have to know what's going on. Everything, Donovan. I don't go into a job blindfolded."

She was completely unprepared when he pulled her to him and wrapped her in a bone-crushing embrace. Unprepared…but her flesh responded to his like thirsty earth to a sudden shower of rain. She felt her blood rise beneath her skin, felt the heat of it and the pressure, and she thought she might burst from it. She gave a sharp gasp that turned into a whimper when his mouth covered hers.

His mouth was hard, the kiss deep, demanding; there was a kind of desperation in it. and an unfathomable hunger. Pressed tightly against his body, she could feel the rapid thud of his heart and the tension quivering in his muscles. Overwhelmed herself, she could only cling to him while her pulses rocketed into warp speed and the earth beneath her feet ceased to exist. She felt her legs buckle and might have fallen if she hadn't been wrapped so tightly in his arms.

He ended the kiss as abruptly as he'd begun it. tearing his mouth from hers with a gasp that was like a small explosion, an escape of passionate and powerful emotions held prisoner too long. Heedless of clips and fastenings, he clutched a handful of her hair in one big hand and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He groaned softly. "Ah…Rhee. You have no idea how much I've needed to do that."

"Yes…I do." Her lips felt numb; she could hardly get the words out. "Because I've needed it, too. Dammit." She could feel herself trembling. Furious with herself for her inability to stop it. she pounded the hard, ungiving muscle of his arm with her fist. "But don't think this is going to distract me, Donovan. I still want to know what it was about that box that upset you. Tell me, dammit. Or-"

He cut her off with another kiss, this one almost playful. "God, I love it when you're assertive." he said huskily against her mouth, sounding like the Nikolas she knew. "It's such a turn-on." He kissed her again, long and slow and deep. Her insides went liquid and warm and she could feel a moan rising dangerously in her throat.

Then he drew back and looked down at her. and his eyes were shadowed and grave. "I wish I could, but I can't. Not now. Not yet. I don't know myself… there's something I need-" He broke off. dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and said firmly. "I need you to taist me. luv. okay? And…I need your chopper. D'you think Corbett Lazlo would mind if we kept it just a bit longer?"

"It's yours to command." Rhia said, but her voice was bumpy as he turned her and pulled her against his side. He held her close with one arm while they continued along the path.

"Good-let's go wake up our pilot, shall we?" His tone was light again, but his eyes were hard, and she could see the tiny muscle working in his jaw.

"The old Perthegon Estate? Sure, yeah. I know where it is. No problem." The helicopter pilot, whose name was Elliot, spoke with an American accent-from New York or thereabouts. Nikolas guessed. The pilot tucked the wrapper from a package of cream-filled cupcakes into the pocket of his uniform shirt and levered himself nimbly up from his lounging position in the doorway of the chopper. "Hop in and buckle up. I can have you there in a jiff."

Nikolas waited for Rhia to climb aboard, then followed.

She took the jump seat opposite the door, leaving the seat beside the pilot for him. The chopper's rotors began to spin while he was still strapping himself in.

"That old place is pretty much a ruin, now, but from what I hear it used to be somethin' else." Elliot shouted above the noise of the chopper's turbine engine. "Ever been there?"

Nikolas shook his head. "Seen pictures-that's about it."

"Real showplace. I guess it was like something out of Disneyland."

"Yeah." Nikolas said.

Disneyland…yeah, that's what this whole thing is like- some kind of fairy tale. Not the happy, chirpy, singing-mice kind, though. The scary kind with wicked stepparents and evil villains and all sorts of blood and gore.

Elliot spoke into his radio and the helicopter lifted into the air. Nikolas's stomach and the golden meadow dropped away, and in minutes the forest had vanished into cloud haze.

As they left the mountains behind, the clouds thickened, becoming patchy fog as they neared the capital city. Situated as it was, on the Kairn River plain just thirty kilometers or so inland from Kairn Bay and the Port of Perth. Silverton was frequently blanketed by the marine layer as it crept inland following the low river valley like a crooked, beckoning finger. Elliot spoke often into his radio mike now. in constant touch with the tower at Silvershire International.

Once across the river and out of the city's busy airspace. Elliot keyed off the mike and jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. "Gonna need to gas this thing up-we're runnin' on fumes. After I drop you guys off at the castle, I'm gonna head on back here to the airport and refuel."

Nikolas nodded. Rhia leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Tell him to bring us back some burgers and fries-I'm starving."

He gave a little laugh half of surprise, half chagrin. He was hungry, too, and hadn't realized it. He'd been too tense, his stomach tied in too many knots to feel anything so mundane as hunger.

As if awakened by the power of suggestion, or out of pure contrariness, his stomach gave a loud growl.

Elliot did another thumb-jerk. "Got a buncha stuff back there in my duffel-keep it handy for times like this when I don't get to make a pit stop. Help yourselves-in fact, take it with you if you want. I can grab a bite at the airport."

"What kind of stuff?" Rhia was already reaching for the duffel.

Elliot grinned. "Junk, mostly. Chips, chocolate bars…stuff like that."

"Yum," said Rhia happily.

The helicopter banked sharply and plunged down through a hole in the clouds.

Elliot deposited them in a field of waving grass plumes and fading meadow flowers on the back side of the house-or castle, more like-and immediately took off again. Holding her hair with one hand against the chopper's turbulence. Rhia turned in a slow circle and said. "Wow."

Nikolas didn't reply. He took off his sunglasses and tucked them in his jacket pocket, then stood gazing at the castle-Perth Castle, ancestral home of Lord Benton Vladimir, the Duke of Perthegon. He didn't know what he'd expected-some kind of blinding revelation, maybe? A vision? At the very least, a clue that would help provide answers to the questions swirling inside his head. Instead there was the same restless stirring all through his body, that had been with him since he'd boarded the Lazlo Group's helicopter in Paris. And at the same time a cold hollow feeling of dread.

The day, it seemed, had turned to match his mood. Tendrils of gray-white fog were coiling up from the river, wrapping themselves around the castle's stone turrets and cupolas and blotting out what was left of the sun. A damp chilly breeze touched the back of his neck like ghost-fingers.

"I don't know about Disneyland," Rhia said, gazing up at the castle, head back, thumbs hooked in her belt. "I'm thinking more along the lines of Dracula."

"The fog does lend it a certain atmosphere." Nikolas said absently. He nodded toward some scaffolding that could be seen climbing the wall far off to their right. "Looks like someone's been doing a bit of work on the place, at least."

"Doesn't appear to be a soul around at the moment, though." There was a pause, and then: "Are you going to tell me now just what it is we're doing here? Because whatever it is, I vote we explore whatever's in that goody bag of Elliot's before we do anything else."

He let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and to his surprise, a laugh came with it. Peeling his gaze away from the castle, he looked at Rhia instead, and felt the knots in his stomach begin to loosen. Her tilted green eyes were studying him intently, and he had the feeling that if she'd had a tail it would have been twitching. Laughing softly, he reached for her with one arm and pulled her against his side.

"That's not what I'd like to explore," he murmured into her hair. His hand crept around her waist and flattened over her stomach…then inched its way upward under her jacket to cradle and measure the weight of one firm round breast.

She socked him smartly on one of his pecs-though her nipple had already hardened treasonously beneath his palm.

"Ow. That's hardly the response I was hoping for.,luv." But he'd felt a shudder ripple through her body-just before she twisted away and out of his reach.

"Stop trying to distract me, damn you. I told you, that's not going to get you off the hook with me. I want to know what we're doing here. What is it you're looking for? If you'd tell me, maybe I could help you find it."

"That would be somewhat difficult." Nikolas said in a musing tone, "considering I haven't got a clue myself."

He turned his back on the castle and gazed out across the meadow, which lay like a messy bed coverlet on the gentle slope. Farther down, closer to the river, it was dotted with copses of trees that almost hid the marshes and the island where the pavilion had once stood, the ruined pavilion where Zara said she and Walker Shaw had found the chest.

The pavilion had been demolished and the vault beneath it filled in, Zara had told him. There was nothing left there now. And in any case, he wasn't keen on the idea of wading through a swamp just to look at an empty ruin, and was pretty sure Rhia wouldn't be, either.

"There's nothing out here," he said, turning back to the castle. "I need to get inside. D'you suppose it's locked?"

Rhia looked over at him and her lips curved in a kitty-cat smile. "Shall we go and see?"

She set off up the hill toward the castle, moving ahead of him with her long athlete's stride. He didn't try to catch up with her; the view from where he was was far too enjoyable.

Their circuit of the castle confirmed Nikolas's fears: All the windows were either locked from the inside or firmly painted shut, and the doors were sporting what appeared to be new and very effective padlocks.

"Well, that's that, I suppose." he said, having given the lock on the massive front doors a fruitless yank. He stepped back and craned his neck to study the upper-story windows. "I guess we can try the scaffold, see if any of the upstairs windows-what are you doing?"

Rhia had taken a small black leather case from her belt and was unzipping it. As he watched with dawning apprehension, she selected several small metal objects from the assortment laid out inside, then tucked the case in her pocket and stepped forward. "Excuse me," she murmured, picking up the lock in one hand and weighing it appraisingly, "this might take me a minute. It's been awhile…"

He said in flat disbelief, "Rhee…those aren't lock picks?"

"Yep." She was intent on the task now, the tip of her tongue clamped between her teeth, eyes narrowed in concentration.

It was hard to tell whether the strange shimmery feeling inside him was wonder or dismay. Stifling laughter, he managed to choke out, "Rhee…luv…are you insane?"

"Shh! Be quiet. Almost…there." She gave the lock a tug and it opened in her hands. She straightened and threw him a triumphant look-a bit of a smug one. too.

He gave an incredulous snort. "Where did you-did Lazlo teach you that?"

She was suddenly very busy returning her tools to their case and not looking at him. but he saw when her smile slipped awry. "No, not hardly-though he did provide me with this nice set of tools." She gave him a sideways look from under her lashes. "Guess I forgot to tell you-I used to be a cat burglar in my former life."

"Come on…seriously." He'd given up trying to stop the laughter, though a cold little breath of unease was wafting across the back of his neck. Or was it only the fog?

"He thinks I'm kidding," Rhia muttered to the brass lion's head on the door.

She pushed the door open all the way, then leaned her back against it and watched him as she waited for him to pass through it ahead of her, chin lifted in unspoken challenge.

He hesitated…almost reached for her…almost touched her. Almost asked the questions he knew she expected, with that look of defiance that couldn't quite hide the vulnerability underneath. But then something-the chill stale wash of air from the closed-up castle, the musty smell of abandonment, perhaps-reminded him of where he was and why he'd come there, and the questions floated away like cobwebs to the back rooms of his mind.

Rhia pushed away from the door and closed it carefully behind her, enclosing them in gloomy darkness that was only slightly diluted by the pale light slipping through the cracks in dusty draperies and the panes of stained glass high in the stone wall above the entrance doors. Feeling vaguely abandoned, she tucked her hands in her jacket pockets and ambled unhurriedly after Nikolas, who was working his way down the vast hall, jerking doors open and looking briefly into rooms.

"What are we looking for?" she asked when she caught up with him. peering over his shoulder at a gray darkness filled with the ghostly shapes of shrouded furniture.

"You remind me of a small child on a long road trip," he said tartly, narrowed eyes still studying what appeared to be a lady's sitting room. He pulled the door shut, shot her a look and mimicked a child's falsetto: "Are we there yet?"

"Oh, very amusing." She folded her arms on her chest and gave him a quelling look. "However, I ask because we are trespassing, and our ride is going to be coming back to pick us up soon, and whatever it is we're here to do, I suggest we get it done quickly. Oh, yeah-and did I mention I'm starving? And that I tend to get bitchy when I'm hungry?"

His soft laughter reached for her in the gloom, then his arms and his warm mouth. "Sorry, luv…" The words of remorse brushed her cheek like a caress, and she melted inside. Her arms found their way around his waist all by themselves. His arms crisscrossed her back and he wrapped her close against him so that she felt the slight jerking of his body when he laughed. "I'm a pig…an absolute prick. I forgot. Of course we should eat something. Where did I leave the bloody duffel?"

"It's back there…by the door." Her reply was muffled against his shoulder, and she released a long, uneven breath that snuggled her even more comfortably against him. Hunger forgotten for the moment, she felt a strange reluctance to let go, a premonition, perhaps, of a future she dreaded and didn't want to acknowledge. A future without him. A shudder rippled through her, and tears burned the backs of her eyes.

Low blood sugar, she told herself. With clenched teeth and willpower, she pulled herself away from him and half ran back across the hall to retrieve the duffel bag from where Nikolas had thoughtlessly dropped it on a huge mirrored hall tree just inside the entrance.

When she returned with the bag, Nikolas had seated himself on a step about halfway up one side of a matched pair of curving staircases that rose like gracefully spread wings to a second-floor landing. As she mounted the stairs to join him, she could feel his eyes drawing her in, almost like a guiding hand. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and in that shadowy light his face looked grave and bleak.

She halted a few steps below him. her eyes on a level with his and a cold, undefined fear coiling in her stomach. "Nik, what-"

"Shh…" He took the duffel bag from her and patted the stairstep beside him. "Food first. Questions later. Let's see what sort of goodies our Elliot has squirreled away."

"You want to eat here?" She was eying the dusty steps.

Nikolas had the bag open and was sorting through its contents. "Good a spot as any. The whole place is dust and cobwebs… Ah-look what we have here. Something called… Cheese Doodles. D'you suppose they actually have cheese in them? That would be protein. I suppose."

"Gimme." Rhia snatched the bag from his hands and plunked herself down on the step below his. squeamishness and premonitions both, for the moment, forgotten. "Oh, my God," she breathed as she tore open the bag and inhaled the familiar smell, "do you have any idea how long it's been since I've eaten a Cheese Doodle?"

"None whatsoever," he murmured as she popped a handful of the dusty orange crunchies into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she chewed, shutting out his expression of horrified fascination.

She opened her eyes and dusted her fingers on her pants, leaving orange-ish streaks. "Mmm-mmm-that was tasty- I used to love these things. What else is there?"

"What? Oh-yes, of course…" Tearing his gaze from her mouth, he dug once more into the bag. "Well. okay, here's something else for you, peanut butter crackers."

"Mmf-hand 'em over. I love peanut butter."

"Of course you do. You're an American. Ah-here's something for me-crisps! That's chips to you, I suppose. Hmm… onion-flavored-not my favorite, but beggars can't be choosers, can they? Oh, and look-the fellow has a sweet tooth, it seems. Here's a tin of biscuits."

"Biscuits? Oh-right. You mean cookies. Goody-hand 'em over." She licked her lips, wiped more orange Cheese Doodle dust on her pants leg and reached for the red plaid tin of Scottish shortbread cookies. Wonder of wonders-they were dipped in chocolate.

He laughed and held the cookies out of her reach. "You are a little glutton, aren't you? Sorry-no dessert until you've had your dinner…" He leaned down and kissed her, just in time to catch her mouth opening in protest.

She felt the kiss all the way down to her toes. Had she ever craved a man's touch so much? If she had. she couldn't recall it. Her head fell back and the world tilted…

Nikolas lifted his head, licked his lips and said thoughtfully. "Hmm…I believe I'm actually acquiring a taste for Cheese Doodles. Let me just see…"

He lowered his mouth to hers again, his hand gentle on her arched throat, lips and tongue firm and clever as they tasted the cheese dust clinging to her lips in teasing nibbles. It tickled, but she felt no desire to laugh. She wanted him with a boundless yearning that made those unfamiliar tears prick at her eyelids again, and helpless anger rise quivering into her chest. And what was this crying thing all of a sudden? She wasn't a crier-never had been. She'd been eighteen years old the last time she'd cried.

A chuckle jerked beneath the hand she'd placed, without realizing it, against his chest. Words whispered softly across her lips. "Mmm…lovely. Wonder if it works with peanut butter as well…"

She pushed hard against his chest, contrary to her heart's desire. Laughing, she scolded in a voice that tried hard to be stern, "Sorry-no dessert until you've eaten your supper," and turned her face away so he couldn't see how desperately she wanted him to kiss her again…and again…and never stop.

"Ah-yes, I suppose you're right." He drew back, wearing a look of mock seriousness, though a grin of appreciation tugged at his lips and his gray eyes were alight with laughter.

Gazing at him, watching him pop open the bag of potato chips, Rhia felt bedazzled. She thought. If he wasn't born to be a head of state, he could be one anyway. With that charm, that charisma, in America he could be a movie star. Hungrily, she watched him put a chip in his mouth and chew, then lick the salt and crumbs from his lips, and she understood the impulse that had made him kiss her.

"You know," he said between munches, giving her an appraising, sideways look. "I must say I'm surprised. I never would have taken you for a junk-food junkie."

She swallowed a mouthful of Cheese Doodles and licked her fingers, then picked up the package of peanut butter crackers. She gave her head a little throwaway toss and said lightly, casually. "I'm not, anymore. Used to be, though. A bad habit I picked up in juvie."

"Juvie?"

"Juvenile detention-you know, jail for kids?" This moment had been inevitable from the beginning, she realized now, but that didn't mean she was prepared for it. She felt her heart racing, her nerves twitching, urging her to jump up and run away from it. Foolish thought; there was no running away from destiny.

"You're kidding."

She shook her head and concentrated on opening the package so she wouldn't have to see his face while she told him. "Nope. That's where I spent a good part of my teenage years, actually."

"What on earth for?"

"Truancy, running away, shoplifting-that sort of thing. I wasn't a good person, Nik. I ran away for the first time about…oh…three days after I got to my dad's house in Palm Beach. Got as far as the bus depot in Miami, that first time, before his security guys picked me up. After that he bribed me to stay-first it was a bicycle, then a wave runner…a scooter…you name it, I had it. I still ran away, though-every chance I got. So, eventually, I wound up in juvie." She shrugged and popped a cracker into her mouth, though her mouth was too dry already.

"And…the shoplifting?" His voice was gentle. She risked a glance at him and wished she hadn't; the sympathy and kindness in his eyes were almost her undoing.

She swallowed the bite of cracker, then took a breath that hurt her chest. "Ah. That. Well…when the running away didn't seem to be working. I thought I'd become a big enough pain in his ass that he'd be glad to get rid of me." She laughed harshly and threw him a bitter smile. "Didn't work, of course. That would have been admitting failure. My dad didn't believe in failure. So…" she wrapped up the remaining cracker in its cellophane packaging paper and began systematically crushing it to smithereens "…on the day I turned eighteen I left for good. Left everything-took some clothes and enough money for a bus ticket to Louisiana and to eat on until I could start earning a living, and that was all. I told my father I was an adult, and if he tried to stop me or come after me I'd get a restraining order." She dropped the pulverized cracker into the duffel bag and leaned back on her elbows, tilting her head back to glare up at him. "And, I know what you're thinking."

His eyebrow shot up. "Do you now?"

Guilt made a hard lump in her chest; rejection of the guilt made her breathlessly angry. "Yeah. You're thinking I was too hard on him-my dad. After all, he didn't abuse me, he gave me presents, put up with all my crap, and I was a spoiled, thankless brat. Well…you'd be right. But there are two things-two…things, okay? One. I was just a kid. And two… he robbed me of my mama. My mother. I can't forgive him for that. I won't forgive him for that."

She was shaking, suddenly too angry to sit still. She would have jumped up, paced up the stairs, run down them…anything to release the pent-up emotions…the rage and the sorrow. But Nikolas's hands were resting on her shoulders, massaging, kneading, compelling…keeping her firmly anchored. And so she gave in to their gentle prompting and leaned her head against his thigh instead, and sighed and closed her eyes. And it felt so good… .so safe there…the tears that had been threatening all day came seeping through and puddled beneath her lashes.

"And did you find her?" Nikolas asked softly, his fingers lightly stroking. "Your mum?"

"How did you know-"

"Hush-" a chuckle stirred through her hair, like a sweet warm breeze "-d'you think you're the only one with empathy? Obviously you went to find her. It's what I'd do."

"I did." Her whole body ached now with the memory… memories of the last time she'd cried. She gave a liquid, hiccupping laugh. "I guess you could say it was…my first missing persons case. And my first failure. Because I was too late. Mama was gone. She died just a few months before I got there. She'd left me…" she drew a shuddering breath "…her saxophone. It's all I have of her now."

Nikolas stared at the stained-glass window at the opposite end of the great hall until his eyes burned dry in their sockets. He asked himself when the conviction had come to him that what he felt for the woman sitting quietly nestled against him, her head resting on his thigh, her soft hair wafting like a baby's breath over his hands…that what he felt for this woman, perhaps the sexiest and most desirable woman he'd ever known…wasn't at all about sex. Well, at least, not all about sex.

Had it ever been?

He thought about that magical long-ago encounter on the balcony of a Paris hotel, and the events that had brought that fantasy creature back into his life, this time as a very real, veiy human, flesh-and-blood woman. Was she a part of it, this destiny with which he seemed to be on a collision course?

His mouth tightened and a little quiver of resolve skated down his spine. She would be a part of his future. He would make sure of that.

With that resolve came emotion, emotion so powerful he didn't know what to do with it, except wrap the cause of it tightly in his arms and bury his face in the soft curve of her neck, close his eyes and breathe the sweet scent of her into his lungs, let her warmth seep into his pores and the shape of her body and the texture of her skin imprint themselves eternally on his mind and his senses, make her his in every way he possibly could. In every way…

The wave of desire that hit him then was unlike anything he'd ever known. It grew out of those overwhelming emotions like a tsunami out of an earthquake… a natural force, impossible to ignore or defend against or deny.

"Memories," he said, and she turned her face up to him, eyes tear-glazed and questioning. He touched her face…cradled her cheek in his hand and answered in a thickened voice, barely able to get the words out, "Memories of your mother- the ones you told me about. You have them, too." At least you have those…

But he didn't say that aloud.