Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 6

  “Of course, she’s going to eat with us.” Bard turned a smile on his whore that was obviously designed to dissolve feminine resistance. “There are so few of us here, it would be ridiculous to split up for dinner.”

  When the whore said nothing, Bard took her elbow with an ease born of familiarity, and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “I’m sure you can find something, Marissa. I might need my sweater, after all,” he said with a wink that could melt knees.

  The whore’s defiance faded into a compliant smile. “Whatever you like, darling,” she murmured, staring up at Bard, and Aurelia knew it was time they parted ways.

  She had no desire to watch this seduction unfold.

  Fortunately, the priest seemed to feel the same way. “Good, that’s settled.” He tapped Aurelia’s elbow crisply. “Why don’t we head upstairs and find you a room, hmm?”

  Aurelia needed no encouragement to follow his lead, though she did not imagine the other pair even noticed them leaving. That irked her, but Aurelia told herself that it was just the breach of good manners that burned.

  It could be nothing else.

  *

  “Just what we need - things going from bad to worse,” the priest muttered under his breath as he trudged up the stairs.

  It was obvious he referred to the whore and equally clear that he was not ashamed of expressing the sentiment.

  “I mean, I knew she had to show up sometime but was hoping for later rather than sooner, if you know what I mean.”

  Aurelia watched him from the corner of her eye, uncertain what to make of this confession. For once, she held her tongue.

  He sighed. “She’s so high maintenance - God! She just drives me crazy. At dinner, we’ll be hearing about all the burdens she has to bear, you can be sure of it.” The priest’s voice rose to a falsetto mimicking Marissa’s accent. “My blow dryer isn’t wired in yet, Baird, darling, can’t you just come along to my room tonight and fix it for me, darling?”

  The priest shrugged as though he would dismiss his irritation and forced a smile for Aurelia. “Sorry. This has nothing to do with you. I shouldn’t be venting.”

  “I understand how you feel,” Aurelia said carefully. “An influential whore can be a great trial in a household.”

  The priest sputtered, then fired an incredulous glance at her. “You’re serious!” he gasped.

  Aurelia was confused by his surprise. “You do not agree?”

  The priest’s lips twisted, then he abruptly laughed out loud. “Well, yes, I do, actually, but people seldom state the truth so bluntly.” He chuckled to himself for a moment, then shook his head.

  Aurelia was unable to see the difficulty in calling someone by their station in the household, let alone what was amusing about it. “If that is her place, then there’s no point in garnishing the truth.”

  The priest shrugged. “Well, I suppose not, though calling Marissa a whore might be a bit harsh.”

  Aurelia blinked. “Is that not what she is?”

  The priest fired a sidelong glance in Aurelia’s direction. He coughed behind his hand. “Technically, I wouldn’t know precisely what happens in Baird’s bed,” he said archly. “She does do the interiors of every Beauforte Resort, though I have to say that I don’t think she’s overly talented.” He sniffed with obvious disdain. “I suppose anyone could make their own conclusions from that.”

  “Does the interiors?” Aurelia echoed.

  The priest waved to the hall below as they reached the landing. “She buys stuff, picks colors, chooses furnishings, wall paper, lamps, flooring tiles. You know, she does interior design.”

  It seemed ridiculous to make up a new name for a practice as old as time. Obviously, the pleasures Marissa gave Bard in bed loosened his purse strings - and her position as his mistress granted her a household position similar to a wife.

  Aurelia levelled a knowing glance at the priest as they mounted the stairs. “She spends his coin.”

  That man’s lips quirked at her terse summary. “Yes. In a way, yes, that’s what she does.” The priest gestured to the lavish room behind them. “She bought all that. And all this.” He threw open the carved wooden doors at the summit.

  The doors swung inward silently despite their obvious weight and a long hallway hung with glistening crystals was revealed. Countless doors marched on either side of the corridor, following one after the other as far as Aurelia could see.

  The tapestry cast on the floor here was crimson, crisscrossed with a rope pattern worked in shades of gold. It gleamed with the luster of silk, was as thick as a cushion, and stretched on seemingly forever. Aurelia could not even imagine how long it would have taken to weave, let alone how many women would have to lend their hands to the task.

  It was shocking to think of walking on such a work, but the priest strode across it without a second thought. He paused before the fourth door on the left side of the corridor.

  “And this.” The priest slid a thin square into a slot above the door handle. Aurelia saw something red flash, then he pulled back the square into his hand, as though he would conceal it from her. He opened the door.

  It was a ritual, obviously, a protective spell.

  But now, the priest had disappeared inside and left her behind. Aurelia took the two longest steps she could manage - on her tiptoes - across the magnificent tapestry to reach the narrow strip of wood flooring revealed on the far side. She sidled along the wood, careful not to step on the tapestry again, and peeked through the door that the priest held open.

  And was amazed by the magnificence of the furnishings. The room was ornamented in a deep and pleasing sapphire hue, the bed hung with heavy tapestries, the floor thick with rugs.

  “King Bard’s chambers,” Aurelia whispered, certain that this luxury could be for no one else.

  It was shockingly intimate to look upon his private chambers. Aurelia was certain the king would have words for the priest, had he guessed that she was here.

  Perhaps it was the fact that this was a stolen view that made a heat unfurl in Aurelia’s stomach as she eyed the great bed. It was so easy to imagine Bard sleeping there.

  Nude.

  On his back, as all warriors slept, one hand flung out across the pallet. His broad chest would be tanned golden, the dark hair that adorned it slightly curly. Aurelia’s toes curled at the vivid image she had of him. He would smile that provocative half-smile when he awakened and his eyes would glitter that dangerous sea green.

  And his strong fingers would rest on the hip of his whore, who curled by his side in a most proprietary manner.

  Aurelia inhaled sharply and glared at the priest, uncertain why the thought of Bard’s whore troubled her so much. The pair deserved each other!

  The priest shook his head. “No. Baird’s room is the first one.” He nodded to the left. “This one might as well be yours.”

  Aurelia blinked, but he was not teasing her. Though she was a noblewoman, Aurelia had expected accommodation markedly more austere.

  Like a dank, stone cell.

  “It’s no big deal,” the priest said with a shrug, evidently noticing Aurelia’s surprise. “It’s just one of the guest rooms.”

  Such a room for guests.

  For any guest who stumbled into the hall.

  Aurelia wandered into the room in disbelief. She touched the silken softness of the thick bed curtains and felt the carved solidity of the bedpost beneath.

  Suddenly she thought of all the doors facing this corridor and swiveled to face the priest. “And the other doors?” she demanded, half-expecting his answer but not daring to believe such whimsy possible.

  The priest shoved his hands into pockets hidden in his chausses. “They’ll all be guest rooms, once they’re finished.”

  All of them! Aurelia’s mind darted ahead. There had to be fifty rooms in this hall alone. And Marissa had made each one finer than the last - simply to entertain guests!

  Oh, she was an expensive indulgence, to be sure.<
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  “How can you imagine that she is not his whore?” Aurelia demanded, before realizing she had given voice to the thought.

  The priest hooted with laughter and Aurelia felt her cheeks stain pink. But his twinkling glance was without condemnation and oddly enough, his merriment put her in mind of her lost brother Thord.

  The memory saddened Aurelia.

  The priest sobered when she did not share his laughter. “Whatever she does now, Marissa hasn’t made any secret of her ambition to marry Baird, at least to everyone other than Baird himself.” He frowned. “I wish he’d open his eyes for a change.”

  Aurelia’s mind flew. Marissa as wife would be even more influential than she was as whore. It made perfect sense that she would seek such a position.

  And just as much that the priest would be adverse to having such a powerful adversary lodged at Bard’s side over the long term. Evidently, it pleased him that Aurelia and the whore had not taken to each other.

  But why?

  The pieces fit together with horrifying precision. The priest had mentioned the prophecy of Aurelia’s birth in the well. Further, the priest had not made a murmur of protest when Aurelia had seized the excuse for looking like a fool and kissed the king.

  Finally and perhaps most tellingly, the priest had chosen this fine prison for Aurelia.

  Could the priest be planning for her to marry Bard, son of Erc, instead of that man’s whore? Aurelia’s mouth went dry. There were too many things lining up to be counted to be accidental.

  She had to know the truth.

  When Aurelia spoke, she was careful to keep her tone frivolous. “But what does King Bard think of such plans? Surely he has a picked a bride for himself?”

  “Right. He can’t see for looking when it comes to women.” The priest was skeptical. “And he’d do better to marry someone with connections anyhow.”

  Aurelia toyed with the bed curtains. “Connections?”

  “Sure! A woman from a prestigious family, you know, one with property that Baird could develop, or with an influential father. That’s the kind of wife he needs, not the daughter of some bank teller in Des Moines who only wants to spend his money as quickly as he can make it.”

  “Des Moines?”

  The priest grimaced. “It’s infinitely forgettable. I’m not surprised that you haven’t heard of it.” He wagged a warning finger at Aurelia. “But I’ll tell you one thing, they don’t talk like that in Des Moines.”

  Aurelia kept her mouth shut, because she could not understand what he was talking about.

  “She’s as fake as a three dollar bill. Watch the accent,” the priest hissed. “When she gets ticked off “ - he snapped his fingers - “ it’s midwest twang all over.”

  The priest shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, the very image of a discouraged man. “I can’t figure out why he can’t see that she’s not his type at all.” He sighed. “It’s Jessica all over again.”

  And who was Bard’s type, to the priest’s mind?

  A woman with a prestigious family. A woman with a powerful father. A woman with a property Bard wanted.

  A woman just like Aurelia.

  Knowing it had been done a thousand times before did not make the reality any easier to face. Aurelia’s heart trembled at the prospect of being wed to a deceitful murderer, a conqueror with an iron will and an enchanting kiss.

  Against her volition.

  And apparently against Bard’s. But this priest was powerful, that much Aurelia knew already. Bard had staged her reawakening to comply with the prophecy of her birth, evidently at the priest’s bidding - or at least, he had not fought the priest on this.

  Was he already bowing to the priest’s scheme?

  Bard wanted Dunhelm and at any cost, Aurelia knew that. And with her father missing, Bard could secure his ascendancy over Dunhelm by marrying the former king’s daughter.

  Aurelia swallowed and let the drape slide through her fingers. Her imagination supplied the image of Bard nude in this bed once more.

  Except this time, his hand was on her own bare hip. Aurelia felt the strong imprint of his lips moving against hers, felt again the weight of his hands locked around her waist.

  It was Bard’s fault that her thoughts were muddled, Aurelia concluded savagely. His kiss had confused her.

  No. Liking his kiss had confused her.

  Aurelia crushed the rich fabric in her hand. She hated that she had already been so readily manipulated. Would she be able to resist Bard’s charm if it was turned fully upon her? Or would her feminine weakness betray both her and her family?

  She suddenly became aware that the silence between herself and the priest had stretched overly long, and rushed to fill it with the first thought that came to mind.

  “My mother oft said that men do not marry their whores.” Aurelia heard a sharpness in her voice that she had not intended. “Even if they indulge them.”

  The priest chuckled and watched her with twinkling eyes. “Why would a man buy the cow when he can have the milk for free, right?”

  It was an apt parallel. Aurelia met the priest’s dancing gaze and was reminded again of her lost brother. Even knowing his intentions for her, Aurelia could not help but smile tentatively back.

  He grinned and stuck out his hand. “Julian Preston. Call me Julian.”

  Aurelia stared at his hand, then took it as that seemed to be his expectation. Julian squeezed her fingers, pumped her hand up and down twice, then released it.

  A strange gesture indeed. Aurelia wondered what it meant.

  “And you may call me Aurelia.”

  “Instead of Princess?” Julian seemed to be struggling not to laugh. The similarity to Thord was most telling when his eyes danced and Aurelia, despite her determination not to like the priest, felt some sisterly affection dawn within her.

  “Only in private, of course,” she advised him, much as she would have advised her brother with his short memory for such details. “In the hall, you will still have to use my title.” Aurelia frowned, unable to understand why this was so amusing to the priest.

  Did they not have decent manners in Rome either?

  “Well, make yourself at home.” Julian waved cheerfully and tossed his blessing square towards Aurelia.

  She no sooner caught it than he was gone, leaving Aurelia alone in the chamber decorated by Bard’s whore. The door closed with a solid click that made her realize this chamber, regardless of its richness, was a prison, after all. And, as his prisoner, Aurelia was subject to the whim of Bard, son of Erc.

  Whatever that might be.

  *

  Chapter Five

  Aurelia waited a few moments, then surreptitiously checked the door. She fully expected it to be secured from the outside.

  But it was unlocked.

  To Aurelia’s further amazement, the corridor outside was empty. The distant sounds of hammering carried to her ears, but no guard was posted watchfully outside.

  Ha! They must think her witless, after all! She propped open the door with her toe and slid Julian’s magic square into the slot, exactly as he had done.

  Nothing happened.

  But there had been a light when Julian did it. Perhaps she did not know the proper incantation. Who knew what Julian might have muttered under his breath, or whispered in his mind? She stepped out into the corridor, trying to examine the slot in better light.

  The door closed with a resolute click.

  Aurelia turned the handle, but the door was locked against her! She was trapped in the corridor, of all foolishness! What kind of malicious magic was this?

  In desperation, Aurelia shoved Julian’s card into the slot once more, but this time, a red dot glowed thrice.

  It was a sign. Three was a powerful number, that much was certain, and red, a color of protection for ages past.

  It must be safe to enter the chamber once more.

  Aurelia cautiously tried the handle again, and magically, the door was now unlo
cked. She darted inside, fingering the card, and marveled at Julian’s power. Aurelia fought to make sense of Julian giving her the ability to lock herself outside of the room and could not.

  Perhaps his spell had twisted itself backwards. Such things happened when magic was wrought in haste.

  Or perhaps Julian was less powerful than Aurelia had feared. Now that was an encouraging thought! Aurelia grinned with satisfaction and her mind worked furiously. What should she do? At any moment, Julian could repair his spell and trap her inside the chamber.

  This might be her only opportunity to find her sire without observation.

  Clearly, her father was either dead or imprisoned. And if Aurelia were in Bard’s place, intending to let Hekod be forgotten, where would she have imprisoned the deposed king? The answer was simple beyond all.

  In the sea caves.

  Aurelia clutched Julian’s magical talisman, scanned the corridor once more, then abandoned her room. She darted down the corridor in the opposite direction of the great reception hall. When Aurelia opened the last door at the end of the corridor, she found a flight of stairs markedly less ornate than those she and the priest had climbed.

  No one was behind her. Aurelia lunged down the stairs. There was only one door at the bottom, red letters above it declaring: FIRE EXIT.

  On the door itself, a sign read: For Emergency Exit Only. If Door Is Opened, Alarm Will Sound.

  Aurelia hesitated, then frowned. Who would sound this alarm, if no one saw her open the door? She looked over her shoulder, but she was definitely alone.

  Ha! More lies! Aurelia was developing a very low opinion of Bard’s household security. She shoved open the door and a shrill ringing suddenly filled her ears.

  Oh no! Julian had laid a spell on the door!

  Aurelia muttered something unladylike under her breath. Her heart thundering in her ears, she fled Bard’s hall as fast as she could. Hopefully there was no witchery left to discern her path.

  *

  Baird’s head snapped up from the travertine marble samples when the fire alarm went off. “Is this another test? I thought they were done yesterday.”