CHAPTER TWELVE
The London street was alive with people going about their business and Kieran decided, now that he had the proper shoes, that walking back to the hotel was a good idea. Moreover, it would give him a closer look at the city he had once known. The England he had risked his life for. Rory agreed, but not before she handed him the packages he had obviously considered beneath his station to carry.
While Kieran stared and pointed and asked questions, Rory was on the look-out for a tea house. Lunch wasn’t a big meal in England, as she had been told, and suspected their best bet for getting something to eat would be in either a pub or a tea shop. Finding a quaint little business down the street from the department store, she sat Kieran down at a table on the fragrant patio and went inside to order tea and scones.
Knowing the appetite he had displayed earlier, Rory ordered six fruit scones, clotted cream and fruit, and a large pot of tea. Carrying it to the table on a tray, she set it down and took a seat opposite the knight. He watched her closely as she broke open the scone and spread it with cream, pouring his own tea and imitating the milk and sugar as she had done at breakfast.
Once he had a taste of the scones, however, Rory was only able to eat half of her own before he ate everything on the tray. Ordering more tea and more scones, she returned to the table only to find him staring at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, somewhat sarcastically. “Didn’t I get enough?”
He took a scone and broke it open, nearly crumbling it until Rory came to the rescue. As she salvaged the biscuit, he continued to stare at her.
“I was merely thinking,” he said softly as she passed him his broken scone.
“About what?”
He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “About the future. And what is to become of me after I have completed my mission.”
Rory looked up from preparing her own scone. Not an entirely odd question considering she had been pondering that very same problem only minutes earlier. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, still eating. “Exactly that. I find myself in a world that is nothing as I ever dreamed it would be, a completely stranger in the land of my birth. Tell me, Libby; is there a knighthood today?”
She shook her head. “Not as you knew it. There are knights, but it is mostly a symbolic title. Modern-day knights are soldiers in the military, or cops on the street, but it’s nothing like you knew it to be.”
He pondered her statement, moving for another scone. “What are ‘cops on the street’?”
“Police officers. Men and women who enforce the law of the country.”
That concept wasn’t entire foreign. “I see. And this military; you speak of the king’s troops?”
She smiled faintly. “The queen’s troops, Sir Kieran. A woman has ruled England for forty years.”
He raised an eyebrow, a look she equated with the arrogant male ego inside every man. “A woman? And what is this woman’s name?”
“Elizabeth,” Rory replied. “She’s an extremely capable and prestigious monarch. But her children….”
She shook her head and Kieran nodded in understanding. “I see nothing changes from century to century. Do they plot against her?”
She laughed. “Not as far as I know.”
“Do they vie for her power? Seek to turn the country against her rule?”
Rory continued to laugh. “No, no. They’re just… colorful, that’s all. They’re not a vicious band of petty royals like you’ve come to know.”
He finished his seventh scone. “All royals are petty, greedy and unscrupulous. Except for Richard, of course.”
“What?” Rory scoffed in outrage. “He plotted against his father, for God’s sake.”
“That was different. Henry was an incompetent ruler. Unscrupulous himself.”
She shook her head. “Oh, brother. I can see where this conversation is going to wind up.”
He was munching on another scone. “What do you mean?”
She smirked, downing the last of her scone before he could steal it. “It means that Richard can do no wrong in your eyes no matter what history proves. You’ll defend him until the end.”
“He is my king,” Kieran’s voice was considerably softer. “’Tis right that I defend him. ’Til the death, if necessary.”
The mood suddenly took a down-turn. Sensing the dampened ambience, Rory watched the man as he set his half-eaten scone to the plate, drinking what was left in his cup. When he settled back against the chair and allowed his gaze to rove the small garden against the shop wall, Rory set her own cup down.
“Before we got off the subject, you asked what was going to become of you,” she said softly, her chin resting on her palm. “All I can tell you is that I don’t know. But considering I dug you up and somehow roused you from your eternal sleep, I feel responsible for you. So until the situation changes, you’ll stay with me.”
He looked away from the garden, his gaze drinking in the beautiful chestnut-haired woman with the wide hazel eyes. Not strangely, the prospect of staying with her was not an unpleasant one. Nor was it a surprising suggestion, considering it was her kiss that had roused him. A kiss from the one who loved him best.
“You are most gracious, my lady,” he said, his gem-clear eyes glittering in the soft sunlight. “I look forward to our time together.”
She cocked an eyebrow, ever-prepared to take advantage of any situation to further her cause. First her mother, then with Bud, now with Kieran. She simply couldn’t let the opportunity pass. “Enough to let me help you find the crown?”
He didn’t grow defensive as he had done previously when the crown was mentioned. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders. “It is the one task I must complete now that I have been awakened. My sole reason for existing on this earth. You will forgive me if I again decline.”
Rory’s face darkened. “Why?”
“Because it is my burden alone.”
The mood that had been soft and gentle, warm and interesting was abruptly shaded with fury. Rory smacked the table with an open palm as she faced off against him. “No, it’s not. I thought we discussed this earlier.”
He refused to give in to her anger. “Nay, lady, you discussed it earlier. My conviction has always been the same; I will retrieve it alone and return it to England as I had intended eight hundred years ago.”
She gasped in disbelief, her cheeks mottle with resentment. “Not a moment ago you were lamenting what was to become of you, thanking me when I offered to take care of you. So you think that you’ll be able to travel to Israel alone to claim your crown? Think again, buster. You can’t go anywhere without me!”
An eyebrow slowly lifted at her angry tone, her unbridled words. “I can and I will.”
She was on her feet, agitated and completely ignorant of the other customers in the shop. “Why? Because you don’t want me sharing in your glory?”
“I thought you weren’t after glory.”
In an indignant huff, Rory clumsily grabbed their bags and stormed from the shop. Kieran calmly finished his tea before following. He found her about a block down the street, marching determinedly through the crowds of London shoppers. Catching up to her, he reached out to grab her arm and ended up spilling several packages to the ground.
“Let go of me!” she snarled, struggling to collect the goods as he calmly assisted her. “Just… go away and leave me alone! Go and find your damn crown and I hope the next assassin who catches up to you is successful in his endeavor!”
She tried to move away from him but he held her firm. “Enough of your impudence, lady. I have my reasons for what I must do and I am sorry if you feel excluded.”
She succeeded in yanking her arm away. “And I have my reasons, too, but you seem to only care for yourself,” she swallowed hard as she met his steady brown eyes, horrified to realize that tears were close to the surface. “Your motives are no more important than mine. Don’t you see? If I find the crown, I’ll bring the profession of Biblical Archaeology to the forefront. The university will be the recipient of grants and funding, I will have proven that I’m not just a silly young doctor with outlandish theories, and my mother will finally be proud of me.”
He stared at her. “Your mother?”
Rory tried to maintain her gaze, but her features crumbled and she turned away. Kieran grabbed her arm as she struggled weakly, her hands too full to wipe her tears.
“My… mother is a doctor of Ministry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I was her only child. Ever since I was young enough to understand, I knew my mother wanted me to make something great of myself. She’s such a demanding person, Kieran, never satisfied. The more I achieved, the more she wanted. So I thought… I hoped that finding the crown of thorns, one of the most powerful Biblical relics in history, would finally make her proud of me.”
He took the packages from her, holding the bags in one hand and her in the other. “So this is the void you are trying to fill with the reclamation of the diadem?” he asked softly. “You seek to give your mother a reason to love you?”
She shrugged, wiping at her damp eyes. “I just never lived up to her standards. I always felt like such a failure no matter what I did.”
His features were soft with compassion. “Then I know your feelings well. My father was much the same,” he watched her as she struggled for a kleenex in her purse, realizing more similarities between them. A mother who was looking for reasons to be proud of her daughter, and a father who had been looking for reasons to be proud of his son. A son who had risked his life in the name of peace, pride, and Glory. “Do you truly believe that the recovery of the diadem will mend all wounds between you and your mother?”
She shrugged, sniffling. She couldn’t believe that she had actually confessed her deepest incentive for recovering the crown, the desperate reasoning of a neglected child finding a way to buy her parent’s love. But it was something that had affected Rory her entire life and she truly knew no other way; at the root of the entire situation, her schooling, her determined motives, her search for the crown, was the very basic factor of a mother’s ignorance.
Pity she hadn’t asked Kieran what he knew of parental neglect. He would have been able to give her a good deal of personal, if not painful, insight.
“My mother became the first woman in the university’s history to sit on the Board of Regents,” she said softly. “She was the one who convinced the board to approve funding for my dig in Nahariya. If I fail at this, not only will she look like a fool but it’ll just cement the fact that I’ll never be good enough at anything to please her. I… I just couldn’t face that happening. Not when I’ve worked so hard.”
He didn’t reply for a moment, studying her delicious beauty as she struggled to compose herself. She was a proud woman and he could easily imagine the turmoil of her soul. To be so close to what she sought only to be denied. Aye, he knew well how she felt. He had been very close to completing an important task once himself, only to be cast off track by forces beyond his control. He could sympathize with her completely.
He kissed her gently on the forehead in understanding, in surrender. With every moment that passed, every tear that fell, he felt himself weakening toward her plight. It was obvious they both had a good deal invested in the elusive diadem and his resistance toward her aid was dissolving; in fact, Kieran was a firm believer in the powers of Fate. If God had permitted him to awaken in this time by a woman who knew of his duty all to well, then he would be a fool to refuse her assistance. Indeed, he would be a fool not to realize that God had placed her here for his use.
“You are not a failure, Libby,” he said softly, pondering the will of God as he was coming to perceive it. “You found me, did you not?”
It sounded like an egotistical statement, but it was the truth. “Yes, I found you,” she wiped at her nose, the thrill of his tender kiss almost enough to make her forget her tears. “But no one will ever believe that you and the knight I dug up at Nahariya are one in the same.”
“Aye, they will,” he gave her a quick squeeze before leading her down the sidewalk. “And if they do not believe me, then I shall be forced to prove it.”
She dried the last of her tears, casting him a wary look. “What does that mean?”
He simply grinned, his dimples carving a deep path into each cheek. “Why, I shall be forced to defend your word, of course. Do men fight with broadswords these day? I notice that no one carries a weapon. And I see no armor, either.”
She smiled weakly. “No one carries a sword any longer. Just guns.”
His brow furrowed. “What is guns? Furthermore, what is this university you spoke of earlier? And why would you mother want to sit on a board when there are finer chairs for ladies made available? These references are most confusing, Libby.”
She sighed, preparing to launch into what would undoubtedly become another long, painfully detailed conversation as they made their way back to the hotel.
*
“Rory, where in the hell are you?” Bud was trying to control himself.
Seated on the bed at the other end of the line, Rory struggled to brace herself for the ensuing conversation. But it was an increasingly difficult fight as she listened to the familiar comfort of Bud’s voice. “I’m at a hotel and I’m fine. But I’ve got to talk to you.”
Bud clapped his hand over his face in a gesture of disbelief and frustration. “Christ,” he muttered. “I’ll say you’ve got to talk to me. Tell me where in the hell you are and we’ll talk in person.”
“I can’t, Bud. Not now. Will you please just listen to me?”
“Listen to you?” he was trying desperately not to explode. “Listen to what? More cryptic answers? Christ, I should have never let you go to the hospital alone. What in the hell was I thinking?”
“You were doing what I asked,” she replied steadily. “Please calm down, Bud. I need your level head. Ok?”
He sighed heavily. What choice did he have? “All right, all right. So go ahead and tell me what happened after we parted last night.”
She took a deep breath, contemplating her answer. Kieran was playing with the shower, having grown tired of the light switch. Rory watched him a moment before replying.
“I went to the morgue just like I said I was,” she said softly. “And I… I broke into it.”
On the other end of the line, Bud closed his eyes to the reality of her confession. “And then what, honey?”
There was no way to skirt the subject gracefully. Better that she simply jump into it and pray to God that he didn’t think she was completely out of her mind. Her palms began to sweat as her grip on the receiver tightened.
“I only meant to say good-bye to Sir Kieran like I told you,” she said quietly. “I’ll admit, I’d had too much to drink and I wasn’t thinking clearly. The morgue was closed for the night so I broke the receptionist’s window to get in.”
“And did you found him?”
“Yeah,” her tone was growing increasingly soft. “He was in a drawer, naked. Can you believe that, Bud? His family even took his clothes. They took everything from him.”
“I know, honey. Go on.”
She swallowed, summoning the courage to continue. “So I said my good-byes. And then I fell asleep on him because I was drunk and exhausted. And… Bud?”
“I’m here.”
Oh, God. Here it comes. “When I woke up, he was moving.”
There was a long, long pause on the line. “He was what?”
“Moving,” she repeated, stumbling over her words. “I thought it was my imagination. At first, his eyes were open and I thought it was due to the change in climate and the deterioration of the body. But then… then he blinked. And before I realized what was happening, he spoke to me.”
Bud didn’t say anything. And then Rory heard what she thought was a moan.
“Rory, honey, where are you?”
He sounded exceptionally distressed and Rory felt her defenses go up. She could only imagine what he must be thinking.
“Look, Bud, I’m not insane. I’m not drunk, and I’m not imagining things. Sir Kieran wasn’t dead; he’s very much alive. And I’m sitting here looking at him.”
Bud didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say. But he had never felt so completely terrible in his entire life and before he could stop himself, his eyes began to water.
“Honey, just tell me where you are. Let me come and get you and I promise you won’t be in any trouble. Please, baby. Just tell me where I can find you.”
He’s crying, Rory thought with anguish. The reality of Bud reduced to tears because he thought she had gone insane only set Rory into another emotional fit and she sobbed softly into the phone. “Bud, I’m not crazy. Please don’t… please don’t cry. I swear to you on the Holy Bible that Sir Kieran Hage wasn’t dead when we found him. As he explained it, he was in some sort of stasis. Remember how beautifully preserved he was? The flexibility of his tissue, the lack of decomposition? It was because he wasn’t dead at all; he was in suspended animation.”
On the other end of the phone, Bud sniffled loudly, wiping at his face and struggling to maintain control. “Christ, Rory… I just can’t go on with this conversation. Please, I’m begging you; tell me where you are. Let me come and get you.”
She paused, noting that Kieran was watching her as she dabbed at her tears. She hadn’t intended for Bud to see Kieran quite so soon, at least not before could amply prepare him, but she couldn’t stand his misery. And she couldn’t allow him to think that she had gone off the deep end into madness, thinking that somehow it was his fault by letting her go to the morgue alone. If seeing was believing, she would have to make Bud a believer for his own sake.
“All right,” she whispered. “Go to Bloomsbury Square, near the museum. I’ll meet you there in a half-hour.”
She hung up the phone before she could hear any more of his tears. When she looked up, Kieran was standing beside her.
“This Bud. Is he your husband?”
“No.”
“Your lover, then.”
“No,” she stood up, going to get a tissue from the bathroom. “He’s an archaeologist like me. And my friend. He was with me when we exposed your grave.”
Kieran continued to stand beside the bed as she wiped her face, blew her nose, and repaired her damaged makeup. When she returned to the bedroom, he reached out to gently grab her arm as she passed by him.
“We are going to meet Bud?”
She nodded. “He the smartest man I know and I really think we could use his advice as to how to handle this… situation.”
Kieran didn’t let go of her arm; in fact, his massive fingers were caressing her flesh and Rory found herself forgetting all about Bud’s misery. In fact, Kieran looked fairly miserable himself.
“What’s the matter with you?”
He continued to hold her arm tenderly, somehow pulling her closer, and Rory was electrified by the sensations of his magnificent touch.
“I heard what you said,” he said quietly. “Am I to understand… the place I awoke in was some sort of vault and you violated its security to see me? Is that why we left so quickly? Because you were afraid of the clops?”
“Cops,” she corrected softly.
He didn’t acknowledge her subtle rectification, his clear-brown gaze finding her luscious hazel. “I may not be of this time, Lady Rory, but I understand a great deal. You were not supposed to be with me when I awoke, were you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“And you are in trouble because of me.”
“I’m in trouble because I wanted to say good-bye to you and nothing could stand in my way, not your family or a locked morgue window.”
He maintained his gaze, looking deep into her beautiful eyes. “With all else that has happened to me in the past several hours, I failed to understand the precise circumstances of my awakening. I comprehend now what you meant when you said you risked everything to raise me from the grave.”
She could hardly breathe through the force of his hypnotic stare. “Only partly,” she whispered. “After all, I found you and even though you officially became your family’s property, I still felt attached to you. I… I just couldn’t let you go that easily. I had to tell you good-bye before I left for home and never saw you again.”
“Then why did my descendents take custody of me if I was your ‘find’, as you said?”
“I turned you over to them as a gesture of good-will because you were their revered ancestor. And also because Bud convinced me that you would be better off in the country you had died for. It was where you belonged.”
She had somehow moved closer to him, his other hand coming up to gently enclose her free arm. “Even if England is where I belong, you were reluctant to let me go.”
She nodded unsteadily, feeling the heat and emotion between them like a raging vortex. “You were… mine.”
He smiled faintly and her knees went weak; she literally had to catch herself from falling. All of the enchantment and wonder she had felt for him since the moment she had uncovered him was multiplying by the moment. Her respiration began to come in sharp pants, her limbs aching from the magic of his touch. When he began to gently stroke her cheek with his thumbs, she thought she might faint from pure pleasure.
“And you love me?”
She heard the question, responding before she could form a rational denial. “I do,” she breathed. “God, I do. I always have.”
His smile broadened. Rory hardly realized that she had been pulled against his massive body, feeling his flesh and warmth envelope her like a glove. Gone was the fear of his intimacy, the earlier thoughts of confusion and distress. In fact, she found herself wishing she had bought that over-priced negligee; never in her life had she felt more fulfilled, more satisfied, or more complete. As if, always, this was meant to be.
And then he kissed her.
But it was no ordinary kiss. It was a raging promise of passion, a silent vow of a timeless desire were she only to submit. Rory responded immediately, as if she had never known another man’s kiss but his. Scorching, heated, tongues intertwining with mesmerizing power; Rory felt it all, sensed it all. When Kieran’s arms wrapped around her, she knew at last she had found what she had been searching for.
She was hardly aware when he lifted her from the ground and carried her to the bed. Suddenly, she was on her back and his mouth was all over her face, her neck, suckling gently on her ears. His massive body was warm and protective and comforting and she could feel his hands moving to her breasts, touching the exposed skin of her abdomen and causing her to gasp softly in response. He growled low in his throat, his fingers moving underneath her shirt. And then he stopped.
“What is this?” he demanded huskily.
He was fingering her bra. Rory was about to undo the fastens when a brief flash of sanity reminded her that she had asked Bud to meet her in the square. Panting like a dog in heat, she looked to her watch and groaned softly.
“No, Kieran… we can’t,” she murmured, trying to roll away from him. “We’ve got to meet Bud.”
He kept her on the bed, nuzzling her neck. “I would rather do this.”
She was grasping for composure, sucking in her breath sharply when his hot, wet lips found her earlobe. “No,” she grunted in a last show of strength. “Please, Kieran. We have to see Bud. It’s important.”
He raised his head to look at her, his beautiful brown eyes glazed with passion. “More important than this? It has been at least eight hundred years since I last had a woman. Would you deny me now?”
There was something in that question she didn’t like. Brow furrowed, she pushed herself away from him and regained her feet. He rolled onto his side, watching her with a lazy smile.
“Look,” she said pointedly. “I don’t care how long it’s been since you last had a woman. I’m not here to service you like some whore. I’m not obligated to relieve your needs in any way, shape or form.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I never said you were. But you said you loved me and I was allowing you to demonstrate that love.”
He couldn’t have possibly said anything worse. Rory stared at him as if she hadn’t heard correctly; then, she whirled on her heel and stormed toward the bathroom.
Kieran was on his feet before she took two steps. For as large as he was, he was as agile as a cat and Rory took a swing at him when he tried to stop her. He easily avoided the blow, grasping both of her hands to prevent from being further assaulted.
“Why are you angry with me? I simply said…”
“I heard what you said, you conceited bastard,” she snarled, struggling within his grip. “How dare you twist my words. Words you coerced from me, no less.”
“Hold, lady,” he said with his usual composure. “I did not coerce anything from you. I merely asked a question; ’twas your choice to answer.”
She was furious. Managing to yank one hand away, she struggled viciously to pull away. But he refused to let go and she tried to hit him again. Deftly, and quite calmly, he sidestepped her and spun her around all in the same gesture so that she ended up facing away from him. Wrapping his massive arms around her body, he effectively trapped her.
“Now,” he breathed in her ear. “You will cease this tantrum. I did not mean to insult you with my factual words and if you were offended, I will apologize. Surely you sensed my want to exceed your own.”
She calmed somewhat, her brow furrowed with the gist of his words. He had apologized in a off-handed way and she wasn’t sure if she should maintain her fury or not. Taking deep breaths to steady her furor, as she realized that she was no match for him physically, the deep breathing also served to ease the lust rising within her breast as a result of his lips on her ear.
“I’m still not going to sleep with you,” she grumbled, knowing it was a lie. As easily as she had given in, it wouldn’t take much for her to surrender a second time.
“But you slept with me last night. I was on the floor and you were…”
She shook her head in frustration. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant that… that I won’t let you bed me.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, his breath hot on her ear. “But if you love me…”
Her anger was on the move again. “Just because I said I love you doesn’t mean I’m willing to have sex at your beck and call. And I refuse to be taken advantage of by a man who hasn’t had a woman in eight hundred years.”
He let her go then and she turned to face him. To her surprise, he looked somewhat bothered. “You… you believe I would take advantage of the woman who resurrected me?”
“I think you would try if I let you,” she said softly, eyeing him for a moment. “And who said I resurrected you? We still don’t know what actually woke you up.”
He turned away, running his fingers through hair that needed to be washed. “I know,” he murmured. “I have always known.”
All thoughts of anger vanished like a puff of smoke. Rory reached out, grabbing him by the arm for a change. “You have? Good Lord, why didn’t you tell me?”
He smiled weakly. “I do not know. Mayhap the time was never right,” when she looked particularly puzzled, he gently cupped her chin in one massive palm. “You awoke me with your kiss, Libby. The alchemist told me that I would only be awakened by a kiss bestowed from the one who loved me best. And that, my dear lady, was you.”
She was astonished. “Then you’ve known all along… I mean, you’ve known how… how you awoke?”
He nodded. “You were right when you said that I belonged to you. I am yours in more ways than we can possibly comprehend.”
Rory didn’t know whether to feel exceptionally embarrassed or incredibly amazed. She continued to stare at him, speechless, when he suddenly bent down to kiss her gently.
“Come along, Libby,” he said softly. “I suspect your Bud is waiting for us already. Oh… and Libby?”
“Hmm?” she snapped from her daze. “What?”
“The showder. I do believe it would be a good idea to bathe when we return.”
Her brow furrowed a moment, accepting her purse when he handed it to her. “If you are referring to the shower, who did you mean it would be a good idea to bathe; you or me?”
He grinned, moving for the door. “Considering I have not had a bath in eight hundred years, I am sure I could benefit from the use of water. And a shave, too.”
She slung her purse over her shoulder, following him into the hall. “Then we’ll have to stop at the drugstore and get you some shaving cream and a razor. Or I think they call it a chemist in England.”
“Chemist?” he cocked an eyebrow suspiciously. “As in al-chemist?”
She laughed softly. “Good Lord, I hope not. It’s just a place where you can buy personal products like toothpaste, hairbrushes, deodorant and… you don’t understand one thing that I’ve said, do you?”
He shook his head ruefully. “Again, you speak too quickly and in terms I cannot comprehend. Really, Libby, you must show me more consideration.”
The sunlight was bright, fading into late afternoon as they exited the hotel. Kieran took her hand, holding it tightly, and Rory smiled warmly into his beautiful, stubbled face. Odd how she didn’t seem to recall the anger she had felt for him earlier, but rather the warmer emotions he so easily evoked.
“I’ll try,” she said.
“You are exceptionally impolite.”
“I know. And you’re a conceited bastard. Doesn’t that somehow make us more compatible?”
He laughed softly. “Either that, or we shall surely kill one another.”
Kissing her hand, led her off into the sunshine.
*
Kieran had been right. Bud was already waiting at the square when they approached and Rory caught sight of him before he saw her. Seating Kieran on a bench and asking him to give her a moment before joining the conversation, she made her way through the clusters of tourists and Londoners until she came upon him. Having his back to her and his hands in his pockets as he urgently scanned the area for Rory’s familiar face, her soft hand on his arm startled the hell out of him.
“Christ!” Bud exclaimed softly, immediately pulling her into a crushing embrace. “Rory, honey, are you all right?”
She let him hold her a moment before pulling away, trying to smile at his pale, shadowed face. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “But you look awful.”
He shrugged weakly. “I never did sleep well in a strange bed,” his gaze licked her from head to toe. “Christ, I’m so glad you’re here. Are you really all right? Have you eaten?”
She nodded patiently, trying to disengage his iron-grip. “Yes, Bud, I’m really fine and I’ve eaten. God, there’s so much to tell. So much to…”
He refused to release her, keeping tight hold on her arm. “I know, honey, I know. But tell me first; where’s Sir Kieran?”
She met his gaze steadily. “He’ll be here in a minute. But I wanted to see you first, alone. We’ve got a real problem on our hands.”
He shook his head slowly. “More than you know. Look, honey, Steven Corbin wants to talk to you. Just talk, ok? He came to see me this morning before I actually knew you had… oh, hell, where did you store the body?”
She frowned. “Didn’t you hear one word I said, Bud? I didn’t store him anywhere because he doesn’t need to be stored. He’s a living, breathing, walking human being and I’ve spent the past fifteen hours with him to verify that fact.”
Bud’s expression took on a countenance of incredible sadness, his rough hand coming up to gently touch her head. After a moment, he sighed. “Listen to me, Rory. I know how much he meant to you, but all of this stuff about him coming to life… honey, no matter how badly you wanted such a thing in order to find out what he did with your crown, it just isn’t possible. Maybe those drinks last night hit you harder than you thought and you’ve simply been imagining the whole thing.”
Her tolerance was brittle and she struggled to maintain her composure. “Bud, I swear to you, I didn’t imagine anything. I thought I had at first, of course; I mean, corpses just don’t come to life. It’s a scientific impossibility. But Kieran explained that he wasn’t actually dead, only in a suspended state because of his wound.”
Bud’s expression was the supreme example of skepticism. When he should have been throwing her over his shoulder and heading for the nearest shrink, he found himself willing to humor her because she seemed to truly believe what she was saying. Christ, the lengths he wouldn’t go to for this woman.
“His wound?”
She nodded. “He had been mortally wounded by assassins and sought out a man he believed to be a physic. But the old guy wasn’t a physic at all, but an alchemist who gave him a potion to put him in some sort of a stasis. And then he gave him medicines that healed his wound without conventional skills. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bud sighed heavily; Rory knew the look. He didn’t believe a word she was saying and she put her hands against his chest, pleading with the man inside that was so desperately in love with her. She knew she shouldn’t be cruel by encouraging that aspect of Bud’s psyche, but she had to make him listen somehow. She had to make him understand.
“Please, Bud,” she said softly. “I’m not making this up. When you see him, you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”
He felt the warmth of her hands against his skin, feeling himself relenting. And the look in her eyes was enough to weaken him completely. “Oh… hell, Rory. Are you listening to yourself? How can you ask me to believe something like that?”
She sighed patiently. “Because it’s true. I didn’t want to believe it, either, but it’s true. Bud, aren’t you the least bit willing to believe that there are forces at work in the world that we can’t possibly comprehend? Like ghosts and UFO’s and reincarnation?”
He shook his head as if baffled by the entire conversation. “How did we get onto the subject of UFO’s? I’m talking about a knight you stole and a family who wants him back. In case you haven’t realized it, you’re in a lot of trouble.”
She looked at him. Hard. Dislodging his grip, she stood back and pondered her next move. “All right,” her voice was strangely hoarse. “So if I stole the knight, then explain how I carried a two hundred pound body out of the morgue all by myself?”
“You told me that you had run into an old friend. You could have had his help.”
“The old friend I was referring to was Kieran. And even if I’d had help, don’t you think someone from the hospital staff would have stopped me? I mean, what would be more conspicuous than two people carrying a dead body between them?”
Bud’s gaze was equally hard as he met her challenging expression. “You’re very convincing, Rory. You can make anybody do anything you want if you’ve set your mind to it.”
Her countenance softened somewhat, her eyes taking on a look of distinct hurt. “What you mean to say is I’m manipulative.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, you are. But I’ve ignored that aspect of your personality because you have so many other good qualities.”
Rory maintained his gaze a moment longer before looking away, feeling entirely rotten. After a moment, she sighed. “I’m not manipulative on purpose, Bud. I guess… I guess I have more of my mother in me that I care to admit. I see how she deals with people and I do the same thing. She’s bold and aggressive, and I try to be, too.”
Bud softened ever-so-slightly. “Your mother is a hard woman, Rory. I know that she’s pushed you and pushed you until you’ll do anything you have to simply to satisfy her. But you’ve got to realize, honey, that you don’t have to manipulate the people who love you. They’ll do anything for you simply because you’re you.”
She looked to him again, her gaze veiled with guilt. “Like you?”
He nodded faintly, a smile coming to his lips. “Like me. You don’t have to try and sell me this cock-and-bull story just because you want me to defend you against Sir Kieran’s family. I’ll defend you regardless, but you’ve got to tell me the truth. That’s all I’ll ever ask of you, honey. The truth.”
She met his smile weakly, moving toward him once again. This time, she grasped his hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ve told you the truth. The honest-to-God truth. Sir Kieran came alive before my very eyes and he’s waiting on that park bench over there to meet you.”
The warmth in Bud’s expression faded. “Rory…”
“Please?” she begged, tugging him with her. “Please see the reality of what I’m telling you. If I was lying, do you think I’d be so eager for you to meet him face to face?”
He let her pull him forward, across the cement and through the grass of the square. There were people milling about busily but Bud didn’t notice; he was thinking what a fool he was. Humoring Rory so she wouldn’t run away from him again by allowing her to carry on with this ridiculous story. He didn’t think she was crazy as much as he believed she was trying to worm her way out of trouble.
And he was helping her. But as long as she remained within his custody, he almost didn’t care. They would face the trouble together.