CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Dr. Becker, this is Steven Corbin. I apologize for disturbing you, sir.”
The sun was beginning to set over the wide Pacific as Uriah Becker sighed at the sound of Corbin’s voice. When the man wasn’t threatening an international lawsuit, he could be quite cordial. But as Becker had come to discover over the past week, any semblance o congeniality was strictly an act.
“You’re not disturbing me, Mr. Corbin,” he replied evenly. “In fact, I was just preparing to leave for the day. What can I do for you?”
Corbin took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the ceiling as he spoke. “Quite frankly, sir, I need your help. Have you been in touch with Dr. Dietrich or Dr. Osgrove recently?”
Becker glanced up at the woman seated across from him, a glass of Seagrams in her hand. If Dr. Sylvia Lunde felt the intense stare from her uncle, she didn’t react. She merely took another drink.
“I… no, I haven’t heard from either of them recently,” he replied. “Is there a problem?”
Corbin took another drag on his cigarette. “If I might ask, when was the last time you spoke with either of them?”
Becker thought a moment. “I spoke with Bud Dietrich nearly two days ago, I suppose. After you took possession of Sir Kieran’s corpse. Really, Mr. Corbin, you could have waited until they had settled themselves before demanding the return of the body. As I understand it, Dr. Osgrove was quite upset with your tactless display.”
Corbin didn’t reply for a moment, his piercing blue eyes glittering in the weak light of his study. “That may be, sir. But as tactless as my display was, at least it was a legal action.”
Becker’s brow furrowed slightly. “Yes, it was. What are you driving at, Corbin?”
Corbin took another long, enjoyable drag of his cigarette. As he suspected, Becker knew nothing of the actions of his two archaeologists and it would be Steven’s pleasure to inform him that his people had run amuck. A sadistic form of glee, to be sure; rubbing the man’s nose in the fact that his subordinates were in serious trouble.
“I’m not driving at anything, sir. But I regret to inform you that Dr. Osgrove is the prime suspect in the disappearance of Sir Kieran’s body from the morgue at Middlesex Hospital two days ago. Although Dr. Dietrich wasn’t directly involved, he’s protecting her from the law.”
Becker’s face was ashen. Having finished her drink, Sylvia was in the process of pouring herself another when she noticed her uncle’s odd expression. Before she could question him, however, he swallowed hard and turned away from her.
“You’re… sure she did this?”
“Fairly sure. A nurse in the emergency room placed her at the hospital around the time the morgue was broken into. Dietrich himself said she threatened to do it, but he didn’t take her seriously.”
Becker rose unsteadily from his chair, scratching his head. “Dear God… what on earth is she thinking? How could she possibly…?”
“Dr. Becker, I have little time to waste. Dr. Dietrich and Dr. Osgrove are fugitives from the law and Scotland Yard is aware of the crisis. Considering the crime is involving a national treasure, I am sure you can understand the seriousness of the situation.”
Becker was staring from his window, the warm rays of sunset reflecting on his pale face. “I do,” he murmured, feeling sick to his stomach. “You… you mentioned you needed my help, Mr. Corbin. I’m afraid I know nothing beyond what I’ve told you. Dr. Dietrich has not been in contact with me for some time and…”
“I understand, sir,” Corbin finished his cigarette with relish, pleased to have the upper-hand in the situation. With Becker cowering like a fool in the face of a predicament that could all but ruin the university, Corbin savored his power. “At some point in time, however, I expect that Dietrich will contact you. And when he does, I would appreciate your letting me know where he and Osgrove are hiding. It would be much better for me to reach them first rather than the police, as I’m sure you will agree that perhaps I could influence them into relinquishing the body and thereby lessen the charges against them.”
On the other end of the line, Becker was literally ill with the myriad of plights invading his thoughts. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined Rory to have gone above the law, even for an archaeological find that obviously meant a good deal to her. And the fact that Bud had failed to inform him of the course of events wasn’t particularly surprising. Maybe the man was trying to resolve the issue himself without creating a publicized incident.
Still, the fact remained that Corbin was right. Rory and Bud were in a good deal of trouble and whether or not Dietrich was trying to resolve it quietly, the point had come for outside assistance. And, at the moment, Becker was without many legal options being that the infraction occurred in a foreign country. Certainly, he could send a university lawyer, but that would only serve to broadcast the entire event. And Becker, like Bud, wanted to keep it quiet as long as he was able.
After a moment, he sighed heavily into the receiver.
“Of course,” he said. “I would… appreciate anything you can do for them until I arrive.”
Corbin set his cigarette butt to the ashtray. “Arrive? I don’t understand.”
Becker turned away from the window, his gaze fixed on Sylvia as she drained her fourth glass of Seagrams. “Certainly you don’t expect me to stay here, idle, while two of my associates are in a great deal of trouble. I shall be on a flight to Heathrow as soon as I am able.”
Corbin fought down his rising annoyance. He didn’t want Becker in England, interfering with his plans for the lovely Dr. Osgrove and her smitten colleague. It was necessary that Becker stay in the states, far away from the justice that did not directly involve him.
Corbin wanted Osgrove to tell him why she had risked her life and career for a eight hundred year old corpse; Dietrich was enough of an obstacle, but Becker might prove to be even worse. With the two of them protecting her and the secret of the corpse, Steven doubted he would ever know the truth.
“Your presence isn’t necessary, I assure you,” Corbin said calmly. “If you remain in California, Dietrich and Osgrove know where you can be reached and you are far more valuable if you stay where you are. Should you come to London, you’ll simply be chasing after them like the rest of us.”
Some of the color returned to Becker’s cheeks as he came to grips with his shock. “Mr. Corbin, have you ever heard of an answering service? If Dietrich calls my office, I can simply retrieve his message and return his call. And I can do this from London as well as from Southern California.”
Corbin knew his argument had been weak from the beginning and Becker’s condescending tone only served to fuel his irritation. “As you say, Dr. Becker,” since debating the man was useless, he endeavored to return the conversation to a civil tone. “I look forward to meeting you in person. But until that time, if you hear from Dr. Dietrich, you will please let me know. The Hage family simply wants the body returned and I promise I will do all that I can to ease the charges against Dr. Osgrove.”
Becker’s razor-sharp mind was already thinking ahead to his trip, the course of action to take. He didn’t have any more time for Corbin’s blather. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Corbin. I shall be in London with the next two days.”
“A lot can happen in two days, Dr. Becker. I’ll do the best I can until you arrive.”
Becker paused, hating the fact that Rory and Bud’s only hope would rest in the hands of a shark for the next forty-eight hours. But he had no choice. “If I hear from Dietrich, I’ll let you know.”
“Good,” Steven couldn’t help smiling. “I shall await your call, Dr. Becker. And thank you.”
Staring off into the dimness of his study as he lit another cigarette, Corbin simply smiled.
*
Becker didn’t acknowledge the Corbin’s sickeningly polite farewell; he simply hung up the phone. As Sylvia sipped her glass, he rounded the desk, his hazel eyes focused intently on the once-beautiful woman. She caught his movement, turning her attention to the aged features.
“Well?” she asked, her speech faintly slurred. “What has Rory done this time?”
Uriah’s jaw ticked. “She’s stolen the body of the knight she uncovered at Nahariya. The lawyer representing the Hage family says she and Bud are running from the law and in very serious trouble,” he sighed heavily, at a complete loss to understand. “We simply didn’t need this. The department is already in danger of losing funding from the university and with this little escapade… Good Lord, we just didn’t need this. We’re going to lose everything if words gets around.”
Sylvia stared at him, finally tearing her gaze from his stone-like features and taking another drink. “Damn her,” she hissed. “I always knew she was irresponsible and naive, but this goes beyond what even I believed her capable of. Why would she do this?”
Becker cocked an eyebrow. “Why? Who truly knows. The only person who can tell us is Dietrich, and apparently he’s running with her. He said she was upset when Corbin claimed the body from the airport and maybe she was upset enough to somehow retaliate. But until I talk to Bud, I just don’t know why your daughter has become a fugitive.”
Sylvia toyed with the rim of her glass, rolling it along her lower lip as she stared into the fading light of the room. “She’s going to ruin everything,” she muttered. “The Nahariya dig had finally become a success with the discovery of the crusader. Why would she jeopardize everything she’s worked for? I simply don’t understand her.”
“That’s the problem,” Becker tapped the glass in her hand, his jaw ticking with disgust. “You never did. The harder she tried, the more pressure you put on her. You were never satisfied with her and maybe she’s finally reached the point where she doesn’t care any longer. Hell, Sylvia, you’re not concerned with Rory. You’re only concerned with the shame she’ll bring down on you by her actions.”
Sylvia turned to him as he walked away from her. “That’s not true. Why do you think I petitioned for funding for her dig? She’s brilliant and beautiful and deserves everything I can give her.”
“She deserves your love,” Becker paused by the desk, jabbing a finger at his niece. “You act as if she has to earn it.”
Sylvia slammed the glass down to a small mahogany table. “Damn you. How dare you tell me how to respond to my own child!”
Becker shook his head, turning away from the swaying woman. “Somebody needs to. Since the day she was born you’ve held her illegitimacy against her like a weapon. If she didn’t make anything of herself, then you could blame her for your shame. And if she did make something of her life, then you could find the false pride to overlook your own shortcomings. And all that crap about her father dying in Vietnam is the most shameful secret I’ve ever kept, Sylvia. Have the guts to tell the woman the truth someday if for no other reason than she deserves to know. Her father wasn’t a decorated fighter pilot; he was a married sailor on leave.”
Sylvia’s gaze was wide with drunken emotion. She tried to respond, but in truth there was nothing to say. Shaken and dazed, she collected her glass and drained the last few drops.
“Bud was supposed to keep an eye on her,” she muttered, wandering aimlessly away from her uncle. “You said he would be perfect for her.”
“Bud Dietrich is the finest field archaeologist I know,” Uriah said softly. “A bachelor, without any family and completely dedicated to his work. When we saw how he was attracted to her, you agreed that Rory needed his experience and guidance if her project was going to be a success. And I saw a person who would finally show her the pride and compassion she needed. Even if Greek and Roman culture was Bud’s specialty and not biblical archaeology, still, I wanted him on the dig. I wanted him with Rory.”
Sylvia snorted softly. “I was hoping his level character would calm her eccentric nature somewhat.”
“She is only eccentric because she’s spent her entire life trying to capture your attention.”
Sylvia looked away, refusing to be roped into the familiar argument yet again. “Do you think Dietrich suspected that we were trying to make a match?”
“Who can say? But if he’s willing to protect her from the British authorities, it must mean something.”
“Certainly it does,” the once-beautiful woman was colored with bitterness. “It means that he’s let her ruin his life just like she ruined mine thirty years ago. And now with the abduction of this… this corpse, she’s trying to finish me off.”
Becker sat behind his desk, ignoring his drunken niece. The story was always the same with her; over-achievement in the field of Ministry and Education to make up for the fact that she had conceived a child out of wedlock. And she fully blamed Rory for the secret of shame she had been forced to hide. Blame in the form of harsh discipline and scholastic pressure that had all but ruined a truly gifted young girl, and apparently drove her to do something rash.
As Sylvia poured herself another drink, Becker moved to pick up the phone when it suddenly rang. His eyes widened with surprise and relief as he acknowledged the caller, the conversation abruptly moving from cordial to exceptionally serious. More dialogue as Becker tried to remain calm, assessing the situation and agreeing upon an immediate course of action.
Ending the call that had come from the outskirts of London, Becker didn’t even hang the receiver up before he was dialing Corbin’s private number.
*
Rory awoke alone in the large bed, snuggled under mounds of covers. The sun was up, the day bright, and she sat up in search of Kieran. But he was gone and, disappointed, she stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Soaping her body, she could still feel his touch and found herself wishing he was in the shower with her. Her chest was tight with the warmth of happiness, her limbs languid and weak. Never in her life had she felt so much joy, so much fulfillment, as if everything in her life was finally right.
It was as if the void Kieran had described in her soul no longer existed, filled by the emotions and adoration of her knight. Smiling happily as the warm water rinsed the soap clear, she turned off the shower and dried off.
Suspecting Kieran was probably downstairs eating everything in sight, she hastened to put on her makeup and dry her hair. Donning jeans and a white sleeveless mock-turtleneck, she was putting her shoes on when a soft knock rattled the door. Thinking it was Kieran, she threw open the door only to be confronted by Bud’s grim face. And by the expression on his features, there was no doubt that he knew everything.
“Uh… hi, Bud,” she said, feeling extremely uncomfortable under his intense gaze. “How are you feeling?”
He pushed into the room without being invited. Rory stepped aside, raising an eyebrow when he locked the door behind him. Only then did he turn to her. “Let’s get something settled right now,” he said in a tone she had never heard before. “I finished being your stooge and I’m done with your manipulative mind games. I want Sir Kieran’s journal and I want to know what you’ve done with his body. Now!”
He had actually shouted. Rory jumped, her eyes wide with surprise and a certain measure of fear. “But… I told you what happened to Kieran. You’ve been with the man for over a day; can’t you see the truth of what’s happened?”
The veins on his temples were pulsing. “The only truth I see is that you’re playing me for an idiot. Tell me what I want to know or I swear I’ll call the police this minute and turn you in myself. Do you hear me?”
Rory was shocked. But she was also angry. Bud was using the situation to punish her for not returning his feelings and she resented his bitter attempts at manipulation.
“Fine,” she lowered her voice, the hazel eyes sparking. “Go right ahead. But I’ll tell them what I’ve told you; I don’t have the body. The body they’re looking for is alive and well. Whether or not the authorities believe me, it’s the God-honest truth.”
His features tensed and he brought up a hand and for a brief, horrifying moment, Rory actually thought he might strike her. But that didn’t fit the character of the man she knew so well; still, she was relieved when the raised hand moved to his head and scratched at his scalp in a frustrated gesture.
“I’m not going to listen to any more of this,” he said, his tone suddenly hoarse with emotion. “I thought we had more respect between us to continue this lie. But I guess I was wrong. About a lot of things.”
She refused to allow him to use guilt against her. “Bud, you’re my dearest friend, but we can’t plan who we’re going to fall in love with. You didn’t plan to fall in love with me, and I didn’t plan to fall in love with Kieran. But I did and I’m sorry if you’re hurt.”
“Hurt?” he snorted, an odd smile coming to his lips. “Hell, Rory, you pulled me into bed with you the night we arrived declaring that you needed my comfort. And then you spend all last night hitting the sheets with your… friend. What is it with you? Do you have to control all the men around you like some sort of sick game?”
Her cheeks flushed and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m not trying to control anyone. When I asked you to sleep with me, I really did need the warmth and comfort of another human being. You even asked me if I was trying to seduce you and I told you that I wasn’t. I apologize if I led you on, Bud; I didn’t mean to. I really don’t know what I was thinking at the time.”
“And you don’t know what you’re thinking now,” he fired back. “God only knows how that guy has managed to bewitch you, but it’s got to stop. For your own sake, this has all got to stop.”
“And who’s going to stop it? You?” she shook her head. “Will calling the police on me somehow give you the revenge you need against my spurning your feelings?”
He stared at her, the rage in his eyes cooling somewhat. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“Bull.”
“Damn you, Rory. Why do you think everything has to revolve around my feelings for you?”
“Because it does. Everything you’ve ever done since the moment we met has revolved around your attraction to me. It started the day you agreed to the dig, placing your reputation on the line for a woman determined to chase biblical myths.”
His fury continued to ease, the truth of her words weighing heavily on his heart. After a moment, he sighed and looked away. Rory relaxed slightly, feeling his pain and again so very sorry that she had caused it.
“Kieran and I are returning to Nahariya for the crown, Bud,” she said softly. “I would like you to come with us.”
He snorted softly. “I don’t think so. I’m finished with all of this, Rory.”
“But I need you.”
“No, you don’t. You have your Kieran. Or whoever in the hell he really is.”
Rory watched his slowing movements, seeing his anguish reflected in every muscle, every limb. Moving to him, she gently placed her hand on his arm. “If you go with us and he leads us straight to the crown, won’t it prove to you that he is who he says he is?”
He glanced at her, his ice-blue eyes laced with defeat. After a lengthy pause, he simply shook his head. “Look, even if he managed to completely convince me, I’m not the real problem. Do you realize what would happen if the authorities got their hands on a living, breathing corpse?” When she shook her head unsteadily, he continued. “Think about it, Rory. Suppose you actually manage to convince the world who Kieran really is; the man has been in a catatonic state for eight hundred years. Once Science gets a hold of him, he can look forward to a life of experiments and needles and testing to determine the secret to his immortality. Is that what you want for him?”
Her face fell. “Of course not,” she replied, the distress in her expression evident. “I just want him to be able to live peacefully, admired and respected for his what he truly is. He’s lived so much, Bud. He deserves the best this life has to offer.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “If it’s proven he’s actually a resurrected Medieval knight, he can expect a life as a sideshow freak. Or he’ll simply disappear from sight altogether. Do you really think the world is ready for the concept of an eight hundred year old man?”
Rory held his gaze a moment longer before looking away, feeling sickened and stunned. Being so close to the situation, she’d never truly given the negative aspects of Kieran’s resurrection much thought. Once again, Bud was right; he was always right.
But it didn’t change the facts. Kieran was determined to return for the crown and Rory was going with him. Beyond the actual retrieval, she refused to ponder the future. If they ended up living in a mud shack in the middle of the Serengeti Desert, hiding out from the long arm of the law, then that would suit her just fine. As long as they remained together, she trusted that the strength of their bond would see them through the worst this life had to offer.
“We’re going back for the crown,” she finally murmured. “After that, I suppose we’ll just have to take one day at a time.”
Bud continued to stare at her, not knowing what to say. She was determined to return to Nahariya and the thought that she was slipping further and further away from him was nearly more than he could bear. But all reality of his anguish aside, he knew for her own protection that he simply couldn’t let her go.
“Rory, you’re not going anywhere right now.”
She looked up from the floor. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath, feeling completely evil for what he was about to say. But he also knew in his heart that he only had her best interests in mind; and, perhaps, just a small amount of the revenge she had accused him of. When dealing with matters of the heart, it was difficult to think clearly. But he was trying to do just that, praying she wouldn’t hate him overly for what he felt he had to do.
“What I mean is that I called Becker last night. He’s on his way to London and I’ve been told to keep you here until he arrives.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “You what? Damn it, Bud, how could you do this?”
“It’s for your own good. You’re in a lot of trouble and we’ve got to prevent it from getting out of control more than it already is.”
Instantly inflamed and terrified by his treachery, Rory’s body began to quake with emotion. “So you turned me in just like a damn traitor!” she seethed. Then, her expression suddenly slackened. “Oh, God. Bud, what have you done with Kieran?”
“Nothing,” he replied evenly. “When I left him, he was trying to shave. And when he comes knocking on the door to take you to breakfast, you’re going to tell him to go ahead without you.”
She was so shaken even her lips were trembling. “And then what?”
“And while he’s occupied with his meal, we’re checking out and moving to another hotel.”
“No!” she shouted. “You can’t do this!”
“I can and I will. If you value your job, your reputation, and your freedom, you’ll do as I say.”
Rory was livid. “You bastard! I thought you were my friend, Bud. I trusted you!”
“And I thought you were my friend, too. But friends don’t lie to other friends. And they don’t treat them like idiots.”
Her cheeks were mottled a bright red. “I never treated you like an idiot and I’ve never lied to you. And if you weren’t blinded by your own jealousy, then you’d understand what I’m telling you.”
Bud’s jaw ticked but he remained calm. “I understand completely. But you’ve got to understand that I’m doing this for your own good. And as for Sir Kieran’s corpse, if you won’t tell me where you’ve hidden it, then I guess we’ll have to tell Becker that you destroyed it somehow.”
“I didn’t destroy it!”
“Then where is it?”
She let out a hissing curse, turning away from him in a fit of frustration. “You’ve been talking to it for the past twenty-four hours!” she exploded, nearing the edge of insanity with the repeated argument. “And I slept with it last night and can tell you for fact that Sir Kieran Hage is alive and well and more of a man than any living male on the face of this earth!”
Bud blanched, struggling to maintain his composure. “Christ, you love throwing that in my face, don’t you?”
She stopped in the middle of her rage, tears of distress and emotion filling the hazel eyes. “No, Bud, I don’t. But I love the man and he loves me and I’m sorry if I’ve destroyed your world. But I can’t help what I feel and I won’t let you separate us. I swear to God you’ll be sorry if you try.”
Bud raked his fingers through his short hair, turning away from her thoroughly disturbing expression. “I’ve got to do what I know is right. And what’s right is getting you away from that… that man so you can start thinking clearly again.”
Rory stared at him, feeling so terribly defeated. Her rage was fading, her emotions brimming, and she collapsed on the edge of the bed in exhaustion. “I am thinking clearly,” she murmured, watching him pace about in agitation. “Don’t you even believe me just a little, Bud? Just a tiny bit?”
He came to a halt, pondering her words for a moment. As Rory watched him closely, he finally gave her the signal she’d been waiting two days for. A small, nearly imperceptible nod.
“Maybe,” he muttered, his tone scarcely audible. “All I know is your Sir Kieran is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. From head to toe, that man is an anomaly. Christ, Rory, I just don’t know what to think any more.”
“Don’t think,” she whispered. “Believe.”
Ice-blue eyes turned in her direction, seeing the woman he loved so much and feeling the familiar weakness sweep him. But it wasn’t enough to overcome his doubt.
“Rory… I just can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Bud never had the chance to reply. The locked bedroom door suddenly exploded, drawing a scream of fright from Rory and sending Bud ducking for cover. When the noise ended and the pieces of wood cluttered to the fine flooring, their startled gazes fell on a man of enormous size and strength lodged in the doorway.
“Kieran!” Rory gasped. “Why did you do that?”
He stepped into the room, kicking aside a heavy piece of panel as if it was nothing. His jaw ticked as he looked directly at Bud.
“The door was locked and I heard your urgent voice,” he said, his voice a growl. “I will not be locked away from you. Not even for a moment.”
He was still looking at Bud. Rory leapt up from the mattress, moving to intercept him before he could do to Bud what he had done to the door.
“Bud wasn’t locking me away from you,” she said, putting her hands on his thick arm. “We were… talking.”
Kieran cocked an eyebrow. “I would hardly call words such as ‘bastard’ and ‘traitor’ mere talk. What has he done that has angered you so?”
Rory swallowed, looking at Bud. Surprisingly, the man’s expression was without fear and Rory returned her attention to Kieran, hoping she could delicately explain the situation.
“Bud spoke to our superior last night and was instructed to keep me in his company until the authorities from the university can arrive,” she didn’t want to make Bud out to be the bad guy, even if he had gone behind her back. “Obviously, I don’t want to remain. I want to go to Syria with you.”
“And you shall,” Kieran said firmly, looking to Bud once more. “I would assume the lady told you of her plans to accompany me to Nahariya. We will not deviate from these plans.”
Bud took a deep, long breath. “Look, pal, Rory is facing serious charges. You know this. Why don’t you just make it easy on her and let me do what needs to be done? She can’t go to Nahariya with you now, if ever.”
Kieran remained calm. In fact, he was inordinately good at calming his fierce temper once aroused. Taking Rory’s hand in his large, warm palm, he kissed it gently before returning his attention to Bud.
“The only thing Rory is guilty of is loving a dead man,” he said quietly. “You see, we are linked by this crown somehow, a passion and devotion that has brought us together and refuses to let go. I need the lady if I am going to complete my mission, and she needs me if she is going to find this diadem she has spent a great deal of time searching for. We are two pieces of a puzzle, Bud, finally made whole. One without the other is incomplete, but the two of us combined are invincible.”
Bud’s gaze held steady, his ice-blue eyes lined with fatigue and emotion. He looked to Rory, so incredible at-peace within the grasp of the gentle knight, more content than he had ever known her to be. True, Bud loved her terribly; but he also loved her enough that he simply wanted her to be happy with whomever she chose. And if it wasn’t him, then he would have to accept it. But his rejected devotion still didn’t erase the fact that she was in trouble. Meeting Rory’s gaze, his focus was intense. “I can deal with this in time,” he said finally. “If you really love him, then that’s the way it’s got to be. But the fact remains that Becker is coming to London to save you from British justice. He can probably get you absolved from the charges of breaking and entering, but stealing a national treasure is another matter. If this man before me is the living corpse of Sir Kieran Hage, then we really do have a problem on our hands. Just what in the hell am I supposed to tell Becker?”
“Tell him I ditched you,” she said quietly. “Tell him that I snuck out in the middle of the night and you don’t know where I am. For God’s sake, tell him anything.”
Bud continued to stare at her, finally turning away and dragging a hand over his weary face. “All right. So let’s say I give Becker a contrived story while you and Kieran return for the crown. Then what? Do you think that returning the crown to England will solve all of your troubles and the charges against you will be miraculously dropped? You’ll still be in the same predicament, Rory, only worse because you fled the country,” he gestured weakly at Kieran. “And what about him? When all of this is over and he announces his true identity, he’ll either be thrown into a science laboratory or into an insane asylum. Don’t you see where this is leading, honey?”
Rory held Kieran’s hand tightly, hearing the truth of Bud’s words and growing more distressed by the moment. “I do,” she whispered. “But we don’t have a choice. We have to go, Bud, can’t you see? Kieran must retrieve the crown and I’m the only one who can help him. It’s like… like this was meant to happen. I can’t retrieve it without him and he can’t retrieve it without me. But even more than that, it’s as if we truly belong together just like Kieran said. Even if we were born eight hundred years apart, he fills in me something I never realized I lacked. He makes me whole, Bud, like I’ve never been in my life.”
Bud’s eyes glimmered with the force of his emotion. “I’d always hoped to hear you say those words where they pertained to me,” he smiled weakly, feeling weary and defeated and completely resigned to the inevitable. He didn’t want to fight her anymore, or to resist her determination. Whether or not it ruined him professionally, he was already ruined emotionally and he found himself once again willing to do her bidding. “All right, then. So you’re going back to Nahariya. Back to the grave site, I take it?”
Rory looked at Kieran, who met her gaze with a shrug. “I am afraid I cannot elaborate on that aspect, considering I do not know where I was buried.”
“We found you in the ruins of an ancient Grecian temple where the Muslims buried their trash,” Rory told him. “It sits on a rise above the city and you can see the Mediterranean in the distance. Do you know the place I’m talking about?”
He thought a moment, his brow furrowed. Then, realization dawned; his gem-clear brown eyes suddenly took on a marvelous twinkle and he grinned at the wide-eyed lady by his side. “Is that where you were looking for the diadem?”
She nodded. “All of the ancient manuscripts pointed to it as the location of an ancient Muslim temple. A temple where the diadem of Christ would be found.”
He shook his head in confusion. “What ancient manuscripts do you speak of? You have mentioned them before.”
“Fourteenth century manuscripts written by a Byzantine monk named Ottis. I don’t know where he received his information, but he was quite specific with his description. I came across the scripts in Rome when I was doing my post-graduate work.”
Again, Kieran’s brow furrowed and he released Rory’s hand, pacing absently across the room. “I do not know how he came to know. Unless…” he held up a finger, looking to both Bud and Rory. “You informed me that I was buried with all of my possessions, including my journal?”
Bud was the first to answer. “Everything. It was laid on top of the corp… uh, you in layers. First your mail, then your sword, then the rest of your personal effects.”
Kieran digested the information intently. “After the assassins wounded me in my room at the inn, there was little time to collect my property before going in search of a healer. Which can only mean…” he suddenly slapped his open palm against his thigh. “God’s Blood! It has to be!”
Bud and Rory looked at each other curiously. “Be what?” Rory asked timidly.
Kieran looked to her, understanding written all over his face. “The alchemist mentioned that he knew Hut, the owner of the hostel where I was staying and the same man who referred me to him after I was wounded. I can only assume that it was Hut who collected my possessions for burial and somewhere in the process…” he tapped his head in a thoughtful gesture. “Somewhere in the process, his insatiable curiosity caused him to read my journal.”
“And?” Rory lifted her eyebrows encouragingly.
He looked surprised that she hadn’t followed his train of thought. “You read my journal, Libby. I have never understood why you were unable to decipher the location of the diadem as well. Certainly you are much smarter than Hut.”
Her mouth opened with shock. “The location?” she repeated. “I didn’t come across any type of description pinpointing the location of the crown. But much of the latter part of your pages were muddle with age and…”
She suddenly broke away, rushing to her overnight bag and tossing the thing onto the bed. Very, very carefully, she extracted the familiar leather-bound cover and Kieran’s features softened as he beheld the chronicles he hadn’t seen in over eight centuries. When she extended the book, he accepted with the utmost reverence.
“Oh, Libby,” he murmured. “You have it.”
“Of course I have it,” she couldn’t help but smile as he touched the vellum, weakened with age. Even Bud was becoming enthralled with Kieran’s obvious worship for the ancient book, watching as the man inspected it over carefully before opening the heavy cover.
The yellowed pages turned, one at a time, as Kieran scanned the contents of his journal. Rory hung over his shoulder, crown forgotten for a brief moment as she pointed out the more legible passages and even questioning him about the incident with Al-eb-Alil. He modestly shrugged off the heroic circumstance as she knew he would; any virtuous knight would have done the same, he said. He had simply been closer to the situation and far better equipped; therefore, it was logical that he should be the one to engage the general.
Bud stood by, listening to him speak as if the incidents had happened only yesterday and coming to believe that the man did indeed know what he was talking about. No actor could have conveyed such casual flair when speaking of a brawl at an inn in Joppa, or paying five thousand dinars for a beautiful Arabian stallion that had been shipped home to Southwell for breeding purposes. The more Bud listened, the more he found himself believing. And the more his resistance began to fade.
Maybe dead men do walk.
“You knew King Richard personally?” he heard himself asking. He couldn’t help it. And he almost looked around to see where the eager schoolboy had come from.
Kieran looked up from the faded pages. “Indeed. A man of average height, reddish hair, and a sadistic sense of humor. Actually, you remind me of him somewhat. Both of you are extremely stubborn.”
Bud cocked an eyebrow, not sure whether or not he had been insulted. “But you knew Henry Augustus? And Conrad of Montferrat, too?”
Kieran’s warm expression faded. “You would not like to hear my opinions of them.”
“Like hell!” Bud said, moving for the chair by the long French doors and preparing to take a seat. “Christ, do you realize… My God, you’re a walking history lesson, an archaeologist’s dream! Not only for your knowledge of the Crusades, but for your knowledge of life in Medieval Europe. And… Christ, the fact that you’ve been in stasis for centuries is beyond our medical science today. When I think…”
“Bud?” Rory interrupted him, a smile on her lips. “Are you trying to say that you finally believe what we’ve been telling you?”
He lowered himself on the chair, taking a long, heavy sigh. “I guess I’ve just resigned myself to the inevitable. I know I shouldn’t give credence to the impossible, but the more I hear him speak and act and… hell, exist, the more I just can’t deny the evidence. And I’ve got to tell you; this whole thing has got me verging on a thrill of discovery like I’ve never experienced in my life. I told you once we weren’t living a movie, Rory; well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe we’re living something better.”
Rory’s smile broadened and she went to him, bending down to kiss him on the cheek. “Now you know how I’ve been feeling,” he still looked skeptical; excited, but skeptical, and she returned her attention to Kieran. “Get to the part where you describe the location of the diadem. I’ve been through that entire journal and I swear I haven’t come across it.”
Kieran immediately flipped to the very last page, careful of the brittle parchment. His brow furrowed as he searched the wording, smeared and stained with age. Slowly, still fixed to the vellum, he moved toward Bud and Rory.
“Here,” he said softly, trying to decipher his own writing. “I wrote it here, as I was bleeding to death. I never gave the exact location, mind you, but a cryptic description written in Hebrew. But now the ink has been ruined and the writing is illegible. God’s Blood, no wonder you were unable to decipher it.”
Rory looked over the top of the book at the familiar last page. “Hebrew? You can write Hebrew?”
He nodded faintly. “There was little more to do during the time between battles for Acre than sit. Since Jerusalem is the heart of the Hebrew nation, I put my time to good use and studied the language. Fortunately, it eventually came of some use to me.”
Rory looked up from the page, gazing at his beautiful profile. “So you used your knowledge and wrote the location of the diadem in a language your fellow Englishmen would not understand?”
“No one in Nahariya spoke Hebrew, but Arabic. Even if my enemies found the journal, I was willing to have faith in the fact that they would have been unable to find someone to decipher the writing. Unless they found an orthodox rabbi, who would mayhap have thought twice before divulging the information to a band of English cutthroats.”
Rory smiled. She couldn’t help it. “So you wrote it in a language only a Jew or perhaps another devout Christian such as yourself could decipher?”
“Deciphered by those who worthy enough to know,” he continued to stare at the faded pages. “But the page was not like this when I finished; the writing was quite clear. Clear enough for Hut to read it, I am positive.”
Rory cocked an eyebrow. “The innkeeper? Do you think he could read Hebrew?”
Kieran looked up from the ruined writing, his eyes locking with her beautiful gaze. “Hut told me that he was originally from Jerusalem, forced to flee with his family when the Muslims took occupation. The man was a Jew, Lib. I have no doubt that he read my journal and either told another or wrote it down himself. Information that somehow found its way to your Byzantine monk.”
Rory stared at him. Behind her, she could feel Bud rise from the chair. “Then Ottis knew what he was talking about?” Rory murmured, feeling the heady grasp of excitement embrace her heart. “Was he right, Kieran? Is the crown in a Muslim mosque?”
Kieran looked to her, her glittering eyes, her eager face, and smiled. Closing the book, he touched her silken cheek gently. “Indeed it is, my lady. I hid it in the last possible place my traitorous Christian brothers would look.”
Rory’s eyes widened, a marvelous smile coming to her lips. Giving a crow of pure triumph, she turned to Bud. “Did you hear him? I was right all along! It really is buried in a Muslim mosque!”
Bud couldn’t help but smile in response to her excitement. Excitement he hadn’t seen from her since the commencement of their dig fourteen months ago. “Ok, so you were right. But where is this mosque? As we found out, our dig site was an ancient Grecian temple.”
“If you are referring to the ancient temple of Bacchus, I know it’s location well,” Kieran was focused on Bud, drawing Rory against his torso. “Your position is only slightly awry. The mosque you seek is down the hill, about three hundred paces.”
Rory’s blissful smile faded as she gazed up at him. It was difficult not to keep the astonishment from her face. “But… but there’s no structure there. That’s where our workers’ camp is.”
He met her gaze, raising an eyebrow confidently. “Then your camp is sitting right on top of it.”
Bud could hardly believe what he was hearing. As Rory continued to wallow in astonishment, he let out an ironic snort and ran his fingers through his cropped hair. “Christ… do you mean to say we’ve been close to it the entire time and never knew? Dave’s going to lose his mind when I tell him!”
Kieran set the journal carefully to the table beside the French doors. “Who is Dave?”
“Another colleague,” Rory said huskily, still consumed with the revelation of Kieran’s words. “He was with us when we found you. In fact, he fell in love with your broadsword.”
“A wise man,” Kieran replied, watching Bud move for the phone. Rory saw him moving, too, struggling to digest the stunning information and return to the serious world at hand.
“What are you doing, Bud?”
Bud glanced over his shoulder. “Calling Dave, of course. We can’t close the dig down now, not when we’re so damn close.”
As Bud picked up the phone, Rory turned to Kieran. He smiled faintly and reached out a hand; putting both her hands in his massive grip, she met his warm expression as the shock of his revelation faded.
“I’m just a little curious,” she said softly as Bud conversed with the overseas operator. “You were so adamant about protecting the crown when we first met, so determined that you would retrieve it alone.”
“As if it was my own personal possession?” his smile broadened as he repeated her words.
She gave him a lop-sided grin. “Exactly. If you were so protective about it, why did you write its location in your journal?”
Bud was waiting for the connection to go through, listening to their muted conversation and wondering much the same thing. Why would a man who had died for a brittle wreath of vines have given away the location of the very object he was trying to protect to those intelligent enough to decipher his writing?
Kieran continued to gaze at Rory, knowing Bud was listening. After a moment, he shrugged weakly. “In faith, my lady, I do not know what possessed me to divulge the location. I only know that as I sat dying in my rented room, a powerful urge compelled me to lend clue and conscience to what I had done. As if… as if a voice inside me was demanding I describe the location for future reference.”
Rory’s brow furrowed. “But you said, and I quote, ‘Forgive me Lord Jesus that my mission in Thou’s Name hath been thwarted. The diadem of Thou’s sacrifice entrusted into my hands is forever sealed, hidden…”
“…so that no man can pilfer its beauty or omnipotence. Until such time that I can safely transport It to the land of my birth, Its whereabouts will remain my knowledge alone,’” Kieran smiled, touching her velvety cheek. “I know well what I wrote, my lady. I vowed that no man would ever pilfer its beauty. But I never referred to a woman in the same negative context.”
Rory’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
He chuckled softly. “Nor do I. Only that by writing the cryptic location of the crown as I was immediately unable to complete my task, I hoped that someday an educated man would learn the secret and come to my aid. When, in fact, the educated man was in actuality an educated woman.”
“But I never read your description.”
“Nay, you did not. Someone read it for you and made sure you understood its worth.”
Rory shook her head, finding herself pulled into his warm embrace. “Your answers are as cryptic as the writing in your journal. Are you saying that you wrote the description specifically for me?”
His big shoulders lifted lazily, a warm expression on his face. “Who can say? But it was as if… as if, indeed, I wrote it specifically for you. Knowing you would come along eight centuries later to help me complete my task.”
“Then you never truly believed you were dead?”
“I did indeed. But there was always hope for a miracle.”
Bud continued to observe as Rory and Kieran gave into sweet, delicious kisses and he was forced to turn away as his stomach twisted with anguish. But as he did so, something beyond the short garden walls of the bed and breakfast suddenly caught his attention and the receiver clattered to the bed beside him.
“Damn!” he hissed, racing to the cracked French doors and peering outside.
Kieran was immediately by his side, the clear brown eyes alert. Rory joined them, wedging herself between the two men and unable to hold off a small cry of fright as her eyes drank in a vision she had never expected to see again. At least, not this soon.
“Corbin!” she gasped.
Kieran whirled away from the doors, already on the move. Bud, thoroughly startled and struggling to keep his own fear at bay, watched as the lawyer and two men he didn’t recognize disappear from view. Undoubtedly heading for the entrance to the hostel, as indicated by the direction they were walking, and Bud threw open the French doors.
“Come on,” he noted Kieran was shoving his journal into his duffle bag as Rory groping for her purse. “They’re coming in the front; you can slip out through the garden while I hold them off.”
Rory froze, purse in her shaking hands. “But… Bud! You’ve got to come, too!”
He shook his head, grasping her by the arms and trying to direct her to the open doors. “I can’t, honey. Someone has got to stall for time while you two make an escape,” he gestured toward her suitcase sitting against the wall. “Look; leave your suitcase here. I’ll tell him that you’ve just gone out and I’m expecting you to return soon. That should keep him here for an hour or two, enough time for you and Kieran to make it to safety somewhere.”
Rory was beside herself. “But I just can’t leave you here!”
“You’ve got to,” Bud insisted softly. “Those men with Corbin are probably detectives from Scotland Yard. The man’s coming for us and he’s not going to take any chances the second time around. If I run with you, they’ll be on our tail in no time.”
Rory swallowed hard, torn and frightened and confused. “Oh, God… how did they find us? No one knew we were here!”
“Except Becker,” Bud said quietly, zipping her purse when she seemed unable to finish the task and completely disturbed by the implications of Becker’s involvement. When he looked up and saw tears in her eyes, he shook his head briskly and kissed her on the cheek. “No tears, honey. Go on; get the hell out of here. I’ll stall as best I can.”
As Rory struggled to come to grips with the sharp turn of events, Kieran understood the circumstance well; aye, he was quite used to fleeing like a criminal, when one’s life depended upon the ability to think and react quickly. He’d spent months of his life doing just that as he evaded Simon and his cutthroats. And it would seem he was destined to continue the tradition in the wake of Bud’s selfless sacrifice.
“Thank you, Dr. Dietrich,” he said quietly, grabbing Rory’s hand and moving for the ajar panels. “Your sacrifice is appreciated and we shall delay no further.”
Bud met the gem-clear gaze, a thousand words demanding to be expressed. But he hardly had the time. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences. Just… take good care of her. All I’ve ever wanted is for her to be happy.”
Kieran met his expression strongly, with the greatest sincerity. In spite of everything they’d been through, the bitterness and tension, he was willing to pretend none of it had never existed. Everything that had been said or done had been in Rory’s best interests and Kieran could hardly fault the man his loyalties. “Have no doubt, my lord. I swear on my oath that I shall make you proud.”
Rory found herself being pulled along, out into the garden. But not before she gave Bud one last try; she simply couldn’t imagine being without him in the final throes of the most important task of her life. Now that he and Kieran were finally coming to terms with one another, she was more desperate than ever for Bud’s wise, level-headed company.
“Please, Bud! Please come with us!”
His gaze was soft, her pleas weakening him. The thought of separation, perhaps never to see her again, tore at him and he reached out his hand, brushing her outstretched fingers one last time. Feeling her warmth touch him, the golden magic it had always provoked. But she had made her choice and he wasn’t a part of it; there was no use in torturing himself. But, Christ, with every step she took, the knife of anguish plunged deeper and deeper into his already-battered heart.
“I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “Go on, honey. Do what you have to do.”
Bud slammed the French doors and locked them before she could argue further. Kieran was tugging her gently and she followed him dumbly, wishing there was time to tell Bud how much he had meant to her. How much he would always mean to her in spite of the fact that she wasn’t in love with him. But the look in his eyes as he gazed at her through the glass, the final expression on his face before Kieran whisked her through the sweet English foliage, spoke volumes that reached her very soul. Whether or not she had be able to verbalize her feelings, he seemed to know. He seemed to sense it.
You’re really not such a bad guy, after all.