Chapter 24

Juliet clung to Rafe. The floor had disappeared so quickly, and she’d been suspended solely by Rafe’s strength. She had no idea how he’d pulled her up. Her arms ached, and the adrenaline rush left her nauseated and shaky.

He kissed her head, and she wanted to snuggle in closer. Instead, she backed away.

“Let’s finish so we can leave.” She hated this place. Being in her old room had filled her with painful memories. Like the summer night Rafe strapped a telescope on his back and climbed her tree so they could seek out the Pegasus constellation. She also hadn’t wanted to talk about his work as a sniper. Assassin. Whatever.

Yes, she was a coward.

He helped her up and found his rifle. It didn’t take long to check out the first floor sitting room and conservatory. Most of the windows had been broken, and closets were bare. The kitchen was a giant crater, so they stayed out. Her father’s study had a space in the wall where the second safe had been. On the other side of the house, the living room was a bird habitat. That left the boarded-up dining room.

“Looks like the dining room is our last chance to find the vial, grants, or windows.”

“Give me your coat,” he said as he took off his own. “It’s too hot.”

She tossed it to him, grateful for the cooler air against her skin. They’d left them on to protect them from debris and mosquitos, but he was right. They were overheating.

He disappeared for a moment and came back with a crowbar from his backpack. Without his jacket, his muscled chest and arms seemed so much more powerful. The hair on his arms barely covered the contracting muscles in his forearms and biceps. The way his wide chest rose with each breath left her light-headed.

Every time she saw him in a T-shirt, she was reminded of how much he’d changed. She’d thought the man she married was hot. What was she supposed to do with the supersized version? Look at the names and ignore the blue ribbon.

Still, another voice in her head said, His strength just saved you.

She bit her bottom lip and led the way. “I’ve no idea why my daddy closed up the dining room. I don’t ever remember eating in there. He must’ve been crazy.”

“I used to think that, but now I’m not sure.” Rafe used the crowbar to pry off the two-by-sixes crossing the double doors. Once they were down, he pushed the doors open, and she flicked on the flashlight. All of the windows were covered by plywood. She held the light while he worked on freeing them, inside and out. An hour later, mottled sunlight filtered in. Except for the interior wall with the fireplace, the octagonal room was made up of twelve ten-foot-tall, stained-glass windows with marble pillars between them.

“Wow,” she whispered. “They’re beautiful. In a horrible kind of way.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know these were here.”

She went to the farthest window, with the Roman numeral I, and pulled out her phone to take photos. A woman on the balcony of an Italian villa was dropping a lily—her lily—to a man. They were both dressed in late Renaissance costumes, and behind him stood an oak tree and a yew tree. “She’s Italian, but he’s English. From the clothes, I’m guessing late fifteen hundreds to early sixteen.”

“He looks like he should be in an old pirate movie.”

Juliet snapped a picture of a square in the corner with the initials JL. “I wonder if JL is the artist.”

“Maybe.”

She moved to the next one. The second showed a king signing a stack of papers, with the Charleston coastline in the background. “I bet that’s King Charles signing the King’s Grants.”

In the third, a man planted crops in her back meadow. Behind him, a ship was coming in from the ocean.

“That ship’s flying a black pirate flag,” Rafe said.

Number four had the same pirate ship, but this time the farmer was lying on the ship’s deck, his neck slit. She took a photo of the pirate standing over the dead man. “He’s holding a vial.”

“And look at that second pirate flag flying beneath the skull and crossbones. It’s black with a white Capel lily.”

She’d never seen that before.

The fifth window was a scene of brightly dressed people in the back meadow dancing around a maypole surrounded by lilies. Dead men lay on the side.

Window number six? A pregnant Puritan woman holding a mortar and pestle with children in the field behind her.

The seventh window showed dead children stacked up around the pregnant Puritan woman, with a broken rope around her neck. “That must be Anne Capel,” Juliet said.

“Probably.”

In number eight, a pregnant woman held a dead Puritan man while a house burned behind her.

“These are dark.” Rafe took her hand, and they stopped in front of the ninth window. Anne was handing a velvet-lined box with two vials to two men in tricorn hats and capes who were bowing to her. One of the men was giving her a scroll in return.

“At least we know your vial is real,” she said.

They went to the tenth window, where a Puritan girl was burning at a stake. Two women stood behind, crying. “One of the crying women is an older Anne.”

“Look at eleven,” Juliet said. A young man was being dragged away by the same two bowing men, the burnt girl lying in a grave in front of him. “What are they doing?”

“No idea.”

The twelfth window showed two pirates on the deck of a pirate ship. The first was an older version of the young man from the previous window. His face was carved out by years in the sun and punctuated by brilliant black eyes. The other man, with a scowl etched in hatred, held two bloody swords. The two bowing men lay at his feet, throats slit. This pirate flag had a red heart with a sword going through it and sans pitié on the bottom.

“It’s the Prideaux pirate flag, similar to Calum’s sigil,” she said.

Flying beneath it was a flag with nine vertical stripes: five red, four white.

Rafe pointed to it. “That’s the rebellious stripes flag. A sign of the Sons of Liberty.”

“This last scene takes place during the Revolution.”

“And our pirates were revolutionaries.”

“Who are those dead bowing men?”

Rafe’s face hardened. “They’re Fianna warriors. And I’m guessing they burned the pirate captain’s wife, and he got his revenge.”

“That’s gruesome.” Juliet peered closer to take another photo. “There were Fianna warriors in the seventeenth century?”

“The original Fianna warriors were Irish, pre-Christian Druid soldiers who fought off the Romans during the invasion of Britain.”

He’d given her information? A miracle. “Pete said that was nonsense.”

“Some of what Garza said was true, some wasn’t.”

She’d love to know which parts were true, but Rafe would only share when he was ready. Or when she had the right questions. “Why are they in my windows?”

“One of the jobs of the Fianna is to protect secrets. It looks like they’re putting Anne and her vial under their protection.”

She scrunched down to take more photos with better light. “Is that a normal Fianna thing?”

“The vial must be dangerous for the Fianna to be involved. Maybe the same reason the Prince wants it now.”

The room temp had risen, and she wiped her arm across her forehead. “At least we know there were King’s Grants and a vial. What I don’t get is what my family’s history has to do with Nate’s operation in Afghanistan.”

Rafe met her near the fireplace. “I have no idea.”

“Why would anyone give each woman of the unit one of my lilies?”

“My guess is to send a message. The setup of Nate’s men was well planned and well funded. It was also personal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nate and his men could’ve been executed. Instead they were held prisoner for two years. It’s expensive to run a POW camp.”

“You’d know this from experience?”

He shrugged and ran his hand over the fireplace mantel that was almost as high as his shoulders. “This isn’t just about Nate and his men. Someone wanted to send a message to Kells Torridan.”

“You said Kells told Nate about Anne Capel. Does Nate know how Kells found that name?”

“Great question.” Rafe blew the dust off his fingers. “And I doubt it. Kells has a reputation for keeping his intel close and his officers in the dark.”

She rubbed a damp strand out of her eyes. “Kells always was a controlling bastard.”

Rafe wiped his fingers on his pants before tracing her cheek with his thumb. “Kells does what’s best for his men. Regardless of whom he hurts.”

Rafe dropped his hand, and she exhaled, unaware she’d been holding her breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

No. “Yes.” She held onto the woodwork he’d dusted with his fingers. Then she ran her hands over it, feeling the intricate pattern. “This feels hand-carved.”

His flashlight moved across the length. “The design matches the carvings on the staircase’s newel posts.”

Thunder rocked outside, reminding her their time was short. Wanting a few more moments without the world pressing in, she blew away dust to expose the intricate pattern. “Oak leaves intertwined with yew leaves.”

A branch cracked outside, and a man screamed.

Rafe took her hand, and they ran into the foyer.

The man screamed again, and Rafe said, “Stay here.” With his rifle ready, he took off.

A chill went down her spine, and she followed him around the side of the house. If there was something to face, they’d do it together. A gunshot splintered the air, and the sound wave silenced the chatter of insects. When she caught up, Rafe stood over a teenage boy with a dead copperhead snake near his leg.

Rafe aimed his rifle at the boy, who scrambled back. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just checkin’ out where they found the dead body.”

She touched Rafe’s shoulder. “He’s one of the Marigny boys. Eddie, right?”

“Yeah.” The kid, no more than seventeen, raised both hands. “Like I said—”

“I heard what you said,” Rafe said. “Leave now. And next time you show up on my wife’s land, I won’t ask before shooting.”

The kid scrambled to his feet, his shirt dirty, his boots worn. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’.”

“You’re trespassing,” she said. “And I’ll make sure Sheriff Boudreaux knows about it.”

“Like Jimmy’ll care what you say? Juliet Perdue who lives in a zoo? The little lost girl who married the fucking traitor?”

Rafe shot into the ground near the kid’s feet. Eddie turned and ran.

When he disappeared into the woods, she said, “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

“Nothing good ever came from the Marigny family.”

“People used to say that about the Capel family.”

Rafe hooked the rifle on his shoulder, and she walked into his arms. There were still so many things between them, so many unanswered questions, and being with him required a trust she wasn’t sure she was capable of. But in this moment, she pretended the past eight years hadn’t happened. That they’d lived a happy, married life. That they still loved each other.

* * *

Rafe held his breath. Her head rested against his chest, and her hands were on his waist. Slowly, he enclosed her in his arms and listened to her breathing. This was the first time she’d initiated physical contact with him that wasn’t due to stress or surprise. His body heated up and hardened. While he didn’t hide his arousal—he’d never lied to her about how she affected him—he didn’t move either. Whatever happened in this next breath had to be up to her.

If given a choice, though, he’d loosen her hair. Since returning, he’d only seen it up, braided, or beneath a wig. He’d yet to see it flowing over her shoulders and caressing her breasts. Bare breasts, preferably. His hard-on pressed against his zipper, ready to get on with that plan. He groaned against her head. She smelled of lavender and sunshine, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever let her go.

Thunder rumbled again, and she whispered, “We should leave.”

He released her, and his heart wept for the loss while his body ached with unreleased tension. Sighing heavily, he adjusted his rifle and took her hand. The agonizing truth speared him in the gut. No matter what he did with the rest of his life, which probably included dying violently in service to the Fianna, he’d never love another woman.

Like he’d told Escalus, Rafe could leave her if he had to. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would destroy him. If all the stars in all the skies fell to earth sending the world into darkness, it wouldn’t compare to the desolation of losing Juliet.