Chapter 40

Juliet led Rafe up the steps of Calum’s mansion. “We’re late.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Showering with you was worth it.”

Heat worked its way up her neck and cheeks. Their lovemaking had been unbelievably erotic and powerfully cathartic. They’d offered everything they had to each other, with the unspoken promise to protect each other’s hearts. She’d feel better if they could find that vial and figure out a way to get Rafe out of his tithe. But they’d found her grants, and she was sure they’d solve the rest. “I hope Calum doesn’t yell at us.”

“Maybe me, but never you.” Rafe chuckled under his breath and rang the bell. “I hope this place isn’t still haunted.”

The red Greek Revival house with white columns was considered the city’s most haunted home. “Samantha is convinced a ghost felt her up here.”

The door opened, and Calum’s butler/chauffeur, Ivers, ushered them in.

“Good evening, Miss Capel. Mr. Montfort is recuperating in the drawing room.”

“Thank you.” Juliet moved in while Rafe placed the duffel in the marble foyer. The low thud filled the spacious area marked off with red marble columns, a crystal chandelier, and two authentic Roman statues.

“It’s good to see you again, Ivers,” Rafe said.

“You as well, sir.”

Juliet touched Ivers’s hand. “Thank you for driving Miss Munro and Mr. Walker out to the Isle today.”

A flush traveled up Ivers’s neck. “My pleasure, Miss.”

“You’re late.” Calum appeared with a glass of scotch. He wore gray wool pants, a black shirt, and a burgundy silk tie. He kissed her on the cheek. “Philip is resting while we wait for the others.”

Juliet was glad she’d changed into a black linen dress and black patent-leather sandals and tied her hair into a high ponytail. Calum liked his guests to look good.

“We were delayed.” She took Calum’s arm, and he led her to the drawing room. “How’s Philip?”

“In pain but hiding it.” Calum tapped her arm. “Since the greatest fear of most men is to be shamed in front of other men, he’s determined to act strong.”

Like Rafe, who wore black trousers with a black long-sleeved shirt molded to his sculpted chest. He had a gun in the holster on his leg and hers in the coat he carried. With his smooth gait and the way he studied every detail, he oozed confidence and controlled violence. When he caught her stare, he winked, and she turned quickly.

Yes, she could see how Philip wouldn’t want to show weakness around his brother.

Calum opened double doors, and she went into her favorite room of the fourteen-thousand-square-foot house. Although it had a walk-in fireplace, two couches, four arm chairs, and Aubusson carpets, it felt cozy.

When she saw Philip on the couch, dressed but covered in a blanket, she sat on the coffee table across from him. “I’m glad you’re out of the hospital.”

Rafe gripped Philip’s shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”

Philip’s eyes darkened. “It’s a scratch.”

“You were gouged,” Rafe said.

“I’m fine.”

“Where’s Pops?” she asked, hoping to break the tension between the brothers.

Philip shrugged. “Pops left.”

She wasn’t surprised. She picked up Philip’s sketch pad and noticed a stack of architectural plans. “Are you working on Prideaux House?”

“I am. Mr. Delacroix said he dropped off plans at your store. He’s anxious to start.”

Calum handed Philip a glass of sparkling water. “Miss Nell’s devastated by Miss Beatrice’s death and won’t sign the papers to sell the mansion.”

“Speaking of papers,” Rafe said, “we’re late because we found Juliet’s King’s Grants.”

“Really?” Calum quirked an eyebrow. “Where?”

She told them the story, leaving out the snake. “I have the grants. Once Rafe signs my deeds, I’ll sell the land. And since Carina paid me, I made payroll.”

“When did that happen?” Calum handed her a glass of red wine, which she placed on the coffee table. After the previous night, she was hesitant to drink anything.

“This afternoon.”

“Hmmm.” Calum took out his phone and started texting.

Philip adjusted himself on the couch. “Things are working out.”

“Not sure about that,” Calum murmured while his fingers worked the keyboard.

“Me neither.” Rafe stood by the fireplace with one arm on the mantel, the other holding his glass. “Selling your land is a terrible idea.”

Calum picked up his glass to clink Rafe’s. “To not selling Juliet’s land.”

“Hear, hear.” Rafe drank his water while Calum finished his scotch in one gulp.

She ignored them.

“You’ve no vision,” Philip said to the other men. “Selling that land will give Juliet freedom to do whatever she wants wherever she wants.”

She stood. “I’m going to pay off my loan, and I may travel. To Venice.”

Rafe coughed so hard he put down his glass. Then his cell buzzed. Once he’d read the text, he came over and kissed her hand. “I need to leave. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Calum said.

She exhaled and forced herself to act normal. Except the silence filled the space until Philip grabbed an engineering drawing of the Prideaux House gardens.

“See this?” Philip pointed to arches and supports. “The underground pipes? And the rectangular basin beneath the fountain? It’s a cistern.”

She gasped and took the plans. “That means more water features. A fish pond on the side of the house. A waterfall behind the parterre. A fountain in front of the cascading stairs. It could rival the water gardens at the Calhoun Mansion in Charleston.” She hugged the drawing against her chest. “It’s wonderful news.”

“What are we celebrating?” Calum returned, but his smile seemed tighter than before.

She smiled at him. “The cistern under the Prideaux House.”

Calum poured another scotch. “Most are caved in or filled with debris.”

“Don’t be a pessimist,” she said.

Philip picked up his phone and texted like a Calum clone. “I’m not sure Calum trusts Delacroix being in his city.”

“I don’t know him well enough to trust him.”

“Everything’ll work out,” she said. “We found my grants, we’ll find Rafe’s…thing.”

“Hopefully before anyone else gets hurt.” Philip laid his phone on the table, face down. “When Rafe leaves, so will the violence.”

“That’s not fair.” Nate walked into the room with Ivers. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt with a biker jacket. He’d pulled back his long hair, and the circles around his eyes looked like someone had gouged them out with an ice-cream scoop and shoved them back in.

“Mr. Walker has arrived.” Ivers spoke, turned, and left.

Nate held out his hand to Philip. “I’m Nate Walker.”

Philip shook. “Calum told me about you and Pete.”

“Really?” Nate sent a questioning glare toward Calum. “I can’t imagine what he said.”

“Only that you’re helping Juliet and Rafe find something.” Philip tilted his head. “What did you mean by my comment not being fair?”

Nate laid his jacket on a chair and stood by the fireplace. “People assume soldiers thrive on violence, when the truth is we’re the biggest peaceniks. It’s not in our best interests to encourage wars since we’re the ones who have to fight. Our goal is to be so strong and intimidating, people will think twice about starting anything.”

“You don’t know Rafe,” Philip said. “He’s been at odds with everyone his entire life.”

“I trained Rafe. Served with him on an A-team. He never sought out fights for violence’s sake. He just doesn’t back down when threatened. What you see as a character flaw, I see as fearlessness.”

“My brother went AWOL. From your unit. How can you defend him?”

“Sometimes men do the wrong thing for the right reason. And when that happens, they should be given the chance to make things right.”

Ivers appeared. “Dinner is served.”

Behind Ivers, a woman in pink scrubs held a tray of pills and bandages.

“Ivers,” Calum said, “will you escort Juliet and Nate? Philip and I will follow.”

“Yes, sir.”

She took Nate’s arm and whispered, “Thank you for defending Rafe.”

Nate squeezed her hand. “I was defending myself.”

* * *

Rafe stopped outside John Sinclair’s law office, Arragon next to him.

Rafe had been right when he’d seen Gabriel’s empty chamber. Balthasar had found the vial first. As much as that pissed Rafe off, he’d been shocked when Arragon told him about Balthasar ditching the Prince and joining the team who’d seduced Escalus away.

“It’s time,” Arragon said.

When Rafe had gotten the text demanding this meet and greet, it’d almost killed him to leave Juliet behind, not knowing if he’d ever see her again.

“I know.” The night stole the words from Rafe’s throat.

Even if he’d been set up, was the victim instead of the recruit, it didn’t matter. He was a Fianna warrior. If he grabbed Juliet and ran to the ends of the world, they’d be hunted and killed. Why had he thought he could see Juliet and leave without consequence? Because he was an arrogant bastard.

Arragon crossed his arms, his leather jacket squeaking with the stretching across his wide shoulders. “The choice is true.”

“Is it? I’m leaving the woman I love, breaking both of our hearts. Again.”

“Solemn vows are not made lightly. Between husband and wife. Knight and lord. But a man can only serve one master. ‘Twas known when you tithed.”

Except Rafe hadn’t understood back then. Arragon had tried to explain, but Rafe thought he could infiltrate the Fianna, find Colin, learn more about his momma’s death, and get out. “I have to choose between the woman I love and a vow I made under duress years ago.”

“If you’d listened then, you wouldn’t be here now.”

Arragon had always reminded him of Kells Torridan. “An elegant I told you so.”

“Balthasar has taken Samantha Barclay. He murdered Lady Habersham and the Fair Sally. Now he’s working with the same villain Escalus chose over the Prince. How many others must be sacrificed for your love?”

Arragon’s logic didn’t make this easier. The moment Rafe had seen Gabriel’s empty chamber, he should’ve called the Prince. But Juliet had been so alluring, dragging him to the shower, to his bed. While he might’ve been able to resist, he hadn’t wanted to. It was his last time in her arms, burying himself in her body, and he wasn’t strong enough to give that up. “Have you been sending Juliet texts about me?”

“No.” Arragon glanced at his watch. “And Escalus—then Balthasar—was responsible for Juliet’s vandalism. Not the Prince.”

“Did you desecrate the cathedral?”

“No. ‘Twas Balthasar.” Arragon sighed. “Balthasar hoped fear would drive you and Lady Juliet apart. He destroyed the lilies and left the verses. Afterward, I lit the candles and incense as reparations to the sacred space and offered prayers for the event to bring you together.”

Rafe remembered kissing her for the first time that night and how he ended up sleeping with her in his arms. “Thank you,” he said as another truth slapped him out of his self-centered haze. “Escalus killed Eugene, Legare, and Gerald.” At Arragon’s nod, Rafe added, “But you left those verses after finding their bodies. For me.”

Arragon looked up at the full moon pushing its way through the cloud cover. “To bring you comfort. And maybe hope.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“After your extradition, we knew you’d return to us in time. But a man can only lose so much. The Prince used your grief over your mother’s death to force you to join, making you believe the Fianna was involved, and he regrets that. The Prince wanted you to know we still considered you brother, albeit a wayward one.”

That didn’t leave Rafe with the warm tinglies. “Why didn’t you assassinate Escalus before he killed them?”

“We didn’t understand the depth of Escalus’s treachery until Gerald Capel’s death.”

“Do you know who killed my momma with a misericord?”

“The villain who lured Balthasar and Escalus is suspect but has not been confirmed.” Arragon clasped Rafe’s shoulder. “Once you return, the Prince will give you permission to find her murderer and avenge her death however you see fit.”

Seeking vengeance on behalf of his momma might temporarily deflect the pain of leaving Juliet. “When I walk away tonight, I’m leaving hope behind.”

Arragon bowed his head. “As you wish.”

Rafe swallowed, except his spit tasted bitter. Like regret mixed with sorrow. “What happens after I sign the deeds?”

“You may say farewell to the Lady Juliet. Although it might be easier to disappear.”

“I can’t do that to her again. I couldn’t live with myself.” He touched his lips. That would mean his kiss on her hand would be the last one he’d ever give her.

“Lady Juliet is uncommonly strong. She’ll survive.”

“Surviving is not living. You taught me that.”

“’Tis for the best. The Prince has assured me you’ll not face the Gauntlet if you come back willingly.”

“Why? I failed.”

“Losing your love will be punishment enough.”

Punishment? Arragon had no concept of the word.

Arragon waved to the darkness behind him. “Your brothers are waiting.”

A street lamp cast a glow around a twenty-foot area. In the shadows, Rafe counted six warriors. There were probably more. One warrior waited across the street, one on top of a truck, another in the entrance next door. Two stood on nearby roofs.

Arragon whistled, and the warriors moved simultaneously. They hit their chests with their fists and bowed their heads.

Rafe closed his eyes. There’d been so many deaths, so much destruction, maybe it was time for him to go home. Just not the home he yearned for.

He opened his eyes and entered the law office. Like the Band-Aid analogy, the sooner he did this, the sooner he could work through the pain. Although the queasiness in his stomach and the sharp ache in his heart warned him this pain would last his lifetime.