The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (27 page)

She
shrugged, sniffling. She couldn't believe that she had actually confessed her
deepest incentive for recovering the crown, the 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.

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 her turmoil.
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.

"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 days? 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? 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, 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 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?"

"Yes,"
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. 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.  But then,
he stopped.