The Stolen Brides 02 -His Forbidden Touch (34 page)

“And before they could reach you, you
escaped,” Landers said. “They claimed you sledded down the hill on
your shield. I accused them of making that part up.”

“Nay, it is true.” Ciara glanced at Royce,
her eyes bright.

One corner of his mouth curved upward as he
remembered that particular adventure … and what had followed that
night at the inn.

He hoped he was the only one close enough to
notice her blush. She quickly turned to Thayne. “So Sir Bayard had
naught to do with what happened?” she asked. “He did not tell you
where we were?”

“Nay, Your Highness.” Thayne shook his head,
his brow furrowed. “I have heard of Sir Bayard, but he is not
involved with our efforts.”

Royce almost sighed in relief and shared a
quick smile with Ciara, glad that he had been wrong in suspecting
his friend.

“Milord, please tell me that we have
convinced you,” Miriam pleaded. “We mean neither of you any harm.
What reason do we have to lie to you now?”

“The lady has an excellent point, Baron,”
the rebel leader added. “If we wanted either you or Her Highness
dead, you would be dead already.”

Royce held Thayne’s steady, green-eyed gaze
for a long moment, realizing he could no longer deny the obvious
truth. “Very well, so you are not murderers or assassins. But that
still leaves one question—what do you want with us?”

“Your help.”

Now it was Royce’s turn to respond with a
soft sound of amusement. That was hardly the answer he had
expected.

But he was willing to hear more. “How is it
you think we can help you?”

“Aye,” Ciara said curiously, her hand
lingering on his arm as she turned to regard Thayne. “Miriam said
that you would explain the rest. I still do not understand what
good it would have done you to abduct me. If I do not marry Daemon,
the peace agreement will fail and he might wreak havoc on Châlons
again. We have already learned that we cannot defy him.”

“We only wished to keep you from your
wedding, Your Highness. To delay your marriage—”

“Long enough to give us time to locate
Prince Mathias,” Karl continued. “He is the rightful heir to the
throne.”

Royce began to understand their plan. “You
intend to persuade Mathias to return and wrest power from his
brother.”

“Exactly.”

Royce shook his head. “A fine idea,
if
he would agree. But Mathias has no interest in
ruling.”

“We believe he would change his mind,” Jarek
explained, “if he knew what has been happening in Thuringia these
past four years. Prince Daemon has brought our country to the brink
of ruin in his thirst for power. He has spent so much money on war
that his own subjects are starving. The people despise him and long
for his brother’s return.”

“We would rather have a priest for a king
than a devil,” Hadwyn said flatly.

“But where
is
Prince Mathias?”
Ciara asked. “You said you have all been working together for
months. Have you not spoken with him yet?”

Miriam sighed. “Nay, Your Highness. We must
find him first.”

“It should be simple enough to dispatch
messengers to Rome.” Royce turned toward Hadwyn. “Did you not tell
me he went there on pilgrimage?”

“Aye, milord. That is what Prince Daemon
told everyone. And Mathias did indeed disappear quite suddenly four
years ago, not long after the first peace negotiations ended—”

“But we no longer believe he went on
pilgrimage,” Jarek explained. “Some of us in Thuringia have been
trying to find him for more than a year, but there has been no
trace of him. In Rome or anywhere else.”

Royce felt a chill. “Mathias was the one who
initiated those first peace efforts. If Daemon decided he did not
want any further trouble from his brother—”

“We do not believe Daemon killed him.”

“You sound certain of that.”

“
Hopeful
would mayhap be a better
term,” Thayne said.

“There is a chance that Mathias is dead,”
Jarek admitted, “but even a man like Daemon has his limits. His
fears.”

Ciara blinked in amazement. “What does
Daemon fear?”

“Death, Your Highness. Daemon fears for his
immortal soul. After all he has done, he is afraid he will be
condemned to spend eternity in Hell.”

“You may have noticed that in every town of
Châlons he conquered, the churches were spared,” Thayne noted. “He
does not want to provoke the wrath of God.”

“And even for a prince, it is one thing to
kill enemies, or even peasants, but quite another to kill your own
brother—especially a holy man. A man who was about to take priestly
vows,” Jarek concluded.

“We believe it is more likely that Daemon
let him live,” Hadwyn said, “imprisoned where he would be no more
trouble.”

Royce grimaced. “But where? Have you any
ideas?”

“Aye,” Thayne said darkly. “We have narrowed
our search to the Ruadhan Mountains. One of our Thuringian guards
was able to secure that much information, after weeks of secretly
eavesdropping on Daemon’s meetings with his most trusted ministers.
The man later paid with his life when Daemon came to suspect he was
disloyal.”

“And if you think the prince is harsh with
his enemies,” Hadwyn murmured, “you would not wish to imagine how
he deals with traitors in his own ranks.”

Ciara shivered visibly. Royce had to resist
the urge to slip a comforting arm around her.

He glanced at Hadwyn and Jarek, realizing
that the two of them were placing their lives in danger every time
they set foot in the palace.

“This is madness.” Shaking his head, he
turned to Thayne. “The Ruadhans are the most treacherous range in
all of Europe. Even if you knew on
which
mountain Mathias
is imprisoned, you could be killed making the ascent when you try
to rescue him.”

“Exactly. Which makes it the ideal place to
imprison someone, permanently.”

“Which is why we will need the assistance of
an expert climber if we are to free him,” Karl added. “You left
behind a most interesting array of equipment with your
destrier.”

Royce glanced at him. “I do not suppose you
could tell me what
became
of my destrier?” he asked
hopefully.

“We left him with one of our people in the
town of Vasau,” Landers said.

Royce smiled in relief at the news that
Anteros was safe. Then he frowned. “I will want him back.”

“Aye, milord.” Thayne laughed. “That will
not be a problem.”

“And did you find a puppy as well?” Ciara
asked eagerly. “She was in a basket—”

“She is safe in Vasau as well, Your
Highness.” Thayne’s expression was hopeful as he looked at Royce.
“Though we did take the liberty of having your other things sent
here to us … just in case you agreed to help.”

Royce hesitated, but only for a heartbeat.
He had to do it. For his country’s future, for Ciara’s sake—and for
Mathias.

He owed the kindhearted prince a great
deal.

Glancing down at Ciara, he gave her a rueful
grin. “Your Highness, I hope you will forgive me, but I believe I
have just become a rebel.”

She did not look particularly happy about
his decision, but his announcement brought a hearty round of male
cheers.

Which were interrupted by Miriam speaking
softly to her mistress. “You, Your Highness, also have a difficult
task. We need you to ask a few careful questions and find out
where
Mathias is, if you can. The men could spend weeks
searching for him in the Ruadhans, and we do not have weeks—”

“Wait a moment,” Royce protested hotly, his
heart skidding to a halt. “You have been trying to abduct her all
this time—and now you mean to send her back to Daemon? She should
remain here, where she will be safe—”

“Milord, now that she has arrived at the
palace, she must stay there,” Landers told him. “This is not how we
wanted it to be, especially with the wedding planned for ten days
hence. That is why we tried to stop you
before
you reached
Mount Ravensbruk.”

“We have little time left to find Mathias,”
Thayne said tightly. “If Her Highness disappears now, it will raise
Daemon’s suspicions. We can ill afford that at this critical
point.”

Miriam took Ciara’s hands in hers. “Your
Highness, you may be the only one who can get the information we
need. It will not seem amiss that you are curious about Daemon’s
family. It makes sense that you would ask about his brother.”

“I do not like her taking such a risk,”
Royce bit out.

“Royce, they are right.” Ciara squeezed
Miriam’s hands, then turned to face him. “Daemon would never
suspect that
I
of all people am in league with the rebels.
I am the only one who can do it.”

Royce felt as if the cavern walls were
closing in on him. He looked at Thayne. “I do not want to send her
in there alone,” he insisted, jaw clenched. “I will—”

“Nay, milord, I cannot allow that.” Thayne’s
adamant tone held a note of regret.

“You would be well advised to stay
completely out of sight, since you are supposed to be dead,” Hadwyn
reminded him. “Daemon believes you are at the bottom of a cliff
somewhere.”

Royce muttered a frustrated oath, realizing
they were right. He could not return to the palace.

“But she will not be alone,” Miriam said
firmly, standing beside her mistress. “I will be with her.”

“And we will be near at all times,” Jarek
assured him.

“And I am not the same helpless princess I
once was,” Ciara whispered, her liquid gaze on his. “I have learned
that I am stronger than I thought. I can do it, Royce.”

Her courage, her willingness to place
herself in danger, only made him want to draw her close and keep
her safe. Keep her with him.

But once again, he had to let her go.

He clenched his fists, lifting his gaze to
the rebel leader’s. They stared hard at one another for a long
moment, and he sensed that Thayne understood what he was
feeling.

Understood that Royce was not merely
protecting his princess, but the woman he loved.

He asked one last question, fearing he
already knew the answer. “And if we do find Mathias, and he does
agree to take the throne from Daemon, what happens to her
then?”

“Our plan was that the wedding would go
forward as planned,” Thayne said quietly, “with a different prince
as the groom, to fulfill the peace agreement and assure the future
of both our countries.”

Royce looked down at Ciara, seeing the hope
in her eyes flicker and die. She had not understood until now, must
have thought that being free of Daemon meant she would be truly
free
, that the two of them could …

Only now did she realize what he had always
known: she would never be truly free. What he had said to her a few
days ago was still true.
Princesses do not marry mere
barons
.

His throat closed off at the anguish in her
eyes.

“It would appear that neither of us has a
choice.” Her voice was hollow.

“Indeed, Your Highness.” His mouth curved in
a bitter half smile. “It would appear that some things never
change.”

At least, he thought, she would not have to
wed Daemon. If he could never have her for his own, he could at
least give her that.

And with Mathias and Ciara on the throne,
Thuringia and Châlons would enjoy a bright future.

She dropped her gaze from his, blinking
hard, then looked up at Thayne. “I will have to return to the
palace at once, before anyone notices my absence.”

“Aye, Your Highness. But first let me tell
you how you might go about securing the information we will
need.”

C
iara slipped into
Daemon’s bedchamber and closed the door behind her.

Barely daring to breathe, she remained
frozen a moment, clinging to the latch. But the room was empty, as
she had hoped. And there was no time to waste on being afraid. One
of Daemon’s ministers had come to her chamber early this morning to
explain that the prince was busy with affairs of state and would be
unable to see her until after noon.

Which gave her the perfect opportunity to do
a bit of secret exploring before their first meeting.

Releasing the latch, she moved into the
room. The wedding procession from Châlons had arrived soon after
breakfast, and she and Miriam had enacted a joyous public reunion,
as if they had not seen each other in a fortnight. Everyone in the
castle now knew of King Aldric’s clever plan to protect his
daughter’s life.

And all rejoiced that the rebels had been
fooled.

Leaving Miriam upstairs to supervise the
unpacking of her belongings, Ciara had wandered the palace for the
past hour, and no one had questioned her. The servants and
retainers seemed to think it entirely natural that their future
mistress would wish to view her new home.

In fact, her gold coronet and ermine-lined
robes had everyone bowing and curtsying and generally keeping their
eyes downcast.

Which was most helpful to a princess who had
just become a spy.

The hem of her amber velvet gown rustled in
the rushes as she crossed the floor into the heart of Daemon’s
private lair. Sunlight streaked through a pair of large cathedral
windows fitted with clear glass, illuminating a room more lavish
than any she had ever seen.

Opposite the windows was a huge four-posted
bed hung with gold brocade curtains and covers, positioned between
two massive hearths that took up half the adjoining walls. The
soaring, vaulted ceiling had been hung with red-and-gold silk
banners, and there were tapestries everywhere—two of them depicting
Daemon himself, one in battle and one on the hunt.

A bathing tub filled one corner, and a long,
ornately carved chest stretched between the two windows, topped
with an array of precious goods, including gleaming silver great
helms and sparkling goblets made of glass. The rest of the room
also burst with riches: gold plates displayed above each hearth,
finely wrought silver stands crowded with candles, chairs cushioned
with tasseled pillows, carved chests of every description, many
crusted with jewels. It was clear he denied himself naught.