Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (8 page)

“
Does the interiors?”
Aurelia echoed.

The priest waved to the hall below as they
reached the landing. “She buys stuff, picks colors, chooses
furnishings, wall paper, lamps, flooring tiles. You know, she does
interior design.”

It seemed ridiculous to make up a new name
for a practice as old as time. Obviously, the pleasures Marissa
gave Bard in bed loosened his purse strings - and her position as
his mistress granted her a household position similar to a
wife.

Aurelia levelled a knowing glance at the
priest as they mounted the stairs. “She spends his coin.”

That man’s lips quirked at her terse
summary. “Yes. In a way, yes, that’s what she does.” The priest
gestured to the lavish room behind them. “She bought all that. And
all this.” He threw open the carved wooden doors at the summit.

The doors swung inward silently despite
their obvious weight and a long hallway hung with glistening
crystals was revealed. Countless doors marched on either side of
the corridor, following one after the other as far as Aurelia could
see.

The tapestry cast on the floor here was
crimson, crisscrossed with a rope pattern worked in shades of gold.
It gleamed with the luster of silk, was as thick as a cushion, and
stretched on seemingly forever. Aurelia could not even imagine how
long it would have taken to weave, let alone how many women would
have to lend their hands to the task.

It was shocking to think of walking on such
a work, but the priest strode across it without a second thought.
He paused before the fourth door on the left side of the
corridor.

“
And this.” The priest slid
a thin square into a slot above the door handle. Aurelia saw
something red flash, then he pulled back the square into his hand,
as though he would conceal it from her. He opened the
door.

It was a ritual, obviously, a protective
spell.

But now, the priest had disappeared inside
and left her behind. Aurelia took the two longest steps she could
manage - on her tiptoes - across the magnificent tapestry to reach
the narrow strip of wood flooring revealed on the far side. She
sidled along the wood, careful not to step on the tapestry again,
and peeked through the door that the priest held open.

And was amazed by the magnificence of the
furnishings. The room was ornamented in a deep and pleasing
sapphire hue, the bed hung with heavy tapestries, the floor thick
with rugs.

“
King Bard’s chambers,”
Aurelia whispered, certain that this luxury could be for no one
else.

It was shockingly intimate to look upon his
private chambers. Aurelia was certain the king would have words for
the priest, had he guessed that she was here.

Perhaps it was the fact that this was a
stolen view that made a heat unfurl in Aurelia’s stomach as she
eyed the great bed. It was so easy to imagine Bard sleeping
there.

Nude.

On his back, as all warriors slept, one hand
flung out across the pallet. His broad chest would be tanned
golden, the dark hair that adorned it slightly curly. Aurelia’s
toes curled at the vivid image she had of him. He would smile that
provocative half-smile when he awakened and his eyes would glitter
that dangerous sea green.

And his strong fingers would rest on the hip
of his whore, who curled by his side in a most proprietary
manner.

Aurelia inhaled sharply and glared at the
priest, uncertain why the thought of Bard’s whore troubled her so
much. The pair deserved each other!

The priest shook his head. “No. Baird’s room
is the first one.” He nodded to the left. “This one might as well
be yours.”

Aurelia blinked, but he was not teasing her.
Though she was a noblewoman, Aurelia had expected accommodation
markedly more austere.

Like a dank, stone cell.

“
It’s no big deal,” the
priest said with a shrug, evidently noticing Aurelia’s surprise.
“It’s just one of the guest rooms.”

Such a room for guests.

For any guest who stumbled into the
hall.

Aurelia wandered into the room in disbelief.
She touched the silken softness of the thick bed curtains and felt
the carved solidity of the bedpost beneath.

Suddenly she thought of all the doors facing
this corridor and swiveled to face the priest. “And the other
doors?” she demanded, half-expecting his answer but not daring to
believe such whimsy possible.

The priest shoved his hands into pockets
hidden in his chausses. “They’ll all be guest rooms, once they’re
finished.”

All of them! Aurelia’s mind darted ahead.
There had to be fifty rooms in this hall alone. And Marissa had
made each one finer than the last - simply to entertain guests!

Oh, she was an expensive indulgence, to be
sure.

“
How can you imagine that
she is not his whore?” Aurelia demanded, before realizing she had
given voice to the thought.

The priest hooted with laughter and Aurelia
felt her cheeks stain pink. But his twinkling glance was without
condemnation and oddly enough, his merriment put her in mind of her
lost brother Thord.

The memory saddened Aurelia.

The priest sobered when she did not share
his laughter. “Whatever she does now, Marissa hasn’t made any
secret of her ambition to marry Baird, at least to everyone other
than Baird himself.” He frowned. “I wish he’d open his eyes for a
change.”

Aurelia’s mind flew. Marissa as wife would
be even more influential than she was as whore. It made perfect
sense that she would seek such a position.

And just as much that the priest would be
adverse to having such a powerful adversary lodged at Bard’s side
over the long term. Evidently, it pleased him that Aurelia and the
whore had not taken to each other.

But why?

The pieces fit together with horrifying
precision. The priest had mentioned the prophecy of Aurelia’s birth
in the well. Further, the priest had not made a murmur of protest
when Aurelia had seized the excuse for looking like a fool and
kissed the king.

Finally and perhaps most tellingly, the
priest had chosen this fine prison for Aurelia.

Could the priest be planning for her to
marry Bard, son of Erc, instead of that man’s whore? Aurelia’s
mouth went dry. There were too many things lining up to be counted
to be accidental.

She had to know the truth.

When Aurelia spoke, she was careful to keep
her tone frivolous. “But what does King Bard think of such plans?
Surely he has a picked a bride for himself?”

“
Right. He can’t see for
looking when it comes to women.” The priest was skeptical. “And
he’d do better to marry someone with connections
anyhow.”

Aurelia toyed with the bed curtains.
“Connections?”

“
Sure! A woman from a
prestigious family, you know, one with property that Baird could
develop, or with an influential father. That’s the kind of wife he
needs, not the daughter of some bank teller in Des Moines who only
wants to spend his money as quickly as he can make it.”

“
Des Moines?”

The priest grimaced. “It’s infinitely
forgettable. I’m not surprised that you haven’t heard of it.” He
wagged a warning finger at Aurelia. “But I’ll tell you one thing,
they don’t talk like that in Des Moines.”

Aurelia kept her mouth shut, because she
could not understand what he was talking about.

“
She’s as fake as a three
dollar bill. Watch the accent,” the priest hissed. “When she gets
ticked off “ - he snapped his fingers - “ it’s midwest twang all
over.”

The priest shook his head and shoved his
hands into his pockets, the very image of a discouraged man. “I
can’t figure out why he can’t see that she’s not his type at all.”
He sighed. “It’s Jessica all over again.”

And who was Bard’s type, to the priest’s
mind?

A woman with a prestigious family. A woman
with a powerful father. A woman with a property Bard wanted.

A woman just like Aurelia.

Knowing it had been done a thousand times
before did not make the reality any easier to face. Aurelia’s heart
trembled at the prospect of being wed to a deceitful murderer, a
conqueror with an iron will and an enchanting kiss.

Against her volition.

And apparently against Bard’s. But this
priest was powerful, that much Aurelia knew already. Bard had
staged her reawakening to comply with the prophecy of her birth,
evidently at the priest’s bidding - or at least, he had not fought
the priest on this.

Was he already bowing to the priest’s
scheme?

Bard wanted Dunhelm and at any cost, Aurelia
knew that. And with her father missing, Bard could secure his
ascendancy over Dunhelm by marrying the former king’s daughter.

Aurelia swallowed and let the drape slide
through her fingers. Her imagination supplied the image of Bard
nude in this bed once more.

Except this time, his hand was on her own
bare hip. Aurelia felt the strong imprint of his lips moving
against hers, felt again the weight of his hands locked around her
waist.

It was Bard’s fault that her thoughts were
muddled, Aurelia concluded savagely. His kiss had confused her.

No. Liking his kiss had confused her.

Aurelia crushed the rich fabric in her hand.
She hated that she had already been so readily manipulated. Would
she be able to resist Bard’s charm if it was turned fully upon her?
Or would her feminine weakness betray both her and her family?

She suddenly became aware that the silence
between herself and the priest had stretched overly long, and
rushed to fill it with the first thought that came to mind.

“
My mother oft said that
men do not marry their whores.” Aurelia heard a sharpness in her
voice that she had not intended. “Even if they indulge
them.”

The priest chuckled and watched her with
twinkling eyes. “Why would a man buy the cow when he can have the
milk for free, right?”

It was an apt parallel. Aurelia met the
priest’s dancing gaze and was reminded again of her lost brother.
Even knowing his intentions for her, Aurelia could not help but
smile tentatively back.

He grinned and stuck out his hand. “Julian
Preston. Call me Julian.”

Aurelia stared at his hand, then took it as
that seemed to be his expectation. Julian squeezed her fingers,
pumped her hand up and down twice, then released it.

A strange gesture indeed. Aurelia wondered
what it meant.

“
And you may call me
Aurelia.”

“
Instead of Princess?”
Julian seemed to be struggling not to laugh. The similarity to
Thord was most telling when his eyes danced and Aurelia, despite
her determination not to like the priest, felt some sisterly
affection dawn within her.

“
Only in private, of
course,” she advised him, much as she would have advised her
brother with his short memory for such details. “In the hall, you
will still have to use my title.” Aurelia frowned, unable to
understand why this was so amusing to the priest.

Did they not have decent manners in Rome
either?

“
Well, make yourself at
home.” Julian waved cheerfully and tossed his blessing square
towards Aurelia.

She no sooner caught it than he was gone,
leaving Aurelia alone in the chamber decorated by Bard’s whore. The
door closed with a solid click that made her realize this chamber,
regardless of its richness, was a prison, after all. And, as his
prisoner, Aurelia was subject to the whim of Bard, son of Erc.

Whatever that might be.

*

Aurelia waited a few moments, then
surreptitiously checked the door. She fully expected it to be
secured from the outside.

But it was unlocked.

To Aurelia’s further amazement, the corridor
outside was empty. The distant sounds of hammering carried to her
ears, but no guard was posted watchfully outside.

Ha! They must think her witless, after all!
She propped open the door with her toe and slid Julian’s magic
square into the slot, exactly as he had done.

Nothing happened.

But there had been a light when Julian did
it. Perhaps she did not know the proper incantation. Who knew what
Julian might have muttered under his breath, or whispered in his
mind? She stepped out into the corridor, trying to examine the slot
in better light.

The door closed with a resolute click.

Aurelia turned the handle, but the door was
locked against her! She was trapped in the corridor, of all
foolishness! What kind of malicious magic was this?

In desperation, Aurelia shoved Julian’s card
into the slot once more, but this time, a red dot glowed
thrice.

It was a sign. Three was a powerful number,
that much was certain, and red, a color of protection for ages
past.

It must be safe to enter the chamber once
more.

Aurelia cautiously tried the handle again,
and magically, the door was now unlocked. She darted inside,
fingering the card, and marveled at Julian’s power. Aurelia fought
to make sense of Julian giving her the ability to lock herself
outside of the room and could not.

Perhaps his spell had twisted itself
backwards. Such things happened when magic was wrought in
haste.

Or perhaps Julian was less powerful than
Aurelia had feared. Now that was an encouraging thought! Aurelia
grinned with satisfaction and her mind worked furiously. What
should she do? At any moment, Julian could repair his spell and
trap her inside the chamber.

This might be her only opportunity to find
her sire without observation.

Clearly, her father was either dead or
imprisoned. And if Aurelia were in Bard’s place, intending to let
Hekod be forgotten, where would she have imprisoned the deposed
king? The answer was simple beyond all.