Believe (22 page)

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He blew a long breath. “’Tis not the first truth revealed between us.”

“No,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”

“Tessa?”

“Hmmm?”

“Tell me of the stars.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close and she told him everything she’d ever learned about the stars, from Greek legend to science. And when sleep finally claimed her, she noted vaguely how, even when all its secrets were known, the night sky still held a touch of magic.

And so did his arms.

“T
essa!” Galahad’s hard tone jerked her from a restless sleep.

“What is it this time?” She snapped her eyes open. “I’m getting really tired of waking up this way.” She sat up and glared at Galahad towering over her. “Don’t you ever think about sleeping in? What is it today? Another dragon?”

“’Twould be preferable, I think.” His voice was even.

“Preferable?” She followed the direction of his gaze. Six or seven men, all armed with swords, stared back at them. Three stood, the rest were on horseback. She scrambled to her feet. “Oh, this looks good. Who in the hell are they?”

“Mordred’s men,” Galahad said softly. “This does not bode well.”

“I figured that much,” she said under her breath. Give these guys Harleys and they’d look exactly like the motorcycle gang from a bad movie she’d watched late at night a few months ago. Hell’s Angels on horseback. “How did they sneak up on us? Weren’t you supposed to be keeping guard or something?”

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I am but a man, Tessa, not a legend.”

“Swell,” she muttered. “Never a legend around when you need one.”

The tallest of those standing stepped forward, obviously the leader of the pack, the head minion. Dark and grubby and dangerous. A chill shivered up her spine and she stepped closer to Galahad. The biker swept a curt bow. “My Lord Galahad. I bring you greetings from Prince Mordred. He requests the honor of your presence and extends the hospitality of his home to you and your lady.”

“Send Mordred my thanks and my regrets,” Galahad said, his voice cool. “But we must decline his gracious invitation.”

A nasty smile curled the lips of the prince’s biker henchman. “Perhaps I did not make my meaning clear. The Prince insists on the pleasure of your company. My orders are to escort you. You may accompany us in the manner of a knight of your rank, as an honored guest, or…”

“Or?” Galahad’s eyes darkened.

“Or I fear we shall have to take measures to insure your cooperation.” His gaze slid to Tessa and slithered over her like a lustful snake. “And that of your lady.”

Galahad tensed at her side.

“What does that mean?” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “Insure our cooperation?”

“You do not wish to know,” he murmured. He nodded to the gang’s leader. “Then by all means, we shall be delighted to accompany you.”

“Sounds like fun. Do we have to leave right now or can I have a few minutes to freshen up?”

The minion’s eyes squinted as if he didn’t understand her question. Or possibly English.

“You know? Wash my face? Brush my teeth?” She smiled sweetly. “Pee in the woods?”

Galahad snorted. Even the biker had the grace to look embarrassed. “Very well,” he snapped. “But not alone. I shall go with you.”

He moved toward her. Galahad took a step in front of her to block him. “The lady deserves a semblance of privacy. I shall accompany her.”

The minion studied him for a moment then nodded. “As you wish. She may go but you must stay where I can see you. Forgive me, my lady, but should you attempt to escape our company—”

“Escape?” Galahad raised a brow. “’Tis an odd word to use for such a cordial gathering.”

“Pardon me, my lord, a slip of the tongue. Perhaps I should have said depart. Regardless…” He directed his gaze to Tessa. “I shall be forced to take whatever measures necessary to subdue both you and your knight.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of measures?”

“My lord prefers his guests still breathing.” Their captor grinned, a scraggly, yellow, gap-toothed parody. “But ’tis not always possible.”

“Thanks for clearing that up. Now,” she tilted her head at the stream, “can I go?”

He nodded. Tessa and Galahad turned and walked quickly toward the brook.

“What do we do?” she whispered.

“’Tis naught we can do, for the moment.” Concern creased his forehead.

“These are really bad guys, Galahad.” She glanced over her shoulder. The pack leader and two of his sidekicks watched them intently like wolves sizing up lambs. Were they hoping she and the Big Guy would make a break for it? Her stomach churned. Probably. “Really, really nasty.”

“Is Mordred, too, spoken of in your legends?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And?”

“And there are a lot of differences between the myth and real life. But from what you’ve told me, Mordred’s character is not one of them. Real or fairy tale, he’s a definite villain.”

They reached the stream and she bent down and splashed water on her face. “I hope you’re coming up with some kind of plan.”

“’Twould be nice,” he murmured.

“’Twould be, ’twouldn’t it?” Fear sharpened her words.

“Get on with it.” The biker’s voice cut through the morning like a sword. She shuddered. Bad metaphor.

“Chill out,” she yelled. “I’ll be done in a minute. I really do have to pee,” she muttered. “I’ll go over there, behind that tree. You just keep those goons away, especially the big one. I don’t like the way he looked at me.”

“Nor did I. I shall keep all the
goons
at bay.” He stifled a smile then sobered. “Do not worry, fair Tessa. I will not let any harm befall you.”

She gazed into his eyes. “I’m counting on that. And I’ll do my best to watch your back. I’ve already figured out one thing.”

“That is?”

She headed for the tree. “These guys are real.”

Maybe Mordred wasn’t that bad after all.

Tessa closed her eyes and sank back in the tepid water of the wooden tub in her room. They’d ridden all day and well into the night before reaching Mordred’s castle. Castle Le Fay. Nice fairy-tale name but she hadn’t gotten a good feel for it in the dark. She’d expected to be tossed in a dungeon as soon as they’d arrived. Instead, she’d been taken to a chamber similar to her quarters back in Camelot. Best of all, there was a bed. A real bed. She’d collapsed exhausted and slept a dreamless sleep. When she woke up, it was evening and a steaming tub was waiting for her. She had no idea how long she’d soaked and didn’t care but she’d never again take for granted the simple pleasures of life. A hot bath and a real bed.

A sharp knock sounded. Before she could say come in, the door swung open and a vaguely familiar figure, nearly as tall as Galahad with dark blond hair and a rather nicely built body, strolled into the room as if he owned the place.

“Hey!” She scanned the room for a towel and curled up in the tub, trying to cover all her most exposed parts with her hands. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah, the fair Lady Tessa.” The blond’s gaze raked over her and he smiled in appreciation. He really was awfully good-looking in a too-smooth, too-slick, time-share-salesman kind of way. “I was warned you were quite lovely but your reputation does not do you justice.”

“I don’t have a reputation,” she snapped. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He shrugged. “A lady’s reputation is of no real consequence to a man unless he is considering marriage. Which I am not.” He smiled wickedly. “Unless you would care to change my mind?”

She groaned. “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant do you mind—I’m naked here.”

He shook his head. “I do not mind that either.”

“Would you just hand me that”—she waved at something laid across a chair that looked more like a sheet than a towel—“that cloth over there.”

He plucked the sheet from the chair and started toward her.

“Wait. Stop. Don’t come any closer.”

“If you wish this.” He dangled the linen from two fingers. “I either have to bring it to you or you must fetch it from me.”

“Great.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Bring it here.” He stepped to the tub and held out the sheet. “Can you turn around? Or at least close your eyes?”

“I could, I suppose, but ’twould not be as much fun.”

“Fine.” She pulled herself to her feet and snatched the sheet from his hands, wrapping it around herself and climbing out of the tub. He smiled with obvious enjoyment.

“You’re Mordred, aren’t you?”

“Indeed I am.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. She was right—he did own the place. “I am honored to have you here.”

“It’s not like we had a choice.” She withdrew her hand and resisted the immediate impulse to wipe it on the sheet.

“No?” He drew his brows together. “Was not Oscar courteous and respectful in issuing my invitation?”

“Oscar?” An image of the chief biker flashed in her mind. “The leader of the pack’s name is Oscar?”

“Oscar is the captain of my guard. Does his name displease you?”

“I kind of thought he’d be more one of those single syllable guys. You know, something simple and basic like ‘Ugh’ or ‘Grunt.’”

He chuckled. “I was warned your speech was unusual but your meaning is apparent. Oscar is perhaps not as cultured as he could be.”

“Cultured? Try civilized. It must have been the leer that gave him away.”

“He does have an eye for the ladies. Nonetheless, he is extremely loyal, obeys orders and is far more intelligent than he appears.”

“The perfect goon,” she murmured.

“But I have not brought you here to discuss Oscar’s virtues—”

“Before we get into that, would you mind if I got dressed?”

“I think you are most lovely clad as you are.”

“I’ll bet.” Her gaze skimmed the room. “Do you have any idea where my clothes are?”

“If you refer to that rag you arrived in,” he raised a shoulder in a dismissive shrug, “I ordered it burned.”

“You burned my dress!” She glared. “What am I supposed to wear?”

“Do not despair, my lady, I have ordered a new gown to be found for you.” He walked back to the door, stepped into the corridor and barked a command to an unseen servant. Within a minute he returned, shutting
the door firmly behind him. “’Twill suit you, I think.” He held out a garment.

“Thanks. My old one was looking pretty ratty anyway.” She took the dress, glanced at it and grimaced. “It’s yellow.”

“A lovely color for one with your fair hair and dark eyes.”

“It’s great, if you like the jaundiced look. Now, turn around so I can get dressed.”

“If you are certain you do not need my assistance?”

“I’ll manage somehow.”

“Very well.” He turned and she dropped her sheet to struggle quickly into the gown.

“When you are ready, I wish to speak to you.”

“You know, I don’t think that’s such a good idea without Galahad.” She’d always wondered why everyone had servants in past eras. Now she knew. The clothing here wasn’t particularly complicated but she could use a little help.

“Without Galahad is precisely how I wish it.” His words had a hard edge.

She adjusted the gown and frowned. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “You can turn around now.”

He turned and gazed at her for a moment, a sleazy sort of admiration on his face. “I do envy Galahad your company, my lady. Your charms are quite obvious.”

“They’d be less obvious if there was more to this dress.” She tugged at the bodice of the low cut-gown in a futile effort to pull the dress higher.

He laughed. “And as witty as you are beautiful.”

“Thanks. Can we sit down?”

“Be my guest.”

“I already am,” she murmured and glanced around the room. Aside from the bed there was a single stool near the fireplace, a wooden chest and a long, armless bench. The bed was definitely out. The stool was too awkward so that left the bench. She moved to it with as much dignity as she could muster and sat down, keeping her spine rigid, sitting as straight and tall as possible. The last thing she needed was her chest hanging out. Now…” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“And direct as well. Excellent.” He strode to the bench and sat down beside her. She wanted to inch away but held her ground. “I have a proposal that may interest you.”

“I doubt it. What kind of proposal?”

His tone was casual. Too casual. “First, you should know I am well aware of Galahad’s quest. I would much prefer that he fail.”

“That’s a surprise.” He raised a brow at her tone. “Want to tell me why?”

“’Tis no secret there is no affection lost between Galahad and I.” A nasty light glinted in his eye. “I quite despise him and he cares little for me. ’Twould provide one of the pleasures of my life to do away with him without a second thought.”

“Swell.” Her stomach clenched. “So, what’s the problem? I thought everybody liked Galahad.”

“’Tis exactly why I do not.” He rose to his feet and sauntered across the room. “I know you are from a far-off land and are therefore not well versed in the intrigues and histories of my father’s kingdom.” He stopped and slanted her a pointed glance. “I am
his heir, you know. Next in line to be king of all the Britons.”

“That’s what I hear.”

“He will, however grudgingly, pass on to me his crown, but his affection is reserved for Galahad.” His voice hardened. “He regards Galahad as a son and myself as—”

“Scum of the earth?” she said sweetly.

“’Tis an odd phrase but well said, my lady.”

“Thanks.” She rose to her feet and folded her arms over her chest. “I can see why you don’t like Galahad but what does his quest have to do with you?”

“I do not wish to wait for my father’s death to achieve my rightful place.”

Unease crept up her spine. “I still don’t get it.”

“’Tis simple enough to comprehend.” His tone was cold and downright evil. How could she ever have thought he was cute? “My father is counting on the Grail as a symbol to pull the country together. I will not allow that to happen.

“Even as we speak, I have loyal followers in every corner of the kingdom. Supporters who agree with me that Arthur is not the man he was once. ’Tis past time to wrest control from him and place it in the hands of someone who will do for this land what he can do no longer. Someone with the courage to smite our enemies. To conquer, not compromise. England was once a country of proud warriors. My father has turned it into a land of weak old men. Arthur’s day is nearing an end and before it is too late, before we are crushed at the hands of our foes, the people need—nay—they demand a new king.”

“And that would be you?”