Kiss of the Rose (22 page)

“I’m not sure I can do that yet without devoting my entire attention to the effort.”

Rhys chuckled. “It will become easier, Sir Christopher. Remember, Rosalind and I have had a lifetime to perfect the skill.” He rose to his feet. “If you feel more prepared, perhaps we should go and seek our foe?”

Christopher stood as well and held out his hand to help Rosalind up.The moment her fingers touched his, a shock of energy shot up his arm. He dropped her hand as if she had burned him, and noticed she looked as dismayed as he did.

“What happened?” Rhys demanded.

Christopher kept his gaze fixed on Rosalind. He’d forgotten what Elias had said about his new ties with her.

“It’s nothing, Rhys,” Rosalind whispered, her hand clutched to her chest. “Sir Christopher accidentally pressed on the puncture marks Elias left on my wrist.”

Christopher studied her. Was she lying or had he really hurt her? He dismissed that notion as he recalled the stirring sensation in his own blood, of like recognizing like, of
knowing
… That had been no accident.

Rhys came around to stare at Rosalind, his expression concerned. “Are you sure it was nothing more?”

Christopher sighed and braced himself for Rosalind’s ire. He was beginning to feel like one of the oddities displayed at the county fairs, a creature so unusual that every one came to gawp at him. He guessed Rosalind still hadn’t told Rhys about what had really happened in the stone circle, and he could understand why. Without Rhys, their mission to destroy the Vampire would lose a valuable resource. Not to mention Rosalind’s feelings for Rhys and his for her.

“That is not the truth,” he said softly.

Rosalind glared at him, but Christopher kept his attention on Rhys.

“And what is the truth?”

“Elias suggested that if I could hear the Vampire in my head, I might also be able to sense Rosalind.”

Rhys went still. “He told you that?”

“Aye.”

Rhys’s gaze swung between him and Rosalind. “Be-cause of the prophecy, or because you are somehow connected to Rosalind by blood?”

Christopher cleared his throat. “I’m not sure.” He could give Rosalind that, a small breathing space, an opportunity for her to face her fellow Druid when she had her feelings and her explanations sorted out. “But I can sense Rosalind now.”

“Can you sense him?” Rhys asked.

Rosalind nodded and kept her gaze on the cracked mosaic floor.

“This mission becomes more and more fantastic every moment,” Rhys sighed. “Sir Christopher, you are not what I imagined at all.”

“I’m not particularly happy about these developments myself,” Christopher muttered as Rhys headed for the exit, Rosalind at his heels. His life had never been easy, but at least he’d known whom to hate and whom to protect. Now those old certainties were fragmenting before his eyes.

He lengthened his stride and caught up with Rosalind and Rhys. The palace grounds seemed quieter tonight. He imagined many folk were sleeping off the excesses of their May Day celebrations rather than carousing anew. He stopped as something shifted and whispered through his mind. “The Vampire is close.”

Rhys took out his dagger. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“Not really. It’s hard to protect my mind and allow the Vampire in at the same time.”

Rhys ignored his sarcasm and motioned to Rosalind to stand behind him. Christopher tried to concentrate. “She is”—he pointed ahead of them—“somewhere over there.”

“The queen’s apartments,” Rosalind answered.“Let’s go.”

She sprinted off into the darkness, the two men following along behind, daggers drawn, and swords ready at their sides. “I can smell her too,” Rosalind said over her shoulder. “She must be close.”

“Let’s enter here.” Christopher overtook Rosalind and headed for the secluded servants’ door he remembered in the back of the building. After a quick look inside, he ushered Rhys and Rosalind through the door and paused to listen. There were no sounds of violence, but that didn’t mean the queen was safe.

Rosalind started moving off down the hallway, but Christopher grabbed her arm. “She’s not here.”

She glanced up at him, the frustration on her face evident even in the faint candlelight. “Where, then?”

“I’m getting a sense of her moving below us.”

Rosalind turned and headed back toward a small door set in the underside of the staircase. “There are secret passageways that connect this wing of the palace to the king’s.”

“Ah,” Rhys murmured. “And how would you know that, my lady?”

Rosalind ignored him and opened the door to reveal a narrow passage that sloped downward and then spiraled away to the left. Christopher took a lighted candle from one of the sconces on the wall and handed it to Rhys, then took another for himself. Rosalind led the way through the tunnel, stopping at every bend to listen. Christopher tried to remember both to hide behind the newly constructed defenses in his mind and yet keep track of the Vampire. It proved so taxing he kept bumping up against Rhys.

Eventually, Rhys grabbed him by the shoulder and reversed their positions, leaving Christopher in the middle with himself at the rear. Rosalind beckoned them onward again, her slight figure crouched low, and her gaze fixed on the outline of the exit door. Christopher inhaled the unpleasant stench of the river and something far worse. He reached out to warn Rosalind, but it was too late; she had already opened the door.

A shrieking sound filled his senses as something fell upon Rosalind and he struggled to get out of the passageway to aid her. Even as he ran toward her, she kicked out at her attacker and he saw the glint of fangs as the creature’s head snapped back. Before he could move, a blur of motion to his left brought his dagger hand up, and he instinctively slashed at the approaching Vampire.

Rhys joined the fight, and for a while Christopher heard nothing but the hiss of Vampire breath, his grunts of effort and pain, and Rhys’s steady cursing in Welsh. In one appalled corner of his mind, Christopher watched himself parry the Vampire’s blow. He hadn’t been trained to fight Vampires— they were his allies. But as the Vampire launched another attack, Christopher realized he had no choice but to keep fighting or he might lose his life. He used his sword to hack at his assailant’s legs and then brought him down to the ground.

“Rhys!” he yelled.

Christopher just managed to roll out of the way before Rhys’s heavy sword came down and severed the Vampire’s head at the neck. He remained on his back as Rosalind came into view, fighting another Vampire, her expression feral, her dagger hand already stained with blood. He looked up at Rhys. “Should we help her?”

Rhys shrugged as he finished off his opponent with a lethal sword lunge. “She won’t thank you for interfering.”

Christopher watched with a combination of admiration and terror as Rosalind twirled like a dancer in front of the confounded Vampire and finally stabbed him through the heart. The Vampire fell to his knees and Rhys administered the final blow. The thump of the Vampire’s head hitting the tiled floor sounded very loud.

Warily, Christopher looked around. Despite the fact that they were in the king’s chambers, there was no sign of any panic— of any humans, in fact. Had the Vampires thrown a magic circle around themselves?

“Where is the female Vampire?” Rhys asked as he wiped down his sword.

Christopher concentrated. “Not here anymore. Perhaps she just wanted to test our readiness to fight to protect the king.”

“Then I hope she appreciated our effort.” Rhys swiped a hand across his forehead. “I thought Elias said the other Vampires wouldn’t attack us.”

“He did,” Christopher answered, sitting up with a grunt. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about this.”

Rhys sighed. “Alas, I cannot command his presence. The blood effect only lasts for a short while.”

“A pity.” Christopher stood up and regarded Rosalind, who was also cleaning her weapons. “Are you all right, my lady?”

She looked up from her work. “Of course I am.”

“Then why am I sensing your pain?”

She glowered at him as Rhys stalked over to her. “Why did you have to say that? Rhys loves to fuss over me.”

Christopher bit his tongue from revealing just how much he would cosset her if she would only allow him to. He moved closer, his attention fixed on her right hand, which she held awkwardly against her chest. Rhys touched her elbow, and something primitive and possessive stirred in Christopher’s chest. He didn’t want Rhys near her ever again.

“Rhys, shouldn’t you take care of disposing of the bodies before someone discovers us?”

Rhys reluctantly stepped back. “I suppose I should.” He frowned at Rosalind. “Will you let Sir Christopher take care of you while I am gone?”

Rosalind stood up, her face flushed and her balance unsteady. Both men reached for her, but she stepped back, her head held high. “I do not need taking care of. I’m perfectly capable of tending my own hurts.”

Rhys met Christopher’s gaze. “I’ll leave her in your capable hands, Sir Christopher. Perhaps while I’m gone you could clean up in here and check on the king.”

“Of course.” Christopher nodded, his attention still on Rosalind, who had sat down again as if someone had chopped at her knees. “I’ll do my best.”

He made sure that the king was indeed oblivious of the commotion, and then set about restoring the darkened stairwell to rights. He even ventured into the dank-smelling laundry shack at the rear of the palace to get some cleaning cloths to wipe up the blood. As he worked to restore order, he could feel both the ebb and flow of Rosalind’s pain and the Vampire’s ghoulish satisfaction. She enjoyed games and she obviously enjoyed bloodshed even more.

When he’d finished cleaning, he went back to kneel at Rosalind’s feet and closed his fingers around her wrist. “Let me see.”

For a moment, he thought she would resist him, but she relaxed her arm and brought it down to her lap. He turned her hand over to examine her palm and the dagger slash that marred her skin. It was still bleeding sluggishly, and he frowned as he examined it.

“It’s a shallow cut. I don’t think you’ve done any permanent damage.”

“I know.” She tried to ease her hand out of his grasp.

“It still needs cleaning, my lady. Hold still.” He tipped clean water from a jug he’d secured in the washroom onto a soft cloth, then dabbed at her hand. He was as gentle as he could be, because he could feel her every twinge in his head. It was most peculiar to feel her thoughts, to share her pain, to feel how desperately she was trying to keep him out of her mind.

Rosalind looked down at the top of Christopher’s head and watched his long, elegant fingers touch her skin. She tried not to shiver. She craved his touch— wanted to throw herself on his chest and feel his arms close around her. It was a most unpleasant sensation for a woman who prided herself on her independence.

“I can do this for myself.”

“I know.” He looked up at her and she couldn’t help staring into his intense blue eyes.“You don’t need me at all. You’ve made that quite clear.”

She had to swallow hard. “You would feel the same if you’d had to fight for your right to be considered a competent slayer.”

His mouth kicked up at the corner. “I know everything there is to know about fighting for one’s place. My family distrusts me for reasons other than my sex.” He checked her hand again and ripped off a long strip of the cloth. “I’ll bind this for now. I’m sure you’ll make a far better job of it yourself when you retire to bed.”

She waited as he deftly bound her hand and tied the bandage in place. He dropped a kiss on her palm and then released it. “And I wasn’t just talking about your competence as a slayer, which is all too evident.”

Rosalind cradled her throbbing hand against her chest and looked anywhere but at Christopher. They were surrounded by the undead, the scent of blood was choking her, and underneath it all she could sense his steady unswerving presence in her head.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” she whispered.

“Making what difficult?”

“The time we spend together. Can’t you just let me be?”

He rose slowly to his feet and dropped the bloodstained cloth into the jug. His expression was icy. “I can only apologize again for my unwanted attentions, my lady. Unlike you, I cannot seem to stop caring what happens to you.”

She bit down hard on her lip until it hurt. “I don’t want you to care.”

He bowed. “So you said. Unfortunately I’m having a difficult time convincing myself to let you go.”

“I am not yours to keep or let go.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had you, though, haven’t I?”

She felt her cheeks heat and also stood up. “We agreed that we were not responsible for what happened. Why must you bring it up again?”

He scowled at her. “I agreed that our union was arranged by your gods and, for some unknown reason, the Vampire Council, who both believe we are central to this cursed prophecy. I also agreed that such a union would never be acceptable to either of our families.” He took a step toward her. “I did
not
agree that I wouldn’t be affected by it. You’re in my head now, damn it.”

She could only stare up into his face. What did he want her to say? To confess her own sense of confusion and continuing desire? What good would that do either of them?

“Christopher…” She hesitated as she heard Rhys’s familiar voice behind her. Christopher stepped away and presented her with his back as he cleaned his sword. She turned to face Rhys and his Druid companions, who began the unpleasant task of removing the bodies to the sacred stone circle, where they would stake them through the heart with silver. It was best to be thorough. A badly killed Vampire could rise again and wreak havoc on those unfortunate enough to encounter him.

The men were efficient, and Rhys and Christopher continued to clean up the hallway until not a trace of Vampire blood or their recent struggle remained. Rosalind didn’t try to help, knowing that both of the men would stop her. And she didn’t relish another fight. The physical encounter with the Vampires had worn her out. The emotional one with Christopher had been even harder.