Part 23 (1/2)
He didn't answer, but gestured to her valise, still unpacked upon the narrow bed. ”Bring your things. I'll take you to them.”
”Now?”
He raised his brows. She felt silly. Midnight was not an imposition to vampires. Now he was going to try to leave her with them while he went off and...
But he couldn't, if Rufford didn't know where the temple was. Only she could make the stones point the way. Had he thought of that? She wouldn't break it to him yet.
She grabbed her valise. ”How long will it take to get a caravan together?” That's what one did, wasn't it? She imagined a long line of camels marching into the burning sun. Sun! How would Gian travel in a caravan?
”Mrs. Rufford will know.”
Mrs. Rufford?
He must have seen her look of skepticism. ”She's been arranging expeditions since she was fifteen.”
The villa was walled in thick sandstone brick plastered and whitewashed. It glowed in the moonlight. Gian pounded on the thick wooden door.
”There is a bell,” she pointed out.
He shot her a look of exasperation. ”My fist will work just fine.” He was right. The door opened and a tall man in a striped burnoose and skullcap asked them their business. Kate kept her head down to conceal her scar. The servant led them into a most remarkable room. Its floor was tiled and in the center a beautiful fountain covered with brightly glazed tiles tinkled under a square opening direct to the night sky. Banquettes lined the walls and pillows were strewn about in comfortable disarray. Lamps cast a warm light over everything.
The room was filled with the scent of cinnamon and that something else, and vibrating energy, some very high, at the edge of consciousness, and some slower, methodical almost.
A brawny man sat at a writing desk, his quill scribbling across foolscap at a furious pace. His hair was sandy brown and too long for fas.h.i.+on, pulled back in a ribbon at his neck. His face was bold, his chin strong. Kate would bet his coat had been made by Weston, his boots by Hoby. Matthew had trained her to look for the work of the best tailors and bootmakers.
At his feet, in the midst of piles of very old books, curled the dainty figure of one of the most striking women Kate had ever seen. Her hair was dark, coiled in intricate braids around her head. But curls escaped and framed a graceful neck. Her skin was the color of coffee with lots of cream in it. She wore native garments in a lovely pale green embroidered with gold. Her sleeves brushed her palms and a translucent wrap of the same color looped round her and fastened at the crown of her head. Meant to be drawn across her face in public, it hung open now.
As the servants announced them, Kate braced herself for the look of pity when they saw her scar. They both rose, and Kate saw that the woman's eyes were an amazing color somewhere between green and gold that put her dress to shame. She felt their glances register the scar, who could not? But there was more of curiosity than pity or shock in their eyes. Maybe it took a lot to shock a vampire. Then their gazes both moved to Gian, and their faces lit with pleasure.”Urbano,” the man said, striding forward and holding out his hand. ”What the h.e.l.l are you doing in these parts?”
”I am glad to find you in residence, Rufford. I have a mission most urgent.”
”Well, sit down.” He waved to the servant. ”Tea, Abdullah, if you please.”
Kate had eyes only for the woman. She had blanched, and was looking positively ill. Still she gathered herself and came forward, managing a genuine smile.
”Gian, you are a welcome sight.”
Gian bent and she planted a delicate kiss on each of his cheeks. She was English too, by her accent. She didn't look English. But she didn't look like the local women Kate had seen in the streets either. As Gian let her go, she put a hand to her throat, apparently trying to catch her breath. Gian and her husband didn't seem to notice.
”Let me introduce Miss Sheridan. Miss Sheridan, Ian Rufford and Mrs. Rufford.” He did not explain what Kate was doing there in his company. She could feel the two owners of this lovely house wondering. They must know him to be a notorious rake. Or maybe they only wondered why Gian Urbano was in the company of such a disfigured woman when he could have had any woman he wanted. She flushed.
Rufford bowed crisply. Mrs. Rufford took her arm. The woman was trembling. ”Please, we are so far... from the stuffiness of, of English drawing rooms. Please call... call me Beth.”
Kate smiled. ”Thank goodness. I never liked those drawing rooms. Then you must call me Kate.” Up close, those green-gold eyes were even more startling, fringed by dark lashes. She led Kate to a banquette, but in truth Kate was half supporting her as she clung to Kate's arm. Gian was busy telling Rufford about the loss of the mast. ”Are you well?” Kate whispered.
”I can't think what's come over me,” the woman murmured, sinking. ”I feel so strange.”
”Can I ask your husband to call for something, a vinaigrette perhaps?”
She shook her head. ”I'm sure it will pa.s.s.” But all the color had drained from her face.
”We've come for help, Rufford,” Gian said. ”We're headed for the Temple of Waiting.”
”Dangerous place.” Rufford pulled at his loosely tied cravat as though he was too warm.
”Elyta Zaroff has acquired two stones from the fountain.”
Rufford and his wife did not seem surprised. ”I heard that they were out and about, or one at least. I thought when Rubius sent you after them that you were just the man for the job.”
”I've got them. I'm returning them to the temple.” He patted his coat pocket.
”I thought the Elders wanted them at Mirso.” Rufford didn't judge. He just said it.
”Yes, well.” Gian cleared his throat. ”They can't fall into the wrong hands. Even if those hands are at Mirso. They're safer at the temple.”
Rufford examined him then nodded once. ”If you say so, I agree. Who would not trust the man who held Algiers against all odds? And I owe you for the rescue in Casablanca.”
”Which three of you had held for a month,” Gian noted. Rufford waved a hand in dismissal of his own bravery. ”Besides, there were many of us who came to break the siege.”
”But you organized the whole,” Rufford insisted. ”Saved Fedeyah's and Davie Ware's hide as well as mine. And Davie's new wife too.” Then he sighed. ”Rough times.”
Kate watched a shadow cross Gian's face. With an effort he shook off the memories she had seen haunting him from the very first time she saw him.
”Elyta wants to drive members of the government mad and take over France,” he continued. ”The sooner these stones are back where they belong the better.”
”Two problems,” Rufford said. He got up to pace. He seemed an active man for one so brawny. ”One, the temple is covered in a million tons of sand. Two, I don't think we could find the place anymore. We never knew the exact longitude and lat.i.tude. The landmarks are now obliterated. What do you think, Beth?” Rufford's brows drew together. ”Beth?”
”I'm fine,” the lady said, and promptly fainted.
”Beth!” Rufford threw himself down at her side, chafing her hand. ”What's wrong?” he asked, his eyes wild.
Beth couldn't answer so Kate stepped into the breach. ”She hasn't been feeling well since we came in.”
”She's usually as strong as any five men,” Rufford said, lifting her into his arms. He didn't realize, in his distraction, that his wife might not like that comparison.
”Was she well before we came in?” Gian's eyes darted about the room as he thought.
”Yes, yes.” Rufford made for the door, his wife in his arms. But he stopped and turned. ”I can't summon a doctor. He wouldn't know what to make of her.”
Kate cleared her throat. There was one possible explanation. ”Could she be... expecting?”
”Unlikely,” Gian said shortly. ”It is almost impossible for our kind to have children.”
That was news, since he had a mother.
”Still,” Rufford said, ”I was made only five years ago, and I made her a year later. When we are young there is a better chance.
It is conceivable.” He didn't look unhappy that she might be pregnant. In fact he gazed down at his wife and smiled. These two were obviously in love. Somehow he had made her vampire by accident. He couldn't have meant to do it. Yet they had no air of tragic figures. Did they not consider it a tragedy?
Gian barked a laugh. ”Conceivable? So to speak.” Then he too grew thoughtful. ”You have the blood of an Old One in you, rumors have it.”