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.“His wife.”“Does she have valuable information?”“Probably not, but what does that matter? Bittor can make her confess to anything.”“Let’s do that.I’m in the mood to get my hands dirty.” Prince Sandre spurred his horse up to the road toward the palace.Jean-Pierre followed, his grin flashing—it was good to see Prince Sandre up to his old tricks.At the sight, the Moricadians recoiled in fear.Chapter NineteenRaul heard voices.Victoria’s.Thompson’s.A thump.A curse in Moricadian.Prospero.Another thump.Another curse, more vicious this time, and Thompson’s reproving tone.Then tapping, a constant, annoying tapping.Without opening his eyes, Raul judged that he had been asleep two or three hours, that Victoria was doing something meant to torment him, and that he didn’t care.Whatever it was, it could wait.He needed another three hours’ sleep, and nothing less than the start of the revolution would interrupt him.Then he slid back into his dreams.When he woke again, the room was so quiet his first thought was that Victoria had escaped.Then he opened his eyes, and knew she had not.Because she had made changes throughout the room.She had taken a long iron pole—it had a spike on one end, so it was a lance of some kind—and hung it over the window by iron hooks driven into the mortar.On it she had placed a moth-eaten blanket, pulled to one side and secured with another hook and a rope.Curtains.Curtains hung over the window.Why, he didn’t know.This castle sat atop a rocky crag in the middle of the forest, and this room sat in the top tower of the castle.They were up so high not even the eagles could gaze in to watch her undress, yet nevertheless.And on the floor.From somewhere she’d unearthed a carpet woven, by the looks of it, in medieval Spain.Actually, except for the worn edges and faded colors, it didn’t look bad.Where had she found it? In the attic? In the dungeons? Could no one control her wanderings?Silly question.He sat up—and grinned.Never mind the curtains.Never mind the carpet.There it was, the cause of the thumping.the short sofa had been replaced by a sofa long enough for Victoria to comfortably stretch out and sleep.It was both a statement to the residents of the castle and a challenge to him.He was up for the challenge—noticeably and inconveniently up, considering Victoria was nowhere in sight, and also unwilling.But soon she would be willing, and then.Tossing back the covers, he dressed and went in search of his guest.Went hunting his guest.Hanging over the rail on the landing over the great hall, he scanned the downturned faces.Thompson sat at one of the long side tables, his accounting spread out before him.Hada, his housekeeper, inspected the spoons, slapping the ones not clean enough to meet her approval to the side, and occasionally speaking sharply to the three girls who swept and dusted and cleaned the glass chimneys on the lamps.At this time of day, the population of the castle was slight, yet nowhere among his dark-haired kin and help was that one golden head.Damn the woman.Where was she?He strode down the stairs, irritated and, more than that, worried.He would not be a fool about Victoria; she was too intelligent for a woman, and he didn’t underestimate her ability to slip away or, more likely, charm her way out of the castle.And then.there was peril in that forest unlike any she could imagine.Thompson rose to greet him.“Sir, I apologize for the earlier disturbance, but—”“I know exactly whom to blame.Where is Miss Cardiff?”“She’s in the kitchen with the children.”Raul stared at him, narrow eyed.“With the children,” he repeated.“The children are teaching her Moricadian, and she’s teaching them English.among other languages.”“I see.” Raul’s irritation rose.“And are we trusting the children to guard Miss Cardiff?”“She has access to only two exits, one into the great hall”—Thompson indicated the stairway that led down to the kitchen—“and one that leads into the courtyard, where the men are practicing their bowmanship.I felt as if both of those circumstances would deter Miss Cardiff from escape.” His cool tone never changed, but Raul didn’t make the mistake of thinking he was pleased.“You’re right.I apologize.” Raul realized he had been indeed foolish; Thompson was the antithesis of irresponsible, and it was he who had first suggested Victoria should be acquired for the purpose of curbing her tongue.“Of course, sir.” Thompson was not so easily appeased.“Amya’s with her, too.” Hada had made no bones about eavesdropping on the conversation.“Not that Miss Cardiff is too fond of Amya right now.”“Amya?” Raul thought.“The maid from the hotel? The one who reported Miss Cardiff’s faux pas?”“That’s the one.She’s not good for much except being a lady’s maid, so I put her to work for Miss Cardiff.But apparently Miss Cardiff is carrying a grudge.” Hada scowled at a spoon and slapped it on the table with the others.“When she saw her, she was not happy.”Raul lifted his brows in surprise.“Miss Cardiff was rude?”“Damn, no.She was so polite, she almost gave Amya frostbite.” Hada chuckled.“Scared the poor timid scrap of a thing to death.”Raul grinned.“Yes, I can see her doing that.”A young, fragile-looking woman, Hada walked with a limp so extreme Raul had had a special shoe built to give height to her left side.But for all her apparent frailty, she ruled the household and all the women who worked in it.As her husband said, Hada has a fearsome way with words.Prospero was right, and no one challenged Hada with impunity.“The men are out in the field?” Raul asked.Hada snorted.“At last.After sleeping like babies and snoring like great, fat bears.”Raul grinned at her.“Celebrated when they returned, did they?”“Yes, my liege.For hours.” Hada looked weary.“You’d think they’d brought the House of de Guignard down, rather than prodding it with a sharp stick.”“It’s a start.” Raul proceeded down the stairs to the kitchen, where the newly installed iron stove glowed red, the cook swore at his two minions, and Victoria Cardiff sat at the end of the long servants’ table, Amya standing at her right shoulder, a dozen children at her feet.Raul paused in the shadows, observing Victoria hungrily.She wore a different dress, brown wool, clean and ironed
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Christine Feehan Mroczna Seri Mroczny Demon