While he watched, Daphne moved to the third bookcase. She paused when she reached the second shelf and the works of Homer—
The Iliad
and
The Odyssey
.
“This certainly is an odyssey,” she murmured as she fingered the title.
Richard leaned back against the library door. “But are you as brave as Odysseus?” he asked in a low voice.
Daphne froze.
He could only wonder if his voice haunted her days, her dreams, as hers did his.
Slowly Daphne lowered her hand and turned to face Richard. “The Cyclops speaks?”
Richard heard the tremor in her voice. “Not a Cyclops nor an
enemy
. But you cannot rid yourself of me with a wooden stake,” he told her. Richard took measured strides to the centre of the room.
“What about through the heart rather than the eye?” Daphne asked. “The heart is recommended for a vampire. You know the kind. One who sucks the life blood out of others.”
“Vampire or not, my life would be at end with such treatment,” Richard said. He sauntered toward her; halted an arm’s length away.
From the library doorway Lord Ricman and Lady Laurel eagerly watched the pair.
“We have to do something,” Lady Laurel told her husband.
He rolled his eyes but raised his hand with a flourish. Laurel leaves skittered silently around Richard and Daphne’s feet
.
“Which is it you wish? My life? Or the Dremore Treasure? Both?” As the silence lengthened Richard shifted his weight. “Is the choice so difficult, Miss Stratton?” He fisted his hand at his side.
Daphne finally met his gaze.
Richard saw the pulse in her throat leap. His mouth went dry at the realization of how important her answer was to him. Unable to wait, Richard advanced another step. He reached out and caressed Daphne’s cheek, fingered a strand of hair that had sprung free.
“I do not seek your life,” she said, breathless.
He breathed in her lavender scent. Unbidden came the thought,
If I could kiss her
. Even more strongly,
Taste her
.
Heat flooded Daphne’s cheeks as his gaze caressed her.
“
Why won’t he admit he loves her,” Lady Laurel said at Richard’s side. “Must men always be so—so thick headed.”
“She is no better,” Lord Ricman answered, piqued. “We should let them sort it out alone
.”
Warmth coursed through him, settled in his loins. He swallowed hard watching her gaze alter. The warmth in it stroked the fire within him. “Daphne,” he whispered. Richard moved his hand to her neck, and gently brought her towards him. Conscious thought stalled; his heart stammered. Spoke.
Triumph filled him when Daphne began to lean towards him.
“Daphne.” Her name escaped Richard. It broke the last thread of carefully husbanded restraint.
When Daphne raised a hand to touch his face he caught her fingers fast in his. Blood thrummed in his veins.
“Richard,” Daphne sighed and opened her eyes.
Inches separated them. Richard knew they shared a special connection. He had dreamed of holding her in his arms every night since their encounter in the tomb.
Warmth flared in her eyes as Richard gazed into them. He read longing; saw acceptance. And then Daphne leaned forward as if anxious for the touch of his lips, his taste.
“I think they finally have the hang of it. Let us leave them,” Lady Laurel told her husband. When he didn’t move to follow, she tugged on his doublet. “We have the ‘matter’ outside to manage.”
“Oh? Aye,” Lord Ricman agreed and hurried out with her
.
Richard had contemplated the effects of that kiss in the mausoleum too oft. This need to taste her, to hold her stirred need. His kiss was not gentle. It demanded a response.
When Daphne tried to pull away, Richard deepened the kiss and drew the hand he held to his chest. The accidental brush across her breast increased his desire. Then Daphne arched against him as if she too sought greater contact.
Her surrender brought him back to reality. Richard abruptly released her and took a step back. Chagrin rode Richard hard, showed on his features. Had he gone mad? How could he let desire override reason? He saw Daphne’s reddened swollen lips. He had ridden roughshod over decency. Seeing her eyes widen in question, Richard, appalled at his behaviour, slammed up a shield and shuttered his emotions behind it.
All warmth vanished from Daphne’s eyes. Confusion filled them and then turned to dismay as he watched. Despite the swirl of emotions riding him, Richard was proud of her when Daphne straightened her shoulders. Her question sobered, startled, stung him.
“Why do you seek my brother’s ruin—our ruin?” she whispered.
“Ruin? Why would I?”
“Because I mimicked your mother.”
Richard studied her closely. The truth his mother had imparted, that Daphne had attempted to explain, became clear to him as he gazed in her sorrow filled eyes. “I have never sought to ruin anyone. Ever,” he said simply.
“But you gambled with him and have won large amounts.”
Running a hand through his hair, Richard gritted his teeth, then decided only the truth would do. “The last was an attempt to let him win. I don’t know how it went so wrong.”
“Win? But Mr. Blanchard said—”
“Eldridge told you I led your brother to gamble so deep?” he demanded. “That rotter,” he mumbled. Richard saw her look and put up a hand. “Wait, I know how this must look.” Inspiration struck.
Why have I been blind for so long?
“Think back to the house party at Heart Haven,” Richard urged. “That eve did you take your drinks from a servant’s tray or did another guest hand them to you?”
Daphne took a step back from his intensity as she mulled over the question. “I believe Mr. Blanchard brought them to me. Yes, he was very solicitous that evening,” she said then frowned. Realization dawned. “Yes, he urged me to take more than I liked.”
“Damme the man,” Richard swore. He went to Daphne and took her hand. “You told the truth all along.”
“Your cousin gave me drinks laced with, what did your mother call it—vodka?”
He saw belief, certainty in her gaze even as she asked, “But why would he do that?”
“It’s not a pretty truth on either side, but Blanchard and I dislike each other rather heartily.”
“Surely not enough for him to wish to embarrass Lady Dremore? Why would he wish to discredit me?”
“He has always resented not being the heir,” Richard said with a wry grimace. “I must have betrayed my, em, interest in you.”
Anger and hope quickly followed by dismay washed across Daphne’s features. “I must apologize again, my lord, for believing—”
The stiffness in her words appalled Richard. “Indeed not. If my cousin has wrought harm I am the one who must make amends.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
Daphne slowly drew her hand free; seemed to draw away from him. He followed her gaze to the books she had left off searching what now seemed a lifetime ago.
“Tell me the worst of it. I will set everything aright,” he blurted.
Objection and stubbornness glinted in Daphne’s eyes. “The treasure would set everything aright,” she said.
“There is no treasure.”
“Then you cannot care if I continue the search for it.”
Richard tried to follow Daphne’s reasoning but could make no sense of her fixation on the treasure. Deciding it best to humour her he bowed. “As you wish.”
“You agree that the treasure will go to the one who finds it?” she asked. “All’s fair in love and treasure?”
With a condescending smile, Richard nodded. “To the winner go the spoils,” he offered.
“All is fair in love and treasure,” Daphne repeated.
“My thought exactly,” Richard said and stepped to take her in his arms.
Daphne sidestepped him. “
That chamber has the tale to tell—Of feast grand and laurel plenty—With fair discourse the evening so they passed—Through thrice twice by Calibis Sea
,” she recited.
Acquiescing to her strange humour, Richard smiled. “You do have a prodigious memory,” he mused. “I told Gunby so.”
“This chamber,” Daphne motioned about the room, “has
tales
to tell.”
Richard remained silent. He watched Daphne trace the carving on the wood framing the bookcase. “Laurel leaves,” she said.
“In abundance,” Richard replied shortly.
She arched a brow. “You’ve searched?”
“I found nothing,” he replied.
“Did you take into account that Calabis is a river not a sea? That it lies in the Aegean area?”
His respect for Daphne’s intelligence grew. “Yes,” Richard said slowly. He frowned in concentration, and then walked up to the bookcase.
”What do you mean to do?”
“Calibis River? Yes.” Richard reached for a book on the geography of the ancient Grecian world and pulled it so it stood a couple of inches further out than the rest.
“Thrice twice,” Richard said, his hand posed close to the last book on the shelf. “Now does it mean across or down?”
“We have to check all the books in this section,” Daphne said.
Richard hated crushing her eagerness. “Already did that.”
Daphne shook her head. “Thrice twice. That is six.”
Understanding her meaning, Richard counted six books to the left of the geographical book and removed the last. He handed it to Daphne. “Examine it.”
While she stared at him, he counted to the right and removed the sixth book.
Richard watched Daphne eagerly paged through her book. Anticipation drove him to also turn pages. Sudden silence told Richard when she had also stopped turning pages. He raised his gaze to hers and saw the same triumph he knew was in his.
“I have found—” she began and Richard echoed in unison.
“A part of it?” Daphne asked.
“Half,” Richard told her.
They moved shoulder to shoulder and looked at the open book in each other’s hands.
Daphne read, “
Mightie conqueror needeth laurel true;
And poet’s sage; the willow worn of forlorn paramour;
Wander and weepth still amidst ancestral plain
.” She looked to Richard.
Circle three by path beaten err find rod and bar;
Where monster most dreadful defies the way;
Winged arrow soars to answers bestow
,” he read from the loose parchment in the book he held.
“
Mighty conqueror needeth laurel true
?” quoted Daphne. Perplexed dismay filled her voice.
“’Tis a puzzlement,” Richard agreed. “What about the
sage
? Is its meaning herb or wise man?” He shook his head, then gestured to the east end of the library.
Relief flowed through him when Daphne followed Richard to a table there. He laid his half of the verse on it. When she hesitated, he pulled out one of the chairs for her. “We accomplish so much more when we work together. Do you not recall
harmony
mentioned in the first verse?”
When she pursed her lips Richard thought to kiss them but roughly restrained the impulse.
Do not be daft. Tread lightly for a time even if she has bewitched you
.
He watched Daphne study him. He saw the battle waged whether or not to trust him. Then she straightened decisively.
Daphne slowly laid her piece of parchment on the table. She allowed him to seat her. Her feminine scent soothed the hurt. He knew that though many women wore lavender perfume he would always be able to distinguish it from any other.
A memory from the night of the Mortomor soirée smote him. It took a moment for him to confront it. Blanchard and Daphne. Putting it aside for another time, he sat in the chair next to hers.
“What if we are successful, my lord?” Daphne asked.
Is she in league with my cousin who has always been mad for the treasure
? came unbidden. He shrugged it away.
There is no treasure
, Richard reminded himself.
“Would an equal share satisfy you if we find it together?” He saw the surprise in her eyes but wondered why they narrowed as if studying him intently.
“By all means, my lord,” Daphne said. “Then if found by one working alone the entire treasure would be that persons?”
What is she about
? he wondered.
The treasure is a myth
. He nodded.
“Let us get to work,” Daphne said. “What do you make of this verse?”
Richard leaned closer. His arm touched hers as he read the lines before them. When she edged away Richard smiled inwardly. He wasn’t the only one affected by the magnetism that drew him.
“Do you know if the first Lord Dremore had a paramour?”
“What are you thinking?” Richard saw a flare of desire flicker in her eyes that he was certain matched his.
A heartbeat later Daphne said, “If one of them had a lover, perhaps the paramour’s estate is where the treasure is. That seems the most logical place to start unless you know
where a monster defies any who seek the treasure
.”
“What about the ancestral plain? Wait. Might it not provide confirmation that we are headed the right direction?”
“Yes,” Daphne agreed, her eyes glowing. “The
rod and bar
might be a fence.”
“The
bar
a gate,” Richard added.
Their gazes met, held.
Richard knew his mirrored the struggle he saw in Daphne‘s eyes. He found it as difficult to resist the strange attraction that connected them as she seemed to.
“Perhaps we need to share this with your mother,” Daphne said hesitantly. “She knows the full story of the first Dremores. Might it make more sense to her?” she asked and stood.
“May I have your half of the verse?”
“If, on your honour, you shall return it and tell me what she recalls.”
“You have my word,” he said stiffly, too aware she could well disbelieve him.
Daphne nodded acceptance.
Going to the chair by the bookcase Richard picked up her cloak and bonnet. He handed her the hat and after she had fastened its tie, held the cloak for her. “Shall I escort you home?”