“Is he married?”
Brigitta shook her head. At least, she assumed he wasn’t. Surely if he had a secret wife stashed somewhere she would have seen that in a vision. “It’s just not possible.”
“I see.” The old woman settled her thin frame on the log and set the earthenware pitcher in her lap. “Did you know I was the daughter of an earl? I fell in love with a sailor, and of course, everyone told us it was not possible.”
Brigitta turned to face her. “What happened?”
Granny Hargraves smiled. “We married and had five children and twenty-three grandchildren.” Her smile faded. “He passed away two years ago. His grave is not far from here. I was on my way to see him when I spotted you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No need to be. We had fifty-four wonderful years together.” Granny Hargraves lifted the pitcher. “I was taking this to his grave, so I could share it with him.”
“You were together a long time.”
“Aye.” The old woman snorted. “But looking back, it doesn’t seem long at all. Life is too short to live with regrets. And you never know what’s truly possible until you try. Is your man not worth a try?”
Brigitta sighed. “He’s worth everything I could ever give him.”
“So why are you alone?”
Brigitta’s eyes burned with tears. “I’m afraid he would never be able to love me back.”
“Ah. Well, you’ll never know if you don’t ask.” With a groan, Granny Hargraves hefted herself to her feet. “Love is a more powerful force than you think, child. You should believe in it and believe in yourself. If he’s a smart man, he will see your true worth.”
The old woman headed farther south down the beach, and Brigitta sat alone, wondering what Rupert actually thought of her. He had to know what her father had done, and he’d spoken of revenge, but he’d never directed his anger at her. That one time when she’d felt his emotions, she’d sensed desire. Yearning.
He’d been desperate to make sure he could safely touch her. I like touching you. And when she’d lamented that she came from a family of monsters, he’d said, “You’re not like them.”
She rose to her feet. Could he accept her as she was?
With a wince, she realized that even if he said it didn’t matter who her father was, it would still matter to her. She would still feel guilty. Unworthy. The true problem here was that she couldn’t accept herself. How could she bear to face him, knowing that her father had destroyed his life?
“I have to make it right,” she whispered. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing when it was her family that had started this mess. She had to get off this island and fight for Rupert. Somehow, she needed to help him regain his throne.
Words of love wouldn’t be enough. If she truly loved him, she needed to act. And it was only through her actions that she would earn his trust. And feel worthy of his love.
She squared her shoulders. “You can do this.”
Determination pounded through her with each step she took toward the village. She scanned the crowd, but couldn’t spot Rupert anywhere.
“Brigitta!” Sister Fallyn approached her, carrying a plate of food. “Come and eat. The lamb is wonderful, but the bread…” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll have to help them out in the bakery.”
“Do ye know where Rupert is?”
“Oh. He went somewhere with Stefan.” Sister Fallyn motioned to the hilly coastline on the north side of the village. “Stefan said he owns that land. They’ll return soon enough. Ye could have a bite to eat while we wait.”
Brigitta spotted a lantern far in the distance. The conversation she needed to have with Rupert was best done in private. “I’ll be back later.”
She ignored the nun’s objections that it was too dark and too chilly and hurried to the outskirts of the village. There, with the light of the stars and two moons, she could make out a narrow path that wound up into the hills.
Long grass brushed against her skirt as she climbed, following the flickering light of the lantern.
* * *
“She saw your past memories?” Stefan tripped over a clump of grass and nearly fell over.
Rupert snorted. “I reacted about the same way.” He lowered the lantern to better illuminate their path.
“Damn,” Stefan muttered. “I’ve never heard of a gift like that.”
“I know. She saw the ambush, the battle—”
“Shit. Does she know who you are?”
“I don’t know.” Rupert gritted his teeth. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, trying to figure that out. She knows her father is a monster. But I don’t know if she’s ever heard the story about my family.”
“Then you don’t know if she’s ever heard about the lost prince?”
Rupert groaned with frustration. “I can’t very well ask her.”
“No, that would make it too obvious.”
“She has a clever mind. Eventually, she’ll figure it out.”
“Then she needs to stay here, out of the way.”
Rupert scoffed. “I can’t hold her prisoner.”
“We would let her go as soon as you gain the throne.”
Rupert groaned again. “Oh, I’m sure she would appreciate that.”
Stefan stopped. “Then what do you want to do?”
Rupert’s heart clenched in his chest. He wanted the impossible.
“Have you fallen for her?”
Yes. “I can’t possibly trust her.” He quickened his pace.
Stefan trailed behind. “Maybe you should reconsider Ansel’s suggestion. Deliver her to her brother already pregnant.”
“No,” Rupert growled as he whipped around. “I will not abuse her for my own gain. And I will not endanger her. Have you considered how her bastard brother might react if she showed up pregnant by a pirate? He could punish her or torture her until she lost the child. Hell, he might forgo the competition altogether and let his favorites rape her.”
Stefan winced. “You have a point. Then there’s nothing we can do but leave her here.”
With a sigh, Rupert resumed his walk along the path. He felt like a complete ass. Brigitta believed she had decided her own fate, but he’d knowingly steered her toward exile on this island. Dammit. He’d just wanted to keep her safe. But now that he knew how dangerous her gift was, her exile seemed more geared toward keeping himself safe.
No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was using her. If only he could tell her the truth. If only he could trust her.
He could wait until he regained the throne to tell her who he really was, but by then she probably would have figured it out. Even if she hadn’t, she would hear the news that the lost prince Ulfrid had returned. And then she would know that he hadn’t trusted her. She would know that he had waited until she was no longer a threat before revealing the truth.
It was cowardly. Unworthy. How could she ever love him if he treated her like that?
Dammit, he wanted her to love him. But did he want it enough to risk losing the throne? Or jeopardizing his plan for revenge?
The path veered left toward the coast, and Rupert quickened his pace.
“I’ve decided to marry,” Stefan announced.
“What?” Rupert glanced back. “You courted a nun that quickly?”
Stefan shot him an annoyed look. “All I can do is propose. It would be her decision whether she can accept me.”
Rupert nodded. “Then I’ll wish you luck.”
“I came to pick out a ring for her.”
Rupert snorted. They were headed to the secret cave where they hid most of the gold and jewels taken from Gunther’s naval ships. “I’m not sure she’ll appreciate a stolen ring.”
“Well, I could buy her one, but I’d be using stolen gold to pay for it, so what’s the difference?”
Rupert shrugged. He didn’t actually consider the gold stolen, not when the mines had originally belonged to his family. It was the House of Grian tha
t was stealing the gold, and he was simply taking back what was rightfully his.
They reached the cliff. The ocean before them was a black pit with only a glimmer here and there where the stars were reflected on the dark surface. Waves crashed on the rocks below. To their right, a narrow path descended sharply to the beach. Rupert took the lead on the narrow trail. One false step here and he would plummet to the rocks below.
“Are you picking up a trinket for Brigitta?” Stefan asked.
“I hadn’t planned to.” Rupert frowned. Somehow he didn’t think a string of pearls was going to make it any easier to talk to Brigitta. Especially when he didn’t know what to say. “I’m going to the grotto for a swim. I need to think.”
* * *
The lantern was gone.
Brigitta stopped in dismay as it flickered out of view. What should she do now? She glanced back at the village. The fire on the beach and all the lanterns served as a beacon that would easily guide her back. But she’d come too far to give up.
She narrowed her eyes on the last spot where she’d seen the lantern. Nothing but darkness. Close by, the moonlight gleamed off the tall grass, painting it silver. The path was easy enough to detect, since it made a trail of black cutting through the grass. She moved forward slowly, for the ground would slope up, then suddenly dip without warning.
Behind her, the village grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, the land leveled out, and she realized she was on top of a plateau. The wind was much stronger here, and it whipped at her skirt and loosened her hair from its braid.
She slowed down even more as the path veered toward the coast. The sound of the ocean grew louder, and her heart pounded faster. In the dark, it would be hard to see where the land ended and the sea began.
The grass became shorter, the wind stronger. She crouched down to feel the path in front of her.
Rocks. She’d reached a cliff. To the right, she spotted a light down on the beach. It wasn’t bright, but between it and the moonlight, she could see the golden sand of the path leading down to the shore. She eased down the trail, keeping her shoulder pressed against the rock wall to her right. When a series of steps began, she sat and eased herself down on her rump.
The beach. She exhaled with relief as she stood on the narrow strip of sand between the cliff and the ocean. The light seemed to be coming from a cave.
She peeked inside. Several torches had been lit, illuminating a wide, rocky tunnel. No one in sight.
“Hello?” she called softly. No answer. But she could see boot prints in the sand. Rupert and Stefan had to be here somewhere.
She slipped inside. The walls of the cave shot straight up so high she couldn’t see the top. A narrow stream meandered toward the cave entrance. The water seemed to be trickling out to sea, although she assumed there were times when the sea would roll into the cave.
She gulped. Surely it was safe at the moment. Rupert and Stefan wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.
A crunching noise sounded in the distance. Footsteps.
She whirled around, wondering if she should hide. But she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Was she?
Stefan came around a bend, holding a brass candlestick with a lit candle. “My lady? What are you doing here?”
“I-I came to see Rupert.” She brushed back some tendrils of hair that the wind had whipped free from her braid. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
Stefan gave her an incredulous look. “How did you get here?”
“I could see your lantern in the distance.”
“Do you know how dangerous it is to be close to the cliffs at night? And this entire area is riddled with caves. The ground above us isn’t safe. There are holes in the surface where you can fall into a cave and break your neck.”
“I didn’t realize…”
He scoffed. “The villagers know it’s not safe. They should have stopped you.” He stuffed a ruby ring in his pocket. “I’ll take you back to the village.”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not leaving until I see Rupert. It’s important.”
Stefan hesitated. “I suppose you two have some talking to do.” He gave her a stern look. “You’ll have to follow my directions carefully. One wrong turn and you could be lost in the tunnels forever and never found.”
She gulped. “I understand.”
He motioned with his candle. “You see this path that goes along the stream? If you follow it, you’ll reach the grotto.”
Grotto? “Is that where Rupert is?”
“Yes. Here.” Stefan handed her the candlestick holder. “I’ll take one of the torches back to the village.”
“Thank you.”
Stefan removed a torch from a bracket on the rock wall. “Don’t venture off the path. Even if you see another one, don’t take it. Follow the stream till you reach the grotto.”
“I understand.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Good evening, then.” He inclined his head and strode through the entrance of the cave.
She was alone. Brigitta steeled her nerves. Lost in tunnels forever? But it seemed simple enough if all she had to do was follow the stream.
Slowly, she walked deeper into the cave, making sure the stream was always to her left. The sand gave way to gravel, and the cave grew more narrow. As she went around a bend, it became much darker. The torchlight at the cave’s entrance was no longer visible.
The light flickered on her candle, and with a wince, she cupped a hand around the flame. If it went out, she’d be surrounded by darkness. It was odd, though, that the breeze seemed to be going toward the sea. Perhaps the wind was coming from those holes in the ground that Stefan had mentioned.
After a while, she heard the tinkling sound of running water. As she rounded a curve, she saw where a pile of rocks had dammed up the stream. A small waterfall was slipping over the rocks, but behind it, there was a pool of water. And more light in the distance.
Was that the grotto? She started toward it, then noticed another path that veered off to the right. A series of stone steps leading up to another room.
Don’t venture off the path, Stefan had warned her. She could get lost. But surely, as long as she could retrace her steps to the stream, she would be all right. Her insatiable curiosity poked at her. The room was close by. What would be the harm of a little peek?
She climbed the short flight of stone steps and peered into the cave room. It was long and narrow. She crept forward a few feet, then stopped with a jerk as something flickered into view.
A trunk. A long line of trunks. She opened the first one and gasped. It was full of gold coins! The next one had even more gold coins. The next one was filled with sparkling jewels—rings and necklaces made of precious stones and pearls. She lifted the candlestick high and spotted more trunks against the other wall. Holy goddesses, she’d discovered the secret place where Rupert hid his horde of treasure.
No wonder Stefan had warned her not to take this path. No wonder Rupert only allowed those he trusted to know that this island existed.
She peered at the far end of the room, wondering how far it went and how many more trunks there could be. Was she just imagining it, or was there a dim light at the end of the room? She eased toward it and realized the floor was sloping slowly downward. The room suddenly ended with a rock wall, but to her left, there was a narrow opening. And that was where the light was filtering through.
She peered outside and gasped. Holy goddesses, this was the grotto! A cavernous room stretched out before her, big enough to fit a three-story house inside. Below her, a large pool of water shimmered in the moonlight. She glanced up and saw a ragged hole way up in the ceiling. Long trails of ivy dangled from the hole, and stars twinkled in the sky.
It was breathtaking. She stood still for a moment to admire the view. A lantern was sitting on a flat rock that jutted out over the pool. The rock walls were green with moss and clumps of ferns. To the right, there appeared to be a hole in the wall, a sheltered ledge. Inside she could see a pile of
furs and blankets. Did Rupert sleep there? In front of the ledge, a rope ladder descended into the pool of water.
She heard a splash of water. Was Rupert in the pool? It was a tight fit, but she managed to slip through the narrow opening. A steep path led straight down to a narrow strip of sandy beach.
Another splash.
She scanned the water and spotted Rupert swimming toward the ladder. If she followed the sandy path around the pool, she could meet him close to the ladder. She eased down the path, wincing as her feet skidded a few inches in the loose gravel.
Rupert reached the ladder, then turned to dive underwater, flashing a naked rump in the moonlight.
What? The candlestick holder tumbled from her hand. As she made a grab for it, her feet slid out from beneath her. With a squeal, she skidded down the steep incline. Bam. She hit the beach hard and fell forward onto her knees, her hands and face splashing into the water.
“Brigitta!”
She sat up, sputtering as she pushed wet hair out of her face.
“Brigitta, what are you doing here?” he yelled in Tourinian.
“I—” The water had been surprisingly warm. She blinked as she spotted him coming toward her. “Wait!”
He paused with the water up to his navel. “Are you all right? How did you get here?”
“I … walked.” She scrambled to her feet and dried her wet hands on her skirt. “I saw Stefan at the cave entrance, and he said you were here.”
Rupert scoffed. “What the hell was he thinking? He should have walked you back to the village.”
“I told him I had to talk to you. So he said it was all right…”
“It’s not all right! Dammit.” He turned around in the water while dragging a hand through his wet hair. Water sluiced down his broad back, meandering over the bulges of his muscles.
Her heart lurched, and she nearly fell back onto her knees.
He faced her once again. “Are you all right? Did you trip on something?”
“I’m fine.” Her knees stung, but she wasn’t about to lift her skirt to take a look at them.
His eyes narrowed. “You took the path along the stream, right?”