Rowena's Key Page 7

  Visions of their time together ran like a non-stop movie through her mind—Caedmon’s smile, the desire in his gaze, the profound anguish darkening his brow when she spoke of her parents. No one could fake compassion like that. At least, no one she’d ever met.

  But, above all, the one thing she couldn’t explain was the intense connection she experienced whenever she met his hand on the glass. In those fleeting moments, the distance between them disappeared. The years separating their worlds melted away. And the earnest conviction tempering Caedmon’s voice told her he would never betray her, even at the risk of causing himself harm.

  How could she not believe him to be exactly who he said he was, when every fiber of her being screamed he was telling her the truth?

  She filled her lungs and expelled a frustrated breath. Regardless, one thing was certain. He’d seemed just as shocked to discover his armoire was an exact match to the one in her bedroom. Her same surprise had crossed his face when she confessed she’d found the key hidden inside the—

  Her feet stumbled to a dead stop at the base of the concrete steps leading to her front door. Wait a second…

  If today’s media coverage proved anything, pretty much everyone in the world knew she had the key. Her discovery was no longer secret, and anyone who carted around half a brain had figured out how to get in touch with her. Not that doing so was difficult. The shop’s address and phone number could be easily found on the internet.

  Which meant one thing.

  She looked up and located the row of windows to her second-story condo. Inside, a soft, yellow light flickered against her bedroom ceiling.

  A person with the smarts and abundant resources to create an authentic portrayal of another time and place would never have to go to such lengths to get her attention. A person like that had all the money they needed to meet her in person and outright purchase the key.

  Well, for the sweet love of Zeus!

  Rowena slapped a hand to her forehead as the ground teetered dangerously beneath her feet. Euphoric laughter bubbled up her throat. My God, he’d been telling her the truth! If Caedmon was in her world, why not just show up on her doorstep like everyone else? Because he couldn’t, that’s why. He was stuck on his side of the mirror, in his time, just like she was stuck on hers. He’d never had access to the armoire in her bedroom because he truly was from another realm.

  All this time, Prince Caedmon Austiere was exactly who he said he was. He was her prince. He belonged to her.

  “Whoo hoo!” She tossed a fist high into the air and danced around the sidewalk. Yes! Yes! This was the exact proof she’d been searching for all along…and what the hell was she doing celebrating out here?

  Clasping the wide cement handrail, she pounded up the steps, yanked open the front door and raced the stairs two at a time to her floor. Another giddy laugh erupted as she tossed her coat on the couch and hurried down the hall to her bedroom. Only a few more moments and they would be together. She could listen to the story of his day, bask in the excitement in his voice when he related the details of how he’d snuck past the guard. Hopefully their plan had gone off without a hitch. God, she couldn’t wait to find out!

  She flicked on the bedroom light and strode toward the armoire, having returned the mirror to the back of the door for safekeeping.

  An opening swing of the handle, and she froze.

  The glass was muted, as if someone had draped a sheer, black scarf over the frame. And the angle was off, like the mirror had been moved to an adjacent wall. Yet the inside of Caedmon’s bedroom was still visible, and her stomach seized so hard at the revolting scene, she choked and then gagged.

  Two people. One female. Her bare backside balanced on the end of the bed. Naked legs wrapped around Caedmon’s waist. His back faced the mirror, leather pants riding low on his thighs. His buttocks clenched, the jerk and thrust of his hips driving into the woman with increasing speed.

  Rowena slammed the door. She’d seen more than enough. She blinked back a set of tears and spun away from the armoire. Caedmon wouldn’t do this to her. Dammit, how could he do this to her! The hinges creaked and, like a sadistic nightmare, the armoire door slowly swung open behind her.

  Muffled moans reached her ears as Caedmon and his conquest neared climax. Rowena shoved the door closed and held it in place. She covered her mouth with her hand and fought back a sob. This could not be happening! How…how could this be happening?

  Stretching her leg toward the wall, she caught the bottom rung of a wooden chair with her toe and eased the seat within reach. She grabbed the sides and jammed the back rail under the door handle. Hopping around, wiggling and shaking her hands in disgust, she flew from the room, down the hall and snatched her cell phone from her coat pocket.

  Oliver answered on the second ring. “Hey, doll.”

  “I need you.”

  Two seconds of dead air reverberated through the line. “I’ll be right there.”

  ***

  Glass of wine in hand, Rowena paced the length of her living room, darting uneasy glances down the hall. Caedmon had asked her to trust him. He’d begged her to believe in him and she’d done exactly as he asked. But the worst part? The truly sickening part? Her belief didn’t even matter anymore. Because the pain in her heart was real, and no fake betrayal could ever hurt this much.

  How could she have been so incredibly stupid, falling for every single one of his lines? An abundance of courtesans awaited his nightly dalliance. Weren’t those his words the first night they’d met? She dropped her head into her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. She actually believed Caedmon had started to care for her. She honestly thought he gave a crap. But, no. This was just like her relationship with Brad all over again. She’d opened her heart only to have it diced into little pieces and handed back to her on a silver platter. Apparently there was no shortage of lying, conniving sex addicts no matter what alternate realm they inhabited.

  She gritted her teeth, stomping her foot on the floor. For crying out loud, how was she ever supposed to sleep in that room again? Not to mention, unless she camped out on the couch or figured out a way to permanently bar the armoire door, she’d have to deal with the jackass for another twenty-four hours.

  The doorbell buzzed and she jumped before racing for the intercom, pressing the lock release long and hard to make sure Oliver gained entrance to the building.

  She flung open the door to her flat and anxiously shifted her weight while his footsteps pounded up the stairs. The moment he appeared in the stairwell, tears swarmed her eyes and a hard knot formed in the base of her throat. At least she could always rely on Ollie. Funny, how the one man who sincerely cared for her, was the one who would never want her in his bed.

  Rowena waved him in and retreated to her living room, pacing the same worn tread across her wooden floor. “He…he…” She pointed toward her bedroom. “I can’t believe he…”

  Oliver stepped through the threshold and closed the door. He dropped his gym bag near the couch and clasped her upper arms, bringing her to a stop. “What in the world happened?”

  “He was having sex with her!” she shouted. “I opened the armoire and he was having sex with her, Ollie!”

  “Who, sweetie?”

  “Caedmon and some…some…” She tossed her hand in the air. “Woman!”

  Oliver clenched his jaw and stared down the darkened hallway. “Are you telling me you came home to some sort of weird porno going on in your bedroom?”

  “Yes!” Rowena threw her hand down at her side with such vehemence her wine leapt in the glass.

  “Sick bastard.” He dropped her arms and started down the hall.

  Oh, no…shit. She spun on her toes. “Wait, Ollie.”

  He halted midstride, holding up his palm. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare make excuses for him. This is not happening to you again.”

  “No, that’s not it.” She held a finger in the air and tightly squeezed her eyes closed. This should be good. �
�He thinks you’re a god.” She opened her eyes and bit down on the knuckle of her index finger, awaiting Oliver’s reaction.

  He huffed and dramatically tossed his head. “Most men do, doll.”

  She dropped her hand. “Not attractive, Ollie. He thinks you’re an actual god.”

  “Oh.” He studied her eyes. “Well, if that’s the way he wants to play it, then let’s not disappoint him.”

  He strode to his gym bag, rummaged around inside and pulled out a white towel. Bending at the waist, he wrapped the towel around his head like a turban and stood.

  She lifted her brows, skimming the length of his yellow polo shirt, purple spandex riding shorts, to the athletic shoes on his feet. He couldn’t be serious. “This is your god outfit?”

  “It’s the best I can do at the moment.” He tucked the tail end of the towel under the edge at the back of his head and then patted the sides. “How do I look?”

  “Like Gloria Swanson.”

  “Perfect.” He spun toward the hall and marched straight for her bedroom.

  Rowena waited a moment, and then waited one more before she downed the rest of her wine and tiptoed after him. Like the scene of some gruesome accident, she didn’t want to be anywhere near the armoire, and at the same time, she couldn’t resist the temptation to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  She pushed her bedroom door back on its hinges and peeked around the threshold.

  “I would rather sever my right arm,” Caedmon spoke fiercely.

  “That, I would be happy to arrange.” Oliver crossed his legs and leaned back in the wooden chair sitting centered before the armoire’s open door, orange fire-glow dancing across his features.

  “I gladly incite the wrath of you or any god before I would betray Her Radiance in such a way.”

  “She saw you with her own eyes, Prince whatever-your-name-is.” Ollie flicked his hand, dismissing Caedmon’s declaration of innocence. “Deny all you want, but I’m telling you right now this little charade of yours is over.”

  Rowena stepped inside the room and stole silently across the floor, standing outside the view of the mirror.

  “She has just entered the room. I can feel her presence.”

  She pressed three fingertips to her lips. Oliver glanced at her and one of his eyebrows twitched in surprise. How could Caedmon possibly know she was there?

  “Please, my lady,” he spoke softly. “I do not understand. I just this moment returned to my chambers.”

  Rowena slashed her hand back and forth across her neck. She did not want to talk to him. The less opportunity he had to worm his way out of being caught with his pants down—literally—the better.

  Oliver scowled. “You left? Where did you go?”

  “Shouldn’t a god be able to divine the answer?” Bitter sarcasm sang through the mirror, followed by a heavy sigh. “Her Radiance gave me leave to attend my duties, but I see now this was a huge blunder. Treachery is afoot, and this is what comes of disregarding the Council. If she never forgives me, I shall die a miserable man.”

  Oliver squinted. “Who besides you and Her Radiance knew you were leaving?”

  “Master Emsworth, but no oth…” A moment of silence ensued. “Goddesses’ tits!”

  A frantic scrambling reverberated through the glass and Oliver’s eyes widened into two huge, blue saucers.

  Curiosity finally getting the best of her, Rowena stepped around the armoire door to the side of the chair, but the mirror showed only Caedmon’s empty room. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Oliver flapped his hand in the air. “He freaked out and suddenly ran off to the side.”

  A loud bang vibrated the glass and Rowena flinched at the same time Ollie slapped his palm to his chest. A few moments later, Caedmon marched into the room, dragging a helmeted guard by the scruff of his neck. The Prince wore his leg-o’-mutton coat and blue pantaloons, but his jaw was set, and fierce anger smoldered like two bits of coal in his gaze. He grabbed the chain mail near the young man’s shoulders and set the guard on his feet. Snatching a handful of his blue velvet tunic, Caedmon stood behind the guard and thrust him within inches of the mirror.

  “You have but one chance to respond truthfully or I shall gut you where you stand,” he snarled low in the guard’s ear. “I propose you fully reflect on your dire circumstances before you speak.”

  “My God,” Oliver whispered. “He’s like a sexy, English…panther. Rawrrr.”

  The guard nodded, quaking in his boots, his chain mail tinkling near the backs of his thighs.

  “Who entered my chamber whilst I was away?” Caedmon spoke softly, but thick venom dripped from each of his words.

  The guard closed his eyes.

  “Answer me!” Caedmon smashed the young man’s face to the glass and the mirror in Rowena’s bedroom clattered against the door.

  She jumped as Oliver squeaked and protectively lifted his leg, at the same time shielding the bottom half of his face with both fists.

  “P-p-prince Braedric, Your Highness.” A bead of sweat trickled down the guard’s temple from beneath his crooked helmet. “He said I should alert him if you d-departed. Th-that you would never last three days in your chamber.”

  “Who’s Braedric?” Ollie asked quietly.

  Caedmon yanked the man back and smacked him to the mirror a second time, rattling the frame. “Who else, you fool?”

  “A chambermaid, my lord.” The guard spoke quickly. “Annie from the kitchens.”

  Rowena’s eyes slammed shut as sweet relief washed through her chest. Of course. The shrouded mirror, the similar build…Braedric’s outrage when Caedmon had been named Rescinder. Now everything made sense. Braedric just couldn’t stand how he’d been passed over for a role he’d always assumed was rightfully his. God, would the man sink to any depths? Distaste curdled her tongue as Rowena spoke from the side of her lips. “Braedric, a.k.a. the resident asshole, is Caedmon’s older half-brother.”

  Caedmon wrenched the guard back from the mirror and seized him by the throat. “You speak of this to no one, do you hear me? Nary a soul.”

  Oliver sniffed, aiming a sharp finger at the glass. “Or I shall summon a pox on your man parts. May they wither and die.”

  The guard whimpered and covered his crotch with both hands.

  Caedmon slowly turned and leveled a hard stare at Oliver. A few tense seconds passed before the prince shifted his attention to Rowena. Skepticism kept his face deadpan, but a hint of merriment sparkled in his gaze. He no more believed Ollie was a god than she did. She rolled her eyes and the corner of Caedmon’s lips twitched in their shared amusement.

  He shoved the guard away, but remained devoted to her gaze. “Now leave my sight and never return.”

  The guard staggered backward several steps before straightening his helmet. He whirled toward the hallway and fled, slamming the door behind him.

  “Well,” Oliver patted the towel on his head. “That had to be the most stunning display of chivalry I’ve ever seen.”

  In the corner of Rowena’s eye, Oliver glanced between her and Caedmon, but she barely spared him a thought. Caedmon was all that mattered, and the profound regret swirling through the depths of his soulful brown eyes.

  “The blood boils in my veins to learn you fell victim to Braedric’s scheming, my lady. Shall I dispatch with him now or after you place judgment?”

  She smiled. “I think the best revenge would be to forget this entire incident ever occurred, don’t you? Braedric comes across as the kind of guy who hates to be ignored.”

  Satisfaction cleared the crease from Caedmon’s brow and he lowered his focus to her mouth. “As always, your shrewd wit and stunning beauty leave me humbled.” He placed his hand on the glass. “Please forgive me, my heart.”

  Desire sparked in her stomach, tingling deep and warming her inner thighs. She hadn’t been wrong. Caedmon did care for her, just as much as she cared for him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There is nothing to forgive.”


  She stepped past Oliver and lifted her palm, lining up her fingers on the glass to match those of her prince. The mirror sizzled and hummed. A waft of air drifted past her senses—the mingled scents of leather, candle wax and the heady musk of Caedmon’s skin.

  Oliver gasped and sprang from the chair. He darted an inquisitive glance at Rowena before approaching the armoire. With one finger extended, he tentatively reached toward the glass but, before he made contact, a small bolt of electricity leapt from the surface and crackled along his skin.

  He shrieked and flinched back. “Dammit!” He stuck the tip of his finger in his mouth and stared wide-eyed at her and Caedmon in turn.

  They shared a quiet laugh, and her heart swelled as joy crescendoed and doused her soul in a wave of the purest bright light. “I told you this was real, Ollie.”

  He studied the end of his finger and rubbed his thumb along the swelling, red skin. “I believe you, and I take back everything I said about doubting your judgment.” He shook his head, chuckling. “You’ve got a magic mirror in your closet, doll.”

  Rowena dropped her hand from the glass and slipped her arm through his, steering him toward the door. Not one doubt remained in her heart. “I know I do.”

  “And you’ve got your very own handsome prince, who lives in a kingdom.”

  “Yep.” She led a dazed Oliver toward the hall, glancing over her shoulder at Caedmon. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I anxiously await your return.”

  “Oh.” Ollie turned and smiled at Caedmon. “And I love your coat.”

  Rowena’s lilting laughter danced along the walls as she escorted Oliver from the room.

  Chapter Seven

  The hasp clicked into the latch and Rowena twisted the deadbolt in place. A spin on her toes and she rested her back against the front door, shoulders high and tight, her fingers laced under chin. She sighed through the giddy smile which had apparently found a permanent home on her cheeks. Did Caedmon have any idea what his actions meant to her? Did he know how leaping so valiantly to her defense had blissed her out with a serious case of the knight-in-shining-armor blues? Too bad she couldn’t thank him the way he deserved. If the man handled a woman’s body the same way he handled his sword…