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  So that’s where she’d go. With any luck, by the time Evan found her note and came after her, she’d have already regained the chalice.

  She had to try. Because Evan had been absolutely right. There were other kinds of deaths, and a lifetime without him would be one.

  The throbbing in his shoulder awakened Evan. To his surprise, sunlight streamed through the window. Good God, it was late. It wasn’t like him to sleep past dawn. Must have been all that lovemaking with Catrin.

  Where was she, anyway? No doubt she’d gone down to breakfast without him, afraid he might assault her under the table again.

  When that memory made him hard, he groaned and got out of bed. Sadly, there’d be none of that today. Rhys and Juliana were returning. Catrin would spend the day trying to fool them into thinking that he and she were well-behaved. He would spend the day wanting her.

  Was that to be his continual state? Did married people ever tire of desiring their partners? He certainly hoped it didn’t continue to be this intense, or he’d be exhausted for the rest of his life. He wanted to make love to her night and day. He wanted to make love to her right now.

  But he’d have to find her first. Unfortunately, he’d need help dressing, but Catrin would die of shame if he called for a servant to come to her room and help him. Grumbling, he pulled on his drawers, gathered up his clothes, and dashed across the hall. He’d be glad when he didn’t have to sneak about, when he could make love to her without worrying about propriety.

  While a servant helped him dress, Evan asked, “Have the Vaughans returned?”

  “No, sir, but we expect them any moment.”

  Evan stifled a groan. It had been too much to hope that they’d stay in Carmarthen and give him more time with Catrin. “I suppose Mrs. Price is already up and about.”

  “I don’t believe so, sir. I believe she’s still in her room.”

  What? Why would the man think Catrin hadn’t arisen?

  After the servant left, Evan checked her empty room. He tried to remember if she’d mentioned anything about her plans for today, but they’d both been so caught up in each other that they hadn’t spoken of it. He’d been afraid to press her too much about marriage, confident that they would work it out when he was fully recovered. Now he wished he hadn’t been so hesitant.

  He went downstairs, hoping to find someone who’d seen her, then discovered that the Vaughans had returned. Rhys was speaking with the butler, looking solemn.

  “You’re back earlier than expected,” Evan said. “Where’s the rest of the family?”

  “Everyone else is eating breakfast. We left in too much of a hurry for that.” Rhys lowered his voice. “I had to come back and let you know of the latest disturbing development in this mess with that schoolmaster. Early this morning, he was found murdered in the forest outside Carmarthen.”

  Shock kept Evan speechless.

  “Apparently, it happened after he left here.” Rhys headed for the drawing room. “When they found him, he’d clearly been dead awhile. They weren’t sure who he was, but when I heard the description, I took a look and recognized him.”

  “You’re sure it was him?” Evan asked.

  “Yes.”

  They entered the drawing room and Rhys closed the door. “Everyone in Carmarthen assumed he was killed by thieves.” He fixed Evan with a worried gaze. “But I couldn’t help noticing that he’d been stabbed repeatedly. Like your friend Lord Mansfield.”

  Evan shuddered. “Oh my God.”

  “Yes. Apparently nothing of value was found on the body . . . like a chalice, for example.”

  Evan felt as if he’d been poleaxed. Morys must have been murdered for the chalice. Perhaps Justin had been, too. He remembered what Catrin had said about her uneasy feeling that she was being watched. Perhaps her feeling hadn’t simply been the result of her fearful nature. Someone had been watching her, waiting for her to gain the chalice so they could steal it from her. And when she’d eluded them, they’d assumed that Lord Mansfield still had it and assaulted him.

  But who?

  “Obviously,” Rhys went on, “this chalice is dangerous to one’s health. You saw it. Is it valuable enough to kill someone for?”

  Evan shook his head. “Until now, I thought its only value lay in its ability to end the curse on Catrin’s family.”

  “Ah yes, Juliana told me about that. You don’t really believe in it, do you?”

  “No. But Catrin does.” Evan’s eyes narrowed. “And perhaps someone else does, too. Someone who knows she won’t marry without it.”

  “Is there anyone who’d want to keep her from marrying?”

  Evan tried to remember who’d been most vocal in their disapproval of Catrin. “Perhaps her father-in-law, Sir Huw Price. He blames her for his son’s death. He might steal it just to thwart her. He’s a nasty fellow, but I can’t see him committing two brutal murders.”

  Rhys frowned. “I suppose we’ll have to talk to Catrin and see if she thinks her father-in-law would go to such lengths. She could also tell us if Sir Huw was gone from Llanddeusant while she was on her trip. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. When I woke up, she wasn’t in the bed.”

  “In the bed?” Rhys said with a raised eyebrow.

  For probably the first time in his life, Evan was at a loss for words. “Well, she . . . I mean, we . . . deuce take it, Rhys, isn’t that what you expected?”

  Rhys smiled. “I didn’t expect anything, but Juliana seemed rather certain that she’d pulled off the match of the century.”

  “Yes, well, half of the match seems to have disappeared,” Evan grumbled. “The servants told me she hadn’t arisen, but I knew she had. So where the deuce is she?”

  “She probably went out to the gardens early. I’m sure we’ll find her.”

  But they were met in the hall by Juliana, who waved an envelope at them. “I saw this on the salver. It’s addressed to Evan.”

  With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Evan tore the envelope open. As he scanned it, he groaned.

  “What is it?” Rhys asked.

  “Catrin has gone to Llanddeusant to get the chalice from Morys. She says she knew I’d do something foolish to get it back, and she thought it would be easier for her to convince Morys to give it to her if I weren’t around.”

  He crumpled the note with an oath, then turned to Rhys. “I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow a horse again.”

  “You shouldn’t be riding, with your shoulder still on the mend.”

  “I shan’t sit here wondering what kind of trouble she’s getting into,” Evan bit out. “I know Catrin. She may be timid, but when something matters to her, she turns stubborn. They won’t have heard about Morys’s murder yet. When she discovers he hasn’t returned, she’ll start looking for him, and she might run afoul of the murderer.”

  “Then I’m going with you.” Rhys turned to Juliana. “Can you manage without me?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Evan said. “I’m sure I’m worrying for nothing. I’ll probably find her at Plas Niwl, waiting for Morys to return to town so she can convince him to give her the chalice.”

  “And if you don’t? You’re still recovering, and you don’t know what you’ll come up against. The man who took the chalice has committed two murders to get it. What if it’s Catrin he’s after, and the chalice is just a means to gain her?”

  “Good point.” Much as Evan hated to take Rhys away from his family, he was worried. And he could use the help. “Very well. I accept your offer.” He flashed Juliana an apologetic glance. “Sorry. I hate to take Rhys off like this.”

  Rhys called for horses to be saddled, then laid a reassuring hand on Evan’s shoulder. “She can’t have been gone long. If we hurry, we might even catch up to her before she reaches Llanddeusant.”

  Evan nodded. But the more he thought about those two murders, the more fear gripped him. Because if something happened to her, he didn’t know how he�
�d survive it.

  21

  Night had fallen by the time Catrin reached David’s study at the school, only to find it empty, just as his house had been. Where was he? He couldn’t still be searching for her and Evan, could he?

  She heard the door to the school open. Perhaps that was him now. But the man who came through the door wasn’t David. It was Sir Reynald Jenkins.

  He seemed as startled to see her as she was to see him, but then he broke into a broad smile. “Why, Mrs. Price, what a pleasant surprise. You’ve returned from your long journey, have you? The whole town has been talking about that dreadful Mr. Quinley’s ridiculous accusations. I do hope your presence here means you’re finished with all that?”

  “Yes.” Why was Sir Reynald here? He’d never shown an interest in the school before.

  “So you escaped Mr. Newcome?” When she blinked at him, he added, “Mrs. Llewellyn has told us all about how he whisked you away. It was appalling.”

  “Mr. Newcome decided he made a mistake.”

  “Interesting. How did you convince him to believe you?” He cast her a knowing smile. “Then again, I think I can guess.”

  She fought a blush. How dared he insinuate such a thing? And how much had he heard about her and Evan through the gossip mill?

  She didn’t want to know. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have to go.”

  Sir Reynald’s smile abruptly vanished. He closed the door to the study. “I am afraid I can’t let you do that, Mrs. Price.”

  A warning rang in her mind. “Why not?”

  “I already know what happened between you and our foolish Mr. Morys. Your presence here indicates that you survived that ordeal none the worse for wear. But I must confess to being curious about how Mr. Newcome fared. Morys seemed convinced he had dealt the man a fatal wound.”

  She was stunned, not only by what Sir Reynald had learned, but also by the change in his manner. Sir Reynald had always struck her as something of a fop, but now he looked purposeful and bold and . . . and threatening.

  “So you’ve talked to David,” she said. “Where is he?”

  “It’s not David that interests you, is it?” Sir Reynald remarked in a lazy tone. “It’s the chalice.” He unknotted his cravat and drew it off.

  The strange action, combined with his words, started the blood pounding in Catrin’s heart. She backed away. “How do you know about that?”

  “From your ancient diary, of course. Morys brought it to me for authentication. That’s when I began watching you and waiting for you to find the drinking vessel. You see, although I found the curse intriguing, what interested me most was the chalice.” He fixed her with an unnerving gaze. “I don’t suppose you realize its significance, do you? Aside from its role in your family curse.”

  Unable to breathe, she tried to fathom what he was saying.

  “The warrior, the snake-wrapped maiden, and the raven are emblems of a sect of druids that practiced during the early Middle Ages, long after the original druids vanished from the shores of Brittany. Artifacts from their sect are sometimes confused for artifacts from the earlier druids.”

  When she gasped, he added, “You didn’t know I shared your fascination with such matters, did you, my dear? Of course, we have different reasons for our interest. You’re attracted to the druids’ oneness with nature, their belief in the spirits of the forest.”

  Reaching into his waistcoat, he withdrew a curved knife. “I, on the other hand, am intrigued by their darker beliefs. They understood what religion today has lost sight of. There’s power in blood . . . the blood of the innocent and the guilty, sacrificed for the good of society.”

  She stared at the knife, her every muscle going rigid with fear. “Y-you’re wrong about the druids. There’s no evidence that they practiced human sacrifice. Some scholars claim that the Roman Church created those tales to discredit them.”

  “That’s absurd. Any fool who studies the Mabinogion and the culture of the ancient Celts recognizes that the shedding of blood was central to their faith.” He frowned. “But enough of this. I’ve always known you’re much too tenderhearted to agree with me.”

  He stepped toward Catrin and lifted the knife to her throat. “Turn around.”

  She was too shocked to move. What did he want from her that he would use a knife to get it?

  “Do as I say, Catrin, and I shan’t hurt you. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  Trembling violently, she complied, afraid to find out what he’d do if she didn’t. “Why do you want to hurt me?” she whispered as he grabbed her hands and wrapped his cravat around them.

  “I don’t.” Yet he twisted the cravat into a painfully tight knot.

  How she wished she hadn’t left Evan so hastily! And where in God’s name was David? She’d welcome his appearance now.

  Leaning over her shoulder, Sir Reynald drew the scarf from her neck. As he paused to stare down the front of her gown, his breath whispered over the upper swells of her breasts. “It would be a shame to waste such loveliness on Morys or Newcome. But I recognize its worth and will treat it with the tender care it deserves.”

  The implications of that made her shudder. With a sinking heart, she felt him kneel to secure her ankles with the scarf. When he drew it tight and knotted it, she swayed, unable to keep her balance.

  He rose and slid his arm about her waist, then rasped in her ear, “I’m sorry to truss you, but I don’t think you’ll play your proper role in tomorrow morning’s drama unless I do.”

  “What drama?”

  “I’d intended to look for you after I searched Morys’s desk for any notes he might have left lying around that pointed to his association with me. But Fate has dumped you in my lap. Now I won’t have to delay the ceremony until Samhain.”

  With a shudder, she recognized the name of the Celtic festival that fell in October, when cattle were slaughtered in preparation for winter.

  “I can hold it at dawn tomorrow,” he continued. “As the sun rises for the solstice, the day of its greatest power, we’ll be joined in a union to eclipse all others. We’ll be married at the altar, Catrin, and then we’ll drink from the chalice.”

  He had the chalice? “Married?” she choked out, uncertain whether to be relieved or horrified by the prospect.

  “Yes. I know you would never willingly marry me, but I’ve planned for that. After we’re wed by a priest of our druid sect I’ll take you to my estate, where you’ll have a room of your own.”

  An involuntary shiver rippled over her. “You mean to keep me prisoner.”

  “Until you’ve sired my child and given me a true descendant of the druids to imbue with the knowledge of the ancients. What happens next is up to you. You can remain married to me and experience the power of the druids as your ancestress Morgana meant it to be. Or you can die. Either way, I shall have what I want—our child and your property, with the altar that stands on it.”

  He must mean the dolmen. So he was one of those strange men who crept onto her estate late at night to sacrifice birds and animals.

  A shudder wracked her. “Kill me, and you’ll never get my property.”

  “I’ll be your husband, so it will be mine legally. Of course, I’ll have to explain that you married me in secret, then fell ill and died, but no one will question that. The Ladies of the Mists have done stranger things. And I will, after all, have a will and testament in your own hand to prove me rightful owner.”

  “You’ll never get that from me.”

  “Oh, but I will. Do you think you can resist any torture? I doubt it. You’re not made of the same stuff as your doughty old grandmother, are you?”

  Torture? Terror gripped her so powerfully that her every muscle went weak. All this about druids and true descendants and altars . . . The man was mad! Why had she never guessed it?

  Because he was so crafty. But his plan couldn’t succeed. Evan knew she was here and he would come after her. He would find her.

  How? He won’
t know where to look for you, and he doesn’t realize that Sir Reynald is so treacherous. You certainly didn’t.

  Then she remembered what Sir Reynald had said about watching her and waiting for her to find the chalice. A chill sliced through her. “You followed me to London. It wasn’t thieves who murdered Lord Mansfield. It was you.”

  Surprising her with his strength, he set her on David’s desk so she faced him. “Of course. When Morys told me why you were going to town, I knew I finally had my chance to get both you and the chalice. I followed you to that inn, and when I saw a nobleman enter with a large box under his arm, I settled down to wait until you came out with it. But you didn’t emerge. I waited for you as I watched him walk out and stroll down the street, but still you didn’t appear.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So I accosted him and asked where you were. Unfortunately, he was decidedly uncommunicative, and when I persisted, he put his hand on his sword hilt.” He shrugged. “I don’t like it when people threaten me. I made sure he didn’t have the chance to draw.”

  Catrin shuddered, remembering what Evan had said about Lord Mansfield’s brutal death. Sir Reynald truly was beyond reason if he could murder with so little cause. And he seemed to revel in it, for his face wore the expression of a boy pleased at his own naughtiness.

  “Afterward,” he boasted, “I took the letter and money he had.” He gave a cruel laugh. “It was rather amusing to steal back the hundred pounds I’d paid you for that painting and make a profit on it, besides.”

  His voice hardened. “But it didn’t compensate for the loss of the chalice. I’d thought to catch up to you at your lodgings, but you evaded me, so I had no choice but to wait until you returned to find out what had become of the vessel.”

  “I suppose David told you what I told him.”

  “Yes—although if I’d realized you were lying, I’d have dispensed with his services sooner.”

  “Dispensed with his services? Have you . . . murdered David, too?”

  He smiled. “How do you think I got the chalice back?” He leaned close, his eyes so bright with pleasure that she recoiled. “I left him in the forest outside Carmarthen. I sacrificed him for the common good. Just as I sacrificed Lord Mansfield. And will sacrifice you, if you choose not to follow my rules.”