Roland felt as if he were the Bastille, and she the revolutionaries.
For a single instant, he was certain he'd never stand a chance. He attempted to remind himself of all of her faults. She was impulsive, impetuous, and as unpredictable as the weather. She acted without first thinking through the consequences of her actions. And sooner or later it was going to cost her.
Hell, it already had cost her, and dearly. He sensed she was glossing over the details of her time in St. Claire's hands. Yet he knew better than to press her for more.
He'd have killed the bastard years ago, had he known. He'd kill him now, if the scientist were alive.
Studying her faults did little good. Already, the beast inside was wakening.
Already, her presence had him thinking in terms of murder and retribution, had him fighting to control the violent side to his nature. He studied her and shook his head slowly. She was so much the way he'd been once, in his mortal lifetime. All the things he'd fought for years to suppress.
Perhaps he'd not succeed in dampening his desire for her by counting her faults. Perhaps instead, he ought to count his own. Even better, he should remind himself what had become of the other woman he'd lusted after.
"You're guarding your thoughts, Roland. Are they so unflattering?"
"I guard my thoughts out of habit. Do not take it personally."
"I think you lie. You don't wish me to see something."
He shrugged noncommittally. If she was determined to stay and taunt him, he'd resist her as best he could. For her sake, as well as his own. He would keep his distance. Never would the beast he held within be unleashed upon her. She'd done nothing to deserve that.
And perhaps while she was here, he'd teach her to act maturely and sensibly.
He'd show her the differences between a true lady, and the untamed child she was now. Like changing a cactus flower to a rose, he thought. He refused to acknowledge that the results would benefit him, as well. For he could never be as inflamed with longing for the rose, as he'd always been for the prickly flower.
No, he told himself the lesson would be for her, to get her to exercise some caution from time to time. He liked Rhiannon, sometimes in spite of himself.
He'd truly hate to see her come to grief because of her nature."the way he once had.
He frowned, and wondered briefly how long her visit would be. She hadn't told him. Her habit was to flit in and out of his life at will. She never remained long enough to do more than stir up a whirlwind, to pummel his senses--as well as his sense--with her vivacious nature, and then she would vanish. She was a desert sandstorm . a whirlpool from the Nile.
"Roland, darling, you are ignoring me."
He had been doing anything but that, though he would never admit it.
Instead, he glanced down from the corners of his eyes, and gave her a sharp nod.
"Precisely."
She sighed in exasperation.
"I suppose if you refuse to discuss our relationship"-- "We have no relationship, Rhiannon."
"We'll simply have to discuss the boy."She kept on speaking as if she'd never been interrupted. It was another of her maddening habits.
When speaking to Rhiannon, you either say what she wants to hear, or you are ignored. Maddening!
"What about the boy?"
"Where is he, Roland? Is he safe?"
He felt his spine relax a bit, now that they were on a neutral subject.
"At first, he and his mother lived in the castle."
"That ruin?"
Roland stiffened.
"The east wing, Rhiannon. It's perfectly habitable."
"For a monk, perhaps. Do go on."
He scowled, but kept on speaking. He had no desire to engage in verbal skirmishes.
"Then Kathryn took ill.""No wonder, in that drafty place."
Roland ignored the taunt this time.
"It was cancer, Rhiannon. She died eight months ago."
Rhiannon's hand flew to her throat and she drew a quick, little breath.
"Then, the boy is alone?"
"Not entirely. He has me, and there is Frederick, of course."
"Frederick?"She tilted her head slightly.
"That bear of a man you found sleeping on the streets in New York? Roland, can he be trusted with the boy?"
Roland nodded without reservation. Frederick was slightly slow-witted, but he had a heart of pure gold. And he adored Jamey.
"Yes. If I didn't trust him, he wouldn't be in my household. Jamey needs someone with him in those hours between school dismissal and sunset."
Still walking beside him, she stroked her long fingers across her forehead as would a Gypsy fortune-teller preparing to do a reading.
"Mmm, you enrolled him in a private school, no doubt."
"He refused a private school. Said he was not a snob and had no intention of becoming one."Roland shook his head.
"He does have a strong will. At any rate, he's known as James O'Brien. It's the closest I could come to Jamey Bryant."
"And where is this boy of yours, now? Tucked safely into his bed at your chateau.?"
"He had a soccer match tonight. Ought to be arriving any time now."
He glanced ahead of them, to the tall, gray stone wall' that surrounded Castle Courtemanche, and the portcullis at its center.
"You provided Frederick 'with a car, as well? Can he maneuver one?"
He frowned, and turned to follow the direction of her gaze.
"Damn it to hell."He gripped Rhiannon's arm and drew her nearer the cover of the brush along the narrow road's edge.
"Whatever are you doing?"
"Hush, Rhiannon."Roland moved slowly, silently, approaching the gate, and gazing toward the Cadillac that sat just outside it.
"That car should not be here."
"It isn't..."She bit her lip, and her eyes narrowed as she stared hard at the dark colored vehicle.
"There's a man behind the wheel."
Roland nodded. Already his mind scanned the intruder's but he found it closed to him. Most humans were so easily read it was child's play to scan their thoughts. This one had deliberately closed his mind off. Roland was certain of it. In the darkness, even with his preternatural vision, Roland couldn't see clearly enough to make a positive identification. The hard knot in his stomach was the only indication Curtis Rogers occupied the car, and that he was watching, waiting . for Jamey.
Rhiannon whispered.
"But I get no sense of the boy."She shook her head in frustration.
"Is that Rogers?"
"I don't know, but if it is, and it's truly vengeance he wants, then Jamison is in danger."
Rhiannon sucked in a breath.
"You believe this Rogers would kill the boy simply to hurt you.""
Roland shook his head.
"More likely kidnap him, and wait for me to come to his rescue. But while he had the boy, Rogers wouldn't hesitate to perform tests on him, experiments to discover more about the link between The Chosen, and the un dead "I know about DPI and their love of ... experiments."Roland slanted a glance toward Rhiannon, sickened anew by the knowledge of what had befallen her while in DPI's hands. Truly, he felt an urge to protect her from them, just as he was forced to protect Jamison. Foolish notion, he knew. Rhiannon would never stand for being protected, not by anyone. Moreover, were she with him constantly, stirring his mind to such turmoil, she would need protecting not by him, but from him.
"Where is the boy."It's late."
Roland shook his head, freeing his mind of its distractions, focusing again on the matter at hand.
"When they win, they usually stop for a meal on the way back. They are sometimes quite late."Even as he spoke, Roland searched for Jamey with his mind. It came as a blow when he found him, and realized he was ambling along the road from the opposite direction, completely oblivious to the threat that awaited him.
The man in the car saw the boy, too, for the door opened and he stepped out.
Jamey drew nearer, and before Roland could decide on a course of action, Rhiannon shot to her feet and ran toward the man.
"Oh, thank goodness, I've finally found someone!"
He turned to face her, wary-eyed and suspicious. Roland had a perfect view now, of the man's face. Curtis Rogers had changed little in the past two years. His blond hair still hung untrimmed and too long in the front. His pale brows and light eyes gave him the look of a weakling, and Roland knew that was precisely what he was. Yet with the resources of DPI and their constantly innovative arsenal of weapons and drugs, he was an enemy not to be taken lightly.
And right now, Rhiannon was standing within his reach.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Just a woman in need of assistance. My car went off the road a few miles back. I've been walking forever, and..."She continued moving forward, affecting a rather convincing little limp as she went.
"You simply must offer me a ride."
Get into that car with him, Rhiannon, and I'll remove you bodily!
Roland made his thoughts clear to her, and his anger with them. Had the woman no sense? If she got herself killed, he'd. Posh, Roland, you can be such a stick in the mud. She smiled up at Curtis as she stepped closer.
"You wouldn't dream of leaving me out here on my own, would you? I'd never forgive you if you did."
Her voice was a virtual purr now, and Roland felt his hackles rise.
Rogers's gaze moved slowly, thoroughly down her body, not missing a curve, and lingering too long on the enticing expanse of cleavage her dress exposed.
"I'd like to help you, lady, but I have some business to take care of."
Roland began to step out of hiding. Enough was enough. If he let it go on much longer--if Rogers laid one finger on her-No, darling! Her mind reached out to his with silent fingers. Your Jamey is getting too near. Slip around us and intercept the boy. I'll keep this one distracted.
If he realizes you're an immortal--Roland began to warn her.
Her low, husky laugh floated to him, and caused Rogers's brows to raise.
Look at him, Roland. He's far too busy noticing I'm a woman.
As if to prove her point, she stepped still nearer the man. Her hand floated upward and she traced the edge of his lapel with her nails.
Rogers's attention was riveted. Roland thought he could have danced a jig around the fool and not gained his notice. Jealousy rose like bile into his throat to replace the fear for her that had been there before. He slipped into the trees along the roadside, and quickly emerged again when he'd passed them. Jamey approached him now, only a few yards distant.
"Jamison ... it's Roland. Come here at once."
Without a moment's hesitation, Jamey ducked into the trees where Roland waited.
"What's up?"
Roland frowned, noting the soon-to-form bruise under Jamey's left eye, and the slightly swollen lower lip."What in God's name happened to you?"
Jamey shrugged in the carefree way only a fourteen-year-old can manage.
"Soccer's a rough sport."He glanced farther along the road and the carefree demeanor left his face.
"Who is that?"
He had a maturity that at times Went far beyond his years, and he'd grown as protective of Roland as he had once been of Tamara.
"I hate to upset you, Jamison, but the man in the car is"-- "Rogers!"Jamey recognized Curtis when the man moved into a more advantageous stance, and the boy lunged.
Roland caught his shoulders and held him easily."What do you think you're doing'?."
"That bastard almost killed me! When I get my hands on him, I"-- "You will watch your language, Jamison, and you will stay quiet and do as I tell you.
You can't instigate a physical altercation with a grown man."
"I'm a lot bigge than I was two years ago,"Jamey said, his voice dangerously low.
"And you know he has it coming. I owe him."His milk-chocolate-colored eyes glowed with absolute fierceness.
Roland felt a shudder run up his spine. God, but Jamis on was familiar.
His rage, his anger--Roland had known all of it, at that age. It had nearly destroyed him.
It had destroyed others. Far too many others.
"That he does, Jamison. But"-- Jamey's struggles suddenly ceased.
"Who is that?"His eyes widened, and Roland followed his gaze to see Rhiannon, playfully tousling Curt Rogers's hair.
Roland felt anger prickle his nape.
"A friend of mine. Her name's Rhiannon and I believe she thinks she's distracting Rogers so you can slip into the castle unnoticed."Jamey swallowed.
"She's gorgeous."
Roland just stared at her for an elongated moment. The moonlight played upon the satin skin of her shoulders like a caress.
"Yes,"he said softly. Then he shook himself."Yes, and apparently Rogers thinks so, too."
Rogers's hand settled on one of Rhiannon's naked shoulders, and proceeded to stroke a slow path down her arm. Roland felt the fury leap to life in his veins in a way it seldom had. For just an instant, his palms itched to clutch the chilled hilt of a broadsword.
Then he reminded himself he no longer needed one.
"Come, Jamey, before she decides to"-- He stopped himself before he finished the comment.
Jamey looked up at him, then glanced toward Rhiannon again, a sudden understanding lighting his eyes. He said nothing, only nodded, and followed Roland into the woods and up to the tall stone wall. He put an arm around Roland's shoulders. Roland did likewise, then leapt, easily clearing the wall and landing with a thud on the opposite side. Jamey hit the ground and tumbled forward. He shook his head sheepishly, got to his feet and brushed the dust from his jeans.
"One of these days, I'll get the hang of that."
Roland heard Rhiannon's deep laughter filling the night air.
"Is she ... like you?"Jamey had never used the word vampire, but Roland thought he knew. The boy was too insightful not to make his own assumptions, and his assumptions were usually right. Roland looked at him, and simply nodded.
"She shouldn't be out there with Curt Rogers,"Jamey said.
"You'r.e right about that. Go on inside, and wait for me in the great hall."
Roland spoke while gazing toward the portcullis. When Jamey didn't reply or move to obey, Roland sent him a sharp glance.
Jamey shook his head.
"No. I'm not a little kid anymore and I'm tired of other people fighting my battles for me. ' Roland very nearly barked at him, then closed his eyes and gave his head a shake. For an instant, he could have sworn he was looking at the image of himself, arguing with his father on the day before he'd left home for good. Fourteen. Yes, he'd been just that. And a mere two years later...
He blocked out the memory of that bloody battlefield."There is no battle to be fought,"he said calmly."Please, just go inside so I can fetch Rhiannon. God knows what kind of trouble she'll get into on her own."
Jamey kicked at a stray pebble with undue force, and shoved a hand through his hair.
"Why can't he just leave us alone?"
"Because he's still breathing."Rhiannon's voice startled Jamey. He jerked his head up in surprise. Roland only turned slowly and watched her approach.
He'd heard her land when she'd vaulted the wall.
Apparently someone else had, too. A tall, beefy form lumbered forward from the shadows, placing himself directly between Rhiannon and Jamey. She stopped, her brows lifting.
"It's all right, Frederick. She's a friend."
Rhiannon's imperious gaze clashed with Frederick's un trusting one.
Rhiannon took another step forward."Don't you remember me, Freddy?"
He frowned, and tilted his head to one side. Then he nodded, smiling.
"Rhia ... Rhian"-- "Rhiannon,"she supplied.
Frederick frowned, obviously remembering a slightly different version of her ever-changing name. Roland stepped forward, closing the gap between them, with Jamey at his side. He hoped the relief he felt at seeing her sound and without injury didn't show on his face."What have you done with Rogers?"
Rhiannon ignored Roland's question, and let her dark gaze linger on Jamey, who stared at her in turn as if she were made of chocolate.
"Hello, Jamison. I've heard a lot about you."She lifted her hand as she spoke, and Jamey took it at once, then looked down at it as if he wasn't sure what to do.
"Nice to, urn, meet you."He let her hand go, after giving it a brief squeeze.
"Rhiannon..."
She met Roland's eyes.
"Are you afraid I've killed him? Wouldn't we all be far better off. if I had?"
"I know we would,"Jamey said softly.
Roland shook his head.
"Killing is never justified, Jamison. It never makes anything better. It can destroy the killer just as surely as it does the victim. More so. At least the victim still has claim to his soul. The killer's is eaten away slowly."
Rhiannon rolled her eyes, and Jamey came close to smiling at her. She noticed, and bestowed upon him her devastating half smile, before turning back to Roland."Well, if you're too kindhearted to kill the man, what do you suggest? He's obviously discovered Jamey's whereabouts. We can't simply sit here and wait for him to come and take the boy."
"I'm no boy,"Jamey said.
"I think Jamison should go to the States for a while, spend some time with Eric and Tamara. It will be safer."Roland glanced at the boy to see what he thought of the idea.
Jamey widened his stance and lifted his chin.
"I'm not running away from him."
Rhiannon's warm gaze bathed Jamey with approval. He felt it, and stood a little taller. Roland was beginning to feel outnumbered.
"What have you done with Rogers?"he asked again.
Her gaze dropped before his.
"I tired of his sloppy advances. The fool tried to put his tongue into my ear."
Jamey chuckled hard, shaking his head, so his longish black curls moved with his laughter. Rhiannon smiled at him, while Roland scowled at her.
"Rhiannon, you have not answered the question."
She shrugged delicately.
"Monsieur Rogers is having a nap. I think he's been overworking himself of late."
"Rhiannon..."Roland's voice held a warning, but it seemed she was too busy exchanging secretive glances with Jamey, to take heed.
"Oh, Roland, I merely tapped him on the head. Honestly, he won't even' bear a scar."
"Wonderful!"Roland threw his hands in the air."Now he'll know you're in league with us. He'll hound your steps in search of retribution just as he does mine."It infuriated him that she constantly did things to put herself at risk. Then he realized how his concern for her would sound to her ears.
If she knew of his true feelings, she would never let up on her attempts at seduction. And he would only hurt her in the end.
"And you've conveniently left him lying at the front gate, blocking our exit,"Roland added, to give more severity to his complaints.
Rhiannon caught Jamey's eye and winked.
"All right, little bird, out with it. You haven't left him lying at the front gate, have you?"
"Well of course I haven't. I'm not an idiot."She placed a hand on Jamey's shoulder.
"Come now, and pack yourself a bag or two. That lovely Cadillac is just sitting out there, all warmed up and ready to go."
"Go where?"
"My place. I have a little house just beyond the village. Rogers won't bother you there."
"No, Rhiannon. Jamey will be far safer here, with Frederick and I to watch over him."
She studied him for a long moment, and seemed deep in thought.
"All right, then. I'll be back soon."
"Rhiannon, where are you"-- Before Roland could finish the question, she was gone. He heard the sound of Curtis Rogers's car roaring to life a second later. Then it squealed away into the night.