* * * * *
Adrienne knew she was being followed.
Escaping the castle was as hard as trying to break out of a prison. She had less chance of evading the guards than she had of wishing herself back to the twentieth century. This time she didn't even have a gun.
Like the night Eberhard had died—a night she'd promised herself never to think of again.
She hadn't meant for any of it to happen. She hadn't even known what was going on until the night she'd finally discovered why Eberhard had been sending her on all those solitary vacations. So lovely and stupidly gullible. Wasn't that how she'd heard him describe her that night she'd returned unexpectedly from London, hoping to surprise him?
And surprise him she had.
Slipping in the back door of the garage and into his luxurious home, Adrienne overheard a conversation not meant for her ears.
A conversation he would have killed her for hearing.
She hadn't called out his name as she'd placed her hand on the door to his den. Gerard's voice carried clearly through the door.
"Did Rupert meet her in London?"
Adrienne froze. They were talking about her. How had they known that Rupert was in London? She'd just met him there yesterday. She hadn't even called Eberhard and discussed anything with him yet. She'd come back on the redeye and it had taken all day and half the night to get home. She pressed her ear to the door, listening curiously.
Eberhard laughed. "Just as we'd planned. He told her he was in town to buy a gift for his wife. You know Adrienne, she'd believe anything. She didn't notice a thing when he swapped her luggage. She's so lovely and gullible. You were right about her from the first, Gerard. She's the perfect pigeon. And she'll never catch on to what we're doing until it's too late to matter."
Adrienne jerked violently, her hand frozen on the door.
"And when she finally gets caught, Eb? What will you do then?"
Eberhard's laughter chilled her blood. "Ah, that's the beauty of it. They'll dig up the records from the orphanage. I took the liberty of having them doctored a bit. They now reflect a juvenile delinquent with a natural inclination toward criminal behavior. She'll take the fall alone. There's not a cop in my fair city who'd try to pin anything on Mr. Eberhard Darrow Garrett—generous political patron. I never leave the Kingdom of N'Awlins. She's the one always in and out of the country."
Adrienne's eyes were wide with horror. What was he saying?
Gerard laughed. "We got a huge shipment out in her Mercedes last month, Eb. The Acapulco run was nothing but brilliant."
Shipment? Adrienne wondered frantically. Shipment of what? She backed soundlessly away from the door.
Stupid. Gullible. Innocent. What was so bad about being innocent? she wondered as she slunk through the darkened house, swallowing her sobs. At least there was honor in innocence. At least she never hurt anyone, never used anyone. So maybe she was a tad… gullible. Maybe she even lacked a bit of common sense. But she more than made up for it in other departments. She had a good heart. That should count for something.
Her throat tightened with suppressed tears. Stop it, she chided herself. Focus. Find the queen. Get back home. They don't make men like the Hawk in the twentieth century, and after the Hawk no man would ever be a temptation again.
The gatehouse loomed before her. Why hadn't they stopped her? She knew they were still there. Maybe he wanted them to let her go. Maybe she'd been so naive and unschooled that he really wasn't interested at all. After all, a man like that certainly wouldn't have a hard time finding a willing woman.
What would the king's whore care? There would always be another woman.
She kicked angrily at a pebble and watched it skitter into the wall of the gatehouse. Would they pull up the portcullis and draw back the sally port for her? Roll out the red carpet to celebrate her leave-taking?
And as she stepped into the archway, Grimm melted out of the shadows.
She stopped, relieved.
Try that again, she told herself. Write that scene one more time, Adrienne de Simone. It reads, "she stopped, furious at being denied escape."
No, definitely relieved.
She sighed, her shoulders drooping. "Grimm. Let me pass. It's my life. Move."
He shook his head. "Sorry, milady."
"Grimm, I must go back to the Comyn keep."
"Why?"
She studied him a moment in the breaking light. He looked truly confused, and his eyes kept scanning the northern bailey, as if he was expecting someone. "Because I'm homesick," she lied. Well, perhaps not exactly a lie—she did miss Moonie terribly.
"Ah!" Understanding dawned in his handsome features. He stood before her, his legs apart, muscular arms folded across his chest. "Are you looking for something?"
"What?" He couldn't know! Could he? "Grimm, did Lady Comyn—I mean my mother—say anything about… well… anything of mine that I might have left there… at home?"