Page 43 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Chapter 9
Paulette pushedthrough the library door and held her candle higher. Other than her own little pool of light, the room was shadowed. She could not see more than a few feet in front of her.
That sickening perfume swirled in the drafty room. Agruen was here somewhere, sitting in the dark, waiting to spook her.
Perhaps she should have gone ahead and met in the kitchens as he’d wanted, but somehow the library seemed safer.
Drawing too close to him would be foolish. Everyone else was abed. There was no Lord Bakeley here to come around the corner and rescue her.
So she must rescue herself, and she’d come armed for it.
She felt her way to the wall and circled around, spotting a candelabra on a table, and lighting the candles with her own.
That was better. She set down her candlestick. Warm light showed a high shelf filled with leather bound volumes. In other circumstances, she would love to explore them.
The curtains were drawn over a nearby window, and she opened them, casting a scant pool of light from a waning moon.
A low chuckle nearby made her hair stand.
“You are undoing all my dark work.” The voice was a growl, but easily recognizable as Agruen’s.
Paulette scuttled back to the light, knocking into a chair, the clatter reverberating through the room.
Agruen moved out of the darkness, his neck cloth loose over a flopping shirt. The scent of stale alcohol mixed with his overpowering cologne and a smell like a ripening privy. It had not been so powerful during that interminable dinner.
She caught her breath and steadied it. “Do not approach closer. I am not here for a tryst, Agruen. You have something of mine, and I want it back.”
He laughed and took an intimidating step. “You are accusing me of theft?”
“You took a ring of mine. Don’t try to deny it. A maid saw it in your chambers at Cransdall. You must give it back.”
“Must I?” He stepped up to the table and she went to the other side. The candle flame flashed in front of him, like the fires of hell.
“It was my mother’s.”
Not that Mama had valued it. Paulette had found it after her mother died, a strange, lopsided ring too large for small fingers. She’d worn it around her neck on a chain, wondering about the mystery of it, wondering if it had aught to do with the treasure.
“It could have no meaning to you,” she said.
Except as a means of tormenting a girl without friends.
She squeezed her lips shut. She might be friendless, but she was not without resources. Her hand slipped through the slit in her skirt and eased the knife higher in its sheath.
In spite of Jock’s tutoring, a strong man could take it from her, Mabel had warned her once. Agruen would not be so strong. He was drunk, dissipated, weak. And disgusting.
“You look like hell, Agruen, and you smell like death.”
His lips pulled back in a ghastly sneer. “That ring of your mother’s is part of a puzzle ring, lovely Paulette. Did you know that?”
The skin on her back rippled and her hand shook around the blade handle. She eased in another breath.
She hadn’t known, but a puzzle made sense. The design had an off-center design like the curved fingers and thumb of a hand. “Of course,” she said.
“And did you not wonder where the other piece was?”
“How could I if I didn’t know there was another piece?” She put up a hand. “Come no closer.”
He snickered. “Ihave its match, little Paulette. That’s why I took your ring. I’m going to solve the puzzle.”
