Her friend looked up at Tris with a grin. “Believe me, we’ve been subjected to enough over-dramatized stage death to recognize the pose.”
“Here, give it to me.” Aila took the medallion and then the glasses off Tris’s face to study the figure. “There’s a tiny space under one paw. Big enough, I think…” She let the thought trail off and stuck the point of the small sword into the opening as if stabbing the lion’s chest with it.
It went in about a quarter of an inch, then…snick.
Chapter 24
The pendant opened on hidden hinges like a locket to reveal a space inside.
And an iron skeleton key.
But to what?
Brontë had an enthusiastic grin on her face. “And you thought there was no mystery. You’ve got to go back and figure out what this key opens. Oh, say what you like about Donell, but this is far more thrilling than dodging bullets.”
“Indeed, it is,” Tris agreed. “What do ye think, Aila?”
Her heart was pounding. Not with the exhilaration that brought broad smiles to her friend’s faces. It should have been. As Brontë said, a true mystery had been revealed where she’d thought there was none. Perhaps a true treasure, as well. Intrigue should be driving her to go back and discover the truth. Her own Miss Marple moment.
Instead, dread drove her back into her chair. Aila picked up her glass of whisky and downed the remainder of the contents in a single shot, earning herself a scowl of disapproval from Tris for abusing the fine Scotch.
“What’s the matter, Aila?” Brontë asked. “This is an exciting turn of events. There could be something to this after all. Oh, I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
“I willnae be coming up with anything.”
“What? Why? That’s what Donell sent you there for, isn’t it?”
“I have nae idea what he intended anymore. At any rate, I cannae go back there.”
“Why not?” When Aila offered nothing more than a shake of her head, Brontë looked up at Tris. “Would you give us a moment, please?”
“I think I’ll take that walk,” he said. “Perhaps find a stray grandmother along the way.”
A moment later, the front door closed with a soft thud and Aila’s hands were grasped again. This time by a pair of cool feminine ones. “What is it? We got sidetracked back there. You were going to tell me about this white knight of yours.”
“He isnae my white….” Aila caught the smile in her friend’s eyes and withdrew her hands. “This isnae amusing. I cannae go back there. After everything —” With a groan, she covered her face with her hands. “Do ye think Donell ever considers the consequences of his actions? Or does he intentionally…uh gah! I’ve never….”
“I don’t mean to tease.” Brontë grew more serious. “You must have followed the advice you once gave me and shagged your historical hottie.” The near hysterical laugh muffled by Aila’s hands was all the confirmation her friend needed. “How long did you say you were there again?”
“That disnae matter.” She dropped her hands. “Bottom line, he is hot. Sublimely sexy. Even sexier than that American actor ye always panted for before ye met Tris. Ye ken the tall, muscular one with the chiseled cheekbones and square jaw. So serious and stoic but when he smiles the whole world lights up?”
Brontë stared blankly.
“He was on some show about hunting demons or supernatural beings or some such?”
“Oh,thatone.”
“Aye, that one,” Aila confirmed with a nod. “Take him, add about two stone more in solid muscle and ye’d still no’ have a man as divinely handsome or sigh-worthy as Finn.”
“That’s pretty hot.”
“Aye, and the moment I laid eyes on him I kent I wouldnae put off the opportunity as ye did.”
“Hey! Ouch.”
“Point is, I had a chance and I took it.” She shook her head again, still wondering where it had been in those moments. “I mean, I leapt in with both feet without a second thought. Ye remember how ye told me about that first time when ye shagged Tris?”
Color flooded Brontë’s face. “We like to call it making love now, but yes, I recall the conversation.”
