Free The Bride Tournament by Ruth Kaufman Page B

floor. He stuffed the notes into the hole he’d exposed, then returned each stone until the wall looked untouched.
    Satisfaction revived her. Her persistence had been rewarded. She’d never have uncovered that hiding place on her own.
    She ducked as Edmund de la Tour exited, locked the door and headed toward the castle. Obviously he didn’t know another key hung on her key ring. From her mother.
    She turned the key and slipped inside. Memories of her last visit flashed through her, when she’d searched for anything resembling a formula. Her goal had been destroy part of whatever she found to make him think he’d misplaced any missing pages. If she burned the lot, he might suspect her.
    “What in God’s name are you doing here?” He’d slammed the door. A glass jar had tumbled off the table and shattered, silvery liquid slithering into the dirt floor. “There go several hours, wasted.”
    Eleanor had shaken off remorse at being discovered. “You promised Mother you’d stop this foolishness!”
    “She’s no longer here to protest. Leave me to my work.” He picked up kindling from a basket and carried it to the hearth.
    “I speak in her stead. Do you even have a license?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “I thought not. Why do you refuse to see that the quest to turn base metals into gold can only bring ruin to all involved? Men have killed and will again to gain the secret for themselves.”
    He looked up from his notes. “You’re but a woman. What can you know of men’s ways? Whoever is the first to bring the true formula to the king will be rewarded beyond belief. And will know he has achieved a miracle.”
    “Or be murdered to prevent him from creating endless amounts of gold for himself.”
    Her father’s eyes glowed, so lost was he in his reveries. “That man’s fame will live forever. That is what I seek, a legacy.”
    Eleanor shivered, remembering. Driven by greed, her father would work himself to death if she didn’t stop him.
    It could take years to recreate any work she destroyed. He’d be furious, especially if he figured out she was the culprit, but any guilt would be mitigated by his betrayal of her, the need to fulfill her mother’s last wish and the belief that she was doing the right thing for him and her family.
    The dying fire shed just enough light. Standing on her toes to reach the stones, she grasped the first one her father had removed. She tugged ’til her fingers were raw, but it didn’t budge. To gain better purchase, she dragged a bench to the wall.
    “Let me help you.”
    She jumped at the sound of Richard’s voice. Her hands dropped to her sides.
    He stood in the doorway, one arm raised as he leaned against the frame. The fading fire emphasized his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes.
    Her heart thudded painfully. Had he seen her reach for the hiding place? Had she made matters worse by revealing the location of her father’s work, so Richard could claim it for Edward?
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded, sounding oddly like her father.

Chapter 6

    “I could ask the same of you,” Richard said.
    Eleanor quickly masked her surprise and sat gracefully on the bench he’d watched her drag to the hearth.
    “I awoke to find you gone,” he said. “Again. As I searched for you, I saw your father heading toward the castle from this direction. And spotted your footprints.”
    What luck. Eleanor’s midnight wanderings had led him to the very place he sought, saving him hours of fruitless searching.
    He closed the door behind him. The dimly lit workshop was so similar to his father’s, bittersweet memories of working by his side flashed through his mind. But of course it would be similar, with its numerous alembics—glass vessels required for distillation—since his father and Eleanor’s had been partners. Disagreement over the best ways to proceed, over who owned the work accomplished thus far, forced them to go their separate ways.
    Mere months later, his father and