Her disappointment and frustration increased. "Perhaps I should talk to him."
"I know it annoys you to sit and do nothing, but that would be the wrong thing to do. Let him come to the decision himself."
"And we wait and twiddle our thumbs."
"No, we sup. We talk. I need you to tell me more of Layla. He fights it, but she wields great influence with Tarik. Perhaps a game of chess." He bowed. "If you'll do me the honor."
"I don't wish to play chess."
"Too bad. In your present distraught state I'd easily sweep you away. Then do you wish me to leave you?"
"Would you?" she asked, skeptical.
"No, I'm selfish. After this endeavor gets under way, I don't know how often I'll be able to enjoy your company. I intend to take full advantage of this lull."
"Then, since I have no choice, I suppose I'll have to put up with you."
"And you're relieved to have even my humble company to while away the time." His eyes glimmered with mischief. "Admit it."
She was relieved. She didn't want to spend any more time alone and, for some reason, Kadar's hard edge seemed to have vanished. "Perhaps." She smiled. "Very well, I admit it."
"Ah, graciousness in a barren world." He took her arm and led her toward the door. "Come. I'll show you the garden."
"It's beautiful." Her finger gently touched the petals of a magnificent crimson rose growing on a bush beside the path. "I've never seen roses this late in the year. Scotland is not kind to roses."
"This is a gentler land. Could you become used to it?"
She shrugged. "I suppose one could become accustomed to anything, but I prefer Montdhu. This land is too easy. I don't see how the people here keep from becoming soft."
He chuckled. "Not all people require a challenge every day."
"Then they should." She gazed at the serene stillness of the crystal pool. "It's lovely, but I cannot imagine sitting here every day."
"I'm certain the woman for whom this villa was purchased was not of your nature. Tarik tells me the Pope bought the villa for his favorite mistress. She created this world to her own taste."
"Then she must have been a very docile and restrained woman."
"Not too restrained, or the Pope would not have thought her worth keeping." He paused. "Tarik says she gave him a son. It was the son who sold the villa to Tarik."
His tone was odd, and she asked, "So?"
"His name was Vaden."
Her eyes widened. "Vaden?" It was too bizarre. It could not be the same warrior who had been a Knight Templar with Ware. The enigmatic knight who had pursued and persecuted and, finally, saved them all. Yet she had heard that Vaden came from Rome and no one knew his background. "The son of the Pope?"
"It would explain why he was accepted into the Knights Templar."
"It can't be our Vaden. The coincidence is too great."
"The description Tarik gave me is very close." He gazed thoughtfully down into the mirrored waters of the pool. "And haven't you noticed some people seem tied together throughout their lives? Their paths weave in and out, come together and part, to form a pattern."
"Astonishing," she murmured, still dwelling on the coincidence. "Is he still in Rome?"
"I have no idea. Maybe. Tarik said he had formed a small army and was selling his sword to the warring factions in this land."
"Find out if he's here."
"Why?" His gaze shifted to her face. "Now what do you have in mind?"
