The Amber Room Page 0,129

a voyeur.

He stopped at another viewpoint and twisted open a lead cover. He recognized the Carolotta Room from the handsome bed and escritoire. Loring had named the space for the mistress of King Ludwig I of Bavaria, and her portrait adorned the far wall. He wondered what decoration disguised the peephole. Probably the wood carvings he recalled from having been assigned the chamber one night.

He moved on.

Suddenly, he heard voices vibrating though the stone. He searched for a look. Finding a Judas hole, he peered inside and saw the figure of Rachel Cutler standing in the middle of a brightly lit room, maroon towels wrapped around her naked frame and wet hair.

He stopped his advance.

"I told you McKoy was up to something," Rachel said.

Paul was sitting before a polished rosewood escritoire. He and Rachel were sharing a room on the castle's fourth floor. McKoy had been given another room farther down. The steward who brought their bag upstairs had explained that the space was known as the Wedding Chamber, in honor of the seventeenth-century portrait of a couple in allegorical costume that hung over the sleigh bed. The room was spacious and equipped with a private bath, and Rachel had taken the opportunity to soak in the tub for a few minutes, cleaning up for dinner that Loring informed them would be at six.

"I'm uncomfortable with this," he said. "I imagine Loring is not a man to take lightly. Especially to blackmail."

Rachel slipped the towel from her head and stepped back into the bathroom, dabbing her locks dry. A hair dryer came on.

He studied a painting on the far wall. It was a half-figure of a penitent St. Peter. A da Cortona or maybe a Reni. Seventeenth-century Italian, if he remembered correctly.

Expensive, provided one could even be found outside a museum. The canvas appeared original. From what little he knew about porcelain, the figurines resting on corbels attached to the wall on either side of the painting were Riemenschneider. Fifteenthcentury German and priceless. On the way up the staircase to the bedroom they'd passed more paintings, tapestries, and sculptures. What the museum staff in Atlanta would give to display just a fraction of the items.

The hair dryer clicked off. Rachel stepped out of the bathroom, fingers teasing her auburn hair. "Like a hotel room," she said. "Soap, shampoo, and hair dryer." "Except that the room is decorated with fine art worth millions."

"This stuff's original?"

"From what I can see."

"Paul, we have to do something about McKoy. This is going too far."

"I agree. But Loring bothers me. He's not at all what I expected."

"You've been watching too many James Bond movies. He's just a rich old man who

loves art."

"He took McKoy's threat too calmly for me."

"Should we call Pannik and let him know we're staying over?"

"I don't think so. Let's just play it by ear right now. But I vote to get out of here tomorrow."

"You won't get any grief from me on that."

Rachel undraped the towel and slipped on a pair of panties. He watched from the chair, trying to remain impassive.

"It's not fair," he said.

"What's not?"

"You dancing around naked."

She snapped her bra in place, then walked over and climbed in his lap. "I meant what I said last night. I want to try again."

He stared at the Ice Queen, seminaked in his arms.

"I never stopped loving you, Paul. I don't know what happened. I think my pride and anger just took hold. There came a point when I felt stifled. It's nothing you did. It was me. After I went on the bench, something happened. I can't really explain." She was right. Their problems had escalated after she was sworn in. Perhaps the mollification from everyone saying "Yes, ma'am" and "Her Honor" all day was hard to leave behind at the office. But to him she was Rachel Bates, a woman he loved, not an item of respect or a conduit to the wisdom of Solomon. He argued with her, told her what to do, and complained when she didn't do it. Perhaps, after a while, the startling contrast between their two worlds became difficult to delineate. So difficult that she'd ultimately rid herself of one side of the conflict.

"Daddy's death and all this has brought things home to me. All of Mama's and Daddy's family were killed in the war. I have no one other than Marla and Brent ... and you."

He stared at her.

"I mean that. You are my family, Paul. I made a big mistake three years