If He's Wild (6 page)

“I will need to make a list of what jewels I am aware of,” Hartley murmured, beginning to allow himself to share a little of Alethea’s excitement. “There may even be a listing amongst the papers the compte left behind with my solicitor. He knew it was dangerous despite the truce, but felt compelled to see if any others of his family still survived and if there was any chance of regaining at least a few of his holdings.” Hartley sighed. “I tried to keep Germaine and Bayard here, with me, but they wanted to be with their father as much as he wished them to see his homeland.”

“There is one other thing that may help in your search.” Suddenly aware of how she had grabbed hold of his hands, Alethea subtly tried to pull away from him, but he ever so slightly tightened his grip, and it was enough of an invitation that she stopped. “Germaine was dressed as a boy.” She nodded at his look of astonishment. “Her father must have thought it safer for her to do so. Even her hair was cut short, like a boy’s.”

Hartley stared at her in shock for a moment, then abruptly yanked her into his arms and kissed her. He had the fleeting thought that this was unwise, before he lost himself in the sweetness of her kiss. It was not a gentle kiss, either. Startled by his action, she had gasped, and he had taken swift advantage of that, plunging his tongue into her mouth and savoring the heat of her, the taste of her. She tasted like more. He wanted to feel her soft pale skin rub against his and her body wrapped tightly around him.

It took more effort than he thought it should to end the kiss. Hartley took one look at her flushed, wide-eyed face, and quickly stood up to pace the room, forcing his thoughts back to the important matter of Germaine and Bayard and off the compelling urge to indulge in more kisses. Knowing that he would soon want far more than kisses, no matter how stirring and sweet they were, alarmed him enough to help him regain his senses. Not only would seducing Alethea after all she had done for him be churlish, instinct told him it could prove very difficult to maintain the usual detachment he employed with his lovers.

“I was so transfixed by her face, I missed seeing how short her hair was. I feel certain Germaine would contrive to continue that disguise,” he said, breaking the heavy silence that surrounded them.

Alethea blinked, inwardly shaking free of the bemusement his kiss had caused. She clenched her hands together in her lap to repress the urge to touch her lips, lips that still held the warmth of his, lips that actually tingled slightly. The warmth of his kiss had spread rapidly through her body and was slow to dissipate. She wished he would leave for a few moments so that she could contemplate her first real kiss, and recover from it at her leisure. Sternly telling herself it had been no more than an impulsive act stemming from Hartley’s joy and raised hopes over all she had told him, Alethea fixed her attention upon the matter at hand—his lost family.

“As do I,” she replied, pleased at how calm her voice sounded, for inside she was a tumultuous mass of emotion. “She would undoubtedly see the advantages of it.”

His composure restored, Hartley turned to look at her. He briefly considered apologizing for taking such liberties with her person, but hastily decided against it. For one thing—it would be a lie to say he regretted the kiss. It also appeared that she was going to ignore it as well, excusing his actions as an impulsive response to the hope she had just given him, something that both relieved and annoyed him. He did not like the idea that she could ignore what had just happened or, even worse, put it out of her thoughts. Hartley shook away such strange thoughts and fixed his mind on the most important matter—rescue of his niece and nephew.

“So, I shall have to send word that it is not a family of six we seek, but two children. Actually, a young woman and a boy,
and
that the young woman may well be disguised as a boy. This will narrow the searching yet also make it much more difficult.”

“Is there nothing particularly distinguishable about her features? She looked a pretty girl.” Alethea stared at the sketch she had made and struggled to recall hair and eye color. “I doubt her features have changed all that much.”

“Probably not, but all I have is a miniature painted when she was much younger, barely more than an infant.”

“A problem easily solved.” Alethea took up her sketchbook. “I will do a sketch of how she looked three years ago.” Even as she began to sketch the girl’s face, softening the hard, murderous expression a little, Alethea could suddenly see Germaine as clearly as if the girl were standing in front of her. “She has blue eyes,” she murmured.

“Yes, like my sister’s. She has my mother’s eyes,” he said as he retook his seat at her side.

“Hartley, for a connoisseur of women, that was a very dull description.”

“I would not call myself such,” he muttered, a little shocked to discover that he did not want this woman to think him some heartless rogue who seduced and discarded women. How completely absurd, he mused, since he had worked hard on just that reputation for several years.

Alethea ignored him and the look of male bafflement he was giving her. “Germaine has very distinctive blue eyes. She may be able to hide everything else, but she could never, never completely hide those eyes.” She carefully tore the page from her sketchbook. “Her eyes are the clearest, brightest blue, like a beautiful summer sky or bluebells. Very, very blue, but not a dark one like mine or a pale one. Boy’s clothes, cropped hair, and all of that can never hide eyes like those. Her hair is a lovely golden brown, but that only helps if she is not covering it or it is not dulled with dirt. Ah, but those eyes, they mean that all your searchers have to do is get her to look at them.”

Hartley stared at her sketch of Germaine. “You have a true talent. I am glad you eased that look of hatred and anger on her face.”

“Will that be enough? I could make more if needed.”

“I believe this will do. I will send it with the next man going into France, and he can show it to our men there.” He looked at her and fought the urge to stroke her cheek, to feel the soft warmth of her lovely skin beneath his fingertips, to taste those full lips again. “This is all very difficult for you, is it not?”

“Yes and no. I do not usually—oh, how can I put this?—connect or bond with the person in my vision so strongly. I think Germaine’s emotions were so very intense they pulled me in. Seeing the murders through her eyes, feeling the fear and grief and fury that she felt, was difficult, but knowing I may have given you a clue that will help you find her and the boy? That makes it all worthwhile. There is hope in it all.”

“True, yet why has she not made it back to England? Surely she would try to come here.”

“Of course she would, but she fled that beach with nothing save the clothes on her back and Bayard. Also, the truce or lull in the madness has ended. She is stuck in a country at war, with itself as well as with other countries. I would not be surprised if she is managing to do little more than keep herself and Bayard alive, something that would take all of her strength and time. And whom could she trust? Whom could she
dare
to trust?”

Hartley nodded. “You are right. I was not thinking straight. Damn, not only are they half English; they are also half old-French aristocracy. The bloody riots have eased, but not the hatred. Or the mistrust, for many of the aristocracy who survived that insanity now oppose the government.” He stood up, took her hand in his, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “You have been most helpful, and kind. I know it is an ordeal for you.”

“Oh, no, I…” she began, trying to think of what to say despite the fact that the warm touch of his lips against her skin had apparently caused every thought in her head to scatter to the four winds.

“It
is.
I doubted it all at first, but when I saw you as you held that handkerchief”—he shook his head—“I could no longer argue away all the things you had said and shown me with your drawings.” He looked at the locket. “To me, this is but a pretty little trinket. Knowing where it was found, I could guess some tragedy had occurred, but it does not speak to me as it does to you.”

When he stepped back and tucked the locket back into the pocket of his waistcoat, Alethea stood up and lightly touched his arm. “It did speak to you in a way. You
knew
something was wrong. I suspect you got some feeling each time you touched it, that sense of danger and tragedy. It just speaks more loudly to me. If you had handed this to me before your niece went to France, it probably would have been no more to me than a pretty trinket as well. I might have sensed a few simple things such as the youth of the wearer, but nothing more. But, you see, she was wearing it against her skin when all those horrible things happened, when her world was shattered. It is as if her emotions soaked into the very metal, became trapped inside it. That is what gives me the vision.”

“You never touched anything of mine, had never even met me.”

Alethea grimaced. “I know. I do not understand why I have had visions of you for so long, dreams as well, and even felt your presence at times. It makes no sense. It never has. All too many times I was wretched, for I felt as if I had trespassed, bursting uninvited into your private moments.” She sighed. “’Tis a weak explanation, but I still wonder if it was all done to ready myself for this. I thought it happened so that I could save you, but now I begin to wonder if saving those two lost children was the reason, or a big part of it.” She briefly touched the pocket of his waistcoat where the locket rested. “After all, what were the chances that someone would find the locket Germaine lost and return it to you?”

Hartley thought that over for a moment. “Very small. It was found when the area was searched for some sign of them. It could be as you say. You were sent to save me because it is only through me that you can save Germaine and Bayard. Hah, just listen to us trying to make sense of the miraculous.” He also touched the pocket of his vest where the locket now rested. “I know it will be difficult to find my sister’s children, that they may well have died sometime during the three years they have been trapped in France. But now I have some hope.”

“I pray that hope is rewarded,” she whispered and put her hand over his where it still rested over the locket.

The warmth of her touch, of her honest concern and hope for him, flowed through Hartley’s body. He had never reacted so fiercely to the mere touch of a woman’s hand and was a little startled. Even as he told himself he should step away, should not give in to the growing attraction he felt for her, he reached out with his free hand and stroked her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, a delight to touch, and he ached to touch more of it. Her eyes darkened to a rich blue, and he knew she felt the same craving he did. Pushing aside all thought of the consequences and ignoring his own resolutions of but moments before, he lowered his mouth to hers. He had to have another taste.

She tasted sweet, hot, and willing, he thought as he slid an arm around her slim waist and pulled her closer. Just as he feared, she still tasted like more—more than kisses and a few gentle caresses. The way she fit against him made him wild with need, and he struggled against the fierce urge to tumble her down on the carpet. Alethea was a widow, but all his instincts, honed through years of playing love’s games, told him that she was far from an experienced one. The way she again seemed so startled when he slipped his tongue into her mouth simply confirmed that opinion. That taste of innocence only made his hunger for her more intense. He wanted to be the one to show her all the pleasure a man and woman could share.

Alethea was both thrilled and frightened by the desire Hartley stirred within her. A timid part of her wanted to pull away and flee the room. She silenced it and pressed closer to his hard body. Aside from a few light brushes of her husband’s lips across hers, Alethea had never been truly kissed, and she was not about to run from a second taste of this delight. The fact that it was Hartley introducing her to this pleasure only made her want it more. When he caressed her, moving his big hand down her back and over her bottom, she shivered, his bold touch firing her desire to even greater heights. The clothes that separated them became an irritation instead of the shield she should see them as.

“Ahem!”

If someone had poured a bucket of icy water over her head, Alethea doubted she could have been more startled. The passion that had been heating her blood faded so abruptly she nearly cried out in protest. Hartley tensed and pulled away, a chill distance eradicating the last of the warmth they had been sharing. She looked toward the doorway, where her uncle stood scowling at them, and bit back the urge to tell Iago to get out and be sure to shut the door behind him.

Taking a step away from Hartley and trying to look utterly innocent and unembarrassed, Alethea said, “We believe we know how to find his sister’s children.”

She immediately began to tell her uncle the tale of the locket and what she had seen. Iago’s attention and interest were quickly caught, just as she had hoped. Alethea was relieved when nothing was said about the embrace Iago had seen. She hoped her uncle had decided it was not worthy of causing a scene. She prayed her luck would hold.

“He just wants an affair, you know.”

Alethea sighed as she looked at Iago, who sprawled elegantly on the carriage seat facing her. A whole night and a day had passed since he had caught her and Hartley embracing. She had thought Iago had decided to just let the matter pass without mention. He had obviously not done so, had instead spent that time pondering the matter. Or perhaps, she thought as she studied his dark expression, brooding would be the better word.

“Mayhap that is all I wish as well,” she said and nearly smiled at his dark scowl.

“You may be a widow, but you are not experienced. A man like him could easily hurt a woman like you.”

“Physically?” She knew in her heart that Hartley would never harm her that way but was curious as to what her uncle thought.

“Never, but emotionally he could tear you apart.”

She could not argue with that, for every instinct she possessed had already warned her of that possibility. Good sense, however, appeared to have fled the moment Hartley had kissed her. She wanted more kisses. She wanted much more than kisses, too. Her dreams last night had been filled with all the scandalous possibilities of how he could give her the pleasure his kisses promised. What she had to decide was whether it would be worth the pain of being no more than a fleeting lust for him. Alethea feared she was more than willing to take that risk. The desire his kisses had aroused within her offered her a temptation she doubted she could resist.

“If I allow him to hurt me in that way, ’tis my folly, is it not? My foolishness to give my heart to a reputed rake, a man whose interest in and passion for women is well known to be as fleeting as a fine summer day.”

Iago grunted and then sighed. “Since you understand what such a man is like, why risk that trouble at all?”

“Would you ask a man the same question?”

“Clever wench,” he muttered and briefly smiled. “No, and well you know it. Men are expected to sow their wild oats, as many say. I do not quite understand why a man who seduces many women, has repeated affairs, and becomes marked a rake is smiled upon and accepted, considering how protective men are of the women in their family, but there it is. A man has to do some extraordinarily shameful things ere he is shunned. A man who is a rich, unwed marquis, handsome and young, has to do even more before the matchmaking mothers will allow him to be refused entry to any and all ton events. A woman, on the other hand, can find herself shunned and whispered about for simply dancing with and smiling at the wrong man.”

“How grossly unfair. Iago, I am a Vaughn despite my married name. If not for the fact that you are young, titled, and unwed, I would not be invited to these events anyway.”

“If people knew you—”

“If people truly knew me, I would never be invited anywhere save for a few small teas or salons where I would be expected to tell someone if their husband is faithful or whom they might wed. I would be the entertainment. I am not even an heiress some mother might wish to grasp for her son. I am just a young widow with enough of a portion to live in a small manor on a small acreage several days’ journey from London. What I am is the sort of woman men like Redgrave want as a lover.”

“Alethea—”

“No, Iago. This must be my decision. If ’tis folly, then so be it. If I end up heartbroken, then so be it. When this trouble ends, I go back to Coulthurst with Kate and Alfred. That is my future as it stands now. Would you begrudge me a short time of pleasure, of testing my wings?”

Iago sighed and shook his head. “No. As you say, you are a widow. Few know that you had no true marriage, and widows are allowed some freedom as long as they are discrete. Redgrave is discrete.”

“Then how does everyone know he is a rake?”

“Discrete just means that no one can
confirm
what is going on save for the ones directly involved, that the affair is not flaunted before one and all.”

“I do not think I will ever fully understand society.”

“Do not even try.”

“And this discussion may prove moot anyway. Hartley must continue his attempt to seduce secrets from Madame Claudette.” Alethea was surprised at how it hurt to even state that cold fact, but only a little. She had already guessed that she was in grave danger of losing more than her innocence to the far-too-handsome Marquis of Redgrave.

“I would be most surprised if he could even stomach being in the same room as that woman now. How could he not see the blood on her hands, mayhap even that of his niece and nephew, simply because she cast them out alone in France when she had their family murdered? He must be trying to think of a way to escape that duty even now, having lost all urge to do it.”

“Not even for king and country?”

“Ah. Forgot that. Will that trouble you?”

“I cannot say I will enjoy watching him ply his charms on another woman when I should very much like him to ply them on me, but I want her brought to justice. Not only for the lives she has already taken, but for the ones she plans to take.”

“Such as Redgrave’s.”

“Exactly. Remember, I saw her when I had the vision as I held Germaine’s locket. The woman had two small children, a good man, and his young wife slaughtered so she could have jewels. There may have even been some petty need for revenge for some imagined insult. If not for Germaine’s wit and strength, four children would have died on that beach. She did it all for gain, and that sickens me. Oh, yes, she may have had more reasons than simple robbery and revenge, but I know, deep in my heart, I know, none of those reasons go beyond her own greed and vanity.”

“Somehow, I do not believe seduction will work to get information out of such a woman.”

“No, it will not, but Hartley’s superiors think it will, and Hartley is, above all else, a good soldier. Since he cannot tell his superiors how he knows what he now does about Claudette, I think he will have to continue the game.”

“We shall see
how
he plays it soon,” said Iago as their carriage pulled to a halt before an elegant townhouse well lit by torches. “Both he and Madame Claudette will be here tonight.”

As Alethea allowed her uncle to escort her into the Lorings’ home, where the grand ball had already begun, she fought the urge to turn and flee. Her mind knew Hartley but played a game with Claudette, that he had been ordered to woo the woman and that in doing so he might find clues to lead him to his sister’s children, but she knew her heart would not understand. It would bleed a little with every smile he gave that woman. What should have been yet another lovely night of seeing how London society comported itself could easily turn into a painful nightmare.

“I see you responded to Madame’s coy invitation,” said Aldus.

Hartley grimaced and nodded even as he made certain Claudette was still immersed in conversation with her sister several feet away. Her note may have been coy, but the demand for his escort tonight had been very clear. Even if he would step away from her, he began to see that she would not allow him to do so easily. Her previous successes had made her arrogant, and arrogant people were not good losers.

So, he would flirt and smile. He would escort her places if he had to. He might even promise her more with an occasional kiss or caress. What he knew he would not do, could never do, was bed her. The mere thought of doing so turned his stomach.

“She will not give me the information we seek,” he said with utter conviction. “She plays this game for her own purposes, Aldus, and not just because she seeks me as her lover.”

“I know,” Gifford said as he handed Hartley a drink. “The more we learn of her, the more certain I am that she is not one to betray herself between the sheets. She hopes you will do so, however, as I fear others have. Peterson and Rogers died because some fool allowed his wits to flee whilst caught up in passion’s snare. The best you could do is let slip some false information that would lead her into a trap, but such tricks are not often successful. Yet how do we tell our superior Willsett that this is a waste of your time?”

“We will think of something ere you
have
to bed her, Hartley,” Aldus assured him.

“I cannot and will not bed that woman,” Hartley stated in a voice so hard and fierce it surprised even him. “My gorge rises when I simply kiss her hand, for I know how stained with innocent blood it is. I feel certain nothing else will rise even if she does her skillful best to make it so. My revulsion for her holds its own dangers. She may be a murderous viper, but she is also a survivor, and cunning. Soon she will notice that my ardor is false, that something has changed in me, and not to her favor. It would be best if I get away from her as soon as possible.”

Aldus nodded. “Understood and understandable. I am working on it.”

“Maybe we should just go to Willsett and tell him we are certain seduction will not work with this woman, that it might even make her suspicious.” Gifford shrugged when his friends just stared at him. “Just a thought. He has always trusted our judgment about such things.”

“It is a good thought, Gifford,” said Hartley, knowing that the man was right about their direct superior’s trust in them. “Willsett would heed our opinion, and we might not have to thoroughly explain how we came by it. Unfortunately, Willsett has gone home to Hampshire because his wife is due to birth their first child.”

“I could ride to his home and speak with him.”

“We will both go,” said Aldus.

Hartley opened his mouth to say no, that they should not trouble Willsett at such a time. Then he looked at Claudette, who smiled at him. He smiled back but knew by the slight narrowing of her eyes that his expression was not quite right. She was already growing suspicious, sensing the change in him that he was struggling to hide. Over the years he had become expert at hiding his feelings and suspicions, but this time it was all too personal. It would be safer for all of them if he could step away from her before that suspicion could grow into a hard certainty.

“Yes,” he said. “Go. I see now that I already falter in my act of ardently wooing her to my bed. I feel certain that, even now, she can sense the change in me. I realized last evening that, before we met the Vaughns, even though I did not like Claudette, I thought her no more than a seller of information, a greedy woman who gave no thought to the lives lost because of what she did. Now I spend all the time I am near her fighting the urge to put my hands around her neck and try to choke the truth from her.”

Aldus cleared his throat. “Most assuredly
not
loverlike.” He briefly grinned. “Do restrain yourself, old friend. And I only say that because it would gain us nothing. The woman has too many allies with the power to set her free if we try to question her without the proof needed to make them back away from her. She also has the cunning to know who can or cannot fulfill such a threat. You cannot. Not with your thoughts clear and your blood cold. You will not hesitate to bring her to the justice she so richly deserves to face, but you are no torturer. Certainly not of a woman.”

Hartley was not as confident of that as Aldus sounded. He could almost smell the blood on Claudette. Worse, he could see the fury and grief that had aged young Germaine’s face. Claudette was responsible for the loss of his sister’s children, of their innocence. If they had survived the past three years alone in France, he could only imagine what they had suffered. Such thoughts darkened his dreams and robbed him of his sleep.

“I do not know what you are thinking, Hart, but best you shake it out of your head,” said Gifford. “If Claudette sees that look on your face, she will flee the country.”

Hartley took a deep breath and struggled to calm the fury boiling in his veins. “Better?”

“Some. Leastwise you no longer look as if you wish to kill someone. Ah, and here are the Vaughns.”

Alethea.
The name whispered through his mind, igniting his senses, and Hartley nearly cursed. She was another reason he was not sleeping well. He would wake in the night, his mouth full of the rich, sweet promise of her kiss, and his body hard with wanting. Instinct warned him that the little seer could change his life, and he was not ready for change. At least that is what his stubborn mind kept saying. The rest of him was ready to leap into it with both feet and a cheer.

He looked at the Vaughns, who were slowly making their way through the crowd. Alethea was dressed in a gown of a deep burgundy, one that enhanced the soft curves of her body and touched the delicate ivory of her skin with a hint of warm color. His body tightened with need, and he had to smother a groan. The neckline of her gown was lower than what she usually wore, and he could see the soft swells of her breasts more clearly. He had a sharp vision of burying his face in that silken flesh and clenched his fists. The urge to go over and yank up the neck of her gown or find a shawl to throw around her shoulders was very strong. Control had never been so difficult to claim before.

“There is one sure way to push Claudette aside,” said Aldus when the Vaughns paused to speak to an older woman and her young, blushing daughter.

Hartley saw how intently Aldus was studying Alethea and immediately guessed his friend’s plan. “No.”

“Claudette would not wish to be in competition with any woman. She would hunt new prey. It would also explain to all the gossips why you turned away from her.”

“Alethea is in this too deeply as it is. And what surety do you have that Claudette would just step aside? We now know the woman is a cold-blooded killer. And that she takes insult at the smallest things. Mayhap she would even decide she still needed to gain information from me. If I put Alethea between us, Claudette could simply decide to have her removed.”

“Ah. I had not considered that. You must continue to remain acquaintances and no more, then.”

“Exactly. Let us hope Claudette has not heard the rumors about the Vaughns and, even more, does not believe them if she has.”

“Yes, that could cause trouble. Might be an idea to keep a close guard on them.”

“It might. We will just have to think of some reason it is needed, some reason they feel the need to add such guards.”