The Beloved Scoundrel (16 page)

She had been taking, too, she realized suddenly. Jordan had promised her protection for Alex, but he had also given kindness. He had brought them here to safety and treated Alex like an indulged younger brother.

But he had done it only because of the Jedalar.

No, he could have merely supplied her with a place to work. He had sensed she would not be able to resist the opportunity to create, to perfect her craft. He didn’t have to be either kind or generous to them.

Perhaps he had been kind because he wanted her in
that
way.

But there had been nothing calculated in his lust; it had been as swift rising as a summer storm. When he had realized the storm would hurt her, he had sent it away.

“Marianna, what can I give him?” Alex asked. “He has so much.…”

“Take your time. He won’t return until spring. You’ll think of something,” she said gently. She bent and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Surprises are always best. Good night, Alex.”

She blew out the candle and moved toward the door.

Alex was far wiser than she, she thought resignedly. She had told Jordan she would accept everything and give nothing in return, but she should have known she wouldn’t be able to do it. It would have destroyed something within her. Gifts, no matter for what reason they were given, must be returned. It would have been so much easier if Jordan had remained the enemy who was trying to steal the Window to Heaven. Instead, he had begun to weave himself into their lives until he was now part of the fabric.

If she was to start anew here, she must learn to deal with that truth. He had said they could be friends. It could be that by offering her friendship, he only thought to persuade her to give him the Jedalar. It was far more difficult to refuse a friend than an enemy.

But wouldn’t that also be true of Jordan? Wasn’t he far less likely to use coercion toward her if their relationship were more harmonious?

Harmonious? The word was ludicrous used in connection with Jordan Draken. From the moment she had met him, her life had been fraught with conflict and uncertainty.

Yet on board the
Seastorm
there had been moments
of harmony and humor, and this afternoon he had been as kind as an older brother.

It might be possible.

W
ell, what news? Have you found her?” Nebrov asked.

“Not precisely.” Costain hesitated. “But I think I may know where she is.”

“Then why isn’t she here?”

“It may be difficult—”

“I don’t want to hear about difficulties. I want to hear about how you conquered them.”

“I had to come to ask if I should broach this particular difficulty.” He paused. “I believe the children may be under the protection of the duke of Cambaron.”

“Draken?” He frowned. He cursed viciously. “Why not? It should come as no surprise, what with the bad fortune that’s plagued me. Are you certain?”

Costain shook his head. “But the duke sailed from Domajo only a few months ago. I made inquiries on the dock, and I was told he had come directly from Talenka.”

“The Window to Heaven.” Nebrov’s lips curled. “Well, at least he didn’t get it either.”

“But he may have gotten the children, if they fled to Talenka after we killed the mother. Draken’s man, Gregor Damek, scoured the shops before he left to buy clothing for a little boy and a young girl. He was in a great hurry because they were sailing at midnight for England.”

“Then he does have them,” Nebrov muttered.

“But does he know what he has?”

“Of course, he knows. He has a connection with Kazan. I’d wager he was sent to Talenka to get the Window to Heaven before I did.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I would have liked to have seen his face when he saw it lying in pieces on the floor.”

“But, if the girl knows the pattern, there’s a possibility she could create another one.”

“No!” Nebrov’s hand clenched on the table. England. Why did Draken have to take the bitch to England, where he could not touch her?

But who said he could not touch her? he thought suddenly. Every stronghold could be breached if one was clever enough, patient enough. Draken was a formidable man, but Nebrov had detected a certain weakness in his character. He would have no compunction about killing an enemy, but he would hesitate in torturing the girl to get information about the Jedalar. He would not force the pace if patience would carry the day, and that weakness might give Nebrov the opportunity he needed.

Nebrov could be patient, too, if the stakes were high enough. Why not let Draken invest the time and effort and then take the prize away from him when the time was ripe?

“I think you must pay a visit to England, Marcus,” he told Costain. “I believe we must learn what’s happening at Cambaron.”

C
HAPTER
7

June 30, 1809
Cambaron, England

I
t’s just like you to give us so little notice, Jordan. A house party of seventy-five? Do you expect miracles?” Dorothy asked as she stood on the castle steps and watched Jordan get out of the phaeton. “Didn’t it occur to you that not everyone in the world is waiting to rush to do your bidding?”

“No, I’ve found if you expect miracles, they have a tendency to occur.” He smiled. “Particularly if you’re here to provide them, Dorothy. I was at a masked ball last night, and I suddenly decided it was time to come home. Since you forbid me to come without a bevy of chaperons, I invited the entire party.”

“Your sudden wish to come home is a bit surprising considering you were supposed to be home in the spring, and it’s summer already.”

“Did you miss me?” he teased.

“When have I had time to miss you? I’m far too busy with my own concerns to bother with thoughts of you.” She searched his face. “You look tired.”

“Dissipation.”

“Do you think I don’t know the difference? Have you been ill?”

“Of course not. Perhaps I’m a little tired. I just got back from France yesterday afternoon.”

“That Corsican again.” She waved a hand. “I don’t want to hear about him. When are we to expect these guests?”

“They should be arriving today and tomorrow. The first are probably a few hours behind me.” He started up the steps toward her. “And how have you been, dear cousin?”

“You mean how have I survived that obstinate young miss you set me to watch over? We’re comfortable with each other now.”

“I thought you’d approve of her. She has many of the same ideas you expound in your books.”

“I’ve noticed that she has exceptional good sense.” She added, “And a truly remarkable talent at her craft.”

“Has she?” He felt a leap of excitement that dispelled the lethargy and discouragement he felt after two futile months of trying to undermine Napoleon’s power in his homeland. The bastard had a stranglehold on half of Europe and was already looking to the East. “I’ve never seen her work.”

“She’s more artist than craftsman. She’s done a tiger about to pounce from a tree for the window at the landing. It’s magnificent.” She shivered. “And chilling.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

“It’s still in her workroom. I believe she’s been working on something else lately.”

The Jedalar? No, it was too early to hope. “And where is this magnificent artist?”

“She’s at the stable with Alex. The lad taught his pony a trick he wanted to show her.” She looked beyond his shoulder. “No, here she comes.”

He deliberately kept his manner casual and unhurried as he turned around. “I’m sure she will be as eager as you to bid me— Good God, what have you done to her?”

Dorothy stared approvingly at Marianna, who had just left the stable and was talking over her shoulder to someone inside. “What you sent for me to do.” She smiled with satisfaction. “She looks very young, doesn’t she? The dressmaker did very well indeed.”

Marianna was wearing a loose high-necked white gown with a blue sash beneath the bodice that hid any hint of curves. Tiny embroidered white slippers peeped from beneath the hem of her skirt with every step. Her hair, divided into two loose braids tied with matching blue ribbons, shone in the sunlight. Even her skin appeared to glow with the shimmer that only children possessed.

“Christ, she looks as if she belongs in the nursery.”

“Don’t blaspheme. She looks exactly as she should look. She’ll make a few appearances so that the guests can get a glimpse of her and appease their curiosity and then disappear. It would be better if she were less comely, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“No, there’s nothing we can do.” He hadn’t allowed himself to recognize the intensity of his desire to see Marianna again. Now, he felt outraged, as if he had been robbed, as if she had been stolen from him. She was no longer half woman, half child. To touch this … this … infant would be unthinkable. Yet he knew with maddening certainty that the woman
was still there, hidden, taunting him. He tore his gaze from her. “Where’s Gregor?”

“I haven’t seen him all morning.” She raised her voice. “Marianna!”

Marianna’s head turned, and she tensed as she saw Jordan. “Coming.” She flew across the courtyard, looking more like a child than ever. She skidded to a halt before him and dropped a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

He glared at her in astonishment. “What is this about?”

She looked up and smiled innocently. “Dorothy says it’s improper to address you informally and that a curtsy is an entirely appropriate gesture for a young girl to show respect to a man of your years and august estate. Don’t you approve?”

She knew very well he did not approve. She herself hated to be curtsied to. The little chit was teasing him, and in his present mood, he was definitely not amused. “I do not. Stop it.”

“As you like.” She stood staring at him. “You look terrible.”

Dorothy’s chuckle held a hint of malice.

“That appears to be the consensus of opinion. It must be my years and august estate. Why don’t you run along and play with your toys?” He started up the steps. “I’m going to find Gregor.”

To his surprise Marianna followed him. “I’ll go with you.”

Dorothy instantly shook her head. “You should not do—”

Marianna said impatiently, “Mercy, Dorothy, there’s no danger of gossip. There’s no one here yet.” She hurried after Jordan into the hall. “All of this is nonsense anyway.”

“I’m pleased you’re so desirous of my company.”

She ignored the mockery. “If you’re looking for Gregor, he’s in your bedchamber.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s doing something for me.”

“Snakes in my bed?”

“No.” She looked straight ahead. “Something else. A surprise.”

“I’m intrigued. The last time Gregor arranged a surprise in my bedchamber, it was exceptionally interesting.”

“This is
my
surprise.” She frowned. “And I wish you would not say things that make me feel uncomfortable. You’ve been very kind to me, and I’m trying to think well of you.”

“A great strain, I’m sure.”

“Not while you’re far away in London.”

He burst out laughing. Dammit, he wished he could have stayed annoyed with her. “I accept the qualification.” His smile lingered. “What kind things have I been doing for you?”

“You know.” Her manner was suddenly awkward. “Alex. The windows. You allowed the workmen to make the new windows and cut the roof of the ballroom for the glass dome. It’s all going to cost you a great deal of money.”

“I have a great deal of money.”

She lifted her chin. “That’s true, and Dorothy says we can put it to better use than your doxies.”

“That sounds like Dorothy. Have you forgiven me for unleashing her on you?”

“Of course, I like her very much.”

“When she’s not trying to tell you what to do.”

“Sometimes even that’s comforting. I know she
only means everything for the good.” Her tone was wistful. “It seems a long time since anyone truly cared what was best for me.”

She looked like a woeful little girl. He wanted to reach out and tug her braid, then tweak her cheek to make her smile. Good God, at this rate he would soon be patting her on the head and telling her bedtime stories. No, he would stay far away from anything to do with beds. “I’m glad you find her companionable.”

She darted him a glance. “But you do not?”

“Dorothy has always wanted to change the world, and she thinks I’m the best place to start. She’s tried to reform me since we were children.”

“She likes you.”

“I’m an eminently likable fellow.” Then he added, “When it suits me. You’d be surprised at the number of people who hold me in affection.”

She lowered her eyes. “I’m sure I would,” she murmured.

“Wretch. You’re not supposed to agree with me. A polite protest was in order.” He stopped before the door of his bedchamber. “Do I call out before I go in? I don’t want to ruin your surprise.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Gregor was just supervising two of the servants. He may not even still be here. Besides, the room belongs to you.” She shivered. “Though how you can stand it … It’s even bigger and darker than mine was before I moved to another room.”