Tonight or Never (27 page)

Chloe felt that molten exchange right across the room.

Her hand went to her throat and she coughed, gagging slightly on her wine. Perhaps she had been overdoing it a wee bit? John appeared somewhat… furious.

Well, she supposed she had been shamelessly flirting.

Now what should she do? She needed to appease him quickly, for that night they intended to begin their vigil for the Black Rose.

He wouldn't be a very good traveling companion if he was still frothing with anger at her.

Chloe got an idea.

Standing up, she excused herself momentarily from her seat and made her way to John's end of the table. When she came over to where he was sitting, the viscount pretended he hadn't been watching her every move by taking another slow sip of wine.

Very good, John.
As if I don't know that you haven't taken your attention off of me for one moment!

She placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning over to whisper, "I'm terribly sorry about your model, John. Perhaps I can find you another just like it?"

John's temper
soared
another notch.
As if the loss of the small ship is the entire source of my mood
!

He was not fooled by her token gesture for a minute. Putting his cup down, he turned to view her over his shoulder. "That's very kind of you, Lady Sexton," he intoned flatly.

Chloe reasoned the better part of valor was in the exit. She pivoted to return to her seat, hoping he would cool off on his own. A strong hand clasped her wrist.

He tugged her back to him, practically onto his lap.

"John! Everyone is looking at us!" Chloe braced her hand on his shoulder.

"Do you think I care?" He watched her from beneath heavy lids.

"John, stop this! It is embarrassing; what do you think—"

His other hand came up to cup the back of her head, pulling her to him. He kissed her soundly on the lips.

It was not a loving kiss.

But it
was
a kiss of ownership. And it was directed at the
Cyndreacs
.

Upon seeing their host and hostess so romantically engaged, the diners at the table banged on the cloth and
clinked
their glasses in good-natured joviality.

John released her abruptly. Turning back to his meal, he all but ignored her standing there, dumbfounded at his behavior.

Adrien
Cyndreac
caught Maurice
Chavaneau's
attention at the next table, winking at him before lifting his glass in a toast to declare to one and all, "The thing speaks for itself!"

John grimaced while everyone saluted him.

Serves you right, Lord Sexton
, Chloe thought sourly. Staging a show like that simply to…

Chloe sucked in a breath. John had staked a claim on her!
A possessive claim.

Stunned, she looked over at the rogue, but he wouldn't meet her eye, instead choosing to engage the
Zambeau
in an intimate discussion. Chloe was not happy about that; however, considering what he had just done, she was inclined to overlook it.

John had never been possessive over a woman in his life. Why had he done it? Was it simply to stake a territorial claim in the manner of the male beast or was there something else behind it? Their agreement was still in effect, so why did John feel… threatened.
Did he
?

She examined his profile, not even daring to hope.

A rake who felt threatened was… a… a… husband!

The
Zambeau
winked at Lord John, sliding her fan down his arm.

Well, half a husband. Apparently still half a rogue too. Chloe pouted. John was tugging at the tether.

A sudden horrible feeling assailed her. She could yet lose everything.

A light sweat broke across her brow. Feeling suddenly ill, she excused herself from the table and made her way back to her chamber.

Undressing quickly, she got into bed, sliding naked between the cool sheets. She wanted to be alone in the darkened room with just one candle—her thinking candle.

There was no need to feel this way yet. John was doing remarkably well and…

A wave of depression overcame her.

Placing the cause of it on her recent lack of sleep—John had been keeping her up until the small hours of morning making love to her—she decided to take a nap and see how she felt when she woke up. If she was still worried about him, she was going to be forced to thump him over the head again.

She sighed mournfully.

Even if it was in his best interest, she doubted Lord Sexton would welcome the remedy.

She was dozing lightly when she felt the bed dip. "John?" she murmured sleepily.

"It had better be." He took her in his arms. "What's the matter? You're not ill, are you?" There was concern in his voice.

"No, just…"

He smoothed back a strand of her hair from her face.
"Just what, Chloe?"
His lips pressed against her brow.

"I…" She gazed up at him.

"What," he whispered. "Tell me."

She couldn't.

"I-I just want to nap, John."

He seemed disappointed with what she had chosen to say.
"Of course, Chloe.
Whatever you wish."
He still held her, though.

"I'm very tired, John."

"Then sleep, sweet; I'll wake you later, when it is time to leave."

Nodding, she burrowed her face into his warm chest. The familiar woodsy scent, so comforting to her, caused her to feel teary eyed for some reason.

What if he never realized… No!
Don't think it, Chloe
.

John felt the dampness from her eyes against his chest. Puzzled, he gazed down at the woman in his arms and wondered what had upset her so.

He was the one who had been annoyed over her behavior with the
Cyns
! Did she really want them that much?
Too bad.
He wasn't going to allow it! And he was going to have to start making that clear to her.

There would be no others.

She was his.

Period.

Chloe did feel better once she woke up.

Her general good spirits restored by the revitalizing nap, she was raring to go after the Black Rose while still having enough energy to
cosh
her husband on the head.

In fact, it was Chloe who woke
him
by tugging at the sheet until he finally rolled off the bed in a tangle of linens.

He hit the floor like a stone.

"
Ow
!
Dammit
, Chloe!"
He rubbed his head, thinking if he took one more knock on it, he would be a candidate for the village idiot.

"Get up, John; we need to be going if we have any hope of catching him."

"It's not as if he's down there waiting for us, Chloe," he grumbled.

"We do have to lie in wait for him; chances are he won't even appear this—
What in God's name are you wearing
?"

"Do you like it?" Chloe pivoted for him, showing her backside covered in black leather breeches. The material stretched taut over her rounded derriere.

"Where did you find that?" he asked softly through clenched teeth.

"The
Cyns
helped me; they—"

"You told the
Cyns
." He spoke in a flat even tone.
"The ones who are the prime suspects."

"Oh, not about that."
She waved her hand impatiently. "I just told them I needed some breeches."

John closed his eyes and shook his head.

Chloe bit her lip. "They all offered me theirs, but they were much too large and…"

John's eyes popped open. "You tried on their breeches?"

"Well…"

That muscle in his jaw started working.

"Just one," she added
placatingly
. "Since they were too big, the
Cyns
found these… somewhere."

In the attic, to be precise.

"
I
think they belonged to Great-Uncle Harry.
Hellgate
Harry. They called him that because he had the most dreadful temper! I think it was because he was so short; all that
disatisfaction
didn't have much room to—"

John pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Chloe."

"What?" She put her hands on her hips and frowned.

"Just make sure you bring a cloak with you."

"Because of a chill?"

"No.
To cover that ridiculous getup!"

"Oh, really.
Well, the
Cyns
thought it was very charming."

He gave her an incendiary look. Untangling himself from the sheets, he rose off the floor stark naked and backed her against the wall.

Placing his palms on either side of her head, he purposely leaned into her. Several strands of his tousled golden hair fell across his forehead as he stared down at her through glinting green slits.

"Stay away from them when you're by yourself, madam," he said in a tellingly low tone. "Do I make myself clear?"

It was all she could do not to grin. "Yes, John."

Placing her arms around his neck, she stood on tiptoe and brushed his mouth with hers.

He closed one eye and cocked the brow of the other. The effect was rather roguish. "I'm serious, Chloe."

"I understand; it's not in line with what we agreed."

"It has nothing—" But Chloe had already ducked under his arm.

She began tossing clothes at him, urging him to hurry. "I have a feeling he's going to make an appearance tonight."

John's nostrils flared. He didn't think he had quite gotten through to the
carrottop
, but at least she wouldn't find herself alone with the playful counts.

"
Mmm
," was all he said as he stepped into his breeches and fastened them about his lean hips.

"I just think you should ask someone, that's all."

"I said I would find it."

John had been saying that for the past several hours. They were atop his stallion, traveling through the misty night, headed heaven knew where—for John certainly didn't, no matter what he claimed to the contrary.

Earlier, they had settled in a comfortable spot to observe the entrance to the estate.

It wasn't long before John got bored and his hands started wandering.
All over Chloe.
A convenient hayloft almost caused them to miss seeing him. The Black Rose.

True to his name, he appeared out of the mist dressed entirely in black, riding a powerful black horse. Behind him, he led a group of ragged French in a rickety cart.

He brought them just to the entrance of the gates of the drive,
then
disengaged himself to disappear in a flash down the wooded lane.

Chloe had gasped. "Did you see—
"

John was already up and moving.

With admirable reflexes, he tossed her onto the front of his horse and took off in pursuit, careful to stay behind, out of sight of the dark rider.

They had trailed the Black Rose for two hours, losing him inside a small hamlet they had entered. The man had entered a run-down tavern there and had never come out.

Or at least it appeared that way.

John instructed Chloe to stay hidden by the horse while he went inside to see if he could find out anything. Leaving her his pistol, he told her to fire it in the air if there was an emergency.

He came out soon enough, concerned about leaving Chloe alone for any length of time. His wife was nibbling contentedly on a piece of chicken. He shook his head disbelievingly.

"The
tavernkeeper
remembered him; he said that the man had asked some information about Randolph, a small village to the west. He must have left somehow and we missed him."

John placed Chloe on his horse and remounted behind her. "He's probably heading to
Randolph right now."

"Do you know the way there?" she asked him, handing him a chicken leg. He hesitated a second before taking the offering and eagerly biting into it.

Chloe smiled to herself. She should have brought that extra blanket too.

"I'll find it." he replied, directing the stallion around onto the side road heading west.

That had been several hours ago. In fact, Chloe was sure they had passed this lake before.
Twice.