Velvet Embrace (67 page)

Brie did flinch then, seeing the cold glitter in his eyes. "We are speaking of remote possibilities," she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the quaver from her voice.

"Not so remote. You are young and healthy."

"Well . . . , that will be my problem, not yours."

Dominic's jaw hardened, as if he were considering using physical force to persuade her. But then he abruptly released her and stepped back.

Brie watched him uncertainly as she rubbed her arm. She had wanted to wound him as she had been wounded, but now she knew she couldn't leave without explaining her reasons for refusing him.

"Don't you understand?" she whispered. "I will not, cannot tie myself to you in a loveless marriage. You would never forgive me, nor would I forgive myself."

For a long moment, Dominic said nothing. When he finally spoke, his tone was as devoid of emotion as his expression. "Of course, you are right. The points against would win out in the long run. I wish you a safe journey." When she made no move to leave, Dominic gestured impatiently with his hand. "Go, Brie, just . . . go."

Brie turned and fled then, knowing if she stayed a moment longer she would break down completely. She didn't see the anguish that crept into Dominic's eyes as he watched her go, nor did she see how tightly he clenched his fists to keep himself from calling her back. Yet he stood and stared after her for a long while, listening to the silent echo of her retreating footsteps and wondering why his chest felt so achingly hollow.

Leaning back wearily against the cushions, Brie gave herself up to the ceaseless swaying motion of the coach. They were nearing the French coast, but the journey already seemed interminable since her parting with Dominic. Even so, time and distance had begun to work their healing magic on her fragmented heart. The acute pain had dulled to a mere throbbing ache, while the misery had faded to numbness.

Brie sighed. The exertion of pretending an interest in her surroundings during the past few days had been a severe strain on her frayed nerves. Yet keeping up an endless stream of conversation had provided occupation for her mind, and her attentiveness had helped reduce the frequency of worried glances which Katherine and Julian had showered upon her.

Realizing how uncharitable her thoughts were, Brie flushed guiltily. She ought to be grateful for the consideration her friends had shown her. Julian had been determined to entertain her, and Katherine had been equally determined to ignore the recent explosive events. Both had made her comfort and well-being their prime concern. Their affection for her had seen her through one of the most trying periods of her life, she admitted, stealing a fond glance at them both.

As the coach rolled into the yard of the inn where they were to stop for lunch, Brie made a concerted effort to shrug off her despondent thoughts. When Julian gave her an engaging grin as he handed her down from the carriage, she responded lightheartedly for the first time in days, giving him a bright smile,
then
turning to plant an impulsive kiss on Katherine's withered cheek.

A melee of carriages, horses, and scurrying
ostlers
impeded their progress as they made their way across the yard, and the common room of the inn was no less crowded. Brie and Katherine waited in the hall, while Julian beckoned to the innkeeper and ordered a private parlor and a meal.

From her position, Brie had a good view of the crowded taproom. When her gaze wandered absently over the occupants, her attention was caught by a slender, fair-haired man sitting at a table not two yards away. Dressed as a gentleman, the man appeared to be English, although what might have been a ruddy complexion had deepened to a dull red beneath his leathery tan. She was surprised to see him staring so intently at Julian, but when the stranger transferred his gaze to her, Brie experienced a shock. The hatred shining out of those hooded eyes was unmistakable. She shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to break away from his malevolent gaze, and clutched involuntarily at Julian's sleeve.

Seeing Brie's pale face, Julian abruptly ended his conversation with the landlord and ushered his charges up the stairs to a small parlor. Brie went directly to the hearth, holding her chilled hands out to the cheerful blaze. But in spite of the fire and the warmth of her fur-lined cloak, she found she couldn't stop shivering.

She couldn't explain her reaction, for she had never seen the fair-haired man before, yet for some reason he terrified her. It was only after lunch had been served and she had drunk several cups of scalding hot tea that her fear began to dissipate.

The meal was pleasant enough—braised veal with chive sauce, baked cod, goose pate, an assortment of vegetables, and an excellent wine—but Brie hardly tasted it. She spoke in monosyllables, if at all, while Katherine kept up a polite stream
of conversation with Julian.

Finally, though, Brie realized her silence was becoming obvious. Bestirring herself to contribute to the discussion, she asked Julian when they could expect to arrive home.

"We'll reach Dieppe by this evening," he replied, "and we should be able to sail tomorrow. They will be expecting us at
La Belle Fleur,
since I reserved rooms when we stayed there last week."

Brie listened to Julian elaborate their travel plans, but when she heard a squeak in the hall that resembled a creaking floorboard, she jumped and glanced wildly over her shoulder. The parlor door had been left partially open by one of the maidservants, and Brie stared at it as if she expected a ghost to waltz into the room.

Watching her, Julian frowned. He hadn't wanted to distress her further by being overly solicitous, but when her gaze remained riveted on the door, he grew concerned. "What is the matter, Brie? Dominic isn't coming. He's at least a day behind us since he intended to see Durham properly buried."

"Must we speak of that?" Katherine murmured, while Brie tore her gaze from the door to glare at Julian.

"Honestly, Julian. I wasn't even thinking of Dominic."

"Brie, I hope. . . . Well, no matter," he added with a shrug. "Your experience was far from pleasant, but it's over. You needn't ever see Dom again if you don't wish to."

When Brie heard the gentle consideration in his tone, a lump formed in her throat. Not wanting to make a fool of herself by crying, she rose from the table and began to gather up her cloak and gloves and reticule. Katherine and Julian shared a look of concern,
then
wordlessly followed her example.

They reached Dieppe just as the last lingering rays of sunlight faded. Even though it was twilight, the yard of
La Belle Fleur
was teeming with carriages and horses, and as their coach drew to a halt, several
ostlers
leaped forward to provide the excellent service for which the posting house was famous.

The landlord was just as solicitous. He sent a lackey to see to their baggage and then personally showed them upstairs to their rooms. Brie, noting her companion's weariness, told Julian she would help Katherine lie down. He nodded in reply, saying he would meet her in the private parlor in an hour for dinner.

Brie was just coming out of Katherine's room when she heard a voice call to her in a harsh whisper. She turned, searching the shadows in the corridor. When a man stepped forward into the flickering lamplight, Brie's hand flew to her throat. She had no trouble recognizing the slender, fair-haired stranger from the inn where they had stopped for lunch—and he had the same paralyzing effect on her now as he had had then.

He reached her in three strides, moving with deceptive speed,
then
grasped her arm as if to prevent her escape. His action was unnecessary, though. Brie could not have moved had her life depended on it.

"Mademoiselle," he repeated in that same urgent whisper. "You are a friend of Dominic
Serrault
, Lord Stanton?" He spoke in French, but when Brie didn't utter a sound, he switched to English. "Come, answer me. Are you Miss
Carringdon
? Do you know Stanton?"

When she managed to nod, the stranger relaxed. His eyes darted once around the hall,
then
returned to Brie as he spoke again.

Brie had trouble following what he was saying, but her heart lurched when she realized there had been an accident. Dominic had been badly injured and had called for her, the man said. She must come at once.

Brie swayed, feeling suddenly faint. She made no protest when the stranger's grip tightened on her arm, but allowed him to lead her downstairs and out into the crowded yard. A closed carriage was waiting for them. The stranger urged Brie into its dark interior, then climbed in after her and slammed the door.

The coach was moving rapidly away from the inn before
Brie
belatedly
came to her senses. She should have discovered their destination, she realized. At the very least she should have told Julian she was leaving.

She was about to ask that the coach be stopped when the fair- haired man spoke from the opposite seat, saying that Dominic would be grateful for her presence. Although Brie couldn't see his face well in the darkness, she caught a note in his voice that sounded oddly like amusement.

Realizing suddenly that she had been duped, Brie silently cursed herself for being a fool. There had been no accident. Dominic was in no danger. This was some kind of abduction, and she had let herself be led away like a sheep to slaughter.

She opened her mouth to give her abductor a scathing denunciation, but then thought better of giving herself away and clamped her lips shut. Perhaps if he thought he
were
dealing with a distressed female, she would stand a greater chance of escape.

Cautiously, she felt for her reticule with its hidden pistol. When she discovered the strings were no longer looped around her wrist, she realized the stranger had somehow taken it from her. Repressing a feeling of panic, she told herself to wait for her chance, then bit down hard on her lower lip till she could taste blood, hoping that the pain would keep her more alert.

The stranger must have sensed a change in her, however, for he let out his breath in a slow chuckle. "I was wondering when you would catch on. I had heard that you were clever, Miss
Carringdon
, but I assumed Martin was mistaken when you were so naive as to come without a struggle."

Brie didn't answer. She didn't trust herself to speak without her voice trembling.

"Of course, I already had reason to doubt Martin's report," the stranger continued. "Stanton never has held cleverness as a prerequisite for his . . . women, if you will forgive me for saying so."

Goaded by his insult, Brie found her tongue. "You can hardly expect forgiveness, sir! And certainly not before you
tell me who you are and what you want of me." She could feel his eyes raking her in the darkness. His reply, when it came, repelled her but really didn't surprise her.

"Surely you have guessed, Miss
Carringdon
. I am Charles
Germain
. I expect you recognize the name, even though we have never met before. As for what I want . . . I want Dominic
Serrault
. And, now that I have made your charming acquaintance, I would be less than a man if I did not want you as well."