Charmed and Dangerous (18 page)

“Who would you put in his place?” asked Gavin softly.

“He who belongs there—the emperor!”

The other men murmured their approval.

“Bonaparte abdicated.”

“Words on a piece of paper, forced on him by a pack of rabble. It means nothing.”

“So you intend to restore him?”

“I do,” was the reply. “And then…many things will be possible.”

“When does he land?” inquired Gavin in a deceptively even tone.

Michael gave him a crafty glance. “That is not for you to know. You are out of this game, Graham. Checkmated very neatly by our little Sophie.”

Laura risked a glance, but Gavin's face showed nothing.

“And now, we must part company. We have many things to do, and your presence is…awkward.”

“Let Miss Devane go,” said Gavin.

“Go and report to your friends? I fear not. We are going to have to dispose of both of you.”

“What do you mean to do?”

Gavin didn't ask as if it were a real question, Laura thought. It was more of a challenge.

Michael grinned at him maliciously. “I believe we will let that be a surprise. Yes, I think so. Do you like surprises, Graham?”

Laura saw a vein standing out in his neck, but he said only, “As much as you do.”

Michael threw back his head and laughed. “You won't be surprising me this time. You are helpless. How do you like the feeling?”

The two men stared as if they could annihilate each other with a glance.

“About as much as I do, eh?” added Michael finally. “It is a pleasure beyond measuring to turn the tables on you, Graham.”

“We shall see,” he answered.

“I fear all has been seen, and foreseen.” Michael waved his hand. “Take them back.”

They were returned to their cabin by the group of crewmen. “You think he means to kill us?” asked Laura as she untied Gavin's hands. She tried to match his air of unconcern.

He shrugged as if he didn't want to answer.

“You don't think Napoleon can win?”

His hands free once more, Gavin turned to face her. “He is a master strategist. If he has the advantage of surprise…” He let the sentence trail off.

“We must see that he doesn't.”

The look Gavin gave her was unreadable. He had been full of inscrutable looks throughout this voyage, Laura thought. He had made it very plain, however, that he didn't want her here. He was incapable of admitting that anyone could help him, she thought. He believed he was the only person who could accomplish anything useful. It was incredibly annoying.

Being shut in a small room with Gavin Graham was like being caged with a tiger, she thought. He filled the cabin with an aura of menace. And though she knew it wasn't directed at her, that didn't make it any less difficult. He jumped whenever she touched him, she thought. She tried her best not to touch him. But the ship would unbalance her; the space was tiny.

Tucking herself into the corner of the bunk, Laura felt a qualm of guilt. She wasn't being entirely honest, she admitted. She didn't always avoid touching him as assiduously as she might have. Sometimes the excitement of it tempted her, and she let the motion of the deck sway her, let the cramped quarters seem an excuse. The jolt that went through her when their hands brushed or their bodies pressed together was so thrilling. It had become a pleasure she couldn't resist.

Had Sophie grown to feel the same way? she wondered. What was really between them? The countess was so beautiful. She was mysterious, exotic, dangerous—just the sort of woman Gavin was rumored to prefer. It was inconceivable that he would ever choose Laura over Sophie. Wasn't it?

Laura felt a tremor of fear. This was far more dangerous than any tiger, she thought. What had become of her celebrated detachment? And what was going to become of her, bewitched by a man like Gavin Graham?

The following afternoon Gavin heard the sound of the anchor chain rasping across the deck above them. After a while, the movement of the ship lessened. Straining his ears, he listened for the bustle of an Italian port town. But he could hear nothing except the familiar sounds of the creaking timbers and the exchanges of the French crew. Still, if they were anchored, there might be some chance for escape. Though he knew it was futile, he went over and tried the cabin door. The lock held as well as ever.

Footsteps approached. The key grated and the door was pulled open to reveal Michael and a party of armed crew members. “Come,” he said. “You are getting off here.”

As Laura scrambled up, Gavin said, “Where is ‘here'?”

“You will see soon enough. Come along.”

“If you had given me some warning, I would be ready to come,” responded Laura.

Gavin smiled slightly. Nothing seemed to quench her spirit, he thought. She really was one of the most amazing females he had ever encountered.

They were herded along the gangway and up a ladder to the deck. The simple touch of fresh air heartened Gavin. He had never endured imprisonment well, though he had probably suffered more of it than most honest men in England, he thought wryly. He remembered a time in Persia when he had nearly gone mad before escaping. He stretched his arms, and one of the sailors trained a musket on him.

“Come,” repeated Michael, urging them toward the ship's rail. Gavin looked over it to see a small island a hundred yards away. This, then, was their anchorage. On the waves below was one of the ship's longboats, with several crewmen already aboard. “Into the boat,” said Michael.

Gavin hesitated. But he could see no alternative. He turned and offered Laura a hand, helping her over the rail and onto the rope ladder that hung over the side. As she descended precariously, he threw a leg over the rail and prepared to follow. The muzzles of a number of guns moved with him and remained trained on him when they reached the smaller vessel. Michael and two of the other crew members joined them, and the crewmen rowed them toward shore.

The sea was calm, and they soon reached a tiny, ramshackle dock. Urged out by gun barrels, Gavin stepped onto it, giving Laura a hand as she joined him. Michael also came ashore. The sailors began unloading some boxes.

“There is a house of sorts at the top of that path,” said Michael. “We are giving you provisions.”

“You are leaving us here?” said Laura.

“I am giving Graham the same chance he gave me,” sneered the other.

Laura looked around at the rocks and sand that made up the visible landscape. “What is this place?”

“A forgotten little island that one of the crew knows. His uncle lived here until he died recently.” Michael glanced at Gavin. “Don't think you will escape it, my friend. No ships come here, and old Tomaso used to shoot at any local men who ventured to land, so now they don't.”

The sailors returned from wherever they had carried the boxes.

“All stowed?” said Michael.

One of them nodded.

“Good. Let's be on our way, then.”

The others climbed back into the boat and took up oars. Michael moved to join them, keeping his pistol carefully trained on Gavin.

He might be able to overpower him, Gavin thought. He gauged his chances of taking the boat if he held Michael hostage. They weren't good. And the longboat was a poor vessel for travel to the mainland. Laura would very likely be hurt in the ensuing melee. He stepped back.

“Very wise,” said Michael, getting into the boat. He grinned. “Enjoy yourselves.”

The sailors were already rowing. The boat pulled away from the dock and out into the deeper water. Gavin watched his only link with the outer world draw slowly away and wondered if there was anything else he could have done. Should he have tried to commandeer the ship? Impossible against so many.

“I never properly appreciated
Robinson
Crusoe
until now,” said Laura.

He gave a curt laugh. “We had best explore our new prison.”

The small stone house at the top of the path looked as if it had been there for generations. The slant of the roof did not inspire confidence, but when they peered inside, it seemed weathertight. One large room, with a wide fireplace at the back, held a battered table and chair, a sagging bed, and a tall cupboard. The windows of oiled paper let in little light. The boxes from the ship were piled in the middle of the floor. “It smells of mice,” said Laura.

“No doubt.” He surveyed the place again, seeing no likely dangers. “Wait here. I'm going to look around the island.”

“I don't want to wait here.” She came back through the door with him. “At least it is not too cold. There's firewood.”

He followed her gaze to a stack of twisted branches and logs beside the house. Nodding, he strode up the hill into which the building was nestled, looking for a broader view of their situation.

He soon found it. The crest wasn't far, and from there he could see all of the island, a dot of perhaps ten acres in a circle of blue water. The only signs of life were the departing French ship and a scattering of seabirds apparently nesting in the cliffs opposite. There were some twisted trees bent from the wind and some grass. Gavin heard a distant bell and spotted a little herd of goats grazing near the far shore.

“There must be water,” said Laura.

“I imagine we will find a spring near the house.” Gavin tried to keep his voice level, but a tinge of frustration crept into it. Unless another ship materialized, he was trapped here while great events were going forward outside. There was nothing he could do, no effect he could have. His knowledge of the threat to British interests was useless. It was a damnable situation. “Why don't you go and see,” he suggested to Laura. He very much wanted to be alone until he could get this raging impatience under control.

But, as usual, she couldn't accede to a simple request. “There are goats down there. Perhaps we can get milk.”

Gavin felt as if he might explode. “We did not come here to settle into domesticity,” he snapped. “We are prisoners. While you chase after goats, Europe may go up in flames!”

“I was only—”

“Interfering, as you never seem able to resist doing.”

“You are the most infuriating man I ever—”

“Do be quiet.”

Her green eyes blazed at him. Even in his agitation, Gavin noticed how lovely they looked.

“My ‘interference' might have been of real help if you had only been able to acknowledge that—”

“Will you go away!”

She looked as if he had slapped her. Standing straighter and raising her chin defiantly, she turned and walked down the path away from him.

At last, Gavin thought, and took a deep breath of the salt-laden air. Now he would be able to think. But for some reason, all he could think of was Laura's face and the look she had given him as she went—compounded of outrage and surprise and hurt.

She didn't understand, he thought, a bit defensively. He couldn't bear to be relegated to the sidelines when he had been right in the thick of it—this was abominable, insupportable. All his experience and work of the last ten years suited him for action. His fists clenched. Laura could have no conception of this. She couldn't possibly know this need to affect events, to be one of those who steered the outcome.

A gust of wind swooped over the hilltop. Clouds were massing in the northwest, promising a squall. Gavin sighed and forced his muscles to relax. He had been in worse spots, he told himself. He might yet find a way out. The important thing was to maintain control, be watchful, take advantage of whatever presented itself.

He took a long breath. Laura's presence was disruptive, he decided. He had not reacted so violently on past missions. She disturbed his concentration, distracted him from vital concerns. What was it about her that was so unsettling? She was beautiful, but he had known scores of beautiful women. She was intelligent and quick-witted, but again, such females were not wholly outside his experience. She had courage—too much perhaps. She was tenacious and spirited and damnably alluring. She matched him, somehow; she moved to the same rhythms and resonated to the same signals.

What the devil did that mean?

Gavin frowned, oblivious to the seabirds wheeling before the approaching clouds or the goats clattering over the rocks in search of shelter from the coming storm. He must take more care. Laura Devane was intruding far too much into his consciousness. He couldn't afford that sort of preoccupation. It was perilous for someone like him. Resolving to put a stop to it this moment, Gavin turned and started back down the path.

* * *

The rain began in early evening, a cold soaking rain that enveloped the house. Laura had swept the floor earlier and asked Gavin to make a fire, so the scene might have been cozy. It wasn't, however, Laura thought. Gavin sat brooding in the chair, staring at the flames as if they were ranks of enemies. It was like waiting for a storm to break, she thought, or for the arrival of news that was bound to be bad. The force of his personality made the very air seem charged. She felt that any word she spoke would spark an explosion.

She wasn't frightened. But she didn't relish the idea of a confrontation. He had already been quite rude enough. Eventually she would have to do something. They couldn't spend much time here in this kind of atmosphere. For now, however, she went quietly about the business of toasting some of the cheese their captors had left them and combining it with ship's biscuit into a kind of dinner. She didn't know whether to be glad or sorry that they would be drinking only springwater until they left this island.

The cupboard had revealed a few tin plates and cups and minimal cutlery. She filled two of the plates and set them on the table. Gavin continued to glare at the fire from the only chair in the house. After a moment, Laura took her dinner over to the bed and sat on the edge of it to eat.

“I feel as if I am back in the schoolroom,” she said tartly. “Are you going to go on sulking for a long time?”

Gavin grunted.

“You're very welcome. I was happy to go through the stores and prepare your dinner. I try to be of service where I can.”

He made no further sign. His back remained to her.

“We may very well be able to escape,” she ventured. “Michael might have been lying about ships coming here.”

He made a dismissive gesture.

“And what about the person who lived here? He must have had a boat of some kind.”

“Michael is no fool,” Gavin growled. “He will have seen to that.”

“Perhaps. We should search to be sure.”

“I will search. I have nothing else to do.”

Laura ate another few bites. “Perhaps we could build something?” she said then. “A raft, or a—”

“There is not enough wood on this island to build an ale cask,” he snapped. “You saw the trees; they are dwarfed and twisted by the wind. Rest assured that I have thought of all these things, and rejected them, already.”

“I
beg
your pardon.” Laura finished her meal in fuming silence. Then she took her plate to the table and set it beside his untouched one. “Do you intend to eat anything?”

“No.”

“Perhaps I'll just throw your dinner out for the goats, then.”

“You may send it to perdition for all of me.”

Laura clicked the tin plate down on the tabletop. “When I was a governess, if one of my charges behaved as you are, I would have—”

“Governess!” he jeered.

She stiffened. “There is nothing wrong with being a governess.”

“Indeed not. If that is what you really were.”

“What do you mean by that? I was a—”

“No woman who looks like you could have been a
governess
in the household of the Earl of Leith.” He finally turned around. His expression was as supercilious and sneering as it had been when they first met months ago. “
Governess
,” he repeated as if it were an obscenity. “What did the earl have you governing?”

“How dare you!”

Gavin surged out of the chair and took hold of her upper arms in a harsh grip. “Ten years, you said? You stayed with him for ten years? Why did he throw you out?”

Laura was so angry that a haze of red seemed to tinge her vision. “Leith never touched me,” she hissed.

“Really? He altered the habits of a lifetime for you? Of all the women who came under his power, he spared
you
his attentions? Why? Out of chivalry? Gentlemanly restraint?”

She twisted away from him. “He doesn't know the meaning of those words.”

“So I have heard.”

“As had I, before I took the position in his house.”

“And yet you didn't hesitate,” he sneered. “I suppose it was a kind of opportunity.”

“How dare you speak to me this way? What I have done or not done is none of your affair.”

Gavin stood quite still. His hands, which had been clenched, opened. His frown smoothed out, leaving behind something that almost looked like sadness. The fire in his eyes receded. He bowed his head then, conceding her point. “None of my affair at all,” he said.

“I took the position because it was the only one offered me at the time,” she added in clipped tones. “I had no money, just a few gowns suitable for
ton
parties. My father asked me for my pearls—to sell—and I gave them to him.”

“I beg your—”

“Pity is as insulting as your accusations,” she interrupted. “I haven't the least interest in it.”

He was silent.

Satisfied with this, she went on. “I was warned about Leith, of course. And I considered what I should do. I was young, but not stupid.”

“Never that,” he said in a different tone.

“I decided to make certain he never noticed me, and thus avoid having to fend off his…advances.”