Lady of Seduction (12 page)

Caroline bit her lip as she peered down into the foyer again. She shouldn’t care in the least what kind of trouble Grant was
in. He had certainly caused
her
enough trouble in her life. But she couldn’t seem to stay well away from him. And she also couldn’t seem to stop caring what
he did or whether he was safe.

She didn’t want to explore those feelings right now. It seemed far less dangerous to find out what was happening
in the castle rather than what was happening in her own heart. She turned and hurried toward the servants’ door before Maeve
could come back.

The back stairway was steep and narrow, lit by a few sconces that showed a faded carpet underfoot and peeling green paint
on the walls. Caroline ran down the steps, listening closely for any noise as she went. It would be most embarrassing to be
caught sneaking around belowstairs. But she wasn’t going to learn anything hiding in her room. At Killinan Castle, she had
learned that the servants always knew everything that went on.

At the bottom of the stairs, two hallways went off to the right and left. One was dark, but from the other, she could hear
voices and the clatter of china and silverware. She tiptoed along that one, ready to duck into one of the open, darkened doorways
at any approach. She passed the empty dining room, pantries, offices, and wine closet. But the voices were all from the cavernous
kitchen at the end of the hall.

Caroline slid behind a tall cupboard to watch as footmen rushed around with trays, a small, plump lady in a stained apron
stirred at a steaming pot, and Mrs. McCann stood at the center of it all waving her hands.

“No, Jimmy, don’t take that yet! You don’t have the claret,” Mrs. McCann shouted to one of the hapless footmen. “Is that soup
nearly finished, Mrs. O’Rourke? They’ll be going into the dining room soon.”

“I’m working as fast as I can,” the cook muttered. “We had to find extra vegetables to stretch it, and at this time of year,
too. No one told me we had to feed
four
extra mouths tonight, as well as the master and her fine ladyship. And what am I supposed to do for pudding?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. O’Rourke,” Mrs. McCann cried. “I wasn’t told there would be four of them, either,
or
that they would arrive today of all days. I knew that I never should have taken this job. No, not that bottle!”

“My lady! Whatever are you doing there?” Maeve suddenly said.

Caroline spun around to find the maid standing just beyond her hiding space. Maeve certainly walked quietly without her clattering
tray. Caroline grabbed her hand and tugged her into an empty closet.

“What is happening here, Maeve?” she asked.

Maeve shook her head in a bewildered gesture. “The master has guests.”

“So I gathered. But who are they? What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know, my lady. I’ve only seen one of them, and she’s not very talkative. Not to a maid like me.”

She?
Caroline felt a twinge of something like jealousy at this bit of news. But there was no time for such silliness now. She
pushed it away and said, “So it’s a lady?”

“Oh, yes, and one who seems to think herself quite fine. The bathwater I took up at first wasn’t hot enough, and now my hands
are too rough to fasten her fine silk gown. I’m to send Mrs. McCann to her right away.” Maeve’s sniff said what she thought
of such haughty behavior.

Had one of Grant’s elegant mistresses come back to him? “Did you hear this lady’s name?”

“No, my lady. But she’s not Irish. Not even English, I’d say. Now I have to go fetch Mrs. McCann or I’ll be in trouble!”

“Yes, of course.” Caroline let go of Maeve, still puzzling over her words. A silk-clad, non-English lady at Muirin Inish?

Oh, Grant, she thought.
What trouble are you making here?

Maeve hesitated at the door. “My lady, I would stay in my chamber if I were you. I don’t know who these people are, but I
don’t have a good feeling.”

Caroline thought of poor Bessie, dead on the cliffs. “I will be careful, Maeve, I promise. If you will do the same.”

Maeve grinned. “Oh, don’t worry about me, my lady!” She hurried away on her errand, and Caroline slipped back up the servants’
stairs and into the castle.

Barely had the door swung shut behind her when her arm was seized in a rough, steel-strong grasp. A hand covered her mouth,
and she was shoved back hard against the wall. Caroline screamed against the hand and kicked out in a rush of cold fear and
fighting instinct.

Her borrowed bedroom slippers made scarcely an impact, and her skirts wrapped around her legs, but still she fought on. All
she could see of her captor in the dim light was a deceptively slim figure, not as tall as Grant, and a cap of glowing gold
hair. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, as tight and suffocating as iron chains, and lifted her up.

She felt the unyielding wall at her back, and she couldn’t breathe. She remembered the Rebellion, when she was on the run
across the countryside with her family amid battles and destruction—and the soldier who tried to rape her sister. The memories
made her fight even harder, kicking and twisting against him. She managed to open her mouth enough to bite down on the soft
spot just below his thumb. She tasted the salty tang of blood.

“Foutre!”
her captor cursed in French. For an instant, a malicious glint lit his eyes, but then to Caroline’s surprise,
he laughed. “They do say Irish women have much spirit. I had no idea how correct they are.”

His hand slid away from her mouth as he examined the wound that she left behind. Caroline took advantage of his flash of distraction
to lunge her knee toward his crotch, but he dodged away from her. He laughed even harder.

He leaned closer. His lips lightly skimmed over her jaw, making her shiver. His caressing touch was somehow even more frightening
than when he had roughly grabbed her.

“I think I may enjoy my visit to this barbaric place far more than I anticipated,” he murmured.

Caroline thought swiftly. Her every instinct screamed at her to get away from this man. She was frightened, confused, and
angry all at the same time, in one dizzying jumble.

“Only if you want to duel with Sir Grant,” she said in a far more stern and cold voice than she could have hoped for. She
remembered whispered rumors of duels that Grant fought in Dublin over various scandalous women. Duels that he usually won
quite handily. “He is the greatest shot in all of western Ireland.
And
he is very jealous indeed.”

The man drew back to look at her with narrowed eyes. They were a celestial blue color, like angel’s eyes. “Jealous, is he?
And who are you that he should be jealous of, mademoiselle?”

Caroline swallowed hard. Her throat felt very dry and tight. “I am his mistress, of course. Who are
you
?”

He laughed and lowered her to her feet, but he still held tight to her waist so she could not escape. “How very unkind of
our host to keep such beauty hidden away. I see we were misled by tales of his isolated, monkish existence on this island.”

“He does not care to share—anything.”

He leaned close again, and she could smell the sweetness of his cologne. “We shall see about that,
ma belle.
”

Caroline felt a flash of temper and tried to twist away from him. His hold seemed to be casual now, yet she couldn’t break
away no matter how hard she tried. “Let me go!”

“Perhaps not just yet, mademoiselle. Tell me—why are you skulking around up here all alone? Are you in hiding?”

“I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Oh, I think you should.”

Suddenly Grant shouted, “LaPlace! What is the meaning of this?”

The man’s grasp loosened on Caroline’s waist, and she yanked herself away from him. She ran to Grant, who took her arm and
pushed her behind him.

The man, LaPlace, turned to Grant with a lighthearted smile. A ray of lamplight fell across him, and Caroline saw that he
was angelically good-looking, with a cap of golden hair and a face that was all high cheekbones and blue eyes. He was as handsome
as Grant once was—and probably just as deceptive behind that fine façade.

“I was returning to my chamber to change for dinner when I found this lovely little morsel tiptoeing around,” LaPlace said.
“It was most unfair of you to hide her away, monsieur. A ray of beauty in this tedious gray place.”

“She is no part of this business,” Grant said tightly.

“Ah, so she is here solely for your pleasure then?” LaPlace said affably. “She did say you were very jealous.”

Grant gave her a quick glance. Even though his hand was still hard on hers, she thought that she glimpsed a
glint of amusement deep in his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual chilly remoteness.

“I am certainly jealous where she is concerned,” he said.

“But surely, monsieur, that does not mean she must be shut away as if this was a Turkish harem,” LaPlace said. “She must join
us for dinner. I assure you, she need fear no improper advances, now that we know the state of the
affaires d’amour.
”

“I am not dressed for dinner,” Caroline said quickly, thinking of the fine lady in silk that Maeve had waited on.

“We can wait for you,” LaPlace answered cheerfully. “I am sure Mademoiselle Victorine is not finished with her toilette yet,
either.”

“Come with me,” Grant said abruptly. He pulled Caroline with him down the corridor toward her chamber, his touch implacable
on her arm. She felt a frisson of fear, as if she had jumped from one dangerous captor to another.

“I look forward to seeing you again, mademoiselle,” LaPlace called after them. “I am sure we have a great deal to learn about
one another.”

“Like hell,” Grant growled. He kicked open Caroline’s door and pushed her inside.

Infuriated by such treatment, and by all the secrets he was keeping in this house, Caroline whirled around on him as he slammed
the door shut. She could barely see him in the sputtering candlelight. He was just a looming figure leaning against the door.
He radiated a simmering anger to match her own. The air crackled around them.

“What is the meaning of this?” she cried. “Who is that man, and how dare you…”

He answered by catching her in his arms and covering
her mouth with his. His kiss was hard, merciless, surrounding her with blistering heat. She fell into it headlong, passion
and anger boiling up inside of her.

She curled her fists into the front of his shirt, her mouth opening as his tongue plunged inside to taste deeply. He spun
her around to press her back against the wall. Her knees collapsed with the storm of emotion breaking over her, and he caught
her up in his arms.

He tilted his head away from her, and Caroline slowly opened her eyes to stare up at him in a daze. He smiled at her, an echo
of that old rakish grin that wreaked havoc on the ladies of Dublin.

“So I’m jealous, am I?”

C
aroline shoved him away. He stumbled back, his smile widening. She paced across the room, as far from the infuriating Grant
as she could get.

“What else could I say?” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to be grabbed by an amorous Frenchman as soon as I stepped out of this
room. I didn’t have a clever tale prepared.”

That smile vanished, and the hardness crept back into Grant’s eyes. “I’ll kill him for assaulting a woman in my home. For
touching you.”

“But who is he?” Caroline cried. “Why is he here? What trouble are you in, Grant?”

“He is no one.” Grant moved toward her slowly, as if he thought she might slap him or maybe cry, and he carefully took her
hand in his. “And I am in no trouble. I merely have some business to transact with these people; then they will be gone.”

“What nature of business? He is
French.
”

“And you have no doubt heard wild rumors of imminent invasion, rumors that have been going around for years.”

Of course she had. She remembered that Grant had involved himself in complicated and dangerous politics before. And it seemed
that even if he hid from such complexities here, they had come to him.

Just as she had.

His grasp tightened on her hand, and he drew her slowly toward him. He gave her time to run away, but she went into his arms
instead. She rested her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes. The world was raging around her, and he was the only rock
she could cling to.

She felt his cheek against her temple, the brush of his hair on her skin. “Oh, Caro, I know I have never given you a reason
to trust me. Quite the opposite. But for now, I ask you to. Don’t go wandering the castle without me. They will be gone soon,
but until then…”

Caroline gave a rough little laugh. “You are very jealous, remember? I wouldn’t want to cause any duels of passion.”

“Thank you,” he said. Those two words sounded cautious, as if he seldom used them. “Just stay close to me and try to say as
little as possible to LaPlace and his friends.”

Caroline pulled back and looked up at him. “You will tell me nothing more about them?”