What Wild Moonlight (25 page)

A look of appalled understanding crossed Katya’s features. “Would your brother hate you enough to do something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Nicholas admitted quietly. The thought that it might be Richard plotting against him burned in his belly like a lump of blistering lead. But no matter how he tried to convince himself that the very suggestion was absurd, he couldn’t dispel the notion that it might be true.

“Sometimes I don’t know which would be worse,” he said to Katya. “The thought that Richard would hate me enough to fake his own death and conspire against me, or that he came to me desperate for help and I refused him.”

“In either case, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Wouldn’t it?” he countered sharply. Refusing to allow himself to vent his anger and frustration on her, he drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it. “There is a third possibility,” he said. “One I hope you’ll help me prove. I may yet discover that I have an enemy I am unaware of. Someone who moves in the same circles as I, someone who knew both Allyson and Richard. Someone who is here in Monaco right now, watching every move we make. Someone who will strike against me again—only this time I am prepared.”

“That’s why you involved me,” Katya surmised. “To find that person.”

“Yes.” He hesitated, then said firmly, “Even if it is Richard who is behind the plot. Sometimes I think that the worst part of this is not knowing, not having the answers to what truly happened.”

“I would imagine so.”

“Now that you know the whole sordid story, I won’t blame you if you want out.”

Taking her silence for an assent that now that she understood the depth of his debauchery she wanted nothing more to do with him, he nodded firmly and continued in a businesslike tone, “Very well. My earlier offer still stands. As of noon tomorrow I’ll see to it that you are provided with a train ticket out of Monaco and enough money to comfortably settle your parents’ debt. Will that be satisfactory?”

“No, Lord Barrington, it will not be.” She brought up her chin, her lavender eyes glistening with steely resolve. “I didn’t run earlier, and I’m certainly not going to run now.”

“If I could offer you assurances that you’ll be safe no matter what happens, I would. But I can’t do that.”

With an impatient wave of her hand, she brushed that away as though it were a matter of little import. “Nothing’s changed,” she said briskly. “You’ve simply made the picture a little clearer. And might I add that you should have done so days ago.”

Relieved beyond measure that she wasn’t leaving, Nicholas nodded, silently accepting her reproach. “Very well then. Henceforth, there shall exist nothing but complete honesty between us. Are we in agreement?”

For just an instant, an emotion that looked remarkably like stark dismay flitted across Katya’s face. Or perhaps it was simply a trick of the moonlight, for the emotion vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing in its place but solemn composure. “I intend to see this through,” she repeated.

Nicholas studied her for a long moment, aware that she had neatly avoided his own pledge of complete honesty, and wondered what she was hiding from him. But there had been enough revelations to the night already. His attention slipped from Katya to the scene surrounding them: the sickle moon hanging low in the sky, the gentle snort and nicker of the horses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below. “We seem to constantly find ourselves standing on the cliff’s edge, do we not?”

She sent him a soft smile. “It would appear so.”

“Then I suggest we adjourn to safer ground.” He handed her into his coach, and they wordlessly made their way back to his villa.

Nicholas sat alone in his study, nursing a brandy and listening to the late-night sounds that echoed through the villa Katya had retired to her room hours ago, but he was too restless to even attempt sleep. Instead he retreated to his study to try to bring some semblance of order to his chaotic thoughts. Thus far he was enjoying little success.

The portrait of his father seemed to glare down at him, watching his every move with haughty arrogance and stern disapproval. Nicholas returned the stare, lifting his glass to the portrait in a mocking toast. He had always thought that Richard had inherited the worst of his father’s traits. His selfishness, his recklessness, his childlike excesses. But perhaps he was more like his father than he wanted to admit.

For wasn’t it unmitigated selfishness—and nothing less—that caused him to experience such immense relief that Katya had chosen to stay? If Nicholas had any conscience he would send her away and out of danger. But something about her kept drawing him back. From the day they had met she had remained on the edge of his mind, filling his thoughts and teasing his senses. If he closed his eyes he could smell her hair, hear her voice, see her eyes. He could taste her lips and feel her skin. She seemed necessary to him. As necessary as the air he breathed or the water he drank. It was a sensation unlike anything he had experienced with any other woman.

He took another sip of brandy. While the fiery liquid rolled across his tongue he imagined what might have happened had he and Katya met elsewhere, under entirely different circumstances. But he could imagine her in no other place. Nicholas was not one to put much store in either luck or destiny, but neither was he immune to the pull of fate. And it felt as though fate had brought them together in Monaco for a reason—whatever that might be.

At the sound of a clock chiming the early hour of two in the morning, he set down his glass and stretched, taking it as his cue to retire. But then another sound caught his attention.

That of a soft footfall creeping past his study door.

He frowned, listening. It was too late for the servants to be about, Katya had gone to bed hours ago, and the Comtesse would never have come to pay a call at this hour. Nicholas felt his muscles tense as a furious certainty gripped him that the person who had stolen the scroll had returned for something else. The intruder’s steps hesitated in front of his door, then continued stealthily on. Nicholas slowly rose from his chair, left his study, and quietly followed.

He recognized Katya immediately. Her hair was unbound, streaming down her back in a wild profusion of rich ebony curls. She wore a white dressing gown that was tightly cinched at the waist. The long sleeves had been rolled up and the hem trailed past her ankles. She was entirely engulfed in the thick folds of smooth white cotton, giving her the seductive appearance of a woman who had hastily donned her bedsheets rather than her clothing.

She moved silently through the villa, exiting through the glass doors that led to the terrace and the gardens beyond. Nicholas followed at a discreet distance, reluctant to make his presence known. The fabric of her dressing gown took on a nearly translucent glow in the moonlight, making it clear that she wore nothing beneath. As she moved he saw the shadowy outline of her slim, lithe form. The gown billowed about her as though dancing in the breeze, causing the tantalizing scent of her skin to drift back to him. She was an elfin enchantress, a barefooted sprite who lured him out of his home and into a moonlit garden.

Katya was clearly familiar with the grounds, for she moved with a stride that was unhesitating and purposeful, as though she had a specific destination in mind. Finally she stopped at the deteriorating gazebo that had once been his mother’s sanctuary. It jealously occurred to him that she might have scheduled a rendezvous with another man. As that dark thought took root, he watched her step into the elevated gazebo. She rested one hand on the wooden rail that flanked her and looked out over the gardens. But her eyes were unseeing, as though she were lost in inner thought. Moreover, there was a stillness about her that indicated she was content in her solitude; that she was looking for no one.

“Katya,” he said. He called her name unthinkingly, with no purpose but to make her aware of his presence.

She gave a sharp gasp and spun around. He knew the instant she recognized him, for a look of relief entered her eyes and she gave a light, shaky laugh. “Oh, it’s you, Nicholas.”

He left his place in the garden and entered the gazebo, coming to stand beside her. Softly he said, “That is the first time you called me by my given name without my demanding it.”

“Is it?” she asked. “I am surprised you would notice.”

“I notice everything about you.”

She quietly searched his gaze; then she turned away, self-consciously tightening the belt on her dressing gown. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was in my study and heard you walk past the door. I thought it might be an intruder and followed.”

She nodded; then they stood together in silence, absorbing the sights and smells of the gardens. “Do you come out here often?” she finally inquired.

“Never.”

A look of mild surprise showed on her face. “Why?”

“I suppose because my attention is not needed. I have a staff that tends the grounds.”

“You never come out here just to enjoy the beauty?”

“No.” He had always associated this part of the villa with his mother. When she died, the joy of the gardens had died with her.

“Hmmm,” Katya murmured, studying him thoughtfully. She turned back to the gardens. “Your staff does a remarkable job. Except for this one spot.”

He followed her gaze and nodded. “So I see. The roses are dying.”

“Not dying,” she corrected softly, “just failing to bloom.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes. According to the Comtesse, an important one.” Before he could puzzle out the meaning of her words, she continued, “I mentioned to Jeremy Cooke that your roses wouldn’t bloom. He suggested that we feed them blood.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know it sounds rather ghastly, but he said that there’s an element in blood that enriches the soil. Apparently he has seen it work.”

Nicholas leaned his shoulder against one of the tall beams that supported the gazebo’s roof. “Did he suggest whose blood we use? I would offer mine, but I happen to be using it at the moment.”

A small smile touched her lips. “That does leave us in a bit of a quandary, doesn’t it?”

They stood together in silence, listening to the sounds of insects buzzing and chirping in the garden. Finally Nicholas said, “What are you doing out here?”

She gave a light shrug. “I couldn’t sleep I thought a walk and some fresh air might help.”

“Something wrong?”

Katya said nothing for a long moment, then she turned and faced him. Her lavender eyes glistened with a luminous inner glow as she replied, “I thought you might come to me tonight.”

Nicholas felt his pulse skip a beat as desire leaped to life within him. “And if I had?” he asked. “Would that have been good or bad?”

“I couldn’t decide. I suppose that’s what kept me awake.”

“I see.”

She turned away, running her hand along the smooth wooden railing that encircled the gazebo. “I thought at first that what was happening between us was so new, so different from anything I had ever experienced. But then I realized that that wasn’t the case at all. That that’s why it seemed so familiar. It’s happened before.”

He frowned, distinctly displeased with the notion that she might be comparing him to her staid, cuckolded William. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What do you mean?”

Her lips curved in a smile of dreamy reminiscence. “Once when I was a child I was playing in the ocean. The water was totally calm and smooth as glass, but slightly chilly. I was alone in the water and therefore cautious, keeping sight of the beach as I swam, careful not to go too far out to sea. Suddenly I felt this odd, strange current of warm water wrap around me. It started at my toes and worked its way up to my chin, engulfing me completely in its warmth. Before I knew what was happening the warm current had dragged me out to sea.

“It didn’t happen immediately,” she said. “But slowly, bit by bit, as though the current were taking me in its embrace. Although I knew it was dangerous, it was also strangely comforting and exciting. I didn’t want to leave the warmth to return to the chilly water that would send me back to the shore and safety I was floating, free, exhilarated. After a few minutes, I couldn’t fight it even if I had wanted to. The current had become too strong.”

“What happened?”

“A local fisherman recognized my plight and reached me in time to pull me aboard his boat.”

“Is that who I remind you of? The fisherman?”

Her gaze locked on his. “You’re the current,” she replied. “Warm, smooth, and dangerous. I’m afraid you’ll draw me so far out to sea that I’ll never again be able to reach the shore.”

He studied her for a long moment, then said in quiet understanding, “Would that be so bad?”

She shook her head in an expression of helpless uncertainty. “I don’t know. I’m a different person when I’m with you and it frightens me. I feel this strange sense of letting go, of drifting away.”

“Have you always been so tightly in control?”

“Yes.”

He moved toward her, closing the distance between them. With one hand he reached out, his fingers softly stroking her temple. “Until now.”

Her eyes searched his. Her small pink tongue darted out as she nervously licked her bottom lip. Then she nodded. In a low, raspy voice, she whispered, “Until now.”

Nicholas wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him. The soft curves of her body yielded instantly to the lean, muscular firmness of his. He searched her face for any sign of hesitation, half expecting her to pull away. But he read nothing but wary eagerness and the same glimmer of raw need that had been building within him from the day they met.

He lowered his head, moving his lips over hers. His touch was gentle at first, lightly tasting and teasing. But this kiss of sweet exploration quickly sparked and burned with dark, possessive fire. He couldn’t get enough of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the scent of her skin. He increased the pressure of his jaw against hers and slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

Katya matched the ardor of his kiss with unrestricted passion. She lifted her arms and locked them around his neck in an irresistible combination of innocence and sensuality. Her body, soft and yielding, leaned into his as she mimicked the rhythm of his kiss. As his excitement grew, Nicholas drew her closer, tracing the delicate line of her spine from her neck to the small of her back. He cupped her buttocks, caressing the firm, round globes; then he brushed his fingers along the tops of her thighs. She responded with a soft, purring moan issued from deep within her.