Charmed and Dangerous (28 page)

He went down with a crash that seemed to make the whole house shake. “I was coming for you,” panted Gavin.

Laura decided that a nod was the best response. She still couldn't tell what emotion was animating his features. And there were sounds from above and from below. She handed him the cudgel. Gavin snatched it and started down the stairs, motioning for her to stay behind him.

The volume of sound increased as they went down. It was clear that some sort of struggle was in process on the ground floor. Gavin went more slowly. At the foot of the steps, he said, “Wait here,” and moved toward the source of the noises.

Laura followed. The scene they discovered in the front room was as unexpected as it was welcome. One giant Russian lay crumpled in the corner. Another was being held at bay by Hasan, who held a wicked-looking knife.

Gavin didn't hesitate. He strode forward and struck the man smartly with the cudgel. “There's another upstairs,” he said.

Indeed, Laura could hear feet pounding on the staircase.

“This way,” said Hasan, gesturing.

“I have to get…” Gavin half turned, saw Laura right behind him, and grimaced. He grabbed her arm, but Laura didn't need any urging. All three of them ran.

Hasan led them out a rear door and then through a twisting maze of streets and alleys where poorly dressed people scattered before them. When they finally paused, Laura was breathing hard. But there was no sound of pursuit. “How did you find us?” she asked Hasan.

“I followed you,” was his reply. He looked up at his employer. He hooked a thumb in Laura's direction. “
Tandek
,” he said and grinned.

Gavin looked disgruntled. Laura glanced from one to the other, trying to puzzle out what this might mean.

“
Tandek
,” Hasan repeated with more emphasis.

“Yes, all right,” replied Gavin. “Are we going to stand about here for the rest of the day?”

His grin widening, Hasan turned to lead them onward.

Half an hour later they reached Mr. Tompkins's house. Before they could ring the bell, a figure emerged from a nearby doorway and ran toward them. Gavin and Hasan turned defensively at once, but Laura called out, “Stop. It's Annalise.”

The girl joined them. “You are all right,” she said. She patted Laura's arm as if to make sure. “I could not go home until I knew.”

“We escaped. You did very well, Annalise.”

She glowed. “You will tell my father what I have done for you?”

“I'll do even better. Come.” Laura marched up the steps and rang the bell. “I'll ask Mr. Tompkins if he has work for you.”

Gavin watched her smile at the girl, wondering that she could think of this now, when she had just endured experiences that would have reduced most women to hysterics. There had never been any question of that, he thought with a smile. Hysterics were not part of Miss Laura Devane's repertoire.

He would have hated it if they were, he acknowledged. But her courage and composure were sometimes disconcerting. They severely limited a man's opportunities to come gallantly to her rescue.

Mr. Tompkins was waiting for them in the study. Before anyone else could speak, Laura recommended Annalise to the old man as someone who might be very useful to him in Vienna.

Tompkins seemed a bit disconcerted too, Gavin saw with distinct pleasure. He was happy not to be alone in this. And the old man's unshakable equanimity could be maddening.

“I will give the matter serious consideration,” Mr. Tompkins responded. “She certainly did well today.”

Annalise departed happily, and Gavin gave a quick report of what had happened. “If Miss Devane had condescended to inform me of her plans, she would not have been put in such jeopardy.” Surely Tompkins would see, now, that Laura could not be sent out alone, he thought.

Tompkins raised one brow. “Does Miss Devane have anything to add?”

He spoke as if he knew she did, Gavin thought.

Laura, who had been staring at the floor, raised her head. “Sophie Krelov is plotting an uprising in Ireland. She has been gathering the money for it here in Vienna, from those who oppose England's interests. It is to begin in six days.”

Gavin gaped at her. He had to run the words through his mind a second time to make sure he had heard correctly. “What sort of a fantasy have you—?”

“Count Slanski told me some of it,” Laura continued. “He has given her money. Other parts I overheard at a reception. But the most important piece came from Sophie's maid.”

“Maid?” exclaimed Gavin.

Laura nodded as if he had pointed out something important. “As I suspected, she is not really a maid. She has been with Sophie from the very beginning, more as a friend, I suppose. It was from her I learned that Sophie must be Irish.”

“She
told
you that?” Gavin was beyond astonishment.

“No.” Laura smiled slightly. “But she slipped and swore at me in Gaelic.”

“Gaelic.” He repeated the word because his mind was refusing to keep up with the speed of events.

“It is a language spoken in Ireland and—”

“I know what it is!”

Laura looked away from him. “The woman's name—Bridget—was another clue. And Sophie's red hair.”

“You are familiar with Gaelic?” asked Mr. Tompkins. Gavin was savagely pleased to see that he looked a bit stunned as well.

Laura shrugged. “My father was acquainted with a number of Irish horse breeders. I occasionally heard them speaking Gaelic among themselves.” She smiled slightly. “And they were prone to cursing. One of them taught me several phrases that got my mouth washed out with soap.”

Tompkins had recovered his composure by this time. He reached for pen and paper and wrote quickly. When he had sealed the note, he went to the door and gave it to a footman, who set off at a run at his muttered instructions. When he returned to his desk, he was smiling. He folded his hands on top of a pile of papers and regarded them both. “Well,” he said finally, “I think we must say that Miss Devane has done a very fine job indeed. Wouldn't you agree, Graham?”

Gavin felt Laura's gaze on him, an almost tangible pressure. He knew what she was feeling. He had been in the same position himself, waiting for a bit of praise, a validation from his superiors. She wanted him to admit her abilities, to acknowledge her. Did it perhaps matter even more because they had been lovers? he wondered. But he had to put that question aside. It complicated things far too much.

She deserved the acknowledgment. He couldn't deny that. Indeed, he was still astonished at what she had done. She had gathered the pieces and put them together brilliantly. But if he spoke the words, Tompkins would no doubt take them for approval of his mad scheme to employ Laura.

Gavin wanted to protest that he had been with her, that he had helped and protected her. But he couldn't take the credit for what she had done.

He glanced up. Tompkins was looking at him, one corner of his mouth quirked up as if he was fully aware of, and enjoying, Gavin's quandary. Laura gazed at him with a face full of hope and apprehension. Gavin felt a tearing sensation in his chest. He wasn't capable of ignoring that gaze. He wanted to be. But he wasn't. “She did an extraordinary job. I know of few men—and no women—who could have done it.”

The joy that filled Laura's face then was his reward and his punishment. She would get what she wanted, Gavin thought, and he would spend the rest of his, no doubt truncated, life in torment, worrying about her.

“A splendid job,” reiterated Tompkins, beaming.

Gavin couldn't bear any more. Muttering something about cleaning up, he fled from their smiles and from whatever mad plan Laura intended to propose next.

Laura was too full of emotion to try to stop him. Tears of triumph and love overwhelmed her voice. He had spoken for her, she thought. He had publicly recognized her skills, given her the thing she had so longed for.

“You really are an extraordinary creature,” commented Tompkins.

Laura swallowed. “Then you will have a place for me?”

“Very likely. We shall see.”

“See? But I—”

“I am expecting some developments that will allow me to make that decision.”

“Developments? In France?”

He smiled. “A bit closer than that.”

She tried to imagine what he could be referring to. Perhaps there was some important figure in Vienna who would be needing a governess? But Gavin filled her thoughts, pushing everything else aside. He had acknowledged her. Couldn't they be partners now that she had proved herself?

“Come and see me in the morning,” Mr. Tompkins added. “I may have a task for you.”

“What sort of task?”

He waved a hand. “It isn't yet clear. Come at ten, and we shall see.”

It was a dismissal. Laura climbed the stairs to her room. She tidied her hair. Where was Gavin?

She went to the door and opened it. The quiet of late evening lay over the building. No one was about. She walked down the corridor to Gavin's door and knocked. There was no answer. Indeed, there was no sound except the ticking of a clock on a side table.

A wave of loneliness washed over her. She had felt very close to Gavin over the last few hours. They had worked well together, she told herself. Surely he had noticed that? Where had he gone? She wanted to know how he felt. She wanted to know what her future held. But there was no one to ask.

* * *

Gavin walked quietly along the hall that stretched the length of the house. Passing the door of Laura's bedchamber, he paused unconsciously and listened. But no sound penetrated the solid oak. She slept just a few feet behind its panels, her black hair tumbled about her shoulders, her face smooth and a little childlike. Gavin stood alone in the middle of the corridor remembering other nights. The memories had a fire, and a sweetness, that went through him like a stiletto.

That was over, Gavin thought, making himself move. It had happened in some other realm of existence—outside reality. He had to stop thinking of her in that way. But in the depths of the night, the feel and the scent of her kept returning to his thoughts, and a part of him remained convinced that she was his forever.

He walked past the closed doors of the other residents, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Reaching his own room, he eased the door open and slipped through. He tossed his cloak on a chair and set the candlestick beside the bed. Shedding his coat, he stretched, easing tense muscles and the fatigue. Walking hadn't helped. He wondered how he would sleep.

Gavin was pulling off his shirt when he heard a sound behind him in the far corner of the room. After an instant's stillness, he gave no sign of having noticed. He merely continued removing his shirt, then bent to place it on top of his discarded coat, deftly retrieving his pistol from its pocket as he did so. When he had the gun in his hand, he straightened and turned, pointing it at the dimness in the corner.

“It's me,” said a familiar voice.

The pistol barrel wavered. Was he having some sort of hallucination? Gavin wondered. Or had he finally lost his senses completely?

Laura rose into the candlelight. She had been sitting in an armchair that was half turned away from the door, he saw. Slowly, he lowered the gun, still not believing this was real.

“I'm sorry I startled you,” she said. “I was waiting and I fell asleep.” She smiled sheepishly. “I suppose I'm rather tired.”

She couldn't be in his room, Gavin thought. He must be dreaming. And yet she looked quite solid and heartbreakingly lovely.

“But I needed to speak to you,” Laura said. “To thank you.”

He was seeing her on the island, with the strap of her shift falling away and her lips parted in surprised pleasure. He was losing his grip.

She walked toward him, the skirts of her silk gown rustling in the silence.

“I couldn't wait until tomorrow.”

She was so beautiful, Gavin thought. She had become so intertwined with his thoughts and emotions. He was suddenly conscious of the pistol dangling from his hand, of his bare chest, and of the unmistakable signals his body was sending him. “You shouldn't be here,” he said hoarsely.

“I know. But when you told Mr. Tompkins…”

She moved a step closer. Was she trembling? Gavin wondered.

“We have…I mean, it's not as if we never…”

Gavin forced himself to look away from her. He put the gun down and picked up his shirt. “I simply spoke the truth,” he managed.

“Even though you didn't want to.”

How did she know that? When he met her eyes, his heart seemed to turn over in his chest. If he didn't look at her, perhaps he could regain his senses, Gavin decided. Perhaps he could think clearly, even convince her that she had to go before he did something irredeemable.

Laura came closer.

“It meant a great deal to me,” she said.

Her perfume intoxicated him. His shirt slipped from his fingers and whispered to the floor.

“I don't think you can imagine how much,” she added.

He had to look at her. She drew his gaze, tugged at all his senses. “Yes, I can. Exactly as much as when I returned from my first real mission and…”

She gazed at him, recognition and understanding of their kinship blooming in her deep green eyes. It was as if he looked into some enchanted mirror, Gavin thought. He didn't see his own physical image, but a reflection of his spirit stood before him.

She murmured his name.

Gavin had never experienced such a state of tension. Desire possessed him, goaded him to crush her body to his. She was here in his bedchamber, it shouted. What else could she expect? She must want it. But other feelings held him rigidly motionless. They reminded him of her gallantry, her wise innocence. He wanted more than her body, he realized. “You have to get out of here.” The pounding of his pulse was making him dizzy.

“I had to tell you…”

He shook his head to clear it and took a step away from her. Somehow, his feet tangled in his discarded shirt, and he stumbled. He had gone mad, he thought. He never did such things.

“Are you all right?” She put a hand on his arm. The touch seared him; it was more than he could bear.

“Do you think I can stand this?” he said through clenched teeth.

Her eyes were huge and green as the depths of a forest. Her hand, feather light, moved up his bicep to his bare shoulder. Gavin broke. He pulled her against him and kissed her. All the longing he had been suppressing burst out and mastered him. He couldn't have let her go to save his life.

“Gavin.”

He didn't know whether it was a protest or a welcome. He didn't have the faculties to judge. He could only kiss her more deeply and woo her to come to him.

He felt her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair. Her body yielded to his embrace with a familiar pliancy that excited him even further. He let his hands explore the curve of her hip, the lithe suppleness of her waist—as he had wanted to do every hour since they had been separated. Pushing her gown off her shoulders, he set his lips to her pale throat, the rosy tips of her breasts. When she moaned his name, he pulled at the fastenings of her dress, not even hearing something tear as it fell away.

He was wild to touch her everywhere, all at once. With one swift motion, he stripped off her shift, then let his fingers travel from her knees to her collarbone. Laura's head fell back, eyes closed. He scattered the pins from her hair and let it cascade down over her shoulders.

She swayed a little. He picked her up and put her on the bed, stripping off his boots and breeches almost before he let her go. When he joined her, she reached for him and raised her mouth to his kiss, her lips parting under his and demanding more even as they yielded.

She was rose and ivory in the candlelight. Her hair gleamed blue-black. Her hand drifted down the muscles of his stomach and then caressed him in a way that made him gasp. “Don't,” he murmured, afraid he would lose control.