Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (33 page)

Finally he told her, “I’ll go upstairs and see if I can persuade him to put you somewhere else. But I can’t guarantee anything. You’ve known him a lot longer than I have. Hell, I don’t have to tell
you
how stubborn he can be.

“So,” he continued, after flashing her a big grin, “I’ll do what I can.”

Briana nodded. “That would be very kind of you. And I would also appreciate your finding out about Charles—where he has been taken, who is caring for him. Please.”

It was all Dirk could do to keep from laughing aloud. Did she really think he was going to do her any favors after the snotty way she had always treated him? Acting like he was dirt?

He leaned closer, his voice warm with sympathy. “I’ll tell you what else I’m gonna do for you. I’m gonna leave you some light down here. I’ll find my way up in the dark, so’s you can keep the torch. That way, you won’t be scared.”

Trying to sound as amicable as possible, Briana murmured, “Thank you.”

Dirk smiled to himself as he turned to leave. He stared into the—ebony abyss.
Lord, it’s spooky down here,
he thought.

Dirk had been only too happy to hire on with Mason and travel to France. He damn well didn’t want to be anywhere nearby if the Coltranes figured out what had happened. He also didn’t think Colt was going to go around for the rest of his life with his head in the sand, ashamed over bedding his sister—or a girl he
thought
was his sister. Sooner or later, he would go home, find out about the sale, and then all hell was going to break loose.

Dirk didn’t figure on sticking around Mason for long, either, just long enough to get his hands on enough of that gold to live like a king.

As he gave Briana a final look, he promised himself that she was one good reason to stay around Mason a while longer—her and the gold. Running his eyes up and down her body, he licked his lips.
 

“Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you,” he said quietly. “That’s the way it works, you know.

You don’t get somethin’ for nothin’ in this life, and you can’t expect me to stick my neck out for you unless you’re nice to me. Don’t you understand the way it works?”

His hands snaked out to clutch her breasts and jerk her toward him, and in that moment his mouth clamped down on hers. She flung her head from side to side, nails digging frantically into his flesh. But she was no match for his strength.

Briana knew sheer, absolute terror. Panic welled up, choking her. Was he going to kill her? Or only torture her? He was a madman; she knew that.

She lifted her face upward to scream as loudly as she could. By some miracle, she might be heard. Someone would come.

The torch flame licked hungrily as the air was whipped by her flailing arms. Bending toward Dirk, she reached over his shoulder for the conelike end of the torch and wrenched it from its holder.

With all her strength, she brought the torch down and laid the flaming end against the side of his head. The acrid odor of burning hair filled the cellar as Dirk released her, screaming in agony.

He slapped at his head, batting at the flames in his hair. The torch fell to the floor, and Briana backed away, out of his grasp, shaking uncontrollably as he ran, screaming, toward the stairway.

In a moment, she was alone in that cold, silent crypt.

Gavin sat in his room, waiting for Alaina. He knew she was furious, and he was braced for a storm.

It wasn’t long before she pushed open the door and crossed the room, setting a tray on the bedside table so hard that the gasses of wine sloshed over, spilling burgundy stains on the carpet. “Ingrate!” she hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “Is this how you repay me for a life of luxury? Had I not taken you in, your kinfolk would have abandoned you to an orphanage. And this is how you repay me? By bringing a whore into our home? Did you really think I would tolerate such—”

“Shut up, Alaina.” Gavin sighed, bored. He was exhausted from the endless journey, and he was also hungry and thirsty. But more than that, he needed time to think, to plan.

He went to the tray and picked up one of the two glasses of wine, downing it in one gulp. He looked over the board of cheeses she had brought and sampled one, then cut a slice of another.

Alaina stamped her foot. “Did you hear me, Gavin? That whore must leave. I will not have her under my roof.”

Gavin looked up. Cool eyes flickered over her. She still had a nice body, and she was pleasing in bed. He felt a stirring of desire. She rarely protested his requests for bizarre acts and, all things considered, their love affair had satisfied him. But that was history. Was she so naive as to think their passion would last forever? That he would never desire a woman nearer his own age?

He motioned for her to sit opposite him, but she shook her head curtly. He reached out and jerked her down into the seat. “How many times do I have to tell you I am tired? I don’t feel like listening to nagging.”

Alaina lifted her chin defiantly, eyes cold.

“Aren’t you even interested in hearing how wealthy we are?” he asked. “I was afraid to write you all the details, for fear my letter would fall into the wrong hands, but it was all quite…interesting. And successful. We have reason to celebrate.” He lifted his glass in salute, but she continued to regard him icily.

With a sigh, he reached for the other glass of wine. “Very well. Pout if you wish. Surely you know,” he began, “that social position increases with great wealth. Can you imagine the loathing and revulsion there will be if anyone guesses our relationship? You will have to accept Delia as a cover.”

Alaina blinked, and the extremely long lashes she had ordered from Paris wavered like tree limbs. “Cover?” she echoed. “That woman is a cover to keep people from knowing about us?”

Gavin trailed his fingertips down her cheek, lying glibly. “Of course. My dear, you know you are the only woman I truly want, but society would shun us for our love. We must keep it a secret, especially now that I am well past the marriageable age.”

Alaina frowned. “I don’t want her here. And don’t lie to me and tell me you aren’t sleeping with her, because I know you too well to be fooled. I’m not stupid, Gavin,” she added nastily. “And now that we have the money, we can go away together, really be together—the way we should be. Please, Gavin, just get rid of her.”

He shook his head. “This is how it is going to be for the time being,” he said firmly.

“People will think she is your fiancée,” Alaina hotly protested. “Maybe she
is
your fiancée. Maybe the two of you are plotting to take all the money and run away together, leaving me with nothing. Gavin, you can’t treat me this way.”

She tried to stand up, but Gavin gave her a rough shove back into the chair, towering over her as he shouted, “Now, God damn it, for the last time, I’m warning you to shut up.”

Their eyes met, held, blazing with anger and sudden resentment. It was the resentment that surprised them. Where did it come from?

Alaina felt humiliated. Gavin could not love her anymore, she knew, not and treat her this way.

For his part, Gavin was disgusted. Who did she think she was, that he would tie himself to her for the rest of her life? So what if he enjoyed her body? He enjoyed plenty of women’s bodies.

They were all pleasing, he had found, if you just regarded them as what they were—pieces of flesh to be used at will. It was when they started making demands that they became, like Alaina, a liability.

He did not like the accusing way she was looking at him, so he slapped her. That provoked harsh, broken sobs, and he got up to get a bottle of wine from his cabinet in the corner. When he returned, he told her, “Either shut up and listen to what I have to say, or I’m going to give you a beating that will put you in bed for weeks.”

Alaina fell silent. He meant it, this abomination of a man who had returned to wreak misery on her.

She nodded. He flashed a smile, sat down, and poured himself a glass of wine. He began talking, telling her how he had succeeded in bringing back the
entire
Coltrane fortune. Proudly he described every delicious detail, and, after a time, it was as though he was musing out loud, for the pleasure and adoration of his own ears and no one else’s. Alaina might as well not have been in the room.

But she
was
in the room…and she was infuriated beyond belief by his love for himself. But worse was to come. He announced that he would be going to Greece soon. “I think it is best that Briana and I disappear for a while. We cannot arouse suspicion over our sudden windfall. Also, Travis Coltrane is in Paris, too close for me.”

Alaina’s eyes grew wide and her heart began to hammer. Risking another blow, she dared ask, “What about me? What will I do while you’re away? And why Greece?”

He reminded her of Count deBonnett’s relative who lived on the island of Santorini. “St. Clair left France, if I recall correctly, because he was wanted for a political crime. And when he left, he took the entire fortune of the local government with him. You remember your husband talking about him and his wealthy life in exile? Well, I do believe I will pay dear Cousin St. Clair an extended visit.”

“He was a distant cousin,” Alaina informed him coldly. “He doesn’t even know you.”

But Gavin was undaunted. “Money talks, my dear, and I have six guards with me, too. His kind of island isolation is exactly what I need for a time. I’m certain he’ll see it my way.

“Now then,” he continued as he poured more wine, “I want us—you—to host a lavish dinner party as soon as possible. I want all the gossips invited because I want the word spread that I am leaving France to return to America to live. We will say that you have received some money from a distant relative, enough to pay all the Count’s creditors and give you a nest egg. I don’t want anyone to know where I’ve really gone. When the time is right, I will return to you and we will move away from here, make a life somewhere else—perhaps in Spain.

“I cannot,” he concluded firmly, “live in constant dread that the Coltranes will come after their money. Maybe they’ll find out the truth about Dani.”

Jealous apprehension having gotten its hooks into her, Alaina asked, “Are you taking that woman with you?”

Gavin nodded. “And I’m taking Briana, too, of course. You will keep her brother here and tell people that she went with me as a maid to Delia. After a time, I will send word that Briana is dead, and then you can send her brother to an orphanage.”

He gave her a benevolent look. Smart Gavin had figured everything out beautifully, as usual.

But Alaina knew he was lying to her. He would never come back for her. She knew it.

Suddenly the château exploded with screams.

“What the—” Gavin and Alaina rushed to the door, and she flung it open in time to see Al, one of Gavin’s men, charging up the stairs, white-faced and shaken.

“Where’s the boss? I gotta see him,” the man cried. Delia stepped out of her room, and Al nearly knocked her down as he rushed straight for Alaina.

Gavin stepped out into the hail. “What the hell’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Trouble,” Al gasped hoarsely. “It’s Hollister. The bitch in the cellar…she set fire to him.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

A man stood in the narrow, cobbled lane, staring up at the château. A farmer pulling a wooden cart passed him, glanced at him, and quickened his pace. The man’s eyes were narrowed to dark, malevolent slits, and his jaw was set grimly.

“Want me to come with you?” his companion asked. For a moment Colt did not respond to Branch’s question. Then he said, “I’ll go alone.”

Branch didn’t like that at all. The way Colt had been behaving was spooky. “I think I’d better come with you, old buddy. You’re liable to go berserk and kill somebody.”

Colt gestured at him to stay where he was, and without another word, began walking slowly, warily, up the twisting lane that led to the imposing deBonnett château.

Branch stared after him. It had been a long, hard journey, and things were sure to get harder from here on. They had sailed from Norfolk, Virginia, because they’d heard of a German vessel that would be leaving for Europe and was capable of achieving a much faster crossing of the Atlantic than the luxurious passenger liners that sailed from Boston and New York.

Arriving in Southampton, England, they booked onto a smaller ship to cross the English Channel.

From Calais, they went by train to Nice, then bought horses to get them to the southern coast of France, and Monaco.

Branch was tired, for they’d had little rest since docking at Southampton. But he didn’t blame Colt for not wanting to stop. He knew that if he was in Colt’s boots, he’d be acting the same way.

Colt lifted the heavy brass knocker, then slammed it against the thick wooden door several times. He waited a second, then knocked again.

“All right, all right. I’m coming,” a woman’s voice called irritably in French. Once more, he was glad his mother had urged him to study the language. Otherwise, just getting to the château would have been much more difficult.

The door swung open, and Colt found himself staring down into the face of a woman who had surely been lovely once. But had her eyes always been so cold? He wondered whether warmth or tenderness had ever shone within their green depths.