One With the Shadows (20 page)

“The stone doesn’t want to go to Transylvania. It wants to go back to the desert.”

He frowned. But he didn’t say that stones don’t want things. He didn’t ask which desert.

“Not just the desert, though. There were other jewels there. Together they seemed … alive. And it was … a temple? Maybe. Dark and underground. That’s where you must take it.”

“I can’t.” His voice was flat.

“What, you don’t have boats?” He was just being contrary. The stone
had
to get back to the desert. She could feel its need even now.

“Of course I have ships. I still keep a small fleet at Amalfi.”

How wrong she had been to think him a struggling gigolo. “Well, then. It’s settled.”

“I promised I’d take it to Mirso.”

Now he was just being difficult. “Take it to the desert, Gian. Avoid the dungeon.”

“Or maybe the dungeon you saw is in the desert. I’m won’t play that game.” He got out of bed and pulled on his breeches. His expression said he was struggling with something. Then it hardened. “I must make arrangements to go.”

She felt herself shut down. “I must as well. I’m sure the draft on your mother’s bank is ready. I’m not giving you the stone until I have it in my hand.” Why had she said something like that? She hadn’t even been thinking about going yet. She’d forgotten all about England. Maybe because he was leaving her just like he’d left every other woman in his life. Just like she’d been left so long ago. She didn’t want to be like all the other women in his life and she didn’t want to be the one who was abandoned. The best way to do that was to let him know it was really she who was leaving. She wouldn’t wait and wonder if he was in some dungeon somewhere …

“Stay with my mother until I get back. I’ll escort you wherever you want to go myself.”

“Who knows if you’ll
be
back?” she said, taking the stone and putting it back in her reticule, just to escape the need she felt emanating from it. It didn’t work.

He set his lips together. “Then my mother will escort you.”

She raised her brows. “I hardly think so.”

“You don’t understand.” He pulled on his shirt hastily. “If Elyta thinks you might have the stone, you are not safe outside our protection.”

She wanted more than anything else to shout, “Then stay and protect me.” But she didn’t. His bloody honor wouldn’t let him. And she didn’t want to be just an … an obligation. He was so bound to his horrible compass they would never suit. Suit? They had no future together. She was weak enough to imagine he might care enough to stay with her. Not likely. So he might as well go and be done with it. “Very well. Your mother will escort me.” She had
no
intention of waiting around for his mother to pack what would no doubt be enormous trunks and muster an entourage for a stately journey back to England. But he need not know that.

His shoulders relaxed visibly. He looked at her, once, with such tristesse in his eyes it startled her. And then he smiled. “Thank you. Thank you for that.”

She looked away.

He hopped on one foot and then the other as he pulled on his boots. “I’ll see if Mother has received the draft.” And he was gone.

She found herself somehow sitting on the carpet just where she’d been standing, as though she’d been deflated.

That was it, then.

Twelve

His mother was sitting at her writing table when Gian burst into her apartments. The deep rose satin of her dress spread out around her in lustrous folds.

“Did you get the draft?”

Her quill scratched across the heavy paper for almost a minute before she deigned to answer. Gian had a premonition of trouble.

“Yes,” she said finally, sitting back. “As you would know if you were not locked up day and night in our young guest’s room doing who knows what.” She frowned at him. Then she sighed. “Or I suppose everyone does know what.”

Gian flushed. “I did not mean to make trouble for you.”

“You never do,
cara mia.
”

He took a breath. He must go carefully here. She wanted to take the stone to Mirso for him. He couldn’t allow that. “I crave a boon, Mother.”

“I suspected as much.” She looked him square in the face. “You intend to go to Mirso and you want me to take care of your lady love.”

“Yes.”

“You are an honorable man. I’m proud of that. But in this case I must insist that I go with you.” Her eyes turned pleading. “You are my son, Gian. Precious to me and made more precious by the fact that children are so rare for us. So I will see you through this mission of yours. Your paramour can stay here until we return. Elyta won’t pursue a mere human.”

“Kate won’t stay without one of us to keep her here.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Don’t you understand? If anything happens to her, my life will mean nothing to me.”

“If something happens to you, I would be the same.” Her voice was adamant.

He chewed his lip. Should he tell her? How could he not? It might be the only way to get her to stay with Kate. “I’ll be safe from Elyta.”

“And why is that? She’s older.”

“I … I have been exhibiting some unusual … abilities under duress.”

His mother frowned. Then she sighed. “Fires?”

Gian’s mouth actually fell open. “You knew?”

“You are what they call a ‘firebrand.’ That’s why Rubius sent you to North Africa.”

“But … but I only began starting fires in Algiers. How did you know?”

“Actually,” she said, putting down her quill, “you didn’t realize it, but you started fires the moment you came into your powers at puberty. That’s why I had you train with that Zen master. To gain control.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He felt betrayed.

“The first flush of hormones always brings it on in a powerful one. We thought it would pass. Rubius warned me that in your case it might return.”

Warned. That was an ominous word. “So I gather it isn’t the best news to have your only son declared a firebrand. Are there many of us?”

“I have known of only one. And that was long ago. He … died.”

“How?”

His mother cleared her throat and looked away. “His moods began to be … unpredictable. He started fires everywhere, anytime…” She trailed off. The vampire had gone insane.

“They killed him, didn’t they? The Elders?” Of course they did. He didn’t fit the Rules.

She nodded. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. I told Rubius that even if we couldn’t suppress it, you could learn to control it. It … it could be useful even.” She didn’t believe that. He could see the worry in her eyes. Maybe that was why she didn’t want him going to Mirso alone. Maybe Rubius and the Elders would kill him too. And if they did not? Was he doomed to sink into insanity, starting fires everywhere he went? It occurred to him that he had lived his life for the Rules, when by his very nature he was outside them.

“At any rate,” he said, “I can keep Elyta at bay. Keep Miss Sheridan safe until I return.”

She rose and gripped his arms. “I can’t let you go alone. You know that. Elyta will bring others. Even your abilities as a firebrand will not save you. How can I stand by and risk the stone falling into her hands?” She shook her head. “No. You will thank me for this in the end. And when it is over, your light o’ love will be waiting for you.”

He stared into her liquid brown eyes. She meant what she said. He bowed his head. “Then be ready to leave tomorrow night, Mother. We travel light and fast. No carriages. You’ll have to ride astride if you’re to keep up with me.”

“I can ride you into the ground.” She smiled.

“And the draft?”

She opened the drawer to her desk and took out an envelope. “Perhaps you should wait to give it to her until we return. That will keep her here.”

He set his lips. “I gave my word.”

“Oh, well then, that’s it.” His mother laughed. “Your honor is a little too precious to you, sometimes.” She handed him the envelope with the draft.

He smiled tightly and turned on his heel. Not too precious. He’d just lied to his mother. He stalked out of the room and shut the doors carefully behind him. He handed the draft to the first footman he saw. “Give this to Miss Sheridan, with my compliments. And you,” he called to another, “order my horse up from the stables.”

He was for Ravenna tonight, now, before his mother expected him to go. Only then could he leave without her. He’d take the jewel to Mirso by sea. He tried to keep his mind on his plans, but they kept darting to the fact that Rubius, the Eldest, had killed the other firebrand. Maybe Rubius had hoped Gian would be killed in Algiers. Was that why he had sent so few to defend it against Asharti’s hordes? Mirso did have dungeons. Plenty of them. And Elyta might well be in league with Rubius. Everyone knew he was besotted with her. Who said Rubius would keep the stone from doing damage? Might he not want it for himself? It would make a powerful weapon against other vampires. God, but he was getting as cynical as Kate.

Kate thought the stone wanted to return to the desert. Stranger things had happened lately than stones wanting things. And if anyone would know what the stone wanted, it would be Kate. She seemed incredibly sensitive to forces unseen.

Well, that would fool Elyta. She’d think he was going north, either overland through Bologna or to Ravenna harbor on his way to Mirso. He’d go south, to Amalfi and the Sahara.

*   *   *

It was full-on night. Kate couldn’t make arrangements for carriages or outriders until tomorrow, her acquaintance in Florence not extending to stables that would take nighttime orders. And she couldn’t depend on the contessa, who would no doubt tell her son every detail of Kate’s plans. But first thing in the morning she’d be off. She rang for a bath.

She thought the discreet knock on the door was Carina. But it was a footman with an envelope on a silver salver. “With il signore Urbano’s compliments, signorina.” He bowed.

The moment he was gone she tore open the envelope to find the draft. She clenched her eyes shut. Twenty thousand pounds sterling and another thousand in hard currency for her immediate use. He’d more than kept his word. Her dream had come true. Only that wasn’t her dream anymore. All the draft did was make her feel small. He wouldn’t be back to her room tonight. She knew that. By this draft he had fulfilled his obligation. He was now free of her.

But no … she still had the stone.

The scent of cinnamon and something else wafted over her, and she felt the electric energy outside the door. There was another knock.

“Come in.” Her voice was steady. She was proud of that.

He stepped into the room. He was crisply dressed now, his unruly hair brushed back from his face severely. He hesitated, then bowed.

“You’re here for the stone.” She tried not to make it sound like an accusation.

He nodded. He had a pained expression. Was he so anxious to go?

She went to get her reticule.

When she returned, he had the little silver box out, and opened. That was right—he couldn’t touch it. She dropped the emerald into the black velvet lining. The emerald was practically screaming “desert.” He appeared to be oblivious.

He nodded once. “Thank you,” he said, voice hoarse. “For … everything. I hope you enjoy your village in England. If … if ever you require … anything, don’t hesitate to write to me.”

Oh, that was rich. “I will certainly do so.” He must realize that was a lie.

But he only nodded once, and let himself out.

She wouldn’t wait for his mother to escort her home. She didn’t want an escort. She didn’t want a single reminder of Gian Vincenzo Urbano, ever.

*   *   *

Damn him.

Kate sat in the carriage as it creaked and rocked, fuming. It was evening. In spite of her best intentions, it had taken her almost all day to hire a carriage and outriders on her own, to bribe a servant to carry her trunk quietly down to the small side door where the carriage waited, and to finally set off. It was fifty miles to the sea and Livorno, a small port city on the west coast where she might find a ship to England. She clutched her reticule with the draft, the money and her cards in it tightly.

And now she was having second thoughts. It was all his fault.

It was his fault because, as she thought about their time together, she realized he was the only person who had ever been generous to her without wanting something in return. Oh, he wanted the stone. He had made no bones about that, but he had paid her fairly for it. He had wanted to bed her, but she had gotten the better of
that
bargain without doubt. He had thought of her welfare by trying to get her to stay with his mother, and when she rejected that offer, he had offered to coerce his mother into escorting her. She opened her reticule and ran her fingers over the tarot deck. They represented who she was. A predator, a charlatan, self-contained and self-sufficient.

The shadowy hills of Tuscany rolled by, the red poppies that blanketed the fields now closing in the fading light. The perfume of star jasmine was heavy and sweet in the air. She couldn’t decide
what
to think now. True, he had left her. But maybe that was only because his overdeveloped sense of honor demanded he discharge the duty he had promised. Was such steadfastness something to be despised?

And he told her he would return. If anyone kept his word, it was Gian Urbano. But she had been so afraid of being abandoned yet again, she had taken fright. She was abandoning him first, without giving him a chance to prove constant.

So who was she hurting by refusing to wait for him?

He had never said he loved her. How could he ever love someone like her?

But he had said he would return for her.

What should she make of that? It occurred to her that she had not given him time enough to … to what? Grow attached? Ridiculous. One look at him and anyone could see why he would never be attached to her. But didn’t she hate the way people judged her just by her appearance? Was she any different in the way she judged him?

Oh, this was just dreadful. He might be killed by Elyta. The final abandonment. He couldn’t … feel about her the way she felt about him. The most he wanted was a frolic in bed. She couldn’t imagine going back to tell his mother she was going to wait until he returned.