[Samuel Barbara] The Black Angel(Book4You) (9 page)

It was a curiously appealing habit, one he evidently carried on as he thought, for next he said, "I'm not entirely clear why your brother would face a trial. Men are killed in duels monthly."

"Yes." She sighed. "Unfortunately, Malvern was the son of the King's brother. His mother is… well-known to men at Court and in Parliament, and she's been quite insistent that the crime should be tried."

"Mmm. I see." He cast a single raised eyebrow toward her. "A pretty mess."

Riana suddenly imagined how it would go, the scandal sheets and the wags and the gossip at court. She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped, giving out a little moan. "Oh, God! I am so glad to have them home, but it has been so peaceful here—"

"St. Bridget!" he cried out, and took her arm. "What a selfish little twit you are! I'd expected better of a daughter of James St. Ives."

She looked up, startled.

His eyes narrowed. "Imagine what he'd think of you now! You're whining about scandal and embarrassment when your brothers have rushed home to try and save you from a marriage you evidently did not want. They slayed your lover at the risk of their own necks, and now again will face the repercussions of that act, and you snivel here about—frivolity."

It was not only her ears that burned now, burned red as berries by the feel of them, but her cheeks and forehead and chin. She yanked her arm from his grip and bowed her head in shame. He was right.

But she could not seem to find words to give him that, and only put her hands on her cheeks, faintly amazed when they did not seem hot.

Tynan stayed where he was and did not speak.

Finally, Adriana captured the racing of her heart, smoothed her skirt and turned back, lifting her chin. "You've a very sharp tongue," she said.

He had the grace to wince a bit. "Aye, too quick at times. I'd have said it more kindly if I'd stopped to measure my words," he added, his gaze direct, "but I'd have said it."

"It needed to be said."

"Will they hang?"

A quick terror pressed through her, and she raised her face to him. "I don't honestly know. It's more likely they'll be transported if they're found guilty." She swallowed. "Is that your wish?"

"I wish no ill on anyone, save the—" His mouth tightened and he halted. On his face Adriana again saw that fleeting, dark despair, and wondered what caused it.

Before she could begin to form opinions, he said gravely, "In this I offer my most earnest promise, my lady: I wish no ill upon your brothers. I will do nothing to harm their case, and all in my power to assist them, if you will but assist me."

Adriana met his eyes, searching his face for hints of duplicity. "I don't know why, but I believe you." She shook her head. "Though I cannot think what will be gained by my appearance in London. Seems it will only stir the gossip to a higher frenzy."

"'Twill serve them by reminding all you are no harlot, no scarlet woman, but a lady of good standing who was ill-used. It will show the true devotion that lives between you and your siblings." His lips pursed momentarily, and a shrewd expression came into his eyes. "And in truth, dear wife, I require your assistance in my own task."

In the distance a bell on the village church tower rang four times. Adriana looked up, startled to discover so much time had passed. "We must start back, or be late for supper." She lifted her skirts. "Come, tell me this task as we walk."

He joined her, lacing his fingers behind his back. "I have thought long on this today, and have devised a new plan."

"Yes?" She couldn't help smiling at his wish for prompts, and to her surprise, he smiled back as if in acknowledgment of his weakness.

"What did your father tell you of my plans?"

"Nothing, particularly. Only that you were ambitious."

"I've been thinking that with the right influence, perhaps I might locate a seat for purchase on the House of Commons."

"He did mention that. It's political power you wish to secure?"

A shrug. "Aye. What else?"

She considered. He was obviously well to do and did not need money. "But don't you already have a seat in the Irish parliament? Why would you wish to secure a seat in the English as well?"

"A new mountain to climb, I suppose." The words were light, and Adriana knew instantly they were pure fabrication.

"I see." They passed, single file, through a narrow bit of the path, and when he rejoined her, she said, "It is not an impossible task, though I doubt I will do much to further your cause. You keep assuming there is some value to my name, but all was erased—" She sighed. "—with the scandal."

"Leave that to me," he said, and smiled.

Perplexed, Adriana stopped for a moment. "What a puzzle you are." She scowled and moved on. "How came you to have such a fortune in such a beleaguered land, sir?"

"Well, I can tell you it isn't the land," he said grimly. "With the trade restrictions against our natural crops, linen and wool, we've had to be clever to find a means of feeding our people. My father built a glassworks that has grown quite profitable." He gave her a sideways grin. "I seem to have a knack for business. In the past decade I've built two more sites, and we employ nearly an entire county."

"Glass?"

"Aye, crystal and china. The very finest. I'll have some sent to add to your table."

Adriana realized suddenly that she rather liked him. Dangerous. "As you wish," she said, and determined to ignore him the rest of the day.

Tynan dressed carefully and simply for supper. His man, Seamus, had brushed his coat and put a burnished gleam on his boots. "Wish me luck, Seamus, old man," Tynan said, tucking Julian's ring in the pocket of his waistcoat.

"No good ever came of the English," the old man muttered.

"Not yet," Tynan agreed. But he whistled as he moved through the passageways. His rooms were in a spacious corner of the keep, and he took the narrow, winding steps to a newer wing, mulling his plan for this evening's meal.

A servant in the foyer directed him away from the simple room where the brothers had eaten this morning, and he entered a formal dining room. It was a dark room, a darkness exaggerated by heavy furniture in ebony and mahogany and even teak. Though long windows gazed toward the open expanse of lawns to the north, autumn was lull upon them, and with it, an early sunset. To offset the darkness, embroidery in bright colors enlivened the seat cushions and side-boards, and an enormous chandelier blazed overhead, all the candles in it lit. The light caught on the cut crystal, the fine place settings, and the snowy white cloth. Everyone but Adriana had arrived.

"Good evening," Phoebe said warmly, coming forward.

He bent over her hand. "Good evening."

She smiled and directed him to a seat to the right of Julian, who nodded politely and without warmth. "Spenser."

Gabriel held the other end of the table, which had been much reduced in size for the small group. Monique sat to her son's right, a red-patterned turban covering her hair. As if she felt Tynan's eyes, she swiveled her proud head and gave him a slow, calm nod, accompanied by the faintest of smiles, as if she understood his surprise. She seemed to occupy a strange position in this house—he'd thought her at first a servant, but she came and went as she wished. He wondered which side of the stairs she slept on.

"So," Ophelia said, lifting a goblet of wine. "Will you entertain us with stories of your travels, brothers?"

Indulgently, Julian smiled. "What would you hear, my pretty?"

"Everything!" she cried.

"Wait!" Adriana sailed into the room, breathless. "Do not begin without me." She rushed to take her place, directly opposite Tynan, and he found himself dazzled once more by yet another face of his bride.

Tonight she wore ruby silk, pattered in some way to make the light move in swirls over the fabric. It fit closely over bodice and waist, revealing her smooth shoulders, and it was cut low according to fashion, so swells of white breast crowded into the square neckline. A single red ruby lay upon that abundance like a drop of blood. Her hair had been swept into an elaborate coiffure, laced with jewels, and her cheeks were flushed, making her eyes seem deep and smoky.

She looked, he thought, like a masterful courtesan, like a woman ready to tumble at a moment's whisper into a bed, into wild kisses and wilder embraces. A woman who would drive a man mad with her abandon.

Here was the face that had captured her lover—the ill-fated Malvern. Tynan would lay money upon it. No man could look upon her in this mood without feeling the same surge of pure lust that filled his loins in this moment. He remembered the soft, protesting sound she'd made as she fought herself last night, remembered the feel of that flesh against his palm, and he wanted like the very devil to squander the ninety-nine kisses left to him upon those breasts.

Phoebe, sitting next to him, said, "A thousand faces."

Tynan blinked and forced himself to look away. "Aye."

"Now," Adriana said, addressing her brothers, "tell us what happened to you after the uprising. We thought you dead! Where did you go?"

Julian smiled. "We sailed by night on a fishing boat, right out of their clutches."

"A fishing boat!" Cleo exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "How ghastly!"

"Better than the alternatives, love. They'd have been happier with no less than our heads."

"How did you live?" Adriana asked.

"For a time," Gabriel said, "we simply wandered, taking whatever work we could find to put food in our bellies."

Julian held up his hands, callused and tough. "These hands have not known a gentlemanly day in three years."

"What sort of work?" Cleo asked. "Were you soldiers of fortune?"

"She reads too many novels," Cassandra said with a snort.

"As it happens, Cleo my sweet," Julian said, "we did have that chance for a bit. It wasn't quite the romance you might imagine, since we only defended a dairy farm, from soldiers from the colonies."

"And then, " Gabriel said, eyes shining as he smiled at his sister, "we lived with Indians. What do you think of that?"

"Savage
red
Indians?" Ophelia exclaimed. "Weren't you terrified?"

"Not savage," Julian said, and Tynan glanced at the Earl in surprise, for there was a harshness to his pronouncement. "Far more civilized than we in many ways."

"Careful how you say that, Julian," Ophelia said, aiming for a light tone, "we'll think you've gone native."

A heat and bristling rolled from Julian, distinctive as a perfume. Tynan narrowed his eyes, intrigued.

"Perhaps I have," Julian said. "Or perhaps I only wished to." He reached for his wine and drank it in a single gulp.

"Ah, but we left them soon enough," Gabriel said, leaping gracefully into the sudden silence that threatened to engulf the table, "and had far more rousing experience—a shipwreck!"

His words had the desired effect. The occupants of the table swiveled their heads to listen to him give tale of the grand and terrifying adventure. Tynan watched Julian instead, who bowed his head under the cover of the shipwreck tale. His fists tightened and his mouth grew hard, and even his jaw grew rigid, as if he were fighting some terrible vision.