Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) (25 page)

By the time she reached the rear window, she was trembling and wishing that her desperate mission was done.

As before, she made her way to the first-floor study. The room was empty and she searched quickly, but found nothing of use to her.

With a growing sense of urgency, she crept back into the hallway and started for Morland’s bedroom on the second floor.
Try the false panel beside the bookcase,
her last note had ordered.

Her heart was hammering when she slid open the door at the far end of the corridor. A single branch of candles burned on a marquetry card table. In the flickering light Chessy made out amethyst damask curtains and snow-white sheets mounded around a broad-shouldered form that lay fast asleep.

She frowned down at a tangle of clothes tossed carelessly on the floor between door and bed and then she crept to the bookshelf opposite the bed and ran her hands along the wooden shelves.

Carefully she probed the rear wall, searching for indentations or levers to trigger a hidden panel, but there was no sign of a latch or closings. She searched the shelves, then slid to her knees to test the wainscoting along the floor.

She was just about to rise when she noticed a small stucco design that ran waist-high on both sides of the bookshelf. Frowning, she traced the outline of a spray of flowers that was two inches larger than its mate. Then Chessy sprang back with a cry.

The wall began to slide open. She’d found it!

Carefully she reached inside the darkened recess, feeling her way along dusty shelves until she felt something bulky covered in silk and secured with ivory closings.

With her pulse thundering in her ears she lifted the bulky shape into the candlelight, unwrapping layers of protective silk. The jewel-encrusted binding fell away. Hand-sewn pages lay in her hands. Carefully she opened to the first page.

And then her heart sank.

The painting was skillful enough. In jewel like colors it showed a pair of lovers reclining amid a garden of lotus and peonies.

But it was not the work of a master, not the priceless art object she had glimpsed long ago.

Chessy swayed. So close. This time she had been so sure…

She blinked away sharp tears.

Behind her came a low muttering.

Chessy stared at the figure on the bed. Quickly she moved back to the bookshelf. With trembling hands she shoved the book back in its hiding place.

And then she gasped. Iron fingers caught her right wrist. Scowling, Tony Morland studied the scarred palm and callused fingers.

“Going somewhere?” His voice was cold.

The book in Chessy’s other hand fell to the floor with a crack.

“Yes, I thought the book would lure you back, my dear.”

He pulled at her head covering, but she wrenched backward, out of reach.

“The bedsheets were an old trick I learned in the Peninsula.” In the candlelight the earl’s face looked carved from stone. “And now I think we can dispense with the mask. I know your identity well enough.”

Chessy heard the hiss of tearing silk, and felt the mask slide from her face. “How did you know?”

Morland laughed grimly. “I couldn’t shake the image of a black-clad urchin inching across the roof. And then when I saw your hands, when I felt the calluses—” His eyes hardened. “Oh, I don’t claim that it came immediately. I still thought there were two of you, working together. But I felt your palms just now, and there were those same calluses—” He dropped her hand abruptly, as if it hurt him. “
Why
, Chessy? That’s what I want to know. And then I want to know
how.”

Chessy inched sideways, her hands against the wall. Four steps to the door, maybe five.
Distract him somehow. …

“Why? Very simple.” She edged slowly to the left. “Because it was a challenge, my lord. You know I’ve never been able to resist a challenge.”
Two steps left.
“As for how, there are many things I’ve learned since you left Macao.”

“Obviously, you’ve studied with a master. That explains the calluses on your hands, the strength in your arms. But where did you learn such things?” Morland’s brow furrowed as the answer came to him. “Not in
China?
Not even your ramshackle father would be fool enough to—”

Chessy gave him a tight smile.
Almost there.
“Very observant of you, my lord. And yes, it was in China.” Abruptly she lunged sideways, keeping her body low and tucked.

But Morland’s foot slammed into her knee. She hissed at the impact against her knee, already weakened from her climb in the rain. She swayed and fell onto the Persian carpet. “Damn you! L-let me go!”

His rigid knee anchored her to the carpet. “Stop fighting me. You’re going nowhere until I have some answers!”

She glared up at him, hiding her pain.

“Talk to me.”

“I won’t! You’re arrogant, abominable, insolent—”

“Was it for money? Because of some scrape your father got into?”

She wrenched wildly, but his body did not shift. She wrestled one hand free and slammed it down callused edge first, right against his collarbone.

Morland cursed. His grip wavered for the slightest moment.

It was all the opportunity Chessy needed. She yanked her other hand free and rolled sideways. Her right hand flashed through the air and slammed against his knee.

His right knee.

Morland’s face went utterly white. His lips locked. Horrified, Chessy realized where she had hit him, at the site of his old wound.

But the blaze in his eyes recalled her to her danger. She dove past and hurtled toward the window, then shoved the pane open. As her leg went through, she closed her mind to the pain she had just dealt him.

It had been necessary.
Like so many other things, this had been neither right nor wrong, only necessary.

Wincing as her foot hit the wet tiles, she lost her balance. Rain struck her face.

 Callused fingers circled her knee and locked relentlessly. She was wrenched backward, caught against Morland’s chest.

She told herself to strike him. She raged at her hands to slash at neck or collarbone or to slam at his weakened knee.

But she could not.

And then it was too late.

His eyes were icy. He didn’t spare his breath to speak, only jerked her up into his arms and tossed her onto the bed.

His mouth was a flat line. “First the book, Chessy. Why did you take such risks for it?”

She inched toward the side of the bed nearest the window.

His eyes narrowed. “You’ll never make it. And you’re not leaving this room until you give me some answers.”

“I’ll tell you nothing!”

Morland shrugged. “I imagine it will be a long night in that case. Was it for money? Are you that badly dipped?”

Chessy edged farther away. Carefully she maneuvered her hand along the bed, looking for any weapon to resist him, but she found only crisp linen sheets and a damask dressing gown.

“I’ll tell you
nothing
!” She arched her back and delivered a blow to his side.

Had she tried, that blow could have incapacitated an enemy, but Chessy planned only to force Morland to keep his distance.

Grimacing, he twisted back.

Her second quick kick caught him across the thigh. She saw him stiffen, then grip his leg.

His eyes hardened. “You’ll have to do better than that, my dear. I am quite prepared to stay here all night.”

Chessy saw the ridge of tension at his locked jaw, the strain about his eyes. The way his fingers surreptitiously massaged his knee. She felt a sick ache in the pit of her stomach, imagining the pain he must be feeling. Why wouldn’t the man just give in?

“It’s your father. They have him, don’t they?”

For once Chessy was speechless. She could only stare, too stunned to summon a lie.

“Well? I want the truth. Otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“How—how did you know?”

“I have my spies.” He gave a bitter laugh. “In this case, at least, they were right. How long has he been missing?”

Chessy swallowed. “Three—three months now.”

“So
that’s
why you’ve come to London? To find him?”

Chessy frowned, her lips taut.

“Tell me, damn it!”

“Why? What difference does it make?”

“Because I want to help him, you little fool. And I can help you too. But I won’t know where to begin unless you tell me what’s happened.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Chessy said slowly. “They kidnapped him in Macao three months ago. And it will go far worse for him if you try to interfere. These are dangerous people. They’ll not balk at one more death to achieve their ends.”

“Who?
What people would do such a thing?”

“Any one of a dozen secret societies that litter China and every part of Asia. White Lotus or Green Dragon. The scourge of the East—and now it appears that they’ve moved to London.”

In a lightning movement he grabbed her wrist and turned it up. “What things you must have seen and done since I last saw you!” His eyes darkened. “You were amazing on the rooftop.” He gave a grim laugh. “I thought my heart would drop through my chest when you jumped the street.”

Chessy swallowed. “So did I.”

Morland’s fingers tightened on her hand. “You could have died up there. And if not then, it could have happened a hundred other times. Damn it, I might have shot you
myself
if I’d had a pistol about me.”

Chessy shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “A necessary danger.”

Suddenly Morland went very still. “You came here before. You were there, weren’t you? While Germaine and I …” He did not finish.

Chessy nodded, glad he said no more to describe that evening.

“You saw—us?”

Again she nodded. She could not have spoken.

“Bloody everlasting hell! Of all the times for you to—”

While his brain was still whirling, Chessy tried to tug free. “Let me go. You have your answers. There’s n-nothing more for me to—”

Morland cursed as Chessy’s leg jammed into his knee. “Not yet, my dear. You haven’t yet told me the price for your father’s release.”

Chessy twisted, but his right leg was out of reach. He twisted and shoved her beneath him. His hard thighs pinned her flat to the bed. And his hands—

They were as hard as anything she had faced in Shao-lin.

“You may as well tell me. I’ll have it out of you soon enough.”

She could see that his knee was paining him. She strained to move her leg to aim a punishing blow at his manhood.

He gave her a grim smile, and Chessy flushed faintly, aware of the intimate press of their bodies, of the crisp blond hair dusting his neck just behind his ear.

Morland muttered harshly. His grip tightened. “Their price—it was the book, wasn’t it? The pillow book?”

Chessy’s breath caught, and she knew that her instant stiffening had betrayed her. She nodded reluctantly. “Let me go. You—you have all your answers now.”

She could have fought free then. She could have struck his leg as she had been trained to strike.

But she didn’t. She
couldn’t.
She could not hurt him again
.

She only lay beneath him, remembering how he had tossed in his nightmares. How he struggled to conceal his pain.

And Chessy found herself wishing she could pull him closer and drive away that pain forever.

But she didn’t have forever. She didn’t have
any
time at all, not with her father still a captive. “Let me go. I-I can see you’re in pain. Don’t make me do anything m-more to hurt you,” she said raggedly.

At that moment a curl slid free of its binding at her neck. Shimmering like blue-black satin, it cascaded across her cheek.

Slowly Morland reached out and smoothed the strand back above her ear.

That movement—so singular, so gentle and utterly unexpected—made her blink.

“What do you know about my pain? Unless—” A muscle flashed at his jaw. “So that was
you
that night in the study. I had thought it was Whitby.”

Chessy nodded.

“Did you enjoy what you saw?” Morland’s face was grim. “Did I put on a good performance?”

“Had you gone to bed when you
should
have, I would never have disturbed you!”

“My sincerest apologies. I found I wasn’t equal to the climb.” His voice hardened. “As no doubt you noticed.”

Chessy considered denying what she had seen, but somehow that seemed the coward’s way out. “I saw. How—how long has it been?”

“Since I’ve been like this?” He shrugged. “Long enough.”

“And it always bothers you?”

“Let’s just say I always feel it. But I don’t want your pity, Chessy. All I want are answers.”

But he was lying.

He wanted anything she had to give him. The hard muscle that cushioned her thighs proved that he did. Morland knew she felt it too. Why else had a wave of heat stained her cheeks?