Virgin Star (28 page)

The warm sound of Seanessy's laughter sang in the still and quiet room as he said simply, "You are dreaming, man. Or mad, or both. You have three great nations and a thousand players to choke or rein in on a mercilessly tight leash."

The aroma of the cigar reached the hole in the wall. Shalyn first felt it as a physical sensation, a tingling that raced up and down her spine before reaching all the way through her fingertips.

She had smelled this before!

She rubbed her head, dizzy with the scent...

Memories rushed at her. Of an Oriental man disappearing in a blur of confusion ...

"Mad? I think not, monsieur." The duke said simply and with humor. "Judging one's sanity is a faulty game at best; I refuse to participate. Especially as I am so close, monsieur, so very close. Surely your, ah, compatriot Lord Clives must have explained the situation to you?"

The disclosure brought a steely silence into the room. Seanessy and Kyler exchanged glances, unable to conceal their surprise. "So he has," Seanessy confessed. "I'm surprised, Your Grace: first that you know, then that you would let me know you know. Of course it has been brought to my attention." He played his card: "Yet not by a compatriot." With feeling: "I am Irish; in other words, I bleed green. As do all my countrymen. Clives, indeed all Englishmen are a festering wound, one threatening the life and blood of my kin."

The duke considered Seanessy through a thick cloud of smoke. Finally: "I need the Taniko family out of the game. Like you, monsieur."

"And you want me to do it for you."

The duke chuckled. "Oh no. You misunderstood. I hardly need your help in removing the obstacle made by this perfidious tribe of animals. Quite the contrary, I propose to do you the favor."

Shalyn could tell that the words surprised Seanessy, that he hadn't expected this. She knew too the effect of those words; she could feel Seanessy's sudden escalating tension, released in his reply: "Do me no favors; you can believe I am not a man who needs help with my killing. Now, I find this game is tiring, to say nothing of irritating; get to the point, man. What is it you want?"

The duke was the only human she could imagine who would remain undaunted, and undaunted he was. "I believe I made that clear. I want your shipping enterprise."

"And I believe my dear brother made the reply clear."

"Monsieur, I am not asking Lord Barrington."

"You might as well be," Seanessy said. "The answer's the same. If s not for sale."

"At half a million pounds sterling?"

Half a million pounds. The outrageous sum hung in the tense silence as Seanessy and Kyler exchanged surprised, nay, shocked glances. "What?" This came from Kyler, who shook his head in disbelief.

"This is a surprise." Seanessy almost laughed. "Why, that’s four times its value, perhaps more!" He swore. "You could buy half of London for half a million pounds."

"I have no interest in London," the duke replied with but the barest hint of humor, and in the moment Shalyn studied him, she saw he had rehearsed this whole thing. "So you will consider it," the duke said simply. "And do take into consideration the sheer volume of difficulties and costs incurred by keeping that little piece of worked-over swampland; the terrible headaches involved?"

Headaches? How queer! Shalyn waited anxiously through the silence, wondering if he could possibly know about Seanessy's headaches and purposely prick him with the knowledge, or was this just a coincidence?

The duke continued, "Trust me to know the impossibility of overseeing one's interests from abroad as you and Lord Barrington are more and more forced to do, the increasing difficulties and escalating espionage from the Oriental heathens and the rest. And"—he drew on his cigarillo—"I believe you will discover—"

A man rushed in unannounced. The duke stiffened dramatically as the man bowed quickly before stepping over to the duke. He leaned over to whisper a rush of excited French words.

The Duke de la Armanac demanded as he rose: "This man is alive? He saw her?"

More whispered words passed between the duke and his agent. "Yes, yes at once." Strain, even anxiety crossed the duke's face as he rose to address Seanessy. "I'm afraid I am called away. My business is finished." For a moment, he held the bridge of his nose in consternation, overwhelmed by the news just brought to him. He looked up again, his dark gaze empty of any expression or sentiment. "You will need to consider it, and exchange correspondence with Lord Barrington—"

"Our correspondence has been exchanged." Seanessy said smoothly, and even Kyler, who knew the speed of Sean's wits so well, was absolutely shocked by how quickly Seanessy turned this whole predicament to their advantage. "Lord Barrington has left the matter to me."

"Indeed?" This was the first time the duke appeared surprised.

"Aye." Seanessy smiled. "Naturally he told me about your previous offer. We both were considering it when, ah, our consideration was interrupted by the untimely threats. The situation has changed; my doubts have vanished. You have named a price that, frankly, I find irresistible."

Now it appeared as if Seanessy had arranged this whole charade to extrapolate the highest price possible, as if he had been a dickering haggler at a village market, manipulating the price by the time-honored pretense of reluctance. The duke appeared stunned.

Seanessy continued, "I'll be happy to join you on your little island to arrange the details and work out an amicable transition. As it is, I was planning on journeying to Malacca, hoping to conclude my business there before the monsoon season. I understand your island sits north of the Straits of Malacca?"

"Now you will be telling me your navigator has already worked out a course."

With a wry grin, Seanessy named the exact coordinates of the island and added, "I was planning on debarking before the week's end..."

Kyler's quick mind grasped Seanessy's purpose and he braced, waiting. Seanessy always pressed his luck. He saw that Sean wanted to be on the island before the duke returned to it. That way they'd have plenty of time to find the opium hidden there ...

"I am impressed, monsieur—"

"And appalled," Seanessy said frankly. "You see, Your Grace, unlike you and yours, Irish peasants are not burdened with the aristocracy's contempt for money and the sweet things it buys. Of course, I knew you would be making another offer and of course I hedged my words to squeeze a better price from you. And I got it. So when do you plan to leave London?"

The duke's face remained impassive, save for his eyes. "My departure is uncertain," he answered finally, flatly. "I will forward to you a letter of introduction. You may pass it on to Monsieur du Luc, my overseer there, though in all honesty I do not know when I will arrive, how long you may wait."

Seanessy rose. "Until the monsoon season, Your Grace." .

"Good—"

Seanessy looked to the duke's waiting agent and did not hide his curiosity. "Is there anything I might help you with?"

"No, I'm afraid not." He forced a smile. "It is a minor domestic problem. To our mutually beneficial future, monsieur.”

He bowed. Charles led the duke and his party out. Seanessy remained standing until the door shut. He swung back into the chair and lifted his booted feet to the tabletop. Another very pleased grin spread across the handsome face, widening when Kyler laughed and said, "There's the Irish luck for you, Seanessy!" as he sat down and poured himself a healthy shot of the Irish whiskey.

"Indeed."

All Seanessy had needed was that invitation to the island, then once there, an excuse to prolong it enough to discover and destroy the opium supply before this man ruined England, and with it Ireland. Seanessy and his boys would find the warehouse full of this precious white powder, blow it sky-high, and— somehow!—manage to escape before the man's two-thousand-man army became engaged. Prime Minister Wilson would be Seanessy’s his bloody best friend. He and Ram would get four years' shipping free of British tariffs. Ireland would at last get the all-important place in Parliament.

All in all, a winter well spent.

"Charles," he called out. The man practically leaped through the door. "Charles, I trust you will save me a trip to speak with O'Connell."

An irritated smile spread across the old man's face. "Indeed. And Mister O'Connell asked me to ask you if you know of a Mary Brackton. Apparently the duke is making inquiries into this lady's whereabouts."

"Brackton, Brackton. I have heard the name. Now where was it?"

The name sounded familiar somehow to Shalyn as

well. She sighed, wondering how she could possibly be surprised that she couldn't remember it.

"Oh, well, can't think of it now. Keep the messages flowing, old man. And see my trunks packed. We sail tomorrow for Malacca."

Shalyn withdrew from the hole, her thoughts spinning. She hardly noticed the pained look on Tilly's face as she motioned for silence still, then pushed the chair back across the floor. She was thinking of his last instructions. Trunks.

Trunks. It would be her only hope. She closed her eyes and crossed her fingers like a schoolgirl, praying this slim hope saw her onto his ship sailing first to a duke's South Sea island and then to Malacca.

Malacca—where she knew at last she'd remember.

*****

Chapter 8

He had to say goodbye. He knocked on the door quietly, then opened it and entered. The drawn curtains muted a bright morning sun. The huge green feather quilt buried her in the bed. Beneath the covers Shalyn panicked.

She moaned softly.

Booted feet came to the bed. Concerned hazel eyes looked down. "Shalyn, Tilly says you are, ah, indisposed. I suppose that means you have your monthly, am I right?"

His bluntness irked her, more when she felt color warm her cheeks. Of course, he'd know all about the unmentionable subject. Of course he'd come right out and mention it! He was so... so blunt!

"Poor, poor Shalyn ..."

Poor Shalyn plans on going to Malacca with you.

She pushed her hair off her face as if in distress. With her flushed cheeks, she did in fact look ill.

"Does it hurt that bad?"

She said nothing.

Somehow he could not help touching the girl. A cool hand came to her forehead. The soft skin felt vibrant and warm. She looked incredibly lovely too, despite everything, with the long rope of gold hair trailing off the side of the bed, and the warm invitation of slightly parted lips. He saw she wore her shirt and trousers beneath the covers, and he imagined parting the shirt and slipping his hands over—

He put his head down between his large hands, chuckling at the absurdity. There he went again. Lord! How she stole his mind! What a relief to be done with her!

"Well, Shalyn mine, I suppose this is goodbye."

Not if I have anything to do with it!

He sat on the edge of the bed. The scent of his shaving soap reached her. She breathed deeply, her dark eyes staring up at him. How handsome he looked! He wore white cotton breeches, black boots, a wide black belt, and a loose white canvas vest; that was all. His hair was tied back and his skin shone with that dark golden touch of the sun against the white. His bare arms appeared nothing but muscles—

She thought of his kiss...

Realizing he awaited her reply, she tried to make her voice sound weak. "Aye."

"Now you know Kyler will be seeing to everything—"

She nodded, thinking of his trunks. Again. All night she had thought of his trunks. She had examined them last night. Two trunks sat in his bedchamber now, one of clothes, the other of books. She heard him call to someone, a man named Edward, to send a man for his trunks. They were corning. She had only to remove most of the books, stuff them under the bed or in the closet, and climb in. She could easily fit inside, but it would mean bent knees. She reasoned she could go perhaps five, maybe six hours before suffering cramps from the position. Of course she needed a good deal more time undetected than that; she had to remain hidden at least three or four days before she let him discover her intrigue, maybe longer. Otherwise, he would simply turn the ship around to return her to London.

That was after he killed her....

This was all secondary, though. The first part of her plan called for getting inside the trunk undetected, then praying no one opened the trunks to inspect them before they set sail. Then she would start worrying about how to hide on a ship for four or more days.