The Beloved Scoundrel

by Iris Johansen

  “Then, smile, girl. You’re far too serious. One should be solemn only about the important things in life. Heaven knows, there are enough of those to weigh us down.” She started toward the door. “Now, I shall unpack and send my driver back to Dorchester. Which is your room?”

  “The Blue Room.”

  “Gracious, that won’t do at all. It’s fine for Jordan’s ladybirds, who never know whether it’s day or night anyway, but you wouldn’t be able to breathe in there. No wonder you’re clinging to this tower. I’ll see to the change. Something brighter and more open?” She saw Marianna’s bewildered expression and said, “If you didn’t like the room, why didn’t you move?”

  “I thought all the chambers were like that. Alex’s is little better.”

  “Does he mind it?”

  “He doesn’t even notice. It’s only a place to sleep and play on rainy days. He spends most of his time at the stables.”

  “But I think you notice everything about this place.” Dorothy studied her expression and then said quietly, “Listen, Marianna, this is a new world for you, and that’s frightening. Gregor tells me you have courage, but that’s not enough. I think, if you look at Cambaron as one of your glass windows that you can change and rearrange to suit yourself, you’ll be happier.”

  “Change?” Marianna repeated, startled.

  “Did you think Cambaron has stayed the same for the past six hundred years? As long as you do not tear down the walls, I doubt if Jordan will object. Perhaps he would be grateful if you did. He has no fondness for the place.” She smiled impishly. “Besides, he will not be here when you’re doing most of the alteration and will have only the agent’s report.”

  A heady lightness swept through Marianna. She suddenly realized her unhappiness at Cambaron had not been caused by the place itself but her lack of control to change and mold it. It had been a prison, and now Dorothy was throwing open the gates. “It doesn’t seem possible. You’re sure he will permit it?”

  “Jordan sent word I was to keep you contented. If this will do it, he won’t object.”

  Why, Cambaron could be a giant panel of glass that she could shape to serve the sunlight. The joy that had been tentative was growing stronger by the second.

  “And we will have an enjoyable time spending Jordan’s pounds. Better us than one of those doxies.” Dorothy opened the door.

  “Wait! Why did you come when he sent for you?” Marianna asked curiously. “It’s obvious you don’t approve of him.”

  “I like the rascal. Liking has nothing to do with approval. We are the same age and saw each other frequently as children. In spite of our quarrels, I find I miss him.” She grimaced. “Besides, Dorchester is monstrous dull, and life is never boring around Jordan.”

  “And that is all?”

  She hesitated and then shrugged. “No, I owe him a debt. He did me a great service at one time.” She changed the subject. “You may work here for another four hours, and then you must come with me to inspect and choose a bedchamber while there is still light.” She pulled the door shut behind her with quiet firmness.

  For the first time since she had come to Cambaron, Marianna felt a burst of hope. Since that moment in the church at Talenka she had been walking on quicksand, not certain where to step, confronted by dangers and feelings she had never known before.

  But now the ground was growing firm, and she could begin to see a path in the distance.

  He was coming!

  Marianna could see the high-spirited bays racing down the road toward her, Jordan guiding the reins with skill. Good heavens, she had not thought he would be coming at this breakneck pace. If she didn’t stop him, he would be careening past her and leave her with nothing but a face full of dust.

  She drew a deep breath and then stepped out of the underbrush and into the middle of the road.

  The bays reared high!

  The phaeton leaned perilously to one side as Jordan stood up and fought to get the horses under control.

  Marianna stared in astonishment.

  Jordan was cursing beneath his breath as he finally subdued the bays. “Good God, what are you about? Did you wish to kill us all?”

  She stiffened defensively. “How was I to know they would behave so foolishly? My horse is not so skittish.”

  “These horses are bred for spirit and speed, not docility.” He glared at her. “You don’t jump out in front of a team like this and expect them to behave like plow horses.”

  “Perhaps if you’d train them to be better—” She stopped and scowled at him. “Very well, I’m in the wrong. I should not have done it.”

  “Yes, you are.” He stared speculatively at her. “But you don’t usually admit it so readily. What mischief have you been practicing?”

  “No mischief. You speak as if I were as young as Alex.”

  “It’s how I’ve been endeavoring to picture you for the last few days. However, I doubt if even Alex would have the lack of maturity to step out before a team of horses.”

  She gestured impatiently. “I wished to talk to you. I have a request to make.”

  “You couldn’t wait until I reached Cambaron?”

  “Dorothy is there, and she would … She is very determined to have her own way and has very strong opinions. She says you would not mind, but I have to be certain.”

  “This request is becoming lengthy, and it’s not good to keep the horses standing.” He held out his hand. “Get in the phaeton.”

  She cast a wary look at the horses as she sidled past them. As he pulled her up and onto the seat next to him, her stomach rolled queasily. She felt perilously high and vulnerable in the open carriage. “I think I’d rather get down and walk beside you.”

  “Nonsense.” He flicked the reins, and the team leaped forward with a bound. “The request?”

  She said in a rush, “Dorothy says you wouldn’t mind if I made stained-glass panels for the windows at the castle.” She added, “And perhaps decorations for some of the walls.”

  “Why should I mind? If your work is creditable, it can only improve the place.” His gaze suddenly narrowed on her face. “Is that all?”

  “Well, not exactly.” She moistened her lips. “I wonder if you’d let me cut a hole in the roof.”

  He blinked. “I beg your pardon? Wouldn’t that be a trifle drafty?”

  “Not the entire roof. Just in the south wing where the ballroom is located.”

  “I see,” he said solemnly. “I’m relieved we’re to have a little shelter from the elements. I knew you had a dislike for Cambaron, but don’t you think such destruction is a little extreme?”

  He was not taking her seriously. “It will only be for a little while. We needn’t start cutting for a long while, and even after the hole is there, we can cover it until I’m ready.”

  “Until you’re ready for what?”

  “A dome.” She rushed on eagerly. “I’ve always dreamed of doing one. A beautiful stained-glass dome with flowers and vines and perhaps birds. Wouldn’t that be splendid?”

  His stared musingly at her. “It sounds utterly magnificent … and complicated. Are you sure you’d be capable of fashioning this dome?”

  She nodded. “The panels themselves will not be too difficult. The precision and balance of setting the panels into the dome will make up the greatest challenge. I’m very good now, and the more complicated tasks I undertake, the better I’ll get.” With a touch of defiance she added, “And you do want me to improve. Isn’t that why I’m here?”

  He didn’t answer the challenge. “And how long would such a project take?”

  “I don’t know. A long time. There’s a great deal of work involved in such a project.”

  “I can see there would be.” He added dryly, “And in the meantime I exist with a monstrous hole in my roof.”

  Her face fell with disappointment. “Yes.” She bit her lip. “You’re right, it’s too much to ask.”

  He was silent a moment. “How big a hole?”
r />   Hope leaped within her. “Not the entire ballroom. The dome would be in the center.”

  “How comforting.”

  She held her breath.

  “Oh, the devil with it.” He smiled recklessly. “What do I care if you chop up the place? Make your blasted dome.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.” He shook his head as he saw her luminous expression. “It takes very little to make you happy.”

  “This isn’t little.” She was so excited, she was having trouble sitting still. “It’s very seldom a craftsman gets to work on such a project. My grandmama did only two domes in her entire life.”

  “Well, if you don’t stop wriggling, you won’t be alive to do this one,” he said. “You’re making the horses restless.”

  She didn’t care. She was so full of joyful exuberance, even the dratted horses didn’t intimidate her. “You seem to be able to control them.”

  “Would you like to try?”

  She looked at him, startled. “Me?”

  “A new experience.” He put his left arm around her and transferred the reins to her hands, which he then covered with his own. “Hold tight, but don’t pull.”

  Power. Excitement soared through her as she felt the pull on the reins. All that strength and spirit, and she was holding it in check, guiding it!

  He chuckled. “You like it.”

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “It’s … wonderful. Take your hands away. Let me do it alone.”

  “Not this time.” He moved his arm from around her and took back the reins. “Next time I come to Cambaron, I’ll give you a lesson in handling the ribbons.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I promise.” He smiled indulgently. “If I keep you sufficiently occupied, perhaps you’ll delay poking a hole in my roof until the winter snows are done.”

  Perhaps this wasn’t the time to tell him that the snows would come and go again before she would be through with the flower dome. “You’re going away again?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Why?”

  “I have business to conduct abroad.”

  “When will you be back?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. Perhaps in the spring.”

  Spring. He wouldn’t be back until spring. She would be able to work with no interference and with no inner torment. The realization must not have set in yet, otherwise she wouldn’t feel this curious flatness.

  The gates of Cambaron were just ahead, and she was surprised at the sharp twinge of disappointment she experienced. Their short time together on the phaeton had been amazingly companionable. She had not been aware of even a hint of sensuality in Jordan’s manner. He had been as casually indulgent as if she had been a younger sister.

  She darted a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His expression was bland, controlled, faintly amused. Yet it was too … too smooth, as if he were wearing a mask.

  He did wear a mask, she realized suddenly. She never really knew what he was thinking unless he told her.

  “What are you plotting now?” he asked with mock alarm. “The ballroom is one thing, but I absolutely refuse to allow a hole in the roof of my stable. My horses are much more sensitive than any of the two-legged specimens of my acquaintance.”

  What did she care what was beneath the mask? He had said yes. He had given her the opportunity to create her dome! “I wouldn’t think of it.” She smiled happily. “You’re not the only one who likes horses better than people. Alex would never permit it.”

  William says next year I’ll be ready for a bigger horse,” Alex said as Marianna tucked the covers around him. “But Gregor says not as big as his.”

  “I should hope not.” Marianna smiled down at him. “You would need to stand on the top rim of the fountain to mount him.” She brushed his hair back from his face. “But you mustn’t be disappointed if you have to keep your pony. Horses cost a good deal of money, and we have no right to ask anything of these people.”

  “We don’t have to ask; they just give to us.” Alex yawned. “And Jordan won’t mind. He told me he got his first horse when he was five, but he still rode his pony until he was too heavy for it.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  “He said you don’t desert your old friends when new ones come.” Alex smiled sleepily. “So I won’t have to give up Keely. I’ll just make a new friend.”

  “You’re making a good many friends here, aren’t you?”

  Alex nodded. “They like us.” He frowned. “But I worry a little. Mama always said not to take unless you could give. I’ve been taking, Marianna.”

  She had been taking, too, she realized suddenly. Jordan had promised her protection for Alex, but he had also given kindness. He had brought them here to safety and treated Alex like an indulged younger brother.

  But he had done it only because of the Jedalar.

  No, he could have merely supplied her with a place to work. He had sensed she would not be able to resist the opportunity to create, to perfect her craft. He didn’t have to be either kind or generous to them.

  Perhaps he had been kind because he wanted her in that way.

  But there had been nothing calculated in his lust; it had been as swift rising as a summer storm. When he had realized the storm would hurt her, he had sent it away.

  “Marianna, what can I give him?” Alex asked. “He has so much.…”

  “Take your time. He won’t return until spring. You’ll think of something,” she said gently. She bent and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Surprises are always best. Good night, Alex.”

  She blew out the candle and moved toward the door.

  Alex was far wiser than she, she thought resignedly. She had told Jordan she would accept everything and give nothing in return, but she should have known she wouldn’t be able to do it. It would have destroyed something within her. Gifts, no matter for what reason they were given, must be returned. It would have been so much easier if Jordan had remained the enemy who was trying to steal the Window to Heaven. Instead, he had begun to weave himself into their lives until he was now part of the fabric.

  If she was to start anew here, she must learn to deal with that truth. He had said they could be friends. It could be that by offering her friendship, he only thought to persuade her to give him the Jedalar. It was far more difficult to refuse a friend than an enemy.

  But wouldn’t that also be true of Jordan? Wasn’t he far less likely to use coercion toward her if their relationship were more harmonious?

  Harmonious? The word was ludicrous used in connection with Jordan Draken. From the moment she had met him, her life had been fraught with conflict and uncertainty.

  Yet on board the Seastorm there had been moments of harmony and humor, and this afternoon he had been as kind as an older brother.

  It might be possible.

  April 15, 1809

  Pekbar, Montavia

  Well, what news? Have you found her?” Nebrov asked.

  “Not precisely.” Costain hesitated. “But I think I may know where she is.”

  “Then why isn’t she here?”

  “It may be difficult—”

  “I don’t want to hear about difficulties. I want to hear about how you conquered them.”

  “I had to come to ask if I should broach this particular difficulty.” He paused. “I believe the children may be under the protection of the duke of Cambaron.”

  “Draken?” He frowned. He cursed viciously. “Why not? It should come as no surprise, what with the bad fortune that’s plagued me. Are you certain?”

  Costain shook his head. “But the duke sailed from Domajo only a few months ago. I made inquiries on the dock, and I was told he had come directly from Talenka.”

  “The Window to Heaven.” Nebrov’s lips curled. “Well, at least he didn’t get it either.”

  “But he may have gotten the children, if they fled to Talenka after we killed the mother. Draken’s man, Gregor Damek, scoured the shops bef
ore he left to buy clothing for a little boy and a young girl. He was in a great hurry because they were sailing at midnight for England.”

  “Then he does have them,” Nebrov muttered.

  “But does he know what he has?”

  “Of course, he knows. He has a connection with Kazan. I’d wager he was sent to Talenka to get the Window to Heaven before I did.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I would have liked to have seen his face when he saw it lying in pieces on the floor.”

  “But, if the girl knows the pattern, there’s a possibility she could create another one.”

  “No!” Nebrov’s hand clenched on the table. England. Why did Draken have to take the bitch to England, where he could not touch her?

  But who said he could not touch her? he thought suddenly. Every stronghold could be breached if one was clever enough, patient enough. Draken was a formidable man, but Nebrov had detected a certain weakness in his character. He would have no compunction about killing an enemy, but he would hesitate in torturing the girl to get information about the Jedalar. He would not force the pace if patience would carry the day, and that weakness might give Nebrov the opportunity he needed.

  Nebrov could be patient, too, if the stakes were high enough. Why not let Draken invest the time and effort and then take the prize away from him when the time was ripe?

  “I think you must pay a visit to England, Marcus,” he told Costain. “I believe we must learn what’s happening at Cambaron.”

  CHAPTER 7

  June 30, 1809

  Cambaron, England

  It’s just like you to give us so little notice, Jordan. A house party of seventy-five? Do you expect miracles?” Dorothy asked as she stood on the castle steps and watched Jordan get out of the phaeton. “Didn’t it occur to you that not everyone in the world is waiting to rush to do your bidding?”

  “No, I’ve found if you expect miracles, they have a tendency to occur.” He smiled. “Particularly if you’re here to provide them, Dorothy. I was at a masked ball last night, and I suddenly decided it was time to come home. Since you forbid me to come without a bevy of chaperons, I invited the entire party.”