by Sahara Kelly
He smiled down at her. “I can see marriage agrees with you. I’m well, thank you. And I appreciate the invitation. I was getting a little bored at the Chase.” He accepted a brandy and raised it in a silent toast. “I almost took off for Lucius’s, but I believe their child is due soon. I’d rather not be there for that, thank you.”
The conversation became general and Dev was informed of all the developments he’d missed, but after dinner, when they relaxed in the small parlor, Hannah began the conversation they all knew they needed to have.
“Dev, we have to deal with my father. Do you have any ideas?”
“Well, that’s blunt.” He smiled at her. “I have been giving it a thought or two, I’ll admit.”
“As have we, although honestly it hasn’t been occupying our minds all the time. There were things to do.”
“I can imagine,” said Dev dryly.
“Oh hush.” Hannah blushed.
Charles enjoyed the byplay. Hannah was so natural around Dev, and he hoped she’d be the same with Lucius and his new wife when he introduced her. She worried so about being a Lady, and yet she had all the charm and grace that marked a true member of society. Someone who would address a servant and an Earl with the same courtesy and respect.
“One of the many things that is bothering me about this entire thing,” he said pensively, “is the identity of this Mr. Smith.”
Dev nodded. “Yes, I thought about that too.” He put his glass on the small table beside his chair. “It has to be someone who knows about the priest’s hole at the Sow’s Ear. That’s an additional thing we didn’t know before. Add that to the fact that he must know your father, Hannah, and perhaps we can come up with a suggestion or two as to his identity?”
She shook her head. “I can’t think of a single person who might fill both those requirements, Dev, and believe me I’ve tried.” She took a little sip of her own brandy. It wasn’t quite proper, but she’d begged and Charles had given in.
“There was only one man who betrayed any interest in the birthmark. An old teacher of mine. He was sort of an expert on Viking matters—he liked to visit archaeological digs on his holidays and tell his students all about them when he got back—and he did spend quite a bit of time with my father.”
Charles sat up. “Do you know if he ever made the acquaintance of your cousin Benby?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I believe Benby spent some time with us when Mr. Montrose was tutoring us in history.” She looked up. “I wonder if it could be him?”
“How old would he be, Hannah? Just a guess?” Dev looked interested.
“Hmm.” She stared at her brandy glass. “He seemed quite old when he was tutoring us, but I was so young. Barely ten. Let’s say he was perhaps thirty-five. That is ancient to a ten year old.”
Dev agreed. “So that would make him in his forties and just about the right age to get involved in a scheme like this, especially if money was involved. It’s been my experience that tutors aren’t paid very much.”
“Was he very knowledgeable, Hannah, do you recall?” Charles thought about it. “Or just one of those weekend amateurs?”
She shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. But I do remember that he had a lot of drawings and old books. If pressed, I’d say he had the knowledge, but how extensive it is I cannot judge.”
The three looked at each other, and silently arrived at the same conclusion.
“We will work under the assumption that Mr. Smith is your old tutor, Montrose. At least that’ll be a place to start.”
Charles knew the odds were long, but they had to begin their plans somewhere.
“So how do we lure this man out of hiding?” Hannah looked at them both. “Why would he come after me now, since I’m not only wed, but have a knight protector as well?” She tipped her head at Dev.
“Thank you. I rather like that.” He grinned. Then his face went blank and he blinked.
“Dev?”
Charles knew that look. He’d seen it many times and those times had usually resulted in dire consequences. It meant that Dev was scheming, and something of import had just occurred to him.
“Are you all—“
Dev held up his hand and silenced Hannah mid-question.
“Give him a minute, sweetheart. He’s thinking. It doesn’t happen too often, and requires silence.” Charles smirked.
“I’ve got it.” He looked at his host and hostess. “And it’s so simple. These two men—and I don’t hesitate to call them villains, even though one of ‘em is your father, Hannah—these two men are so filled with greed that they’d do anything to get their hands on what they perceive as treasure.”
“So?” Charles leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs.
“So we give it to them.”
“What?” Hannah tried to follow Dev’s logic but had to admit he’d gone beyond what she could comprehend with that simple statement.
“Look,” Dev stood and began to pace. “They’re looking for an ancient Norse talisman thing. How many are there of those around? Not a lot, I should imagine. And we have one huge advantage…we know what it looks like because Hannah is wearing a reproduction on her shoulder.”
Charles’s face creased in a smile. “You clever sod.”
Hannah made the sort of sound one might expect from a tiger when deprived of its prey. And she did it on purpose.
Both men grinned.
“Think it through, love,” said Charles. “They want this thing that looks like your birthmark. So we make one.”
She felt her jaw drop at the beautiful simplicity of the idea, then turned to Dev. “He’s right. You are a very clever sod.”
*~~*~~*
Over the next week or so, Hannah got used to revealing her birthmark on demand. She made sure to wear a garment that would permit her to do so without compromising her integrity, and became quite adept at allowing one portion of her bodice to loosen enough to reveal the interlocking triangles.
Both Charles and Dev made drawings of the design, compared them, and then combined them into one.
“Oh, goodness. So that’s what it looks like from the other side.” She stared at it in fascination. “When one has something on one’s back, one’s restricted to how it’s viewed.”
“Good point,” said Dev.
“What do you think?” asked Charles. “Is it close enough to be recognizable?”
“Definitely.” She looked again. “What sort of metal should it be?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Dev shrugged. “But we should be able to find some knowledgeable soul hereabouts who has an idea. There always seems to be a historian around, whether you need one or not. Damned nuisance, if you ask me. Unless of course you want to know which king killed half your family five hundred years ago.”
“I’ll ask Sharpley. He knows the locals, so we should be able to find the information we need.” Charles looked smug. “M’father told me to make sure I always had a butler or a valet smarter than me, because I’d need him at least once a month. He was right.”
“Lots of folks smarter than you, old slug. But I’ll agree on the butler thing.” Dev sat down.
On that companionable note, they adjourned the discussion and indulged in tea.
However the wheels had been set in motion, and scarcely a week later they stood in front of Charles’s desk staring at the package he had just unwrapped.
“I always knew those artists at the Ludgate Society in town were good. I just didn’t know how good.” He shook his head in amazement.
Hannah stared too.
It was the most unusual experience—looking at something she’d previously only seen as shadows on her own skin.
The two triangles were cunningly intertwined and it looked as if they’d been buried since the last Viking hung up his helmet. The metal was tarnished and pockmarked, but still retained its shape.
The decorative markings were represented by bits of some kind of horn inlaid into the surface. Some were inta
ct, others chipped or missing altogether. It was extraordinary, not only in the design and execution, but also in the way it had been “aged”.
She knew she would have expected to see something like this on the shelves of any prestigious museum.
“When we’re done with it, we should donate it to the British Museum. It can sit next to the Parthenon marbles.”
“It is that realistic, isn’t it?” Charles shared her awe.
“All right then. We have our talisman. What do we do now?” She looked at Charles and Dev. “What’s the strategy for act two of our little drama?”
“We start a rumor.” Charles glanced at Dev. “D’you know, I’ve always wanted to do that. Start a rumor.”
“You are a man of modest desires, my friend. Personally I want to squeeze the daylights out of whoever took our Hannah.”
“That would be my Hannah, if you don’t mind.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Any time you two are done with your theatrical routines…”
Charles nodded. “Right. Anyway, we start this rumor that we’ve discovered something strange…let’s see…in an old cottage we were about to tear down. In the attic was an ancient locked box with odd markings on it…”
“We thought they looked like runes, “ Dev added as Charles ran out of steam. “But unfortunately, it disintegrated before we could verify that. And inside, in an old piece of hide, was our talisman. We’re pretty sure it’s Norse, due to the triangle shapes which have been traditionally associated with Viking artifacts.”
“Very nice.” Hannah nodded her approval. “The rumor is planted. And we hope it grows enough to attract the attention of…whom? My father or this Mr. Smith?”
“Either or both,” replied Charles. “My concern is having it originate from Fontaine House. Your father will certainly make the connection—if he didn’t know that I was the Penvale heir when you ran away, he must do now. Not sure how best to handle that aspect.”
She agreed. “Is there anywhere else we can go to start this rumor?”
“You two can’t, but I can.” Dev sat in Charles’s chair behind his desk. “I’m still hoping that nobody has made a connection between myself and your kidnapping, Hannah. The amount of time we’ve been all together has been minimal, overall. I don’t see Martin and the folks from the Sow’s Ear rushing up to London and telling everyone, and although I was on the street in Redbridge, there were about a hundred other people there as well.”
“Yes. That’s true.” Hannah nodded. “And from that point on we travelled on mostly empty roads to people you knew. They would be unlikely to mention much. Although there’s always the staff…”
“That’s a risk we’ll have to take. But I can add a little insurance. I’m thinking of a small holding not too far from London, but to the east. A place near the river, and not a completely unlikely location for Viking treasures. A friend of mine just bought it and he’s thinking of renovating some of the outer buildings. What better time to drop by and offer him a hand?”
Charles looked enthusiastic. “Would he help?”
“Oh hell, yes.” Dev blinked. “You might remember him? Chuffy Meadows?”
“Not Puffy Chuffy?”
“The same.”
“Good God. I thought his heart would have failed by now. He weighed more than my horse back then.”
Dev chuckled. “He decided that he preferred the ladies to the dinner table. That shrunk him down a lot. And he inherited quite a bit of the ready from a distant aunt. Now he’s one of the more eligible bachelors in town, which resulted in his buying that property, away from town. Said he needed somewhere to go that was quiet and female-free.”
Hannah snorted. “The male ego.”
“I’m not jesting, Hannah. Truly.” Dev raised his eyebrows. “Being an eligible bachelor is like being the only deer in a field full of hunters. Without a tree in sight. I don’t blame Chuffy at all. You won’t catch me in town during the height of the season. I value my sanity far too much.”
“You don’t want to marry, Dev? Continue the Delany line?” Hannah looked at him with curiosity.
“At some point, I supposed I’ll have to. But it’s the marrying thing that bothers me. Thus far, not one woman has inspired me to give up the life I’m actually rather enjoying.” He recollected himself. “Other than you, of course, and you’re already taken.”
“Well played.” Dev nodded at his friend.
“This is all very well, gentlemen, but it doesn’t give us a solution to our discussion.”
“I thought we had worked it out.”
“We have, insofar as we’ve recreated the talisman, and found a source for the rumor.” Hannah stared at the talisman. “But what do we do then?”
She looked up to see two blank gazes fixed on her face. “I mean once the rumor has made the rounds, and presumably my father has been made aware of the discovery…what comes next?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hannah’s question had resounded in Charles’s brain and sent Dev into a brood.
Everyone knew it was a brood because he announced it after dinner. “I’m going to pass on the port this evening, boy and girl. I feel the need to brood.”
He exited the dining room with no further comments, leaving Hannah looking at Charles in confusion.
“Don’t worry about it, darling. Dev broods. What it means is that he’ll go for a walk, get cold, and then come back and finish my brandy. But he’d rather do it on his own.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I understand. One of those odd things gentlemen do.”
“Exactly.” Charles smiled. “Come to think of it, there are a few other odd things gentlemen do. Perhaps you’d care to learn about those while Dev is brooding?”
Hannah’s spine tingled with excitement, but she kept her voice level. “Would I be correct in assuming that these other things take place in private? In our suite for example?”
He came to her side, swept an arm around her waist and lifted her clean off her feet. “You are correct as always.”
She laughed as he turned, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a feather. “I’m guessing that this is part of your Viking heritage. You know, the invading and marauding type of thing those fellows did back then.”
“Absolutely. I can maraud with the best of ‘em.” He strolled through the house and up the stairs to their suite, ignoring the one or two muffled chuckles from his servants.
Dismissing her maid, Charles plopped her down onto the bed without any further ado.
She sat there, watching him with interest. “And are you about to invade now?”
“That will be part of the evening, yes. But I have to do honor to my forbears first, you know.” He wandered around the room extinguishing a few candles, and leaving only a few to shed a soft flickering light across the bed.
“Of course. One must hold true to one’s heritage.”
He stripped off his jacket and waistcoat and his cravat followed suit. Within moments his wife was observing his manly Viking chest with interest. Or so he hoped.
His appreciation for the woman he’d married was growing by leaps and bounds. Every day he saw a new expression on her face, or learned something intriguing about the way she thought.
And every night she showed him something unique, whether it be a smile or a sigh, or the way the candlelight shone on her curvaceous body. He decided he would never tire of these moments. They were tiny treasures she gave him without knowing it and more precious than any gift she could have bought and wrapped.
Truly this whole marriage thing had turned out to be astounding in a variety of ways he never could have anticipated. He had never had doubts about bedding Hannah. The minute he’d set eyes on her he’d known they would be a match, and they were.
And yet tonight, even after the newness of the wedding had worn off, he was still amazed to find his hands shook a little at the thought of taking her again, touching her, loving her…
“May I say you make a splendid Vi
king?” She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, heedless of her gown. “Although I think a horned helmet would be in order. Not to mention an enormous spear.” She frowned a little. “Oh, and a longboat.”
Charles, with an effort that almost burst his spleen, refrained from making any inappropriate comments, even though several dozen had immediately sprung to mind at her words.
Something else was also springing to attention. He glanced down as he unfastened his breeches. Well on the plus side, he now had the respectable sword to add to his arsenal of Viking attributes.
Hannah seemed to be intrigued. “Oh my.” Her gaze dropped to the prominent bulge distending the front of his loosened clothing. Then she looked up. “Would it be appropriate for me to welcome the conquering invader with open arms?”
He walked to her, his heart thundering, his cock hard enough to pierce the hull of a Viking long ship. “It would be perfect.”
She reached out her hands and touched him, palms to his chest, stroking and caressing with silent focus.
He stood it for several delicious moments, but then caught her hands in his, urging her off the bed and onto her feet. “And now, my captive maiden, your Viking marauder has demands.”
“Do tell.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to be enthusiastic about being marauded.”
“Is that a word?” She leaned forward and kissed the flat disc of his nipple, teasing it with her tongue.
“Er…what?”
She’d done it again. Made him completely lose track of what he was saying and doing. Good thing he wasn’t a damn Viking. He’d be stuck in a fjord somewhere, toasting herring.
Determined to wrest control of the situation back to the Norse side, Charles slid his hands to her wrists and grasped them, moving her hands away from her body.
“Now my lovely prisoner. You must disrobe.”
“Oh good.” She beamed.
“I’m not quite sure you’ve embraced the spirit here.” He led her to the end of the bed, and released one hand so that she could unfasten her dress. Then he tugged it away, leaving her in her thin chemise.
