by Mary Martin
"You know full well what I am getting at, my fine lady," Mindy responded stiffly, the brush stroking faster and harder as if by doing so she might force some sense into her charge's head.
Starlin winced several times before reaching up to grasp the arm wielding the brush. "Will you stop that! You are not going to inflict another tprturous stroke of that weapon. I've had enough tending to for one night."
Mindy glared reproachfully. "Morning's what you mean."
Starlin wrinkled her nose in irritation at the woman. "Go on to bed with you, and be quick about it. I don't need to have you needling me yet again about my ways."
"Seems it 'asn't done me a bit of good, or you neither." The maid flung down the silver-backed brush with a sigh of disgust. "Whatever do you think of sometimes, a fine lady like yourself." She bit her lip to stem back the tirade she would have liked to heap upon the young woman. She was still pursing her lips disapprovingly even as she touched the girl affectionately on the shoulder before leaving the bedchamber.
Starlin sat there, miserable silence enveloping her. With a dejected sigh, she made her way to the door, deciding to go to the library and read for a while since sleep seemed ever elusive. She was oblivious to the fact that even as she shrugged into a satin wrap and prepared to leave her bedchamber, a figure cloaked in black stood below her balcony waiting for the candle in her room to be extinguished.
When the room darkened, he began climbing the trellis until he was able to swing over onto the balcony. He worked with efficient ease on the lock securing the French doors, and within a moment, he was standing inside her room.
Candle in hand, Starlin made her way quietly through the cavernlike hallways of the immense house not once admitting to herself that she was, in fact, trying to flee the image of Rayne's sardonic face that had seemed to fill every corner of her bedchamber. With miserable acknowledgment, she entered the vast room, and after selecting the works of Byron, set the candle on a nearby side table and curled up in a plush leather chair. Angry with Morgan and also herself for allowing • him to manipulate her so, she snuggled deeper into the chair and flipped open the book with a determined set to her mouth. She would read until her eyes dropped closed and her mind driven of its demon. In every other word on the page, she found herself arranging the letters just so ... Scorpio . . . Rayne. After their explosive encounter tonight, and the passion they had shared, Starlin knew it would be best for her to keep some measure of distance between them.
"Scoundrel or lord. . . you're terribly bad," she mumbled as the book dropped from her fingers, "and I must fight this overwhelming urge within that dares me so." Emotionally exhausted, she snuggled into the chair and fell asleep.
Something fell to the floor overhead. Starlin awakened with a start, shaking her head to clear her befuddled thoughts. For several minutes she did not move as she sat listening to the faint stirrings of the household. She peered around her and noticed the pale pink light of daybreak peeking through an opening in the draperies. The sound of anxious voices and hurrying footsteps brought her to her feet. Rushing from the library and out into the hall, she was met by a white-faced kitchen maid.
"Blimey, Your Ladyship, but you've given us all a scare!" She froze as if seeing a ghost.
Starlin felt her heart plummet thinking of her grandfather's frail health and wondering if something had happened to him.
"Annie, what has happened?"
"It's your maid, Mindy," Annie wailed. "She was attacked by an intruder . . . and in your room, no less."
"Oh!" Starlin gasped. "How is she?" She grasped the sobbing Annie by her thin shoulders. "Was she injured badly?"
"Roughed up a bit, she was," Annie sniffled, "with a good thump to the head, poor thing."
"Has the doctor been sent for?"
"Yes, mum, first thing."
"Good," Starlin replied firmly. "Now, I must see to her myself." She started for the stairway.
By the time that Starlin reached the wing of the house where her chambers were and saw the frightened servant huddled on the wide four-poster holding a cloth to her head, she was composed, and hurried to comfort her. She sat beside Mindy on the bed.
"It's all right," she said soothingly. "You're going to be fine." She wrapped a comforting arm around the tiny woman who was like a mother to her.
"I thought the man was going to kill me, Your Ladyship," she breathed shakily, head bowed to hide her tears.
"I'm so sorry this happened," Starlin said softly.
"It wasn't your fault," the maid sighed. "Don't fret none on it. I'll be good as new, I expect."
The earl stepped over beside them, a look of obvious relief on her features as he stared down at his granddaughter. "She'll be just fine, Starlin. The doctor should be here any minute now."
Starlin nodded over the lump in her throat. She enfolded her hand in his. "Why would anyone do something so ugly?"
"Desperate for money I suppose." The earl ran his fingers through his thick silver hair. "Child, I must say you almost scared me to death. We thought that he'd kidnapped you when we first found Mindy in your room, and you nowhere about."
"Oh, sir, I do apologize," Starlin said hurriedly. "I had gone to the stables to talk with Fredrick and see about Abra." Her eyes held a guilty light. "It was impulsive of me, and I am sorry for causing you undue concern."
"My dear Starlin, this is one time I'm glad you acted as you saw fit. For none of us is certain until the police are able to investigate, whether this was a robbery, or something more ominous." He gestured toward the terrace doors: "The intruder must have waited until* your light was extinguished and managed to jiggle open the lock on the French doors. With the number of vagabonds roaming about London these days I am surprised that we haven't been subjected to something like this before now."
"That is who you truly think responsible," Starlin asked, "someone who perhaps picked this house with the intention of robbing us?"
The earl frowned. "Don't you?'
Starlin rose from the bed to walk about the chamber. She recalled the shadowy form near the stable. A ghost of memories? ... Or could it have been? ... No! She did not wish to confront/that possibility.
"It doesn't appear that he had the opportunity to steal very much," the earl offered, watching the intent expression on Starlin's face in the flickering candlelight.
The sound of her grandfather's voice had faded into the background of Starlin's conscious thought. She could not forget that other time—the night she'd first encountered Scorpio. God, but he'd reacted so violently that night in the cave upon noticing Carl's ring on her finger. What had he said? ...
How is it you come to wear this ring?
It was the ring that had made him turn so brutal. Before then he'd been of a totally different mind. She shivered even now visualizing that terrifying scene. After he'd glimpsed the ring he didn't appear like the same man. His eyes had hardened, observed her with a calculating light. And he had called her something . . .
"My enemy," she murmured to herself. She vividly recalled his sneering contempt, and his voice, so full of hatred. How could she have been swept away by passion and forgotten the intensity of his enmity for her? She glanced about the room, her heart twisting with painful acknowledgment. How could he have made love to her, and then do something like this?
In confusion, Starlin fought with the part of her that wanted to believe anything that he said, and the rational side, the one that had earned her the title of Ice Princess. He claimed to have changed in the year since last they met. But had he really? She found herself wishing that she could believe he'd abandoned his old ways. Lord Rayne Morgan. The name and family were greatly respected throughout England. Her grandfather had told her that his ancestors had been favorites of the king. Respected, admired, yes, all of that had been said. Henry Morgan had been a distant relative, and a clever pirate whom many had admired. Perhaps this pirating business was something that was just in a man's blood, and could not be purged from some,
no matter how hard one might try.
Starlin was convinced that such was the case with Rayne Morgan. She now felt certain that he had demanded to know where she had gotten the ring in an effort to learn more about her background. He had wanted her to relate details about herself so that he might trace her to an address, and, she felt certain now, to a fashionable one at that. He had been planning to find her since their initial encounter—and rob her! For what thief of a pirate could resist jewels? A pox on his stalwart family name!
Her mouth trembled. She felt as if he'd violated her by this act. The room had been thoroughly searched. Personal items were scattered everywhere. It hurt to think of how much she was attracted to him, and how easily he had manipulated her. If she'd dare admit it to herself, he was the one she dreamed of each night who would teach her the ways of love. Love! That was not what they'd shared tonight. Her secret dreams were shattered by the ugly reality of the man.
Starlin peered into the open cache of jewels. She rifled through the contents, and was astounded to find that only a few pieces were missing. Her grandfather's voice broke through her brooding reverie.
"I believe your best pieces were overlooked." . "It... it does look that way."
"Lucky for us," Mindy exclaimed.
"He must not have known the value of jewelry, for he left most of the priceless pieces behind. He seemed to have only picked out those that captured his fancy."
Rayne Morgan not know the value of fine jewels? She spun about to face the earl.
"Perhaps he just didn't have enough time to examine each piece before Mindy walked in on him."
Mindy gasped.
"What is it?' the earl queried anxiously.
'My ring! The thief grabbed it off my finger, he did!"
Starlin rushed over to stare down at the woman's trembling hand.
"You remember me wearing a band, milady? My Tobey is gonna be so upset with me. That ring was his mum's."
"Hush now," the earl said in a comforting voice. "I've sent one of the servants to fetch the police. They'll do their best to find your ring."
Starlin sat down beside Mindy once again. "I promise you that I will do everything I can to make certain that you get your ring back."
It was dawn before Starlin was finally alone in her chamber. The servants had straightened everything after the police had finished with their inspection. Starlin lay stretched out on her bed and tried to collect her thoughts.
Not surprisingly, the pirate rogue, Scorpio, and the titled English lord, Rayne Morgan, both intermingled and filled every corner of her mind. And after much soul-searching on her part, she reluctantly had to admit to herself that no matter how she viewed him she still found him absolutely fascinating. Born outlaw, or English lord? That was the question that Starlin was determined to have answered.
Shortly after dawn Starlin sat on the padded window seat in her elegantly appointed bedroom reviewing the events of the past night. Wrapped in a thick down comforter to ward off the chill, ever prevalent in a Tudor home of Eaton Hall's opulent proportions, she curled her legs beneath her and stared out over the sweeping grounds.
Generally, she enjoyed the lovely view provided by the expanse of scarlet-draped windows that ran the entire length of one wall. It was a tranquil setting, with rolling lawns shaded by tall, stately beechwood and ancient limes. Trim boxwood gardens bloomed with colorful arrays of spring flowers, and lilac bushes sweetly perfumed the air. However, this morning she barely noticed. Resting her chin in her hands, her mind was busy plotting every conceivable way to place a noose around that pirate's neck. And then, envisioning such a scene, her heart plummeted. The sensation was most confusing to say the least. Why did she cringe at the thought of his hanging? He deserved it for—? Her inner voice halted, and her hands shook. She uttered a choked cry.
"Oh God ... for what, Starlin? For stealing your jewels—or for making love to you?" Her face grew hot as she recalled his ardent passion, and her response. He was totally crass, and could never love anyone. But then, why should she care? She didn't love him. Couldn't even imagine it! She hated him! Starlin's body shivered with the sweep of emotions surging through her, and her hands clutched the folds of the comforter so tightly that the fine bones were plainly visible beneath her ivory skin. She truly did despise the way he treated her. And she had been a fool to fall beneath his spell last night. Well, no more. Morgan was a hard, distrustful man who cared little for anyone. He only played at being honorable. He was an expert at assessing another's feelings. And when it came to the female species .. . why, he could manipulate a woman's emotions to suit his purpose with effortless ease. Of that she could attest, and would not forget! Her admitted distrust of Morgan sent a horrid thought racing through her head. What if he talked of last night? Her grandfather would hear, and be crushed. Honor meant everything to him. Suddenly, a reckless thought seized her. What if she obtained something of Morgan's to prove he was a pirate? She would then have a means to discredit him if he chose to publicly sully her reputation. It was a crazy idea. Nevertheless, a plan immediately formed in her mind. His ship must be somewhere in English waters. She would find it, sneak on board, and obtain something of his to hold as security should she need it. Only then would she have gained the upper hand.
Starlin knew she must see it through. She resolved to respond favorably to Morgan the next time that they met. Be charming and gracious to him, she told herself, and he will react in kind. And perhaps during the course of conversation if you cleverly pose the right questions, you might learn the whereabouts of his ship. Starlin came quickly to the determination that, however dangerous her daring scheme, she could not fail. She tried not to imagine what Morgan might do to her should he discover her stratagem. He was an aristocrat by birth, and claimed pride, it seemed, in that. She was most certain that he had no desire to have his secret identity and adventurous past shouted about London.
"I shall make him pay if,he tells anyone what transpired between us last night," Starlin murmured with renewed confidence, "and I will never fall prey to him again." She tested this new inner fortitude against his awesome image by closing her eyes and mentally envisioning him. As always, to conjure up his taunting image would send her heart pounding in her breast and a rush of lusty heat through her veins.
"No!" she gritted. "If you allow his mental image to overwhelm you, Starlin, how in the world do you think that you can hope to succeed at this seductive mind game that he plays? Disgusted, she sprang from the window seat and rang for breakfast.
She hoped everyone was back on schedule and the household running efficiently again, for she did not wish to tarry long attending to guests and details. She had much to set into motion today, and the sooner the better. Starlin released the bell cord and crossed over the plush Persian carpet to peer in the oval gilded mirror above the rosewood bureau, taking note of the slight shadows beneath her eyes, evidence of the long night just passed. She would have her maid apply a touch of rice powder, for it would not do to look worn before she'd even begun. Yet it wasn't any wonder she could scarcely keep her eyes open this morning with so little sleep.
It had taken ages for the household to quiet down after the inspector and his men had finished questioning the staff and overnight guests, and had finally departed in the wee hours. It had been their final conclusion that it had simply been one of the many thieves of the city who had chosen the Winfield mansion as his night's work.
"Oh, milady, I knew you wouldn't get any sleep in this room. I don't know why you insisted on staying in here all by yourself."
Starlin glanced up, startled from her reverie to see the upstairs maid, Clara Turner, standing in the room holding a covered tray. She set the offering on a console table.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"No," Starlin admitted.
Clara shook her head. "I figured as much. But to tell you the truth, I can't say as I blame you. I keep thinking about that unfortunate girl, and how she might have been ... you."
&n
bsp; "I feel just awful about the whole thing. How is Mindy this morning?'
Clara poured steaming tea into a china cup. "Much better, mum. It wasn't your fault, and things are back to normal. I took Mindy her breakfast earlier and she polished it all off right quick, she did." She picked up the cup and offered it to Starlin. "Drink this, and then have some of this hot food."
Starlin accepted it and took a sip of the soothing brew. "Clara, please send someone to help me dress. I think I shall ride this morning."
The maid smiled. "Of course, and I'll leave you to enjoy your breakfast. I'll just come back for the dishes later." She paused in the open doorway. "And after tea, why don't you have a long nap before you go off to Almacks this evening."
"I almost forgot that this is Wednesday and I'll be expected to attend the temple of the beau monde." Starlin sighed.
"I believe Lord Courtland is escorting you."
"Yes," Starlin replied with little interest, lifting the lid on a silver bowl. "He left me very little choice. He's so persistent."
It was an hour later before Starlin left the house and waited at the back for the groom to bring her horse from the stables. For mid-June the morning had turned bleak and cold with a lingering mist hovering in the tall sycamores and droplets of crystallike dew blanketing the crisp lawn. Murky streamers of sunlight filtered through low-lying clouds, trying vainly to add a measure of warmth to the day.
Starlin was glad she'd dressed in her warmest habit. It was her favorite. Of the softest rose material with a collar and cuffs trimmed in sable, it enhanced her ivory complexion and added a bloom of color to her cheeks. The slim cut complemented her willowy form. Her lustrous hair was swept beneath a feathered black hat placed at a saucy angle on her head.
Catching sight of the young stable boy rounding the path with the sleek hunter Rue prancing flashily beside him, Starlin waved, impatient to be off.
Once mounted, she glanced down from her lofty position to inquire of Fredrick's whereabouts. She was anxious to discuss last night's events with him.
