Stormfire

by Christine Monson

  "Don't jump to conclusions, Colonel. Miss Flynn has a mind of her own, and my brother is more inclined to game- keeping than I."

  Amauri glanced at Liam; certainly the young lord wore the look of a jealous man. His efforts to keep his eyes from the English girl were almost pathetic. Still, it would be wise to be careful. Catherine Enderly had the potential of a spark in a powder keg. He cocked his head. "So? Mademoiselle Flynn and your brother have an arrangement?"

  Sean shrugged. If the Frenchman knew Catherine, it was best to let him think she was visiting Shelan incognito to have a private dalliance. Amauri would play a close hand if he knew his host was her lover. Only an idiot would make overtures to an ally's woman before going into war beside him—or in front of him.

  The Frenchmen surrounded Catherine like a school of fish as the riders rode out across the countryside, but shortly after Tim sounded the horn and the pack set out in full cry, her big black led the pursuit. Amauri maintained the pace until they neared the fringes of a sparse wood. That such a rarity must be Klendenon's Bog, he realized from study of Irish campaign maps, and he remembered a shortcut lay down a rocky ravine. Sean saw him veer off, and guessing why, let Mephisto have his head and drive through the main group of riders until he alone was in sight of Catherine. As he came over the rise, she was turning south to follow the hounds when Amauri cut her off and waved her to follow him. Without hesitation, she disappeared after him into the wooded glen.

  In the shelter of the trees, the Frenchman dismounted. He helped Catherine off her horse, then after leading her by the hand to a fallen tree, indicated for her to sit. He stood watching her. "I had to see you alone. Tu com- prends?"

  "Yes."

  "What are you doing here, Catherine?" he asked in French. "Your father said you were in Capri, then Monte- bello. Every time I inquired about you, it was somewhere different."

  "Is that so strange? You know I was bored by school. And I adore traveling," she drawled with light defiance, almost daring contradiction.

  "Does your father know you're here?"

  "I suppose so. But then, he's a busy man. Too busy to bother keeping track of my every movement. And I'm a busy woman. I'm enjoying my freedom." The lovely smile was teasing.

  "You've changed."

  "Have I? In what way?"

  "For one thing, you've beeome beautiful." He walked around her. "I anticipated it, only not like this. It's quite incredible."

  "I was leading the hunt, Raoul. Have you really brought me out here for belated flattery?" The smile still played about her mouth.

  He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "You don't even bother to blush when a man looks you over. Yes, you are very different, I think. No longer just a cocky little schoolgirl. You're more assured, less . . . virginal."

  She looked him in the eye. "We'll soon be missed, Raoul. I suggest you return to the house. A loose shoe, perhaps. I shall have taken a tumble, unfortunately joining the others after they've gloriously mangled the fox."

  "Tres facile. But, chirie, you dislike hunting. Why pursue the fox so hotly if you don't wish to claim the trophy?"

  She stood up. "I take pleasure in riding an unpredictable course." Her head tilted up at him. "Women delight in perversity. Any good Frenchman knows that."

  "Ah, yes. Perversity." He snapped his fingers. "Perhaps that's it. I should have thought Lord Liam Culhane to be a most predictable man. His brother seems to promise more challenge. But possibly you didn't realize that when it began and now continue your affair out of. . . perversity."

  Catherine's expression did not change. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Your affair with Lord Culhane. That's why you're here incognito, isn't it? His brother hinted as much." He sighed. "You've broken my heart, chirie. I should so much have liked to be first."

  She tapped his chest with the crop. "With a cocky little schoolgirl? Ch&ri, don't speak to me of challenge."

  His eyes crinkled teasingly. "Oh, I'll survive the disappointment of missing the. appetizer, so long as I may enjoy the banquet at leisure."

  "An invitation to dine is not forthcoming, Raoul. I suggest you satisfy your appetite elsewhere."

  He struck his forehead in mock chagrin. "Quelle d&esse cruelle!" He looked at her beseechingly. "Don't you like me anymore?"

  For the first time, a trace of her old familiar smile flickered about her lips. "Yes, Raoul, I like you. How could I not? You're irresistible, always able to make me laugh."

  He looked at her shrewdly. "Even now, when you don't want to?"

  She deliberately misunderstood. "But you're wrong, Raoul I'm not angry—although you've spoiled the hunt—just a bit disappointed. There will be so little of this sort of amusement for a long while."

  "Why do you say that?"

  Her lashes flicked up. "What do you take me for? I know why the Meridian is here."

  Amauri's brown eyes imperceptibly hardened. "Did Liam Culhane tell you?"

  She smiled. "That would make him not only a reassuringly boring lover, but a dangerously unreliable ally. Not the sort to be cozy with, especially in war. No, Liam told me nothing, but it's not difficult to put two and two together. Papa, too, has had arrangements with your government for some time. That must have been why you visited Windemere in the first place. What will he gain from this? A dukedom? That's next on his agenda, I'm sure . . . even better"—the thought stwick her even as she spoke—"a dukedom and the chair of the governor general of Ireland." She laughed lightly at his frown. "Naturally you've promised leadership of the government—to the Culhanes as well. They have a legitimate claim, I believe. What a scramble that will be!" She ran the crop along a log. "I suppose poor Papa will be disappointed. Now that he's disgraced, he cannot be of much use to you. So it's either Culhane or one of Napoleon's numerous relatives on the throne of Tara. Which do you put your money on, mon cher Raoul?"

  "I reserve gambling to horses. Losses may be expensive, but rarely fatal." He came up behind her. "Would you like to be a queen, p'tite?"

  She laughed scoffingly. "I want more pleasure out of life." Then, as if toying with the thought, she began to adjust her veil. "Still, being a mere-princess might be convenient. I suppose Liam would be a prince?"

  She turned her head, her eyes luring him as if behind a harem veil, and he caught her shoulders in spite of himself. "So you are having an affair with him!"

  She smiled slowly. "It was you who said he was predictable, not I."

  Amauri pulled her close and his senses began to take over his he felt the ripened body beneath her habit. "Catherine, don't meddle in this. It's too dangerous. We're all sitting atop a powder keg. You're behaving as if it were all a game."

  "Your concern is endearing, but—"

  "Catherine, don't be stupid! You must leave Ireland. Every day you spend with that fair-haired fop—"

  "Don't play the jealous suitor. I admit I was infatuated with you once, but then, you said yourself I was a child."

  "You still are!" His voice dropped to a murmur. "Only now you have the body of a woman. You're maddening. . ."

  She eluded his lips. "You don't have to seduce me to ensure my reliability. It must have been quite a surprise, finding an English bomb in the midst of your conspirators. I have no intention of interfering with your plans, for you see, I am in love. The end of this rebellion will see me married to Liam Culhane, my fortunes a barometer of France's success in Ireland."

  He released her abruptly. "You're not serious! You don't know your own mind."

  "I've never been more sure of anything." Catherine went to Numidian and gathered the reins. "And now, I think we should consider the matter closed."

  The Frenchman clicked his heels in an angry bow. "As you say, Comtesse."

  She mounted easily without assistance and watched as he vaulted into his own saddle. "Raoul?"

  "Yes?" he replied curtly.

  "If anything should happen to Liam, I would hold you personally responsible."

  His eyes narrowed
. "Do you take me for a murderer?"

  She regarded him levelly. "Nothing so crude. For instance, if I had proved difficult this afternoon and unfortunately suffered a broken neck in a fall, my demise would have been classified as an assassihation under the circumstances, n'eat-ce pas? A very detached word, assassination. Nothing personal about it at all."

  He gave her an appraising look, then rode away at a hard gallop.

  Catherine nudged Numidian into a walk in the opposite direction. She felt curiously light-headed and cold, even though the sun streamed warmly though the wasted oaks and rowan trees. She did not even turn her head when Sean's voice drifted over her shoulder. "Well done, Kitten. Though there were moments I thought I might have to shoot him." The Irishman reined in beside her on the path. "Do you play whist?"

  She smiled faintly. "Dare I say when I learned?"

  "Never mind. Stay away from him, Catherine." She gave him a sidelong look. "It's not that, though his balls make a tempting target. He hasn't swallowed your story yet."

  "The story you fed him," she retorted ironically. "Still, I hadn't come up with a better one. If I'd admitted being involved with you, he might have thought you were setting a trap with Father's backing. After all, Papa's allegiances tend to be somewhat shifty."

  Sean smiled faintly. "Not anymore. He's becoming a faithful Englishman in spite of himself."

  "More of your conniving?"

  The Irishman shrugged. "Even I didn't guess Napoleon might have promised him a place in government. That was a deft shot. You're beginning to show a scheming streak, pet."

  "Uneasy?"

  "Should I be?"

  "As Raoul said, things could go wrong. If. . . something did, what would you do?"

  "What would you want me to do?"

  "Cut and run."

  "To end up fighting for Napoleon instead of for Ireland? Not likely. I don't like his ideas of conquest any better than you."

  "Then fight against him." , "It's a fine choice you're giving me, girl: to join the English army or march with that Corqican bastard all over Europe. If I'm going to fight and die, I'd as lief do it on my own turf, for my own people."

  "Then you won't leave?"

  "The others can if they want."

  "You'd die, uselessly?" she whispered incredulously.

  "Brooding before battle has a way of fouling luck. You'll come to no harm in any case. I'm sending you to Canada to stay with friends until it's over. You sail on the Sylvie the morning after the ball. I've set an income aside for you. In case of my death, you'll inherit everything I have. The day the fighting's over, for good or ill, you're free to spit in my eye or on my grave, whichever the case may be."

  "You said once . . ."

  "That I'd follow you anywhere? I'll never be sure of you unless you're free to turn away and not come back. When those men looked at you this afternoon, I felt as if I'd been making love to a mirage." Abruptly, he twitched Mephisto off the path. "We'd better separate here." He did not look back.

  CHAPTER 14

  Duels

  The provocatively cut gown left Catherine's breasts and shoulders alluringly bare. Her sapphire silk shimmered in the light of massive candelabras that lined the dining table. Sean had chosen to dress her with scandalous, if excellent, taste, and with reason. She felt like another woman, one who had never endured hard work. Exactly what I might have become, she thought behind a smile that expressed nothing but attention to the subtly suggestive repartee of her dinner partner, General Fournel.

  "Your eyes are fascinating, mademoiselle; at once inviting a man to the most wicked imaginings, yet distant as the stars."

  Amauri lazed in the chair opposite. "Ah, one must beware of cold goddesses, mon General. Wasn't it the huntress Diana who had her lover turned into a stag and torn to bits by her hounds for venturing too close?"

  "Actaeon was not her lover, Colonel," drawled Catherine. "He was merely impertinent."

  Courbier, the puppyish young lieutenant, leaned forward laughing. "Surely, mademoiselle, a woman so lovely as you could never be cruel."

  "If men transform women into goddesses, they must expect less than docile behavior."

  Liam, on her left, sardonically raised his glass. "Heed the lady well, gentlemen, lest you become dog food ere morn."

  The lieutenant looked at him good-naturedly. "Have you had sad experience with goddesses, milord?"

  "There are no goddesses, Lieutenant. They're an artistic fiction. As the lady suggests, all lies."

  Liam was more inebriated than Catherine had ever seen him. Her eyes flicked toward Sean at the far end of the table. He seemed to be listening to a guest with polite boredom, but when his eyes met hers, she knew he had missed little of the conversation between Liam and the lieutenant.

  "But, milord," another officer was protesting, "men must be permitted a few pleasant illusions."

  "Especially if they insist on dying for them; otherwise, who would fight to protect another man's potatoes," inserted Amauri, slyly eying Liam. "And women, too, must have their illusions, love being their particular favorite. What do you expect of love, Mademoiselle Flynn?"

  Catherine lifted her glass. "C'est merveil leux, when one can afford it." Secretly, she was furious with Amauri for taunting Liam through, her.

  "Quel cynisme. C'est dommage," Amauri sighed. "Still, surely you believe in the immortality of glory?"

  "Immortality is a masculine word. To a woman, only life matters."

  "Then you cannot be in favor of war, mademoiselle?"

  She gave him a slow smile. "I'm relieved I'm not obliged to be a soldier."

  The lieutenant laughed. "Bravo, Mademoiselle Flynn! To waste such beauty as cannon fodder would be idiocy!"

  Amauri glanced at Liam, then- looked at her. "But surely courage should be coupled with beauty?"

  Catherine laughed. "If you doubt my nerve, Colonel, why not call me out?"

  "You, mademoiselle? Have you no gallant protector?"

  "Will I do?" interrupted Liam nastily.

  Catherine lightly tapped his sleeve with her fan. "No, milord. You shall not cheat me. I am the one whose ferocity is questioned."

  Amauri gave a Gallic shrug and grinned. "My dear young lady, I cannot fight a woman."

  "Why not? Every tradition needs a little airing, n'est-ce pas? Come, it will be amusing."

  Amauri, in expectation of some parlor game, sighed. "Very well, mademoiselle, if you insist. I challenge."

  "I choose knives," said Catherine swiftly, rising to her feet and flicking the fan open.

  Amauri blinked and a rustling murmur went round the table. Liam was livid, Sean's eyes almost slitted. "But, mademoiselle, surely you must reconsider!" Amauri protested. "Pistols loaded with paper pellets, perhaps? Then you may have a fair chance."

  "Colonel, you questioned my courage. I haven't been in awe of paper wads since a tutor made me eat those I had leveled at him." The fan waved languidly. "You are familiar with knives, Colonel? I shouldn't wish to put you at the disadvantage."

  Amauri reddened. "But of course."

  "Good. The foyer in fifteen minutes? My lord Culhane won't want his ballroom parquetry scuffed." With a snap of her fan, Catherine sailed out the door.

  Faced with a barrage of questions, Sean was unable to follow Catherine upstairs until the guests crowded from the dining room into the foyer. He met her just outside her bedroom door. Barefoot in Tim's clothing, hair in a knot atop her head, she slipped a long knife into her belt, then saw him. Waving a warning hand, she backed from his intent look. "Oh, no. You're not stopping me. Raoul's getting his fight."

  "Where did you get that knife?"

  "Flannery gave it to me. To fend off undesirables."

  "Give it to me."

  "No," she said quietly. "Amauri tried to bait Liam into making a fool of himself, perhaps a dead fool. If I can make him appear the fool tonight, he won't dare cause any more trouble."

  Sean caught her arms. "When Amauri sees you're in earnest, he'l
l stop playing games. I'll not have you sliced up."

  Their eyes locked. "You said I was free."

  His hands dropped. "I did, but you're taking wild advantage of it."

  She smiled impishly. "Don't worry. I mean to prick the colonel's pride, not his hide."

  "I'm not concerned about that."

  Her smile faded. "I won't be careless."

  Sean let her go down alone. He stood in the hallway for a moment, his mind in a knot. Was she trying to force him to split the alliance? If he had to interfere in the duel to save her, she would have created a nice mess. And it was probable her increasingly devious mind had entertained just that notion. He wondered if he was trying to tame a filly that couldn't be broken.

  When Sean reached the foyer, his mistress and the colonel were ringed by military men and muttering civilians. The women were scandalized by Catherine's bold manner and masculine attire. She stood boyishly with hands on hips, bare feet spread on the black-and-white marble. Having removed his coat, Amauri stood rolling up his sleeves. He eyed her with some amusement. "So, mademoiselle, we are about to have a demonstration of your formidable needlepointskills."

  She cocked her head and drawled, "It's time you had a lesson in stitchery, Colonel. Our good doctor will explain everything as he sews you up."

  Lieutenant Courbier and two of the Irishmen snickered, but immediately stifled as General Fournel shot them a look and stepped forward. "You do intend to use point-guards?"

  She smiled. "But of course, General. I was only teasing your handsome colonel. I shall take every precaution, naturally." She turned to Sean. "Mr. Culhane, have you guards?"

  Grimly, he nodded and waved a servant toward his study. The man returned with weapon guards and presented them. Catherine selected one and slipped it on her knife. "Thank you. We shall not need the other."

  Fournel turned red as Amauri's smile grew a bit tight. "Monsieur Culhane, I protest! This is impossible."

  Sean leaned casually against the stair rail and shrugged. "Miss Flynn was challenged. She may dictate rules concerning weapons."