Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  "When there's a trip I'm looking forward to taking tomorrow?" she asked Machlin with a faint smile after turning to face him. "Not likely. What did the authorities have to say about my stepfather's … fit?"

  "That's exactly what they decided to call it," he answered with a snort of disgust. "They must have considered the sort of people who usually guested at his house, imagined a murder investigation with those people as suspects, and quickly gave up the idea. They glanced in my direction for a moment or two, but dropping a few names put an end to that. Lots of money and friends in high places are a combination they don't care to go up against."

  "You can't blame them for being practical," Rianne said with a shrug. "If they tried they'd lose, and not only in the matter of proving guilt. The law seems to believe that money can buy anyone free of any crime."

  "The point was more honest when it was a matter of blood money being paid," Machlin grumbled, reluctantly agreeing. "If you killed someone you became responsible for his family, and also had to pay that family a set sum of gold. Now the gold goes to those who declare you innocent, and our modern world considers that progress." He paused and looked at her more closely. "So you still think you want to go to London with me?"

  "There's no 'think' about it," she answered, joining him in dropping an unpleasant subject. "I am going to London, so you might as well accept it. It's as much my right as it is yours."

  "I don't see where risking your life can be considered a right," he countered, folding his arms as he looked down at her. "Since you admire practicality so much, you should be pleased to know I'm thinking seriously about leaving you here under guard. You won't find running away as easy as you did before, not when there are two men at your door day and night."

  "That's not fair!" Rianne hissed, beginning to be furious with the big fool. "And it's also stupid! What if none of those four men can or will identify your quarry? By then he'll know how close you are, and will probably just move elsewhere. Do you want to lose him, maybe for good?"

  "No, I don't, and that's the only reason we're discussing this right now," he replied in a very flat tone. "To be frank, I'd rather gamble that I won't lose him, but I'm willing to consider taking you on two conditions: that you understand that I'm in charge, and listen to me when I tell you to do something. If you expect to run around doing as you please, you can stay here."

  "Why do men always have to be 'in charge'?" she demanded, more than aware of the determination in those cold gray eyes. "What's wrong with a working agreement, a partnership of sorts - "

  "I already have a partner, and you're my wife," he interrupted in the same tone. "If you think obeying me for a change will be the death of you, then by all means let's preserve your life. I'll see to it that you're allowed outside your apartment once a day, but the privilege will be revoked if you make any attempt to escape. Meals will be taken in your sitting room, and - "

  "All right!" she snapped in annoyance, ending that hateful list of restrictions. "You have to be the leader, or you won't play. Go ahead and take advantage of a helpless woman; no one will know, or even care if they do find out."

  "'Helpless woman,'" he echoed with a grin, enjoying his victory. "If all women were as helpless as you, I shudder to think what would become of men. You agree to obey me, then? And won't constantly insist that things be done your way?"

  "Yes, I'll obey you and no, I won't insist on doing things my way," she confirmed with a heavy, put-upon sigh. He thought he was being clever, but there was something he'd missed. Rianne was hoping he would continue to miss it.

  "I really hope you mean that," he said, with what almost sounded like relief. "We'll have enough problems without playing games with each other. If we cooperate, we'll make progress instead of difficulties. You agree?"

  "Certainly," Rianne said, doing nothing to avoid that steady gray gaze. She would do whatever was necessary, just as she always had, in the face of danger or not. Besides, they'd be too busy in London for him to have time to indulge in hysterics. "If that's all, I'd better see about having the rest of my things packed - "

  "But that's not all," he said, his hand coming to her arm as she began to turn away. "You still haven't agreed to my second condition. Obeying me was only the first."

  "What else can there be?" she asked in exasperation, an emotion she wasn't really feeling. Nervous was what she felt, possibly due to the new expression in his eyes. Whatever he had in mind, it was something he would refuse to be denied…

  "If we travel together to London, we'll be traveling as man and wife," he said, his big hand still on her arm. "I've found it necessary to lie too many times in my life. Adding to those occasions when it's unnecessary is something I simply won't do. If we travel as man and wife we'll have to be man and wife, in all ways and not just in name. Do you want to go to London badly enough to share my bed?"

  Rianne parted her lips to answer, but the usual spate of words refused to come. She could feel the faint flush in her cheeks at the bald way he'd put his demand, but not so much that she was distracted. He hadn't simply added that condition as an afterthought; if she didn't agree, he would leave her behind.

  Which meant he was back to wanting her body. For a man who didn't intend to stay married to her, he certainly had a nerve. Once their common enemy was found, their marriage would be over even faster than it had come to be. Mrs. Raymond had been very clear on the point, but Rianne didn't need anyone else telling her that, not when it was so obvious. No man wanted a wife who gave him nothing but trouble…

  And he was also trying to force her to stay behind. He knew how much she'd hated being in his bed on their wedding night, so he'd given her a choice that would suit him whichever way it went. If she refused he could leave her behind, and if she agreed there would be nothing to stop him from pleasuring himself. Come to that, he would probably prefer that she stay behind…

  "I've already said I intend going to London," she announced as casually as possible, silently cursing the blush that refused to stop. "If I also agree to share your bed, will the next thing you ask for be an embroidered nightshirt for the occasion?"

  "No, the agreement alone will do it," he answered, his grin back and widened. "You may have forgotten I don't wear a nightshirt, but don't worry about it. I doubt you'll forget again."

  "If I do, I'm sure you'll remind me," Rianne murmured, wishing she could change the subject to one that would end her ridiculous blushing. And then she remembered a question she really did want to ask, one a good distance removed from blushing.

  "What's wrong?" Machlin asked, apparently picking up on her feelings at once. "Is something bothering you?"

  "I'd - like to ask an intrusive question," Rianne replied, forcing the words out past a great deal of reluctance. She'd seen Machlin's reaction the first time they'd discussed the subject, and she didn't want to add to his pain. "If you'd rather not answer I'll understand, and all you have to do is say so…"

  "Go ahead and ask," he encouraged her, curiosity shading the gray of his eyes. "If it's something I'd rather not talk about, I will say so."

  "All right," she agreed, then plunged in before she lost her nerve. "Your brother Ross. Would it be terrible if I asked what was done to him? I mean, to make him take his own life."

  A shadow of grief brushed the big man again, but he shook it off with a small movement of his head.

  "I'd say if anyone was entitled to ask that, you would have to be the one." His smile was faint as he touched her hair, but it was still encouraging. "I think I should start by explaining how my brothers and I decided on the best way to go out in the world. We all wanted to make our own mark, you understand, as individuals rather than as sons of our father. That way we'd know it was our own ability that got us what we had, not the name and influence of our family."

  Rianne nodded, understanding only too well the need to be one's own person. She'd thought the yearning was reserved to women alone, but apparently there were men who felt the same.

  "My next
older brother Andrew and I chose family names to use simply because we happened to like those names," Machlin continued. "It worked well for both of us, but when it became Ross's turn he decided he would do something different. He fully expected to be as much of a success as Andrew and I were, so he took our mother's family name as his own. Her family has very little money or influence, but it's an old and distinguished name and Ross expected to make it shine.

  "Which he would have, if not for the man who wanted to own him." Machlin's face was expressionless, but Rianne felt a chill from the look in his eyes. "Ross took his first position as a clerk with a shipping company, a position that would let him support himself modestly while he looked around and decided what to invest his start-up money in. It wasn't a very demanding job, but he did have access to payroll shipping schedules that were supposed to be kept secret. He was given that access after being with the company for only three or four months, which proved his employer knew Ross could be trusted.

  "Fortunately or unfortunately, his employer wasn't the only one who knew Ross couldn't be bribed or bought. Ross went out one night for a few drinks with some of his coworkers, and the quarry - or one of his cronies - managed to drug Ross. He woke up in a sleazy inn, in bed with his employer's wife, a woman who had been after him since he first began to work for her husband. He'd ignored all her hints and not-very-subtle invitations, but suddenly he was there in bed with her."

  "But that's not all there was to it," Rianne pounced, knowing the statement as fact. "The books all say a trap like that has to have more, like someone sending a note to the woman's husband. Is that what happened?"

  "Not quite," Machlin said, giving her an odd glance. "The quarry wanted to blackmail Ross into disclosing his company's payroll schedules, so he and his cronies could rob the shipments. That's why a disturbance was reported in the room where Ross and the woman were, so a constable would be sent to investigate. He walked in only a moment or so after Ross came around, and he got a good look at him and the woman. If it came down to it, the constable would have made an impeccable witness."

  "What about the woman?" Rianne asked. "Was she in on the whole thing, and only just pretending to be having an affair?"

  "From what I was able to learn, she'd gotten a note she believed was from Ross, arranging the rendezvous," he answered. "She expected him to be awake when she got there, thought he was drunk when she found him unconscious, but decided to wait until he came out of it."

  "Exactly as she was supposed to do," Rianne said in disgust. "She might as well have been in on it. So why didn't Ross just make the whole thing public, letting people know he had been put in a trap because he was too honest? Some people might not have believed him, but at least it would have taken care of the blackmail problem."

  "But that was the whole point, that some people would not have believed him," Machlin told her wearily. "Ross had trapped himself by choosing to use our mother's family name. Many of the old lines are very rigid in their beliefs about what is and isn't proper, and any breath of scandal at all, even if it isn't true, is completely unacceptable. The quarry knew that and thought Ross was more directly related to the family, which would have been bad enough. That he chose the name and then brought dishonor on it would have been absolutely intolerable, truth or not, trap or not.

  "It was done and couldn't be undone, but Ross still outsmarted them. He couldn't tell the truth, but that didn't mean he had to let himself be blackmailed. He chose the oldest honorable way out, and killed himself. The problem was solved, and could be forgotten about."

  The big man finished his story, and the following silence intensified the pain that had been clear in his words. He missed his brother very much, and Rianne was able to understand that.

  "Your brother was obviously a very brave man," she said, putting a gentle hand to Machlin's arm. "I'm sure he knew he could go to his family for help, but chose instead to reaffirm his honor. It isn't possible to be anything but proud of someone like that, even if you happen to think he was hasty. He did what he thought was best for the people he loved, and I'm sure he did it without regret. I know you can't help being sad, but every now and then you ought to try to smile for his sake. That's what I'd want if I'd done as he had."

  "You know, you just may be right," Machlin said, his eyes looking fractionally less haunted as he did smile. "Ross was the sort of man who would have been embarrassed at being mourned, but not at being avenged. And we're going to avenge him together, aren't we?"

  "As long as you don't have any more requirements on your list," Rianne agreed wryly. "Like having me walk to London barefoot, for instance, or demanding that I first answer the riddle of the meaning of life. I'd better warn you that if you do come up with anything else, I'm going to start suspecting you of being in league with our enemy."

  "How can I ask you to answer a riddle I've never even heard of?" he returned with a grin that was trying hard to took innocent. "But as far as walking barefoot to London goes, that might not be a bad idea. It would certainly keep you occupied and out of trouble, especially if I sent some of my men along to keep an eye on you. That was a very good suggestion, and I'll have to give it some thought."

  "Then you've given up on demanding that I share your bed?" Rianne came back at once. She knew he was teasing her, and wasn't above doing some teasing herself. "That would only make sense, after all. I mean, you aren't going to have a bed on the road to London, and even if you did it wouldn't help. After a full day of walking barefoot I'll be interested in nothing but soaking my feet, and - "

  "All right, all right, I surrender," he interrupted with a laugh, holding both hands up, palms toward her. "Making you walk is a terrible idea, and I'm sorry I even considered it. Do you forgive me the mistake?"

  "I don't believe in forgiving men quite that quickly," Rianne informed him, trying to keep her amusement out of the haughty statement. "I'm told that hasty forgiving usually ruins a man, and women should avoid doing it whenever possible."

  "I'd like to know who could possibly have told you that," Machlin said with a mock frown. "It's a dirty lie and probably libelous, and I just may speak to my solicitor about instituting a suit. It wasn't those two adopted brothers of yours, was it?"

  "Don't be silly," Rianne said, now showing a superior smile. "It was Lady Margaret who told me that, the lady who told you on our wedding day just how terrible a person I was. You do remember her, don't you? Well, she's the one you'll have to sue, and not just for that bit of advice. You'd never believe how much more there is."

  "Oh, yes, I would," Machlin shot back, now pretending to be appalled. "It so happens I remember the lady very well, so the suit is off. But only if you promise not to mention any of the other points. If you don't promise, I'll just have to sue the two of you."

  "Oh, very well," Rianne conceded, fighting not to laugh aloud. "If you're going to let it get you that upset, I have no choice but to promise. After all, how would it look: the two of us just about to catch our quarry, and you suddenly bursting into tears."

  "Now that you already know, I can admit I have that problem regularly," he said, putting out one hand to stroke her arm. "Bursting suddenly into tears, I mean. I think it happens because of that terrible disease called the empty-arms plague, and I'm told there's only one cure for it. Let's try it and see."

  The hand on her arm pulled her closer to him, and then those arms were around her as his lips lowered to hers. His kiss was gentle and undemanding, but only in the same way drawing a sword from its scabbard wasn't part of an attack. The gesture indicated more to come - of an entirely different nature. Rianne felt an odd, unexpected, but immediate tingling when his lips coaxed hers into joining in. And then, much too soon, it was over.

  "That was much better than the first time, and I may even be cured," he murmured, one hand against her hair. "We'll get some more of that in tonight just to be sure, but right now we both have things to do. Earlier I thought this day would be too short, but now I know I'll find it endless. I
can't wait until tonight, when I'll be able to hold you in my arms again, wife."

  He released her then, but only to take her hand. Rianne felt that tingle come back when he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it while those gray eyes clung to her face. And then he was gone, striding away toward the barracks at the back of the house. Rianne just stood there staring after him, wondering why she felt so odd, wondering why he had acted so odd…

  "Of course," she muttered with exasperated amusement, watching his broad back recede. "He's starting to play those games again, just the way he did on our wedding night. He knows I don't have much experience with men, and he expects to take advantage again. I wonder…"

  The thought that came to her was a wicked one, and it made her grin. Belatedly she'd thought of a plan for their wedding night, one she hadn't, of course, had a chance to try. If he enjoyed games so much, couldn't he be expected to enjoy one of hers? It would be interesting to see how well he did against something he had no experience with. And that she was almost completely certain of; no woman would ever have treated him like that…

  Still wearing a small smile, Rianne made her way back to the house. That brief conversation had been amusing and she was really looking forward to tonight, but only because of her plan. Without the plan there would be nothing to look forward to, of course, nothing at all…

  After getting the men taken care of and his wife's two "brothers" settled in after their arrival from the roadhouse, Bryan went back to the house. The wounded boy would be fine, the other was cautiously impressed, and he liked the looks of them both. All the new men's training would continue while he was gone, since he planned to take only four of their instructors with him. Any more than four would make his trained force overly obvious, which residents of London certainly would not appreciate.

  Still, to be on the safe side, he'd sent a messenger to arrange for more of his trained men to meet them later. They would wait at a small farm about an hour's ride from London, out of obvious sight but available if he should need them…