Suzanne Robinson

by The Treasure

  Valin’s mouth was already open. Now his eyes widened to the size of dessert plates and blood rushed to his head. Confusion and horror burned through Valin’s mind while his body turned into glacial ice. He couldn’t speak or move.

  “My sweet, sweet Valin,” Carolina purred, “at last you’re here.”

  Valin gawked at her as she sauntered over to him. Surveying him from head to foot. The pupils of her eyes were dilated, and she slurred her words slightly.

  “I had an argument with myself,” she said. “The good Carolina said to wait. After all, you haven’t even been to university yet. But naughty Carolina had a fit. She’s so, so anxious, you see. And naughty Carolina won.”

  Valin swallowed hard as she stood in front of him, hands on her bare hips, the dressing gown hanging from her arms and trailing behind her.

  “Come, Valin. Say something instead of standing there looking like a stunned buck.”

  His mouth dry, his body stiff, Valin felt as if he was separate from the scene being played. He watched as Carolina took his hand and placed it on her breast. That touch jolted him out of his daze.

  He shoved Carolina away and turned to leave, but she quickly twisted him around and sank her hand into his hair, pulling his face toward her. Her mouth was almost touching his before he was able to disentangle himself and back away. She came after him, and he sped up to avoid her grasp. Her grin should have warned him, but he lost his balance before he realized he’d backed into the bed.

  His stepmother was there as he landed. Slipping a knee between his legs, she placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him deep into the mattress. Alarmed, Valin freed one arm and tried to get a grip on the woman. Suddenly he felt something around his wrist. His arm was jerked, and he realized Carolina had tied a leather thong around his wrist and attached it to a bedpost. Stunned, he watched as she slipped another thong around his other wrist.

  “Be still, lover,” Carolina said. “You’re going to like this.”

  “No!”

  Valin bucked and yanked against the thongs—but they held. Carolina had apparently done this before.

  Now she was breathing hard from their struggles, but her humor remained. “I should have taken more time with you, my pretty. But I do so like a man with a little fight in him.”

  When Valin tried to free his arms again she slid on top of him, slipped her hand under his shirt and found his waist. Valin tried to shake her off, but he couldn’t prevent her from moving her hand between his legs. When she squeezed him gently, he let out a roar of outrage and lunged up, off the bed. This time Carolina toppled to the floor with him. One of Valin’s wrists was still tethered to the bedpost, but the violence of their struggle had wrenched the frame apart. One post crashed against a bedside table, sending a candelabrum skidding to hit the far wall, where floor-length curtains framed a window.

  Fighting to free his bound wrist, Valin had no time to escape when Carolina pounced on him again. She took his mouth in a violent kiss. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the flames. He tried to speak, but Carolina’s tongue was in his mouth. Desperate, Valin stopped trying to fight her and concentrated on freeing himself from the broken bedpost. While her hands roamed over him, invading and arousing a response he couldn’t control, Valin tried to untie the leather thong. It had been jerked even tighter by the fall.

  Without warning, Carolina released his mouth.

  “There’s a fire, damn you!” he cried.

  She wasn’t listening. Her gaze caressed the flames, and to his horror Valin realized the danger had only excited her more. She looked down at him and tore his shirt open.

  “You make me burn as hot as the fire.”

  Valin’s body tensed with a strength he hadn’t possessed before, and the thong snapped. Leaping up, he sprang away from her.

  “Come on. We have to get out.”

  She pulled her bedraggled dressing gown around her shoulders as the flames jumped from the curtains to the bed. “Just a few minutes, pretty one. We have that much time, and it will be so good with the fire almost on us.”

  Valin’s stream of curses was cut short when flames shot across the ceiling. In less than a second the wall by the door was ablaze. Carolina didn’t seem to care, and Valin realized she was either drunk or had taken some drug.

  But the crackle and roar of the fire spurred Valin. “Come now, damn it!”

  He worked his way across the room and hurtled through the flames that surrounded the door. Once outside, he found that his stepmother hadn’t followed him. Carolina stood where he’d left her. He yelled for her to hurry. Something of his desperation must have reached her at last. Gathering her dressing gown around her, she rushed toward him, but the fire shot across the carpet and into her skirts.

  Valin tried to go back, but the searing heat blocked him. Fire burned his clothes. He could hear Carolina screaming as he stumbled back, coughing. In desperation, he ran downstairs for water. There was an old pump in the kitchen yard. Valin grabbed a bucket and filled it, but by the time he got to the stairs the fire had spread to the landing. He could still hear his stepmother screaming.

  Horrified, Valin rushed outside again, this time to his horse. He had his foot in the stirrup when his father galloped up, shouting at him.

  “What’s happened?”

  His throat hoarse, lungs burned, Valin gasped out, “Carolina is in there. We’ve got to get help!”

  They stared at each other for a terrible moment, then his father was gone. Valin sprang after him, catching him only at the front door.

  “You can’t go in there,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  His father shrugged him off, but he caught the older man again. This time, without a word, his father spun around and clipped Valin on the chin. Valin hit the ground swimming in pain, then blacked out. When he regained consciousness he was in the midst of a milling crowd, and the entire lodge was aflame. Valin struggled to his feet and stumbled toward it, but two men held him back. As he fought them, a figure carrying another person appeared at one of the upper windows. Or was it his imagination?

  Valin screamed and pointed, but no one else saw. “Let me go, damn you, he’s there!”

  “We don’t see nothin’, and it don’t matter, sir. Whoever’s in there is for it. Jesus, Billie, help me with him.”

  Valin tried to hit one of his captors, and got a punch to the jaw that sent him into blackness once again.

  The darkness dissolved, as did the years, and Valin returned to the present to find himself standing in the middle of the lawn. The ladies had noticed him and were calling. He managed to wave and smile as he trudged toward them.

  Acton had been right. He was mad to consider marriage. What woman of virtue and honor would want to marry a murderer?

  10

  The morning after she’d left Valin floundering in the yew maze, Emmie sat beside Courtland in his study in the Gallery Tower. Underneath her tranquil exterior—while she listened to her host and nodded with interest—her entire being vibrated with turmoil. If she’d been piano wire she would have popped loose and zinged across the room. Last night she’d set out to cause the marquess trouble, and she’d succeeded. It had been exciting to provoke him out of his stern and masterful complacency.

  And then she’d lost her wits in the yew maze. Valin North had driven her mad with anger and temptation at the same time, and she had grown so confused that she actually allowed him to kiss her. No, she had kissed him. Gracious mercy, what akiss. A few more moments of that kind of kissing, and she would have ended up on the ground with him, making the yews shake.

  Dear heaven. She hadn’t known kissing could be like that, hadn’t suspected what it could lead to. If Betsy ever found out, she’d laugh. All her friends would snicker and tease her for falling under the spell of an accomplished seducer like the marquess. How humiliating.

  Everyone had heard stories about Valin and the Countess of Maxa, and Lady Perdita Strangeways, and Mrs. George William Arbut
hnot. How dare he try to add her to that list?

  She had to put Valin North in his proper place in her head—that of a rich dupe. But try as she might, he refused to remain in this safe category. She was desperate to hide that fact from her friends, and she longed to hide it from herself as well, but the truth was that Valin North was no dupe, and certainly not her prey. Indeed, it seemed that the moment she got near him her prey turned into a predator, one she feared she might not be able to resist.

  The solution was to put him out of her thoughts. She ought to feel quite satisfied this morning, because she’d found a way to get into the Gallery Tower without arousing suspicion. She’d befriended Courtland North, and it was to his studies that many of the rooms in the tower were dedicated. The young man had been flustered by her attention at first, then heartbreakingly grateful to find a lady who wanted to listen to him.

  Another reason for her to be satisfied was unexpected. She was wearing a prim gown chosen specially for this visit with Valin’s brother. It was a high-necked day dress of dusky blue. Made of soft chambray with a lace collar, it had graceful flared sleeves and undersleeves of embroidered muslin.

  In her real life she’d never wear anything so delicate during the day, certainly not in the streets of St. Giles. Wearing this soft and impractical gown in daytime, here, in a clean, paneled room filled with books, made her feel more like a lady than wearing the finest ball gown. Betsy had rolled her eyes when she helped Emmie dress, and Emmie knew her friend thought she’d worn the gown for the marquess. The idea was absurd.

  Emmie sternly remembered her purpose. After this lay was over, the gowns would be sold and the money added to her savings for the children.

  To befriend Valin’s brother, she’d persuaded him that she shared his interest in things medieval. This ruse would afford her a glimpse of the rooms he used in the Gallery and an excuse to wander into the tower later.

  The young man had been chattering for a quarter hour about his latest purchase. Emmie had but to nod once in a while and exclaim a few times. Then he was off again on another explanation. All the while Emmie darted glances about Courtland’s document room in search of spirals. The chamber had been made over by Beaufort shortly before his arrest, and she had great hopes for it.

  “I know you’ll appreciate this.” Courtland rose and opened a glass case with hushed reverence.

  Emmie joined him. Within the case rested a large illuminated parchment. Knowing nothing about it, Emmie feigned amazement.

  “Do tell me about this marvel, Lord Courtland.”

  “It’s the full achievement of William, fourth Marquess of Winchester. Look at the first quarter of the shield. It shows Paulet Sable, three swords in pile, points downward, Argent pommels, and hilts Or. Isn’t it magnificent?”

  “Argent pommels,” Emmie breathed. “Amazing.”

  “I knew you’d appreciate the artistry.”

  “Oh, indeed.” Emmie examined the paneling behind the document case, but she found no decoration. The wood in this room seemed free of almost any carving beyond the Beaufort arms.

  “Miss de Winter, are you listening?”

  “Of course,” Emmie replied as she turned back to Courtland with a smile. “You were talking about the animals used to make up heraldic devices.”

  Courtland beamed at her. “Yes. It’s quite simple, you know. In the thirteenth century, for example, rolls of arms include barbels, lucies—which are pike—and hake, for the families of Bar, Lucy, and Hacket.”

  “That makes wonderful sense.” Emmie ran her hand over a Tudor period chest in which Courtland stored some of his reference books. “Why don’t you show me that chimneypiece with the Beaufort achievement carved on it.”

  “Do you really want to see it?” Courtland looked past her and smiled. “There you are. We’ve been having the most fascinating conversation.”

  Emmie whirled around, suspecting the worst. She was right. Valin North stood in the doorway. What was he doing here? Had he discovered her true object in coming to Agincourt Hall? She watched him warily as he came into the room with that slow, graceful walk that reminded her of a king going to his coronation in Westminster Abbey. He drew near, took her hand, and kissed it. Emmie withdrew it as soon as she could, and ignored the way her body tingled even after his touch was gone.

  “Hello, Courtland old fellow. I went looking for my dear Miss de Winter and couldn’t find her, until the ladies told me you’d abducted her.”

  Courtland was already reading one of his books. “What? Oh, well, Miss de Winter is the only young lady here who has sense enough to appreciate history. Did you know she’s interested in the Elizabethan period? She knows all about old Beaufort and his troubles with Queen Bess.”

  “Does she?”

  Emmie looked away when Valin regarded her with a skeptical expression.

  “I was going to show her the Beaufort chimneypiece upstairs, but now you’re here, you can do it. I want to find that record of the visitation by Windsor Herald. It was in that lot you let me buy a few weeks ago, and it’s from this county in 1588, the year of the Armada. Miss de Winter especially wanted to see it.”

  Emmie glanced at Valin’s severe expression. “I’m not in a hurry, Courtland. We’ll wait for you.”

  “Nonsense,” Valin said as he gripped her arm and steered her out of the room. “Old Courtland will get distracted by some rotting battle standard or a bestiary, and we’ll never see the damned chimneypiece.”

  Once the door shut on his brother Valin released Emmie. “What are you doing?”

  “Whatever do you mean, my lord?” He’d found her out. Nothing to do but face him.

  “You’re hiding from me.”

  Emmie stared at him blankly. “Me, hide from you?” She laughed with nervous relief.

  Valin snatched her wrist and bent down to her eye level.

  “Then why are you pretending to be interested in Courtland’s studies? All the young ladies avoid him as if he were a leper.”

  Yanking her hand free, Emmie straightened her flared sleeves. “If they do, they’re stupid and insensitive. Anyone can see your brother is intelligent and sweet-tempered and perceptive.” Emmie glanced up from her sleeve. “And it would take more than a bullying nobleman to make me hide.”

  “You’re serious.”

  Emmie merely lifted her brows. Valin glanced at the closed door, then offered his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, Emmie placed her hand on it, and they walked upstairs. She wasn’t going to let him think she was afraid to be alone with him. He opened a door set in a pointed arch, and with a sweep of his arm ushered Emmie inside another tower room.

  This chamber had a series of tall windows with pointed arches of the same design as the one over the door. Through them Emmie saw a wide swath of sky, the park, and wooded hills that rolled to the horizon. The windows had been opened, and a breeze played with her skirts. Emmie forgot her nervousness.

  Captivated by the airiness of the room and the contrast between the azure sky and forest green of the hills, Emmie hurried to one of the windows. Outside the world was clean. In St. Giles everything from the roofs to the cobbles was covered with damp soot and grime from coal fires and the myriad industrial processes that went on in the city.

  For days at a time London was shrouded in a choking yellow fog. When the fog retreated, bright sunshine only served to reveal the dinginess of Emmie’s surroundings. She leaned out the window and breathed in air free of coal and gas fumes and the stench of filth. She was going to hate returning to London.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Emmie started and hit her head on the window. “Bloody damnation!” She pressed her hand to her head and allowed Valin to guide her away from the window.

  “My apologies again, Miss de Winter.”

  “Wasn’t your fault,” Emmie mumbled as she rubbed her head. “I was thinking of something else.”

  “What?”

  “How much nicer it is here than in London.”

  �
�I agree,” Valin said as he sat down next to her on the bench in front of the window. “That’s why I stay here rather than in town most of the time. But I wanted to apologize for mistaking your intentions toward my brother. You see, you’re one of the few women who has ever appreciated him.”

  He smiled at her, and Emmie felt her heart start to do that disturbing polka again. She felt the corners of her mouth wander upward, and before she knew it she was smiling back at him. For a tyrant, Valin North took a deal of trouble over a reclusive younger brother.

  His smile faded a bit, and became rueful. “I just wish I could lure old Courtland away from his studies for a while.”

  Emmie shrugged. “Why should he leave them when he isn’t wanted?”

  “What do you mean? I want him. I’ve tried many times to get him to do something else.”

  “Why?”

  Valin gave an exasperated sigh. “To give him other interests. So I can spend some time with him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s my brother,” Valin snapped.

  “And?”

  Valin scowled at her, but Emmie folded her arms and waited.

  “And?” Valin repeated.

  “He’s your brother, and …”

  Valin gave her a confused look, and Emmie threw up her hands.

  “And you love him! Did you ever say that to him?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” Valin said. “A chap doesn’t go around saying things like that.”

  “Why not?”

  Thrusting himself off the bench, Valin stalked away from her while running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Because he’s a chap, that’s why.”

  “Oh, I see. Chaps don’t love their brothers.”

  Valin rounded on her. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Miss de Winter, I find this subject most inappropriate. Look at the chimneypiece.”

  She’d forgotten again! Gracious mercy, she lost all sense when this man was around. She looked down at her hands. They were trembling! When had they started trembling? It was when he’d thrust his fingers through his hair. That soft mahogany hair. God deliver her from beautiful tyrants.