by Louise Allen
‘His lordship’s men. I have not been able to convince them that I have neither the object nor the money.’
‘Yeah, they look a bit thick. What’ll we do with them, then? Nice deep river out there.’
‘Go and get the carriage. You can drive them over to our friend in Avallon—I’m sure he’ll keep them snug for a week or two.’
‘Yeah.’ A broad grin spread over Hythe’s face. ‘I’ll do that thing—the carriage is outside, I haven’t taken the team out of harness yet. You all right, guv’nor?’
‘Fine. You know what head wounds are like for blood. Nothing we can’t take care of.’
Elinor wrestled the shotgun out of his hands and gave it to Hythe, then followed the man down the stairs, pistol in hand, until she was sure he had the two helpless in the back of the carriage. ‘One of them’s bleeding, I got him in the arm.’
‘He’ll live, miss.’
‘It is Mr Ravenhurst’s carpet I am worried about,’ she retorted, earning herself a broad grin and a wave of the hand as he whipped the horses up.
When she got back upstairs Theo was still leaning back against the wall, apparently keeping himself upright by sheer willpower. ‘Lie down this instant!’ Something inside her seemed to clutch at her heart, something primitive and fundamental. Something to do with the fact that here was her…her friend and he was hurt and he was brave and he was very, very male and she wanted…
‘Come here.’ He waited until they were toe to toe, then focused painfully on her. One eye was cut across the brow and almost closed, the other caked in blood. ‘Are you all right, Nell?’
‘Perfectly. It was a glancing blow, he caught me off balance. Now you—’ he was not going to be sensible, so she had to be. Think, Elinor. Bandages, a doctor, should I give him brandy? No, that is bad for head injuries…
‘Oh God, Elinor. They could have ra—killed you.’ Thank God. He had her in his arms and was kissing her with a sort of desperation before she could get any of her sensible words out. The desperation of his kiss echoed the way she felt, the wave of emotion that had run through her when she had seen him on the floor, battered, in pain and yet defiant. It was shocking that they should be clasped in each other’s arms like this, but nothing else could express what she felt.
Hazily Elinor was aware that they were holding each other up, and then they were not and she was tumbling on to the bed to end up sprawled on Theo’s chest.
‘Theo!’ Then she found his mouth and was kissing him back. It was clumsy, instinctive and the smell of blood and sweat was making her dizzy, but the heat of his mouth under hers and the thud of his heart against her breast told her that they were both alive, both so thankful to be alive. Mine, that echo in her mind said. Mine…
Chapter Eight
Theo’s head fell back on to the pillows and Elinor stared down at him, realising how battered he was, realising she should be tending his wounds, not behaving in an utterly wanton manner with a man who was barely conscious. Just because she felt like this about him did not mean he wanted her throwing herself at his injured, battered body.
‘God, Nell, where the hell did you get that pistol? I thought you were bluffing when I heard you.’
‘Mama and I carry one each. Mama says one can never rely on having a man to hand when one needs one, so we must be self-reliant.’ Mama had obviously never met this man in a crisis!
‘I can hear her saying it.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Have you ever fired it?’
‘No.’ Elinor swallowed. ‘But I would have done if they hadn’t stopped hitting you.’ She slid off his body and got, somehow, to her feet. ‘Now, you stay there—’ he gave an amused snort, apparently at the thought of doing anything else ‘—while I find some water and bandages.’
Where was Madame Dubois? Elinor called out her name as she opened the door at the back of the shop and found herself in a kitchen. There was no response. She filled a basin with cold water and carried it back. Over one end of the work table was a clean sheet, apparently used for covering sewing in progress. Elinor put it over her shoulder, hooked her finger through the handle of the cutting shears and went back upstairs.
Theo was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had pulled the shirt off over his head and was dabbing with the stained cloth at the cut over his eye. His torso was streaked with blood and covered in reddening marks that were obviously about to become bruises.
‘Are you hurt below the waist anywhere?’ she asked briskly to cover the fact that she wanted to put down the basin and weep. She never cried. Never. ‘He didn’t kick you in the kidneys or anything?’ Could she touch him? Dare she? She wanted to, so much. But that was self-indulgence. It would do him no good, it would satisfy only that jumbled mass of emotions she did not properly understand. He was her friend and he was hurt. That was enough.
‘No, I was rescued by a dragon before he got to those.’ Theo looked up and dropped the shirt. ‘Thank you, Nell. That was so brave.’
Now she was going to cry. Elinor bit her lip until she recovered her composure. ‘I could hardly leave you, could I?’ she demanded. ‘And why are you calling me Nell?’ She knelt down and began to cut up the sheet. ‘Let me see your eyes.’
Somehow he kept from flinching as she washed and dabbed. ‘Nell suits you. Elinor wears dust-coloured gowns and bundles her hair into a net and has her nose stuck in a book all day. Nell lets her hair out and walks by the river and has fun.’
He had only started calling her Nell after he had kissed her. She did not point that out; she didn’t know what it meant. She made him bend his head so she could search through the thick red hair for any cuts on his scalp, running her fingertips carefully through the springing mass, trying not to think about how sensual it felt. There were some vicious lumps, but the skin was not broken.
Obedient to the pressure of her hands, he bent further and she found herself staring down at the nape of his neck, the tendons supporting the skull, the recent scar that must be the result of the last attack when he had lost the Chalice. Her fingers hovered over it, a fraction of an inch from the skin, then she snatched them back, her breathing quickening.
Theo reached for a piece of cloth, wet it and began to clean the blood off his chest. ‘Less dramatic than it looks,’ he said lightly. ‘Most of that blood’s from the cut over my eye. I’ll be fine in a minute.’
‘Yes, of course you will,’ she agreed to keep him quiet, dipping another piece and beginning to work on his back. She had heard those muffled blows that must have landed solidly in his stomach. ‘There, no cuts on your back.’
Theo straightened cautiously and she put one hand on the bands of muscle just above the waistband of his breeches and pressed. He drew a sharp breath as though she had stuck in a knife.
‘I thought so. Fine, indeed! Lie down.’
‘I am fine.’ She shifted her hand to his chest and pushed. He resisted and she saw his lips tighten as the abused muscles were forced to work to counter her lesser strength.
‘Liar.’ He met her eyes and shook his head. ‘Theo, if you do not lie down and rest, I am going to fetch Mama. I mean it—I cannot think of any other threat you might pay attention to.’
It worked; he lay down and smiled at her, turning her insides to jelly. ‘That’s the trouble with an intelligent woman—you know how to terrify a man.’ There was a moment’s silence while they looked at each other. Was he going to say anything about that kiss just now?
No, of course not. She was an intelligent woman, a dragon who just happened to have become over-emotional for a moment. Theo would dismiss those crowded moments, when he had kissed her with fervour and she had returned the embrace with just as much passion, as due to shock, relief, thankfulness they were both safe. She acknowledged the truth of all of those emotions. But there had been something more, something she sensed but did not understand.
‘Take your breeches off and get into bed.’
‘Not with you in the room! And don’t try to threaten me with Aunt Louisa again�
��I’m even less likely to undress in front of her. You go and ask Madame for some coffee. Where is she?’
‘I don’t know. She sent me a note to say she was ready for my fitting, that’s why I’m here. You don’t think they hurt her?’
Theo tried to sit up and she pushed him down again ruthlessly. ‘I’ll go and look—and you get into bed.’
It took ten minutes, but eventually Elinor found the dressmaker in the woodshed, tied and gagged, furious but unharmed. She freed her and helped her back to the kitchen, explaining that Theo had been attacked by two men who thought he was carrying a considerable sum of money.
‘Cochons!’ Madame spat out. ‘Monsieur is unhurt?’
‘No. He is somewhat battered, I am afraid; fortunately, his man arrived and is taking the miscreants to the authorities.’ Elinor skated as lightly as she could past her own part in all this. ‘May I make us some coffee?’
‘I will make it. You go and make sure he is all right and I will bring it up. Then we fit your gowns.’
‘But, madame, after the experience you have had—’
‘You think I allow these creatures to interfere with my business? Huh!’
Sunday morning found Elinor filing papers and her mother collating notes. Elinor suspected that the absence of a Protestant church for miles was no hardship for her mother, whose views on religion were somewhat relaxed. She enjoyed listening to a good sermon, largely to engage afterwards in vigorous debate with the clergyman, but otherwise seemed inclined to call upon the support of Greek gods in an emergency. Elinor had become used to quietly reading her prayer book to herself if no Anglican congregation was within reach and then treating Sunday as if it were any other day.
But they rarely had callers on a Sunday. Even fewer who caused Jeanie to scream and drop the tray of dishes she’d been balancing on one hand as she opened the door.
After Friday’s drama, Elinor was prepared for anything. She had the paperknife in her hand as she ran out into the hallway to find Jeanie scrabbling amidst the potsherds and Theo, his face sporting dramatically black, blue and purple bruising, attempting to reassure her.
‘Cousin Theo, good morning.’ Somehow she got her breathing under control. It was doubtful the girl heard anything other than irritation in her tone. ‘Jeanie, fetch a brush and a bucket and clear this up and stop crying, then bring coffee to the front parlour. Mama is in the back room, I am sure she would like a cup, too.’
She led the way, smiling brightly until Theo closed the door. ‘What in Heaven’s name are you doing?’ she scolded. It was easier to rant at him like a fishwife than to do what she wanted, which was to kiss those bruises better—or turn and flee. She was not sure which. ‘You should be in bed. I told Mama you had fallen down some stairs; she assumes you must have been drunk at the time. I did not disabuse her of that opinion.’
‘You didn’t come to look after me,’ he said with an unconvincing attempt to sound pathetic. ‘So I had to get up.’
‘Madame has been looking after you very well, I make no doubt. It would have been highly improper of me to visit you in your bedchamber.’
Theo attempted to raise one brow quizzically, winced and grimaced. He did not have to say it. What they had been doing last Friday in that very room was beyond improper. No wonder he seemed so uncomfortable. How could he look on her as his friend if this kept happening? ‘Why are you brandishing that knife?’
Elinor realised she was gesticulating with the paperknife and put it down. ‘Jeanie screamed. For all I knew it could have been more of Lord X’s henchmen. I do wish you would tell me who he is.’
‘So when you get back to England you can go and tell him off? I think not.’
As that was exactly what she had been brooding darkly about doing before he arrived, there was really no answer to that. She studied the man in front of her critically. Leaving aside his face, which completely justified Jeanie’s screams, he was moving more easily than she could have believed possible. Her hands tingled with the desire to run them over his chest again. It had felt so good. So hard and smooth and deeply disturbing. Did that make her wanton? Or merely a very inexperienced virgin in intimate contact with an attractive man for the first time? The latter no doubt, as it was certainly the least interesting option.
‘He deserves horsewhipping,’ she said, ‘but I will leave that to you. Theo—how are you?’ She felt her voice wobble and controlled it. ‘Truthfully?’
‘Truthfully?’ Neither of them had taken a seat. Now he walked forwards until he was standing in front of her, took her right hand and laid it against his midriff. Elinor caught her breath and made herself stay passive as one fingertip slid between the buttons and touched flesh. Reprehensibly she left it there. ‘Sore. You want me to be even more frank? I was humiliated that I had to be rescued by a woman—’
‘He had a shotgun! What could you possibly have done against that?’
‘Let me finish,’ he said mildly. ‘My first reaction, when I got over being thankful we were both alive and more or less in one piece, was to feel humiliated. My next was to be angry with myself for that thought—I would not have been shamed to have been rescued by Hythe, just profoundly grateful. That was what I was hanging on to, the hope he would be back soon from the blacksmith’s.
‘Hythe would have barrelled into that room, yelling his head off, fists flying. Someone would probably have got killed. You used courage and cunning and we’re all alive. I‘m just very thankful that you are on my side. You are on my side, aren’t you, Nell?’ he added, his voice dropping into an intimate, husky whisper.
Elinor looked down. He had taken her hand in his, her fingers feeling very small within the strong grip. She swallowed. What did he mean? What did he want? What did she want, come to that? She had been perfectly content until Theo had come into her life and now everything was a jumble: her mind, her emotions, her body.
‘Of course I am. I am your friend. We Ravenhursts stick together, don’t we?’ The safe answer. Pretend there is no ambiguity, pretend I understand what is happening here.
‘Your sense of family duty is strong.’ He lifted his hand, apparently studying the tips of her rather inky fingers.
‘Not particularly,’ she admitted. ‘Only for the relatives I like.’ The silence seemed to stretch on. ‘Why are you here, Theo?’
‘Because this morning, when my head finally stopped aching, it occurred to me that if Lord X has sent any more—minions, was it?’
‘Henchmen,’ Elinor supplied.
‘What do you read? Sensation novels? I’m shocked. Henchmen, then. You are staying here quite openly using our own name and I should be taking better care of you.’
‘I don’t think he would have. Sent any more, I mean.’ She freed her hand and went to perch on the edge of the big chestnut wood table. His close proximity was too confusing. ‘Two would seem adequate and they’d have to find you and report back. If I were he, I would not be concerned about not hearing from them. Not yet.’ Theo nodded and leaned against the window frame, his eyes on the street outside.
‘You don’t think—?’ she began, then broke off, shaking her head. ‘I did wonder if he had had it stolen himself, but there would be no advantage, would there? He might have had the count murdered to get back the money, but you were bringing him the Chalice.’
‘You are talking about a highly respected member of the peerage.’ Theo sounded amused by her speculation.
‘The man’s a pornographer.’
‘A collector of erotic art,’ Theo corrected her. ‘When it costs that much money, it is art, believe me.’
‘Anyway, by tomorrow we’ll all be safely inside the chateau.’
‘Oh, yes, all the suspects in a murder case tucked up within nice thick walls with the portcullis down. Your idea of safe, Nell, is unique.’
The door opened on Jeanie with the tray, Lady James at her heels. ‘Theophilus, I am appalled. What your poor mother would say if she could see you now I shudder to think. Let that be a
lesson to you to foreswear strong drink.’
‘Good morning.’ Theo took the onslaught with admirable calm. ‘Thank you for your concern, Aunt Louisa. I am not in any great pain now.’
‘Huh! You should be suffering from a hangover, if nothing else. Why are you here, other than to alarm Jeanie and cause her to break the china?’
‘To offer you my escort to morning service, naturally, Aunt.’
‘I do not chose to attend the Roman rite, I thank you, Theophilus. However, it shows more sensitive feeling in you to have offered than I would have expected.’
‘I also brought a copy of a plan of the chateau, which I thought might be of interest to study before we arrive.’ He removed a package from his satchel and handed it to Elinor. ‘How accurate it is I do not know, it appears to date from the middle of the last century. I found it in a bookseller’s in Avallon.’
‘I will make a copy.’ Elinor spread it open on the table. ‘I am sure Mama would like to have one to make notes on.’ If they had several copies she and Theo could mark each chamber and passage as they searched it—once she had persuaded him to let her help, that was. It showed the chateau from cellars to roof, floor by floor, each part numbered in a crabbed hand. Down the edge, in the same hand, ran the key.
Theo came to stand close beside her while she ran her forefinger down the list, squinting to try to decipher the writing. ‘Looking for a chamber marked orgies?’ he murmured.
‘There might be some clue,’ she whispered back, refusing to rise to his satirical tone. ‘The group must have called themselves something, and this is an old plan. With a key apparently written by a drunken spider,’ she added, depressed.
‘I will leave it with you,’ Theo said. ‘Until tomorrow, Aunt.’
One did not have first cousins who included a duke and an earl, an uncle who was a bishop and numerous titled relations by marriage, without having stayed in many fine and historic mansions. But this was the first time Elinor had ever found herself in a castle complete with battlements and turrets, and, according to the plan, dungeons as well.
