Silver Angel

by Johanna Lindsey

  "A drop in the bucket, Marsh. He's not exactly an impoverished ruler, you know."

  "That's not even the half of it, Derek. There were also twenty female slaves—" At Derek's burst of laughter, Marshall frowned. "Would you mind telling me what you find so amusing? It was a bloody embarrassment. ''

  "I don't doubt it. So he found an excuse to weed out his harem after all."

  "His harem? They claimed to be from his household—but his harem? No wonder each of them possessed a personal fortune even a duke would envy. But doesn't he realize—"

  "Of course he does. He knew full well they would be set free."

  "Then why didn't he just free them himself?"

  "Come on, Marsh, you know that isn't the way things are done over there. Slaves are given away quite frequently and for any number of reasons, but rarely are they granted freedom without recompense. They're just too valuable a commodity."

  "But in effect he freed them."

  "Yes, but in the guise of gratitude. There is a difference." And then Derek grinned. "Besides, he probably thought I would appreciate the gesture." Since I failed to do the weeding for him.

  "Which brings us back to your modesty. You must have done something more than simply point him in the right direction."

  "Not at all. They were getting nowhere by suspecting Selim. I might have turned suspicion elsewhere, but it was one of the Dey's own concubines who discovered the true instigator of the plot."

  "So you claim. Chantelle Burke, by any chance?"

  "I don't recall giving any names in my report."

  "As uncooperative as ever." Marshall sighed. "You're just not going to tell me the whole of it, are you?"

  "There's nothing else to tell. England is happy. Barikah is happy. What more could you want?"

  "A little honesty between friends," Marshall grumbled.

  Derek stared at him for a long, thoughtful moment; then he finally said, "He's my brother."

  "Good God! That explains ... no wonder ..." Marshall cleared his throat, his expression almost comical in his embarrassment. "Sorry, old man, for being so bloody persistent. As you say, there's nothing else to tell, is there? Shall we rejoin Caroline and your grandfather?"

  Derek suppressed a grin. "By all means."

  But his own discomfort returned on finding Caroline alone in the drawing room, the Marquis obviously having deserted her, too. She was finishing a piece on the piano, a melancholy tune that didn't suit her at all. It suited him, however, when he thought of how disturbed Chantelle had been during dinner and how stubbornly she had tried to hide it.

  Of course he knew why, but there was very little he could do about it. He had her tucked in under his roof where he wanted her, and would do everything possible to keep her there. But Caroline thought of this as her second home, and she would be popping around more and more often as the wedding day approached. Meetings between the two would be unavoidable.

  The music had ended and Marshall's voice broke into his thoughts with a surprising "Rather off key, weren't you, Lady Caroline?"

  She stood up, smiling tightly. "I didn't realize you were tone-deaf, Lord Fielding."

  "And I didn't realize you were so unaccomplished at the piano."

  Caroline's gasp was heard clear across the room. "How dare you!"

  Marshall shrugged carelessly. "Just pointing out what everyone else is too polite to mention. You would have saved your music teacher a good deal of frustration, I imagine, if you had just told your father that you had no interest in learning the piano. But that wouldn't do, would it? You've never made a decision on your own in your whole life."

  Derek couldn't believe what he was hearing, and it didn't stop there. Caroline got angrier, and Marshall became even more insulting, and they both seemed oblivious that he was in the room, the sparks flying between them hot enough to singe the carpet. It occurred to him that he and Chantelle behaved in much the same way when they couldn't come to terms with their feelings, and suddenly he burst out laughing.

  He received two furious scowls that choked off his humor, and he managed a very conversational response. "Would this antagonism end if I left you two alone?"

  Caroline was the one to answer, her voice still sharp. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Actually, I believe you do. Perhaps I should have asked instead if a broken engagement might improve the situation."

  She blushed, but it was Marshall who replied. "You can't expect her to answer that. The woman doesn't know her own mind."

  "I do so!" Caroline snapped.

  Derek crossed the room to put an arm around her shoulders. It was all he could do to keep from grinning.

  "Perhaps you were a bit hasty in accepting my proposal, Caro."

  In a ridiculous emotional about-face, she glanced up at him meekly. "Do you think so, Derek?"

  He nodded. "I'm a cad and a scoundrel, but I'm going to ask you to beg off."

  "Are you sure that's what you want?"

  "Don't argue with him, Caroline!" Marshall said impatiently.

  She threw him another scowl before she smiled at Derek. "Very well."

  He finally let the grin loose and leaned down to whisper, "Don't let him get away, love. I think this is the one you've been waiting for."

  "But how did you know?" she whispered back.

  "Intuition—and the same problem."

  "Chantelle?"

  "You guessed it."

  "I like her, but I don't think she likes me."

  "She will, love, once she hears you're going to marry someone else and not me. And if you don't mind, I'd like to tell her now."

  "Of course. And, Derek, thank you."

  "Not at all." Then he turned to Marshall. "You should have said something, old man."

  "I—ah—I thought I did," Marshall replied in embarrassment now.

  "Not seriously enough. And don't just stand there like a clod, or you're liable to lose her again. Talk about indecision."

  "I couldn't have said it better myself," Caroline agreed with a grin.

  Chapter Fifty

  Chantelle was just about to extinguish the last lamp in her room when the door burst open. "She's in love with Marshall!"

  Chantelle jumped, startled, even though she recognized that voice before she saw him. The very reason she was going to bed so early, just so she wouldn't have to think of him anymore. And more annoying, he was all smiles as he stood there waiting for her to say something.

  Despite herself, she asked, "Who is?"

  "Caroline."

  She stiffened. "Well, good for her."

  He ignored her peevish tone and closed the space between them to draw her into his arms. "You don't understand, love. We can get married now."

  "That's what you think."

  "Chantelle, I'm serious."

  "So am I," she retorted and pushed away from him, furious that he should ask her now. "I've heard the story, Derek. Your grandfather wants you married and you don't care who as long as you please him. Well, no, thank you. I don't care to be second choice now that your first one has deserted you."

  He had expected her to be as delighted as he was. It infuriated him that she wasn't. "Dammit, you have never been second and you know it! Is it my fault that I was already committed when I met you? Caro is one of my best friends and always has been. How

  could I break off with her if I thought she would be hurt by it?"

  "It was all right to hurt me, though, wasn't it? It was all right to rip out my heart and trample all over it with your miserable suggestion that I be your mistress!"

  "Do you think I would have loved you any less in that position?" he shouted back.

  "What?" she asked, stunned.

  "You heard me! How else was I to keep from losing you?"

  Her eyes blazed when she realized she had obviously misunderstood him. That was all he was worried about, that he wouldn't have the use of her body anymore. How could she have thought otherwise, even for a moment?

  "Why am I even ar
guing with you? I've given you my answer. Now will you kindly get out of my room?"

  He started to do just that, he was so angry with her. He got as far as the door and stopped. He had left the damn thing open. He closed it now and turned back toward her. If feelings counted for nothing, maybe logic would succeed.

  "You need a husband, Chantelle."

  "The devil I do."

  "Have you forgotten your guardian?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

  "The only way you can get out from under his rule is to marry." That wasn't exactly true. He had already talked to his solicitor about the options she had available to her, but he wasn't about to tell her that now. "Or did you intend to hide from him until you came of age?"

  "Why not? It was what I had planned to do before I got influenced by a vacation in Barikah."

  He hated it when she got sarcastic. "Don't you want the pleasure of kicking him out of your house?"

  "Not enough to put up with you for the rest of my life."

  Derek gritted his teeth. "Why the bloody hell are you being so stubborn about this? You love me. I love you. There is nothing to prevent our getting married now. That is what people usually do when they—"

  "All right."

  "What?"

  "All right, you have convinced me."

  It took him a moment to realize she was smiling at him. He approached her again, slowly this time.

  "Was it that bit about having to stay out of circulation?"

  "No."

  "Was it the part about kicking your cousins out?"

  "That was a nice thought, but no."

  She was grinning now. When he made no move to embrace her, she took matters into her own hands, slipping her arms around his neck. He was the one to resist now.

  "Wait a minute—"

  "Shh." She began nibbling at his chin. "Have you forgotten so soon how easily passion can flare between us?"

  "So that's it? All you want is my—"

  "Silly man. All I wanted was your love. All you had to do was tell me."

  He turned the tables on her, grabbing her hips to press them into his own. "I thought I was always quite demonstrative in that area."

  "I didn't mean that!"

  "Didn't you?" he teased. "What about this?" And he captured her lips until her legs gave out from under her.

  "That was always nice," she said breathlessly, "but I wanted the words."

  "Silly woman." He gave her back her own words. "I knew you loved me. Why weren't you as intuitive? If I didn't love you, would I have put up with your willfulness, your temper, your jealousy?"

  "I was never jealous!" she retorted.

  "Of course not." His chuckle was warm and caressing. "Are you sure you want the words, love? You're going to hear them so often you'll be begging for mercy."

  "That's what you think. We know who always ends up begging for mercy, don't we?" But then she sighed, holding him close, so happy she could barely stand it. "Oh, Derek, I love you so much. How soon can we be married?"

  He grinned at her impatience. "Not until morning, at least. I have other plans for tonight."

  "Do you, my lord? So do I, now that you mention it." And she brought his lips back to hers.