“But I’m interested in yours. Who is this client who wants so much to learn Dominic’s whereabouts?”
Carey nervously licked his lips. “I told you the day we met in the parlor that I don’t know.”
“Charles Durbin?”
Carey started to shake his head and then stopped. Lord, he’d be spitting himself on that damn little dagger in another minute. “I wasn’t told. My orders were to find out Delaney’s location and report to our man in New Orleans.”
Silver felt a swift, sinking disappointment. The man truly didn’t know. Carey’s voice was shaking with fear and his muscles were taut with terror. She had hoped he had been lying to her when she had first asked him who was pursuing Dominic, but a man seldom lied with a blade biting into his throat. She reluctantly lowered the knife, her arm dropping from around his neck. She stepped back. “Then send word to your man in New Orleans that Dominic doesn’t want to be found.” She drew her dark blue cloak more closely around her. “And tell him that questioning his kin can be very dangerous. Don’t follow me again, Mr. Carey. It annoys me.”
There was no sound of a footfall, nor even a whisper of movement in the grass, and it was not until he heard the soft clang of the garden gate that Carey realized the girl was no longer behind him. He whirled around, too late to catch anything but a brief glimpse of Silver Delaney before she was gone, hurrying down the sidewalk toward the hired carriage waiting in the next block.
A few moments later Silver settled back against the leather cushions of the carriage and closed her eyes, attempting to relax her taut nerves. It was unusual for her to be this nervous, and she must not let emotion sap her strength. Fear wouldn’t help Dominic. Those men still didn’t know where Dominic and Elspeth had gone and, with luck, would not find out. She only wished she could contact Dominic and tell him he was in danger once again. It was frustration that was causing her distress and exasperation to grow more desperate with every passing day. Dom had promised to contact her when they had found a villa to Elspeth’s liking, but that might be months. Blast it, she should have gone with them.
Then her lips curved in a wry smile. She had not been invited to go along, and she probably wouldn’t have gone if the invitation had been issued. Even after four years of marriage Dominic and Elspeth had no need for anyone else. Silver had realized early on that it was sometimes lonelier to see the love that bonded them together and shut her out than to stay at the academy, where the rejection was deliberate. She could armor herself against the cruelty of strangers, she could fight contempt and stupidity, but it was virtually impossible to stem the poignant, wistful feelings evoked by watching Elspeth and Dominic together. How would it feel to be loved as Elspeth was loved?
She was being foolish. She deliberately straightened on the seat and squared her shoulders. There was no reason to grow weak and tearful over something no one could change. She had been lonely all her life and could not expect anything else in the future. Perhaps some people were meant to be lonely. She had to accept the loneliness and go on with her life. There were many rewards she could wrest from the world once she had left this blasted school.
She smothered a chuckle as she imagined Mrs. Alford’s expression of profound relief when Silver finally walked out her front door. She had made sure that the last two years had been as difficult for those around her as they were difficult for her. Well, it had been their own fault, she thought defiantly. No one could expect her to meekly let Mrs. Alford and her mawkish pupils treat her with contempt. If she couldn’t have friendship, she would have respect.
She glanced out the window of the carriage. She could see the bright lights in the distance and the cheerful, alluring music of the calliope drifted faintly to her ears. She was almost there. She felt the anticipation begin to rise within her. The circus. Here she had acceptance. Circus people were also outcasts, yet proud, even splendid, in their isolation. They had brought her into their world without thought or hesitation. Soon, for a little while, she could forget loneliness and pretend she belonged to the brilliant, shoddy world of Monteith’s Circus.
“You’re late.” Sebastien threw open the door of the carriage, his voice hoarse with strain. “Hurry!”
Fear clutched painfully at Silver’s throat. “Etaine?”
Sebastien nodded jerkily. “She had an attack this afternoon.” He tossed a coin to the coachman and easily lifted Silver out of the vehicle. “We did everything you told us, but she’s not much better.” His handsome face was anguished. “That son of a bitch made her go into the cage tonight. She could scarcely breathe and he still made her perform with the cats.”
Anger flared white-hot within Silver. Damn Monteith. She’d like to cut his heart out. “She’s in her tent?”
Sebastien nodded and hurried ahead, elbowing a path through the crowd for her.
“How is she, Sebastien?” a ticket taker called as they passed the entrance of the big tent.
“Not good,” Sebastien said curtly, scarcely looking at the man. He hurried Silver past the big tent, the animal cages, and on to a small tent at the back of the field. “Khadil is with her now, but she’ll have to leave before Monteith discovers her absence from the sideshow.” He lifted the flap of the tent and waves of moist heat struck them in the face. Then they were in the tent, stepping around the small banked fire on which a kettle of bubbling hot water was sending mists of steam into the air, to hurry toward the woolen pallet on the far side of the tent where Khadil was kneeling.
The albino turned to look at them, her strange eyes wide with anxiety. “She’s scared, Silver,” she whispered. “I’ve been holding her hand like you said, but she’s so scared.”
“It’s all right, Khadil.” Silver shrugged off her cloak and threw it on the brassbound trunk beside the pallet. “You’ve done very well. All you could do.”
She looked down at the tiny figure on the pallet, a sharp pang of sympathy wrenching through her. Etaine’s eyes were closed and her mouth was wide open as she struggled desperately for breath. The child was still wearing her pink tutu and tights, her fair skin shining with a mist of perspiration that had darkened her white-gold curls to pale brown. She had lost weight in the last few weeks and appeared even younger than ten years of age.
Etaine’s lids fluttered open and she saw Silver. Hope flared in the blue depths of her eyes. She smiled shakily. “I’ve … been … trying.” Each word was torn from her as she struggled painfully for air. “It doesn’t—”
“Shh.” Silver dropped swiftly to her knees beside Khadil. “Save your breath. I know you’ve been trying. You just needed someone to help you try a little harder.” She glanced over her shoulder at Sebastien. “I’ll need someone to keep that kettle steaming.”
He nodded. “Many of us will take turns coming in to tend it.”
Silver turned back to Etaine and smiled. “Why don’t we undress you and wrap you in a blanket the way we did the last time? That will make you feel much freer.” She quickly began to take off the child’s spangled pink finery. She experienced another ripple of rage as she had a sudden mental picture of how Etaine must have looked facing the lions tonight. Monteith always deliberately tried to accentuate his daughter’s youth and childish vulnerability when she performed. He must have been very pleased tonight, Silver thought savagely. Etaine’s illness gave her an air of fragility, almost a transparency that was unbearably touching. “Sebastien!”
Sebastien paused at the entrance of the tent.
“Keep Monteith away from here tonight.”
He hesitated and for an instant she saw the fear that was always present at any mention of defiance of Monteith. Then Sebastien nodded with determination. “We’ll find a way.”
Khadil helped Silver undress and wrap Etaine in the blanket and then sat back on her heels. “I have to leave now. Monteith always checks the sideshow and my friends won’t be able to fool him for much longer.”
“That’s fine, I won’t need you any more tonight,” Silver said. “Etaine
is going to be fine.”
Khadil frowned, her eyes with their pink irises and red pupils fixed worriedly on Etaine. “I’ll try to come back later if you—”
“No.” Silver tried to smother the exasperation she was feeling. They all meant well, but their love for Etaine was so deep that these attacks frightened them as much as they did the child, and fear fed upon fear. “Leave us alone.”
Khadil nodded uncertainly, her wild mane of pure white hair shining in the firelight. “Good night, Etaine.”
Etaine’s thin face was suddenly lit by a loving smile as she gazed at the albino. “It’s … all right, Khadil. Don’t be … afraid.”
“Hush.” Silver motioned for Khadil to leave and settled down beside Etaine, gathering the child into her arms. She began to stroke the silky crop of fair curls slowly and rhythmically. They were silent for a long time, and Silver gradually felt the tension that locked Etaine’s muscles begin to ease and her breathing grow more steady.
“It’s getting better,” Etaine said, nestling closer. “I was afraid I …”
“It’s bad for you to be afraid. It makes the breathing much worse. Now relax and think of pleasant things.”
“Heaven?” Etaine tried to laugh. “I was wondering … before you came … about heaven. I thought this time …”
“Not heaven,” Silver said firmly. “You’re not going to see heaven for a long, long time. You’ve had these attacks before, and this is just another one. Maybe a little worse.”
Etaine nodded. “Worse. Why?”
Silver was silent a moment. “I don’t know, Etaine. I don’t know why you have to suffer. Perhaps it won’t always be this way. I have heard that some children grow out of lung afflictions.” If they lived long enough. The thought brought panic in its wake, and she quickly blocked the emotion. She mustn’t be afraid or Etaine would sense it and grow tense again. She could often talk the child through attacks like these if she could get her to relax. “A dry climate seems to help. Doctors send many people to heal in the land where I was born. Living here beside the river can’t be good for you.”
“We’ll move on … soon. My father says the pickings are getting poor here.”
Silver experienced a swift thrust of pain. She had known the circus would not remain here forever, but the news still came as a shock. She would miss them all so much. Sebastien, Khadil, Bruno the Strong Man, Etaine. No, not Etaine. She had plans for Etaine.
“Tell me about Killara, Silver.” Etaine’s lids had closed again and her breathing was becoming less harsh with every passing moment. “Tell me about your cousins … Patrick and Brianne and about … Rising Star. Am I really like Rising Star?”
“Yes.” Silver gently stroked the blue-veined delicacy of Etaine’s temples. “Not in appearance. My aunt was Apache, like me, but you remind me of her.” Strength and fragility, gentleness and a joyous love of life that touched everyone around her. “I miss her very much. She loved me.”
“Of course,” Etaine said simply. “Everyone loves you, Silver.”
Silver burst out laughing. “You’re mistaken, Etaine. I’m not at all lovable.”
Etaine’s lids opened. “Then why do I love you?”
Silver gave the child a quick hug. “Because you love everyone. Someday you’ll wake up and see me as I am.”
“I don’t love … everyone. Sometimes I feel very wicked.”
Silver knew to whom the child was referring. How the hell could even a daughter love a monster like Paul Monteith? “You’re not wicked. Some people aren’t worth loving.” She smiled down at her. “Do you think you can go to sleep now?”
“Pretty soon.” Etaine’s breathing was almost normal now, and her words were slightly slurred. “You won’t leave right away? I always feel safe with you. I was so frightened before when I couldn’t breathe.”
Silver swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. “I know, Etaine. I don’t have to leave for a long, long time. Now, close your eyes.”
In a few moments the child was asleep and Silver let out a deep sigh of relief. The attack was over. Tomorrow Etaine would be weak and exhausted, but in a few days she would be well again.
Until the next attack.
Silver knew a chill of terror that was quickly superseded by determination. Etaine mustn’t be here when the next attack occurred. She must be at Killara, where she could be cared for. There had to be some way to get Monteith to relinquish custody of Etaine. He had no affection for her. Hell, he had no affection for anyone. She shivered as she remembered the last confrontation she’d had with the man. There was something terribly evil about Monteith, something not at all as it should be.… She would wire Patrick and ask him for help. Monteith appeared to be a greedy enough bastard; perhaps if Patrick offered him a great deal of money …
She sighed wearily and tried to relax. Yes, perhaps Patrick could help. Etaine would be happy at Killara, as Silver had never been. She was a golden child and she would be accepted by the family as one of them. Her cousin, Patrick, had done everything he could to make his grandfather and grandmother treat Silver as a true Delaney, but he could not make them give her affection.
She had already resolved not to return to Killara, but the ties that bound her to the ranch were too strong to sever entirely. There were too many years, too many memories, too many dreams invested in Killara to walk away from it and not look back. Maybe she could settle somewhere close by and see Etaine now and then, it would be sweet to watch her grow strong and healthy and free of fear.
She was growing drowsy but she mustn’t sleep. The carriage would return for her in a few hours to take her back to the academy, and she had promised Patrick the last time she had been expelled that she would try to avoid another scene with Mrs. Alford. It was all very stupid. There were so many foolish rules. How could any woman live smothered under so many rules and with as many simpered platitudes ringing in her ears? Still, she had promised. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she thought about having to sneak out each night. Oh, well, three months more and it would be over. She would be free.
She looked down at the child’s sleeping face and a wave of tenderness swept over her. Now she must find a way of freeing Etaine.
“Please, do be seated.” Elisabeth Alford cast a flustered glance at Mikhail Kuzdief towering behind Nicholas Savron and moistened her lips with her tongue. “Perhaps your servant could wait outside, your highness? My young ladies are shy and easily frightened by the masculine gender and he is very … large, isn’t he?”
Nicholas seated himself on the horsehair couch Mrs. Alford had indicated. “Mikhail isn’t my servant, he’s my aide. He’s Cossack and a Cossack is servant to no man.” He smiled easily. “And we have no intention of encountering any of your young ladies except Miss Delaney. I’m sure neither my aide nor myself could be considered a threat to the virtue of your charges.”
The headmistress had distinct doubts on that score. Nicholas Savron possessed a beguiling masculine beauty that posed a danger far in excess of the attractions of an ordinary young man—and he was a prince to boot. Any young girl was bound to be dazzled by such a potent combination. From the supple leather of his black boots to his black frock coat and discreetly striped gray silk cravat, he was a picture of worldly elegance. How had that savage been lucky enough to manage to make the acquaintance of such a man? “Well, perhaps it would do no harm for him to stay.” Her fingers fluttered up to fondle the cameo brooch at her throat. “I’ve sent for Silver. I believe she’s in the garden this afternoon. The sweet girl is such a lover of nature. You say you have a message for her? Perhaps you’re acquainted with her guardian, Patrick Delaney?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I have a connection with her uncle Dominic.”
“A family connection?”
“Not exactly.” The prince leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I have a message for her concerning her uncle. A very personal message. Naturally, you’ll be understanding enough to give us the privacy needed for such
a delicate matter.”
Mrs. Alford frowned. “Leave you alone with Silver? That’s not possible. It would be frightfully improper.”
“But you’re obviously a lady of great discernment.” Nicholas’s words flowed over her with honey-sweet persuasion. “And a woman of such intelligence is allowed to take risks when a lesser woman must cling diligently to the rules.” He smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “I promise I’ll be alone with her for only five minutes. What possible harm could come to her in that short time?”
There was a sound from Mikhail that was suspiciously like a snort of derision.
“Five minutes?” The headmistress wavered. Those eyes were mesmerizing and that wicked smile capable of melting stone. She really shouldn’t permit him to—She abruptly stood up as she made up her mind. Why not? That young demon could certainly protect herself and she, Elisabeth Alford, was not about to offend a prince. “Very well.” She moved toward the door. “But not a minute more. Ah, here is Silver. Silver, this is his highness, Prince Nicholas Savron, and his aide, Mikhail Kuzdief. My dear, his highness has a message for you.” She strutted from the room, her bustle swaying on her ample posterior.
“What sort of message?” Silver Delaney asked warily, moving a few paces into the parlor.
Nicholas felt a tingle of emotion that was curiously like shock. The girl before him was a dark flame burning in the fussy drabness of the parlor. Ebony hair, straight and silky, was left unbound to fall to the middle of her back. Golden skin glowed with a satin luminence that was irresistibly tempting to touch, and her eyes … wide-set, framed by long, curving black lashes, those clear silver eyes should have been cool but they were not. They were flashing, alive, and as passionate as those beautifully shaped lips.
Passion. Sensuality. She radiated those qualities like a shimmering beacon that would draw men to her as surely as his own body was responding right now. She was clothed in a dark blue school uniform consisting of a long-sleeved waist-length Zouave jacket, full shapeless skirt, and prim, high-necked white shirtwaist blouse obviously meant to convince all men that there was nothing worthy of their interest beneath. On Silver Delaney the attempt at subterfuge was completely useless. She held her slim body arrow-straight, her full breasts pressing against the prim shirtwaist and jacket as if boldly flaunting their presence. Yet there was an air of indifference to her appearance that was as intriguing as the sensuality she radiated with every breath.
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