Velvet Embrace

by Nicole Jordan

  Denise hid her triumphant smile as she settled herself comfortably against the cushions. She had no desire to see Dominic engaged in a duel over another woman, particularly Brie Carringdon, but this last exchange convinced her she had nothing to fear. Even if her wide experience with men had not made her a competent judge, one look at Dominic's brooding features would have told her that he held no love for her beautiful rival. For whatever reason, the Carringdon chit had incurred his wrath, and then Julian had added fuel to the fire by defending her.

  Wisely, Denise was silent for the short trip to her home. She fully intended to capitalize on Dominic's violent mood, but she knew better than to draw his attention while his fury was still at its peak. His strong profile was barely visible in the darkness as he lounged negligently in his seat, staring out the window, but Denise could sense the unleashed tension in his body. He was like a powerful, savage beast, tightly controlled but primed for attack, awaiting the slightest provocation.

  Her pulses leapt when at last Dominic turned to look at her. His eyes were hard and glittering, holding no trace of gentleness. The banked fires of his passions needed a release, she knew, and she hoped he would find it in her body.

  When the carriage drew to a halt before her house, she murmured his name and in her husky voice, invited him to come inside. Dominic merely leaned over to push open the door.

  "You aren't leaving now!" she exclaimed in bewilderment.

  His gray eyes raked her body. "I'm not feeling particularly amorous at the moment, if you hadn't noticed."

  "Dominic, about what happened this evening—"

  "I don't wish to discuss it, Denise."

  When she realized he was serious, Denise flounced down from the carriage and whirled to face him. "Damn you, Dominic! What do you want from me? You practically command me to attend the ball with you this evening, but when we arrive, you completely ignore me. Then you whisk me away while everyone is staring at us, without so much as a by your leave, and then you have the temerity to drop me on my doorstep like a piece of unwanted baggage!"

  "I've no interest in sharing you with half the men in London, chérie."

  "Well! I never expected you of all men to act the prude. You and your little Miss Carringdon are well matched, I must say!"

  "Leave her out of this," he said savagely.

  Denise's smile was a perfect imitation of Dominic's usual sardonic one. "Did that touch a nerve, milord? She put those scratches on your handsome face, didn't she. Poor darling. It must rankle to know that not every woman leaps at the chance to bed the great Lord Stanton!"

  Dominic's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Denise stood there a moment longer, glaring at him defiantly, but then she bit her lip. "Please forgive me for saying that, darling." Letting tears well in her eyes, she held out her arms to him.

  Dominic looked at her with cool contempt. "Enough of your tricks, Denise. I'm not coming in. If you wish, however, I shall stop the first gentleman I pass and send him to you. It would be a pity to let your lovely charms go untasted."

  Denise uttered a shriek and tore her reticule from her wrist, intending to throw it in his face, but Dominic closed the door and rapped on the ceiling. The coach pulled away, leaving her to vent her fury on the hapless cobblestones.

  Chapter Fourteen

  For the first few hours, the Earl of Stanton's well-sprung travelling coach made good time on the road from London to Dover. The coach's occupants travelled in comparative comfort, although there was little conversation to lighten the tedious miles.

  Jason, finding Dominic uncommunicative, settled back to watch the passing scenery from the coach window. After a time, though, his thoughts strayed from the rolling Kentish landscape to the ugly rumors that had reached his ears before leaving London that morning. According to the reports, Dominic had behaved outrageously at the Copely's ball and had torn Brie Carringdon's reputation to shreds in the process. Jason would have liked to know just how much truth was in those rumors, but Dominic had refused to discuss the matter.

  He didn't appear to be too concerned now, Jason thought with a glance at his friend. Dominic was dozing in the forward seat, his arms folded across his chest, his long legs stretched comfortably before him. Jason shrugged. One could never tell about Dominic. The man had a well-developed talent for keeping his thoughts hidden .His success as a spy had depended on it. It was only because they had known each other for so long that Jason was able to sense the simmering anger behind the enigmatic mask. Something definitely had happened yesterday, Jason knew. But he also knew the subject would remain closed until Dominic chose to open it.

  Jason was about to follow Dominic's example and get some sleep when the horses suddenly slackened their pace. He could hear the coachman's voice raised in altercation, and when he glanced out the window, he could see a lone, caped horseman riding beside the box.

  "I think it would behoove you to wake up, Dom," Jason said as the coach ground to a halt. "I do believe we are being held up.

  Dominic raised one eyelid. "Jacques has dealt with highwaymen before. He can be counted on to handle it."

  "Is that so?" Jason replied, watching as the rider dismounted. "Then why do you not tell that to our uninvited guest? He appears to be coming this way."

  Dominic sat up then, and as a precaution, checked to see that the pistols in the carriage side pockets were primed and loaded. Jason kept an eye out the window, relaxing somewhat when he realized the horseman was but a mere youth. The boy had a slender figure, and although his hat was pulled well down to cover his face, his exposed chin was smooth and beardless. He was hidden from view as he handed his reins to one of the footman, but a moment later the door was flung open. To his astonishment, Jason found himself staring directly into the lovely blue-green eyes of Brie Carringdon.

  She seemed surprised to see him as well, but as she took the seat next to Jason, she recovered her poise. "I beg your pardon, Lord Effing," she said with an aplomb that would have done credit to a diplomat. "I did not expect to see you here." With a faint smile, Brie indicated the pistol in her hand. "You needn't worry. I don't intend to shoot you. Your friend, however, is another matter entirely. Hello, Dominic."

  Jason, knowing Dominic well, expected any number of reactions from him: surprise, scorn, anger, even caution. But neither Jason nor Brie anticipated Dominic's amusement. "Ah, chérie," he said, his gray eyes narrowing with laughter. "You never cease to amaze me. I thought I had gotten rid of you, yet here you are, pointing a gun at my head after holding up my coach in broad daylight. What will you do next, I wonder?"

  Brie shrugged indifferently, keeping a firm rein on her temper. She would never have let Dominic know what it had cost her pride to arrange this meeting. His cruelty last night had hurt her beyond feeling—or so she told herself. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Lord Stanton," she replied, "but I did not hold up your coach. Your coachman recognized me and allowed me to board."

  "I did not think Jacques was so lacking in sense. Tell me, dear girl, what do you intend to do now? Kidnap me?"

  His tone held the familiar mockery, but Brie had braced herself for it. "Not at all," she replied coolly. "And in any case," she gave Jason a brilliant smile, "I doubt Lord Effing would allow such a thing."

  Jason returned her smile with one of his own. "Probably not, Miss Carringdon, but I expect it would depend on your reasons." He leaned back in his seat, beginning to enjoy himself. "Why did you, er, join us in such an unorthodox fashion?"

  "I want to know where you are going."

  "Why?" The question came from Dominic, and Brie tried not to flinch at his savage tone.

  "Yes, why, Miss Carringdon?" Jason asked more gently.

  She turned pleading eyes to Jason, finding it easier to look at him than Dominic. "Lord Effing, I assume you have heard by now of the Durhams? Are you also aware of my relationship with that family? Suzanne Durham was my mother. I . . ." Brie faltered, then took a deep breath. "I have several reasons for wishing to accompany y
ou. First, Lord Stanton believes that my mother was responsible for the arrest of his father. I do not. My mother was simply not the kind of person who could send someone to a certain death. I intend to find out what happened."

  She paused, her gaze involuntarily returning to Dominic. "Lord Stanton also believes," she said with a trace of bitterness, "that I, in conjunction with my grandfather, plotted his death. Until yesterday, I was unaware that my grandfather was even alive. And while I admit there have been times when Lord Stanton and I have had . . . our differences, I have never wished him dead."

  Unable to bear Dominic's chill stare any longer, Brie looked at Jason. "I don't know where my grandfather lives, only that he is somewhere in Burgundy. I have no wish to chase you across several hundred miles of unfamiliar country, however, so if you will only give me Sir Charles' precise location, I will leave you in peace."

  "I suppose," Dominic said with acid sarcasm, "you plan to ride through France, dressed as a highwayman and brandishing a pistol."

  "I don't have much choice!" Brie snapped, turning to glare at him. "A woman can hardly travel alone without a disguise. Besides, I thought it best to leave London. After last night I dare not even show my face."

  Dominic didn't reply. He knew he should explain that he had been innocent of trying to humiliate Brie in front of his friends, but he was still furious for having allowed himself to be so taken in by her lies—and angrier still because he had been unable to suppress the sudden rush of pleasure at seeing her again. She had knocked his equilibrium off balance by stopping his coach. He had known, of course, that she was spirited and stubborn, but never would he have guessed she would try and follow him to France. Just what the hell was she up to?

  Moreover, why was she pretending to know nothing about her grandfather? He knew damned well she was lying. He could recall how she had reacted to him that night at the Lodge when they had first met. Brie had recognized his name, he was sure of it. He had seen the flicker of alarm in her eyes when he had introduced himself. And what about her extreme wariness later, and all those stories she had made up to keep her identity a secret? She had claimed it was merely to protect her reputation, but he could see now she had been afraid he would discover her connection with Durham. Dominic clenched his jaw, remembering Brie's fear of him. All that time he had been concerned for her, thinking she had been frightened by a bad experience with a lover.

  Watching her now, though, Dominic found it easy to see how he had fallen for her lies. Even dressed as she was in her rough boy's clothes, Brie was beautiful. She was glaring at him fiercely, her eyes flashing with indignation, her cheeks flushed with anger. Feeling his groin muscles tighten, Dominic swore under his breath. Fiend seize it, he was becoming a candidate for Bedlam! After all that had happened, he still wanted her. Brie had lied to him, maybe even tried to kill him, yet he was still attracted by her beauty, by her vibrancy. He couldn't deny that she still had the power to stir him. He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms. . . .

  But she had played him for a fool, Dominic reminded himself viciously. And while he found himself wanting to believe she wasn't nearly so treacherous as circumstances indicated, he couldn't allow himself to trust her.

  He glanced at Jason, noting that his friend wore a look of grave concern. Damn the little witch! She already had Jason wrapped around her finger. "Jason, you're a fool if you believe half of what she says," Dominic said in disgust. "She knows well enough where to find Durham."

  When Jason remained silent, Dominic's raking gaze sliced back to Brie. "My dear Miss Carringdon," he said as if their discussion had become a wearying bore, "I'm afraid I find your reasoning a bit difficult to accept—although certainly it is more plausible than your protestations of innocence. Nothing you may do or say, however, will sway me. I strongly recommend that you give up this foolishness and go home, but of course if you choose to visit your grandfather, that is your affair. I warn you, though, I do not relish being hounded. And now," Dominic added implacably, "do you need assistance mounting your horse?"

  For a long moment, Brie stared at him, as if unwilling to accept his answer. Then finally she lowered her gaze and shook her head. She had lost her desperate gamble. Dominic hated her and there was nothing more to be said. When he leaned over to open the door, she gathered up her shredded dignity and climbed down, suddenly feeling very weary.

  She gave Dominic one last wistful glance as she tossed her pistol on the seat beside him. "You may need that, my lord. If you are made uncomfortable by my hounding, you may shoot me. But," she added, "take care to check the priming first."

  When she had retrieved her horse, the coach at once sprang into motion. Jason waited until they were moving at a steady pace again before speaking. "Miss Carringdon's methods may be a bit unusual, Dominic, but her motives seemed plausible enough."

  Dominic's eyes narrowed as he shot an irritated glance at his friend. "What did you want me to do, invite her to come along?"

  "What I want doesn't signify. You were a little hard on her, don't you think?"

  Dominic turned to stare out the window. "I was hoping to convince her to go home."

  Jason leaned across and picked up Brie's pistol. "I wonder if she knows how to use this," he said, examining the weapon.

  Dominic snorted. "She knows, alright. I've seen her shoot a man at point blank range and not even hesitate."

  Ignoring Jason's raised eyebrow, Dominic settled back to resume his nap, but he was hindered in his attempt to sleep by Jason's slow chuckle. "I fail to see any cause for humor," Dominic growled, prying one eye open to glare.

  "You will, my friend, when you look at this pistol. It is unloaded."

  Both Dominic's eyes flew open as he sat up. "That witless little fool! When I get my hands on her I'll—" Catching Jason's curious stare, Dominic clamped his mouth shut.

  "Yes, what will you do?"

  "Never mind." A grim expression hardened his features as he settled back again and pretended to go to sleep.

  Brie did not go home. Dominic's unwillingness to believe her had only made her more determined than ever to prove her innocence—or at the very least, to vindicate her mother.

  By the time she reached Dover, however, she was to the point of regretting her decision to follow Dominic. Having had little sleep the night before, she was exhausted from long hours in the saddle, as well as cold and hungry. For the moment she wanted nothing more than a hot bath, a warm meal, and a soft bed. When she halted her hired mount in the busy yard of The George, however, Brie hesitated. The George wasa respectable- looking inn that promised to offer all the comforts her weary body craved, but if she were to find transportation across the channel for tomorrow, she knew she ought to book passage tonight. With a regretful glance at the inn, she turned her horse toward the docks.

  Dusk was settling over the town as she made her way through the nearly deserted streets. Except for the clattering of her mount's hooves on the cobblestones and the dull murmur of the sea in the distance, the evening was quiet. Brie shivered as a cold wind whipped at her cloak. Hunching her shoulders against the chill, she pulled her hat down further to shield her face.

  As she neared the quay, she found another reason for discomfort. Lounging in the doorways and roaming the docks were small groups of fishermen and sailors who looked as if they would onjoy nothing more than a drunken brawl. Cursing herself for a fool and wishing she had kept her pistol, Brie urged her mount into a trot. She had no protection except the anonymity her hat and cloak provided, and that would hardly serve if she were to meet with any kind of trouble.

  She was very glad to find the shipping office. Keeping her head well down to hide her face, she dismounted and tethered her horse in front of the building, then entered quickly. The clerk behind the desk gave her an odd look when he realized she was a woman, but he accepted her money without argument when she requested passage to France on the first available packet.

  Brie was smiling at his dubious expression as she left th
e office, but when she reached the street, she halted in confusion. Her horse was nowhere in sight.

  Smothering a wave of panic, she forced herself to think. The shipping office would at least be safer than the dimly lit street, she realized. She was about to retrace her steps when she heard footsteps behind her. Whirling, she just managed to evade the rough hands that grabbed at her, but her heart leapt to her throat as she faced four unkempt sailors who reeked strongly of liquor.

  "We wants yer purse, cove," one said as all four slowly started to close in on her.

  Terrified, Brie took a step backward, then another, watching them warily. She knew they could smell her fear, for she could hear her own heart pounding. She was wondering if she should turn and run when, at a signal from the first man, they all rushed her at once.

  Brie struck out wildly, trying hopelessly to evade their grasping hands. Her hat was knocked from her head during the struggle, sending her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

  "Bloody 'ell, it's a woman!" the leader exclaimed.

  Brie gave a cry of mingled pain and outrage as his hand groped her breast. She brought a knee up hard, contacting his groin and causing him to double over in pain, then looked around desperately for something to use as a weapon.

  There was nothing. She caught a glimpse of a dark horseman further down the street just as another of her assailants grabbed her, but when a fist struck her face, she saw stars. She would have fallen but for the rough hands holding her.

  Then abruptly, the scene dissolved in a whirl. Brie heard the ring of steel-shod hooves on cobblestone and vaguely realized that the horseman had ridden his mount directly into the fray. There were grunts of surprise from her attackers, then howls of pain as the horseman lifted his arm time and time again to bring his riding quirt down on the shoulders of the men who held her.

  When their grasping hands released her, Brie's legs gave way and she sank to the pavement. She knelt there, sobbing and gasping for breath as her attackers fled.