What Wild Moonlight

by Lynne, Victoria

  As they moved inside, she was intensely aware of the light pressure of Nicholas’s fingers on her arm. Watching the reaction of the crowd as they moved through the bustling salons, she detected the same response to him now as she had on the occasion of the first gala they had attended, coolly deferential greetings, followed by shocked whispers, nervous excitement, and a murmur of giddy speculation trailed in their wake. Throughout it all Nicholas remained stoic and impassive, as though completely insensitive to the clamor his presence created.

  “You seem to be causing quite a commotion,” she remarked softly as they strode arm in arm through the garishly lit gaming rooms.

  Nicholas nodded politely to an elderly couple then tilted his head toward hers, a sardonic smile on his lips. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Are you truly so modest? Or merely blind in one eye?”

  His smile widened. “How do you know you’re not the one causing the sensation?”

  “I’m hardly the type to cause a commotion of any sort.”

  “On the contrary, your weekly performances here at the casino are causing quite a stir,” he countered. “Whether you’re aware of it or not, you’ve become the object of much speculation.” He led her toward an isolated corner of the room, a small oasis amid the dense crowd. There he stopped and turned toward her, his ebony gaze locking on hers. “Then there’s the matter of your appearance tonight. You look beautiful, Katya.”

  She felt her breath catch in her throat and managed a small, fluttery smile. The moment seemed to stretch between them. She could think of no reply to his words; none seemed necessary. Everything needing to be said was conveyed within the burning heat of Nicholas’s dark eyes.

  But where the moment might have led would forever remain a mystery. The spell that had fallen between them was abruptly broken as a casino employee approached Nicholas with an offer to exchange his francs for gaming tokens.

  Nicholas handed the man a thick stack of notes and received the gold tokens with a word of thanks. He then returned his attention to Katya.

  “What do you like?” he inquired politely. “Roulette, baccarat, chemin de fer?”

  “I’m not much for gambling.”

  “I hope you’ll make an exception tonight. As my mistress, it’s your sacred obligation to toss my money about as freely as a fountain spouts water.”

  She lifted her shoulders in a soft shrug. “Perhaps I’m a frugal mistress.”

  “What a ghastly idea.”

  The appalled look on his face aroused a note of genuine curiosity within her. “Is spending money truly that important?”

  “Absolutely,” Nicholas averred. “The more extravagantly and obscenely one flaunts one’s wealth, the more renown and stature one gains.” He studied her face for a moment, then continued with a slight smile, “I’d forgotten you haven’t been in Monaco long enough to see how truly preposterous it can get.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He nodded toward a stunning redhead attired in a deep emerald gown that hugged her every curve. “Do you see that woman there?” he asked. “Her name is Gabriella.” He scanned the crowd, then nodded discreetly toward another woman, a breathtaking brunette who wore a gown of shimmering gold. “That’s her rival, Lianne.”

  “Her rival?”

  “They’re both courtesans,” he explained simply. “Each woman claims to be the most coveted courtesan in all of Monaco. As you can imagine, it’s a claim that is fiercely debated.”

  It was a rather dubious distinction in Katya’s mind, but she nodded for him to continue.

  “One evening Gabriella decided to outdazzle her challenger by entering the casino in an evening gown as low cut as decency allowed and wearing what appeared to be her entire collection of jewelry—tokens she had received as gifts from her various admirers. The lot included four pearl necklaces, an emerald brooch, a diamond tiara, ruby hair clips, and sapphire ear fobs. A few minutes later, Lianne, who had been forewarned of Gabriella’s decision, made her own appearance wearing a white dress of classic simplicity and a single diamond drop at her throat”—he paused and illustrated his point by lightly placing his finger on her breastbone—“followed by her poodle bedecked in the remainder of her jewelry.”

  Katya couldn’t help but smile at the women’s outrageous antics. Although she hadn’t been in Monaco long, she could well envision the scene.

  He returned her smile, then pressed a heavy stack of gold gaming tokens into her hand. Pressing his hand lightly against the small of her back, he urged her forward into the bustling crowd. “Now go and mingle. If it makes you feel any better, bear in mind that the proceeds all go to charity. You may be as reckless as you like in good conscience.”

  Katya moved away from him, and strolled randomly from table to table, nodding to various acquaintances as she placed her wagers. Occasionally she won, more often she lost. But her mind was scarcely focused on the gaming. Instead she returned again and again to her incredible situation.

  Skirting the edge of danger had never particularly enthralled her, but everything was different in the presence of Nicholas Duvall. In fact, just the opposite was true. She had always been overly cautious, prim, and prudent. But at that moment she felt more alive, more essential, than she had ever felt. Nicholas seduced her with his words, his touch, his gaze, his very being.

  Awareness of him ran through her veins like fire. No matter where she moved in the room, she knew instantly where to find him. And she was intensely aware that he was watching her. She felt as though she were performing onstage for a private audience of one. The only thing that mattered was Nicholas’s approval. Somehow she had lost herself-—or maybe this was whom she was meant to be all along.

  She had no pangs of guilt about feeling out her prey, casually brushing up against an earl or a viscount and searching him for the scroll. She moved through the crowd with a deftness she would not have suspected she possessed. The crush of bodies, the noise, and the large amount of liquor most of the guests were imbibing made her task easier. Whereas before she had been nervous about her undertaking, now she felt nothing more than a vague sense of ease, as though her actions were completely natural.

  She was beginning to believe that the role she was playing was real—a turnabout as preposterous as believing that the magic she performed onstage was real. Both were equally illusory, but she was falling into it nonetheless. It seemed a night made for magic, and she was no more immune to the spell that Nicholas had cast over her than she was able to resist his touch.

  As the evening progressed and the crowd reached its peak, Nicholas drew her to the secluded corner where they had spoken earlier. “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Right.” His voice conveyed nothing but cool acceptance as he scanned the crowd. “Do you see that man over there? Lord Jeffrey Chalmers—the portly fellow who’s in the process of losing a fortune at roulette.”

  “Yes.” She thought for a moment and frowned. “But I believe I’ve already checked his person. He wasn’t carrying the scroll.”

  “Perhaps not on him, but something’s making him nervous. I happen to know that he and his wife rented a villa here in Monaco, yet he’s left the casino three times tonight and made his way across the street to the Hotel de Paris.”

  “Is that so unusual?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “He’s drinking heavily, and it’s clear by the way he scans the room before he leaves that he’s meeting someone over there. It may have nothing to do with the scroll, but…”

  “But?” she prompted.

  “He and my father were involved in a business deal that went awry—they both lost substantial sums. There was a great deal of animosity between them when my father died.”

  “And you think he might be striking back by stealing your family’s scroll,” she surmised.

  “I think it’s possible. Outstanding moral character is not one of Lord Chalmers’s more obvious traits.”

  “I see.” Katya c
onsidered the problem for a moment. “If he has a room at the hotel, I imagine he’s carrying the key with him.”

  A small, conspiratorial smile curved Nicholas’s lips. “That had occurred to me as well.”

  Instantly understanding what he was asking her to do, she nodded discreetly and moved away, gliding across the room toward the roulette table. She sent Lord Chalmers her most beguiling smile as she positioned herself beside him. An expression of startled pleasure flashed across his pudgy features, then he sent her a flustered smile in return. “What color have you been finding lucky this evening,” she asked, “red or black?”

  His gaze moved over her crimson gown with a look of bleary-eyed admiration. “Undoubtedly red, Miss Alexander.”

  She nodded and placed her token on red, then formed her lips into a pretty pout as the wheel came up black.

  “It’s far more complicated than merely choosing red or black,” he rushed to assure her, his chest puffed out with pompous dignity. “Do allow me to assist you.”

  He leaned solicitously toward her and explained the rules of the game. Under his tutelage, she commenced to lose one hundred francs within the space of five minutes. “It appears we are not a lucky combination,” she concluded with a soft sigh. “Perhaps I shall try again later.”

  She smiled and stepped away from him. As she moved to leave the crowded gaming room, Nicholas materialized at her side. She withdrew Lord Chalmers’s gold hotel key from within her glove and flashed it discreetly toward him. “I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’ll keep him occupied until you return.” As she turned to leave, he caught her arm. “Be careful, Katya.”

  She considered his grave features and sent him a soft smile of reassurance. “What could possibly go wrong?” she asked lightly.

  Their eyes met and held for one long, breathless moment. Nicholas’s dark gaze seemed to burn into hers, marking her with deep, possessive hunger. Finally he released her arm and she moved wordlessly away. She exited the casino and stepped onto the paved path that led to the Hotel de Paris.

  Amazing what Nicholas could do to her with just one searing look. His mere presence left her intoxicated. She felt light-headed and giddy, completely unstable—as though a thousand fluttering butterflies had been turned loose in her belly. Although she knew her feet were touching the pavement, she moved as though she were swept up in a tumultuous cloud of emotion and desire.

  The sound of a soft footfall behind her interrupted her thoughts. Katya glanced behind her only to find the street curiously empty. She gave a mental shrug and proceeded a few more yards when she heard the sound again—the distinct sound of a man’s boots striking pavement. She turned abruptly and scanned the street. Nothing. The only movement she saw was the swaying of the palm branches in the night breeze.

  Despite the visual assurance that she was alone, her instincts told her otherwise.

  Increasing her pace, she moved rapidly toward the hotel and stepped into the grand, cavernous lobby. Once inside, she was somewhat comforted by the presence of the hotel’s guests and staff. Even if someone had been following her, she was relatively safe in the hotel. Seizing that reassuring thought, she gave the night clerk a polite nod and examined the window displays of the exclusive shops that filled the lobby. She glanced from time to time at the reflections in the glass, but saw no one who looked even mildly suspicious, let alone watching her.

  Her courage restored, she proceeded up the red-carpeted steps to the room indicated on Lord Chalmers’s key. She found his room and inserted the key; the door swung smoothly open. Katya took a last glance down the hall. Satisfied that no one was about, she took a deep breath, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.

  The chamber was pitch dark, filled with an empty, hollow silence. She gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, then cautiously scanned the space. Lord Chalmers had leased a suite, she noted. The room in which she stood served as a sort of formal sitting parlor. To her left was a separate chamber that had been partitioned off as sleeping quarters. Rather than light a gas lamp and risk detection, she moved toward the window and parted the draperies. The space was immediately flooded with the soft, silvery glow of moonlight. Deciding that this was adequate, she began her search in the bedchamber. She had barely completed her preliminary search of Lord Chalmers’s bed, pillows, and dresser drawers, when she heard a faint click in the outer chamber.

  Katya froze, her pulse hammering in her ears.

  She stood unmoving, straining to hear more.

  Nothing.

  Nothing but the faint sound of her own shallow breathing.

  Then she heard it. A soft, almost imperceptible creak coming from the outer chamber. The sound made by a foot striking a squeaky floorboard. Her heart slammed against her ribs as a wave of terror washed over her. Was there someone in the suite with her? She stood absolutely still, paralyzed by fear.

  Finally she summoned the courage to move. Her eyes wide and her heart drumming madly, she padded softly into Lord Chalmers’s parlor and scanned the space. To her overwhelming relief, the room was completely empty and still save for the draperies fluttering in the breeze.

  The draperies fluttering in the breeze…

  Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown. She knew she had opened the draperies, but hadn’t the window been—

  An arm shot out of the darkness and caught her about the waist, pulling her off her feet. Before she could react, a rough male hand slammed over her mouth, choking off her cry of alarm.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Quiet.”

  The word was whispered in her ear with rough urgency. Katya didn’t hesitate to ignore the command. She opened her mouth and emitted a muffled scream as she raised her foot and slammed her heel down hard on her captor’s instep.

  She heard a softly sworn oath, followed by the words, “Dammit, Katya, it’s me!”

  It took her a moment to recognize Nicholas’s voice through the fog of terror that held her in its grip. Once it did, relief poured through her—followed immediately by anger.

  “I’m going to release my hand,” he whispered, speaking slowly and distinctly. “When I do, don’t speak. Don’t even move. Do you understand?”

  She nodded obediently.

  As soon as he removed his hand she spun around and demanded, “What in blazes are you—”

  He immediately covered her mouth again.

  Katya sent him an indignant glare and moved to jerk his hand away when she heard the sound of voices approaching from down the hall. One voice in particular caught her attention. Lord Chalmers. Her eyes widened in horrified understanding as her startled gaze flew to Nicholas. His features grim, he sent her a curt nod and released his hand.

  This time Katya made no sound. Instead her gaze moved about the room, searching frantically for a way out. Nicholas must have gained access through the second-story window. While that offered the best escape route for him, it was not an option for her—not while she was dressed in a floor length ball gown and high-heeled satin slippers. He must have come to the same conclusion, for after a brief glance at the window he turned away and quickly scanned the room, searching for a place to hide.

  The obvious solution would have been to crawl beneath the bed. Unfortunately, the mattress was dressed with only a short coverlet; there was no bedskirt to conceal them.

  The footsteps echoed closer, then Lord Chalmers’s voice carried into the room. “I know I had the blasted thing in my pocket.”

  “You’re certain the door is locked?” responded a female voice.

  “Of course it’s locked. Why wouldn’t it be locked?” Chalmers replied shortly. “Now if I can just find the bloody key…”

  The doorknob rattled.

  Katya’s gaze flew to the small table beside the door. With a jolt of dismay, she realized she had forgotten to lock the door behind her. The key rested on top of the table, exactly where she had set it after admitting herself.


  The knob rattled again—and then turned. The door began to swing open.

  “How very odd,” began Chalmers.

  The rest of his words were lost as Nicholas grabbed her by the arm and gave her a sharp tug, breaking her free from her frozen stupor. He pulled her to a tall wardrobe that stood between the bedroom and parlor. Throwing open the thick door panels, he thrust her inside then immediately followed, quietly shutting the panels behind him.

  The fit was tight—their bodies were pressed together—but the wardrobe was tall enough so that they could comfortably stand. Katya held her breath, afraid to emit even the slightest sound. The heavy tread of a man’s boots moving over the wooden floorboards told her that Lord Chalmers had entered the room. The sound was followed by the click of a delicate heel and the soft rustle of a woman’s gown. Her curiosity stirred, Katya peaked through a knothole in the wooden door. She instantly recognized the woman as Gabriella, the stunning redheaded courtesan Nicholas had pointed out earlier.

  As Katya watched, Gabriella sent Lord Chalmers a smile of calculated seduction. “The emeralds are beautiful, darling,” she cooed. She lifted her wrist and gave the glittering bracelet she wore a soft shake. “If it weren’t for your little gift, I’d have nothing to wear with my gown. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Chalmers smiled and drew the ravishing redhead closer. “On the contrary, my dear,” he said, “I think you know exactly how to thank me.”

  Katya lowered her gaze as heat stained her cheeks. Apparently Lord Chalmers’s frequent trips to his hotel room had nothing to do with the scroll—and everything to do with an illicit rendezvous with one of Monaco’s most celebrated courtesans. With that clear, she would have liked nothing more than to beat a hasty retreat. Unfortunately she and Nicholas were trapped where they stood, reluctant witnesses to the torrid affair.

  The ridiculousness of their position was suddenly vividly clear. In a moment of comic horror, she tried to imagine what she would say if Lord Chalmers were to open the wardrobe and she and Nicholas came tumbling out. She bit her lips as a wave of nervous, almost hysterical laughter welled up inside her.