Dangerous

by Monica Burns

  In some small way, she felt as if she’d betrayed Graham. Biting her lip, she swallowed hard. What had she been thinking? She’d just given herself to a stranger. She’d been intimate with a man she knew nothing about. Even his face was a mystery to her. She’d always accepted that being a Rockwood meant she possessed an impulsive and audacious nature. But this was by far and away the most outrageous thing she’d ever done. In fact, she was certain she’d outdone all the Rockwood clan with this particular incident. Overwhelmed by the wickedness of her actions, she shot upright and frantically looked around for her costume.

  Escape. The sooner she left this man’s company, the better. Her fingers absently touched her cheek as she tried to come to grips with the situation she found herself in. The golden feathers of her mask brushing across her knuckles brought a sigh of relief to her lips. The one saving grace in this entire debacle had been her foresight to keep her mask on. He would never recognize her if they met at some dinner party or other social event.

  Leaning over, she reached for the gold and green silk of her dress. The warmth of a strong hand covered her fingers, and she jerked with surprise as he gently pulled the garment from her grasp. In an odd gesture of tenderness, he stroked the side of her face with his finger as he sat down beside her.

  “You’re troubled by something.”

  “No, I’m just a bit chilly.” Even to her own ears, the words sounded false as she turned her head away from him.

  “You’ve not betrayed him, yâ sabāha. One cannot betray the dead.”

  Stunned, she stared into the blue eyes studying her with quiet assessment. Swallowing the knot in her throat, it amazed her how he’d instinctively known she was feeling guilty about Graham. Few other men would have been so perceptive. Even more astonishing was the way he’d addressed her in the Arabic language as his beauty.

  The only men she knew who spoke the language were on staff at the British Museum, and this man wasn’t one of them. She was certain of that. The scholars at the Museum were much older than this man. With another shake of her head, she reached for the gold and green silks he still held in his hand.

  “I really must go. I…what happened here tonight…”

  “Was a brief interlude, nothing more.”

  He finished the sentence for her. The matter-of-fact note in his voice filled her with relief. He did not expect their relationship to continue. To her surprise, a twinge of disappointment nipped at her. Not willing to explore the reason for her reaction, she accepted her costume from his outstretched hand. She dressed quickly, aware he was doing the same. As she adjusted the knotted material on her shoulder, she looked up to see him watching her with an intense look. It was a look that sent a blaze of excitement spiraling through her body.

  In the span of a breath, she was in his arms again as he took her mouth in a hard kiss. The uncontrolled restraint of the embrace rocked its way through her. She would never forget tonight or him as long as she lived. For a brief time, she’d experienced a passion that few would ever know. It was worth any guilt or remorse she might feel in the days to come.

  As he raised his head and stared down into her eyes, she placed her open palm against his heart. Beneath her fingertips she could feel his heartbeat. It was strong and steady. The sound of it connected her to him until his pulse thundered through her head, assaulting her senses. With the roar came the blood. It was everywhere. Looking down at her hands she gagged as she saw the bright red stains on her skin.

  The horror attacking her made her whimper as she stared helplessly about the room she was in. It was a massive library with books strewn all around the floor. Lying close to her feet was the body of a woman. Her eyes were open and vacant. Lifeless. There was a deep gash across her throat that still oozed a trickle of blood. Never in her life had her gift ever thrust her into such a horrible place. Not even her nightmares could compare with this unspeakable carnage.

  Then in the blink of an eye, the room shifted around her, and she watched as a handsome man knelt at the woman’s side. The look of grief and rage on his face swelled her throat as she suppressed her tears at his pain. In that brief moment, evil wrapped its arms around her. It pulled her into a stranger’s body and a knife appeared in her hand. In a fleeting moment of recognition, she knew she’d seen the knife before, but she couldn’t remember where. The moment was gone as a flash of light showed the blade descending to slice deep into the man’s neck, spraying his lifeblood outward.

  With a sharp cry, she raised her hands in an attempt to cover her face. Strong hands gripped her arms, and Lucien’s low voice called to her. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at him with trepidation. There was a strange glint in his gaze that unnerved her. Had he been a part of what she’d seen? Was he a murderer? Was that why she’d seen that devastating picture? She shivered.

  “Are you all right?”

  Bemused and frightened, she nodded. “Yes, I…forgive me—I must go.”

  “You’re frightened.”

  “No,” she said sharply, and beneath the black silk of his mask, she saw his piercing blue eyes narrow.

  Oh God, did he know what she’d seen? No, how could he? She had to get away. Even if he wasn’t involved in the horrendous crime she’d witnessed, he was the catalyst that had brought the images forth. Terrible images she wanted to forget. Trembling, she pushed her way out of his arms, and without another word sped toward the door.

  Behind her, he uttered a soft oath. Not daring to look over her shoulder, she fumbled with the key before the lock clicked open. The sound of his footsteps propelled her out the door and down the corridor to the brightly lit ballroom. Tonight had ended with a memory she wanted to forget, but knew she never would.

  Berkshire

  Lyndham Keep, Two Months Later

  It was gloomy. No, bleak and desolate was a more accurate description. Against the dreary looking rain clouds, the gray stone walls of Lyndham Keep looked almost menacing. Staring out the carriage window at the massive stone building, Constance shook her head at the fanciful thought. The place hardly looked all that ominous considering the reason for her flight from London.

  “It looks like a haunted castle, Mother.” Jamie’s comment made her turn her head back to her son. The excitement on his face tugged a smile to her lips.

  “It does a little bit, doesn’t it. Now remember what I told you earlier. You’re to be on your best behavior.”

  “Yes, Mother.” His attention span short, he stared back out the window. “Do you think the earl is going to be angry when he finds out you’re a woman?”

  The question sent apprehension skating down her spine. After a lengthy correspondence, the earl had offered her the position of cataloging his Egyptian artifacts without ever questioning her as to her sex. After all, it hadn’t been relevant. Had it?

  Jamie was right, what would the earl think when he finally met C. Stewart? Would he send her packing for not belaboring the point that she was a woman? The curiosity in her son’s eyes made her flinch as she shook her head in a gesture of uncertainty. She couldn’t let the earl even consider the possibility. She had to convince him that he’d based his decision to hire C. Stewart on her credentials and not her sex. C. Stewart had been selected to catalog the earl’s Egyptian artifacts because of her skill and knowledge, nothing more.

  She had no intention of losing this position. Lyndham Keep was sanctuary. A place to hide until he stopped looking for her. She shivered. It had been two months since the Black Widows Ball. What had begun as a glorious night of pleasure had ended on a note of horror. A true Rockwood, she’d succumbed to impulse and only afterward had she realized the folly of her actions. Although the doctors had said she would never conceive again, the possibility had still haunted her. It had been a relief when she learned she wasn’t with child, but her connection to the stranger had still remained. Closing her eyes briefly, she remembered the dreams that began
shortly after her interlude with the highwayman.

  In her dreams, the man who called himself Lucien searched for her. From one drawing room to the next, he hunted for her. The first night she’d brushed the dream off as a remnant of fear from what she’d experienced in Lucien’s presence. But as the dreams continued pushing their way into her sleep, something changed.

  At first she couldn’t understand what was different about each successive dream. Then she realized what it was. With each dream, he came closer to her. At first he’d been a shadowy figure in the distance, but as each night passed, he was more distinct—real. His mask still hid his face, but she knew it was him. The dreams convinced her he was looking for her, and the only way to escape was to leave London.

  The thought of telling her family about her predicament had occurred to her, but she’d quickly discarded the notion. The last thing she wanted to do was admit to any of her siblings that she’d gone to the Black Widows Ball. Louisa and Patience would simply be amused by her daring. Unfortunately the rest of the Rockwood clan would be less than amused.

  While her sister-in-law would have tried to shield her, not even Helen’s sway over her husband would have staved off any inquisition. As the family patriarch, Sebastian would have demanded a full account of her actions, with Percy and Caleb in complete agreement. No, she’d been wise not to confide in her family. Her brothers would have suffocated her with a well-intentioned cloak of protection.

  She’d even considered taking a house in the country for a few months. It would have strained her household budget considerably, but she’d been willing to do whatever it took to escape the man searching for her. Then the earl had made his decision, and it had been manna from heaven. The joy of being responsible for such a notable collection of artifacts was second only to the knowledge that she could escape London for several months until she completed the archiving of the earl’s antiquities collection. By the time she returned, Lucien would no longer be looking for her.

  Now, trepidation wound its way through her like a vine of ivy, threatening to choke her as she stared out the carriage window at the large keep they were approaching. Jamie had asked an excellent question. What would the earl do when he found out he’d secured the services of a woman to catalog his prized Egyptian artifacts?

  The carriage rocked to a halt, and she tried to ignore the apprehension nibbling at her. It was quite likely she’d be sent straight back to the rail station the moment her deception was discovered. As the coach door opened, she accepted the footman’s assistance and descended from the carriage. The massive wood doors of Lyndham Keep rose up like giant oaks, reinforcing the image of an ancient battlement. Standing just outside the door was a slenderly built man who bowed as she climbed the steps.

  “Good afternoon, madam. We were expecting a Mr. Stewart.”

  “I’m C. Stewart. Would you please inform his lordship that I’ve arrived.” Her response made the man’s eyes widen, but other than that he showed no other sign of surprise.

  “His lordship isn’t expected home for at least three weeks, madam, but Lady Lyndham asked to see you when you arrived.”

  She inhaled a deep breath as she nodded in silent response. With her hand on Jamie’s shoulder, they followed the butler into a massive hall. The stone walls rose up at least two levels to wide beams that served to hold up the ceiling. A huge tapestry hung against one wall, while two complete sets of armor framed the entry to a large library. Her heart skipped a beat as she walked past the open doorway of the large book-filled room. The Lyndham Library—from what she could see, the room was every bit as massive as she’d heard. Rumor held the Lyndham Library rivaled Queen Victoria’s private collection.

  The sound of her shoes clicking on the stone floor mingled with the swish of her bustled gown, the usually soft noise echoing loudly in the great hall. It underlined the sonorous depth of the room. The hair on the back of her neck tingled as she sensed someone or something watching her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the figure of a man standing in the shadows near the library door.

  An instant later he vanished in a thin stream of mist. Frowning, she inhaled a deep breath. It didn’t surprise her to find one or more spirits lingering in a structure as old as Lyndham Keep. The family descended from the time of William the Conqueror. Once more she was reminded of the menacing appearance the keep had presented only a short time ago. With great effort, she controlled the sudden urge to run back to the carriage, dragging Jamie with her. She cast the thought aside. Going back to London was out of the question.

  Following the butler, they walked into a room with a ceiling that wasn’t quite as high as the main hall. Despite its large size, the room was warm and cozy with its lemon chintz cushions and a roaring fire in the immense hearth. Seated in a wing-backed chair of floral print, an elderly woman eyed Jamie with a look of astonishment before turning her intimidating gaze on Constance.

  Powdery white hair piled atop her head in an outdated style, the dowager countess’s piercing blue eyes pinned their fierce brightness on her. Blue-veined hands rested on the head of a cane she held. The woman presented the air of a fierce and regal matriarch.

  For a brief instant, she saw something vaguely familiar in the woman’s expression. Had she met the woman before? She dismissed the notion as Lady Lyndham’s sharp gaze settled on her, and her heart sank. There was the distinct possibility the dowager would send her back to London without an opportunity to even plead her case with the earl. Remembering her manners, she curtseyed as she halted in front of the dowager.

  “Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “Harrumph. Jacobs tells me you’re Mr. Stewart.”

  Steadily meeting the older woman’s stern gaze, Constance nodded. “I am C. Stewart, my lady. I applied for the earl’s cataloger position using the initial of my given name and my mother’s maiden name.”

  For a long moment, the woman glared down her sharp, regal nose at her. Determined not to flinch in the face of such a penetrating look, Constance lifted her chin and did not allow her gaze to waver beneath the other woman’s crystal-blue gaze. The sudden sound of laughter tumbling from the woman’s lips made Constance jump. It wasn’t quite the reaction she had expected.

  “You have backbone, girl. I like that.”

  “My lady?”

  “You secure this position without disclosing the full truth of who you are, and then you waltz into this ancient hall with a brazen confidence I’ve not seen in years. And with a child no less.”

  Constance touched Jamie’s shoulder. “If I may, my lady, this is my son, Lord Westbury. Jamie, Lady Lyndham.”

  At the introduction, Jamie immediately stepped forward and bowed over the dowager’s hand to brush the air above her fingers with his mouth. The deep chuckle rippling from the woman’s wrinkled throat made Jamie a bit more audacious, and Constance sucked in a quick breath of horror as she saw him wink at the woman.

  Another roar of laughter parted the woman’s mouth. “By God, boy, you have as much cheek as your mother. Come, sit down. Both of you.”

  Motioning for them to take a seat in the chairs opposite her regal figure, Lady Lyndham picked up a bell on the table beside her. When the woman shook it, the shrill ring had an edge to it that heightened Constance’s already finely tuned senses. With a fierce look of disapproval at her son, she sank down into the chair next to Jamie, uncertain of what to expect next. An inspection by the dowager was the last thing she’d anticipated in coming to Lyndham Keep.

  The prickling sensation at her neck made her look over her shoulder as the butler entered the room. A light mist hovered in the salon doorway as Lady Lyndham tossed her hand up in an imperial gesture.

  “Tea for three, Jacobs. And bring some of the blackberry scones Cook promised to make today.” Without waiting for the man’s acknowledgement, Lady Lyndham turned back to Constance. “Now then, C. Stewart. Tell me why you applied for the posit
ion my grandson advertised.”

  Jerking her head around to meet the other woman’s piercing gaze, Constance lifted her chin. “It’s reputed the artifacts in the earl’s Egyptian collection are some of the finest in the world. I’ve been a student of ancient Egypt since childhood, and I’ve studied Egyptology with several scholars at the British Museum. As I outlined in my letter to his lordship, I am eminently qualified for the position.”

  “I see.” The woman’s eyebrow arched with imperial flair. “And what made you think my grandson would agree to your employment once he discovered the truth about you?”

  Constance glanced down at her gloved hands, surprised to see them clutching her beaded purse with desperation. What in heaven’s name was wrong with her? She was acting as if she’d just been caught in a lie by one of the nuns at St. Bridget’s Academy. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her head and met the woman’s gaze with a steady look.

  “To be quite frank, my lady, I didn’t even consider that possibility. I had thought to impress him with my work so he would overlook the minor detail of my sex.”

  “Hmm,” the old woman murmured as she nodded her head. “Is this madcap behavior a common one for you?”

  The question made Constance wince. The Rockwood disposition for impulsive behavior had always ensured she acted without thinking. But applying for the position of cataloger to the Earl of Lyndham had been driven by more than impulse. She’d needed salvation.

  “It is true that my family is known for their impetuous natures, but I am confident my knowledge will serve the earl well.”

  Jacobs entered the room with a tray of china. The cups rattled lightly as he set the tea on the table next to Lady Lyndham. Ignoring the man, the old woman arched an eyebrow at Constance.

  “How do you take your tea, girl?”

  “Two lumps, my lady.”

  With a bob of her powdery white head, Lady Lyndham poured the hot liquid, added the sugar then handed a cup to Constance. The piercing blue of her gaze swung to Jamie. “It appears that Jacobs has brought you a glass of milk to accompany your scones, young man. I take it that will be satisfactory.”