One Night with a Scoundrel

by Shelly Thacker

  “Come in.”

  He sounded almost cheerful. She opened the door just a bit, feeling wary. “Mr. Townshend told me that you had returned from riding. I thought I might…that is, your mother…May I speak with you?”

  “Yes, but you’ll have to stop hovering in the doorway and come over here.”

  Ashiana blinked, surprised by his light, teasing tone. She let go of the doorknob and stepped into his study.

  He stood on the opposite side of the room, leaning against one of the tall windows, his muscular form outlined by the gray light of the autumn evening. Looking relaxed, he stayed where he was as she came in, his boots crossed at the ankle, a glass of amber liquid in one hand. His attire was casual, buff-colored breeches and waistcoat and a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a cravat dangling half-untied around his neck. A day spent outdoors had left his hair tousled from the wind and deepened the color in his bronzed cheeks.

  He glanced her way as she entered. “Did you enjoy your…”

  As she stepped into the chandelier’s light, he seemed to forget the rest of the question he meant to ask. He blinked, then stared, his gaze traveling from her coiffed tresses to her slippers and back again. The silvery color of his eyes went all warm and smoky in a way that made her breath catch.

  It made her remember the first time she had seen that look in his eyes—that special night under the stars aboard the Valor, when they had shared supper on deck and laughed together about so many things and he had told her how beautiful she was.

  Saxon blinked again, clearing his throat. “I see that my mother spent the day introducing you to every shopkeeper in the West End.”

  His tone was still light, and Ashiana realized that he didn’t object to his mother’s kind treatment. “Yes. That is…she has been most generous. Too generous.” She looked down at her skirt, smoothing her gloved hands over the heavy silk. Paige had called the color cran-ber-ee. “This is just a gown that the seamstress had on hand. The others will be arriving in a few days.”

  She wasn’t sure he was listening. His smoky gaze kept tracing over her with the intimacy of a caress.

  He swirled the liquor in his glass. “The color suits you.” Taking a drink, he turned to the window again. “You’ve never looked more beautiful, my lady.”

  Ashiana felt amazement and warmth chase through her at his compliment. She was not sure she had ever seen Saxon in such a relaxed, pleasant mood before. There was a new ease, a lightness about him. Almost like…happiness.

  You must think of your family, she admonished herself. Your family and duty. And Rao.

  Her throat felt dry. “You are happy to be home.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t turn around, but she could hear the pleasure and pride and firmness in that one word.

  Ashiana moved toward him, stopping on the near side of a heavy, carved desk. It seemed like a good idea to keep something large and solid between them. “Your mother said you spent the day with your brother Max?”

  She cursed herself as a coward, dancing around the one question she truly needed to ask.

  “I was getting to know him.” Saxon leaned one brawny shoulder against the window, smiling down into his glass. “Last time I saw him, he was barely more than a lad, so sick he couldn’t get out of bed. Now he’s a man. Hell of a man at that. Speaks five languages and knows more about science and politics and literature than any professor at Oxford. Crack shot with a pistol, too. Says he rigged up a chair with carriage wheels and used to have the servants take him outside to practice target shooting when Mother wasn’t around.” Saxon’s smile widened until his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Can’t ride worth a damn, though. I was giving him some lessons.”

  Ashiana felt Saxon’s happiness seep into her. He loved his brother, his family, so very much. Loved them. Every bit as much as she loved the maharaja and her family.

  She felt an ache inside, seeing him so happy and at peace.

  It made her purpose in coming to his study all the more painful.

  He stepped away from the window, still smiling. “What else did my mother tell you?”

  His question caught her off guard. She gazed down at her white-gloved fingers, splayed on the smooth, dark top of the desk. “Her…her favorite subject seems to be her children. She mentioned that Maximilian inherited her love of learning, Julian her sense of humor, and the oldest one—”

  “Dalton,” Saxon supplied.

  “Yes, that Dalton inherited her flair for mischievous escapades.”

  Saxon set his glass on the desk between them, resting his palms on the polished top. “And?” he asked expectantly.

  “And?”

  “What about me?”

  “Oh.” She tried to remember Paige’s exact words. “She said that you favor your father. Something about scoundrels and grains of salt. And sheep.”

  His expression reflected complete puzzlement. “I see. And what else did my mother expound upon while the two of you were emptying the shops of London?”

  “She…well…she did talk quite a bit about how much she loves history. She said she has studied it all her life, and even named each of her sons after a famous historical personage. Except for you, of course, because you were born during what she calls her ‘medieval era.’”

  He gave her a pained look. “You said that you wanted to speak with me, Ashiana. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  Her stomach knotted. “Something I asked your mother. She said I should ask you.”

  “Ask,” he said lightly.

  “It is about the sapphires. Why you wanted them so badly. It has something to do with your brother Max, doesn’t it?”

  He straightened, his smile vanishing.

  “Paige said she would answer my question, if you did not,” Ashiana added quickly. “But she felt you should be the one to tell me.”

  With a grimace, Saxon picked up his glass, stalking back to the window.

  Ashiana remained quiet, giving him time, as Paige had advised.

  After a long, silent moment, her patience was rewarded. Saxon’s shoulders relaxed. He shook his head and exhaled slowly. “I don’t suppose it matters anymore, now that he’s well. It’s over.” He took a long drink from his glass. “Yes, it had something to do with Max.”

  “Then if the jewels do not matter to you anymore…will you give me the sapphire you have and let me return home?”

  He turned toward her so fast that liquor sloshed over the edge of his glass. “No.”

  It was the answer she had expected, but it made her no less exasperated. “Why not? You just said it doesn’t matter anymore—”

  “I said no.”

  Stubborn, unreasonable, unyielding man. “I wish you would tell me,” she said, clenching her gloved fists, “why the sapphires mean so much to you. I told you why I needed to have them, but you have told me nothing. From the beginning, I assumed that your motive was riches. When I asked Paige—”

  “The curse,” he bit out.

  “Curse? What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, please. The curse that struck my father, because he stole that blasted sapphire all those years ago. The curse that slowly drained the life out of him. The one that almost killed Max.” His voice faltered, then strengthened. “The damned curse that demanded that all nine sapphires had to be reunited in the hands of the thief or one of his blood heirs.”

  Ashiana felt as if she had just been struck by one of the carriages that sped through the London streets. “That was why you wanted the sacred stones?” she asked breathlessly. “To save your family? To save Max from this curse?”

  “You expect me to believe that you never knew?”

  “And what would you have done with the sapphires, once you had reunited them?”

  “I’m not a fool. I wouldn’t want Ajmir assassins and Ajmir spies—” He punctuated the last word with a meaningful look. “—pursuing me for the rest of my life. Once I was sure that Max was all right, I meant to give them back.”

>   Ashiana gaped at him, stunned as the truth of his words washed over her. Suddenly it all made sense. It was the only explanation that made sense. She felt behind her with one trembling hand and sank into a nearby chair. He hadn’t come after the jewels out of greed or selfishness or arrogance, but out of…

  Love.

  Love for his family, for his brother. Love that had been strong enough to drive him through ten years of searching and suffering and even torture. It tore her apart to know that he could love that deeply.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked bleakly.

  He regarded her with an expression of disbelief. “I was supposed to reveal everything to you?”

  Ashiana closed her eyes, stung by the meaning behind his words. Saxon had never trusted her enough to share the truth about his quest with her. Especially not after discovering that she was an Ajmir spy.

  Even now, he still considered her his enemy.

  Blinking away the dampness in her eyes, she raised her chin, every bit as stubborn as he was. She dared to hope that she could make him believe in her as she now believed in him…and make him understand that he must do the right thing and give her the sapphire.

  “Our reasons were the same, don’t you see that? I was fighting to save my family, just as you were fighting to save yours. How can you condemn me for what I did if you don’t condemn yourself?”

  He didn’t reply. A muscle flexed in his jaw.

  “Saxon, I know you will never believe this, but I didn’t know about the curse. The maharaja never told me. He never told me. Just as he never told me that Ajmir warriors had tortured you. I thought—”

  “You thought your people were paragons of virtue and all Englishmen were marauding pirates.”

  Ashiana lowered her lashes. For the first time, she felt anger—true anger—at her own people. They had played on her feelings, told her only what they wanted her to know, to enflame her hatred against him. So that she would take the sapphire and kill him without a thought.

  She almost had.

  They had used her.

  Tears burned her eyes. “They kept it all from me.” She hung her head, feeling more alone than she could ever remember feeling in her life. “I know you can’t believe that, but it is the truth.”

  She heard him set his empty glass on the desk. She thought he would walk out.

  Instead, he came to stand beside her chair.

  And when he reached down with one hand and tipped her chin up, his gentleness stole her breath away.

  His lips were still pressed together in a hard line, but the anger had melted out of him.

  “If I had been in their place,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t have told you either. If you had any sympathy for the enemy, you wouldn’t have made much of a spy.”

  Ashiana trembled with emotion. He believed her. His trust filled her with as much warmth as his touch.

  But then a chilling realization struck her. “This curse—it’s on you now, isn’t it?” She stood, facing him. “You reunited the sacred stones, but you separated them again.”

  He shrugged and turned away. “It doesn’t matter. Max is well. And I feel fine.”

  “Did it affect your father right away, after he stole the first sapphire?”

  Saxon paused for a moment, looking as if he were trying to remember. “No.” He only shrugged again, walking toward the hearth. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Ashiana felt her heartbeat double. It did matter! He mattered. Saxon was more important to her than she had ever allowed herself to admit or accept.

  The curse now put his life in danger—and because she had lied to him on the island, insisted that the sapphires were gone, it would be her fault if anything happened to him.

  She realized that she was going to have to be completely honest with him.

  Taking as deep a breath as she could manage, she braced herself and said it all in one sentence. “It matters and we can do something about it because the other eight sapphires are still on the island.”

  He cursed as he spun to face her. “I knew you were lying about that!” His gaze was sharp. “Damn it, Ashiana, you looked right into my eyes and swore they were lost!”

  “I didn’t know about the curse! If you had been honest with me, I would have been honest with you!”

  “It’s too late to argue about who lied to whom first.”

  “I couldn’t tell you before, but I am telling you now. I—”

  “Where on the island?”

  Ashiana tucked in her chin. He didn’t seem to notice that she was taking an incredible risk, trusting him with her last and most important secret.

  “They are not on the island exactly,” she whispered. “I hid them at sea.”

  “How in the name of God did you hide them at sea?”

  “I am a very strong swimmer.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes.

  He looked dumbfounded. “I should have guessed. Any woman who knew those islands well enough to be able to make watertight mats and swing through the trees on a vine would be able to swim, too.”

  “What’s important is that I know where they are. We have to take the one you have and reunite them before it is too late.”

  “I can’t leave London now. There’s that matter of business I have to attend to. I’ll leave after it’s taken care of.”

  “We will leave,” she corrected.

  He arched one brow. “You don’t trust me? I told you I’m going to give them back.”

  “But you cannot give them back. I have to do it. If you go anywhere near the Ajmir, they’ll kill you! You would never have the chance to say a word of explanation before they cut your throat!”

  “I’ll wrap the sapphires in swaddling and leave them on their doorstep,” he said sarcastically. “I’m not taking you with me. Now where exactly are they?”

  Ashiana crossed her arms. “If you don’t know where they are, you will have to take me along.”

  “I don’t need your help.” He sounded exasperated. “Now that I know they’re in the sea—”

  “It’s a very large sea. And I am a strong swimmer. You don’t know how far out they are. You don’t even…” Her voice broke. “You don’t even know if you’ll be well enough to look for them once you get there.”

  He tore off the cravat that dangled around his neck and stalked away from her. “After everything, you still want to return home to your people?” He crumpled the white fabric in one hand. “To your prince?”

  Ashiana bit her lower lip. “Did you intend to keep me here forever?”

  He turned to face her. She could not bear the intensity of his gaze…or the silence when he refused to answer.

  “I am an Ajmir princess,” she said with quiet pride. “I must go home.”

  He clenched his jaw, his voice deepening. “Even knowing what you know now, your duty and your clan still mean more to you than anything?”

  She blinked back tears. “When you disagree with your family, do they mean any less to you? Do you love them any less? Even if all the years and miles in the world parted you from them, would you ever stop trying to get home?” She motioned to the window. “Think of how happy you felt today. Is it so difficult to understand why that is what I want?”

  He shook his head and started to say something, then stopped himself.

  Turning on his heel, he headed for the door. “You’ll only have to suffer England a few more weeks. As soon as I’ve finished my business here, I’ll take you back to your family.”

  John Summers, Sixth Earl of Greyslake, spent his first morning back in London lounging in bed at his town house, the only sanctuary where he didn’t mind exposing the scars burned into his arms and hands. Gulping down coffee liberally laced with rum, he perused the newspapers.

  He was featured prominently on the front page of every one of them: The Daily Post, The Grub Street Journal, The London Evening Post, The Courant, The Gazette. Chortling, he lit a cigar and clamped it between his teeth.

  “L
ook at this one.” He smacked the bare rump of the expensive harlot dozing beside him. “‘All London has cause for celebration as perhaps the greatest hero of the year reached our shores yestereve. Captain Greyslake of His Majesty’s sloop Phoenix, at personal risk to life and limb, did gallantly rescue every survivor from the unfortunate Indiaman Valor and grant one and all safe passage home to these fair climes. It is believed he will receive not only a full pardon from the Admiralty for being late in returning to London when recalled, but will accept a much-deserved promotion—’”

  The whore groaned and pulled a pillow over her head.

  Greyslake hit her with the paper. “Pay attention when I’m reading to you, damn it. It’s not every day you have the honor of servicing a national hero. Show some gratitude.”

  Picking up a pair of shears from the bedside table, he clipped the article and placed it in the pile with all the others, to be enjoyed in detail later. Grabbing his coffee, he drank between puffs on the cigar then picked up the next paper on the silver tray.

  He hadn’t expected things to turn out quite this well. He had thought he might have to do a bit of dodging with the Admiralty to explain why the Phoenix had trailed in long after the rest of the fleet.

  It seemed poetic justice that the “rescue” of the Valor’s sorry crew made such an excellent alibi. What a perfect finale to D’Avenant’s death.

  In truth, he was late because he had resumed his course for the Andamans—where he left his ship with a few selected men and conducted a clandestine search of the islands.

  Which proved fruitless.

  Greyslake frowned. Even the glowing praise he was reading in The Daily Advertizer could not erase that disappointment. He had wanted those bloody sapphires—almost as much as he had wanted D’Avenant dead—but they were nowhere to be found. His search for the jewels had begun years ago as pure vengeance, with the goal of leaving the D’Avenant family forever cursed. But he certainly wouldn’t mind becoming one of the world’s richest men.

  Unfortunately, the only information his spies had been able to glean on the islands were rumors: about secret plans and an adopted English girl, a princess, who had recently been banished from the clan.