Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4

by Patricia Hagan

  She looked at Hollister, and then back at Gavin. What else could she do except obey Gavin once more? She couldn’t take any chances with Charles’s life. Later, there might be a chance to escape. Now, she was helpless.

  Forcing a smile she went to Charles and told him, “It’s all right. We’re going to Monaco for a while. You’ve missed home, haven’t you?”

  Before Charles could answer, Dirk lifted him and strode quickly toward the train, Briana following close behind. Dirk and Charles disappeared inside the train, and a conductor wearing a black uniform helped Briana step up on a wooden platform. She took the conductor’s hand, then hesitated a moment before turning around to face Gavin. Her eyes were almost black with rage. “You have pushed me too far, sir. I yield to you no longer after this day.”

  She entered the train.

  Gavin stared after her. She was in for quite a surprise if she thought she could tell him what was what.

  But something in her voice, her gaze, had been so chilling that, despite his contempt for her, Gavin actually trembled.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Briana and Charles were taken to a small private compartment on the train and locked inside. Narrow wooden benches faced each other. There was a large square window. Charles was situated so that he could view the countryside and the spectacle of the French Alps rushing toward him as the train headed south. After tucking a blanket around his knees, Briana sat down opposite him, filled with the joy of being with him.

  She took his hands in hers and squeezed them gently. The train began to chug forward. “Tell me about it,” she urged him. “Tell me about the operation, and what the doctors say—everything.”

  His eyes searched hers, and his lower lip quivered. “Where were you, Briana? Why weren’t you there when I was so sick? You were away for so long…” His tone was accusing, and he rushed on to cry, “And who are all those people with Monsieur Mason? I watched them loading big crates onto the train. They look mean. I don’t understand…so many things.”

  His eyes were filled with tears, and Briana struggled to control her own emotions. Now was not the time. She lifted her chin, forced a smile, and hoped her lies were convincing.

  She had fabricated a story for him, all about traveling to America with Gavin to work for him, cooking for him, to earn the money to pay Charles’s doctors in Paris.

  They had, she told him, gone to America to collect money from the estate of a relative of Alaina’s who had died in the past year. “So now Madame deBonnett’s money problems are over,” she finished, making her voice bright and bubbly, “and so are ours.”

  “But those rough-looking men—”

  “Nothing to fear,” she said firmly. “They are just the guards Monsieur Mason hired to look after all his money.

  “Now then,” she urged, “I want to hear all about you.”

  Charles tried to appear brave as he told what he remembered about the operation. He said it had not hurt too terribly much, but Briana’s heart went out to him, for she knew he had suffered…and suffered alone.

  “And, Briana,” he finished with a triumphant sigh, “there’s this new doctor, Richibauld, who says he can fit me with special braces. With training, he says, maybe I can walk one day—without crutches! Isn’t that amazing?” His brown eyes were bright.

  Briana’s smile was as wide as his. “Then I promise we will return to Paris as soon as possible.”

  He went on to explain that the doctor had said it would take time for his spine to heal completely, and that was the reason he was confined strictly to the wheelchair for several more weeks yet. The doctors didn’t want him even attempting to use crutches.

  They talked and talked. Around noon, a guard brought a basket of food—cheese, bread, apples and oranges, wine for Briana, and milk for Charles. After eating, they stretched out on the benches and gave way to the sleepiness inspired by the steady rhythm of the train as it rumbled along.

  Slumber did not last long, however, for, with a loud screeching and repeated hissing of steam, sparks flying as wheels ground against the track, the train careened to a halt.

  Dirk Hollister opened the compartment door to see if they were all right, explaining that the train had stopped just before plowing into a snowslide. An avalanche from the jagged mountain above had sent snow cascading down onto the tracks. It would, the trainmen predicted, take several hours to clear the way.

  They passed the time by talking, both Charles and Briana having so much to say. She told him all about Nevada, the ranch, some of her happier experiences there. She talked about riding Belle out on the plains, rhapsodizing over the awesomely beautiful scenery.

  She even told him a little about Colt, describing him as a friend she had met on the ranch. As she talked, she became gratefully aware that reminiscences of the happier moments helped assuage the regrets. For a little while, she was able to pretend that nothing ugly had happened. She felt warm all over speaking of Colt so tenderly, so lovingly, and she didn’t realize just how clear her innermost feelings were becoming to Charles until he interrupted her with a smile.

  “Briana, I think you went to America and fell in love.”

  Unable to respond, she laughed nervously, feeling foolish. “That’s ridiculous. Mr. Coltrane was a very nice man and we had some good times together, but that is all. Besides,” she said with mock superiority, “What does a ten-year-old know about love?”

  Enjoying the merriment, Charles teased her. “He will write to you, and ask you to marry him, and we can both move to America and live on the ranch. Do you suppose that might happen?” His eyes were dancing, and Briana realized he wasn’t merely teasing. He liked the idea, and she couldn’t have him daydreaming over such nonsense. She would never see Colt again.

  “He has someone,” she lied quickly, turning her face away lest Charles see the pain that was surely there. “He loves her very much.”

  Despite the effort she was making, tears began. Charles touched gentle fingertips against her cheek. “I understand,” he whispered.

  Briana prayed to God to forgive her for what she’d done to Colt, for she knew she would do it all over again to save this precious child’s life.

  It was night before the tracks were cleared and the train could move. How long, Briana wondered through the black night hours as Charles slept soundly opposite her, before Gavin would finally keep his end of the bargain and allow her and Charles to go free?

  They reached Lyon as the sun was rising, and took another train to Nice, arriving at night.

  She woke Charles and had him bundled in blankets and ready when Artie and Biff came to carry him outside to a waiting carriage. She followed close behind, worrying that the short, slight Biff might drop Charles. The night was cold, and she shivered despite her thick woolen cape.

  An entourage of two carriages and three wagons carried them and the gold bars to Monaco, to the deBonnett estate. Briana overheard Gavin telling Dirk that he was glad they were behind schedule, for their nighttime arrival meant that there would not be people around whose curiosity would be aroused by all the wagons and the six men in western American dress. Gavin had left Monaco with only Briana, but had returned with an army of gunslingers.

  Charles fell asleep again before they reached the estate. Briana protested when Dirk lifted the boy from the carriage, and headed for the château. She scrambled to follow but was restrained by one of the other men as Gavin gave them instructions. Briana had assumed that she and Charles would go to their little cottage at the rear of the estate. But it appeared that they were to be lodged in the château. It was not a good sign.

  She watched, Lem holding her arms, as Gavin gave orders for the wooden crates to be taken around to the rear, where a hatchway led to the wine cellar. Briana shuddered, thinking about that terrifying place. It was icy cold down there, for the catacomb-like structure had been dug out of stone, straight through the bowels of the Earth. She had hated having to go down there to fetch wine, fearing unknown dangers in those s
hadows. The steps leading down were long, narrow, and curving. Once, when she was a child, the burning torch she carried had been extinguished by a draft, and she was plunged into devouring darkness. She had screamed in terror, but there was no one to hear her, so she forced herself to calm down and picked her way back up the stairs, groping along the slimy walls. There were spiders down there, and countless rats. It was a memory that still tortured her, and she avoided the wretched place whenever she could.

  Gavin signaled to Lem, and Briana was taken into the château with the rest of them. They were met by the sight of Alaina and Delia glaring at each other.

  “Damn you, Gavin,” Alaina exploded, “I’ll not have you ignore me this way! I have waited and waited to hear how things were going, and now you just walk in with this…this woman!” she sputtered, nodding toward Delia. “Who is this creature? How dare you bring her into my home without asking my permission?”

  Gavin regarded her stormily. He hated scenes, especially when other people were present. “Not now, Alaina. I am tired. I need food and wine. See to both. Bring them to my room.”

  He turned toward the stairs, but female voices assailed him. Alaina screamed for answers. Delia whined.

  “Take me to my brother,” Briana said to Dirk. “At once. I don’t care anything about any of this.”

  The ensuing bellow from Gavin struck everyone silent. He repeated his orders for food and wine to Alaina, then told Delia to shut up. “Go to the top of the stairs and turn left. The first room on the right is yours. Wait there until you hear from me, and don’t say another word. Go!”

  Delia scurried up the stairs, biting back tears of humiliation. She had come to Europe to be treated like a queen…not like a slave.

  He turned to Hollister. “The cripple is no problem, but she has to be kept under guard. Lock her in the wine cellar.”

  Horrified, Briana turned to run. Lem wrapped beefy arms around her, holding her hard. Struggling with all her might, she shrieked at Gavin, “You bastard! I did everything you asked me to do. Why are you doing this to me?”

  Shaking his head dolefully, Gavin said, “You fool. Do you think I am so stupid as to set you free and allow you to tell the authorities—tell anyone—what we did? I realized you were falling in love with Coltrane. I knew you were getting weak, and I know human nature very well. Your kind, my dear, will keep on stewing over the past, allowing your conscience to get the best of you, until you just have to confess everything, trying to put things right.”

  He sighed, mourning the idiocy of human nature. Then, signaling to Dirk, he continued up the stairs, oblivious to her shrieking.

  Dirk took out a kerchief and stuffed it in Briana’s mouth as Lem held her. “I believe,” Dirk drawled, “the boss said you were going nighty-night in the cellar, sweetheart, so let’s go.”

  She tried to kick him, but Dirk sidestepped away from her. He and Lem, assisted by Artie, the guard with the snakelike eyes, took her out of the château and around to the side. Dirk’s three other men were standing around, and he snapped at Biff to get a torch and lead him down into the cellar.

  Thirty-seven steps took them all the way down. When they reached the bottom, Dirk set Briana’s feet on the cold, rocky floor but continued to hold her wrists together tightly. He nodded to Buff, telling him to set the torch in a holder jutting from the stone wall. Then he dismissed the guards, and Dirk and Briana were left alone.

  Dirk released her, and she pulled the gag away. “You can’t leave me down here. It…it isn’t humane.”

  Dirk snorted, looking around. He counted six wine kegs, and there were two walls covered in tilting shelves, with places for two hundred wine bottles, though there were not that many in stock. “Seems to me you can have yourself a good time. Just start drinking, sweetheart, and the time will go by very fast.”

  “Couldn’t you just tie me somewhere upstairs? Is it necessary for me to be in this horrible place?” she cried.

  Dirk shrugged. “You heard the boss give the orders. I just follow them.”

  Briana clenched her fists. “You can’t leave me down here. Talk to Gavin. Tell him what it’s like down here. Tell him I promise not to make any trouble. I swear this on the graves of my parents…”

  “Hell, sweetheart, I just don’t know…” He scratched his chin, pretending to consider it. Actually, he had no intention of asking Gavin to change his mind, for he was enjoying this. She was a haughty little bitch, and he liked seeing her desperate.

  Finally he told her, “I’ll go upstairs and see if I can persuade him to put you somewhere else. But I can’t guarantee anything. You’ve known him a lot longer than I have. Hell, I don’t have to tell you how stubborn he can be.

  “So,” he continued, after flashing her a big grin, “I’ll do what I can.”

  Briana nodded. “That would be very kind of you. And I would also appreciate your finding out about Charles—where he has been taken, who is caring for him. Please.”

  It was all Dirk could do to keep from laughing aloud. Did she really think he was going to do her any favors after the snotty way she had always treated him? Acting like he was dirt?

  He leaned closer, his voice warm with sympathy. “I’ll tell you what else I’m gonna do for you. I’m gonna leave you some light down here. I’ll find my way up in the dark, so’s you can keep the torch. That way, you won’t be scared.”

  Trying to sound as amicable as possible, Briana murmured, “Thank you.”

  Dirk smiled to himself as he turned to leave. He stared into the—ebony abyss. Lord, it’s spooky down here, he thought.

  Dirk had been only too happy to hire on with Mason and travel to France. He damn well didn’t want to be anywhere nearby if the Coltranes figured out what had happened. He also didn’t think Colt was going to go around for the rest of his life with his head in the sand, ashamed over bedding his sister—or a girl he thought was his sister. Sooner or later, he would go home, find out about the sale, and then all hell was going to break loose.

  Dirk didn’t figure on sticking around Mason for long, either, just long enough to get his hands on enough of that gold to live like a king.

  As he gave Briana a final look, he promised himself that she was one good reason to stay around Mason a while longer—her and the gold. Running his eyes up and down her body, he licked his lips.

  “Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you,” he said quietly. “That’s the way it works, you know.

  You don’t get somethin’ for nothin’ in this life, and you can’t expect me to stick my neck out for you unless you’re nice to me. Don’t you understand the way it works?”

  His hands snaked out to clutch her breasts and jerk her toward him, and in that moment his mouth clamped down on hers. She flung her head from side to side, nails digging frantically into his flesh. But she was no match for his strength.

  Briana knew sheer, absolute terror. Panic welled up, choking her. Was he going to kill her? Or only torture her? He was a madman; she knew that.

  She lifted her face upward to scream as loudly as she could. By some miracle, she might be heard. Someone would come.

  The torch flame licked hungrily as the air was whipped by her flailing arms. Bending toward Dirk, she reached over his shoulder for the conelike end of the torch and wrenched it from its holder.

  With all her strength, she brought the torch down and laid the flaming end against the side of his head. The acrid odor of burning hair filled the cellar as Dirk released her, screaming in agony.

  He slapped at his head, batting at the flames in his hair. The torch fell to the floor, and Briana backed away, out of his grasp, shaking uncontrollably as he ran, screaming, toward the stairway.

  In a moment, she was alone in that cold, silent crypt.

  Gavin sat in his room, waiting for Alaina. He knew she was furious, and he was braced for a storm.

  It wasn’t long before she pushed open the door and crossed the room, setting a tray on the bedside table so hard that the ga
sses of wine sloshed over, spilling burgundy stains on the carpet. “Ingrate!” she hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “Is this how you repay me for a life of luxury? Had I not taken you in, your kinfolk would have abandoned you to an orphanage. And this is how you repay me? By bringing a whore into our home? Did you really think I would tolerate such—”

  “Shut up, Alaina.” Gavin sighed, bored. He was exhausted from the endless journey, and he was also hungry and thirsty. But more than that, he needed time to think, to plan.

  He went to the tray and picked up one of the two glasses of wine, downing it in one gulp. He looked over the board of cheeses she had brought and sampled one, then cut a slice of another.

  Alaina stamped her foot. “Did you hear me, Gavin? That whore must leave. I will not have her under my roof.”

  Gavin looked up. Cool eyes flickered over her. She still had a nice body, and she was pleasing in bed. He felt a stirring of desire. She rarely protested his requests for bizarre acts and, all things considered, their love affair had satisfied him. But that was history. Was she so naive as to think their passion would last forever? That he would never desire a woman nearer his own age?

  He motioned for her to sit opposite him, but she shook her head curtly. He reached out and jerked her down into the seat. “How many times do I have to tell you I am tired? I don’t feel like listening to nagging.”

  Alaina lifted her chin defiantly, eyes cold.

  “Aren’t you even interested in hearing how wealthy we are?” he asked. “I was afraid to write you all the details, for fear my letter would fall into the wrong hands, but it was all quite…interesting. And successful. We have reason to celebrate.” He lifted his glass in salute, but she continued to regard him icily.

  With a sigh, he reached for the other glass of wine. “Very well. Pout if you wish. Surely you know,” he began, “that social position increases with great wealth. Can you imagine the loathing and revulsion there will be if anyone guesses our relationship? You will have to accept Delia as a cover.”