Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4

by Patricia Hagan

  Alaina blinked, and the extremely long lashes she had ordered from Paris wavered like tree limbs. “Cover?” she echoed. “That woman is a cover to keep people from knowing about us?”

  Gavin trailed his fingertips down her cheek, lying glibly. “Of course. My dear, you know you are the only woman I truly want, but society would shun us for our love. We must keep it a secret, especially now that I am well past the marriageable age.”

  Alaina frowned. “I don’t want her here. And don’t lie to me and tell me you aren’t sleeping with her, because I know you too well to be fooled. I’m not stupid, Gavin,” she added nastily. “And now that we have the money, we can go away together, really be together—the way we should be. Please, Gavin, just get rid of her.”

  He shook his head. “This is how it is going to be for the time being,” he said firmly.

  “People will think she is your fiancée,” Alaina hotly protested. “Maybe she is your fiancée. Maybe the two of you are plotting to take all the money and run away together, leaving me with nothing. Gavin, you can’t treat me this way.”

  She tried to stand up, but Gavin gave her a rough shove back into the chair, towering over her as he shouted, “Now, God damn it, for the last time, I’m warning you to shut up.”

  Their eyes met, held, blazing with anger and sudden resentment. It was the resentment that surprised them. Where did it come from?

  Alaina felt humiliated. Gavin could not love her anymore, she knew, not and treat her this way.

  For his part, Gavin was disgusted. Who did she think she was, that he would tie himself to her for the rest of her life? So what if he enjoyed her body? He enjoyed plenty of women’s bodies.

  They were all pleasing, he had found, if you just regarded them as what they were—pieces of flesh to be used at will. It was when they started making demands that they became, like Alaina, a liability.

  He did not like the accusing way she was looking at him, so he slapped her. That provoked harsh, broken sobs, and he got up to get a bottle of wine from his cabinet in the corner. When he returned, he told her, “Either shut up and listen to what I have to say, or I’m going to give you a beating that will put you in bed for weeks.”

  Alaina fell silent. He meant it, this abomination of a man who had returned to wreak misery on her.

  She nodded. He flashed a smile, sat down, and poured himself a glass of wine. He began talking, telling her how he had succeeded in bringing back the entire Coltrane fortune. Proudly he described every delicious detail, and, after a time, it was as though he was musing out loud, for the pleasure and adoration of his own ears and no one else’s. Alaina might as well not have been in the room.

  But she was in the room…and she was infuriated beyond belief by his love for himself. But worse was to come. He announced that he would be going to Greece soon. “I think it is best that Briana and I disappear for a while. We cannot arouse suspicion over our sudden windfall. Also, Travis Coltrane is in Paris, too close for me.”

  Alaina’s eyes grew wide and her heart began to hammer. Risking another blow, she dared ask, “What about me? What will I do while you’re away? And why Greece?”

  He reminded her of Count deBonnett’s relative who lived on the island of Santorini. “St. Clair left France, if I recall correctly, because he was wanted for a political crime. And when he left, he took the entire fortune of the local government with him. You remember your husband talking about him and his wealthy life in exile? Well, I do believe I will pay dear Cousin St. Clair an extended visit.”

  “He was a distant cousin,” Alaina informed him coldly. “He doesn’t even know you.”

  But Gavin was undaunted. “Money talks, my dear, and I have six guards with me, too. His kind of island isolation is exactly what I need for a time. I’m certain he’ll see it my way.

  “Now then,” he continued as he poured more wine, “I want us—you—to host a lavish dinner party as soon as possible. I want all the gossips invited because I want the word spread that I am leaving France to return to America to live. We will say that you have received some money from a distant relative, enough to pay all the Count’s creditors and give you a nest egg. I don’t want anyone to know where I’ve really gone. When the time is right, I will return to you and we will move away from here, make a life somewhere else—perhaps in Spain.

  “I cannot,” he concluded firmly, “live in constant dread that the Coltranes will come after their money. Maybe they’ll find out the truth about Dani.”

  Jealous apprehension having gotten its hooks into her, Alaina asked, “Are you taking that woman with you?”

  Gavin nodded. “And I’m taking Briana, too, of course. You will keep her brother here and tell people that she went with me as a maid to Delia. After a time, I will send word that Briana is dead, and then you can send her brother to an orphanage.”

  He gave her a benevolent look. Smart Gavin had figured everything out beautifully, as usual.

  But Alaina knew he was lying to her. He would never come back for her. She knew it.

  Suddenly the château exploded with screams.

  “What the—” Gavin and Alaina rushed to the door, and she flung it open in time to see Al, one of Gavin’s men, charging up the stairs, white-faced and shaken.

  “Where’s the boss? I gotta see him,” the man cried. Delia stepped out of her room, and Al nearly knocked her down as he rushed straight for Alaina.

  Gavin stepped out into the hail. “What the hell’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “Trouble,” Al gasped hoarsely. “It’s Hollister. The bitch in the cellar…she set fire to him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A man stood in the narrow, cobbled lane, staring up at the château. A farmer pulling a wooden cart passed him, glanced at him, and quickened his pace. The man’s eyes were narrowed to dark, malevolent slits, and his jaw was set grimly.

  “Want me to come with you?” his companion asked. For a moment Colt did not respond to Branch’s question. Then he said, “I’ll go alone.”

  Branch didn’t like that at all. The way Colt had been behaving was spooky. “I think I’d better come with you, old buddy. You’re liable to go berserk and kill somebody.”

  Colt gestured at him to stay where he was, and without another word, began walking slowly, warily, up the twisting lane that led to the imposing deBonnett château.

  Branch stared after him. It had been a long, hard journey, and things were sure to get harder from here on. They had sailed from Norfolk, Virginia, because they’d heard of a German vessel that would be leaving for Europe and was capable of achieving a much faster crossing of the Atlantic than the luxurious passenger liners that sailed from Boston and New York.

  Arriving in Southampton, England, they booked onto a smaller ship to cross the English Channel.

  From Calais, they went by train to Nice, then bought horses to get them to the southern coast of France, and Monaco.

  Branch was tired, for they’d had little rest since docking at Southampton. But he didn’t blame Colt for not wanting to stop. He knew that if he was in Colt’s boots, he’d be acting the same way.

  Colt lifted the heavy brass knocker, then slammed it against the thick wooden door several times. He waited a second, then knocked again.

  “All right, all right. I’m coming,” a woman’s voice called irritably in French. Once more, he was glad his mother had urged him to study the language. Otherwise, just getting to the château would have been much more difficult.

  The door swung open, and Colt found himself staring down into the face of a woman who had surely been lovely once. But had her eyes always been so cold? He wondered whether warmth or tenderness had ever shone within their green depths.

  Alaina’s hands gripped the doorframe as she swayed. The years peeled away. She swallowed hard, then, in a barely audible squeak, she gasped, “Travis.” Then she closed her eyes.

  Colt stepped back warily. Was this Dani’s aunt Alaina? His father had told him all about that
treacherous woman. “I’m his son,” he said quietly. “Colt.”

  Her eyes flashed open.

  “I said,” Colt repeated, “I am Travis Coltrane’s son, and I am here to see my sister, Dani. Where is she?”

  Alaina gaped. He was the image of his father: the same color, hair—so black it was almost blue when the sun caught it—and eyes the color of steel, with vague glimmers of gold.

  Her gaze moved downward, then up again. Yes, the same tantalizing body, too, as though all the gods had joined together to create the perfection of manhood.

  In a flash, she recalled that long-ago wonderful night in Kentucky when Travis Coltrane had made love to her and made her beg for more.

  She had left her own bed, after everyone else in the house was asleep, and had made her way quietly to the guest room where Travis was sleeping. She removed all her clothing and crawled naked into his bed before he even realized she was there.

  He had made love to her like no man ever had before—or since.

  The dreaminess left as quickly as it had come, and in its place appeared the taunting reminder that no man had ever spurned her as coldly as Travis Coltrane had done.

  He had also killed the man who had loved her truly: Stewart Mason.

  “Get off my property, you bastard! You no-good son of—”

  She raised her arm as though to strike him, but Colt grabbed her. He knew she despised his father. Wasn’t that essentially what had brought them all to this point? Alaina Barbeau interfering in their lives?

  Alaina struggled, but he held her. “I order you to leave,” she cried.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where to find my sister.”

  Alaina glared at him. Oh, why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to bring back all those warm memories of a love she had struggled so hard to forget? No woman who had ever been bedded by Travis Coltrane could ever forget him, no matter how brokenhearted he might have left her.

  Alaina was no exception.

  Alaina and Colt locked their gazes on each other. Colt’s was challenging. Alaina’s was passionate with remembered love and with hatred, the two emotions warring with each other.

  “Ma’am,” he said quietly, deciding that maybe humoring her would get him somewhere, “all I want is to see my sister. Would you call her, please?”

  Alaina looked thoughtful. It had been a terrible time. First, there was the fight with Gavin, because she had gone to his bed in the middle of the night and found it empty. He had said, when she saw him at breakfast that morning, that he had been doing some work on his ledgers in his study, but she knew he’d been with Delia. They’d fought about that, and over so much else. All they did any more these days was fight. Her life had been hell since his return, and the only thing that soothed her was vodka in the mornings and whiskey in the evenings.

  “Ma’am…?” Colt repeated.

  Alaina’s lips curved into a smile. He was truly just like his father, and it would be nice to talk to him, ask him how Travis was doing.

  She opened the door wider and bade Colt enter. “In there.” She nodded toward the parlor to the right of the marble foyer.

  As he walked through the foyer, Colt decided that the château wasn’t really any more elegant than the home his mother had furnished back in Nevada—the home, he reminded himself grimly, that was no longer his. “Where’s Dani?” he demanded. “I’m tired of waiting.”

  “She isn’t here,” Alaina said as they entered the parlor. She crossed to the bar and poured herself a glass of vodka and orange juice. She offered a drink to Colt, but he shook his head and went to stand near her. Unable to keep the fury from his voice any longer, he hissed, “The fun’s over. You know why I’m here. Now tell me where Dani is or I’ll turn this goddamn house upside down. Do you understand me?”

  She gave him a coquette’s smile. “I haven’t introduced myself, Colt. I am Alaina, the Countess—”

  “Yes, I knew that when I first saw you,” he interrupted.

  Alaina was glad she was wearing her green satin robe with the white lace around the high collar. It made her breasts look firmer than they actually were, because of the understitching in the bodice. She had also made up her face, knowing there would be a scene with Gavin and wanting to look good.

  She gazed at the man standing beside her. Oh, he was a sight to behold. Would he be every bit as good as his father?

  “I will give you one more chance to tell me where she is, and then I will start looking for her myself,” he told her.

  Alaina blinked. The young Coltrane was angry. Why? Oh, yes, it was coming back now. Goodness, it was hard to think when the vodka got to tickling around inside.

  “Dani isn’t here,” she told him coolly. It was the truth, and she looked at him levelly.

  “Where is she?”

  Alaina shrugged. “She and Gavin returned to France from America last week, but she stayed in Paris while Gavin came back here.”

  “Where can I reach her in Paris?”

  Alaina shrugged. “I don’t know.” She did not like all these questions because she didn’t know what she was supposed to say.

  Colt persisted. “Then where can I find Gavin?”

  Alaina reached for the vodka, and -poured another drink. “I don’t know that, either,” she said.

  “I will be back.” Colt turned and walked out of the room and out of the château. He strode down the path, his thoughts racing. He could have torn the house apart looking for Dani or Gavin, but he sensed, somehow, that neither was there.

  Alaina lifted her head from the pillow, groaning as the thudding, throbbing pain in her temples assailed her.

  She heard the sound of voices, not far away. Where was she?

  She remembered coming upstairs, determined to have a discussion with Gavin. She was not going to be relegated to second place by his homely whore. She would have a nice bottle of champagne ready, and when he came into his room, they would drink it, and talk. She would make him realize he couldn’t do without her. They would make love. When he was satiated, she would help him figure out a way to get rid of Delia. Everything would be as it had been before he’d gone to America. Oh, she would allow him his indiscretions. She was sophisticated. She knew that men strayed. But she would always be the one he returned to.

  Alaina blinked. She was in the little dressing room off Gavin’s bedroom, the tiny chamber where he took his baths in the ornate porcelain tub. There was also a dressing table, where he kept his bottles of expensive colognes and talcs alongside his shaving things. Seeing her reflection in the large wall mirror, Alaina realized that she had fallen asleep on the gold brocade divan.

  “She’s nothing but a baggy-faced old alcoholic, and I don’t know what you ever saw in her.”

  That was Delia’s voice, and she was just on the other side of the green velvet curtain that separated the dressing alcove from the bedroom.

  “Oh, why look for trouble, Delia?”

  Gavin sounded annoyed.

  “Trouble?” Delia screeched. “You told me you lived with your adoptive aunt. You did not tell me you’d been screwing her since you were fourteen years old, for chrissake. You didn’t tell me she thinks she owns you. If I’d known about this, I wouldn’t have come.”

  Gavin’s response was to laugh brittlely and say, “Oh, yes, you would have, my dear, because you knew I was going to be a wealthy man. That’s why you’ve hung on, why you came with me over here, and that is why you will stay. So why don’t you just shut your nagging mouth and take your clothes off?”

  “Listen, Gavin,” Delia snapped, “you can’t have your way with me any time you feel like it. I’m not in the mood.”

  He sighed. “I told you, my dear, we are leaving for Greece soon. You will love it there. You will live like the princess you are, and you will be happy.”

  “And your old hag? What about her?”

  He laughed, a nasty sound that made Alaina cringe with humiliation. Old hag? Was she an old hag? “Soo
ner or later, she’ll realize we aren’t coming back. By then we’ll be living in Spain or Portugal, maybe have mansions in both! Would you like that?”

  There was silence, and Alaina knew they were kissing.

  She rose slowly, heart pounding. She didn’t want to stay and listen to their lovemaking.

  She crept out into the hallway, her heart shriveling with self-loathing. Old hag. She would never forget those words.

  She moved toward her room, her fighting nature coming to the fore. Humiliated she was, and she hurt badly. But, by God, she wasn’t going to lie down and die.

  When she reached her room, she closed and locked the door as a plan began to form. She would find a way to revenge herself on Gavin, and that way would involve, of all people, Travis Coltrane’s son.

  Alaina pressed her fingertips against her temples. Her head hurt terribly, but she smiled despite the pain. Vengeance was going to be oh so sweet…as sweet as being made love to by Travis Coltrane.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Colt and Branch had found a small hotel on a side street and procured two rooms. Colt went to his room without a word, and Branch didn’t press him for an explanation of what had happened at the deBonnett château.

  Branch took a change of clothes and went to the chamber at the end of the hallway for the luxury of a hot bath. Water was brought to him in large ceramic jugs by a blushing, smiling French maid. Branch promised himself he would seek her out later.

  After a much-needed shave and then a hearty meal downstairs, Branch entered the small room at the rear of the hotel lobby which served as a saloon. He was not at all surprised to see a familiar figure in the smoky shadows, leaning against the bar.

  “So, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to have a drink?” Branch greeted Colt as he stepped up beside him, signaling to the bartender.