Come the Dawn

by Christina Skye

  “It was true, when I was first wounded. Later…I had to do it, India. It was the only way I could—”

  She spun about, her hands clenched. “How do you do it? How do you lie so easily? How do you twist the truth again and again to suit your ends?”

  “They’re not my ends, India, they’re England’s. This is for the benefit of you and me and every man who died bloody and blind at Waterloo. It’s for the good of every child who hopes to have a free and decent life on English soil.”

  “Very fine words, Devlyn. But for me it’s a far simpler issue. All I see is one man who has lied to me and betrayed me, in spite of the fact that I loved him so much that I—”

  She spun away, biting back a sob.

  Thorne strode to pull her against him. His hands slid deep into her hair. “You gave me your heart. You gave me your trust. It was a treasure I didn’t deserve.” Slowly his chin fell until it rested on the crown of her head. “But things were different before Waterloo, and I was a different man, India. That wasn’t a lie. I can never go back to being what I was. Just as you were changed by the horrors you saw after the battle, so was I. And I must see that Napoleon never has a chance to inflict those horrors again.”

  “What about us?”

  His hands tightened, and his breath slid out in a bitter sigh. “I loved you then. You must believe that.”

  “And … I loved you. Without limit or reason. But we are both older, Dev. What will happen now?”

  His hands tightened. “I have three children to protect and I’ve made a bloody mull of it so far, as you’ve pointed out too clearly. In the few days they’ve known you, I think those three have come to care for you far more than they will ever care for me. That says a great deal about your heart.”

  “That’s not true! Andrew worships you, and Marianne hangs breathless for a single word of praise. And Alexis? Sometimes I think that child is the wisest person I know,” India finished softly.

  “Strange, but I’ve felt the same. It’s as if she can look right through you and see your deepest thoughts. But today I nearly landed flat on my back on that deck and my shoulder is — well, not in prime shape. That nearly lost us both our lives.” He sighed. “What I’m saying is that we can’t go back. Or maybe I’m finding it is harder to be friends than to be lovers. But I want that. I’m jealous whenever you laugh with Monkton or Pendleworth — and especially with that arrogant snake Connor MacKinnon.”

  India turned slowly, a gleam in her eye. “Connor? You’re jealous of him?”

  “I wanted to tear out his fingers joint by joint when he helped you into your carriage. And when I see you look up at him, slanting your head and giving him the sunny smile that twists my heart…” His fingers tightened in her hair. Slowly he drew her head backward. “I want that too. It’s damnably greedy of me, but I want all the fire and madness we had in Brussels. I also want the trust.” His voice fell. “I want everything from you, India. You’ve made me like this. Blind and greedy. Wild with hunger.” His eyes burned over her slender body, outlined clearly in the damp cambric shirt. He pulled her closer, feeling her heart pound against his chest. “Well?”

  Silence.

  “Are you going to answer me sometime in this century, or is this your way of repaying me for all my treachery?”

  “I’m thinking.” India’s hand stole up to his cheek. Her finger traced the outline of his ear. As she eased closer, a shudder ran through him.

  Her eyes narrowed. “How could I be certain you wouldn’t lie to me again? Because that’s my condition, Dev. No more lies. No more holding back. That’s the Delamere way. It’s also my way.”

  Devlyn Carlisle took a deep breath and held her tightly, savoring the warmth of her breath and the slide of her body against his.

  Maybe, in the end, this was what coming home was all about. She was fire and laughter in his arms. No other woman could hold a candle to her. And Devlyn refused to give her up. Wellington could go to the devil first. “I will tell you what I can. But there are other people involved, India, and you will have to accept that. This mission is of crucial importance.” He frowned suddenly. “Speaking of deceptions, what about you? You left a calling card as broad as Regent’s Park when you showed that diamond all over London.”

  “Since you wouldn’t tell me about your enemies, I had to find out myself. You needed help and you would not ask for it. It was the most logical thing to do.”

  He shook his head, at a loss for words. “You are entirely impossible, you know. Stubborn, reckless, and with no sense of fear. You’ll make a most unbiddable sort of wife.” His hands drew her closer against him, and he savored her instant softening. “But the damnable thing is I begin to like the idea. In fact, I’m starting to find it the most natural thing in the world.” He sighed. “And since we’re about plain speaking, there’s something else I had better tell you.”

  Her hands traced the scar at his jaw. “Later. It’s time we tried different ways of talking, Dev. The kind of talking you mentioned earlier. Kiss me.” Her hands moved upward into his hair.

  Fire filled Devlyn’s eyes. “Don’t tempt me, woman. It’s been too bloody long. For months, I’ve dreamed of nothing else. No matter where I was or what I did, there was always the thought of you, the memories hot and sweet. But we were lovers once and that wasn’t enough. This time it will be different. I want all of you. We’ll have the passion along with an equal measure of trust.” He smiled wryly. “Although how I can manage to keep my hands off you for more than five minutes at a time is impossible to contemplate.”

  “I don’t mean to make it easy for you,” India said softly. “I remember too, Dev. I have the same memories to torment me.” Her hand rose, stretched toward him. She waited, breathless.

  Slowly he slid his fingers into hers and locked their hands tight. “How much I love you,” he said hoarsely.

  Her face slanted up to his. The taste of her mouth was sunlight itself, heating his blood. Dev felt his pulse quicken when her tongue brushed his. Reckless, he leaned down and kissed his way along her neck. Across the curve of her creamy breast.

  “India, my love.” He gripped the cambric of her shirt and slid it free, hearing her husky sigh. Her warm skin filled his hand, and Dev as if the shadows of war had finally been swept from him, burned away by the heat of her body.

  Then he stopped.

  A horse whinnied. Footsteps pounded along the slope outside the hut.

  Someone hammered at the door. “Thorne? Damn it, are you in there?”

  Dev cursed sharply and pulled India’s shirt into place. “I was going to tell you, but…” He strode to the door and threw it open. India stood staring at the man outside, a man with dark hair and an angular jaw.

  A man with her husband’s face.

  She was looking at Devlyn Carlisle — or what looked like Devlyn Carlisle.

  “Meet James Herrington, my love. That’s the other thing I was trying to tell you.”

  India looked from one man to the other, shock in her face. “But he — that is, he looks just like—”

  “That’s the general idea,” Thorne said dryly. He waved Herrington inside. “But why have you come? I told you never to come to this hideaway except in an emergency.”

  “I fear the worst.” Herrington swallowed. “It’s — it’s Alexis. She’s been kidnapped.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Devlyn swayed, almost as if an invisible hand had struck him. “She’s been what?”

  “The other two children are safe, but I-I lost Alexis. We had just come out of a hackney and she’d forgotten that wretched doll of hers. She ran back to the carriage before I knew it and—” Herrington looked away and ran a hand through his hair.

  “And she never came out,” Devlyn finished harshly. “It’s an old trick. Another coach was waiting on the other side.” He moved awkwardly across the room, as if his legs would not work properly, then sank down on one of the grain sacks. “Dear God, Alexis.” His head fell to his hands. “Alexis,
sweet Alexis.” Then his fists tightened and he looked up again, his face hard with fury. “Has there been a note of ransom yet?”

  India gasped. “But surely you don’t expect—”

  “On the contrary, it is exactly what I expect,” Dev said flatly. “They couldn’t get you, so they chose the easiest alternative. A helpless, innocent girl of six.” He pushed to his feet and grabbed awkwardly for his shirt, the movement showing how much his shoulder still pained him. As he did, India fetched a jug of water and doused the fire.

  “What are you doing?” Dev said sharply.

  “I’m coming with you, of course.”

  For a moment he looked as if he would argue. His shoulders tensed, each muscle flexed. Then he nodded curtly, jamming the buttons of his shirt closed. “I won’t lie and say I can’t use you. You’ll be a treasure. And they will be expecting that diamond to be on you.”

  India reached into her boot and held out the blush-pink jewel. “Take it,” she said. “I never wanted it, nor was meant to have it. If it will help Alexis in any way, then of course you must have it.”

  Devlyn’s fingers closed over the cold, hard facets. For a moment their hands met and his fingers twined through hers, locking the stone between them. Slowly it picked up the heat of their bodies and cast it back between them. “Thank you for offering so freely. And thank you for being exactly the person you are.” He gripped her hands between his. “I won’t lose you again.”

  But there was no time to say more. Their questions would hang and their future linger unresolved. A far greater question loomed.

  A child’s fate was caught in the hands of madmen.

  ~ ~ ~

  After a quick word with Perkins, Devlyn re-emerged from the Gypsy with Froggett in tow. The old man looked as confused as he was happy to be freed from the vessel.

  He scowled at India. “What’s amiss, Jeremiah?”

  “There’s no need for the deception, Froggett.” Thornwood strode past him and down the pier toward the shore. “I know everything about your mistress’s wild masquerade, just as she knows about my own. But there’s no time for explanations now. A child has been kidnapped and I fear it will require all our skills to see her freed.” He looked at Herrington. “Where are the other children?”

  “The Duchess of Cranford collected them and took them off to her estate in Norfolk. She insisted it would be the safest place for them until Alexis was found.”

  “She’s probably right,” Devlyn said grimly. “It appears that I cannot keep them safe in London.”

  “What do we do now?” Herrington was white, his face a mask of guilt and unhappiness.

  “We return to London. And then we wait. Have you brought a carriage? Lady India will require—”

  “Lady India will require no more than what she had when she came. Hannibal will carry me back. We’ll make far better time that way.”

  After a moment Devlyn nodded. “As usual you’re right. I only wish we’d had you with us at Waterloo.” But the brief warmth left his eyes almost as quickly as it had come. When the great white gelding was brought around from the snug stables in the village, Thornwood’s face was bleak and lined once more.

  ~ ~ ~

  For India the ride to London was a nightmare. The four riders pressed their mounts and made excellent time, stopping only once at a small inn just outside Tottenham. The sky was streaked with red and purple clouds when they finally turned into the bustling thoroughfares near Belgrave Square. Though India ached to ponder the revelations of the last hours, all her thoughts were fixed on the innocent child caught in a web of danger.

  As soon as they entered the mews, Dev jumped down and tossed his reins to a waiting groom. India knew he was praying for a message from Alexis’s captors.

  He strode through the little garden and up the back steps to the house. “The longer we wait, the less likely it becomes that…” He stopped. His eyes held the blind pain of a wounded animal.

  India yearned to touch him and comfort him, but she knew it was beyond her power. Only bringing Alexis home would drive that look from Thorne’s eyes. And if they failed, if it was already too late…

  She refused to consider the possibility.

  ~ ~ ~

  The place where she was lying was dark and cold. Somewhere over her head water dripped, loud and incessant. There were no voices, no footsteps, nothing but the water to keep her company.

  And Alexis was frightened, terribly frightened.

  ~ ~ ~

  At six o’clock that night everyone clustered in Thorne’s study. Grim-faced, Chilton told them there had still been no messages. He had stayed by the front door every second since the child had been taken.

  Devlyn’s jaw hardened at the news. He moved awkwardly from the room, almost like a man reeling under a killing blow. When he returned ten minutes later, his beard was gone and he was dressed in fresh clothes. The horror still hung about his eyes, but now there was a granite resolve in his stride.

  “I’ve some messages to send. This hand is far from played, as these brutes will soon discover.” He looked at India. “Meanwhile, you’d better get some rest. You look exhausted. If they’re after the diamond, they might demand your presence, since you were last seen with the stone.”

  India nodded numbly and turned away, wishing she had never seen the cursed gem. Then she felt Thorne’s hands on her shoulders. “And don’t take a stubborn notion into your head that you are to blame, for you aren’t. It’s my own fault, every bloody bit of it. If not the diamond, it would have been over something else, for I’ve no doubt that they have watched my house ever since I set foot in London. That’s why having Herrington here was so valuable, allowing me the liberty to come and go at will.” His fingers covered India’s pale cheek. “Chilton will take you up. Never fear, I’ll call you as soon as we have any news.”

  India gently combed back the dark lock of hair that had fallen over his brow. “You’re so different. You didn’t come back home from Waterloo, not as the same man. And even if you had, I wouldn’t have been here to meet you because I’m no longer the same woman. But I pray that we’re stronger now, because that strength must somehow help us save Alexis.”

  “Believe it.” Thorne’s fingers locked around hers, pressing tightly. “Never, never stop believing it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  At nine o’clock the three men were still scouring London in search of anyone who had seen a girl of Alexis’s description. India rested fitfully upstairs, while Chilton manned the front door and two grooms guarded the mews.

  But no message of any sort came from Alexis’s captors.

  Herrington and Froggett returned, weary and unsmiling. They took a meal of cold meat and very strong tea served by Chilton in grim silence.

  When India came downstairs, some of the pallor had left her cheeks, but the lines of worry remained. She read all too clearly from the men’s faces that there had been no word about the girl.

  At the last stroke of eleven the front door was thrown open and a hard step echoed through the hall. A tall figure with a hooked nose appeared in the door of Thornwood’s study. “What’s this I hear about the child being kidnapped?” the Duke of Wellington demanded as he strode into the room. “It’s a barbaric act, that’s what it is! We shall run those wolves to ground, I make you my solemn vow on that.” He shrugged off his greatcoat and tossed it to the man behind him. “I’ll need those papers, Stevens. Both sets, including the maps.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” His secretary immediately produced a thick sheaf of documents from a leather satchel.

  “Excellent. Now, Thorne, tell me what you’ve discovered so far.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Alexis shivered.

  She looked around her at the darkness, fighting to keep from crying. In her hands she felt the old doll that she had carried through half of Europe and on to England after the horrors of Brussels.

  It was her only companion now, except for the dripping water and the occasional noises in t
he darkness. She waited, her thin body shivering, drawn up into a tight ball in the darkness.

  But as the hours crept past, she found she was no longer alone. There were drifting shapes all around her. Tall, bright figures with comforting smiles. Alexis had seen them before, when loneliness and fear threatened to overcome her.

  Now the bright shapes drew close and ringed her in the darkness, a determined army who would keep her from harm.

  Or so Alexis thought, half dreaming with the old doll clutched in her fingers. And then she grew aware of another figure beside her, a smiling boy whose eyes glinted, full of happiness as he looked at her.

  And Alexis knew this was the child she had seen near India.

  Anyone else would have thought him merely a trick of the imagination, a phantom summoned up by an unhappy mind, but to Alexis the images were as real as the cold ground beneath her. And they gave her a world of hope.

  When the door to her dark room rattled and squeaked open, she was ready and did not flinch. She already knew who her visitor would be.

  He strode through the shadows, a single candle in his hand. His face was the face the girl had seen so often in her dreams, a garish mask with a long pointed nose, and of course the jagged scar along one cheek. Alexis had seen a mask like this before, worn by the wandering street players in Europe. But the man who wore it now was deadly serious, she knew.

  Around him in the darkness Alexis began to see faint tendrils of movement, the cold twisting shapes of people.

  Gray people.

  People who had died.

  As they coiled around his chest, their fingers jabbing at his eyes and clutching at his throat, Alexis knew that these were people this man had killed; like angry shadows, they circled, waiting for him in death.

  She shrank back, horrified. As she did, cold laughter filled the empty room.

  “So you begin to show some fear? It is good, silly girl.” His voice hardened. “Where is India Delamere?”