"The most notable event was a period when she was blazingly happy. It ended very suddenly, and after that she was wretched for a long time. I think she fell in love and it ended badly." Kit sighed. "She refused to discuss it, or even admit that there was a man, but she has never been quite the same since. She lost some of her sparkle."
"It must have hurt to be shut out," he said softly.
Kit didn't answer. In this instance, she wished that Lucien was a bit less sensitive. It had been hard to know that her twin was hurting; it had been even harder not to be allowed to help.
"We've been assuming that Kira's 'Lord Hellion' is the villain, but perhaps that's wrong," he continued. "Could this affair of Kira's be a factor?"
She thought about it, then shook her head. "I don't think so—it happened two or three years ago. Besides, my feeling was that he left her, not vice versa, so he's unlikely to kidnap her from unrequited passion."
"Did you notice any times when she was frightened?"
"Only when she was about to go on stage for a new show, and that kind of fear has a different flavor from fear for one's safety." Kit made a face. "I've learned stage fright well since I started performing in Kira's place."
"Do you enjoy acting? You do it magnificently, with the same ability to bewitch an audience that you say Kira has."
"That isn't my ability; it's borrowed from Kira." She pondered. "The applause is exciting, and I'm glad to have had the chance to experience it. It helps me understand Kira better. But to perform well, it's necessary to bare one's inner life, which I hate. I'm much happier behind the scenes."
"Obviously you were born to be a writer, just as Kira was born to be an actress." He brushed his knuckles tenderly under her chin. "Twins are even more interesting for their differences than for their similarities. If you think of anything else that could be relevant, make a note and tell me later. I might see something that you are too close to notice."
They lay together in silence for a little longer. Kit wondered sadly if they would ever be like this again. Finally, she sat up and swung her feet to the floor. "It's time for me to leave. Dawn can't be far away."
He sat up also, his face grave. "I find myself deeply reluctant to let you out of my sight."
"Not surprising, based on your experience." She stood and pulled her rumpled garments on. "But don't worry. You were right earlier—I need all of the help I can get, so I promise not to vanish again."
"Where is Kira's house?"
It was a test, and she met it without hesitation. "Number 7 Marshall Street. I divide my time between there and Jane's. I always stay at Kira's when I'm performing."
His face eased. "When I leave here, I have to make a quick trip to Ashdown, but I should be back in London late Tuesday."
"I'll be doing The Gypsy Lass again that night. Why not meet me in my dressing room afterward?" Her eyes twinkled. "This time I'll go to supper with you voluntarily. No kidnapping required."
"Kidnapping you was particularly inappropriate under the circumstances. No wonder you were furious." He regarded her thoughtfully. "Did you suspect me of being the one who had abducted your sister?"
"Not really. I knew that I should—the information about you was rather ominous—but I didn't really believe that someone who kept rescuing me from drunken Hellions was a villain." Her mouth quirked. "Besides, if you and Kira had met, you would have gotten on smashingly. No abduction would have been required."
"I'm glad to know that my sterling qualities shone through." He stood and began putting his own clothing on. "I'll see you Tuesday night unless the roads are especially bad. If I don't arrive within half an hour of the end of the play, assume that I was held up. I'll call at Kira's house the next morning." He chuckled. "Do you realize how seldom we have seen each other in daylight? It's like the courtship of two owls."
She cocked her head as she tied the ribbon of her crumpled domino. "Is this a courtship?"
"It must be, since soon we will be standing at the altar."
He crossed the room and reached for her. She sidestepped nervously. "I shouldn't kiss you, Lucien. As I said earlier, passion is too distracting."
He paused in midstep. "I thought the ban was on more intimate activities."
She blushed and looked away. "With you, even a kiss is enough to scramble my wits."
He sighed. "Flattering but frustrating. It's going to be very hard to be around you and not touch, kitten."
"I'm too tall and too serious to be a kitten."
"Nonsense." He grinned. "You're a very convenient size, and I think you're absolutely hilarious." Before she could protest the remark, he drew her into a hug. "Tonight is already a flat loss in terms of you keeping your sensory channels clear," he said into her hair. "Would another kiss be that much worse than what we've already done?"
He must have known that she could not resist him when he was so close. "Perhaps...," she said hesitantly, "a kiss will be all right." She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his. His mouth welcomed hers, warm and deep. He was the whole world, strong as the earth, and as essential. She clung to him, shaking, for long seconds after the kiss ended.
His own breath uneven, he said, "We will find Kira, and then you will marry me. Accept it, my dear tiger kitten, because we've gone too far to turn back." He kissed her again, this time lightly. "I look forward to the next time I can compromise you."
She smiled a little sadly as she emerged from his embrace. She wished she could believe they had a future together, but she couldn't.
* * *
No one saw them when Lucien escorted Kit through the silent house to an unobtrusive exit. She had insisted that she would be all right, but it was hard to let her go, and impossible to sleep when he returned to his room. Restlessness and yearning churned in his veins. Still, though the emotions were far from comfortable, they were a great improvement over the black melancholy that had followed intimacy in the past.
She filled his mind; maddening, quicksilver Kit, with her courage and loyalty, her wicked intelligence and her flowering sensuality. There was a tantalizing possibility that with her he might find the emotional intimacy that had been absent from his life since Elinor's death.
Such closeness wasn't there yet, and it might never be. Kit's first allegiance was to her twin, and dead or alive, Kira might stand permanently between Kit and himself. But at least there was hope. It would be worth marrying Kit for that, quite apart from marriage being the honorable thing to do.
It was going to be very hard to keep his hands off her while they searched for Kira.
He smiled into the darkness. Kit could not have found a better motivation for him to find her twin quickly.
Interlude
Worse than the fear, almost as dreadful as the degradation, was the boredom. Strange how even horror could become banal. Sometimes she thought she would go mad from isolation. She supposed that she should be grateful that her prison was so comfortable, but it was still a prison.
How long she had been locked in her lightless room? Weeks, certainly, perhaps months. It was hard to keep track of time. She yearned for the sight of the sun, or a rain-soaked sky.
Her only diversion was a small shelf of books, none of which she would have allowed in her home if she'd had a choice, but of choices she had none. The nauseating volumes had been essential at teaching her to understand something of her captor's perverse mind. She had also studied them religiously to glean ideas of what she might do to him. He thrived on novelty, and the day he became bored with her, she was a dead woman.
She was restlessly pacing around the sitting room when the hard-faced maid arrived. The massive armed guard who stood outside was briefly visible when the iron-bound door swung open. Knowledge of that guard was all that had kept her from making a desperate attempt to escape. She had not endured what she had to vainly throw her life away. If she waited, eventually a better opportunity would come.
The maid said, "He'll be here in an hour. He wants you to wear the furs."
Sh
e nodded wearily. Her captor was particularly fond of that costume. With the help of the maid, she donned the outfit. First a tight red satin garment that resembled an elaborate French corset. Then the inevitable black boots and lace stockings. Finally, a sable cape that swirled dramatically when she stalked about with her whip.
If... when... she escaped from this place, she would be happy to wear plain white muslin for the rest of her life.
She was adjusting her silver blond wig when the maid suddenly spat out, "You think you're safe because he likes what you do to him, but you'll see. In a fortnight you'll end up just like the others."
She spun on her heel and stared at the maid. "What 'others?' And what happened to them?"
The maid gave an ugly smile. "Do you think you're the first he brought here? As for what happens—you'll see, you filthy slut." The maid rapped on the door, and the guard let her out.
Her cold hands clamped about the handle of her whip. She had always known that there could be no good end to her captivity, but time was running out faster than she had realized.
A fortnight. Silently, she vowed that when the time came, she would not go tamely like a lamb to the slaughter.
Chapter 26
The Gypsy Lass went well even though nightmares had disturbed Kit's sleep again the night before. As she danced through her role, she wondered if Lucien had arrived early enough to be in the audience. She suspected that he was present because she felt that someone was watching her with more than usual intensity. She hoped he enjoyed the view of her tattoo.
The performance left her exhausted and drenched in sweat, so she bypassed the green room. Her dressing room was tiny, but all hers since she was now a lead attraction with the company. She removed her black wig, washed off her face paint, and changed from her costume into a dress of Kira's, which was more dashing than her own wardrobe. Though she dared not risk intimacy with Lucien again, she did want him to be tempted. She was discovering that prim Kathryn had a shameless streak.
She smiled as she brushed out her hair. The three days since she had seen him seemed like forever. Perhaps they couldn't touch—or at least, only a little—but it would be wonderful simply to be with him. In his presence it was possible to believe that all would be well.
Her musing was interrupted by a knock at the door. She leaped up from the dressing table. Lord, she was acting like a giddy girl! But Lucien wouldn't mind.
Her greeting died on her lips when she threw open the door. It wasn't Lucien. Instead, a tall, dark-haired man stood in the shadowed hall. Her first reaction was a sense of familiarity, but when she looked more closely, she realized that he was a complete stranger.
He wasn't the first admirer of Cassie James to find his way to her dressing room, and he wouldn't be the last.
She swallowed her disappointment and gave him a friendly smile, the way Kira would have. "Good evening. Did you enjoy the play?"
"Enjoy the play?" His mouth twisted. "I scarcely noticed it. All I saw was you." Without waiting for permission, he moved past her into the dressing room.
Obviously, he knew Kira well. In the brighter light Kit saw that his features were good, but he was thin to the point of gauntness, and a menacing scar curved from his temple into his overlong hair. He was poorly dressed, his garments ill-fitting and shabby, yet paradoxically he carried himself like a man of consequence. She tried to match his appearance to the brief descriptions that Cleo had given her, without success. Of course, Cleo couldn't know every man Kira had ever met.
Deciding that casual friendliness was the best approach, Kit said, "It's been a long time."
"It's been an eternity." He turned his palms upward. "You win, sweetheart. I surrender—foot, horse and cannon."
It was worse than she had feared, for clearly he had known Kira very well. When she hesitated, wondering about the best way to respond, he said with painful humor, "I know I look like something your cat left on the doorstep, but surely you haven't forgotten what you said the last time we saw each other. Perhaps you need a reminder."
Before she could guess his intention, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a crushing embrace. There was raw hunger in his kiss, and a possessiveness that was a little frightening.
She shoved him away, saying flippantly, "Don't rush your fences. As I said, it's been a long time. Tell me where you've been and what you've been doing." She retreated across the room, wondering how long it had been since the end of the performance and whether there was still a chance that Lucien might come. "Would you like a glass of sherry?"
He stared at her, feverish emotion in his brown eyes. "Don't you care that I risked my life to come here? You're acting as if this is a damned drawing room."
As Kathryn, she would have made soothing noises, but tonight she was Kira. She retorted, "And you're acting as if you own me. Well, you don't, and if you won't behave in a civilized manner, I'll have to ask you to leave."
A long moment of silence throbbed between them. Then he said softly, "So you want me to be civilized." He picked up the chair at her dressing table. She thought he was going to ask her politely to sit.
Instead, he raised the chair above his head, then smashed it viciously into the wall. Shards of wood flew in all directions, bouncing crazily and shattering her dressing mirror. "Sorry, Kira, but I'm in no mood to be civilized," he said, his voice all the more frightening for its restraint. "I would never have survived the last two years if I hadn't become a savage, and savagery is not something one can put aside like an old shirt."
She flattened her back against the wall, her heart pounding as she considered shouting for help. No, she would never be heard above the racket in the green room.
Then she caught her breath. He had endured savagery for two years....
The pieces snapped into place. This must be the man Kira had fallen in love with, which was why he had seemed familiar even though Kit had never met him. Perhaps he hadn't left her sister voluntarily, but had been sent to prison. His present fury made it easy to believe that he was a criminal, or perhaps mad. Either possibility would explain Kira's misery and refusal to discuss her heartbreak.
"I'm sorry for what you've had to endure," she said, trying to sound conciliatory. "Tell me about it."
"I didn't come here to talk about my bad luck," he growled. "I came here for you."
She hesitated. If her sister was in love with this man, Kit couldn't send him away. She must confess who she was and hope that he would honor her confidence. Perhaps he might even know something that would help in the search for Kira.
Too much time had passed while she thought. "You're trying to think of a tactful way to say that feelings change in two years, aren't you?" he said, anguish in his face. "Well, mine didn't, and they never will."
It was indecent to let this stranger bare his heart to the wrong woman. She raised her hand to cut off his words. "Please, don't say more. I'm not who you think I am."
Before she could say more, his expression changed. "No, you aren't," he said bitterly. "I thought you were loving and honest, even though you were an actress, but you're as much a whore as the rest of your breed. Very well, I'll treat you as one. I'm afraid I don't have the price of a night with me, but surely I have some credit left from the gifts I gave you before."
He trapped her against the wall and kissed her again, this time with punishing force. Though she fought him, his thinness disguised sinewy strength. His hips ground into hers, and he clamped his hand on her breast. She bit his tongue.
He jerked his head back and growled, "You little bitch!"
She tried to wrench herself away, but he caught her and pinned her to the wall. They stared at each other. In his burning eyes she saw the struggle between rage and reason.
With a harsh squeal the door swung open. Kit and her assailant both looked up to see a travel-stained Lucien. Summing up the situation instantly, he strode into the room, his eyes feral. "Let go of her now!"
"So this is why you're playing Miss Modesty!" the dark-
haired man exploded. "I taught you too well. I should have known that once you discovered the delights of fornication, you wouldn't be able to keep your legs together. How many lovers have you had in the last two years? Or have you lost count?"
Before she could answer, he released her and sprang across the small room to make a wild swing at Lucien. Kit cried out, but Lucien had already reacted. In one fluid motion he sidestepped the blow and smashed a hard fist into his assailant's jaw. The man made a gurgling sound and dropped like a felled ox.
Lucien stepped over him and gathered Kit close. "Did he hurt you?"
"N-not really." She buried her face against his shoulder, wishing he could touch every part of her at once. He smelled of mud and horse and safety.
Lucien kissed her forehead and stroked her back and shoulders, kneading the fear from her muscles. "Who is he?"
She gave a shaky laugh. "We never did get to introductions, but I think he must be the man Kira fell in love with several years ago. She would never have made him free of her nickname if she weren't serious."
Lucien studied the dark-haired man, whose temporary stupor was passing. "His manners need work."
"He was badly upset." She shivered. "But I'm very glad you arrived when you did."
The man sluggishly pushed himself to a sitting position. A bruise was rapidly forming on his jaw. "Go ahead," he said wearily. "Call the watch or the magistrate or whatever the hell you use for police in London. I really don't care."
Lucien looked at him narrowly. "From your accent, you must be American or Canadian."
"American." The stranger gave Kit a satiric glance. "Naturally, you're too clever to tell the current lover about the former ones."
"If you don't stop making insulting remarks to the lady, I'll break your jaw," Lucien said pleasantly. Releasing Kit, he reached down and hauled the other man upright. "Do you have anything to drink, Kit? I think this gentleman could use some refreshment."
She went to the cabinet that held the sherry. Trust Lucien to notice the subtly un-English accent. Thinking that he could also use something after his long journey, she poured two glasses and gave one to him and the other to the stranger, who was now sitting on the chaise, his head bowed. "Brace yourself," she said. "I'm not Kira, I'm her twin sister, Kit. Obviously she never mentioned me."
Dancing on the Wind Page 23