Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  But he was also one of the most well-trained fighters Bryan had ever seen, even taking lives when it was necessary without batting an eye. He'd joined one of Bryan's companies without needing training, and Bryan had never asked where he'd learned his deadly skills. He'd meant to promote Jeff to the position of company commander, but when they'd spoken during the interview Bryan had found him uninterested. Business matters were what interested Jeff, but no one had been willing to give him a chance with them.

  Bryan gave him that chance, but not as just his secretary. Jeff was learning every aspect of the business, and sometime in the next year or so would open a company office in the colonies. Bryan and his partner Jamie had agreed that Jeff was the best one for the job, someone they'd never thought they'd find. Jeff was absolutely trustworthy, and would probably end up becoming a partner.

  "Bryan, I'm sorry I wasn't here yesterday to welcome you back," Jeff said as soon as he walked in, offering his hand. "I was entangled in personal business, and didn't get back until very late."

  "I won't ask her name," Bryan said with a grin, standing to shake hands. "I stopped trying to keep track of your 'personal business' when I first found out how complicated it was. The question is, do you know her name?"

  "I always know the names," Jeff answered with a grin that almost reached his pale-blue eyes. "The only problem is, I haven't yet found one I want to remember. I understand you can no longer say the same, and are now due congratulations. I wish you all the happiness possible, and if you think it's best, I'll stay out of her sight."

  Bryan felt the urge to frown as Jeff sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. A stranger would have thought from that comment that there was something wrong with the way Jeff looked. The man was dressed casually for their conference in a plain, off-white cotton shirt and brown breeches, off-white hose and buckleless shoes, his blond hair tied back with brown ribbon. He wasn't quite Bryan's size, but few men were.

  In point of fact Bryan knew the man was considered handsome, and tended to attract a large number of ladies. Some, however, felt frightened by him, and actually hurried from a room if he happened to enter. It was almost as though they knew exactly how deadly he was, just from the took in his pale, cool eyes, and imagined they might be in danger from him. Which was completely ridiculous, of course. The tall blond man was a gentleman and honorable; no woman would ever have anything to fear from him.

  "I wouldn't worry about staying out of my wife's sight," Bryan said after a moment. "She might be the least bit annoyed with me today, and if she is you'll be better off staying out of her line of fire. Jack brought a lead yesterday which I tried to follow up last night, and there was more than a little trouble."

  Jeff asked for the story, so once again Bryan went through it. This time, though, he also went into detail about the man he'd killed, knowing Jeff could handle it all much better than Jack. Jeff nodded when the narrative was over, and then he smiled.

  "She attacked an armed man using nothing but a torch?" he asked, apparently really amused. "You may be right about my not needing to keep out of her sight, but this time I might want to. How good a shot is she?"

  "It's not funny, Jeff," Bryan growled, back to being more than annoyed. "She's better with a sword than half the recruits we get, but she will not be having anything to do with pistols. I'm having a hard enough time keeping her safe now. If she ever had a pistol to rely on - I don't even want to think about it. And speaking about keeping her safe, I don't want both of us out of this house at the same time. There's an excellent chance someone will come after her."

  Jeff's brows rose at that, but on this point he didn't ask any questions. Again Bryan hesitated, then he told Jeff everything of the story so far, explaining why the quarry would want the girl dead. Jeff would be much more effective if he knew what was happening.

  "Yes, she's definitely the prime target," Jeff agreed when he'd heard it all. "I'll be sure to keep my eyes wide open. The poor thing must be frightened half to death."

  "'The poor thing' doesn't think much of anyone's chances of taking her," Bryan countered flatly. "I could see that opinion on her face while we were having words last night. She's convinced she'll be able to avenge herself when she and the quarry meet again, so she's actually looking forward to it. One of the things you have to watch out for is the chance she'll take off alone to look for him."

  "How did you ever find a woman like that?" Jeff blurted. "The only ones I ever meet are too delicate to even breathe the air the rest of us do. They'd faint if someone frowned in their direction, but this girl…"

  He let the rest of it trail off, and Bryan knew he wasn't expecting his question to be answered. He'd voiced what Bryan himself used to feel before meeting Rianne Lockwood, a woman who put all the shrinking violets he usually met to shame. And all too soon she would be out of his life again…

  "We'd better get to work," Bryan said, finding his coffee cold but drinking it anyway. "I have a couple of errands I need you to do for me this morning, and you have to be back by this afternoon so I can go out. My father has a good friend at the Bank of England, and I need to ask him a favor. I've always thought of the Bank as the grand lady of the Empire who knows the secrets of all men who come in contact with her. Right now I need access to some of the lady's secrets, and my father's friend can help. If I can talk him into cooperating, which might take some doing. We'll get this work and your errands out of the way, and then I'll try."

  Jeff nodded and leaned forward, and they began to go over business matters. There wasn't that much to be covered, not with the way Jeff ran things, but what was there needed Bryan's touch. When everything was done and Jeff had his instructions, the two parted. Bryan had just enough time to realize how much he would miss having Jeff around when the other man left for the colonies, and then Harris was at the door, announcing the arrival of a visitor.

  "There's a - person - here to see you, sir," Harris said from the doorway. "He insists he's expected, but refuses to give me either a card or a name. Shall I ask Mr. Banyon to put him out?"

  "Mr. Banyon is on the way out himself, so we won't bother him," Bryan answered without showing the amusement he felt. "I am expecting someone, so why don't you show the gentleman in."

  "Yes, sir," Harris responded immediately, making no effort to disagree with the word "gentleman." "Shall I have tea brought in, sir?"

  "Please," Bryan agreed with a nod, then had to work at not laughing aloud. Robert Creighton, dressed like someone off the streets of West End, shuffled into the room past a silently suffering Harris. Robert was rumpled and slightly stooped, thoroughly wet from the rain, and altogether an unappetizing sight. He'd obviously taken Bryan's cautions to heart; at the moment, no one but his own mother would have recognized him.

  "All right, fellow, come and sit down," Bryan ordered, playing the game. "And do try not to drip on my rugs, they're worth ten of your sort."

  Robert waited until Harris had closed the door, and then he straightened up to give Bryan a reproving look.

  "Really, old son, they couldn't possibly be worth more than five of me," he said, then grinned like a boy. "Even if nothing comes of this, it will still be the most fun I've had in ages. And I'm able to state positively that no one followed me here. Having the weather conspire with us has helped enormously."

  "Then let's not waste that help," Bryan said, watching him sit in the chair Jeff had used. "I've been thinking about what you told me, and I'm afraid it almost has to be one of your associates who's responsible for the trouble you and your father's friends have had with your shipments."

  "Why do you say that?" Robert asked, no longer amused. "Have you any idea how long my father and those men were friends? I can't believe one of them would betray the others like that."

  "Most men will do anything they have to in order to survive," Bryan answered, trying to be compassionate. "Haven't you asked yourself why only two of the four quarterly shipments were stolen? Why not all four?"

  Before Ro
bert could answer, a knock came at the door. It was Harris and one of the housegirls with a tea tray. They waited in silence until each of them had a freshly poured cup and the servants were gone, and then Robert sighed.

  "No, I have to admit it hadn't occurred to me to wonder," he said. "I assumed they weren't able to take all four shipments, not that they chose not to. That's what you're suggesting, isn't it? That they chose not to?"

  "Exactly." Bryan nodded. "It probably wasn't the head thief's idea but the insistence of whoever was selling him the information on the shipments. An uncaring employee would have sold out all four shipments. Only someone more personally involved would try to keep everyone else from being ruined. He must have become involved because he needed the money, or possibly he was caught in a compromising position and thereafter was forced to cooperate. I'll need a list of the four partners involved in the joint shipping."

  Robert wasn't happy, but he supplied the required list. As Bryan wrote down each of the names, he realized that if he didn't know the man personally, he at least knew of him. And a disturbing thought came, one that kept his attention until Robert cleared his throat.

  "I meant to tell you this sooner, old son, but the memory of it escaped me until now," Robert apologized. "That row last night with those two interlopers… Someone will be coming by after lunch for your statement. No one understands why those two chose Alicia's party to stage their production, but they're fairly certain none of us is involved. And Alicia, of course, was livid. Her invitations, from now on, will include the name of the guest invited, and that list has been cut quite a bit. She'll no longer be able to throw parties on the spur of the moment, but at least she'll know who'll be at them. Much of that is a direct quote."

  "I'm not surprised," Bryan said with a faint smile. "When she began to send out invitations without the guests' names, people were impressed with her daring. No one did that, they said, so of course Alicia had to. She considered it young and reckless, but in point of fact it was foolish. Something like last night was bound to happen sooner or later."

  "But at least now she's learned her lesson," Robert agreed. "If anyone wants to bring someone not already of the group, they'll have to clear it with her first. I think I'm relieved that I won't have to go through that. There aren't such stringent restrictions for a ball at the palace."

  "The pendulum has swung to the other extreme," Bryan pronounced, just as glad he had no immediate intentions of going back. "Let's talk about the information you'll need to get for me, and how you should go about getting it. We'll also have to find a place to meet regularly and quietly, at least until we identify the guilty party. Afterward, I may have some suggestions on routine precautions for the shipments. If not, I won't bill you for that part of the consultation."

  "Damned big of you, old son," Robert returned dryly, making Bryan grin. "Ah, well, not to worry. When we find the culprit, we'll let him pay all your fees. Probably stagger the chap so badly, he'll never leave the straight and narrow again. Let me have another cup of tea, and then you can tell me what you need."

  Bryan poured for the both of them, then went through his requirements. Robert counted off the covered points to be sure he had them all, promised to find a private place for them to meet, then rose to take his leave. Bryan had the stumbling ne'er-do-well use a side door rather than the front as he had when he'd come. It had never occurred to Robert to use the tradesman's entrance…

  Once Robert was out the door, Bryan noticed that it was almost lunchtime. That meant it was also time for the talk he'd decided to have with Rianne. Another, more foolish man might have hoped she wouldn't be angry, but Bryan knew better. Her temper would never let what had happened the night before pass without something in the way of reaction, and he couldn't wait to see what it would be. After all, he was the one addicted to danger and cataclysm, wasn't he?

  Bryan sighed, then started slowly up the stairs. Of course he couldn't wait to see what she had in store for him… Not longer, certainly, than the end of the century… Next century…

  Rianne stood by an open terrace door, looking out at the drearily falling rain. It had been doing that ever since she'd awakened, which was why she'd changed into a velvet and silk day gown. All morning she'd felt chilly in muslin and lace, at least on the outside…

  Inside she'd been just as furious as she was right now, which would have been enough to send her former suitors scurrying in all directions. When she'd awakened Machlin was gone, but the memory of his infuriating behavior was right there and waiting to kindle the blaze. How dare he treat her like someone who could be kept in the dark whenever he cared to do it? Whatever he meant to do concerned her, and she had a right to know about it!

  Her hand closed into a fist on the sheer white cloth of the curtain, an anchor to keep her from starting to pace again. She'd paced out every step of her rooms that morning, not once but over and over. She'd tried to tell herself it was anger making her do that, but far beyond the anger was a memory of how she'd felt last night in Machlin's arms.

  She loved a man who didn't love her, but some small, stubborn part of her mind discounted that. It gloried in what she felt when her husband touched her and she touched him, ignoring everything but that. That part of her didn't want to acknowledge her husband's lack of love, but it didn't matter. The rest of her had wearily given up on the idea of ever being loved, knowing it for the child's dream it was.

  And that left her free to hate Machlin the way she should. The man was as stubborn as he was oversized, as impossible to talk to as he was to reason with. It added to her fury that she had to obey him, even when she didn't want to. If he ever decided to send her somewhere "safe," she would have no way to refuse.

  But at least he couldn't chance sending her back to the country. The enemy would find her too easily there, although it wasn't likely he would come after her himself. Or maybe he would, just as he'd done so many years ago. He would still be thinking of her as a helpless child, and that would be her most powerful weapon against him…

  "Does this open door mean callers are welcome?" a deep voice asked, one she had no trouble recognizing. "And today you're wearing brown and gold. Is there a color you don't look good in?"

  Rianne had to forcibly keep herself from turning, at the same time silently cursing the distraction that had made her forget to close the door. She hadn't closed any of the doors she'd paced through, hadn't even noticed she'd had to open them. She was really tempted to answer the question Machlin had asked and say he wasn't welcome, but that wasn't part of what she'd decided. She would have nothing to say to the man until he told her exactly what she wanted to know.

  "The chill in here is sharper than even the weather calls for," he commented, his footsteps bringing him closer. He must have been hoping she would comment in return, and when she didn't, he sighed.

  "I want you to believe that we will get our common enemy," he said, now directly behind her on the right. "You don't have to risk your life to make it happen, or sneak around trying to do it yourself. I'm here to do it with you, and together we'll make him pay what he owes."

  Sneak around! Rianne drew herself up at those words, angry all over again. How dare he accuse her of sneaking, when everything she'd done had been completely out in the open! She could see that the explanation she wanted would be some time in coming, but that didn't change anything. She was more than prepared to wait.

  "You still aren't saying anything," he observed cleverly, the faintest touch of vexation is his tone. "Is this silence and chill something you intend to continue for a while?"

  That was one she could answer by not saying a word. She watched the rain coming down, the world gray and wet behind its transparent curtain, a small amount of satisfaction beginning to rise. He seemed to dislike her lack of response; if he disliked it strongly enough, that explanation might be forthcoming sooner than expected.

  "I could always order you to talk to me," he mused, obviously having understood her answer. "Since that's part of our
deal you would have to obey me, but I think I'd rather do something else. Lunch will be ready soon, so I hope you'll forgive me if at any time you feel rushed."

  Rianne had no idea what he was talking about, but his hand to her arm began to give her a hint. He used that gentle grip to draw her away from the window and into his arms, and then he was kissing her as if she'd run happily into his arms. She tried to keep herself from responding to the kiss, needing nothing more in the way of pain, but it simply wasn't possible. That one small part inside forced her to respond, most especially since the kiss was sweet rather than passionate. It was unlike any other kiss he'd ever given her, almost like something from a friend rather than a lover. But that didn't keep the contact from being painful, and when it ended she was almost as relieved as she was sorry.

  "Would you like to tell me what this was all about?" she asked once he had released her and she'd caught her breath. "If you were making a point, I'm afraid I missed it."

  "I - didn't want you to be angry with me," he groped, suddenly looking like a guilty little boy. A very large, guilty little boy. "I thought this would - bring us close together again, the way two people working together should be. I wasn't trying to upset you last night, I was just wrapped up in trying to protect your life. I would appreciate it if you could bring yourself to believe that."

  "I do believe it, but I don't appreciate it," Rianne stated, realizing he still meant to keep his secret. "If that's your usual manner of protecting things, I'd rather be in danger. Did you say lunch was ready?"

  He parted his lips to say something else, but the distance Rianne had put in her manner apparently made him change his mind. Rather than speak he nodded, then waited for her to lead the way out of the room. His sigh told her he hadn't accomplished whatever it was he'd really been after, and that brought some small satisfaction.

  Lunch was a quiet affair, after Machlin stopped trying to make small talk. Rianne resisted every attempt, more than aware that he was trying to make things better between them. It was such a futile effort, smoothing things over so that they could part on good terms. She didn't want to be on good terms with him, she wanted to hate him. Which she would certainly do after they'd finally caught up to the enemy…