by Sharon Green
"What have you done?" Machlin demanded, his gaze inspecting every inch of her. "You look - You're dressed - You're not dressed! How could you have come out like that?"
"I wasn't the one who had this costume made," she reminded him coldly, immediately stung by the unfair accusation. "Was I supposed to politely request something else to wear ten minutes before we were due to leave, or simply stay behind? Tell me which option you would have chosen, Mr. Machlin."
His jaw tightened as he straightened, but once again there were no immediate words. Everything she'd said was true and he knew it, but he didn't seem prepared to be reasonable. Rianne was sure he was about to demand that they leave, but Banyon's hand went to his arm.
"Bryan, we can't call things off now," the other man urged in a low voice. "There are too many people involved, and we may never have this chance again. Are you going to risk the only alternative, the one you said made you change your mind? No one can stay alert forever, not even you."
Machlin's expression changed then, at least what she could see of it. He wasn't pleased, but apparently he'd been given no choice.
"All right, Jeff, we'll go ahead with it," he conceded in a growl. "I can't risk the alternative, and she and I can discuss this later. Allow me to offer my arm, wife."
The unhappiness in his voice was unmistakable, which made Rianne take her turn at straightening with anger and indignation. So he was going to scold her later, was he? Just before he turned his back on her forever? Well, they'd see about that, but right now there was something else to see to.
"Mr. Banyon, I would consider it a favor if you were to offer your arm," she said, ignoring Machlin completely. "I have an - aversion to being escorted by men who feel themselves shamed by my company. I'd rather walk about with no escort at all."
Banyon hesitated and glanced at his employer, waiting for permission or denial. Rianne, who looked only at him, had no idea which it would be until the man sighed and offered his arm.
"Mrs. Machlin, the honor is mine," he said with a bow that looked ridiculous with what he was wearing. "Would you care for champagne, or possibly a fruit drink?"
"Definitely a fruit drink, Mr. Banyon," she answered. She took Banyon's arm, smiling at him as though he were the only one there. As far as she was concerned he was the only one there, and it would stay that way for as long as they remained at the gardens. Afterward she would be free to walk away entirely, and would never need to think about that brute again. She'd wanted to hate him, and for once her wish had come true…
Bryan watched his wife walk away with his secretary, and the chaos inside him was difficult to contain. What he wanted most was to kill something with his bare hands, preferably something extremely dangerous. He was already being torn to shreds, and it wasn't fair that he was being kept from fighting back.
A servant passed carrying glasses of champagne, pausing to offer one to Bryan. His fingers twitched with the desire to take two or three and empty them quickly, but he shook his head even to the suggestion of one. Drinking and fighting don't mix, not if you intend to survive the fighting. Once their business here was taken care of, he'd be able to drink all he liked…
Which is probably the only way I'll be able to stop seeing her, he silently admitted to himself. My God, there can't possibly be any woman ever who was more beautiful. She looks as though she's been dipped naked in liquid silver, and it hasn't yet dried. I know she isn't wearing anything under that, and she even freed her hair… It was all I could do not to take her, right here and now… How could she do this…? There can't be the slightest bit of caring for me in her…
And that was what hurt the most, the fact that she didn't care at all. He was nothing to her, and she'd proved it by unhesitatingly dressing in a way that would draw men to her like vultures to a dying carcass. She'd wanted him to know exactly what he'd soon be losing - as if he didn't already know. He'd never had a kind word from her except about Ross, no more than a single touch from a gentle hand…
You're a fool, Machlin, he thought flatly as he stood close beside a stone bench. You used to laugh at men who worshipped at the feet of women who didn't know or care they were alive. You also swore it would never happen to you, and now took at you. Almost ready to beg on your knees, if that would keep her with you.
But you've just remembered you don't have to beg. It's finally come through to you that she's your wife, and if you refuse to let her go she'll have no choice but to stay. And you won't have to worry about considering her feelings. She has no feelings, at least as far as you're concerned. She'll never love you, and it's time you admitted it. And gave up trying to make it happen. Just tell her what to do, and teach her to do it without arguing.
Bryan searched for the satisfaction his decision should have brought, and when he didn't find it he decided he was too distracted by what lay ahead of him. Once the enemy was met and bested, he'd break the news to her. She was his wife, and that wasn't called capture, it was called marriage. The law was on his side, so where was the sense in not taking advantage of it? Later was when the satisfaction would surface, without any possible doubt. He'd wanted her to want him freely, without coercion, but this would be just as good … Almost as good … It would…
After what seemed like days, Rianne finally found herself alone for the moment in a quiet corner. It had been much more than an hour, and she wished she had her fan with her. Not that a fan would have done much good, considering the mask she wore. Under it she was sweating, and that wasn't the only place…
She took a deep breath, then forced herself to admit the truth. Her discomfort had very little to do with the mask, and she cursed herself for ever having put on that costume. All those men, most of them faceless strangers… Thank God Banyon had been there… She must have squeezed every bit of blood out of his arm in her agitation…
But hopefully the men coming at her hadn't noticed. They'd been so forward she'd been shocked, but then anger had risen to help her. Strangers had offered every compliment they could think of, before shifting to being slyly suggestive; her own husband, however, had hated what she looked like and had blamed her for it, when all the time the whole thing had been his fault. She hated that brute, she really did - most especially for not being there to protect her.
But then she had to admit there was no reason to have expected him to be there. He might not want her life on his conscience, but that was as far as his caring went. He'd found another woman for his bed, but he'd also made sure she had enough money to take care of herself. What more could any gentleman do?
Rianne's throat burned with that question, and she wished Banyon would hurry back with her drink. It was still much too long until midnight, and she wasn't sure she could stand the wait. After that it would be over, completely and finally over, and then she could… could…
"Well, good evening lady Diana," a voice came suddenly from behind her, making her flinch. It was a male voice, and one that sounded faintly familiar. "I do hope you'll forgive my daring, but goddess or no, I felt I had to speak to you. You are a perfect vision of loveliness, and every man here will feel forever grateful for having been allowed this glimpse of your radiance."
By then the man stood in front of her, his costume patterned after the dress of those old-time freebooters who had roamed the waters thereabouts before England was an integrated island, much less an empire. He wore a leather mask and boots and dark wrapped-leather leggings, a long tunic of rose silk, a heavy shirt of imitation ring mail, and a wide sword at his hip. At the sight of that last Rianne's hand went to her own hilt, and the man took an uncertain step backward.
"Mrs. Machlin, I do beg your pardon," he said at once, his tone uncertain as well. "Have I offended you? It's this wretched sense of humor of mine, I suppose I'll never learn - You do know it's me, don't you? Jack Michaels?"
"Oh, Mr. Michaels," Rianne said in relief. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you. I thought it was another of those - people who have been at me since I arrived. I knew this co
stume was daring when my husband gave it to me, but I never dreamed…"
"That anonymity erases all sense of good manners in many people?" he finished when she didn't. "I must admit I understand the point too well personally. What I don't understand, however, is how Machlin could give you something like that to wear, and then disappear. Is he counting on your very realistic gesture of hand to sword to keep the rogues away? I daresay they'll realize, as I did, that touching a sword hilt is a far cry from wielding the weapon. Where has the dog gone?"
"I really don't know," Rianne answered, trying to sound almost as lost as she felt. According to the plans, she wasn't supposed to know where Machlin was. "I haven't seen him since we arrived. His secretary, Mr. Banyon, has been escorting me, but he's gone off to fetch me a fruit drink. There are so many people here, and so many taking advantage of the music to dance. It was very difficult to find a corner in a round hall."
"And even more difficult, I should imagine, finding a quiet corner," he said with a smile. "Machlin should be soundly trounced for having abandoned you, even if he's most likely been detained by those addicted to discussing business. May I make so bold as to offer my company, as well as a tour of the gardens? They're breathtakingly lovely, and beyond that they're cooler than this rotunda and a good deal less crowded."
Rianne didn't quite know how to answer that, but was saved from the need for an immediate reply. They were suddenly joined by a monk in brown robes and rope sandals, who stared at Rianne through a brown sackcloth mask before bending over her hand.
"Mrs. Machlin, is it not?" he asked, sounding a shade less than sure. "I hadn't expected to see you tonight. Robert Creighton here. We met at Alicia's do the other night. If it's you, where has Machlin gone?"
"He's abandoned her, Redstone," Jack Michaels supplied in a pleasant way. "I've already taken over, so you might as well be on your way."
"Jack?" Robert Creighton said, peering at the freebooter. "You're someone else I hadn't expected to see. Has the whole crowd shown up tonight? I thought you'd all sworn off this place as being too well attended by the so-called respectable."
"I've been wondering what all the fuss was about, so I came to see for myself," Jack answered with a continuing smile. "And 'respectable' isn't the way I heard this place described, which leads me to wonder what you're doing here. I thought you retired from the crowd to take up the straight and narrow."
Under his mask, Creighton's expression turned odd. He also seemed to be searching for an answer, which suddenly disturbed Rianne. The enemy, Haynes, had people in his power who were forced to help him. If Robert Creighton, the new Lord Redstone, was one of those… Maybe it was starting…
"Is this area reserved, or can anyone stop by?" a voice asked, this time a female one. Rianne turned to see a woman dressed as an Oriental empress, her hair dark and shiny and piled very high. Her vibrantly colored silk gown came down to the top of her slippers, but it was almost as straight and form-fitting as Rianne's. Her feather mask echoed the reds and blues and greens of her gown, and once again Rianne thought the voice was familiar.
"Lydia!" Jack Michaels exclaimed. "I think the whole crowd is reforming, Redstone. If Alicia ever finds out, she'll cross us all from her list for good."
"I understand she's already done that for me," Lydia Worden responded glumly. "Not that I can blame her. I never dreamed a banker could be that irresponsible, which proves how naive I am. I didn't know you and Robert were here, Jack. I came over to spend a moment with Rianne, but not the sort of moment I suspect you two are interested in. I would suggest that you gentlemen go in search of refreshments for us - before Machlin breaks loose and finds you here. They haven't been married long enough for him to be in the least tolerant or understanding."
"You may be right," Robert Creighton conceded after exchanging a glance with Jack. "But now that you're here to chaperone, it should be perfectly acceptable. We'll be right back."
The two men moved off, and were quickly lost in the crowd of revelers. Rianne didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, and then realized it didn't matter. They'd be back soon enough, and then the real game could begin…
"Am I mistaken in thinking you recognized my costume?" Lydia asked once the men were gone. "What I could see of your expression suggested that, and if you did, you're one of the very few here who have."
"I saw a drawing of that very gown in a book someone brought me as a gift," Rianne replied. "It was an academic work on one of the Oriental cultures, and was really very badly written. If all books on the Orientals are that dry, it's no wonder we know so little about them."
"I'm told all the books on the subject, the few that there are, are equally as bad," Lydia agreed with a smile. "But I really must say I was delighted to see you. Until you arrived, this gown was considered one step short of scandalous. However did you get Machlin to let you wear that?"
"He didn't have much choice, once we were already here," Rianne answered with a very deliberate smile of her own. "And I think people are much too easily scandalized. I consider it my duty to inure them to the unexpected and improbable."
"I used to think there should be limits to the unexpected and improbable," Lydia replied with the same sort of smile. "I suppose I still do, even though I seem to have moved beyond so comfortable an outlook. And I really didn't come over here to insult you. What I came for was to ask a favor."
"What sort of favor?" Rianne asked in turn, wondering at the smaller woman's faint sadness.
"I - couldn't help but notice that you were being escorted by Jeff Banyon, Machlin's secretary," Lydia responded, now looking embarrassed and possibly even flustered. "I've - never had the chance to meet the gentleman, but often felt I would enjoy doing so. Would you - I mean, is there any reason you would prefer not to - "
"Introduce you to him?" Rianne interrupted, just to stop Lydia's very painful groping for the proper words. It was odd that Lydia had recognized Banyon under that costume, but possibly she'd noticed his unusual eyes. A woman interested in a man did notice such things, even though Lydia hadn't seemed the sort who would find attraction in a man like Banyon. Ah, well, stranger things had happened… "I can't see any reason why not," Rianne continued, "and he should be back at any moment. He made me promise to wait right here for him."
"Probably until he finishes whatever he's doing with Machlin," Lydia said with a nod, faintly less embarrassed. "I saw the two of them going that way just a few moments ago, and they seemed rather intent. You'd think they would forget about business while they're supposed to be having a good time."
"What's through that door that would interest them?" Rianne asked as casualty as she could. Only the chase could have distracted them, and if they'd started something without her - ! "Most people seem to be passing right by."
"I think there's a small, private apartment back there," Lydia replied, something of a frown in her voice. "The cost of it is rather high, I'm told, but there's usually someone who takes it for the night. A private party within a party, or a place for secret business partners to meet, or anything you'd care to use it for. I've even heard there are sometimes - assignations - there."
"Are there really," Rianne murmured, thinking about Machlin's new woman, but then dismissed the thought. Banyon was with him, Lydia had said, and the assignation they were all there for would leave little or no time for dallying. But if Haynes had taken the apartment for the night and they'd found out about it, they might also have found a way to reach Haynes without using her as bait.
"Why don't we just stroll over that way," Rianne suggested, again trying to sound casual. "The music may not be quite as loud over there, which will make introductions much easier to perform."
"But - but weren't you told to stay here?" Lydia asked in confusion, hurriedly following an already strolling Rianne. "Won't he be furious with you for disobeying?"
"I'm sure he'll get over it," Rianne answered with a smile, feeling more than a little superior. Another woman would have stayed whe
re she'd been put, thereby missing out on everything she'd come here for. Rianne wasn't about to miss anything, not when she'd waited so long…
Moving around the edges of the masked revelers got them to the door fairly quickly. The music, of course, was just as loud there as it had been in their original position, but happily Lydia never noticed. She eyed the door almost with suspicion, and stopped just short of it.
"I really don't think we should be doing this," she said, looking around nervously. "They're more than likely talking business in there, and won't appreciate the intrusion of two women. Wouldn't it be better if - "
"No, it wouldn't," Rianne said without waiting to hear the suggestion. "Really, Lydia, you must get over this belief of yours that men have to be obeyed. As you said, this is no place to talk business. Once we remind them of that, they'll certainly be grateful."
She flashed the smaller woman another smile, then walked directly to the door and opened it. The short hallway beyond was something of a letdown, but not completely. At the end of the empty hallway, no more than ten feet ahead, was another door, behind which they certainly had to be.
Without waiting to see if she was being followed, Rianne moved ahead to the next door. It was always possible the apartment would contain no one but Machlin and his men, and then she really would be in trouble for going off on her own. Now that she thought about it, Jack had turned up in an awfully convenient way. Maybe that suggested walk in the gardens hadn't been his suggestion after all…
Rianne reached the far door, opened it, and walked through almost automatically. Thinking about Robert Creighton and Jack Michaels had distracted her, and it took a moment before she really saw the only man in the room.
"Good evening, Lady Diana," he said in a low, deep voice that wasn't in the least familiar. "You've been on the hunt, but can now consider the hunt ended. Your part of it, at any rate."