Devil's Daughter

by Catherine Coulter

  “We shall see,” Adam said.

  The events of the evening crowded into her mind again. “I have never been so frightened in my life.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “You did not act frightened.”

  “I was too busy slicing up my leg.”

  “I am still frightened,” she said.

  “I shouldn’t give you more brandy. I can’t have you reeling about tomorrow with a hangover.”

  “Please hold me, Pietro.”

  He knew that he shouldn’t. Even after the terror of the evening, he felt desire for her. He looked away from her. “You were very brave tonight.”

  “Pietro—”

  God how he hated that name. “No, Rayna,” he said firmly, leaping to his feet and putting the distance of the small parlor between them. “And stop looking at me that way. I am not made of stone.”

  “Very well,” she said, then, “I believe I am sleepy.”

  “Good,” Adam said. “I will bring you a blanket.”

  “Yes,” she said, “that would be nice.”

  When he returned from his bedchamber with a blanket in his arms, Rayna was staring into the fireplace, a thoughtful frown drawing her brows together. She turned to look at him. “I don’t feel like a virgin anymore,” she said. “Your blood is on my thighs.”

  “Would you like to bathe before you sleep?” he said as he unfolded the blanket.

  “No.” She shuddered suddenly. “They were all staring at me. I wanted to die.”

  “When you see them again, as you will, at court functions, you must pretend complete indifference. I do not believe you have any more to fear from any of them, but promise me you will never be alone.”

  “I promise,” she said as she lay on the settee.

  Adam tucked the blanket about her legs. “The comte was right about one thing, petite. You do have spirit. Will you gullet me if I ever wander?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You are a lot like my mother,” Adam said. Before she could question him, he added, “Sleep now. I will wake you when it is time to leave.”

  Chapter 13

  Arabella felt anger so great, she shook with it. And contempt. Contempt at herself. During the weeks in Naples, she had enjoyed herself thoroughly, dancing with gallant Italian noblemen, attending every royal function available, and fancying that she was the one who was engineering the growing feeling between Adam and Rayna. In reality, she had paid mere lip service to the reason why Adam was here, treating the mystery as if it were some sort of harmless puzzle to be solved. But no longer.

  She shivered, thinking of what had happened to Rayna. And the contessa. She, fool that she was, had acted like an innocent lamb in the presence of that lady. Aware that Adam had turned back to her, she quickly unclenched her fists and smoothed out her frown. She managed to say calmly enough, “I did wonder why she asked me so many questions. Lord, Adam, if the Contessa Luciana di Rolando is the one behind all this, there has to be a reason.”

  “Bella, you have the same questions as I,” Adam said. He looked about the park for a moment, watching the morning sunlight stream through the thick blanket of foliage over their heads. “I haven’t the foggiest notion what her motives might be. I am simply telling you what several of the comte’s friends let slip to me last night. We cannot even be certain that it is she. I am sending Antonio with a letter to Father today, telling him all that has happened. He may know who this contessa is. I expect he will be in Naples with a dozen men within a week.”

  “Then it will all be over. I still can’t believe the effrontery of the comte. What a terrible ordeal for Rayna. You may be certain, Adam, that I shall take good care of her now.”

  “She was very brave, Bella, but I am concerned that her memories of what happened may affect her. I would appreciate your keeping a watch on her.”

  “You may be certain that I shall.” Arabella said. “Will you marry her, Adam?”

  “Yes, Miss Matchmaker, I shall.”

  If he had given her such credit but the day before, she would have teased him unmercifully. But not today. “That still leaves the contessa,” Arabella said after a moment. “She has invited me to lunch with her at her villa.”

  “You will not go.”

  “Good heavens, Adam, we obviously need more information. You cannot go to her villa, but I, an invited guest, certainly can.”

  “No,” he said, more forcefully this time. “And that’s an end to it, Bella. We will wait word from Father.”

  After twenty years, Arabella knew when she could cajole Adam and when she could not. She bit her lower lip, and said on a sigh, “Very well, Adam. Perhaps that is the wisest course.”

  “You know it is,” he said. “If you were a man, you would know not to rush pell-mell into the enemy’s camp without knowing his strength or his motives.”

  Ah, Arabella thought, still not looking at her brother, but a silly woman doesn’t have the advantage of all your man’s tactics and strategy. She nodded and flashed him a brilliant smile.

  Adam observed her closely for a moment, not trusting her, but there was another matter on his mind. “Bella, I have set Vincenzo to watch the viscount’s villa, but he is only one man. How did Rayna seem to you this morning?”

  “Quiet, I suppose, more so than usual. Lord, after what happened to her last night, I would expect her to be cowering under her bed. When I left, her mother had decided to physic her.” She laughed, remembering the scene. “Rayna finally talked her out of it.”

  “Bella,” Adam said, “I must go now. Keep close to the viscount and away from the contessa. I have a feeling that events are going to close in around us very quickly.”

  “You mean that we have, perhaps, stirred the pot to boiling?”

  “It is odd,” Adam said thoughtfully after a moment, stroking his thick beard, “but I think the pot was boiling long before we arrived in Naples. It’s like a tangled skein that can be unraveled only by one set of hands.”

  “Whose hands, Adam?”

  Adam shrugged. “It’s just an odd feeling I have. I believe it is Father.”

  Rayna chatted brightly to her parents at the dinner table that evening, laughing as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Arabella didn’t know Rayna had come to a decision, an irrevocable decision of which she was very certain. She smiled serenely at her father as he paused to sip his wine, interrupting his diatribe against foreigners in general and Italians in particular.

  “Rayna, my dear,” the viscount said then, “what did you do today?”

  Rayna started, but only for a moment, and then smiled brightly. “Ah, naught of much, really. I practiced the piano and studied my Italian. Maria, my maid, believes me nearly a native now.”

  Edward, who believed that English was the only useful language, merely nodded.

  “I look forward to a restful evening at home,” Lady Delford said to the table at large. “Thank the Lord there are no new arrivals and yet another reception at court.”

  “I, too, Mother,” Rayna said. “I for one am rather tired and look forward to an early bed.”

  “Do you feel all right?” Rayna’s mother asked.

  “Just a bit of a headache,” Rayna said. She listened as her father recounted the news in a letter from her eldest brother. Lord Delford peered at his daughter closely before finishing smoothly, “Thomas hopes to be in England in the fall. And not alone, I might add. He will bring Lord Lynton with him, Rayna, a gentleman he assures me is all that one could wish. Thomas tells me that besides being an excellent soldier—”

  “—he enjoys an income of ten thousand pounds a year?”

  “Certainly he is not a pauper. He is, evidently, interested in making your acquaintance, my dear. He is Eagleton’s grandson, a gentleman of great good sense whom I much admire.”

  “He sounds a paragon, Papa,” she said.

  “I look forward to seeing Thomas again,” Arabella said, drawing the viscount’s attention away from
Rayna. “I must convince him that the navy, particularly an assignment with Nelson, would be far more exciting than the army.”

  Out of civility, Lord Delford forced a pained smile. As Arabella spoke to his wife, he glanced at her fall of honey-colored hair, just like her mother’s, but when she turned, it was her father’s dark eyes that shone with humor and devilry at him. He said abruptly to his wife, “If you will excuse me, my love, I have some papers to review.” Arabella Welles was a handful, and too damned arrogant and sure of herself for a girl. He found himself rather relieved that she wasn’t his daughter, and wouldn’t be his responsibility for much longer. Without her influence, it would never occur to Rayna to speak back to him. It brought that black-bearded young puppy Adam Wells to mind. At least Rayna hadn’t mentioned him recently. He sighed, wishing they could leave Naples and all its chattering foreigners behind them.

  Rayna excused herself directly after tea and locked herself in her bedchamber. After an eternity of waiting, she finally heard the clock downstairs strike eleven. It was time to leave. She thought one last time of her promise to the marchese to stay close to her father’s villa, and resolutely repressed her fear that the comte or one of his friends was skulking about outside.

  She donned her cloak, looked back at the lumpy pillow she had placed beneath the covers in her bed, and peeked into the corridor. No one was in sight.

  There was a quarter-moon, and the night air was cool. She made her way silently to the small stable at the back of the villa. She would have to ride bareback, for she couldn’t risk her mare snorting and thrashing about if she tried to saddle her. The two stableboys were in their rooms at the rear of the stables, likely already in bed. She crept inside, and her heart jumped as one of the horses whinnied at her arrival.

  She shushed the stallion in a harsh whisper and pushed several cubes of sugar into his mouth before seeking out her mare. She stroked the mare’s nose and quietly slipped a bridle over her head.

  She looked at every shadow as she led her mare down the graveled drive toward the road, then slipped easily onto her back. The ride to the marchese’s lodgings was blessedly short. She led her mare to the small thatch-covered stable and tied her reins to a post. She crept through a maze of thick shrubbery to the front of the house and firmly grasped the brass knocker.

  The thudding sound it made against the door made her jump. But there was no answer, only silence, and she banged the knocker again. Her shoulders finally slumped in defeat. She was cursed with ill luck.

  Suddenly her heart plummeted to her toes. A hand covered her mouth and someone pulled her backward. At the same time, the front door opened, and Adam stood silhouetted in the dim light.

  “Jesus Christ. Rayna. Vincenzo—what the devil?”

  The hand over her mouth loosened, and the man said, “I followed her here, my lord. She wasn’t out of my sight for an instant.”

  “Thank you, Vincenzo,” Adam said. He saw that Rayna was perfectly white. “You may go back to the villa. I will return Miss Lyndhurst.”

  Vincenzo released her and stepped off the front steps, quickly disappearing into the night.

  Rayna saw the marchese’s disbelief turn to anger. She quickly threw herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around his back.

  “How can I protect you, you little fool, if you have no regard for your own safety?” Even as he spoke, his hands were pressing her against him and he was kissing her temple. “Come,” he said, pushing her away, “you are going home.”

  “I came to see you, Pietro.”

  “Have you lost your damned mind?” She merely smiled and he cursed. “Very well, come inside before someone sees you.”

  His hold on her arm was not gentle as he led her through the dim entrance hall to the parlor.

  Without speaking to her, he quickly strode to the long windows and drew the heavy curtains. He turned slowly. “This is nonsense, Rayna. I should beat you for your foolhardiness. What if the comte—”

  “I was very careful, but I had to see you.”

  “Very well,” he said evenly, “now you are here. What did you wish to say to me?”

  “Is the cut on your thigh healing?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It is nothing.”

  “Oh? You cut yourself often to protect virgins?”

  “Your wit is flat.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Tell me, Pietro, what is the weather like in Sicily this time of year?”

  “Rayna, what game are you playing?”

  She said, “If Sicily is to be my home, should I not show interest? Surely I would be unnatural if I did not.”

  “Sicily is quite warm. There is practically no rain.”

  “Tell me, marchese,” she continued, “what is England like—its weather, I mean?”

  He regarded her beneath lowered brows. “Are you quite through, Rayna?”

  “Perhaps. What I should like to know, sir, is why, when you first saw me, you spoke in the most fluent English?”

  “Damn,” Adam said.

  “Perhaps you only curse in English, marchese?”

  Adam sighed. “I am not a marquess,” he said in English, dropping all pretense. “Rayna, I promised your father that you would not discover who I am.”

  “I haven’t, yet. However, if you do not tell me exactly who you are, sir, I swear that I will ask my father directly.”

  He smiled reluctantly. “That, I daresay, is a believable threat. Very well, Miss Lyndhurst.” He gave her an elegant bow. “May I present Viscount St. Ives. Quite an acceptable fellow, really. Since you are not quite a stranger to him, I see no impropriety in your addressing him as Adam Welles.”

  “My God. The Earl of Clare—”

  “My esteemed sire.”

  “Arabella—”

  “My less-esteemed sister. Do you wish to review the rest of my family?”

  Rayna dropped abruptly to the sofa. “I do not believe it. It is too fantastic. And I was jealous of Bella. Ah, how you must have laughed at me behind my back.”

  “No, never that, cara. I felt miserable because I could not tell you who I was. Arabella too.”

  “You could have trusted me,” she said.

  “I did. As I said, it was a promise to your father. You see, Rayna, your father is not on particularly amicable terms with mine. Nor does your father particularly approve of me.”

  “But why?”

  “I doubt if I know the whole story. Evidently your father was once in love with my mother—indeed, I believe they were engaged. I gather he thinks my father some sort of marauder who stole the woman he wanted. And I, I fear, am no better.”

  “And Father intends me for this ridiculous Lord Lynton,” Rayna said.

  Adam was watching her changing expressions. “Now that you know the truth, Rayna, I can take you home.”

  “You greatly resemble your father. I should have recognized you.”

  “You have not seen me for six years, Rayna.” He stroked his beard. “This foliage renders me somewhat mysterious. I, on the other hand, remembered you as a scraggly little weed, with flyaway hair and skinned knees, forever trying to keep up with your brothers.”

  She saw him frown impatiently and said quickly, “So the comte is stealing from your family?”

  “He is involved, certainly. I think Bella and I have discovered who the person is who did the actual looting. My father should be arriving within the week. Then, my dear, I can have a talk with your father.”

  “I see,” she said. She rose from the sofa, gazed at Adam from beneath her lashes, and swayed. “Everything is so dark,” she whispered, flinging her hands toward him. He was at her side in an instant, his hands on her shoulders.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I shall be better soon,” she whispered and promptly leaned against him.

  Adam set about to soothe her. That his soothing took the form of a kiss did not seem inappropriate to him at the moment. When his tongue lightly caressed her lips, she parted her own. He wh
ispered love words into her mouth, a tantalizing mixture of Italian and English, his breath warm and sweet. She felt his large hands stroke down her back to her hips, and he lifted her, pressing her against him.

  Adam got hold of himself. “Forgive me, love, I would not hurt you, ever.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Home. I must get you home.”

  He thought he was taking advantage of her. “I still feel a bit faint,” she said, and promptly sat down on the sofa.

  Adam stared down at her. Did she not realize that she was driving him wild?

  Rayna drew back, a small smile playing about her lips. Adam watched her fingers unfasten the small buttons of her bodice.

  “Rayna, you will immediately stop what you are doing.”

  She continued with the buttons, not looking at him, until she felt the cool air touch her bare flesh. As she pushed at the lace straps of her chemise, his fingers covered hers.

  “So,” he said at last, “this is why you came here to me.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I came to seduce you.” Without another word, she slipped the straps of her chemise from her shoulders and pushed it downward. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. He hadn’t remembered how perfect she was.

  He tried to jump to his feet, but she grabbed his arm, and somehow—he wasn’t exactly certain later how it happened—he was on the sofa, his arms around her back, and his mouth pressed against the hollow of her throat.

  Adam had felt desire many times, but he had never before loved a woman he desired. He was amazed at how fiercely he wanted to possess her, to make her a part of him. He wanted her, as he had wanted many women before her, but he wanted even more than that to have her desire him.

  “Come,” he said. He pulled her to her feet and lifted her in his arms. He felt her light kisses against his throat as he carried her up the narrow staircase.

  Adam placed her on his bed and quickly lit the candle. From where he stood he could see the excited anticipation in her eyes, smiling to himself.

  Rayna lowered her eyes to the remaining buttons on her gown and began to unfasten them, her fingers steady.

  He sat beside her, pausing to push a tendril of auburn hair from her forehead, kissed her, and rose. He paused again, his hands on his cravat, to lean down and pull the spread over her.