Night of a Thousand Stars

by DEANNA RAYBOURN

  “It’s frightfully romantic,” I said lightly.

  “Yes,” he said. He stopped just short of touching me. “I’m a fool. I shouldn’t have come out here. I should have stayed in my room and closed the shutters and pretended I didn’t smell the jasmine and couldn’t see you standing in the moonlight. Instead here I am with you, alone.”

  “Is it so bad being alone with me?” My heart was taut in my chest.

  “It’s torture,” he said savagely. He reached out, his hands clasped hard on my shoulders. “Are you really that blind, my darling?” His kisses were nothing like Gerald’s. His had been timid, polite. Hugh’s were nothing of the sort. His technique was experienced, and he held me firmly with one arm while the other hand slid up into my hair, stroking my neck intimately. He moaned endearments as my arms came to settle at his waist. It was a very good performance on his part, and it seemed only courteous to offer him something in return.

  From the jasmine a nightingale gave a short, sharp burst of song and it sounded like a laugh.

  “Well, I suppose that’s a commentary on my lovemaking,” he said. He attempted lightness, but his voice shook and I could see the pulse beating hard at his throat.

  “If so, it’s mistaken,” I told him. “Your lovemaking is quite practised.”

  He presumed it was a compliment. He pressed another kiss, this one more chaste, to my temple, murmuring more sweet words against my skin.

  I slipped nimbly away from his groping hands and pointed to the stars.

  “It was a star that told Peter Pan when to fly away with Wendy,” I said idly.

  Hugh tipped his head. “Come again?”

  “Peter Pan,” I explained. “When he goes into the nursery window and coaxes the children to come away with him. It’s a naughty little star that warns him the grown-ups are about to come and spoil his fun. That’s when they all fly away together, all because a little star shouted a warning.”

  His expression was blank. “I’m afraid I don’t know it.”

  “You don’t know Peter Pan! You must have been a grown-up for a very long time not to know it,” I teased.

  His face was serious in the half-light of the rising moon. “I think I have been,” he said slowly. “It’s been a long time since I felt anything other than a thousand years old.”

  “The war?” I asked.

  He shrugged, giving me a lopsided smile. “It meant the end of childhood for a lot of us. There were things I did that I cannot possibly explain to the boy I once was.”

  I said nothing. He turned to me then, lifting his hands to grip my shoulders. “I wish I could explain them to you. There’s so much I want you to understand, so much I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?” I whispered. It seemed a night made for whispering, and in the vines against the wall, I heard rustling. Doves, exchanging confidences of their own.

  His hands tightened. “Because I’m afraid you’ll despise me. And I couldn’t bear that. Not from you.” A pause stretched between us, taut and expectant, and just as he bent his head to mine, the rustling in the vines grew louder. “Bloody birds,” he muttered.

  I smothered the urge to giggle. Something about his mood told me he wouldn’t appreciate frivolity on my part, and I looked up at him as demurely as I could manage. His expression was tortured.

  “Dear God, darling, if only I could tell you everything, make a clean breast of it all. But now it seems my past is catching up with me. I’m not afraid for myself, but I think it may be putting you in danger.” It was almost word for word what he had told me in the street, and I wondered how often he had rehearsed it. The little speech seemed designed to evoke sympathy and add a dash of mystique, and I didn’t much blame him. Wooing must be hard enough for a fellow, but to have only a valet’s wages to offer a girl would be a difficult thing indeed. Better men than Hugh Talbot had probably invented richly embroidered pasts to make themselves seem glamorous to the girls they courted.

  But there was a new urgency to his approach, and I pushed at his chest to see him better.

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “The cart today. Do you really think it was an accident?” he demanded.

  “Of course it was.”

  “My poor naïve little love,” he murmured. “I am so sorry to have involved you in all of this. If I could have spared you, but how was I to know? It seems my old ghosts are coming home to roost.”

  I thought of the colonel’s hints, and stared up at Hugh with dawning certainty. The hints and innuendoes hadn’t been a bit of flummery to impress a girl he liked. He had been a spy. My own little adventure seemed suddenly quite small compared to his daring deeds. “What ghosts?” I demanded.

  “I can’t tell you, my darling girl. I’ve been sworn to secrecy. But I can tell you I will protect you. With my life if I must,” he promised.

  And to seal it, he bent his head and kissed me again.

  It was a thorough kiss, expert and sensual and extremely impressive. He pulled back after a long moment, his voice husky as he looked down into my eyes.

  “My adorable girl. I think it’s time to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” I asked, widening my eyes.

  “About Sebastian Fox.”

  Eleven

  I caught my breath. “You know him?”

  He gave a small, tight smile. “I see you know the name, too. Yes, I do. I’m afraid our paths crossed during the war. I should have put him out of commission then, but I lost my chance. It was either remove him or save a dozen lives, and I chose...well, I still don’t know if I chose wisely. He disappeared for a while, and I hoped he was dead. God knows the monster deserves to be,” he said vehemently.

  I shook my head, trying to reconcile the idea of Sebastian as a monster with the friendly, accommodating curate who had rescued me from my own wedding. “What did he do?”

  “Unspeakable things,” he said swiftly. “Things that would give me nightmares if I could dream anymore. But I will never tell you. I won’t sully you with the sordidness of what he did.”

  I shook my head. “But Sebastian is so...so—”

  His face was grim. “Don’t underestimate him, my love. That perfectly cordial, English public-school persona of his is precisely why people get into trouble. They trust him, and before they understand what he is, he shows his true colours. You’ve had a narrow escape, but this time he’s gone too far.”

  He gave a dramatic pause to allow me to react. I said nothing, and my lack of response must have goaded him. He gripped my shoulders. “I know where he is now. He overplayed himself with this little stunt with the donkey cart. And now I’m onto him. And I think you deserve to be there when I confront him.” He had the air of a man conferring a great favour, so I gave him an appreciatively breathless little gasp.

  “Me? Do you really think so?”

  “I do. You deserve to look that bastard in the face and tell him what you really think of him. And then my assignment will be finished.”

  “Your assignment?”

  His half-smile was back. “Did you really think I was a valet, darling?”

  I shrugged and he laughed softly, pulling me into his arms.

  “My poor little love. You’re shivering. I hope it isn’t from fear. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. I’m going to get him tonight, with your help. And then it will all be over.”

  There was a sudden rustling in the shadows. “Oh, for God’s sake, that was the most revolting display I’ve ever seen,” said a familiar voice.

  One of the shadows detached itself and moved towards us, stepping into the pool of moonlight. It was Sebastian, but not the Sebastian I had known. His long black cloak was thrown back to reveal native dress instead of his shabby curate’s suit—a slim robe over snug trousers that had been tucked into tall boots. A
wide belt bound his narrow waist, and his shoulders seemed very broad in comparison. He wore a native headdress, also black, and he was bearded—a new development since I had last seen him, and this addition brought his features into crisp focus. I could just see his mouth, set in an unpleasant line, as he regarded Hugh. His nose and cheekbones were sharply prominent now, like a profile from an ancient coin, and his eyes had been lined with kohl, darkening them to blackness. He looked every inch the desert prince, and I stared from him to Hugh.

  “Fox,” Hugh said grimly. He put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a pistol, aiming it squarely at Sebastian’s chest.

  Sebastian gave a mocking half-bow. “I hear you’ve been looking for me. No need to draw poor Miss March into things, old boy.”

  He crossed his arms coolly over his chest and gave Hugh a superior stare.

  Hugh’s expression was one of pure contempt. “You’re the one who pulled Miss March into this. I swear, if you harm a hair on her head—”

  Sebastian coughed. “Really, that’s uncalled-for. I don’t make a habit of harming women.”

  “Really?” Hugh gave a thin, mirthless laugh. “What about the donkey cart?”

  Sebastian blinked at him. “What donkey cart?”

  “The donkey cart that very nearly killed her today!” Hugh said, eyes blazing. His hands were fisted at his sides.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Sebastian said evenly.

  “I don’t believe you,” Hugh said, lifting his chin. “You’re just monstrous enough to try to harm her to get to me. And all for your filthy gold.”

  I spoke up for the first time. “What gold?”

  “The Ashkelon gold,” Hugh said.

  I gave a short, sharp laugh. “Lady Hester’s gold? You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am. It is the most fabulous treasure in all of history.”

  “It would be if it were true,” I countered. I had learnt about the gold in the biography of Lady Hester I had read on the ship. A cache of Crusader gold brought here by the Templars, it had been lost for five centuries.

  “It is true,” Hugh insisted. “It was rediscovered by Lady Hester Stanhope in the early nineteenth century. It’s worth more than any other find in all the world, enough gold to fill the holds of a hundred ships. And now he has come for it,” he finished.

  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake. It’s a myth, a fairy story invented by treasure hunters to keep themselves warm at night. It doesn’t exist. It never did. And even if it did, do you honestly believe a dilettante like Lady Hester Stanhope could have unearthed it? And if she did, how do you possibly imagine she could have kept the find quiet? It beggars belief that people like you are really stupid enough to think—” It was a spectacular rant. He kept on in that vein for quite some time, taunting Hugh’s intelligence, courage, common sense, and even his manhood. All the while, Hugh came closer, until finally, at the height of his rampage, Sebastian struck out with his foot and kicked the pistol out of his hand.

  They were of similar height and build and I would have expected them to grapple for some time. Instead, it was over in a single blow. Sebastian clipped him neatly under the jaw, and down he went like an empty suit of clothes, folding over himself quietly.

  Sebastian bent to assess his condition and gave a nod of satisfaction as he kicked Hugh’s gun under a potted plant. He turned to me and put out his hand. “Are you coming with me willingly or shall I abduct you properly?”

  “What, you mean throw me over your shoulder and carry me off like an old carpet?” I retorted.

  “Something like that.”

  “I could just throw my head back and scream like a banshee.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to gag you?”

  “Not particularly. But I would dearly love an explanation.”

  “No time, I’m afraid.” He glanced down at Hugh’s motionless form. “We only have about five minutes before your gentleman caller comes to and decides to pay me back for that. If you’re coming, it’s now or never.”

  He held out his hand again and I didn’t hesitate. I took it as I stepped lightly over Hugh. “By the way, where are we going?”

  Sebastian gave me a half-smile. “After the Ashkelon gold, of course.”

  * * *

  We fled down the stone stairs as quickly as we dared. The outer door in the stone wall was still locked, but it scarcely slowed Sebastian. He took a run at it and vaulted, putting one foot high on the wall and launching himself onto the top of it. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would hardly have believed it. But there was no time to marvel. He put his hands out and hauled me up to the top of the wall with him.

  “Wait!” I put a hand to his sleeve. “What about the colonel? The comtesse? Hugh is clearly a danger. We have to warn them.”

  “Not a chance,” Sebastian said flatly. “They don’t know a damned thing about the gold, so they’re safe. It’s me he wants, and if you don’t mind, I’d rather not give him a second opportunity to point that gun at me.”

  With that he grabbed my wrists again and tossed me lightly down the other side of the wall. I landed in a bougainvillea—an extremely uncomfortable experience—but he avoided it entirely. He pulled me free, and I dusted the leaves off my dress.

  “Do you think just once we could spend time together without you throwing me into shrubbery?” I demanded.

  But he wasn’t listening. He was looking around, assessing the situation as he peered into the darkened street. “Come on.”

  He took me by the hand and turned the corner, plunging into a nearby alleyway. We walked for hours, changing direction and doubling back. Even if Hugh had managed to follow us, he would never have kept to our trail. We climbed more walls, nipping through sleeping gardens and crossing private courts. One was festooned with washing hung out on a line, and Sebastian pulled down a long black robe for me along with a veil.

  “Put these on over your clothes. If we encounter anyone it would look damned strange for a native bloke to be out with a European woman.”

  I dragged them on, immediately regretting it. I had worn a similar costume at the Great Mosque. It was required of female visitors, and I hadn’t liked it any better there than I did now. The robe was heavy wool and suffocating even in the coolness of the night.

  “You can lift up the bottom of the robe until we see anyone. Then drop it and shuffle your feet. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see those wretched heels of yours.”

  I was wearing my evening slippers—pale pink silk with high heels. They were heavenly, but I had to agree with Sebastian; they weren’t the most practical footwear for dashing through stone streets.

  “Where exactly are we going, by the way? Not that I’m not having an absolutely marvelous time,” I assured him.

  He flicked me a small grin. “I’ve a bolthole not far from here.”

  “A bolthole! How exciting. Do you have many?”

  “Enough. Now stop talking. The only thing worse than anyone spotting those ridiculous shoes would be hearing you speak English.”

  I did as he told me and trotted after him, cursing under my breath at the costume. I don’t know how Sebastian managed native robes so beautifully. I was forever tripping over the hem or getting the veil twisted sideways so I couldn’t see anything at all. But after another eternity of stone passages and sleeping courtyards, we came to a small door hidden in the shadows. He eased inside, pulling me after him. It was pitch-black on the other side, but he struck a match and I saw we were in a storeroom. The place was lined with bolts of fabric of every variety, mostly silks, and all of them beautiful. They shimmered crimson and cerulean and the most vivid shade of violet I had ever seen. It was like being in Aladdin’s cave, only the jewels had been spun into cloth.

  I put out my hand to touch a length
of it, and Sebastian tutted. “Don’t even think of it. Demetrius will have my head if so much as an inch of his inventory is moved.” He bolted the door behind us and lit a small lamp. He went to the corner where a large cabinet stood, ancient and decrepit-looking, the wood riddled with worm.

  It seemed a curious choice for a man so fastidious about his inventory, but before I could ask, Sebastian had vanished into the cabinet, taking the light with him.

  I screeched and he put his head out again, haloed in the soft light. “Good God, I’ve known monkeys that couldn’t make that noise. Hush and follow.”

  I obeyed, climbing into the cabinet after him. I didn’t much relish the idea of hiding out in a fusty cabinet, but to my astonishment, it wasn’t a cabinet at all. The back of it was actually a stout door, and beyond that was a narrow, twisting stair. I could see from the glow that Sebastian was descending and I followed, gathering my skirts in my hands.

  We emerged into a small storage room, this one comfortably fitted with a sleeping pallet, another lamp, a few books, and a few tins of food with a crooked table and a pair of decrepit chairs.

  “Not much, but it will do in a pinch,” he said by way of explanation. He waved to a small trunk in the corner. “There are bits and pieces for disguise there, and we can probably find better shoes for you as well as some kohl to darken your eyes.”

  While he talked he set to work, extracting things from the trunk as deftly as any magician as I stripped off the fusty black robe.

  “I do feel bad about the colonel,” I began. “He’ll worry so. Unless Hugh tells him the truth.”

  “He might,” Sebastian conceded. “But it makes far more sense for Hugh to keep his mouth shut and claim he knows nothing about your disappearance. If he plays dumb, the colonel will have no reason to doubt him.”

  “I suppose. But what’s to stop the colonel from launching a hue and cry about my disappearance? Surely we don’t want him scouring the city for me. That would only get in our way,” I pointed out.