Night of a Thousand Stars

by DEANNA RAYBOURN

  “Where are they? Who are they?” I asked softly.

  He shrugged. “No idea. But pretend you’re admiring the sunrise. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, jerking his chin towards the rays that spread over the length of the desert landscape. The dusty rocks were every colour of gold—bronze and apricot, copper and peach—

  I gasped and Sebastian shot me a quick look. “What is it?”

  “Peaches,” I told him slowly. “I know who Faruq’s partner is.” I thought back to the day I had lunched with Armand, his elaborate pursuit of me—too elaborate it had seemed at the time. I thought of the apparent genteel poverty of the Courtempierres, the missing art and furnishings, the comtesse’s lack of jewels. They needed money, lots of it if Armand was going to sustain the lifestyle he enjoyed. He and Hugh must have concocted the scheme together, each of them playing for me until the comtesse proved troublesome by setting Faruq on me and following me herself. That must have been her idea—to put a little distance between her beloved son and me. She forced the matter, letting Hugh work on charming me into divulging something. No dirty work for her precious Armand.

  Sebastian was still looking at me intently and I roughed out the idea for him as swiftly as I could. “And you don’t like coincidences,” I finished. “In my theory, there are none. Hugh needs a local contact to help him out, Armand needs money. They conspire together and either take Faruq into their confidence to help and he double-crosses them or he overhears enough to make his own play for the gold.”

  Sebastian nodded slowly. “Well done, Poppy. I think you’ve sussed it. Pity it’s probably too late.”

  “What do you mean too late?” I demanded.

  But he merely nodded to where Faruq was standing at the edge of the precipice, staring, his mouth open in rage.

  He turned slightly, but before he could say a word he gave a little shudder and only then did I hear the shot. It was a strange trick of the distance that I could see the bullet strike his head before I heard it, but the sound of it still echoed over the desert floor even as Faruq fell to the ground.

  “Oh, my God,” I managed, turning my face to Sebastian’s shoulder.

  “Don’t look again,” he ordered me. He pulled off his outer robe, laying it over the remains of Faruq’s head.

  It was better now that I could not see him. It seemed hours but in fact it was only a minute or two before they reached us—Armand and the comtesse and the colonel, very red in the face and still holding his rifle.

  He glanced down at the motionless form of Faruq. “Always was rather handy at a distance,” he said mildly. “The villain had it coming, although I’m sorry you had to see it, child,” he said to me.

  My knees nearly buckled with relief. “Colonel!” I cried. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “And I you, my dear,” he said with a regretful tone. “But I do wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances.”

  “So do I,” I told him fervently.

  But even as I said the words, something hovered in the air, crushing my euphoria. “Oh, Colonel,” I murmured. “Not you.”

  He shrugged, lifting the rifle. “I’m afraid so, my dear. But you’ve been mighty useful, and I thank you for that.”

  He nodded towards my bound wrists. “I say, there’s no call for a white woman to be trussed up like that. Cut her loose now,” he ordered Armand.

  Armand complied with a curl to his handsome lip. “I don’t know,” he said softly into my ear. “I rather like you this way. Perhaps I’ll keep you when this is all over.”

  Armand had no personal interest in me, of that I was absolutely certain. He simply wanted to unnerve me by threatening me with the most intimate sort of violence, and it was a coward’s trick.

  I gave him a cold smile. “You’d have to use force, Armand. I’m afraid that’s the only way I’d have you.”

  His smile thinned and he gave my ropes a quick twist, tightening them like a garrote around my poor wrists. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of screaming, but something in my face must have shown because Sebastian chose that moment to speak up.

  “Is this the famous Continental wooing up close?” he drawled. “Not terribly impressive, Count. Come here and hold hands with me and see if you like it better.”

  Armand—understanding it for the threat it was—laughed, but I noticed he was careful to stay far out of Sebastian’s reach even though his hands were still bound.

  The comtesse moved forward to Sebastian, her robes fluttering in the breeze. “Here is a copy of the document you and your colleagues found at the monastery near Ashkelon, the same document given to Lady Hester Stanhope. It is written in mediaeval Italian, and it details the locations of several treasure troves hidden by Christians along the coast when this was the kingdom of the Outremer. We do not care about the smaller treasures. You know the one we want,” she told Sebastian in a chillingly conversational tone. “The Templar gold, all three million coins of it. It is here, somewhere along this coast. And you will find it for us.”

  Sebastian said nothing for a long moment then stirred lazily. “Oh, sorry, is this where I ask what dire thing will happen to us if we don’t?”

  Her smile was thin. “I think you know the answer to that. For every hour you delay, I will remove one of Miss March’s fingers,” she said, grabbing my hand. She pulled up the index finger of my right hand. “I think I will begin with this one to give you an incentive to work hard.”

  She put out her free hand and her son handed over his dagger. She put it to the base of my finger, pricking out a ruby droplet of blood.

  “Oh, don’t let’s descend to melodrama,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “I can tell you right now without even studying the document that you’re in the wrong part of the country for that. In fact, you’re in the wrong country altogether.”

  “What do you mean?” the comtesse demanded, her eyes narrowed.

  Sebastian looked bored. “We’re in Palestine, dear lady. The treasure you want is in the Lebanon.”

  “And how do you know this?”

  He waved a hand towards the document. “Because the three locations detailed in the map are Ashkelon, a site north of Jaffa, and a third site just out of Sidon, near Lady Hester’s home at Djoun. Now, why else do you suppose the lady chose to make her home on that remote hillside save for the fact that it was an abandoned monastery? Shall I give you a moment to work it all out?” A note of condescension crept into his voice. “Very well, I’ll just hand it to you on a platter. She chose that location precisely because it was where the treasure was originally buried. She didn’t have to dig it up. It was there all the while.”

  I had no idea what Sebastian’s strategy was. He told me he had already searched the place thoroughly himself, and he had insisted there was no way the treasure could have been buried there. He had sworn that too much time had passed and too many owners and squatters had come and gone. But the instant I grasped what he was up to, so did the comtesse.

  Her smile was predatory. “Very clever, Mr. Fox. It is no coincidence, I think, that you have given us the location farthest from where we now stand. You hope that we will take you with us all the way back to Sidon. It is a substantial trip. You are thinking you could well make your escape while we are en route.”

  He shrugged. “I’m merely giving you the facts as I see them. If you choose to ignore them, so be it. Don’t find the gold. I don’t much care.”

  “But you will, I think,” she said, picking up my finger where she had left off.

  Just then the colonel, who had been remarkably restrained during the exchange, spoke up. “I say, Sabine, that’s just not cricket. You can’t maim an Englishwoman for sport. I won’t have it.”

  She turned to him, her eyes glittering. But she gave him a gracious nod and dropped my hand. She held out the dagger to her son, and as
she passed it to him, their eyes met. Something was decided between them, wordlessly, and I felt a chill pass through me.

  Before I could understand what was happening, Armand stepped behind the colonel and embraced him. Reaching in front of the old man, he slipped his blade from one ear to the other. A spray of crimson showered the sandy ground, and it was done. The colonel slipped to his knees, an expression of surprise on his ruddy features, and then he fell to his face.

  I could not speak. The sound was stuck in my throat. But there was another sound, a high keening moan of despair, and it was not until the comtesse lifted her hand and slapped me sharply that I realized it was mine. I fell silent, grateful for the burst of pain in my cheek.

  She turned to Sebastian, and I was relieved to see she looked unnaturally pale. If she was not entirely comfortable with her son’s violence, there was a chance for us yet.

  “That was...regrettable,” she said in a broken voice. She paused and gathered up her composure, unlike her son, who was cleaning off his knife with a twist of scrubby grass and whistling a dull tune. “The colonel expected us to share the wealth evenly, and that would not do. I have taken all the risk, and all the reward shall be mine,” she said, her voice a little more resolute.

  Sebastian shook his head slowly. “You’re not very good at this, are you? It’s quite apparent that as soon as we help you find the gold, you’re going to let that little brute have his nasty way with us. What possible incentive do we have to help you? And stop with the threats of mutilation, will you? It’s unseemly and not very elegant,” he told her severely.

  She smiled a little in spite of herself. “I do not like it this way, you are right. But Armand is correct. We have suffered enough at the hands of others. The war, your war, took everything from us—my husband, our money. This treasure is our one chance to regain what we lost. Nothing will bring my husband back again, nothing will give Armand his father again, but with it I can buy back his patrimony. I can secure his inheritance in France, the inheritance his family have held for four hundred years. I can give him that.”

  “But at what cost?” Sebastian asked gently.

  “At whatever cost necessary,” she said. I saw regret in her eyes, and I think if it were not for her son, she might have shown us a little mercy then. But Armand was not merciful, and so the comtesse could not afford to be.

  She drew in a deep breath. “You will help us because for every minute we are moving closer to the treasure, you have another minute of life. And you are a creature of hope, I think, Mr. Fox. You will plot and plan and wait for your chance, the chance that will not come. But you will spend your last hours hoping, and that will be enough for you.”

  Sebastian’s mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. “In that case, I am yours to command, comtesse. Take us to Sidon and we’ll find your gold for you.”

  * * *

  And so we turned our backs on the western horizon and Cairo and safety and set our faces to the north, to Sidon and Djoun and the broken-down home where Lady Hester had lived out her days in decaying wealth. That was the lowest point for me, the moment when my spirits began to falter, and I wondered if we would come out of this adventure alive. Until then, even through Hugh’s death, it hadn’t seemed entirely real. Perhaps because I hadn’t been there to see it. But I had seen the others, and I would never forget them. There was an element of game to it all, like a chess match with an unseen opponent, pitting one’s wits against another’s. But there would be no civilized handshake at the end of this, no cordial goodbyes. There would be winners and losers, and the stakes were death.

  My hands began to shake, and I looked at Sebastian. His unshaven jaw, dark and unkempt, was lifted high, and his expression was one of thorough boredom. Did he fully understand the depths of our predicament? I wondered. There was a touch of insouciance about him still, a casual coolness that meant he was either blithely hoping for the best, or simply refused to dwell on the unpleasantness awaiting us. I turned away, hotly impatient with his optimism. I would have to find a way out of this. For both of us.

  The comtesse and her son took us to a little cove just south of Ashkelon where we boarded a private boat under cover of darkness. They had skirted the town, waiting until the local folk were tucked up in their beds before cloaking us in dark, muffling robes and leading us through the stony streets. Armand had made a point of brandishing his knife at us while his mother draped us in our robes.

  “I would be only too happy to use this. Do not give me a reason to do so,” he warned.

  Sebastian yawned widely, earning him a quick slap from Armand, but I was careful to keep my eyes downcast and give him every appearance of obedience. We approached the little cove with a series of whistles and signals from the comtesse to the crew of the small boat. They did not appear to know each other well. The comtesse kept her face closely veiled and the captain addressed her only as sitt or lady. He and his crew were remarkably lacking in curiosity, scarcely looking at us as we boarded, and I theorised they were no doubt smugglers, such as roam the coast of every sea, trading in any sort of endeavour if it brings them coin. He had probably been born to the trade and owed no allegiance to anything save his own pocket. That meant there was no hope for Sebastian or me to persuade them to our side. The comtesse had undoubtedly paid them well for their services, and more importantly, for their silence. After they landed us at Sidon, they would promptly forget about us, and in the meantime, nothing but trumping the comtesse’s fee would win us their loyalty. Between us, Sebastian and I had our papers and a few miserable bank notes, but nothing near enough to pay for a crew to turn on the comtesse.

  In any event, we had no opportunity. We were taken below and promptly locked into a bare cabin without light or food and left there for the duration of the journey.

  “Sebastian,” I began.

  “Don’t,” he said softly. “Just go to sleep. One of the first rules of this game, love. Rest when you can. You don’t ever know when you’ll get another chance.”

  I did as he told me, curling myself into as comfortable a position as I could manage. But sleep was elusive, and I could hear the occasional movement that told me Sebastian was wakeful, too.

  “I know you don’t want to talk, but I can’t sleep. And all I can think about is that knife of Armand’s,” I told him miserably.

  He gave a sigh. “Come here.”

  I felt along the floor until my fingers brushed against his boot. Using that as a guide, I pulled myself along until I was beside him. He lifted his arms and lowered them over me, tucking me under his shoulder, resting his chin atop my head.

  “What do you suppose happened to Peeky?” I asked.

  I felt his chest rumble under my cheek. “We’re for it, and you’re worried about the bloody dog?”

  “I hope they left him with the comtesse’s maid. She seemed a nice enough girl. I think she would take good care of him,” I said, more to convince myself than anything else.

  “I’m sure the dog is fine,” he told me.

  I raised my bound hands to poke his chest. “Do you really think we’re for it?”

  “It’s not so grim,” he said.

  I gave a short, bitter laugh. “It is. We’ve got twelve hours to sail to Sidon and a few hours after that to reach Djoun. And when we do and you can’t find the gold, they’ll kill us.”

  “They’ll try,” he said lightly.

  I turned, muffling a sob on his chest. “I don’t want to die,” I told him. “There are too many things I haven’t done. Plus, I quite like living.”

  “Well, so do I,” he replied. “There, now, stop snivelling. You’re getting my shirt wet and it’s already foul enough as it is.”

  I raised my wet face, and somehow—I never understood quite how he managed it—he was kissing me.

  After a long, intoxicating moment, he drew back, smacking his lips. �
�Salty, but delectable,” he murmured.

  “Sebastian, be serious,” I told him sharply.

  His tone was wounded. “I am serious. Your tears are stinging the cut he left on my lip. But as kisses go, it wasn’t half-bad. I imagine it could be quite good indeed if you applied yourself.”

  I opened my mouth to blast him, but he had other ideas, and I discovered Sebastian could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it. I found myself kissing him back, far more enthusiastically than I had ever kissed Gerald, and the results were staggering. I was hot and then cold, shivering and breathless one minute and panting the next.

  “Move just a little to the left,” he instructed at one point.

  “Do you like that?” I asked huskily.

  “No,” he said in a rasping voice. “You were grabbing my bullet wound.”

  I started to apologise, but he smothered it with another kiss and I gave myself up to it. There was every chance this was going to be our last night on earth, and if it was, I argued with myself, why not make the most of it?

  The fact that our hands were still bound slowed us down, but only a little. Sebastian proved to have boundless ingenuity, and although the corset was immovable, he managed quite nicely in spite of it.

  When we had finished, in a tangle of robes and ropes and garments still half-fastened, he collapsed, his head pillowed on my chest. I touched his hair lightly. “Are you quite all right?”

  “Mmmm.” He groaned. “Rather. Do apologise for the sleepiness. I expect my sex-tides are just low,” he said with a snicker.

  His weight was slack and from the movement of his chest, I could tell he’d fallen asleep. I gave him a good shove, but he didn’t move, and I did not entirely mind. His silky beard brushed my neck, and his warm breath flowed in and out over my skin as he slept. I cradled him and I felt a new tenderness for Sebastian. He had been my partner in this adventure, and while he had been grim and boorish at times when things were going well, our present predicament seemed to bring out the best in him. He was cheerful in the worst possible circumstances, buoying my spirits with his optimism and sunny disposition. And just when I had felt at my lowest ebb, defeated and worn, he had distracted me with warmth and companionship.