The paper bills plastered along the city streets announced Bonaparte’s triumphant return to Paris. Louis XVIII had abdicated his throne without hesitation and Colin was frustrated enough to ride into France and kill the new Emperor with his bare hands.
He visited the solicitor and the terms of the old earl’s will were finalized. At last, St. George was his. Fully. When he left, he walked a little taller. In this, he had done well.
The meeting with Scovell was blessedly brief. Colin was to sail to Belgium before the month was out. The usual sense of excitement, the chase for glory, and the challenge of the battle were all gone. He had pledged his service to his country, and he would serve it well. But he would be damned if his remains would be buried on some isolated hillside in Belgium.
He was coming home to his wife.
However, before he set one foot in foreign dirt, he would discover who had wanted his wife killed and if they were still intent on such black-hearted diablerie. So he returned to the Dog and Duck to find out if Mr. Harper had broken his word. This time, the man would not escape so easily. Today he had no patience for a greasy-plumed puttock who would sell his heart to the man with the fattest purse.
He donned his worn coat and peasant hat, and covered his boots with mud. Giles would bluster and bounce ponderously over the mess, but he would recover in time. He always did.
Colin visited four public houses before he finally located Harper. He took a chair next to him and shoved his flintlock against the man’s well-fed side.
“Hello, Harper. I hope you’ve had a nice day up until now. I’m afraid it’s about to turn very nasty.”
Harper looked up from his ale, foam dribbling down his chin, panic in his eyes. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I haven’t done nothing.” His hand slid under the table, but Colin moved quickly, grabbed Harper’s stubby fingers, not wanting to discover what the man had been reaching for.
“The two maggots that attacked my wife were not your doing?” Not feeling the least bit benevolent, Colin ground the barrel against the man’s kidneys. “Why should I believe you?”
“For God’s sake, man, it’s the truth! I swear.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell me what the men looked like. Maybe I can help you.”
Satisfied, Colin leaned back in his chair. “That’s the spirit. One was a thin man, with shaggy blond hair. He was killed in a coaching accident a week ago.”
“Eustace. Never knew anything more. Kept to himself.”
“It doesn’t matter, he’s dead. But his partner. A big man. Bigger than you, Harper. Dark, lanky hair and bowlegged.”
“Don’t know that one. Sorry, sir.”
Damn. Colin laid his pistol on the table and stared at the man in disgust. “Why should I believe that you had nothing to do with my wife’s attack? Why should I believe you at all? What possible reason could I have to trust you?”
“I swear, sir. On my life. The swell didn’t offer but twenty pounds to get the job done. I’ve got better ways to make me quids, ways that won’t get me killed.” The man’s wide eyes darted toward the weapon lying on the table.
Colin bided his time, more than happy to wait and see if Harper could be trusted after all. He steepled his fingertips. “Are you married, Harper?”
The man bobbed his head.
“What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth.”
“Do you love her?”
“Very much.” Harper’s face reddened, his eyes turned hard. “I’ll not have you threaten Elizabeth. I don’t care who you are.”
Colin laughed. “Threaten? I’m not threatening your wife. I’m trying to have a conversation with you, but it seems I am failing miserably. Here’s a hundred pounds. You’ve got your face stuck in your glass like a thirsty camel when your family is waiting for you.” For Elizabeth’s sake, he hoped Harper was on the up and up, but the malevolent gleam in the man’s eye spoke very poorly of Colin’s hopes.
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out of here. Go home. Take care of your wife. If you’ve lied, I’ll be back. You’ve used up all your chances, Harper. There won’t be any more.” Perhaps Harper would pay attention and learn something. Colin picked up his weapon and tucked it away, then got up to leave.
Then he heard it. Half-cock. The metallic click that a soldier learned to recognize in order to live. He turned, staring at the old pistol Harper held in his hand. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll not have you coming in here every time your wife trips over her foot and keelhauling me for it. I’m afraid of no man.” Harper spit on the floor.
Colin shook his head, wanting nothing more than to be able to leave this wretched place. “Harper, sit down. You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re about.” Which made the weapon all the more dangerous.
Harper had apparently chosen this moment to learn bravery. “No, gov’ner. I’m going to kill you.”
There had been a time in Colin’s life when he would have fired a shot without hesitation, thinking nothing of taking the man’s life. Today he simply felt old. “Harper, put down your pistol. You won’t survive this.”
The idiot laughed. “Sorry, gov’ner, you’re wrong.” Harper let the hammer fall, but Colin moved to the left, pulling his pistol free and firing.
He never missed.
Harper stumbled to the floor, blood pooling from the hole in his chest. Several of the patrons moved away, but most simply resumed their drinking. Colin glanced toward the innkeeper wondering whether there would be trouble, but apparently these were typical circumstances for the crowd that frequented here.
Colin picked up the money he had given to Harper, and stuffed it in the innkeeper’s palm. The man never blinked an eye. “I’m looking for a man.”
The innkeeper bobbed his head, looking anxiously about the room. “I heard your talking. It’s Roberts, John Roberts.”
Colin sighed in relief. At last, the dragon had a name. John Roberts was a dead man. “Where can I find him?”
“He comes here some, but not too often. He likes the ladies. There’s a nugging house on the east side you might find him at on a cold night. Talk to the arch doxy there.”
Colin added a few guineas to the pile in the man’s hand. “Half is for the mess. The other is for his Elizabeth.” He tipped his hat and left, wanting badly to be home. Unfortunately, there was much left to do.
The Red Nobbin was a small establishment full of women of all shapes and sizes, and all with little modesty. Most wandered the front room with a swagger that spoke of boredom rather than seduction, their blouses low or missing altogether, Some were attired in ruffled knickers rather than dresses, quite an interesting fashion that Colin wasn’t sure he understood.
Only one other man besides Colin was brave enough to breach the walls during the day, and the poor man seemed to be passed out on a nearby chair. The main room overflowed with furniture that looked to be capable of telling many a tale. The couch was worn from much use and covered with stains that Colin felt no compulsion to investigate further. Several chair arms had been broken in half. The room reeked of tobacco, sex, and suffocating perfume that followed him whenever he moved about. He pulled at his collar, anxious to find out what he could and then beat a hasty retreat.
He ordered a glass of beer and a buxom woman with heavy, dark hair propped herself against his arm, stroking his sleeve in a persistent manner.
“I’m looking for John Roberts.”
The fingers stopped their stroking and her eyes narrowed to slits. “What you wanting him for?”
“I’d like to hire him for some work. I’m told he’s very good. One of the girls here is his favorite, is that correct?” He pressed a few guineas into her leathery hand.
The gold appeased her and she tucked the money away into her blouse. “Talk to Annie. She’s over there.”
Colin made his way across the room, trying to ignore the curious gazes that followed him. Annie was a small woman, skinny and pale, who spent more time looking at the
floor than at the rest of the world. He cleared his throat. “Annie?”
Without saying a word, she led him to a shabby room upstairs, trudging along, her skirt hanging limply over thin hips. He followed quickly, wanting to be seen by as few as possible. When she finally spoke, it was in a thin voice, reciting a listing of her services and the appropriate fees.
“Actually I’m looking for information. There’s a man I believe you know. John Roberts.”
She shook her head, strands of tangled brown hair falling in her eyes.
Colin scrubbed his forehead in frustration, feeling the onslaught of a headache. “I’ll pay whatever you want. I need to know where to find him.”
“He’ll kill me,” she replied flatly. “I’ll not be wagging my tongue like a sap skull.” Silently she began to straighten the covers on the iron bedstead that occupied the room, her fingers moving without hesitation.
“After I find him, you needn’t fear him again.” He spoke softly to her and leaned against the thin walls, hearing the fervent swearing of a man occupying a woman next door. He moved away. This was not what he came for.
“You’re aiming to kill him?” Her mouth curled into a sneer. It made him uncomfortable to see such a harsh expression on her serene face, but he answered her truthfully.
“Yes, I am.”
She stopped her work, watching him carefully. “John’s a scaly bastard. You’ll not survive.”
His heritage made him far worse than Mr. Roberts. He smiled. “You’ve no reason to worry for me.”
She clucked her tongue, pulled at the bedcovers, smoothing her hands over the blanket, and then pulling again, repeating the feat until finally not a wrinkle remained. “It’ll cost you five quid and you must remain here for the hour. The girls will know something’s amiss if I show myself downstairs too early. I’ll not have John hearing of this.”
Colin nodded. “Where is he?”
“He keeps a room on Bunhill Row. Up near the top of the building.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “He spends most of his nights away.”
“I’ll find him,” Colin answered easily. He would find him, discover who had hired him, who wanted Sarah dead, and then he would kill the man. “Thank you for your help.”
A timid smile lit her face and she was almost pretty for a moment, but then the smile disappeared, leaving the toilworn countenance once more in place. She stood awkwardly, shuffling from one foot to the other. “Why you wanting him dead? Does he owe you money? He’s been crowing about the blunt he’ll be gettin’ soon, wanting to find the rascal that owes him. Is that what you’re about?”
“There’s no money involved. He hurt someone that’s very important to me.”
She grinned. “A woman, aye? John ain’t never bothered with killing on my account. She must be a plum piece.”
“She is.” He didn’t think Sarah would like being referred to in such terms, but it was the truth after all.
“And you treat her like a queen.”
“Not nearly as well as I should.” He still had much to repair, and he would begin as soon as he returned home. Home. He wanted to be there, liked being there; no longer was it just a hiding place.
“I don’t believe you’d be treating any woman badly. You’ve got gentle eyes.”
They were his father’s eyes and they were far from gentle. He smiled politely. “Thank you.”
Her eyes flickered over the bed, and noticing another wrinkle, she pulled at the blanket. “What did you do to her? If you don’t mind me asking, that is?”
He’d made love to his wife like an idiot. Not that he would ever confess that to anyone. Especially a woman who was a professional at making love.A professional . He paused in his thoughts and considered that. Someone who knew so much more than he did.
And she was a woman. She would know. The thought was very tempting. Was it worth holding himself up to her ridicule and embarrassment in order to wring a few well-pleasured sighs from his wife’s well-shaped mouth. Of course it was. “May I ask you something?”
“Whatever you want. It’s your money.”
He swallowed. “You’ve been with men before. That is, it’s your livelihood, so I’m not attempting to insult you.”
“I ain’t no virgin, if that’s what you’re dancing round to ask. There’s a girl downstairs that can be a virgin if you’re wanting a bit of sport. It’s extra and a bit messy, but she’s an actress and likes the practice.”
He shook his head quickly. “No, I’d like to ask you a question.” His tongue seemed rather large inside his mouth and he couldn’t quite find the words he was searching for.
She seemed to enjoy his discomfort. “Go ahead. Spit it out.”
Finally, he drew a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Can a man pleasure you? No, that’s not exactly what I meant. What can a man do to bring physical satisfaction to a woman? Something to make her feel extraordinary?”
With a slack jaw she stared, finally dropping on the bed. “You’re asking me, a whore, how a woman finds her pleasure?”
She giggled, making him feel like a schoolboy, but he stood firm. “Surely some man has made you feel something. It would certainly seem unfair if they hadn’t.”
She thought for a moment and then a slow smile emerged. “There were some.”
So a womancould experience the same things a man did. That dizzying rapture that made him feel extraordinary. “What did he do?”
Her smile widened and she lifted her skirts. “I can teach you.”
He held up his hand. “No, no. Can you justtell me?”
“A shy one, aye? She’s a lucky one, your sweetheart.” She looked at him then, the way Sarah gazed at him, as if he was worthy. He had always looked away from a woman’s eyes. But a man could grow accustomed to that look. She seemed to think nothing of it and continued. “A woman needs time to ready herself. Men are always wanting things fast, as if they was at the races. No reason to rush, though. A man should stroke her, kiss her, and go slowly about your business. When she’s ready, then you mount her.” She shot him a wry look. “That’s what a man issupposed to do.”
Stroking Sarah, kissing Sarah, mounting Sarah.God, he was getting dizzy again. He leaned back against the wall and this time ignored the noises on the other side. “Do you know when you’re ready? How does a man know?”
She shrugged. “You just do.” Then she thought a little harder. “No, you can test her with your fingers first.” She laid back and pillowed her head on her hands. “A man’s fingers can work magic if he’s gentle with a woman. Just like a wizard and his wand, weaving this way and that. Aye, there’s nothing like it.”
From the blissful expression on her face, Colin realized this was very important. He waited, wanting to hear more. He wanted to surprise Sarah, kiss her, stroke her . . . The room began to spin and he shook his head until the spinning stopped.
“There was one gent, a Frenchman, and he used his tongue inside me. Nearly leapt to the ceiling, I did, when I realized what he was about.” She stretched like a contented cat. “But I’ll never forget him.”
The door to the room opened and an older woman poked her head inside. “Oh! Apologies to all. I’ll be leaving you.”
“No, no, come in.” Annie looked at Colin and nodded wisely. “This is the one you want to be talking to.”
The woman cocked her hand in interest, and then entered, settling herself in a chair, her back straight, like a schoolmarm. A schoolmarm in a nunnery, though it did seem appropriate.
“You’re wagging your tongue? Wasting this man’s time?” The woman’s voice was rough and grating, a woman used to being obeyed.
“No, you don’t understand. He’s asking how to pleasure a woman.”
Colin coughed lightly. “I think you’ve answered most of my questions. I’ll be on my way.”
“No, no, you should talk to Camilla. She can tell you more than I ever could.”
The older woman stared until he felt the heat of a blush creeping up his cheeks
. Finally she laughed, a high, cackling sound that caused Colin to wince. “It’s the quiet ones that are always the best, ain’t it though.” She wagged a finger at him, once more the schoolmarm. “You’ll need a pen and paper, boy, or are you thinking you’ll remember this?”
Tossing the remains of his pride at her feet like a pagan sacrifice, he nodded grimly. “I’ll remember.” This was for Sarah after all.
“It’ll cost you dearly.”
“I’m willing to pay.”
“Don’t plan on her squealing with delight the first few rounds, but you’ll learn soon enough. Just keep after it, and in time, she’ll be trailing after you like a bitch in heat.”
He had always been a quick learner. For Sarah’s sake, he would try just a little bit harder. It would be his most undeniable pleasure. He smiled. “Of course.”
Colin stayed at Bunhill Row until the sun was setting, but John Roberts was nowhere to be found. Nor had anyone seen him. That made Colin very uncomfortable. Where was the man and what was he doing? He had thought Sarah was secure at Rosemont. All the accidents had been in the city. Perhaps he had made a mistake. However, Etiénne was there and he could take care of Sarah. The grounds were sealed as tightly as a fortress, and no one could advance on her without being seen. No, she was safe.
However, he had found part of the answers he was seeking. Etiénne could return to London and watch for Roberts. Colin would stay by his wife’s side. He coaxed Beowulf into a trot, wanting to be home before Sarah was asleep.
He wanted to see her, talk to her, let her beat him at cards. Most of all, he wanted to hear her say she loved him once more. Good God, how did he ever get so lucky? He wouldn’t question the fate, merely accept it, and hope she hadn’t changed her mind while he was gone. But Sarah was no mere schoolgirl, who would turn her heart at a turn in the weather. No, only something of momentous proportion would cause a change in her feelings.
Like the truth.
That was a sobering thought.
He pushed it aside quickly. He had fooled everyone but the old earl. But Colin was older now, he had shed the skin of his father, and no one would be the wiser. Sarah loved the DragonSlayer. And for that, he could pretend for the rest of his life.
Touched by Fire Page 24