Dark Rider

by Iris Johansen

  “If you’re going, I’m going with you.”

  “To protect me from Raoul?” He shook his head. “Not this time.”

  “But you’ll need me.”

  “It’s too dangerous. Raoul was always clever. I didn’t realize how clever. I’ve no doubt he’ll have gained back all his influence under Napoleon’s regime.”

  “All the more reason for me to go.” She turned back toward the cottage. “Wait for me here. I’ll just go tell Lani that—”

  “No, Cassandra.” His tone was frighteningly final.

  “If you leave me here, I’ll just follow you to the ship,” she called after him.

  “Then I’ll tell the Captain you’re not to be permitted on board.” He started down the road. The smile he gave her over his shoulder lit his face with sweetness. “Don’t be so concerned, ma chou. Nothing will happen to me. I’ll be back almost before you realize I’m gone.”

  “Papa!”

  He did not look back again.

  Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, she watched him walk away from her. Why would he not listen? She had never seen him this resolute. She had always been able to sway him on matters of importance, and yet in this question, which might mean life and death, he stood firm. Should she follow him to the ship? No, it would be a waste of time.

  But she could not just let him go alone to face that snake. Her father was a dreamer, and dreamers could be easily fooled. The hunter could well become the hunted.

  When he was out of sight, she moved heavily up the path toward the cottage. She could not let him go into danger alone, but she could not see her way clear to stop it. She would have to think about it. In the meantime she must make sure Danemount did not interfere with her father’s departure. Cambre was a distant threat; the Englishman was the immediate danger.

  Lani was sitting on the veranda and rose to her feet when she saw Cassie. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

  “I met Papa on the path.” She glanced worriedly at the Englishmen. Lani had tucked quilts over them and placed pillows beneath their heads. They did not look ill, only peacefully asleep. “Are they all right? The laudanum wasn’t—”

  “It was not too much,” Lani assured her. “Their sleep is very light. I was even worried they would wake before you got back and follow you to the village.”

  “Really?” She frowned. “We can’t let them leave before morning. Papa is sailing for France at midnight tonight.”

  Lani did not look surprised. “Then you’re right—we must make sure he gets away and out of their reach.”

  Cassie suddenly realized Lani might be hurt that her father had been so near and made no attempt to bid her farewell. “He was in a great hurry. He’ll be back as soon as he can. He needs to find a man who can—”

  “Hush.” Lani smiled. “You don’t need to defend Charles to me. I know he would not desert me. He’s a good man and he cares for my happiness.”

  Cassie felt a rush of relief. Of course he would not abandon Lani. She had not realized until this moment how Danemount’s words regarding her father’s relationship with Lani had disturbed her. She would never have been as tolerant as Lani in the same circumstances. “He made arrangements for us to be cared for by Kamehameha.”

  “Which is not going to be necessary,” Lani guessed shrewdly. “Is it?”

  She shook her head. “But he won’t let me go with him, and France is far away. It’s going to be difficult.”

  “We will find another way.” Lani moved toward the door. “I’ll go tell the old one the English have fallen asleep out here and not to disturb them. It’s fortunate she wishes not to displease them; she may actually obey me. I’ll be back soon and we’ll take turns watching them.”

  “No, I’ll do it. You stay inside and make sure Clara doesn’t come out to the veranda.”

  Danemount suddenly stirred.

  Cassie stiffened in alarm, but he didn’t open his eyes. Thank the Lord. She was not prepared to confront him yet. “Lani, would it be possible for you to go to the stable and bring some rope?”

  Lani nodded. “Good idea. I’ll see if I can get past the guards in the garden.”

  After Lani left, Cassie slowly sat down in a cushioned chair and gazed at Danemount’s face. Even in sleep he looked guarded and dangerous. What would he be like when he woke?

  She would have to worry about that later. She had other concerns right now. She leaned her head against the back of the chair and tried to relax. She had a little time before the Englishman woke, and she would spend it trying to find a solution to the problem facing them.

  Danemount stirred three times in the hours that followed. Cassie tensed on every occasion but then relaxed when he returned to sleep. It was near three in the morning before he finally opened his eyes.

  She held her breath as she saw his drowsiness vanish. “My God, you poisoned me.”

  “I did not,” she said quickly. “I only drugged you.”

  “Only?”

  “It was necessary.”

  “I’m sure Lucrezia Borgia said the same after she used her poison ring.”

  Lucrezia. That was whom he had meant when he had called her by that name. “Lani said that there’s some doubt Lucrezia Borgia ever used poison, and I certainly did not. I only used a few drops of laudanum in the syllabub to put you to sleep.”

  “Laudanum? That can be a dangerous potion. How did you know how much was safe to give us?”

  She squared her shoulders, prepared for battle. “I didn’t know. I took a chance.”

  “I suppose I should count myself fortunate to wake at all,” he said with lethal softness. He glanced at the still-slumbering Bradford. “Is he alive?”

  “Of course he is. He should wake soon.”

  “He had better.” His gaze moved back to her. “Or you’ll join him in his sleep.”

  Dear God, he was angry. His voice was low, almost silky, his face without expression, but she could sense an icy rage beneath that composure. “Threats will do you no good. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You should be. If you knew my— What the devil!” He had started to sit up and discovered the cords around his wrists. He went rigid. “You’ve bound me!”

  His rage was no longer controlled, and she tried to ignore the fear that spiraled through her. “Yes, both wrists and ankles.” She added with bravado, “Trussed like a pig for the roasting.”

  He stopped struggling. “Or for the assassin’s knife? When do you expect your father, Madam Borgia?”

  “I’m not—” She broke off and drew a deep breath. “And my father would never kill a helpless man.”

  “No more than his daughter would chance killing a man with a potion she knows nothing about.”

  “Would you have stood by and let someone set a trap for a person you loved without trying to stop him?”

  “I would have tried to find—” He wearily shook his head. “No, I suppose I would have done the same.”

  His honesty took her off guard, and a little of her anger ebbed. “I tried to be careful with the laudanum,” she said haltingly.

  “How comforting.” His lips twisted. “You didn’t answer. When do you expect your father?”

  “I don’t. I’ve already seen him.” She paused. “And by now he’s no longer on the island.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “No, you’ll probably go to Kamehameha and question the islanders and waste a good deal of time. It will do you little good. Kamehameha wanted my father safe and arranged to send him away.”

  He studied her. “By God, I believe you’re telling the truth. Now, why would you tell me he’s no longer here? It would give him a head start if I searched this island first before going to the other islands.”

  “Because I don’t want him to have too much of a head start.”

  Surprise flickered in his expression. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  “I wanted him to go to Maui, but he wouldn’t do it. He sailed for Bos
ton at midnight. From there he’ll make his way to France.”

  “Indeed,” he murmured. “Now, why did he do that?”

  “Raoul Cambre.”

  His expression hardened. “Ah, yes, like to like. He went running to beg help from his fellow conspirator.”

  “He’s not like that man,” she said fiercely. “And he didn’t go for help. He went to see if he was wrong in his judgment of Cambre. He wanted to know if—” She broke off as she saw his skeptical expression. She would never be able to convince him of anything he didn’t want to believe. “What difference does it make why he went? You don’t care.”

  “But I do care where he’s hiding. Where in France?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you have an idea.”

  “Perhaps.” She had pitifully few scraps of information garnered from that long-ago encounter with Cambre, and only one name—Jacques-Louis David. She was not even sure the artist was still alive. “Perhaps not.”

  “Now the pertinent question. Why tell me anything at all?”

  “Because I couldn’t afford to have you waste time here when we could be on our way to France.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. “We?”

  She took a deep breath and then said in a rush, “I’m going with you.”

  His expression remained impassive. “I don’t believe you were invited. Why should I be interested in taking you with me?”

  She had known he would ask that question and was prepared. “For the same reason you were keeping me prisoner here. I’d be a hostage to draw my father into your net.”

  “My, how accommodating you’ve become. You’re now willing to be bait for the trap?”

  “No, I’ll escape at the earliest opportunity. I’m merely telling you what advantage you’d see in taking me. I didn’t say that it would be a true advantage.”

  He looked taken aback, and then the faintest smile quirked his lips. “I see. You wish to use me and then flee.”

  She nodded. “Few ships stop here, and it might be months before I’d be able to follow my father to France.”

  “And why would you want to follow him?”

  “I don’t want my father destroyed. I don’t trust Cambre.”

  “Nor me.”

  “Of course not.”

  “So you intend to save him from both of us.” He shook his head. “You won’t succeed.”

  “I will.”

  “Shall I let you try?” He tilted his head as if to consider it. “Untie me and we’ll discuss it.”

  She shook her head.

  “Why not?” he asked softly. “If your father has really left the island, then you have nothing to fear.”

  “Not until dawn. I want to make sure he’s well away before I let you go.”

  The answer clearly did not please him. “I dislike intensely being bound like this,” he said through his teeth. “I have no fondness for feeling helpless.”

  She could see he didn’t. A man of his control would hate being robbed of it, but it was the strength of his response that she found most unusual. He appeared to resent the ropes more than the drugging. “At dawn.”

  “No, by God. Now. I won’t—” He broke off as he saw her stubborn expression. “I could cry out and bring the guards from the garden.”

  “And I could put your pillow over your face and smother any sound.” She added desperately, “I wouldn’t want to do it, but you would force me.”

  “I seem to be the complete villain. I force you to poison me and then to smother me.”

  “Not you, only any sound, and I did not poison—But you are a villain.”

  “I certainly can be.” He leaned back on the pillow. “You have no idea of the scope of my villainy. But I believe you may have the opportunity to learn.”

  Her heart gave a leap. “You’ll take me with you?”

  “Oh, yes.” His blue eyes glinted recklessly in the moonlight. “If Deville is on his way to France, then I definitely need a hostage.”

  “I’ve told you the truth.”

  “Or you could be leading me away from him the way you did on the mountain.”

  She sighed resignedly. “You’re going to waste time questioning the islanders.”

  “Forgive my suspicious nature, but I’d be a bit foolish to trust a woman who has deceived me, drugged me, and threatened to smother me.”

  She frowned. “I suppose you’re right.”

  He gazed at her in astonishment, then started to laugh. “Suppose?” He looked down at his bound wrists, and his smile faded. “I’m going to remember this, you know. I’m a man who believes in revenge.”

  She moistened her lips. “I’d be a fool not to realize that fact by now.”

  “I’m going to sit here and look at these ropes …” He raised his eyes to her face. “And I’m going to think of all the ways a man can make a woman helpless. I know a great many, Cassie. Shall I mention a few?”

  She felt heat burn her cheeks. “No.”

  “You prefer to be surprised?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “It’s very unwise of you to go with me. I have no intention of treating you with honor. Do you understand?”

  “I have no choice. I have to go with you.”

  “Do you understand?” he persisted.

  “I’m not stupid. You mean you intend to rut with me.”

  “At the earliest opportunity.”

  “Because you wish to punish me.”

  “Partly.” His gaze roamed from her face to her breasts. “And partly because I’ve wondered how tight you’d feel around me since the moment I saw you on the beach.”

  She felt the muscles of her stomach clench, and for a moment she was robbed of speech.

  He looked down at the cords around his wrists. “It would go easier for you when we come together, if you’d take these off. They make me angry and I’ll remember, Cassie.” His gaze lifted and he said softly, “I’ll remember how helpless I feel and the frustration and the rage. Believe me, you don’t want that.”

  “It’s not going to happen. I won’t let you—” She met his gaze and shook her head. “And I won’t take off the ropes. Not until dawn.”

  “As you like.” He closed his eyes. “But I believe you’ll regret it.”

  Silence. No sound but the night birds in the trees. It seemed impossible, but she thought he had actually fallen back asleep. How could he relax when she was so tense she felt as if she would break apart with every breath?

  “He’s not worth it, you know.”

  She jumped, her gaze flying to his face.

  His lids had lifted to reveal those cold eyes. How foolish to believe he might have been asleep. He had only been trying to subdue his frustration and gathering strength for another foray. He added roughly, “He’s a coward and a murderer. Forget him. Stay here in this tropical Eden and raise your goddamn horses.”

  “He’s not a murderer. He couldn’t do anything like that.”

  “Not by his own hand. I told you he was a coward. Judas. How many pieces of silver did he receive, Cassie?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean Danjuet. What else could I mean? Why did he—” He broke off as he saw her expression. “My God, you don’t know. He didn’t tell you.”

  “I’m sure there was nothing to tell.”

  “Christ, he didn’t tell you.” He laughed incredulously. “He let you risk your life on that mountain, and he didn’t bother to tell you why.”

  “He would have told me,” she defended. “There wasn’t time.”

  “Fourteen years.”

  “He wanted to put everything in France behind him.” She added quickly, “But not because he did anything wrong.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  God’s will.

  She tried to block out her father’s words. She could not believe him capable of any real sin. “It’s not possible. He’s kind and gentle.”

  “Judas.”

  �
��No!”

  “I saw him.” His tone was relentless. “I know it.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  “How can you judge when you don’t know anything about Danjuet. Shall I tell you?”

  “I wouldn’t believe you. It would be lies.”

  “I don’t lie.” He smiled crookedly. “And unlike your dear father, I think it only fair you know the man for whom you’re staking so much.”

  Is he a just man? her father had asked her.

  She had answered in the affirmative, but she did not want to admit Danemount’s fairness now if it was coupled with this merciless hardness.

  “Are you afraid to hear the truth?” he taunted.

  “What you say is truth.”

  “Then judge for yourself.” His gaze held hers as his words spiked out with hammered precision. “Danjuet was the home of my father’s cousin, Paul Brasnier, Compte de Talaisar and his wife, Gabrielle. During the madness when aristocrats were being butchered at every turn, he couldn’t believe it would happen to him. He wanted to stay in the land of his birth and thought the madness would run its course before it touched him. His wife had borne him a child two years before, and she insisted the babe was too frail to travel. My father decided to go to France to convince them to flee to England before it was too late. We arrived at Danjuet the night the neighboring estate was burned to the ground and the owner taken in chains to Paris for execution.” He smiled sardonically. “It was enough to sober even cousin Paul. He agreed to allow my father to arrange transport for his family and himself. Before leaving England my father had taken the precaution of obtaining the name and address of a young artist who had been helpful in aiding the escape of another family a year earlier. Charles Deville.

  “He sent for him. In the meantime we hid in a small secret room in the dungeon of the château. Deville came; he agreed to give us his help and set the escape plans in motion. My father had arranged to have a ship anchored in a cove off the coast, but we had to get there. It took two weeks before Deville completed the forged documents, and another two days to bribe the border guards. Then we were ready to go.” He paused. “I remember Deville looked very somber when I looked back at him from the window of the carriage. I thought it was only concern. Your father was so very charming. None of us even suspected him of villainy.”