The Beloved Scoundrel

Chapter 8

C HAPTER 8

January 12, 1812 Cambaron

D on’t put it there!” Marianna rushed across the hall and took the narrow panel away from Gregor, who was striding toward the dining room. “I want it for a wall decoration to complement the flower dome in the ballroom.”

“You did not tell me,” Gregor said mildly. “You have these panels all over Cambaron.” He looked at the panel. “It is very pretty, but I thought you were tired of doing flowers.”

She shrugged. “Flowers are fine for a ballroom. They don’t mean anything but beauty, and people like to look at them.”

“Not like the tiger you did for the window in the hall.” Gregor grinned. “I caught a glimpse of it with the sunset behind it the other evening, and I would swear it was going to pounce on me.”

“Excellent.” Marianna smiled. “Then the work is good. Let’s hope the guests tonight will think my dome of flowers is equally realistic.” Her smile faded and became wistful. “I almost wish I could be there to see it.”

“You see it every day. You’ve been working on the dome for almost three years.”

“It’s not the same. I’ve been imagining how it would be with all the dancers…they’d look like flowers themselves swaying beneath it.” She knew the dream was impossible. Young girls still in the schoolroom did not attend balls, and she had become resigned to the idea that she remain the eternal child, if Alex was to remain safe from the hurtful gibes. She had been kept away from society as much as possible during these last three years, but she had found Dorothy’s and Gregor’s assessment of the shallow cruelty of the ton more than accurate. Only Dorothy’s position and bold intervention had kept the poison from touching them. She tried to smile. “Oh well, you can tell me about it tomorrow.” She held up the panel to the light and shook her head. “This won’t do. It’s not good enough.”

“It’s very pretty,” he protested.

“It’s common. I’ll use the one I did last month.” She raised her voice. “Robert!”

When the young footman came running, she handed him the panel. “Put it in the storeroom in the stable and fetch me the jasmine panel from the tower.”

“Jasmine?” he asked in bewilderment.

“The white flowers.”

He nodded and set off on the errand at a fast trot.

“You have enough discarded panels in that storeroom to grace every window at Prinny’s palace at Brighton,” Gregor commented.

She shrugged. “I may use them someday. Are the torches ready?”

“Of course.”

“What if it rains?” she asked in sudden panic. “Or snows? It snowed yesterday. Why couldn’t it be an afternoon party? The dome would be much lovelier in sunlight.”

“Because Jordan invited everyone for a ball tonight,” Gregor said patiently.

“And then doesn’t even bother to come until the last minute.”

“He’s been in Sweden for the past two months. He returned to London only two days ago.”

Marianna knew that but she did not feel like being reasonable. “I’m surprised he didn’t bring the crown prince with him if he found him so entertaining. Or perhaps it was that crown princess Desiree. Dorothy says she’s very charming.”

“It was the crown prince.” His eyes twinkled. “And I don’t believe even Aphrodite would keep Jordan in that cold country if he didn’t think it necessary.”

“If he doesn’t like the cold, why tell Dorothy he wants a ball in the middle of winter?”

“Why do you think?”

“How do I know what he is thinking? He comes, he goes. He does exactly what he pleases. He has no—”

“I told him your dome was finished. He wished to honor your work.”

She felt the heat in her cheeks as her gaze flew to Gregor’s face. “Truly?”

He nodded. “He has great pride in your work.”

“He never told me,” she whispered.

“Haven’t you noticed he has difficulty talking about anything he feels deeply about? Does he not let you have your way in all things to do with Cambaron?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat of the sudden tightness. He was proud of her. She had pleased him. The thought meant too much, and she had to make light of it. “But he came close to missing this fine ball he’s giving to honor my work.”

“I know you regard it as only a small matter, but he was trying to convince Sweden to repudiate Napoleon and join in the Alliance.”

Then it would probably come to pass, she thought. During the past three years she had caught brief glimpses of a Jordan Draken who was entirely different from the man she had met in Montavia and the man who came so rarely to Cambaron. The brilliant, complex man who hopscotched over Europe and manipulated events to suit himself was an enigma to her. Gregor had told her it had been Jordan who had convinced Napoleon’s trusted General Barvoir to betray the emperor and come over to the Alliance. He had also hinted that the failure of the banks of Lyons that had almost caused France’s economic collapse last year could also be laid at the duke’s door. She suppressed a shiver as she thought of the single-minded obsessiveness that would engineer such destruction.

“Why does he hate Napoleon so much?”

Gregor shrugged. “Many people in England hate Napoleon.”

He was evading her. “Why does he hate him?” she repeated.

Gregor hesitated and then said, “You are right. Jordan’s hatred is entirely personal. He is threatening Jordan’s possessions, and that is not permitted.”

She frowned, puzzled. “Possessions in Kazan?”

“And here at Cambaron.”

“He cares nothing for Cambaron.”

“Because he denies any affection? I thought you saw more clearly than to believe him.”

Who could see deeply into Jordan when he was always armored? “You are saying he lies.”

“I am saying he hates above all things the idea of being chained by affection and so will not admit it even to himself. To Jordan such an admission has always been linked to possession, and he has always regarded that as a danger.”

“Why?”

“What he has is his forever. It becomes a passion, an obsession. Jordan knows he must protect Kazan and Cambaron to the death because his nature will let him do nothing less. Napoleon is a threat that will be removed.” He turned away. “I must ask Dorothy if she needs my help. She is crazed by all these preparations.”

She did not want him to leave when she was receiving answers to questions that had tantalized her for years. “Gregor, how is—”

He had already left the room. He always walked away either physically or mentally if he did not wish to answer questions. In truth, perhaps he had told her more this time than she wanted to hear.

The picture he had drawn of Jordan’s relentless obsession for protecting his own was chilling. A man who would attempt to topple an empire to bring down one man would not cavil over doing anything to gain his ends.

Gregor had not really told her why Jordan had chosen dead winter for this ball, she remembered with a sense of foreboding, and there had been that odd instant of hesitation in him when she had asked. Gregor may have spoken truth regarding Jordan’s pride in her work, but this ball could also mean something else entirely. She had been growing increasingly uneasy this past year. Events were moving too quickly; everyone knew Napoleon was preparing to attack Russia. The clock may have run out for her, and this ball was the final chiming of their period of tranquillity.

Well, she had known this time would come. She had even prepared for it. She should begin to think of leaving Cambaron.

No, not yet. Perhaps there was no need to hurry. Jordan was evidently having extraordinary success in his attempts to undermine Napoleon, and he might not even need the Jedalar to accomplish his purpose. Her work was going well. Alex was happy here.

She was happy here.

She did not want to leave Gregor and Dorothy. She had grown accustomed to this place. Jordan might not have any sentiment for Cambaron, but to her it was now as much home as the cottage where she had been born.

Besides, the stained-glass dome was an accomplishment she wanted to share. She wanted to see Jordan’s face when he saw what she had given to Cambaron. After the ball, after Jordan came, she would think about leaving.

After Jordan came.

C ome upstairs with me, Gregor.” Jordan tossed his hat and riding gloves to a footman and strode toward the steps. “I must dress. If I’m late for this ball, Dorothy will throw me out in the snow.”

“Yes, she will.” Gregor followed him. “And I will help her. The guests are already arriving. You could have come earlier. It’s not kind to—”

“Nebrov is in Poland meeting in secret with Napoleon.”

Gregor stopped on the stairs. “You’re sure?”

“Janus sent me a message in Stockholm.”

“Does he know the content of the meetings?”

“We can guess, can’t we? He wants Napoleon to throw him Montavia and Kazan when he marches on Russia. The question being what prize has he got with which to bargain?”

Gregor started up the stairs again. “You think he’s found another way to get the Jedalar?”

“I don’t know,” he said wearily. “I was told that the only one who knew the Jedalar was the craftsman who created it. I don’t even know how Nebrov found out about its existence. Maybe he knows something else we don’t.”

“Or maybe he’s merely trying to convince Napoleon what a trusted ally he’d be.”

“I told Janus to watch Nebrov and send me word if he learned anything else. I don’t want you to let Alex out of your sight for the next few months.”

Gregor shook his head. “We’ve kept close watch. No stranger has come near Cambaron in the past three years without us knowing about it. Nebrov could not know they are here.”

“I hope not.” He shrugged. “There may be no danger. I just want to be sure we’re not taken by surprise.”

“We won’t be.” Gregor opened the door and strode into the bedchamber. “How was Sweden?”

“Cold.” He took off his riding coat and threw it on the bed. “And successful. Napoleon will find he no longer has an ally in Sweden. Bernadotte will ally with Russia in case of invasion.”

Gregor took his favorite seat in the corner facing the stained-glass window portraying Jordan’s mother. “There’s no doubt of the invasion, it’s only a matter of when, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He rang for his valet as he pulled at the folds of his cravat. “And it will be soon.” He met Gregor’s gaze in the mirror. “We’ve run out of time. I don’t know how long it will take her to create the Jedalar. I can’t wait any longer.”

Gregor stiffened. “The Alliance could defeat Napoleon without the Jedalar. You said everything was going well.”

“Napoleon has the greatest army of his career ready to march on Russia. If Russia falls, then there’s a good chance Kazan will also fall. I won’t take that chance.” He jerked open his shirt. “I’ll use any means at my disposal to prevent that from happening. I’ll give her one more chance, but I can’t afford to be patient any longer.”

Gregor was silent and then said quietly, “Do you expect me to argue with you? Kazan must not fall.” He stood up and moved toward the door. “But do not hurt her tonight. She has worked for three long years making that dome of flowers, and I’ve persuaded Dorothy to let her come to the ball to see it. Let her be happy.”

The door closed silently behind him, but his words echoed in Jordan’s mind.

Do not hurt her tonight.

A picture of Marianna came back to him as he had last seen her four months ago: childlike, innocent, eager.

His fist crashed down on the dressing table.

Goddammit!

S it still,” Dorothy said sternly. “I have to tie this ribbon in your hair.”

“Why bother? No one is going to look at me when they can look at my dome.” Marianna laughed excitedly. She felt so light and full of joy that she could have floated to the ceiling. “No one is going to look at anyone else. They’re just going to dance and stare up at my beautiful windows.”

“Then they’ll have the most horrendous cricks in their necks. There!” Dorothy took a step back and appraised the white ribbon binding up the silky golden fall of Marianna’s hair. “That looks properly Grecian. Now for the gown.” She went to the armoire. “White, as is proper for a pure young lady of fashion.”

“White, again?” Marianna made a face. “I’ve worn nothing but white for the past three years.”

“This is a different white.” She pulled out a simple high-waisted gown with a low, round décolletage. The material was of shimmering beaded silk that appeared more silver than white in the glow of the candles.

“It’s beautiful,” Marianna breathed. She reached out and tentatively touched the fabric and found it smooth and cool as window glass in winter. “But I’ve never seen it before.”

“Because Madam Bradshaw just finished it yesterday.”

Marianna turned to look at Dorothy. “You expected me to attend the ball?”

“Of course,” Dorothy said gruffly. “Gregor and I decided it would not be just to keep you from seeing your triumph. Besides, you could not remain fifteen forever. I’ve already heard a few suspicious comments. It was time you made a few discreet appearances as a young lady.” She unbuttoned Marianna’s loose gown and let it drop to the floor. “Though I fear we’ll have to whisk you away to London or Dorchester after tonight.”

“No!” The instinctive rejection revealed just how irresolute had been Marianna’s decision to leave Cambaron.

“We’ll talk of it tomorrow.” Dorothy dropped the beaded gown over Marianna’s head. “If you’d consent to use Mary’s services, I wouldn’t need to play the abigail.” She buttoned the back of the gown. “It’s most damaging to my consequence.”

“I can do it myself. I need no—” She stopped as she caught sight of herself in the cheval mirror. Her eyes widened. “I look…”

“Yes, you do.” Dorothy sighed. “And I will definitely have to take you to Dorchester tomorrow. No one in their senses would believe Jordan would live in the same house as that woman and not seduce her.”

That woman.

She was so accustomed to seeing the image of childhood projected by the loose gowns and braids that when she looked in the mirror, she was surprised to notice how her body had changed, rounded over the years. Her breasts, brimming over the fashionably low neckline, appeared almost voluptuous.

She shied away from the word. Titian’s ladies were voluptuous, she was merely a trifle…full. “Is the neckline too low?”

“It’s quite modest.” Dorothy frowned. “I thought.” She handed her a pair of long gloves. “Perhaps these will help.”

Marianna made a face as she drew on the gloves. “I feel smothered.”

Dorothy’s gaze was still on the low décolletage. “You don’t look smothered.” She turned away. “And gloves are entirely de rigueur. You will no longer be permitted out of Cambaron’s walls without them.”

“Then I shall never leave the castle. I’m much happier in my workroom anyway.” She whirled away from the mirror and hugged Dorothy. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You and Gregor are so kind. It’s such a lovely surprise.”

“But you still prefer workrooms to balls.”

“Not this ball. This is…different.”

Dorothy kissed her on the forehead and cleared her throat before proceeding to give her instructions. “You will not dance that shocking new waltz. Even at a country ball that would not be permitted without sanction. You must be all that’s shy and retiring. I’ll stay by your side all evening, but the way you look tonight even a formidable bear leader like myself may not be sufficient to lend you countenance.”

“Bear leader?”

“A spinster without a prayer,” Dorothy said ruefully. “Or so I’ve heard myself described.”

A surge of anger tore through Marianna. “If you’re a spinster, it’s because you choose to be. You’re fine and beautiful, and you have a mind that half those men in the ballroom tonight would envy. They should not—”

“Hush.” Dorothy’s hand covered Marianna’s lips. “I’m not embittered. I accept that men do not find me attractive. It’s partially my own fault. I could have made a fine marriage. I have a respectable competence, and it would be considered a great coup for any man to be connected with the duke of Cambaron. I chose the path of strength, and gentlemen prefer women to be weak and accommodating. I could not bear it.” She took a vial of perfume and dabbed a few drops on the pulse in Marianna’s throat. “Roses. Isn’t the scent fitting for your flower dome?”

“Very fitting.”

“Now, smile, or I shall not let you go down and see their faces as they view your work.”

Marianna’s spirits rose as she thought of that wonderful prospect. She whirled toward the door. “I’ll meet you on the landing. I have to show Alex how fine I look.” She smiled over her shoulder. “He won’t believe it’s me!”

M en and women in elegant apparel crowded the hall, and Marianna could hear the strains of music from the ballroom.

“Slowly,” Dorothy said as they started down the steps. “Let them see you.”

“I don’t want them to see me. I want them to see the windows.”

“And I want them to see you. You’re my handiwork and should be properly appreciated.”

Marianna caught sight of Jordan just inside the open doors of the study across the hall. He was smiling down at Lady Carlisle. Now, she was as voluptuous as even Titian could have desired, Marianna thought with a familiar flicker of annoyance. The well-endowed Catherine Carlisle was only the latest in a seemingly endless parade of women in Jordan’s life. Marianna could not remember how many had succeeded the beautiful countess of Ralbon in Jordan’s bed.

Yes, she could. She could remember every one. There was that enchanting red-haired Carolyn Dumark and then Helen Jakbar and then Elizabeth Van—

Jordan closed the doors of the study.

“Stop frowning,” Dorothy admonished.

“Is that also forbidden by the ton ?” But Dorothy was right. What did she care if Jordan chose to indulge his carnal appetites with that woman? This was a night for joy, and she would not allow anything or anyone to spoil it. “I don’t see Gregor.”

“He was going to supervise the lighting of the torches.”

“I should be doing that.”

“Not in that gown. Climbing around rooftops is definitely not acceptable behavior.”

Marianna frowned uneasily. “They’re looking at me.”

“They certainly are. Perhaps a bit too much.” Dorothy paused at the bottom of the steps before taking Marianna’s elbow and nudging her toward the ballroom. “Come along. You’re better off lost in the crush.” She searched the throng and finally made a selection. “There’s Sir Timothy Sheridan. You might find him companionable. He dabbles in poetry like your father, and he’s certainly a safe partner for the dance. He’ll only want to write a poem about your eyes and hair.”

“What?” Marianna scarcely heard the words; her enraptured gaze was on the domed-glass ceiling in the center of the room. The circle of torches Gregor had lit outside around the dome made the flowers and vines blaze with color. Purple lilacs and ivory gardenias vied with the blazing orange-red of hibiscus. Dark green vines intertwined, separating and displaying the flowers. In each of the four corners peacocks with splendid turquoise and cobalt plumage pranced majestically among the blossoms.

“I did it,” she whispered. “I did well, didn’t I?”

“You did very well. It’s beautiful,” Dorothy said gently. “Now come and let me introduce you to Sir Timothy.”

Dazed, Marianna let her lead her across the room to a fair-haired young man in the corner. The flowers above them cast exotic shadows on the gleaming floor as the dancers moved gracefully in the steps of the cotillion. The sight was everything Marianna had hoped it would be.

She cast a glance over her shoulder at the closed door of the study. Not quite everything. It would do no harm for him to leave that woman and come and tell her that her dome was every bit as good as she knew it to be.

C ome, Jordan!” Dorothy threw open the door and marched into the study. She stared intimidatingly at Catherine Carlisle, who hurriedly moved away from the duke. “You will excuse him, I know. He has many demands on his time tonight.”

It was clear to Jordan that Catherine was not pleased but chose not to engage Dorothy. Instead, she concentrated her efforts on him. “Of course.” She smiled sweetly at Jordan. “You will return soon, Your Grace?”

Dorothy whisked Jordan away before he could answer.

“And what have I done now?” Jordan asked as he straightened his cravat. “As usual, it’s clear you’re displeased with me.”

“Besides behaving in your usual shocking fashion and staying half the evening alone in that study with that bovine creature, you’ve done nothing at all,” she hissed, a smile pasted on her face. “You may go back and continue your disgusting pursuit of that demimondaine…after you tell Marianna you like what she’s done.”

He didn’t look at her. “I don’t have to tell her. Everyone is singing paeans of praise.”

“Then tell her. She has a right to hear it from you. Why have you been avoiding her?”

“Don’t pick at me, Dorothy,” he said quietly. “It’s not safe tonight.”

“Fustian. I will not have tonight less than perfect for Marianna.”

“So I’m to add my praises to those of the mob. Very well, where is she?”

She nodded across the room. “With young Sheridan. He’s quite taken with her.”

He glanced at the corner she had indicated, but there were too many people blocking his vision. “He has a passion for infants?”

“Infant?” She looked at him in surprise. “That’s right, you’ve not seen her tonight, have you?”

He had been careful not to seek out Marianna. He didn’t want to look at her or talk to her. He had wanted to lose himself and forget her existence, but Dorothy had foiled that plan.

Don’t hurt her tonight.

He felt something twist inside him. Well, so much for Gregor’s injunction. He had made the attempt, but Fate appeared to be against him. He might as well get on with the business. He started across the room. “You want me to pay my respects?” he said roughly. “Then let’s get it over with. Though I don’t see why you think I—” His stride faltered as he caught sight of Marianna.

A promise fulfilled, beautifully, sensually fulfilled.

“Infant?” Dorothy murmured.

Christ, it was as if these last three years had never happened. He was back in the tower room, watching her, wanting her. Relief streamed through him as he felt himself harden, ready. Yes, this was the response he needed. Lust was savage, mindless, without pity. If he let it take control, then he could do anything he had to. Any tenderness and softness would be submerged.

As it must be submerged.

“Jordan,” Dorothy said warningly.

“Be quiet, Dorothy.” He smiled recklessly. “I’m only doing what you wanted me to do.”

“I didn’t think— You haven’t been—”

“You mean I’ve been as tame as Alex’s pony so long you thought I was ready to be turned out to pasture. Perhaps I’m weary of doing tricks.” His gaze went to young Sheridan. “But judging by the way that presumptuous puppy is staring at Marianna, he might be willing to perform for her.” His mouth tightened. “I don’t believe I care for his manner toward my ward. Make an excuse and take him away.”

“I will do nothing of the sort.”

“You will.” He shot her a glittering glance. “Or I may decide to call him out.”

“You don’t mean it,” Dorothy said, horrified. “He would have no chance with you.”

“Then take him away.” The bastard was staring at her breasts as if he would like to free them, lift them in his palms, and then bring his mouth—Jordan could almost taste the softness, feel the peaking of nipples beneath his tongue. He could no longer identify Sheridan’s desire from his own. “Quickly,” he said, between his teeth.

“I won’t leave you alone with her. Do you want to ruin everything I’ve worked for?”

“We’re not alone. I believe you said there would be at least two hundred guests here tonight.”

Marianna had seen him. She stopped in midsentence and smiled tentatively at him.

My God, she was exquisite.

“Jordan, you brought me here to protect her,” Dorothy said desperately.

“And you’ve done very well, but it’s over now.”

“What’s happened?”

“Don’t meddle with something you don’t understand. Just accept that the situation has altered.”

“I would understand, if you explained. I have a true affection for the child and—”

“It appears she’s no longer a child.”

“Jordan, you’ve been very kind to her. I even thought— Blast you, why have you changed?”

He didn’t answer as he crossed the few yards. Then he took Marianna’s gloved hand and brought it to his lips. “A triumph, Marianna.”

The color flew to her cheeks. “You like it?”

“A triumph,” he repeated with perfect sincerity. “My ballroom will be the envy of every hostess in England. I couldn’t be more pleased or more impressed by your skill.” He nodded carelessly to Sheridan. “How do you do, Sheridan? I believe my cousin has a favor to ask of you. Something to do with arranging transport home for a few of the guests…” He trailed off and turned to Dorothy. “I’m sure Sir Timothy will be all that’s accommodating.”

Sheridan looked uncertainly at Dorothy. “Of course, I’m at your service, ma’am.”

Dorothy’s lips thinned. “ You’re a true gentleman, sir.” She turned on her heel and stalked through the crowd with Sheridan scurrying after her.

Marianna said, “She’s angry with you. Why?”

“I’m not fulfilling expectations. Or perhaps I am. It’s all how one perceives the situation.” He held out his hand. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

She took an eager step forward and then shook her head. “It’s a waltz. Dorothy says I mustn’t dance the waltz.”

“It’s forbidden? Don’t you tire of doing what Dorothy and Gregor tell you to do?”

“No. Yes.” She stared at him, puzzled. “You’ve always wanted me to do what they tell me to do. You’re confusing me.”

“I’m merely asking you to dance.” He held out his hand again. “Don’t you want to waltz beneath your splendid dome?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were bright, and her smile was suddenly as reckless as his own. “Oh, yes.” She put her hand in his. His hand cradled her waist, and he swung her out onto the floor.

S he felt as if she were flying, swooping, held tight to the earth only by Jordan’s hand at her waist. Yes, this was right, this was what she had wanted. To let Jordan take her on this magical journey, to fly, to spin, to share. It made the evening perfect, complete. She tilted her head back and stared up at the glass above her.

Flaming torches.

Light against darkness.

Shimmering color and beauty swimming in dizzying circles.

“Stop it,” Jordan said.

“What?”

“I said, stop it. Look at me.”

She did so, and she experienced a tiny shock that jarred her from the euphoric spell. His green eyes were glittering, narrowed on her face. Recklessness. Sensuality. Mockery.

She had been so happy when she had seen him coming toward her that she had barely noticed his change in demeanor.

He smiled. “Looking at me may not be as satisfying, but I can’t tolerate being ignored for glass and paint. Have I mentioned that besides being atrociously spoiled, I also have a tendency to be intensely jealous?”

She shook her head. “That’s not so.”

His brows lifted. “No?”

“You’re not jealous at all. I’ve watched you with—” She stopped. She didn’t really want him to be aware of how closely she’d monitored his liaisons with those women. Then she realized she didn’t have to admit it. He had never made mention of it, but he had known.

“I’ve watched you too,” he said quietly.

She experienced a queer sense of nakedness, as if all the fragile barriers between them were tumbling down. She hurriedly looked back at the ceiling. “You don’t care enough about anything or anyone to be jealous.”

“Then why did I tell Dorothy to take young Sheridan away or I would put a hole in his handsome head?”

Her eyes swung back to him in shock. “You’re joking.”

“Dorothy didn’t think it was amusing. It came as a surprise to me too.” He swung her in a wide, swooping circle. “But what is between us has never been guided by ordinary rules, has it? Just when we become accustomed to one set, the game changes.”

She couldn’t seem to look away. “And has it changed?”

“Yes.” His gaze moved to the nakedness of her upper breasts. “Thank God. I was beginning to feel like a eunuch.”

She felt a sudden tingling and swelling as if his hands were stroking her. She swallowed. “Dorothy would say that remark was most indelicate.” She suddenly burst out, “And to my knowledge a eunuch does not require a harem such as yours.”

For an instant the mockery in his expression changed, and she thought he was going to smile. Then the hint of softness vanished. “I told you I’d seek consolation. If you’d been ready to take me three years ago, a harem wouldn’t have been necessary.” He smiled. “Come to me tonight, and I promise I’ll rid myself of any entanglements.”

She inhaled sharply as she felt the muscles of her stomach clench. “I hate this. Why are you being so— It’s this stupid gown, isn’t it? I wish I’d never worn it.”

“And I wish you’d worn it sooner. It clarifies the situation. But we both know the gown isn’t the cause. We would have come to this anyway.”

“I don’t know any such thing. I was happy here. I thought—” She was not certain what she had thought, but it certainly wasn’t that she would be thrown into this sudden turmoil of feeling. “I felt safe.”

An indefinable emotion flickered in his expression. “I never promised you safety. Not unless you gave me what I needed.”

She stiffened as she realized his last words held no sensuality, only a harsh determination that transported her back to that night by the campfire in Montavia.

Mother of God, what a fool she was. She had been so contented, she had blissfully ignored the faint stirrings of apprehension she had experienced this afternoon. She whispered, “The Jedalar. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You think I can give you the Jedalar now.”

He glanced at the dome above them. “You’ve become an exceptional craftsman.”

Hurt twisted within her. “I told you I wouldn’t give it to you. Not ever.”

“I have to have it, Marianna. I’ve delayed as long as I can. I knew you had the skill to create the Jedalar over a year ago. I hoped I wouldn’t have to ask it of you.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she fought them back. “Did you think because you’ve cared for Alex and me all this time that I’d soften and give it to you? I owe you nothing. I’ve taken this dark place and given it back to you full of light and color.”

“Yes, you have.” He looked into her eyes and said roughly, “And I don’t want you soft. I want you strong. I want you to fight me and make me fight you. You have to fight me.”

“I will.” Her voice was unsteady. “Please, let me go. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“When the music ends. We have to talk.”

“Now!” She could bear no more. She broke away from him and hurried across the room. She heard the rustle of whispers among the dancers. She had probably ruined herself in their eyes. What did she care about them? All that mattered was that, to her profound relief, he wasn’t pursuing her.

She almost collided with Gregor as she ran through the doorway.

“Marianna.”

He looked so troubled, she tried to smile. “The torches were beautiful. Everything was beautiful, Gregor.”

“Give him the Jedalar,” he said in a low voice. “He does not want to hurt you, but he will. He will break you any way he can, and I cannot help you now. Give it to him.”

Her smile vanished as a wave of overwhelming desolation swept through her. She was alone. Gregor, whom she had thought her friend, had abandoned her.

She pushed past him and ran up the stairs.

G regor turned and stood waiting as Jordan strode across the ballroom toward him.

“She’s gone upstairs?” Jordan asked as soon as he reached him.

Gregor nodded. “There’s no use following her. I am sure she won’t answer the door. You frightened her.”

He had frightened her, Jordan thought, but he had also hurt her, and that was much worse. “I want you to take Alex and leave the castle tonight, at once. Go to Southwick to the Seastorm and take it down the coast.”

“To what destination?”

“No destination. Just show the lad a fine time.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged. “A few days. Then bring him back to Cambaron.”

His gaze searched Jordan’s face, and then he stated, “But Marianna will not be here when we return.”

“No, I’m taking her to Dalwynd.”

Gregor smiled sadly. “No doubt to find a way to convince her to give you the Jedalar?”

Jordan looked at the stairs. “What do you want me to say? That I’m going to keep up this ridiculous farce? It’s gone on too long. Your dove is no longer a child, she’s a woman. Yes, I want the Jedalar. Yes, I want her in my bed. If I can find a way to get both at Dalwynd, I’ll do it. But I assure you, I most certainly will have her before you see her again.” He smiled fiercely. “And there’s nothing in heaven or hell you can do to stop me this time.”

“I know. At last, you have found an excuse to take what you want. It is very sad. There will be much pain for both of you.”

“Then so be it. Send word to me at Dalwynd if you hear anything from Janus.”

Gregor nodded gloomily and started up the stairs. “I will go and get the boy.”

M arianna closed the door of her room and tore off the long gloves with shaking hands. She removed the beaded gown and thrust it far back in the armoire. She never wanted to see that beautiful garment again. She quickly slipped on the loose gown she had discarded earlier in the evening, snatched up a shawl, and ran from the room. She tore up the long, winding staircase to the tower room.

She skidded to a stop just inside the door.

Jordan sat at her worktable, his legs stretched out before him. “We didn’t finish our conversation.” The candle on the table cast flickering shadows on the long planes of his face. “I thought you’d come here. I frightened you, and it’s the only place you feel safe, isn’t it?”

She turned and took a step toward the door.

“I’m taking you away tomorrow.”

She whirled back to face him. “No!”

“Not far. We’re going to my hunting lodge, Dalwynd, just ten miles to the south.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve inspired a good deal of affection among my people here. I prefer to have you in a place where you’re likely to be more amenable to persuasion.” He glanced around the tower room. “And where you don’t feel safe.”

“I won’t go with you. I’ve already decided to take Alex and go to Dorchester with Dorothy.”

He shook his head. “Alex has already started on a journey of his own.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Alex is in his bed asleep.”

“He was until Gregor woke him and told him of the great adventure he was taking him on.”

Alex! Panic tore through her. She jerked open the door and flew down to Alex’s room.

Gone!

She stared down at the rumpled covers of the bed, her stomach churning.

“He will be quite safe as long as you do as I wish,” Jordan said from behind her.

She crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from trembling. “Gregor would never hurt Alex. He’s only a child.”

“But he knows many of Kazan’s children will die unless we find a way of protecting them. When it comes to choosing who is to receive his protection, he will choose Kazan.”

Gregor’s words came back to her. I cannot help you. Give him the Jedalar.

“He won’t hurt Alex,” she said stubbornly.

“Perhaps not, but he won’t give your brother back to you either.” He met her gaze. “I promise you won’t see Alex again until I have the Jedalar. You’ll never know if he’s safe or not.”

She stared at him. His expression was absolutely relentless. “You’re a terrible man,” she whispered.

He smiled crookedly. “It’s entirely possible.” He turned to leave. “Be ready to leave at first light. I know you won’t want to distress Dorothy any more than necessary by needless farewells.”

It was all a nightmare. It seemed impossible that she had been so happy earlier in the evening when her life was now in such chaos.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” She turned to see him standing in the doorway watching her. “I must be a little mad, but I’m driven to give you one more chance to change your mind. Promise to give the Jedalar to me, Marianna, and you’ll have Alex back by tomorrow evening. Everything will return to the way it was.”

Nothing could ever be the way it was. Everything had changed. Was her promise to Mama worth this risk to Alex? What did she care if a dozen nations were destroyed, if Alex was safe? But was there a risk to Alex? She couldn’t believe that either Gregor or Jordan would hurt him, so the risk was really to Marianna. Alex was the only person on earth who really belonged to her, and Jordan would keep his promise to deprive her of Alex. After years of being more mother than sister to him, the threat was enough to terrify her.

She couldn’t break her word to Mama without a battle. After all, it was only a matter of finding out where Gregor was keeping Alex and getting him back.

She said coldly, “I regret to disappoint you, but I won’t give you any such promise.”

“Oh, you’re not disappointing me. On the contrary, after years of restraint, it will be a relief to indulge the sinful nature Gregor swears I’ve overcome.” He smiled. “It was a last opportunity for me as well. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you saved me from it.”