A Touch of Passion (16 page)

“But you’ll ultimately make the decisions regardless of my wishes.”

“If we cannot agree on a topic, then of course I will determine our course of action.”

She bit back a sharp reply and tried to remain calm. “I’m assuming we are not going to agree on what happens when we get to Calais. Therefore, I’m very pleased we are not yet married!”

Grayson’s hands rose to his hips. “When we reach Calais you’re not to leave your cabin. I want you to stay hidden.”

“Say please,” she goaded him.

Instead he pulled her close, engulfing her in his arms. “I want you safe. I can’t fight this unknown enemy if I have to worry about you too.”

“You learned something from the man we captured. Are they going to attack again in Calais?”

He remained silent.

“What did you learn? You may as well share or I shall go to the prisoner directly.” She heard Grayson’s heart speed up, and his arms tightened until her newly healed ribs protested.

“Someone tried to kill you.”

Portia stilled. “My attacker indicated that was so. Did you learn who is behind the attacks?” When he shook his head she added, “My ribs and my throat already proved that they mean business. What did you learn?”

She could feel every muscle in his body tense. “They will try again in Calais,” he said at last.

Invisible icicles scraped over her skin. “Then we should set a trap. I want this over with, and so do you.”

“I’m not putting you in danger.”

“You’re not thinking this through properly. If we work together, we can take the fight to the enemy. We need a plan that sees me well protected and yet allows you and the men to capture our enemy.”

He stepped back and said in an emphatic voice, “No. It’s too dangerous. If—”

“She’s right, Grayson. You can’t keep running. You have to stand and fight at some point.”

He swung to face Seaton, anger scoring his handsome face. “We stand when we reach England.”

“How do you get her safely home? Once we reach England, traveling overland leaves you wide open. It’s not like this ship. They can sneak up on you—”

“No.” Grayson turned and stormed off toward the bow of the ship.

Portia moved to follow him. She wanted the enemy stopped, and the sooner the better, as far as she was concerned.

“Leave him,” the captain said. “Let him cool his temper, and then we can talk to him logically. I assume you have an idea?”

Seaton’s faith in her ability to come up with a plan warmed her. At least here was one man who did not see her as a helpless female who could not contribute anything other than child rearing. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

He smiled. “Why don’t we go and have breakfast and you can tell me all about it? Then we can work out how to get Grayson to agree.”

Grayson finally got his temper under control and went in search of Portia and Seaton. He kicked himself for leaving her with the captain; no doubt they would tackle him with an idea that would see Portia put in danger.

As soon as he entered the stateroom he knew he was right. Portia sat smiling as sweetly as a lioness that had swallowed the kill—dangerous and enticing.

Before they could speak, he put his hand out and said, “Not one word.”

Seaton rose and cursed. “Listen to what she has to say before you make any decision. You owe her that. It’s her life that’s threatened.” He turned and smiled at Portia. “Plus she is one smart woman. A man would be stupid not to take advantage of that.” With that he left the stateroom.

“I know you’re clever, but you are also a risk taker, and this is too risky.”

Her lips tightened and the fingers of her hands spread out on the table as if she was trying not to pick up the fork and stab him with it.

“How do you know it’s too risky if you don’t know what it is?”

“I know because it probably involves you being put in harm’s way. I cannot countenance that.” His guts clawed at the thought. Yes, he was afraid. He was man enough to admit that.

“I love you for that, and I’m counting on the fact you’d do anything to save me and keep me safe. Now sit down and hear this plan or Seaton will lock you in the cabin and we will instigate the trap without you. That would be unfortunate, as you are the key to our success.”

Grayson’s mouth fell open. She was serious. He sat, pretending he was playing along, but he’d find some way to stop this craziness. If anyone was going to be locked in a cabin when they reached Calais, it would be her.

They’d arrived in Calais early, well before dusk. However, Grayson’s heart was thudding so hard in his chest he could barely breathe. Under protest he’d agreed to her plan. It was a good one, which he hated to admit, but it still put her at risk.

They checked into a hotel for the night and dined in the public dining room. He watched those around them carefully but could not see anyone acting suspiciously, and Portia had not used the signal they had agreed upon, pulling a loose curl straight, to indicate she saw anyone she recognized.

At the end of the first course they began their staged performance. It was actually fun to start arguing with Portia. She was quick-witted, and it made their pretend quarrel an enjoyable activity. For one moment he thought how much fun it would be to come home at the end of the day and have her to discuss his day with.

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked rather loudly.

He didn’t even have to pretend that he wasn’t listening, as he hadn’t been. “My dear, having to listen to you all day makes a man wish he were deaf.” His words spread over the other diners like a rippling wave, and he could see several people stop eating as he and Portia became the center of attention.

“Well, I never. If you were deaf, then I could tell you constantly what an arse you are without having to listen to your boring sermons on etiquette.” Portia’s voice rose shrilly on the word “arse,” drawing it out like a long bagpipe note. Titters started throughout the room.

Her words hit too close to home, and suddenly his temper ignited. It was her smug look, as if to say
I can say anything and you can’t stop me
, lighting the fuse. “And one wonders why I want to spend more time with my mistress than at home with my newly married wife.”

The smile left her face, and he saw her physically wince. He wished he could take back the cruel words, but he couldn’t if they were to maintain their cover. To his admiration she responded haughtily. “Thank goodness is all I can say, sir. It will save me from suffering mediocrity in the bed sport department.”

“I haven’t had any complaints before, madam.”

“It’s a shame your little manhood isn’t as big as your ego.”

That saw the men in the room snort and the women giggle.

Playing to their audience, he rose quickly, throwing his napkin on the table. “I saved your reputation by marrying you—you could at least be a tad grateful. I think I need some fresh air, and maybe I’ll find company for the night more welcoming than yours.”

With that he stormed out of the dining room, to gasps from the onlookers. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn around, go back, and stay glued to her side. However, two of Seaton’s men were in place, tasked with ensuring her safety. This was the part of the plan he objected to—that he had to entrust her safety to others. Robert was likely turning in his grave.

He walked back toward the docks as planned. He was to give her thirty minutes; if their enemy had not attacked by then, then presumably they hadn’t fallen for their display in the dining room.

Grayson had walked only a short distance before he sensed he was being followed. Was it their enemy or simply an opportunistic thief? There was only one way to find out.

Grayson slowed and spun to face his pursuer.

Portia stood on shaking legs and held her head high as she swept out of the dining room.
That went rather well
, she thought. Her pretend tears were an inspired touch—she blubbered all the way up the stairs to their suite, hoping that if their enemy was watching, they would think her too distraught to notice what was going on around her.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary as she made her way back to her room. She pulled the key out of her reticule and opened the door. She hesitated before stepping into the room. The shadows appeared sinister, and she fingered the pearls at her throat. Perhaps her plan wasn’t such a good idea. She only just stopped herself from seeking out the two men seeing to her safety until Grayson could double back to the hotel.

Gathering her courage, she entered the room, seemingly still upset.
I should be on the stage
, she thought briefly, as she was more scared than upset.

The maids had laid a fire and lighted a couple of lamps. The shadows flickering over the walls sent shivers running over her, though earlier in the afternoon the room had looked very pleasant.

She needed a drink to calm her nerves. As she poured a small sherry she prayed their plan worked. She wanted this adventure over so that Grayson’s attention would fall fully upon her.

The waiting seemed endless and she couldn’t settle down, so she walked the room, following the pattern on the carpet until she knew it by heart, drink in hand as if it were a weapon. After a quarter of an hour, her nerves demanded a call of nature, and she walked to the bedroom. The room was completely dark, and she felt as if she were teetering on the very edge of a cliff.

In that instant she sensed she was not alone.

She was proved right when a flint flared and lamplight suddenly flooded the room. “So nice of you to walk into the spider’s web, my dear.”

Three things struck Portia. One, the man had a pistol pointed directly at her. Two, his face looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. And three, his voice was refined. This was not some thug paid to kill her. Hope rose with the fear. If they could capture him, they would most likely uncover who exactly was doing this to Grayson, and perhaps who was responsible for Lord Markham’s problems too.

“Funny, you don’t look like a spider. More’s the pity, as if you were, I could squash you under my shoe.” She moved further into the room, the knowledge that with one scream Seaton’s men would enter giving her courage. “You appear to be wearing Lord Blackwood’s coat. I think I’ve been in this situation before. It was you at Vauxhall Gardens.”

He didn’t move from his position on the bed. He sat with his back to the headboard, his long legs crossed, the soles of his Hessian boots facing her. In the dim light anyone might confuse him with Grayson. He was so sure of himself that he let the pistol twirl in his fingers.

“You were so easy to lure, so eager to give yourself to Lord Blackwood. You played straight into my hands.”

Her pride took a beating. The smugness of his smile made her want to reveal their trap, but she held her tongue.

“I’m assuming from your voice that we mix in similar circles. How else would you know I held a tender regard for Lord Blackwood?”

He laughed. “My boss told me you were a clever one.”

“Interesting. I would not have thought a man such as you had a boss.” She looked him over carefully, a niggle of memory biting at the back of her brain. “A refined accent but he has a boss. Let me guess … gambling debts?” His smile immediately vanished, and the gun rose to point at her chest once again. “I love it when I’m right. You are a loser.”

“Touché. However, you’re not doing very well yourself. How old are you?” He leered at her, “You should be thanking me, because Blackwood’s done the noble thing and married you. A marriage at sea—how romantic. However, it would appear from the argument this evening that he won’t be unhappy when I make him a widower.” He waved the gun, and she took a step back. “Now where do you think you’re going? Come here,” he said patting the edge of the bed.

Portia knew she should give the signal, one long scream, but as it appeared he wasn’t about to kill her immediately, she decided to see what else she could learn. Perhaps she could stall him and he’d reveal vital information that could help Grayson. Besides, at any minute Grayson would come barging through the door.

“I must confess I always found you quite beautiful. And the fact you were, shall we say, unconventional appealed to me, because I was sure you’d put yourself in a position where I could compromise you.”

Portia tried to push aside her fear, racking her brain trying to unlock his identity. Surely Grayson would know. She snorted, saying, “My brother would never have forced me into a marriage.”

He rose from the bed without taking his cold, emotionless eyes from her. “I thought as much. Hence my acceptance of plan B.”

“Someone will clear your debts if you kidnap me.”

“You’re far too clever. Yes, that’s the deal, leaving me free to marry another heiress and still have my debts cleared. I’ll be set for life. Unfortunately, you were not supposed to return from the harem. I don’t get paid until Lord Blackwood is blamed. Your disappearance was supposed to point the blame at him. Everyone would assume he’d killed you to hide his dalliance. It’s very easy to dispose of a body.”

“No one would believe Grayson capable of such a crime.”

“I’ve made sure there is plenty of evidence.” He tugged at the coat.

She slowly moved her hand to her hidden pocket. The feel of the dagger there gave her courage. “You’re quite convincing. You fooled me by wearing Grayson’s greatcoat. In the dark you are the same size and build. Clever. I assume you had a hand in Lord Markham’s troubles too.”

He frowned. “I assure you I don’t know anything about Lord Markham.”

He was telling the truth—he hadn’t even blinked at her statement.

“No more questions.” He indicated with the gun for her to lie down, and he began to unbutton his trousers.

“You can shoot me just as well sitting up.” She knew exactly what he was planning, and bile rose in her throat. If she didn’t comply, would he simply shoot her? A scream might just see her killed. She hoped Grayson was all right.

“When you are found raped, abused, and dead, he will be blamed. The public spat in the dining room was fortunate. It provides Blackwood with a motive. Lord Blackwood didn’t wish to marry you. Everyone heard his declaration at dinner. Now be a good girl and lie back on the bed.”