Come the Dawn (21 page)

“He’s ruined my coiffure!” the countess shrieked. “And my beautiful gown is covered with muddy prints. I shall kill the wretched beast.” She spun around and swung her reticule wildly. “Take that, you nasty thing. And that, and that.”

As Lady Marchmont swung at the air, the monkey hissed protectively. The widow shrank back, then fled from the alcove, her crimson dress fluttering around her. India caught back a laugh, shaking her head at the small creature who had created such chaos.

But the monkey was no longer on the hedge. He had leaped to the ground and now was comfortably lapping up the pool of champagne left from India’s overturned goblet.

“So you like champagne, do you? You have expensive tastes, little one.” Bending down, India slowly held out one hand. With such a costume, the animal was probably a tamed performer escaped from somewhere on the grounds. After a moment the monkey shook his tail and walked up her arm. With great dignity he turned once, then settled on her shoulder. Chattering softly, he toyed with the jewels at her neck, then turned away, eager for new discoveries.

“Savage beast, indeed,” India said, stroking the creature’s head. He was frightened and dreadfully underfed, and she could feel ribs beneath his soft fur. She was wondering what to do with him, when footsteps crunched over gravel on the far side of the hedge.

Low voices echoed on the still air. “That cursed animal must be somewhere close. I saw him run into this alcove. When I find him I’ll get back what he stole, even if I have to cut out his stomach with this knife to do it.”

India stared around her in horror. Where could they hide? The footsteps were crunching closer. They would be discovered any second.

Her eyes narrowed on the back of the bower, where a little door lay half hidden by greenery. She stroked the monkey, cautioning him to silence, then made her way to the door behind the curve of one hedge. “Quiet now,” she said softly. “A few more seconds and we’ll—”

“You’ll do what?” A man stood at the entrance to the bower, his face covered with a dark mask. A smaller man, his face concealed by a hat, stood close behind him.

India shoved the monkey up to a ledge made of stone, praying the overhanging greenery would hide him there. Then she raised her head imperiously. “You were speaking to
me?”

“You heard me. Where did you think you were going with my monkey?”

“I have no monkey here. Now kindly step aside. I expect my gentleman friend will be looking for me any moment now.”

The tall man in the mask did not move. “Maybe I don’t believe you, my beauty. And maybe I’m wondering what you were at such pains to hide back near that hedge.” He took a step closer. India saw his jaw tense beneath the edge of his mask.

The swaying lanterns cast a cold gleam of light on the pistol India pulled from her reticule. “I do not care for your attitude, sir. At the count of five I shall fire this thing. You would not care for that, I think.”

The man cursed and took an unconscious step backward, slamming into his partner. “You don’t know how to shoot that thing, and I’m going nowhere. Not until I’ve found that cursed monkey.”

India raised the pistol until it was level at the man’s chest. “Let us see exactly how well I can shoot.”

She was calculating just how far to the right she would have to fire to put a ball harmlessly into the stone wall above the man’s shoulder when she heard a noise behind her. A dark shape flew along the top of the boxwood hedge, flew into the air and landed on her arm.

The pistol wavered. She struggled wildly to hold her aim, but the monkey’s weight threw her off balance and the pistol flew from her fingers. End over end it spun, clattering off the wrought-iron table and discharging noisily.

“There’s the damned animal!” The two men bolted forward.

The monkey was clutching India’s neck so tightly that she could barely see.

“Now we’ll see how brave you are, my grand miss.” The man in the dark domino circled the table slowly. His eyes glittered behind the slits of his mask.

Wildly, India shoved a chair forward and sent it crashing into her attacker’s thighs. As he fell backward, cursing, she tugged the quivering shape away from her face and charged toward the narrow gap in the boxwood hedge.

The two men came crashing after her, but now the overturned table blocked her way.

What was she to do now?

“You will be very sorry for this. The man I’ve come here to meet will not care for your behavior, I assure you. He will take out his cavalry saber and gut you from throat to thigh.”

The two ruffians kept coming. Desperately, India fled around the table, inches before her pursuers, knowing any second they would have her. To right and left dark walks led back into the heart of the pleasure grounds.

She caught a ragged breath and ran forward, praying that someone would emerge from the lanes nearby.

A shadow fell against the gravel path. A tall figure appeared, features veiled by a mask of black satin.

India threw herself forward and launched into a throaty greeting.
“There
you are, my love! I’ve just been telling these horrid men to leave me alone. Now you must drive them off, as I told them you would.”

She spoke frantically, determined to cut off any sort of protest from the hapless stranger she had cornered all unknowing on the shaded walk. India well knew her masquerade could not end here. Pushing to her toes, she threw her arms around the stranger’s shoulders and pulled his head down to hers, softening her mouth for a convincingly passionate kiss.

Her heart was pounding. She felt the press of a hard male body and the quick check of the man’s breath. Her fingers tightened on the crisp wool at his shoulders and she had the faint notion that there was something she was forgetting. But there was no time for idle speculation.

She pulled him closer still and slid her slender body full against his. “Kiss me,” she whispered raggedly.
“Please.”

“Delighted. Except that I rather think you’ve welcomed me enough,” came the dark and slightly mocking reply.

Abruptly India realized what had been bothering her. It was so very simple now. In fact, it was the very same thing that always seemed to be bothering her.

Devlyn Carlisle
.

Thorne’s hands tightened. His
silver eyes blazed with a mix of anger and reluctant amusement. Why couldn’t he have had the good fortune to fall in love with a normal, biddable female? Preferably, someone who knew the meaning of the word
no
.

But he lost track of his question a heartbeat later. The race of his heart swept away all rational concerns.

Because the woman in his arms was both innocent and seductress. She was summer’s heat and autumn’s calm. She was stubborn, volatile, rash, and utterly remarkable. Her death-defying antics at the balloon ascension had showed no less.

Devlyn Carlisle, seasoned soldier that he was, knew the full strength of his adversary. And he knew, despite all his struggles, that he had lost. His logic had fought for control, but his damnable heart had prevailed. There would never be another woman like this one and he could no more resist her than cease to breathe.

Dimly he heard the crunch of feet on gravel.

“Er, beg your pardon. Didn’t realize this spot was taken.” Two figures slipped past Devlyn, heading to the bower’s mouth. They spoke quickly, and then were gone. But the thunder in Dev’s blood was too intense for him to pull away as he should have. Not when India’s fingers were buried deep in his hair and her body lay curved against him, supple as a young rowan tree in spring. He drew her to him, savoring the heat of her body. At this moment at least, she was opened to him, lushly welcoming. Her lips were softly tentative as she kissed his jaw, his cheek, and then the curve of his mouth.

A shudder ran through him. The night was too tempting —
she
was too tempting. Her cheeks were vibrant, flushed. He smelled the rich sweetness of champagne on her lips and wondered how many glasses she had had. “I’ll go away more often, my dear, if you promise to welcome me back like this.”

He felt her stiffen, heard the sharp lurch of her breath. She drew back and closed her hands to fists. “Don’t think it means a
thing,
Devlyn Carlisle. You were strictly the first convenient person at hand when I needed to escape those ruffians.”

“Indeed?” The lantern played over the gossamer silk, molded lovingly to her splendid body. She was so beautiful that he ached, Thorne thought wryly. Silently, his fingers slid over the lush curve of her hips and he pulled her back against him.

“Stop that.”

He paid not the slightest attention. Smiling lazily, he let his hand play through the magnificent red curls that covered her neck and coiled artlessly across the ripe swell of her breast. He caught one curl, warm and smooth as satin. Holding tightly, he drew her closer.

“Let me go, Devlyn. This is a reprehensible game you’re playing. I won’t stand for it, do you hear?”

His smile grew until the lazy heat in his eyes flamed into unbridled hunger. But she did not move. She waited tensely, watching the vein that throbbed at his neck.

“Devlyn, this is dangerous. It is a bad idea for us even to think about—”

He pulled her the last few inches, hands claiming her waist. He took a step backward, searching for the cool stone bench that ran along one wall of the bower, but instead of granite he met something small and furry that screeched and darted away in the shadows. In the process, Thorne lost his footing and toppled backward onto the leaf-covered ground, cursing darkly.

Something sharp gouged into his back. “What in the devil is this?”

“My pistol, I imagine.”

Her pistol. Of course, why hadn’t he thought of that?
“I
suppose you were giving pistol lessons here?”

“I was defending myself. Then I saw the monkey.”

“The monkey.” He sat up, wincing. “Don’t tell me.”

India frowned down at him. “Devlyn Carlisle, have you been drinking? You’re making no sense at all.”

“I make no sense? I am not the person who is talking about monkeys and pistols, my dear.”

India glared down at him. “I suppose I should have let those two men paw me as they threatened to do?”

At this, Devlyn lunged to his feet. “Why didn’t you say so! I’ll kill them. I’ll see the pair of them hung from the oak tree opposite the orchestra pit.” As he lunged around the overturned table, his ankle caught on one of the wrought-iron chairs, throwing him forward so that his head struck the granite bench.

“Devlyn, are you all right?”

“Wonderful! I quite enjoy being attacked by a feral monkey, spraining my ankle and then suffering severe trauma to the head when I trip over your blasted pistol in the darkness.”

India found her way to the long stone bench and sat down heavily. She caught a ragged breath. Then she began to laugh.

“I hardly see what’s so funny,” Thorne snapped, rubbing his aching forehead.

“It — it’s the sight of you, sprawled out on the grass. First the pistol, then the monkey, now this. Oh, I do beg your pardon, but it was really the end of enough. And that dreadful creature has broken the champagne goblet. Be careful that you don’t sit down on a piece of glass, won’t you?” Her voice gurgled. “Here’s another piece.” She frowned down at the bench. “Except it is very large. In fact, it’s even bigger than the first one.” Her voice caught sharply.

“What is it now?”

When there was no answer, Devlyn moved closer to India. What he saw made his own breath catch. In India’s outstretched hand, lit by the lanterns, lay a gem of unparalleled brightness, its hundred facets gleaming like the first pale streaks of dawn.

“It — it’s beautiful,” India said breathlessly. “But how in the world did it get
here?”

Thorne’s eyes were locked on the pink stone. “Those men, I’d say.”

India shook her head. “I doubt they were here long enough. Of course, it was very dark and I did have my mind on other things at the time.”

“Like shooting them through the heart.” Devlyn’s voice was grim as he studied the stone’s gleam in the restless light. “Sweet heaven, the thing must be sixty karats at least.” His voice hardened. “And pink. A pink diamond. I know of only one like that. But it couldn’t be…”

“Couldn’t be what?” India frowned at Devlyn as he removed his mask. “Dev, what were you about to say?”

A thousand grim speculations flashed through Thornwood’s head. Was it possible that the diamond shipment had already begun, and the first gems were to be exchanged here tonight? There could be few better places than Vauxhall for people to mix unobserved and unquestioned, rich and poor, English and foreign. And among them always, quiet and clever, passed some of the worst criminals of the London streets. Yes, Vauxhall would be the perfect location for a jewel exchange. Thornwood could only kick himself for not having thought of it sooner.

“Devlyn? Tell me what you meant.”

He couldn’t, of course. Meanwhile, his brain was raging to understand all the implications of this discovery. “What? It was nothing. And now if you don’t mind I would like to have a better look at that jewel.” He held out his hand.

But he was too late. The jewel had disappeared. Devlyn frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve put it away for safekeeping.”

“Then you can just dig into your reticule and bring it out again.”

India’s full lips curved. “But I didn’t put it in my reticule,” she said sweetly.

Thorne’s eyes narrowed. There was no spot on that diaphanous gown where she could conceal a gem of such size. No place at all.

Except…

Throne’s eyes locked on the luscious expanse of her breasts. By God, she couldn’t have had the utter gall to slip the thing into her bodice!

“India?”

“Yes, Devlyn?” came the sweet, purring reply.

“I’ll find it, you know. It’s only a matter of time. You can’t hope to keep it hidden from me.”

“You might if you dared, but somehow I don’t think you will. You see, Dev, you are afraid of your emotions. You’re afraid of what you see when you look at me and what you feel when you touch me. That’s why I wager that the diamond will be perfectly safe where I’ve hidden it.”

A muscle flashed at Thorne’s jaw. The woman was positively Machiavellian, just like her grandmother. And the fact that she was utterly right in her assessment only added to his irritation.

Yes, Thorne
was
afraid of what he was feeling at that moment. With one touch he would be lost, his control shattered, and he knew he couldn’t risk the chance. Not here in this silent place of shadows and moonbeams, a place made just for lovers and for those who were fortunate enough to hold onto their dreams.

Dreams were something that Devlyn Carlisle had lost long before in a muddy field in Belgium.

His voice fell. “Damn it, India, give me that diamond.”

“Fetch it yourself, my lord.”

So she thought he was a coward, did she? He cursed darkly and pulled her to her feet. Light danced over her reddish curls, making her dress shimmer like fairy wings. She was light in his arms, fragile, almost a creature of a fairy world herself, and his throat tightened as he caught her drifting scent of violets. “Don’t make me do this, India. It will hurt you just as much as me.”