Dancing on the Wind (35 page)

"In other words you're afraid I'm too frivolous to tolerate your career as a political and social writer. Actually, that's one of your charms," he remarked. "Marrying a woman who wears as many different faces as you would be like having a whole harem in one wife. There would never be a dull moment. And I agree with most of your opinions, except when you're being deliberately provocative."

She stared at him, off balance again. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't quite believe that Kristine was L. J. Knight, but such work suits Kathryn right down to the ground." His mouth quirked up. "Am I wrong?"

"No," she said ruefully. "Everything I said about being a journalist was true. Knight was my mother's maiden name. I'm beginning to think that you're never wrong."

"This from the woman who tied me in knots for weeks."

She studied his face, again feeling the sense of a current running between them. She had always thought there was a discrepancy between his public face and his real self, and now she was certain. "You're not the idle gentleman you pretend to be, are you? I should have realized earlier that the way you observe and analyze isn't casual at all. What is your purpose?"

It was his turn to look off-balance. "I had the vain hope that you might not work that out," he said after a slight pause. "Suffice it to say that the war with France made information valuable, so I've learned to pay attention and pass on material that might be of interest to the government."

"If you say so," she said skeptically. "I would have thought it more likely that you're some sort of master spy who hides behind a facade of frivolity."

His eyes became greener. Another person might not have noticed, but to Kit it was proof positive that her guess had hit the mark. "So that's why you wanted to become a Hellion," she said triumphantly. "It explains a great deal."

"Peace, woman." He gave a sigh of comic defeat. "I'm going to have to confess, aren't I?"

"I think it only fair. After all, tonight my life has been examined to a fare-thee-well."

"There's no official name for my position, but I've been quietly involved in intelligence work ever since I left Oxford. A friend once said that I'm like a spider sitting in the middle of a vast web, munching on reports that come from all over Europe."

"You don't look like a spider. Nowhere near enough legs."

He grinned. "I sometimes look into domestic matters when there are international implications. In this case, I have reason to believe that one of the Hellions has been a French spy for years. With rumors that Napoleon might try to seize power again, it's particularly important to stop the fellow. So far, though, I've had no success." He scowled ferociously and slid his hand under the blanket so he could caress her breast. "Most of my attention has been taken up by a certain maddening female."

She laughed, then caught her breath when he rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Unhappily, she caught his hand and lifted it out from under the blanket. "Don't, Lucien. Passion is a luxury I can't afford just now. The connection between Kira and me is not as strong as when we were younger, and I daren't do anything that might weaken it further."

He settled his hand on her torso again, but this time quietly on top of the blanket. "The bond seems remarkably strong, considering that you've been living apart and pursuing different interests for years."

"It wasn't geography that weakened the link, but the fact that after we separated, Kira started keeping things from me." Kit gave a wintry smile. "I expect she thought I was too innocent to hear the gritty reality of an actress's life. It was frustrating—I could dimly sense her emotional ups and downs, but usually didn't know enough to interpret them."

His brows drew together. "That could be useful. Did you sense anything that happened to her during those years that might be relevant to her disappearance?"

"The most notable event was a period when she was blazingly happy. It ended very suddenly, and after that she was wretched for a long time. I think she fell in love and it ended badly." Kit sighed. "She refused to discuss it, or even admit that there was a man, but she has never been quite the same since; She lost some of her sparkle."

"It must have hurt to be shut out," he said softly.

Kit didn't answer. In this instance, she wished that Lucien was a bit less sensitive. It had been hard to know that her twin was hurting; it had been even harder not to be allowed to help.

"We've been assuming that Kira's 'Lord Hellion' is the villain, but perhaps that's wrong," he continued. "Could this affair of Kira's be a factor?"

She thought about it, then shook her head. "I don't think so—it happened two or three years ago. Besides, my feeling was that he left her, not vice versa, so he's unlikely to kidnap her from unrequited passion."

"Did you notice any times when she was frightened?"

"Only when she was about to go on stage for a new show, and that kind of fear has a different flavor from fear for one's safety." Kit made a face. "I've learned stage fright well since I started performing in Kira's place."

"Do you enjoy acting? You do it magnificently, with the same ability to bewitch an audience that you say Kira has."

"That isn't my ability; it's borrowed from Kira." She pondered. "The applause is exciting, and I'm glad to have had the chance to experience it.It helps me understand Kira better. But to perform well, it's
necessary to bare one's  inner life, which I hate. I'm much happier behind the scenes."

"Obviously you were born to be a writer, just as Kira was born to be an actress." He brushed his knuckles tenderly under her chin. "Twins are even more interesting for their differences than for their similarities. If you think of anything else that could be relevant, make a note and tell me later. I might see something that you are too close to notice."

They lay together in silence for a little longer. Kit wondered sadly if they would ever be like this again. Finally, she sat up and swung her feet to the floor. "It's time for me to leave. Dawn can't be far away."

He sat up also, his face grave. "I find myself deeply reluctant to let you out of my sight."

"Not surprising, based on your experience." She stood and pulled her rumpled garments on. "But don't worry. You were right earlier—I need all of the help I can get, so I promise not to vanish again."

"Where is Kira's house?"

It was a test, and she met it without hesitation. "Number 7 Marshall Street. I divide my time between there and Jane's. I always stay at Kira's when I'm performing."

His face eased. "When I leave here, I have to make a quick trip to Ashdown, but I should be back in London late Tuesday."

"I'll be doing
The Gypsy Lass
again that night. Why not meet me in my dressing room afterward?" Her eyes twinkled. "This time I'll go to supper with you voluntarily. No kidnapping required."

"Kidnapping you was particularly inappropriate under the circumstances. No
wonder you were furious." He regarded her thoughtfully. "Did you suspect me of being the one who had abducted your sister?"

"Not really. I knew that I should—the information about you was rather ominous—but I didn't really believe that someone who kept rescuing me from drunken Hellions was a villain." Her mouth quirked. "Besides, if you and Kira
had met, you would have gotten on smashingly. No abduction would have been required."

"I'm glad to know that my sterling qualities shone through." He stood and began putting his own clothing on. "I'll see you Tuesday night unless the roads are especially bad. If I don't arrive within half an hour of the end of the play, assume that I was held up. I'll call at Kira's house the next morning." He chuckled. "Do you realize how seldom we have seen each other in daylight? It's like the courtship of two owls."

She cocked her head as she tied the ribbon of her crumpled domino. "Is this a courtship?"

"It must be, since soon we will be standing at the altar."

He crossed the room and reached for her. She sidestepped nervously. "I shouldn't kiss you, Lucien. As I said earlier, passion is too distracting."

He paused in midstep. "I thought the ban was on more intimate activities."

She blushed and looked away. "With you, even a kiss is enough to scramble my wits."

He sighed. "Flattering but frustrating. It's going to be very hard to be around you and not touch, kitten."

"I'm too tall and too serious to be a kitten."

"Nonsense." He grinned. "You're a very convenient size, and I think you're absolutely hilarious." Before she could protest the remark, he drew her into a hug. "Tonight is already a flat loss in terms of you keeping your sensory channels clear," he said into her hair. "Would another kiss be that much worse than what we've already done?"

He must have known that she could not resist him when he was so close. "Perhaps…" she said hesitantly, "a kiss will be all right." She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his. His mouth welcomed hers, warm and deep. He was the whole world, strong as the earth, and as essential. She clung to him, shaking, for long seconds after the kiss ended.

His own breath uneven, he said, "We will find Kira, and then you will marry me. Accept it, my dear tiger kitten, because we've gone too far to turn back." He kissed her again, this time lightly. "I look forward to the next time I can compromise you."

She smiled a little sadly as she emerged from his embrace. She wished she could believe they had a future together, but she couldn't.

No one saw them when Lucien escorted Kit through the silent house to an unobtrusive exit. She had insisted that she would be all right, but it was hard to let her go, and impossible to sleep when he returned to his room. Restlessness and yearning churned in his veins. Still, though the emotions were far from comfortable, they were a great improvement over the black melancholy that had followed intimacy in the past.

She filled his mind; maddening, quicksilver Kit, with her courage and loyalty, her wicked intelligence and her flowering sensuality. There was a tantalizing possibility that with her he might find the emotional intimacy that had been absent from his life since Elinor's death.

Such closeness wasn't there yet, and it might never be. Kit's first allegiance was to her twin, and dead or alive, Kira might stand permanently between Kit and himself. But at least there was hope. It would be worth marrying Kit for that, quite apart from marriage being the honorable thing to do.

It was going to be
very
hard to keep his hands off her while they searched for Kira.

He smiled into the darkness. Kit could not have found a better motivation for him to find her twin quickly.

Interlude

Worse than the fear, almost as dreadful as the degradation, was the boredom. Strange how even horror could become banal. Sometimes she thought she would go mad from isolation. She supposed that she should be grateful that her prison was so comfortable, but it was still a prison.

How long she had been locked in her lightless room? Weeks, certainly, perhaps months. It was hard to keep track of time. She yearned for the sight of the sun, or a rain-soaked sky.

Her only diversion was a small shelf of books, none of which she would have allowed in her home if she'd had a choice, but of choices she had none. The nauseating volumes had been essential at teaching her to understand something of her captor's perverse mind. She had also studied them religiously to glean ideas of what she might do to him. He thrived on novelty, and the day he became bored with her, she was a dead woman.

She was restlessly pacing around the sitting room when the hard-faced maid arrived. The massive armed guard who stood outside was briefly visible when the iron-bound door swung open. Knowledge of that guard was all that had kept her from making a desperate attempt to escape. She had not endured what she had to vainly throw her life away. If she waited, eventually a better opportunity would come.

The maid said, "He'll be here in an hour. He wants you to wear the furs."

She nodded wearily. Her captor was particularly fond of that costume. With the help of the maid, she donned the outfit. First a tight red satin garment that resembled an elaborate French corset. Then the inevitable black boots and lace stockings. Finally, a sable cape that swirled dramatically when she stalked about with her whip.

If… when… she escaped from this place, she would be happy to wear plain white muslin for the rest of her life.

She was adjusting her silver blond wig when the maid suddenly spat out, "You think you re safe because he likes what you do to him, but you'll see. In a fortnight you'll end up just like the others."

She spun on her heel and stared at the maid "What others'? And what happened to them?"

The maid gave an ugly smile. "Do you think you're the first he brought here? As for what happens
—
you'll see, you filthy slut." The maid rapped on the door, and the guard let her out
.

Her cold hands clamped about the handle of her whip. She had always known that there could be no good end to her captivity, but time was running out faster than she had realized.

A fortnight.Silently, she vowed that when the time came, she would not go tamely like a lamb to the slaughter.