Stormfire (87 page)

"Kit has no dowry," Sean said tightly, "not a sou she can claim."

"Napoleon ceded the
Vigny
estates back to her as a wedding present. Does that sound like the act of a thwarted lover? Now that he's First Consul, he prefers his mistresses to be married; it prevents embarrassing accidents from being laid at his door."

Respite the heat of the fire, Sean felt suddenly, clammily cold, and utterly stupid. He was not accustomed to feeling stupid, but now the sensation gripped him like a mailed fist and he smashed his hand against the mantel. "The whole damned thing was an arrangement. I'll wager Amauri even suggested Bonapart have
Fouché
present his calling card!" God, what his stupidity had done to Catherine, whom he had sworn he would never hurt again. He had been too preoccupied with his own misery to see the trap. "I'll kill the slimy bastard."

The deadly whisper galvanized Gil. "Look, Amauri may be innocent. I'll grant you he's ambitious, but I've never heard he. was unscrupulous. Besides, even if he is, you'd only make things worse. God knows what information Amauri might have already fed
Fouché.
You say your lady's five months pregnant; surely she's safe until the child is born."

Culhane's muscles contracted as he gripped the mantel in self-disgust.

The Irishman thought for a moment. "I'll have to make myself valuable to Napoleon, in case France's latest boy general should fatally choke on his recent good fortune."

*
   
*
   
*

Catherine
wandered the ruins of her grandmother's rose garden. Revolutionary mobs had trampled the gardens. Swaddled in-shallow, drifted snow, the remaining rose bushes were diseased. Restoration would take years, but she had years; to think of how many made her shiver.

Careless of her fur-lined kid gloves, Catherine dug at the roots of a damaged lilac bush. The shrub showed promise. Letting dirt and snow sift off her fingers, she watched sunlight wink off the snow's minute facets. Her heart felt as if it were cracked into tiny, frozen crystals like the ones that blanketed the garden. Her spirit had pointlessly endured only to die of creeping frost.

The marriage was a disaster. She was beginning to recognize Amauri's lies; like Enderly's they came fluently, as if they were part of his charm. He wanted something from her, beyond money, beyond her body, beyond even love, and fear of that something made her shake from head to foot.

That night, as Catherine brushed her hair before bed, Amauri nuzzled her ear and purred, "I've a wonderful surprise,
chérie.
Josephine has chosen you to be one of her
ladies-in-
waiting. ' '

Even prepared for an outburst, he flinched as she whirled. "That's absurd! She wouldn't choose me if I were the last woman on earth!"

Hastily, he tried to calm her. "Josephine desperately needs a suitable lady, Catherine. One of the three she has is leaving with her husband for an Italian post. To be asked is a spectacular honor. After all, I'm only a general and the army has scores of generals—"

"So soon dissatisfied,
mon cher?"
she cut in ironically.

He flushed. "Not at all. I'm just trying to make you understand. It's a political appointment, not a matter of favorites."

"I daresay it depends on
whose
favorite one is," she muttered as she turned back to the mirror and resumed brushing her hair with studied carelessness.

Amauri pretended astonished anger. "Are you insinuating Napoleon still has designs on you? How can you abuse his honor after accepting his generosity?"

"He merely returned what is rightfully mine." Coolly, her eyes met his in the mirror. "Besides, what has his so called generosity done for me but transfer my property into the hands of one of his faithful servants? Every time I request a conference with our solicitor, he's either conveniently in court or out of the city, or contracting measles from one of his children; from the time he spends in bed, he must have dozens of them."

"Catherine, you aren't being fair," Amauri said sternly. "We aren't his only clients." He scowled and began to pace the room. "Do you think I'd let you accept this position if I thought Napoleon would abuse you?"

"I'm beginning to think you'd do anything to get what you want,
Raoul,"
she said flatly. She tossed her hairbrush on the dresser. "What
do
you want? What is worth being not just another general, but the foremost cuckold of Paris?"

He slapped her. "I ought to kill that Corsican and you, too!"

"So, at last you're honest." She did not touch her face; she had not even shielded it.

With a kind of dull pain, he stared at the livid marks of his hand and wondered what they had cost him.

She looked at him levelly. "I won't agree to become Napoleon's mistress to further your career,
Raoul.
You'll just have to take your chances like all the other generals."

Raoul
saw now he had tried to maneuver her stupidly. Catherine had proven she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. He could not lose her. Ever. Not to Napoleon and certainly not to a ghost.

"I suppose I could force you into anything I wanted," he said quietly. "I checked Culhane's story about the prison; also your marriage. Father Ryan in Ruiralagh was most informative."

She stiffened.

Good. Let her worryT "So, you see, I do have ways, but I have no intention of using them."

She said nothing, watched him.

"You're right about one thing; our marriage was arranged, but not because Napoleon desired you. At the time, he couldn't have cared less. You were only seventeen."

She stared at him. "You?"

With a wry smile,
Raoul
nodded. "Remember you were afraid your father had selected Valera, the Spaniard, as your future husband? Valera was only a ruse to turn you to me. I was to save the lady fair from his lecherous grasp." His smile grew even more rueful. "Only everyone stepped out of character. The schoolgirl turned out to be the most intriguing nymph I'd
ever
seen, and the villain was in earnest when he tried to rape her; to this day, I cannot blame him. I had all I could do to keep from taking you myself, but if I had taken your virginity, I would have been killed. Valera was, you know, less than a day's ride from Windemere."

Her unblinking expression made him feel awkward, but he plowed on, "On the other hand, I. . . wanted you as a woman, not an innocent."

"You were willing to marry me in that condition."

Now he felt his way. "I cannot deny that. I didn't love you, although I was delighted with the prospect of having you. I was to return to England in the spring. Then the Egyptian campaign threw everything awry. By spring, your father was reluctant to negotiate, I thought because he thought Napoleon would be trapped in Egypt." He hesitated. "I was disappointed, more than I believed possible. Then when I saw you in Ireland, I became determined to have you whether anyone approved or not, although I'll admit I Was keener on a mistress than a wife. As it was, Napoleon still desired the marriage for exactly the reason you hit on: a legal transfer of your property to the Republic and an alliance with the old regime."

"Why does he want to convert the property according to pre-Revolutionary laws,
Raoul?"
she asked.

"That, you will have to ask Napoleon. I only know it takes a lot of money to outfit an army."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then, to finance his campaigns, he
's
draining the
Vigny
estate?"

"Among others."

"But he could use the estate without my cooperation."

"Easily."

She stared at him. "You were telling the truth when you said certain properties had been sold."

He grimaced sheepishly. "I didn't really think you'd accept the ruse of patronizing husband."

"What a wretch you are,
Raoul,"
she sighed, and sagged into a chair.

"But I do have a certain boyish charm, you must admit," he coaxed, "and I do love you. I was even glad to marry you." His cinnamon eyes grew warm and yearning.

"Will you still love me when I cut off Napoleon's supply of money?"

He appeared genuinely astonished. "But why would you do that? He'd simply rescind the conversion of property and imprison you. Culhane and I would have adjoining cells."

"Not you,
Raoul,"
she said amiably. "You'd be sole heir and director of my fortune. But I don't believe there's any immediate danger of my confinement. It would be too embarrassing for the First Consul to pack his fairy-tale princess off to a dungeon; it might even look as if he was piqued because she'd refused his advances. So that just leaves Sean Culhane's neck on the block, doesn't it?"

He held his breath.

"I have no intention of thwarting Napoleon. I just wanted to hear what you'd say if I proposed it."

He did not quite know how to take her ambivalent reaction. "Does . . . that mean you'll become Josephine's companion?"

"Why not? It seems a silly charade. It would be so much simpler to escort me to the First Consul's bedroom and hold out your hand for your reward; perhaps his valet will expect a small percentage, but after all, these transactions are a pimp's function, are they not?"

His fingers trembled with the urge to hit her again. "Jesu," he breathed, then his face contorted in real pain. "I don't want you to go to Napoleon! On my life, I don't! You're my wife. The idea of sharing you sickens me."