What Wild Moonlight (21 page)

Before she could reply, the Comtesse lifted her lorgnette and studied her critically. “Very suitable, indeed, Miss Alexander,” she intoned.

Katya forced her attention away from Nicholas. It occurred to her to wonder if the Comtesse had ever spoken to Nicholas about their conversation, but somehow she doubted it. A subtle air of quiet female conspiracy seemed to hover about the older woman.

“Do you have a wrap?” Nicholas asked.

She nodded and passed him a black lace shawl. As he settled it around her shoulders his fingers brushed lightly against her skin, causing a quivering tremor to race down her spine. Determined not to show the effect his touch had on her, she schooled her features into what she hoped would pass for an expression of cool poise. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“If you’re ready, the coach is waiting.”

“Certainly.”

They said their good-byes to the Comtesse, then Nicholas took her elbow and ushered her through the villa to their coach. Once they had assumed their seats the groomsmen urged the team out. They began the descent down the steep road of the Moneghetti, moving toward the soft glow of glittering gaslights that beckoned from the principality beneath them. Katya leaned back against the plush leather seat, listening to the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath the coach’s wheels, and the occasional creak of the springs.

In the silence that surrounded them, she turned her attention to Nicholas. As they passed the thick outcropping of jagged, white-capped rocks that she had noted before, she saw his gaze linger there. “Burdened,” the Comtesse had said. Perhaps that was the best way to describe the look of private pain and inner turmoil that marked his rugged features. As they moved past the rocks he refocused his attention on her, as though suddenly realizing he had abdicated his responsibilities as host.

“The gown is an interesting choice,” he said.

“You don’t like it.”

“Actually, it’s quite perfect for this evening.” His gaze moved slowly over her form. “But it seems rather unlike you. What made you select it?”

“The rubies, I suppose,” she replied with a light shrug, uncertain how to interpret his mood or his comments. She studied his face within the shadowy confines of the moonlight that spilled in through the windows. “Both you and the Comtesse had such an odd reaction to my appearance. Why?”

He waited a moment, as though resolving an internal debate before answering. Finally he replied, “For an instant when you entered the parlor, your resemblance to Allyson Whitney was striking. I’d never noticed the similarity before. Perhaps it was the way you stood, the way you had done your hair, or simply the gown you’re wearing. The last time I was with Allyson she wore something nearly identical to it.”

His unexpected reply released insecurities Katya had never known she possessed. The fact that Nicholas might be attracted to her because of her resemblance to his former mistress was profoundly distasteful, yet it carried an undeniable ring of truth.

“Is that what drew you to me, my resemblance to Allyson?” she asked, amazed at how cool and steady her voice sounded.

“At the time, if you recall, I was far more impressed by your amazing deftness with Lady Stanton’s handbag than by your peerless beauty. Much to my embarrassment, it was only later that I came to appreciate your more delicate charms.”

Her dissatisfaction with his answer must have shown on her face. “I hope you don’t think me so shallow or needy that I would try to relive a failed love affair by recasting the players,” he said. “Even if I were to attempt it, you are not the woman I would cast as Allyson Whitney—however superficial the resemblance. You have far too much substance for so negligible a role.”

“I see.”

As though sensing her lingering doubt, Nicholas continued smoothly, “Whatever occurs between you and me, Katya, is solely of our own making. There is nothing else—past or present—that need concern us.”

Unfortunately that wasn’t true, and therein lay the heart of the problem. They had centuries of history between them, beginning with Sacha Rosskaya and Marco DuValenti. In light of that, her worries seemed hopelessly trivial. Even if he was attracted to her because of her resemblance to his former mistress, was she not guilty of a greater deceit? She had agreed to act the part of his mistress in order to steal the scroll out from under him. If complications ensued because of her lies and deception, were they not entirely of her own making?

Rather than attempt to sort out her tangled thoughts and emotions, she turned her mind to the one element that had initially brought them together. “I presume we are making an appearance tonight in order to continue our search for the scroll,” she said. “Whom in particular would you like for me to target?”

If he was at all surprised by her abrupt change of topic, it didn’t show. “True,” he agreed, and commenced to list a number of dukes, viscounts, and earls to whom she might attach herself should the opportunity arise.

Why was it so hard for her to remember that he viewed her as nothing more than a sleight-of-hand artist he had hired as a means to an end? Unable to meet his eyes, she averted her gaze, her focus intent on adjusting the lace on the hem of her gloves. Fortunately the coach rolled to a smooth and timely stop in front of the casino, sparing her the need for further conversation. Nicholas stepped out of the vehicle and politely offered his hand, helping her disembark. Glancing around, Katya saw that the Grand Casino was rife with visitors. She wasn’t surprised. The exclusivity of the event served to draw far greater numbers than would normally be on hand.

As they moved inside, she was intensely aware of the light pressure of Nicholas’s fingers on her arm. Watching the reaction of the crowd as they moved through the bustling salons, she detected the same response to him now as she had on the occasion of the first gala they had attended, coolly deferential greetings, followed by shocked whispers, nervous excitement, and a murmur of giddy speculation trailed in their wake. Throughout it all Nicholas remained stoic and impassive, as though completely insensitive to the clamor his presence created.

“You seem to be causing quite a commotion,” she remarked softly as they strode arm in arm through the garishly lit gaming rooms.

Nicholas nodded politely to an elderly couple then tilted his head toward hers, a sardonic smile on his lips. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Are you truly so modest? Or merely blind in one eye?”

His smile widened. “How do you know you’re not the one causing the sensation?”

“I’m hardly the type to cause a commotion of any sort.”

“On the contrary, your weekly performances here at the casino are causing quite a stir,” he countered. “Whether you’re aware of it or not, you’ve become the object of much speculation.” He led her toward an isolated corner of the room, a small oasis amid the dense crowd. There he stopped and turned toward her, his ebony gaze locking on hers. “Then there’s the matter of your appearance tonight. You look beautiful, Katya.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat and managed a small, fluttery smile. The moment seemed to stretch between them. She could think of no reply to his words; none seemed necessary. Everything needing to be said was conveyed within the burning heat of Nicholas’s dark eyes.

But where the moment might have led would forever remain a mystery. The spell that had fallen between them was abruptly broken as a casino employee approached Nicholas with an offer to exchange his francs for gaming tokens.

Nicholas handed the man a thick stack of notes and received the gold tokens with a word of thanks. He then returned his attention to Katya.

“What do you like?” he inquired politely. “Roulette, baccarat, chemin de fer?”

“I’m not much for gambling.”

“I hope you’ll make an exception tonight. As my mistress, it’s your sacred obligation to toss my money about as freely as a fountain spouts water.”

She lifted her shoulders in a soft shrug. “Perhaps I’m a frugal mistress.”

“What a ghastly idea.”

The appalled look on his face aroused a note of genuine curiosity within her. “Is spending money truly that important?”

“Absolutely,” Nicholas averred. “The more extravagantly and obscenely one flaunts one’s wealth, the more renown and stature one gains.” He studied her face for a moment, then continued with a slight smile, “I’d forgotten you haven’t been in Monaco long enough to see how truly preposterous it can get.”

“What do you mean?”

He nodded toward a stunning redhead attired in a deep emerald gown that hugged her every curve. “Do you see that woman there?” he asked. “Her name is Gabriella.” He scanned the crowd, then nodded discreetly toward another woman, a breathtaking brunette who wore a gown of shimmering gold. “That’s her rival, Lianne.”

“Her rival?”

“They’re both courtesans,” he explained simply. “Each woman claims to be the most coveted courtesan in all of Monaco. As you can imagine, it’s a claim that is fiercely debated.”

It was a rather dubious distinction in Katya’s mind, but she nodded for him to continue.

“One evening Gabriella decided to outdazzle her challenger by entering the casino in an evening gown as low cut as decency allowed and wearing what appeared to be her entire collection of jewelry—tokens she had received as gifts from her various admirers. The lot included four pearl necklaces, an emerald brooch, a diamond tiara, ruby hair clips, and sapphire ear fobs. A few minutes later, Lianne, who had been forewarned of Gabriella’s decision, made her own appearance wearing a white dress of classic simplicity and a single diamond drop at her throat”—he paused and illustrated his point by lightly placing his finger on her breastbone—“followed by her poodle bedecked in the remainder of her jewelry.”

Katya couldn’t help but smile at the women’s outrageous antics. Although she hadn’t been in Monaco long, she could well envision the scene.

He returned her smile, then pressed a heavy stack of gold gaming tokens into her hand. Pressing his hand lightly against the small of her back, he urged her forward into the bustling crowd. “Now go and mingle. If it makes you feel any better, bear in mind that the proceeds all go to charity. You may be as reckless as you like in good conscience.”

Katya moved away from him, and strolled randomly from table to table, nodding to various acquaintances as she placed her wagers. Occasionally she won, more often she lost. But her mind was scarcely focused on the gaming. Instead she returned again and again to her incredible situation.

Skirting the edge of danger had never particularly enthralled her, but everything was different in the presence of Nicholas Duvall. In fact, just the opposite was true. She had always been overly cautious, prim, and prudent. But at that moment she felt more alive, more essential, than she had ever felt. Nicholas seduced her with his words, his touch, his gaze, his very being.

Awareness of him ran through her veins like fire. No matter where she moved in the room, she knew instantly where to find him. And she was intensely aware that he was watching her. She felt as though she were performing onstage for a private audience of one. The only thing that mattered was Nicholas’s approval. Somehow she had lost herself-—or maybe this was whom she was meant to be all along.

She had no pangs of guilt about feeling out her prey, casually brushing up against an earl or a viscount and searching him for the scroll. She moved through the crowd with a deftness she would not have suspected she possessed. The crush of bodies, the noise, and the large amount of liquor most of the guests were imbibing made her task easier. Whereas before she had been nervous about her undertaking, now she felt nothing more than a vague sense of ease, as though her actions were completely natural.

She was beginning to believe that the role she was playing was real—a turnabout as preposterous as believing that the magic she performed onstage was real. Both were equally illusory, but she was falling into it nonetheless. It seemed a night made for magic, and she was no more immune to the spell that Nicholas had cast over her than she was able to resist his touch.

As the evening progressed and the crowd reached its peak, Nicholas drew her to the secluded corner where they had spoken earlier. “Any luck?” he asked.

“Nothing yet.”

“Right.” His voice conveyed nothing but cool acceptance as he scanned the crowd. “Do you see that man over there? Lord Jeffrey Chalmers—the portly fellow who’s in the process of losing a fortune at roulette.”

“Yes.” She thought for a moment and frowned. “But I believe I’ve already checked his person. He wasn’t carrying the scroll.”

“Perhaps not on him, but something’s making him nervous. I happen to know that he and his wife rented a villa here in Monaco, yet he’s left the casino three times tonight and made his way across the street to the Hotel de Paris.”

“Is that so unusual?”

Nicholas shrugged. “He’s drinking heavily, and it’s clear by the way he scans the room before he leaves that he’s meeting someone over there. It may have nothing to do with the scroll, but…”

“But?” she prompted.

“He and my father were involved in a business deal that went awry—they both lost substantial sums. There was a great deal of animosity between them when my father died.”

“And you think he might be striking back by stealing your family’s scroll,” she surmised.

“I think it’s possible. Outstanding moral character is not one of Lord Chalmers’s more obvious traits.”

“I see.” Katya considered the problem for a moment. “If he has a room at the hotel, I imagine he’s carrying the key with him.”

A small, conspiratorial smile curved Nicholas’s lips. “That had occurred to me as well.”

Instantly understanding what he was asking her to do, she nodded discreetly and moved away, gliding across the room toward the roulette table. She sent Lord Chalmers her most beguiling smile as she positioned herself beside him. An expression of startled pleasure flashed across his pudgy features, then he sent her a flustered smile in return. “What color have you been finding lucky this evening,” she asked, “red or black?”