Читать книгу My Wicked Pirate - Rona Sharon - Страница 12

Soldiers patrolled the torchlit courtyard. Alanis left the window and came to her patient’s side. Her hair was damp from a recent bath; a silk penoir hugged her body. She set the lamp on the bedside console and sat on the edge of the bed. With a light finger she swept his hair off his forehead. The heavy stuff spilled aside like cool silk, exposing his tanned, patrician profile. He made her think of Samson, the legendary hero whose hair held the secret to his great powers.

Eros groaned and stirred in his sleep.

“Sleep peacefully, Samson,” she whispered. “You’re safe with me.” She put a cool hand on his brow to check his fever. Normal. The word made her grimace. Was it “normal” for the Duke of Dellamore’s granddaughter to be succoring a notorious pirate? Was she insane?

His breathing quieted. Yet she was unable to peel her eyes off him. The man fascinated her. He had the mannerisms of a lord, the reputation of the Monarch of Hell, the body of a Greek god, the handsomest face, and when he was not pillaging—he attended balls at Versailles.

“Who are you?” she whispered. She glimpsed at the golden medallion resting on his chest. Gently she lifted it closer to the light. It seemed exceptionally rare. Shaped as a medieval shield, a cross divided it into four quarters. Two figures were carved diagonally: An eagle, its majestic wings spread open, and a serpent—the viper stamped on Eros’s purple flag. The crest resembled the one in his cabin. At the bottom was inscribed: MORS ACERBA. FAMA PERPETUA EST.

She returned the medallion to his chest, and on impulse her hand glided down his torso. His warm, bronzed skin felt velvety soft. Cubically shaped muscles undulated beneath her palm.

Eros was sound asleep, but even in his weak condition, his potent personality radiated. She touched his arm, resting on the white sheet. It was thickly corded, as she well remembered, but shirtless the muscles felt larger, utterly masculine. She caressed the veined forearm below the elbow, marveling at the softness of his skin while recalling the immense power his hand could wield. His fingers were long and graceful. They gripped her. Her eyes flew to his face.

Brilliant sapphires glinted at her beneath heavy eyelids. “What the devil are you doing?”

“Wh…what?” she asked, her heart drumming in her ear. “I, eh, I was…”

Eros exhaled and eased his grip on her hand. “Where am I?” he inquired groggily.

“You don’t remember?”

“My head.” He groaned. “It feels…wooly. I can’t seem to form one coherent thought.”

“You daftly preferred draining one of Lucas’s brandy bottles instead of taking laudanum. You are in his house, by the way, in my bedchamber.”

He smiled faintly. “Now I remember. How does your fiancé feel about my commandeering your bed? Should we expect a squadron of guards to barge in on us at any moment?”

“He wouldn’t dare. It would be the end of his naval career and quite possibly his life, if my grandfather got wind of it.”

“And my ship? Did he confiscate her?”

“After Giovanni and Nico brought you here, your ship sailed away. Your sister stayed.”

He nodded, still holding her hand in his. “Why are you helping me, Alanis? You should be begging Silverlake to hang me, not care for a strange pirate as if he were a wounded cub.”

Not caring to discuss her reasons, she tried to free her hand. Unsuccessfully. “If you wish to scribble a complaint, I’ll provide you with a plume and some paper,” she offered sweetly.

“You cannot fool me.” He slid her hand up his smooth chest and held it over his heart. “With all the venom in your tongue, you are as tenderhearted as they come. A romantic.”

Alanis’s heart missed a beat. “A romantic?”

“Obviously. Helping an injured stranger…” He shut his eyes against a stab of pain, yet he was still smiling, his chest rising and falling beneath their laced hands. “Your hand feels nice.”

She exhaled with relief. “You think helping you is a romantic deed?”

“I think it is a foolish deed. If I were your grandfather, I’d be spanking your bottom blue.” One eye squinted at her. “Perhaps I should look into the matter when I’m improved…”

“You are not my grandfather. Besides, you know perfectly well why I helped you, to get back at Lucas,” she added quickly before he jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Really?” He opened his eyes, grinning. “You’re right, Alanis. I am not your grandfather and you are not a child. You are a grown woman playing a very dangerous game with a pirate.”

“A helpless, pitiable pirate,” she pointed out while her cheeks bloomed with color.

“Well, this helpless, pitiable pirate is extremely grateful to put his life in such fine, delicate hands.” Eros raised her hand to his lips and pressed a heated kiss inside her palm.

Heat coursed through her. She took a deep breath. Time to collect her delicate hand. “Your dressing needs to be changed, and I should paste some salve over your wound to help it heal.”

He released her hand. “Where will you sleep? Here with me?” he asked hopefully.

Ignoring the question, she reached inside her medicine kit and took out a small bottle and several clean patches of linen. She peeled the fine linen dressing off and examined the stitches she had sewn hours ago. The bleeding stopped, and the skin was on the mend. She spread the white salve using her fingertips. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain.

“You have a gentle touch, Amore. Unlike other females who’ve patched me up.”

She continued to ignore him, so he grasped one of her wet locks and rubbed it between his fingers, as a tailor assessing the texture of a rich fabric. He brought it to his nose and inhaled its flowery scent. “Golden-haired girl, you could bring a good price in the Souk in Algiers.”

She smiled. “I see you are determined to annoy me, though it is not to your best interest.”

His white teeth gleamed wickedly. “I am determined to gain your attention, lovely nurse. There is a man around this wound, you know.”

“I’ve noticed.” She cleaned her fingers and gently retied the knot around the bandage.

“He may be helpless and pitiable at the moment, but he is still capable of appreciating the touch of a beautiful woman’s hand.” His fingers released her lock of hair and curled around her nape. “There’s a saying where I come from,” he whispered, drawing her head closer. “’Always beware of the Viper.’” He kissed her, as tenderly as she had dressed his wound.

His lips made her dizzy. By means of sheer willpower she managed to sit upright again. “I have a question. What does the Latin inscription on your medallion say?”

A distant look surfaced in his drugged eyes. “Death is bitter. Fame eternal.”

She tried to decipher the look, but he looked away. “You should sleep. You will feel as a new man come morning. I left you a drink of water and this…”

Eros’s head turned on the pillow. A water trencher and a glass were placed accessibly close on the bedside console, and beside them rested the orange Jasmine had flung him.

Alanis got up. The feel of his lips still hot on hers, she was eager to get away and hide in the adjacent drawing room, at least until he fell asleep. Her hand closed on the doorknob.

“Alanis.”

She turned around. His heavy-lidded gaze immobilized her.

“Thank you.”

The next day Alanis went to confront Lucas in his study. Kingston’s waterfront sprawled beyond open windows: a prosperous little harbor with ships coming and going, whitewashed houses, palm trees, and a splendid turquoise sea. Spending the next years of her life on this island appealed to her very much. She would simply have to adapt to the tropical climate. She snapped open her fan and was about to enter the den when loud voices quarrelling inside stopped her.

“You cannot hang my brother!” Jasmine raged. “He let you live because I protected you!”

“I am commissioned by the queen to sanitize these shores, and your brother will get his day at Gallows Point!” Lucas retorted harshly. “He held my fiancée captive on his cutthroat ship with all his cohorts onboard. God knows what she suffered at his hands.”

“Lady Alanis happily volunteered to treat my brother’s injury, Hunter. Besides, you did not give your fiancée much thought when she was tucked away in England. Why should it bother you now that she likes Eros?”

Alanis had to restrain herself from bursting in and giving them a piece of her mind.

“You may revere him as a god, but he is not,” Lucas growled. “And while I sincerely doubt his humanity, I assure you he’s all flesh and blood, of the worst sort, mind you, but mortal!”

“By God, you are still jealous!” Jasmine laughed. “Is it because of me or Lady Alanis? Do you suppose she’s in love with him?”

Alanis held her breath, interested to hear Lucas’s reply.

“For weeks you made me believe he was your lover. Then you side with him against me! He is practically a condemned man. There is not one power in the world that hasn’t warranted his arrest. I cannot release him. And even if I could grant him a pardon, I absolutely wouldn’t.”

“I never claimed he was my lover. You assumed he was, as the rest of the world did.”

“You didn’t see fit to enlighten me as to the true nature of your connection. Did you enjoy making me insanely jealous?”

Blinking back tears, Alanis accepted the truth: They were more than lovers; they were in love. Neither sunshine nor freedom awaited her here, only heartache. Thank God she had taken the initiative and come here. If she hadn’t, she would have wasted years waiting for Lucas to return and marry her. She had saved herself in the nick of time. So why did it hurt so much?

The doors opened. “Alis, it’s you!” Lucas exclaimed upon seeing her. He looked extremely ill at ease. “I was on my way to find you and…Jasmine is anxious to see her brother. May she visit with him in your apartment while we converse in my office?”

“Can’t see why not,” Alanis replied coolly. “He is her brother. I only hope the sentries you posted outside will let her pass. It appears I am to reside in a prison.”

“So long as you insist on nursing a dangerous criminal in your bedchamber, you shall have soldiers around you for your own protection.”

He was either a hypocrite or an idiot. “Do you see a need to protect me from a wounded man who can scarcely keep his eyelids open?”

“I do.” He sent Jasmine upstairs and invited Alanis inside his den. “The Pink Beryl arrived this morning,” he announced, shutting the double doors behind them. He assisted her into the wingchair fronting his desk and took his seat behind it. “I had a long talk with Captain McGee. Devastation. Brutality. This is what your pirate is capable of, and you choose to champion him. What am I to think, Alis? What am I to tell your grandfather?”

“What an interesting question,” she replied tartly.

“The situation is beyond the pale. I will not tolerate this kind of willfulness from you.”

The venom in his voice appalled her. “You are changed. Yesterday I had the impression Jamaica improved you. I see now I was mistaken. Three years and you cannot find half a smile to greet me with. If you wish me gone, say so at once.”

A guilty look surfaced in his eyes. He blinked and said, “Any word from my father?”

“The last time I saw the earl he was in excellent health. He sends his best.”

“Thank you. We didn’t part on the best of terms when I left England. He said he did not have an heir to spare and that if I insist on making an impression in this war, I should do it properly alongside Marlborough. I imagine he deems me a poor legatee for his earldom, but consoles himself that at least his grandchildren will be half Dellamores.”

The earl’s disapproval was an old sore with Lucas. “His lordship is very proud of you,” she assured him. “He speaks of your accomplishments to anyone who cares to listen.”

His rueful gaze perused her appearance. The bright sunlight highlighted her aquamarine eyes so that they seemed to reflect the sea stretching beyond the windows. She had tiny pearls in her earlobes, golden locks spilling over a bare ivory shoulder. Her lace décolletage presented an alluring view of skin. “My, but you do look fetching,” he admitted warmly. “Can’t locate one hint of the ragamuffin who wrestled me for a seat on the old elm tree.”

Her umbrage mellowed a bit, yet she couldn’t decide if he regarded her as a man or as a friend. In many ways she considered him more of an older brother. She found him pleasing to the eye, but unlike the Italian upstairs, there was nothing pulse-quickening about him. “It is good to see you,” she allowed frigidly. “Three years is a long time.”

“Indeed it is, and we should make up for it. We have much catching up to do.”

Perhaps all was not lost, Alanis mused. The island was lovely, and she always dreamed of living in a place such as this. She felt at ease around him, too; no danger lurked in dark corners.

Lucas smiled. “Tell me, was the voyage agreeable? I’m curious to learn how you obtained Dellamore’s permission to come here. I scarcely believed it when I saw you on the pirate ship. If it hadn’t been for your presence onboard, I’d have blasted the damnable villain out of the water.”

She had no desire to get into that again. “Dellamore was very stubborn, and the war did not help my cause one bit. I had to explain that you and I would never be wed as long as an ocean runs between us, and that since you cannot abandon your post I must come to you. He is anxious for me to be married so that once he’s no longer among us I won’t be left unprotected.”

“Your grandfather needn’t worry. We’ll be married soon and you’ll sail back to England.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alanis blinked. Marry then leave?

“Alis, do not tell me you’re squeamish about marrying me. It was decided ages ago.”

“I am not squeamish. I am wondering why I should wed you at all if I’m to be sent home.”

“We live in perilous times, perpetually threatened by French and Spanish warships bent on destruction. It’s too dangerous for you to stay, and I’m too busy to keep you diverted.”

Alanis bolted to her feet. “That won’t do, Lucas. I came to live here as your wife, not to be shipped home as a useless piece of luggage.” She couldn’t believe he intended to seal her fate so cruelly—locking her away in Drearyshire and throwing away the key. She would fight him tooth and nail, even cry off the engagement. “I won’t stand for it!” she vowed. “I won’t!”

“Calm down, Alis.”

“I won’t calm down. Not until you put this daft notion of sending me home out of your obtuse head. You of all people should know how I despise sitting in wait. I’ve waited all my life for the opportunity to see the world. I want to explore that which I have missed. I want to live!”

“Well, you can’t live here,” the viscount determined.

“Why not?” Her mind reeled, signaling a pending headache. It was a déjà vu of all the aggravations she had suffered over the years: when her parents left her at home to travel the world, when Tom left for Eton, and when the duke was busy with affairs of state.

Lucas set his jaw. “Why do you insist on defying me? Yesterday you made a spectacle of yourself volunteering to care for a pirate. Now you are acting as a flighty wench. I won’t tolerate unruly behavior, Alis. I am to be your husband, and you will learn to obey me.”

“Obey you?” She glowered at his pompous face, wishing she had something to throw at it.

“I am not an irrational tyrant. I am being quite reasonable, in fact, while you choose to defy me at every turn. The pirate you keep in your bedchamber is to be hanged tomorrow and you are to sail back to England as soon as the Pink Beryl is outfitted for the voyage.”

“You cannot hang a man so severely wounded!”

“I can and I shall. Let me remind you the law: ‘Any man who receives, harbors, comforts, or succors a criminal is guilty, as if he himself bore arms.’You should be grateful I do not charge you with high treason.”

She felt nauseated. “Since when have you acquired the manners of a hangman, Lucas?”

“Since you decided to make an exhibition of yourself!” he barked.

She went utterly still. Disappointment choked her. She didn’t recognize him anymore.

“I must hang him. If I don’t, I’ll be labeled an accomplice. Think of my reputation.”

“Hang your reputation! I am not so green that I do not comprehend the true reason you do not want me underfoot. But let me enlighten you as to the nature of us women. We do not care for monsters who execute our siblings. I’m certain this rule applies to mistresses as well!”

“What am I to do, then?” Lucas frowned miserably.

“Figure it out yourself!” In a whirl of salmon-pink skirts she turned on her heel and left, slamming the heavy oak doors behind her.

Jasmine found Eros asleep amidst lavender-scented sheets and fluffy pillows. Warm gusts of wind swelled the muslin drapes screening the bright sunlight. She knelt beside the bed and kissed his cheek. His eyelids snapped open. The piercing glare mellowed once he recognized the sweet face smiling at him. “Kitten.” He smiled sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Noon, sluggard!” She strutted to the window, swept the drapes aside, and crashed into a chair, propping her booted feet on a table. “Were you planning on wasting the entire day abed?”

Eros grimaced. He pushed himself up against the pillows, cursing the damned light and the damned pain. “Mannaggia. I think my head is about to explode.” He put his hands to his temples and kneaded away the pain. “Tell me everything. What are you doing with this imbecile?”

Jasmine examined the thick white bandage hugging his torso. “Hunter intends to hang you tomorrow. Nothing I say gets through to him. Do you suppose you’d be able to get out tonight?”

Eros sighed. “If I have to.” He considered her for a moment. “You’re coming?”

“If I have to.”

His eyebrow rose. “And that depends on…?” She shrugged. “Hmm. Guido tracked me down near Corsica, said you needed rescuing. He told me the pirate hunter captured your ship. Did Silverlake keep you a prisoner in one of his fortresses?”

“For a while. He wanted information leading to your whereabouts. Apparently, you are his prime target. When he realized the case was hopeless, he brought me here.”

Eros swore. “Did he tell you he was engaged or did he let you believe he was in the market for a leg shackle?”

She smiled; her brother’s perverse opinion of marriage was not foreign to her. “He did tell me about Lady Alanis. Their betrothal was arranged when they were still in the crib. He claimed they grew up together as a brother and a sister, not as sweethearts. I imagine it was foolish of me to nurture false hopes, but we fell in love. I believed he’d cry off the engagement and choose me instead. He was certainly in no hurry to return to her. I wonder why she put up with it.”

“She didn’t. So tell me, have you decided to give up your piratical existence in favor of a skirt of hoop? I’d rather you wreaked havoc on Viscount Silverlake than terrorize Frenchmen.”

“I know you’ve always wanted me to pursue a quiet life, find a husband to look after me, and live in a nice home with children. I believe I’m ready to leave the unlucky Frenchmen to you now. Poor Louis has his hands full dealing with one member of the family.”

Eros chuckled. “I missed you, Kitten. We’ve never been apart so long.”

She sighed. “I miss you all the time, Eros, but even if I lived in Agadir, you’re never there. Aren’t you tired of rampaging the high seas and fighting the King of France?”

“I never tire of pestering the King of France.”

She laughed. “I’ve heard about your new sport, collecting Louis’s frigates. How he must hate you now. He’ll never invite you to any of his balls again.”

“Of course he will. He adores me. I’m the only one who won’t let him cheat at faro.”

She shook her head, sighing. “Eros. You’ll be two and thirty this October. Don’t you ever dream of finding a woman to love, bear you children, and—”

“Let’s talk about you getting married. Tell me about your new victim. He can’t be all bad. Villains usually fence better than he does.”

She felt a rush of excitement in her stomach. “Then, you don’t mind if I—?”

“Au contraire. About time some other unlucky devil earned the privilege of pulling you out of the hot pan. I was beginning to despair I’d be straddled with the task forever.”

She smiled, then scowled. “I should hate Hunter for what he did to you.”

“Forget what he did to me. The question is—what does Silverlake have in mind for you? He’s practically a married man, Gelsomina.”

Silly tears sprang to her eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

“Don’t be discouraged,” Eros said gruffly. “I’m here now. I’ll fix everything for you. If Silverlake is the man you want, you’ll have him.”

“How? You’re a prisoner.” She sniffed. “And Hunter will never defy his father. He won’t leave his lady for a nameless hoyden.”

“You are not a nameless hoyden!” Irritated, he concentrated on getting up. He stumbled to the dresser and splashed water into a porcelain basin. Only when his head was submerged in the cool water did the stiff muscles on his back unwind. He grabbed a towel to dry his face. “Leave Alanis to me. I’ll handle her.”

“He has a thousand soldiers at his command. Even with my help, how will you manage both Lady Alanis and slipping out tonight? This house is a damnable fortress.”

He ran his fingers through his wet hair. “There must be a way. There’s always a way.” He ambled slowly to the window and gave a soft whistle when he glimpsed outside. “Difficult. Not impossible. It would be easier if you came along, but I’ll manage. Now may I have my hug?”

She sprang into his open arms. “I missed you. I can’t lose you, Eros. You are my one solid rock in the world. If it weren’t for your courage and cleverness, I’d be dead sixteen years now, buried next to our mother and father in an unmarked grave in Italy. Nothing can come between us. You know that. Not even my love for Lucas Hunter. We are blood.”

Eros kissed her teary cheeks. “I love you, too, Amorruccio. You’ll always have me.”

After the long embrace, he returned to the bed. He subsided stiffly on the pillows and shut his eyes. Jasmine dropped on the bed beside him. Lying on her stomach, she propped her elbows on the mattress and cupped her chin, crossing her boots in the air. “What sort of woman is she?”

One sapphire eye opened. “Who?”

She grinned. “Your pretty blond nurse.”

He contemplated the ceiling. “During the four days I entertained Silverlake’s fiancée on the Alastor I reached a few conclusions. One of them was that her betrothal to the viscount was not made in heaven. Perhaps with the right approach, I’ll persuade her to give him up.”

“I knew it!” She sat up. “You intend to seduce her. You’ll make her fall in love with you so that she’d eagerly follow you anywhere. You’ll ruin and cast her aside, as you do to all women!”

“I do not ruin women,” Eros stated succinctly.

“Her reputation will not survive a liaison with you, Eros, and you bloody well know it. She was kind enough to help you. You cannot repay her with a nasty ruse.”

“I won’t harm her! Debauching haughty virgins is not my primary pursuit in life. Unlike your viscount, I’ve learned to master my amorous urges.”

Jasmine eyed him skeptically. She had already surmised the lady had a soft spot for her unscrupulous brother. Yet as lovely as Lady Alanis was—and knowing Eros, he did not fail to notice—as a rule he avoided her kind, no exception. He would seduce her only to clear a path for Jasmine to wed Hunter. He would then jilt the lady, leaving her devastated. The idea did not sit well with Jasmine. Eros might not feel obliged, but she did feel indebted to the other woman. Damned if she let Eros crush the opposition in his high-handed way. “Lady Alanis comes from a powerful family,” she warned. “Her grandfather is a personal advisor to Queen Anne.”

“I know.”

“So I urge you—reconsider. I don’t think the duke will take too kindly to what you have in mind for his granddaughter. You have enough powerful enemies. You don’t need to antagonize every monarch in the universe.”

Eros turned cold, lazy eyes to her, the look in them chilling. “I don’t give a damn.”

She recognized this look. Fleets ran away from it. “‘Stefano Andrea,’” she whispered, “‘he fears no one and does whatever enters his head.’ Papa said that about you.”

“Do not call me by that name,” he bit out. “How many times must we go through this?”

“You call me Gelsomina,” she reminded him gently.

“That’s different.”

She swallowed the sad lump in her throat. “I know you are past the point of caring which sin you’ll fry for, but please, Eros, don’t hurt her. Not even your buried conscience will live down an ugly ruse such as this.”

After spending the day exploring the house grounds, Alanis returned to her apartment. She found Jasmine in the drawing room. Lost to the world, the female buccaneer sat on the couch, admiring a gown of cherry silk that Betsy had pressed for tonight’s dinner. Annoyingly, Lucas had sent his butler to inform her that a formal one was to be held and would include fifty of the island’s dignitaries. Alanis wasn’t eager to plunge into the local social scene, not while nursing a pirate in her bedchamber, but as the saying goes—la nobless oblige.

“The hooks go at the back,” she offered charitably.

Jasmine bolted to her feet, looking mortified. “Caspita! Lady Alanis! I…I apologize.” She struggled with the gown in an attempt to put it right again. She wasn’t making much progress. “I cannot thank you enough for saving my brother’s life. I’m in your debt, and so is Eros.”

Alanis smiled. Apparently, despite her swaggering independence, Jasmine wasn’t all that different from normal females. She liked pink frills. Alanis wandered in and gently rescued the gown from Jasmine’s two left hands. “How is your brother faring?” she inquired.

“Very well, considering. He did not much appreciate the chicken broth you sent for his lunch, but the footman with the bath amended his mood.”

Alanis chuckled. “An ailing individual can hardly expect to be served a savory meal sautéed in rich sauce. He should be content to be alive to eat at all.”

“He’s asleep now.” Entranced, Jasmine followed Alanis’s clever fingers as they worked their magic on the swishing silks and frills. Alanis stepped forth and pinned the gown to her front. Jasmine nearly swallowed her tongue.

“Hold this,” Alanis instructed, fastening Jasmine’s hesitant fist around a bit of silk. She smoothed her hand along the wrinkled front. “It requires a few minor alterations, but…”

“Lady Alanis—” Jasmine choked. “I cannot accept an offering from you. It is I who should reward you with gifts. Besides,” she blushed, “it would go to waste on me.”

“Oh, it’s not a gift. I’ll trade it for a pair of breeches and matching boots.”

Jasmine stared at her as though she belonged in bedlam. “Breeches, Lady Alanis? You wish to dress as a man when you own a magnificent wardrobe?”

Alanis gave a shrug. She didn’t so much begrudge Jasmine for conquering Lucas’s heart as she did for the freedom she enjoyed. This outlandish female traveled the world as a free spirit while she had to read about the world existing beyond the golden bars of her cage. “Why not? I’d love to put on breeches and strut about without a care in the world.”

“There are less gratifying aspects to dressing as a man,” Jasmine lectured. “Being looked upon as a freak of nature for one, or having to stand up to male standards in man’s world while secretly envying refined ladies who are the bane of one’s existence.”

Alanis stilled under the direct blow. Humor replaced her shock, and she sank on the couch, laughing. “The bane of refined ladies’ existence is pretty Amazons who enjoy absolute freedom and rove man’s world…and, of course, dour-faced matrons and overbearing men.”

Jasmine smiled hesitantly. “You seem highly capable of handling overbearing men.”

“Years of practice.” Alanis prettily batted her eyelashes. “My world may twinkle to the eye, but the golden bars cast the luster. I require chaperonage to take a turn in the park.”

“Indeed? Always?” Jasmine joined Alanis on the couch.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Alanis sighed heartily. “We fine ladies must travel with our very own dragon to ward off licentious males.”

Jasmine giggled. “How did your dragon react when you installed a wounded man in your bedchamber? I saw no scorching signs on the walls.”

“My dragon is housebroken. Her snorts are worse than her blaze.”

They both laughed. Jasmine said, “I can’t say the same about the dragon in your bed.”

Alanis jumped at the opening. “Tell me about him. What is he like as a brother? I’ve heard lots of stories about him, but from what I gathered these past few days he seems rather rational, deliberate, and highly intelligent. Not at all the mad monster people say he is.”

“He’s no monster. He’s a great gun and a gentle, loving brother with the heart of a lion, but the traits you listed are exactly what makes him dangerous.”

“Dangerous to the French?” Alanis subtly angled for more information.

“Dangerous to whomever Eros deems objectionable. Spain is on his blacklist as well.”

“It seems your brother is determined to single-handedly rid our world of all its undesirable tyrants. Why doesn’t he officially join the Grand Alliance? Surely it would be preferable to being tagged a pirate with a price on his head.”

Jasmine averted her gaze. “It’s hard to explain.”

Now that sounded intriguing. Alanis was prepared to sit all day and listen to stories about the man with the heart of a lion. She glanced at the door connecting to her bedchamber.

Betsy walked in through the main door. Jasmine stood. “I should leave. Thank you again.”

Alanis stood up also. “Don’t forget the gown. I’ll be happy to share Betsy when you decide to try it on. I think it was deliberately designed to exasperate. Wouldn’t you say so, Betsy?”

Betsy nodded in agreement. Jasmine took the gift with a grateful smile. “Lady Alanis.”

“Enough with the ‘Lady’ and think nothing of it. One should start somewhere.” Amazing how of all people Lucas’s mistress turned out to be a lovely person, Alanis thought. She was also Eros’s sister and that enticed Alanis to befriend her even more. “If you’d like, we may call upon a local modiste and start you up at once. Within a week you’ll have a whole new wardrobe.”

“A whole new wardrobe?” Jasmine looked dazzled.

Alanis took her arm and escorted her out the door, away from Betsy’s ears. Outside her expression sobered. “What are we to do about the hanging?”

“If Hunter doesn’t change his mind, Eros and I must leave tonight,” Jasmine whispered.

Alanis regarded her ambivalently. Should Jasmine leave, there would be no more talk of sending her home and she would have finally achieved her lifelong ambition. Yet Eros would be leaving as well. Tonight. It was too soon. Besides, didn’t she deserve better prospects than a husband pining for the woman who slipped away? “Tell me what I must do to help.”

Jasmine leaned closer. “I’ll keep on trying to change Hunter’s mind, but if you do not hear from me, please keep him occupied this evening while we make good our escape.”

“All right.” Alanis well envisioned what a dratted pleasure dinner was about to become.