Sweet Revenge Part 6

At the same instant, a force outside slammed into the door, flinging it open. A man burst in, the smoking pistol still grasped in one hand. With the other, he raised a second weapon, its hammer already c.o.c.ked, and took dead aim at her.

A mirthless laugh welled up in her throat as she stared into the unblinking eye of the gun barrel. Of all the d.a.m.nable ironies-she had survived on her own in some of the most brutal h.e.l.lholes on earth, only to stick her spoon in the wall in a nondescript London kitchen.

Oh, Papa, I'm so sorry for failing- Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saybrook lunge with his knife, and the blade, still sticky with chocolate, cut across the a.s.sailant's sleeve.

The pistol fired, echoing her scream.

Dazed and half deafened by the explosion, Arianna fell back against the wall. Through the haze of smoke, she saw a cloud of feathers floating in the air, but as her hands flew to her stomach, she found that only her padding had suffered a mortal wound. Save for a nick on her cheek from a shard of gla.s.s, the rest of her was unscathed.

"b.u.g.g.e.ring b.a.s.t.a.r.d." The a.s.sailant cursed and slammed the b.u.t.t of the spent weapon into Saybrook's ribs, knocking him back against the worktable.

Biting back a grunt of pain, Saybrook threw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding a vicious smash aimed at his head. The tabletop s.h.i.+vered, and a pewter tray crashed to the stone tiles, along with a basket of cutlery.

A kick caught him flush on his injured leg, and Arianna saw his face contort in pain. "Duck!" she cried, casting a look at the spent pistol just out of arm's reach. If the fight s.h.i.+fted just slightly, she would have a chance. . . .

Saybrook's hands clenched and somehow his fingers closed around his cane. Blocking a punch, he countered by ramming the silver k.n.o.b into his a.s.sailant's groin.

The man dropped to his knees with a strangled snarl. "You're a dead man," he rasped, sweeping up a bigbladed butcher's knife from the floor. His voice was further m.u.f.fled by the black silk mask covering his whole head. There was a slit for his mouth and two rough-cut holes for his eyes, which blazed with a malevolent gleam. "You and that nosy little she-b.i.t.c.h will soon be feeding the fish in the Thames."

The slim ebony stick wasn't much of a match for the length of murderous steel. Saybrook shuffled back, darting a sidelong look at the cleavers hanging at the far end of the overhead rack. Arianna saw it, too-another step or two would bring them within his reach.

"De Quincy!" she warned.

The a.s.sailant had scrambled to his feet, and with a roar of rage launched into a head-on charge.

Bracing himself, Saybrook managed to block the first stab. He held the advantage in height, but the other man was built like a bull, with thick limbs and slabs of solid muscle. The blade flashed again, slicing the cane in two.

"The next one will sever your jugular."

Saybrook ducked the slash and spun around, raking the jagged wood across the man's knuckles.

Blood welled up from the furrow, but the a.s.sailant kept hold of his weapon. Its steel danced through the air, sleek and sinuous as a snake ready to strike.

Antic.i.p.ating the blow, Saybrook quickly dodged to his left, but his leg, weakened by the struggle, was slow to react. The knife cut through his trousers, scoring a gash in his thigh.

Arianna bit back a cry.

The momentum of the attack sent both of them sprawling to the floor. Saybrook landed awkwardly, his head hitting hard against the stone tiles. The other man fell on top of him, flailing, cursing, kicking.

The blood pounding in her ears, Arianna watched with a strangely detached sense of calm. It was over. Saybrook was trying to fight off the attack, but it looked as though his strength was ebbing fast. In another moment, she, too, would be dead.

With a savage snarl, the a.s.sailant reared up. His upraised arm hovered for a heartbeat in the hazy shadows. . . .

Thwock. Steel stabbing into flesh made a sickening sound.

Then, as if in slow motion, the blade fell harmlessly from the man's lifeless fingers and his body toppled forward, landing heavily atop Saybrook's sprawled form. The impact appeared to rouse him from his momentary stupor. Twisting out from beneath the limp limbs, he eyed the hilt of a carving knife protruding from the man's back and expelled a ragged breath.

"Thank you," he croaked, slowly levering to his feet.

"De rien," muttered Arianna, wiping her red-stained fingers on the remains of her smock. "You saved my life earlier. Now we are even."

She quirked a sardonic smile, but realized her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Clasping them to her mutilated belly, she slanted a look at the lifeless body. "Oh, merde." Her words were barely a whisper. "Now I am really in the suds."

Saybrook bent down and pressed a finger to the man's throat. "The fellow is dead," he confirmed after several long moments.

Arianna blinked. "I . . . You . . . you are hurt," she said, eyeing his slashed trousers, the fringes of charcoal wool now black with blood.

"Just a scratch," he replied. Sitting back on his haunches, he slowly peeled the mask from the corpse's face.

"Merde," she muttered again, echoing her earlier epithet. It seemed exactly the right word to sum up her sentiments.

"Do you recognize him?" he asked.

Arianna nodded grimly.

"So do I." But before he could elaborate, the hurried thump of boots upstairs warned that all h.e.l.l was about to break loose.

How long had it been since the first shot? A few minutes at most, she calculated.

"Bolt the door," he suddenly ordered.

Arianna hesitated.

"Quickly, G.o.dd.a.m.n it! " He rushed to the window and checked the back garden. Seemingly satisfied, he turned. "Then hide in the pantry. Don't make a sound."

At the moment, he seemed like the lesser of two evils, so she decided to do as she was told.

Tucking the mask in his pocket, Saybrook hurriedly retrieved the pistols and dropped them close by the body. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the knife from the dead man's back and rolled the body over. "G.o.d forgive me," he muttered, cutting several quick jabs into the fast-cooling flesh before lodging the blade between two ribs.

What was he doing? she wondered, casting a sidelong glance at the macabre scene.

After reordering a few of the other fallen objects, Saybrook rose awkwardly to his feet.

"Open up! Open up!" A fist pounded on the kitchen entrance, rattling the locked latch.

"I'm coming!" Glancing down at his bloodied trousers, Saybrook gave a wry grimace. "I won't have to exaggerate my own inept.i.tude," he added under his breath.

Shooting back the bolt, he flung the door open. "Don't just stand there," he snarled at the four guards who were staring in bewilderment at the carnage. "The chef has escaped. I tried to stop him but the d.a.m.ned fellow is as skilled as a butcher. You and you"-he jabbed a finger at the two closest men-"go after him. He fled through the garden. But have a care-he's armed and dangerous."

As the pair headed off in pursuit, Saybrook quickly turned to the remaining men.

Crouched in the darkness, Arianna listened to his orders, growing more mystified by the moment. He was saving her from the wolves. But why?

Through a crack in the door, she saw Saybrook grab the nearest man by the arm. "I want you to carry a message to Mr. Basil Henning, at number six Queen Street-and do it with all haste," he barked. "Tell him that Lord Saybrook needs to see him immediately, but say nothing of what has happened. You are to wait and escort him back here. Understood?"

"Yes, milord!"

Milord? She frowned, feeling even more disoriented.

Saybrook waved the man on his way, and then addressed the last man. "And you are to remain with the Prince Regent. Lock yourself in his chamber, draw the curtains, and admit no one until I come and tell you otherwise." He paused for a fraction. "Is that clear?"

The man snapped a salute.

"Go!" he ordered.

Drawing a deep breath, Saybrook waited for several long moments before approaching the pantry. He opened the door a touch more but did not enter. "I a.s.sume you have female clothing hidden in your room."

"Yes," answered Arianna in an equally low voice.

"Get dressed. And pack up any traces of your disguises," he said curtly. "Be quick about it. When the moment comes, we will have to move fast. In the meantime, stay quiet as a church mouse."

Arianna didn't waste any time with questions. Gliding past him with quick, silent steps, she slipped into the shadows of the bedchamber.

"Who the devil are you?" he growled.

"I could ask the same of you, sir."

He made a face. "A far more pressing question for both of us, Miss Smith, is why Major Crandall, late of the Horse Guards and Lord Grentham's senior staff, is lying dead on the kitchen floor."

6.

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano Oh, how I had to laugh when I found another old journal in which the writer debated whether it was Columbus or Cortez who brought the first cacao beans to Europe. My research leads me to agree with his conclusions that Columbus had little interest in chocolate. But a far more delicious discovery was that English pirates who preyed on the Spanish treasure fleets sailing from the New World once burned an entire cargo of cacao beans, thinking they were sheep t.u.r.ds! Sandro will find that story greatly amusing. . . .

Mini Brownie Cupcakes 4 sticks unsalted b.u.t.ter, cut into pieces

8 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped

1 cups all-purpose flour

cup unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably

Dutch-processed)

teaspoon salt

3 cups granulated sugar

8 large eggs

vegetable-oil cooking spray

confectioner's sugar (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350F and line 2 mini-m.u.f.fin tins with liners. Spray liners with cooking spray.

2. Melt b.u.t.ter and chocolate in a 4-quart heavy pot over moderately low heat, stirring until smooth. Whisk together flour, cocoa, and salt. Remove pan from heat and whisk in granulated sugar. Add eggs, 1 at a time, whisking after each addition until incorporated, and stir in flour mixture just until blended.

3. Spoon batter into m.u.f.fin liners, filling cups to top, and bake in middle of oven 25 to 30 minutes, or until a tester comes out with crumbs adhering. Cool 5 minutes in tins and turn out onto racks. Repeat with remaining batter.

4. Dust with confectioner's sugar if desired.

"This way-and quickly, d.a.m.n it." Wrapping his long fingers around her arm, Saybrook shoved her past the upturned corpse. "You moved fast as a snake earlier."