His Wicked Kiss Part 36

He smiled. "I'm only teasing." The wicked sparkle in his eyes informed her he had merely wanted to see her reaction, since the castle obviously meant a great deal to them as a couple. He gave her a wink and then glanced around at the house. "If you like this place, you shall have it."

Reminded in spite of herself of those three blissful days, Eden took her husband's arm in wary affection and steered him onward to see the ballroom. They were getting along better now than they had been since that gloomy day they had left Ireland. Admittedly, Jack's cheeky outburst in the theater the other night had disarmed Eden as much as it had the ton.

The measure of amused favor that he had won from Society by his rowdy display seemed to go contrary to what Eden would have expected, but as Martin had later explained to her, true "originals" actually led fas.h.i.+on by breaking the rules.

Jack was an original, all right, she mused. When it came to rule-breaking, he was an expert. She surveyed the ballroom and tried to imagine the two of them hosting glittering gatherings like the ones they were now being invited to.

She glanced at her husband and found him watching her again with a soft trace of a smile on his lips and a glow in his turquoise eyes. She smiled back at him, happier than she had been in weeks; nevertheless, she still got the feeling he was up to something.

And so he was.

But his secret agenda was hardly nefarious. After his breakthrough with the ton, and more importantly, with his wife the other night at the theater, Jack vowed not to squander the opportunity he had gained. He was working his way back into his lady's favor, and nothing on earth would deter him.

He had taken it into his head that perhaps she needed to be wooed and courted all over again, nice and slowly.

Rus.h.i.+ng her would only make her run from him again. All sailors had to learn extraordinary patience, waiting on the tides, waiting on the wind. If she was the moon, then he was the sea, slave to her bidding, a thrall to her mysterious pull. He mightn't like this, forced to live like a monk, but he was used to being at sea for long periods of time, foregoing the pleasures of Eros.

He always found that when he enjoyed the rites of s.e.x again, the taste was all the sweeter, more intoxicating. And so, he had made up his mind to restrain his l.u.s.t for one more week.

If she didn't give it to him by then, he had promised himself he would summon up the pirate in him and simply take the wench. He didn't want it to come to that, but d.a.m.n it, he was her husband and he had his rights. He hoped instead that buying her this house might inspire her to a more amorous form of thanks.

They finished their tour a while later and left the premises with solemn a.s.surances to the agent that, yes, they were interested and they would let him know their decision post-haste.

Then the four of them stopped about halfway through the drive back to London for a meal at a quaint coaching inn.

Jack observed the mooning looks between young Trahern and Cousin Amelia in gentle amus.e.m.e.nt, now that he knew firsthand the tender misery of falling in love. He made a few remarks to help his young friend's cause, giving Trahern openings to brag about his various feats of daring at sea.

"You should have seen him, Miss Northrop," he told the girl while they sat at the rustic table eating roast beef sandwiches and drinking ale. "There were two feluccas full of Barbary corsairs trying to pin us in, but Lieutenant Trahern ordered the men to lower the oars and somehow managed to run the frigate right through the opening between them. Cleared it with little more than seven feet to spare on both sides."

"Oh!" she said. Amelia Northrop was a sweet thing, a pale, demure blonde with a soft, melodious voice as sweet as wind chimes. She was as harmless, biddable, and gentle as her red-haired cousin was fiery and strong-willed.

"Aye, they were ready with the grappling hooks," Trahern admitted, blus.h.i.+ng modestly. "They were going to board us. Luckily Cap'n Jack was there. He fought while I sailed the s.h.i.+p."

"Did you... kill some of them, Lord Jack?" Amelia inquired in a tremulous voice. "The Barbary corsairs, I mean?"

"Ohh, I don't recall. Maybe one or two."

Trahern let out a snort of a laugh, no doubt remembering the bloodshed of that day, but when Amelia turned to him with a wondering look, he seemed to catch on that b.l.o.o.d.y butchery was not the sort of thing one discussed in the presence of a genteel and sheltered young lady-and Amelia Northrop was possibly the most genteel and sheltered creature either man had ever met.

Unsettled by the savagery beneath their attempt to conceal the reality of that day, Amelia turned to her cousin. "Edie, when do you expect Uncle Victor to arrive?"

She and Jack exchanged a subtle glance, for Eden had not told Amelia or her aunt Cecily that in fact she had run away from Papa. She shrugged. "It's difficult to say."

"Miss Northrop, you see, we're not entirely certain he'll be able to come, but if does, he should be here any day now," Jack murmured, reaching across the table to touch Eden's hand in an offering of quiet rea.s.surance.

Eden summoned a smile and gave him a small nod of thanks. "I'm sure Jack's right. Papa will be here soon."

"And Lord Arthur, too," Jack added. "I expect we'll see my uncle any day now." He hoped so. He needed the Valiant to carry materiel for his recruits alongside The Winds of Fortune on the return trip to South America.

Arthur had needed to stop at a s.h.i.+pyard to have a few repairs made on his vessel in preparation for the rigorous crossing back to South America.

By late afternoon, they all were back at the Pulteney Hotel.

Their sprawling six-room suite was a welcome haven, though Jack rather wished he would have insisted on one with fewer bedchambers. That way, Eden would have been forced to share a bed with him. Instead, it was much too convenient for her to keep a respectable distance, taking her own boudoir like a proper Society wife.

At any rate, Jack meant to drop the girls off, change clothes, and then go and visit the lads in the East End. He needed to verify how many of the smugglers' gang intended to join the ranks of his recruits. He had no doubt that word of the enterprise would have spread throughout the secretive rookeries by now. There was no telling how many of the city's tough street boys in need of an occupation might be interested in the adventuring life and the chance to earn the Venezuelans' silver.

Anything had to be better than those crowded, gin-soaked, tenement blocks full of squalor and treachery. Aye, he wouldn't be surprised if he scrounged up two hundred men in London alone-though, G.o.d knew, O'Shaunnessy, Graves, and his other Irish officer chums would have their hands full drilling such heathens and turning them into soldiers.

As it turned out, however, once he reached the hotel, developments occurred that altered his plans for the night's work.

Eden, Amelia, and Trahern collapsed into the elegant couches in the main sitting room, worn out from the long drive. They ordered refreshments from the hotel kitchens, but when the knock came at the door, it was one of the house under-butlers, who came hurrying to bring Jack a note-apparently urgent.

Jack lifted the small, folded note off the silver tray, tipped the servant a s.h.i.+lling for his pains, and opened the letter.

Meet me outside.

Manuel de Ruiz He raised an eyebrow at the imperious command, but when dealing with a trained a.s.sa.s.sin, he supposed he preferred the direct approach rather than a length of garrotte wire around his throat in a dark alley.

He turned in the doorway and glanced back at Eden. "Stay inside. Lock the door," he ordered. He sent Trahern a sharp look, warning him to be alert; his firm nod ordered the lad to stay with the girls.

Jack went down to meet Ruiz alone.

A confrontation with the a.s.sa.s.sin-turned-diplomat had been inevitable, he supposed, but the fact that Ruiz had known where to find him meant that he'd been watching the hotel. By now, Ruiz had surely gotten a good look at Eden.

No mercy, he vowed as he walked out into the street to meet the killer in broad daylight, face to face.

Jack spotted the black-haired Spaniard leaning by the corner. He was tall and fit, well dressed. Ebony hair and aquiline features. It was no wonder he had become a killer for the king, Jack thought. The gallant pride of the Ancien Regime poured out of his every movement.

Jack marched toward him, undeterred by the traffic whizzing past. Piccadilly was as busy as usual, filled with the clatter of carriage wheels and prancing horses, people milling in and out of the fas.h.i.+onable shops.

Ruiz and he greeted each other with all the cordiality to be expected between two breeds of men with nearly three hundred years of sworn enmity between them: Spanish grandees and English privateers.

"Black-Jack Knight."

"Well, if it isn't my old friend," he replied, resting his hands on his waist as he joined the Spaniard across the street from the hotel.

"You're a long way from Jamaica, Lord Jack. What brings you to London?"

At least he got straight to the point. Jack smiled coolly. "What makes you think I'm going to answer anything you ask?"

"Ah, so you do have something to hide?"

"No," Jack said as Ruiz feigned idleness, watching a pair of women walk by. "My presence in London right now has got no remote bearing on you whatsoever."

"Are you sure about that?" The Spaniard slanted him a keen glance, trying to read Jack's closed expression.

Jack folded his arms across his chest and fixed him with a steely stare. "Well, if you are so very interested, I'm here on business and to see my kin."

"Ah, of course. Congratulations on your nuptials, my lord." Ruiz raised his glance to the window where their suite was situated.

Jack's stare turned razor sharp. "If I recall correctly, senor, your one redeeming trait was at least a shred of honor."

Ruiz flashed a wolfish smile. "Thankfully, no larger than your own."

"Women and children are off limits," Jack said softly in warning.

"Of course they are."

"Remember that. You have a family, too, I understand."

"Do I?" Ruiz looked surprised.

"After our last meeting, I thought you might become a problem one day, so I took the liberty of doing a bit of research on you, Ruiz."

"Como?"

"My spies informed me you have an old, widowed mother who lives in Sevilla."

His eyes narrowed.

"My s.h.i.+ps are very fast, Ruiz. Seville is only a few days' sail from here." Jack stared at him ruthlessly. "We don't want any problems, do we? You stay away from my wife."

Ruiz finally succ.u.mbed with a haughty nod and then cast his casual pretense aside. "I have been sent to London to discover Bolivar's agent. Someone has been sent here to recruit soldiers to fight for the insurgents. We discovered the plot after our victory at La Puerta. I am warning you now that I am going to find out who this man is, and deal with him."

"I see," he replied. "And what's that got to do with me?"

"You tell me, Lord Jack."

"I don't know anything about it. I told you, I'm here on business and to see my kin."

Ruiz's stare could have bored a hole in him. "You protected the traitors once before."

"Aye, it was your arrogance that inspired me," Jack retorted.

"What?"

"You listen to me, Ruiz," he commanded, pointing a finger in the Spaniard's face. "Jamaica is my home turf. Half the island's in my pocket. How dare you come onto my island for the purpose of killing anyone without my permission? If you had shown respect and come to me," he said, pointing to himself, in turn, "I might have just as well handed them over to you for the asking."

Ruiz stared at him in incredulity.

Holding his shocked gaze, Jack lowered his hand to his side again, where his weapons lurked if he had need of them.

"Are you telling me you protected Bolivar and his men, and incurred the hatred of the Spanish Crown, simply out of your own... obstinate pride?"

"You're d.a.m.ned right," he said with a snort. "Call it obstinate if you want, but h.e.l.l, you're Spanish-you people know about pride. If a man has no pride, he has nothing."

Ruiz arched a brow.

"Myself, I don't give a d.a.m.n about politics." Jack eyed him with a cynical scowl. "Liberators, patriots-the lot of you can go hang for all I care. Profit is my creed. Ask anyone."

Ruiz appeared genuinely taken aback.

Jack stared at him, hoping he looked every inch the cutthroat privateer he had been all those years ago, raising up his empire from one s.h.i.+p.

Ruiz, thank G.o.d, was being slowly reeled in, probably because what Jack had just told him was a half-truth rather than a lie. He wouldn't have turned Bolivar over to the Spanish, but he had felt slighted and angry as h.e.l.l that Ruiz and his men had dared come ash.o.r.e without consulting him.

Pride alone had gotten him where he was in life.

The a.s.sa.s.sin studied Jack uncertainly, weighing his answer. "Do you know who the agent might be?" he asked at length. "I know you have always been well connected in this town."

He shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest, but if I did know, I can a.s.sure you, I'd make your king pay dear for the information."

"Perhaps that could be arranged. If you hear anything, let me know."

"Without delay," Jack drawled, resting his hands on his waist once more.

Ruiz's glance flicked to the window of their suite above just as Eden glided past. "She is beautiful," he said in veiled menace. "You have good taste."

"And good aim," he added softly, tapping his fingers on the b.u.t.t of the pistol by his side.

"So do I," Ruiz responded.

They parted in bristling hostility, and Jack went back inside.

"Is everything all right?" Eden asked at once, straightening up over the tray of refreshments that had arrived.

He nodded. "Trahern."

His a.s.sistant sketched a bow to the ladies and withdrew, joining Jack in the other room.

"Look. Ruiz is onto me," he told him in a rather worried tone. "He's going to be watching me like a hawk. I could go after him, but it'd be too obvious. He'll have told the amba.s.sador his suspicions about me by now. If Ruiz disappeared, I'd be the first man they'd come looking for."

"Agreed." Trahern shrugged. "I don't think it's necessary for you to get rid of him, anyway. He knows you, but I doubt he's ever noticed me. You just tell me what you want done, and I'll see to it."

"Good man." Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Knew I could count on you."

Trahern grinned. "Always."

Jack went to pour himself a drink. "I'll need you to take a larger role in bringing everything together while I distract Ruiz and whoever else may be watching."

"Done. I have only one question."

"Aye?"

"What's in it for me?"

Jack turned to him, lifting his eyebrows. "Why, Christopher! What's this? Greed? Ambition? Self-interest? I am so pleased to see my wicked ways are rubbing off on you at last. It's about b.l.o.o.d.y time."