price for this was high, but I am sure you will find the result well worth the cost.”
“Let us hope so.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” Leather scraped over stone as Tappan stepped down from the terraced walkway. “Shall we go back and finish our brandy? My carriage will be ready to leave in a quarter hour.”
Marco waited several minutes more before easing himself away from Kate. Swiftly, silently, they fixed their disheveled clothing. Relieved that she appeared in no mood to talk, he retrieved the knife from the floor and signaled her to follow him to the door. A turn of the lever released the lock and allowed it to swing open.
They slipped out and made their way over the garden wall and back to the woodland path leading to the duke’s estate.
Leaves crackled underfoot as they skirted the lake, echoing his own conflicted emotions. He had done his duty for Lynsley—that was not in question. Yet he couldn’t help feeling that somehow he had taken shameless advantage of Kate in a moment of vulnerability. Danger was like a drug—it did strange things to the mind.
He knew that all too well. But did she?
“Kate,” he said hesitantly. “I… that is, we—”
“We need to act on Tappan’s treachery, and quickly,” she cut in decisively. “Alessandra has hinted that you occasionally work with Lord Lynsley. Have you any idea how to contact him?”
“Yes. I’ve a way to send a message, in case of emergency,” he replied. “It’s just a short ride away.”
“You shouldn’t have any trouble sneaking into the stables at this hour.” She deliberately avoided his eye. “There is a side entrance by the water troughs that is used by the grooms—”
“Thank you, but I’m familiar with the layout of the stables.”
“Very professional.” Kate quickened her pace as they reached the outer fringe of lawn. “I suspected that you were exaggerating your dissolute depravity.”
“Kate,” he began again. “What happened between us—”
“What happened between us is irrelevant at the moment,” she interrupted. “We have far more important issues to deal with than personal ones.” Her skirts swished around her exposed legs. “Good heavens, Ghiradelli. I am not some simpering innocent, about to sink into a swoon over sacrificing her virtue—again, I might add.”
Marco supposed that her cynicism should have put him more at ease. Instead, it only compounded his confusion. “You are right, of course. The threat to the peace conference must take precedence for now.” He caught her arm and spun her around to face him. A squall was blowing through and the first few raindrops began to slap against the ornamental plantings. In the awkward silence, they sounded loud as gunshots.
“But we will discuss this,” added Marco in a low voice. “Of that you may be sure.”
Her chin came up a fraction. “There really isn’t all that much to say. The interlude was pleasant.”
“Pleasant?” he echoed.
“Your reputation is well-deserved.” Kate reached up and slowly peeled his fingers from her arm. Beads of water clung to her lashes, dark as India ink in the murky shadows. Her hands were cold as ice. “Surely you don’t need to hear a paean to your sexual prowess.”
“Not unless you would care to recite it somewhere warm and dry,” he said, using sarcasm to shield his uncertainty.
“You have another assignation,” she retorted. “And you’d best hurry.” Pointing to one of the side paths, she added, “That’s a shortcut to the stables, in case your reconnaissance didn’t extend to the gardens.”
He shifted his feet uncomfortably, loath to leave her alone. “You can make it to the manor house by yourself?”
“Of course.” Kate turned away, a tangle of sodden hair hiding her expression. “I am a pirate captain’s daughter, remember? I am perfectly capable of navigating through stormy seas on my own.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Kate eased into her darkened room and quietly closed the door, hoping her muddied shoes hadn’t left a telltale trail of mud in the corridor. She didn’t bother lighting a candle to dispel the gloom. Outside, a gray, grainy dawn was hovering on the horizon. The coming day looked to be dreary, but she was too numb and exhausted to care.
The night seemed so unreal. Flashing back to the moonlit sculptures, the shadowed play of light on the lewd stone and impassioned flesh, she couldn’t help feeling as if some dark narcotic had swirled up from the marble.
Plopping down on her bed, she crossed her shivering arms and contemplated her rumpled garments. Sniff. Her nostrils crinkled. The scent of sex must be hanging like a dark