Dancing on the Wind

Chapter 26

The Gypsy Less went well even though nightmares had disturbed Kit's sleep again the sight before. As she danced through her role, she wondered if Lucien had arrived early enough to be in the audience. She suspected that he was present because she felt that someone was watching her with more than usual intensity. She hoped he enjoyed the view of her tattoo.

The performance left her exhausted and drenched in sweat, so she bypassed the green room. Her dressing room was tiny, but all hers since she was now a lead attraction with the company. She removed her black wig, washed off her face paint, and changed from her costume into a dress of Kira's, which was more dashing than her own wardrobe. Though she dared not risk intimacy with Lucien again, she did want him to be tempted. She was discovering that prim Kathryn had a shameless streak.

She smiled as she brushed out her hair. The three days since she had seen him seemed like forever. Perhaps they couldn't touch-or at least, only a little-but it would be wonderful simply to be with him. In his presence it was possible to believe that all would be well.

Her musing was interrupted by a knock at the door. She leaped up from the dressing table. Lord, she was acting like a giddy girl! But Lucien wouldn't mind.

Her greeting died on her lips when she threw open the door. It wasn't Lucien. Instead, a tall, dark-haired man stood in the shadowed hall. Her first reaction was a sense of familiarity, but when she looked more closely, she realized that he was a complete stranger.

He wasn't the first admirer of Cassie James to find his way to her dressing room, and he wouldn't be the last.

She swallowed her disappointment and gave him a friendly smile, the way Kira would have. "Good evening. Did you enjoy the play?"

"Enjoy the play?" His mouth twisted. "I scarcely noticed it. All I saw was you." Without waiting for permission, he moved past her into the dressing room.

Obviously, he knew Kira well. In the brighter light, Kit saw that his features were good, but he was thin to the point of gauntness, and a menacing scar curved from his temple into his overlong hair. He was poorly dressed, his garments ill-fitting and shabby, yet paradoxically he carried himself like a man of consequence. She tried to match his appearance to the brief descriptions that Cleo had given her, without success. Of course, Cleo couldn't know every man Kira had ever met.

Deciding that casual friendliness was the best approach, Kit said, "It's been a long time."

"It's been an eternity." He turned his palms upward. "You win, sweetheart. I surrender-foot, horse and cannon."

It was worse than she had feared, for clearly he had known Kira very well. When she hesitated, wondering about the best way to respond, he said with painful humor, "I know I look like something your cat left on the doorstep, but surely you haven't forgotten what you said the last time we saw each other. Perhaps you need a reminder."

Before she could guess his intention, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a crushing embrace. There was raw hunger in his kiss, and a possessiveness that was a little frightening.

She shoved him away, saying flippantly, "Don't rush your fences. As I said, it's been a long time. Tell me where you've been and what you've been doing." She retreated across the room, wondering how long it had been since the end of the performance and whether there was still a chance that Lucien might come. "Would you like a glass of sherry?"

He stared at her, feverish emotion in his brown eyes. "Don't you care that I risked my life to come here? You're acting as if this is a damned drawing room."

As Kathryn, she would have made soothing noises, but tonight she was Kira. She retorted, "And you're acting as if you own me. Well, you don't, and if you won't behave in a civilized manner, I'll have to ask you to leave."

A long moment of silence throbbed between them. Then he said softly, "So you want me to be civilized." He picked up the chair at her dressing table. She thought he was going to ask her politely to sit.

Instead, he raised the chair above his head, then smashed it viciously into the wall. Shards of wood flew in all directions, bouncing crazily and shattering her dressing mirror. "Sorry, Kira, but I'm in no mood to be civilized," he said, his voice all the more frightening for its restraint. "I would never have survived the last two years if I hadn't become a savage, and savagery is not something one can put aside like an old shirt."

She flattened her back against the wall, her heart pounding as she considered shouting for help. No, she would never be heard above the racket in the green room.

Then she caught her breath. He had endured savagery for two years…

The pieces snapped into place. This must be the man Kira had fallen in love with, which was why he had seemed familiar even though Kit had never met him. Perhaps he hadn't left her sister voluntarily, but had been sent to prison. His present fury made it easy to believe that he was a criminal, or perhaps mad. Either possibility would explain Kira's misery and refusal to discuss her heartbreak.

"I'm sorry for what you've had to endure," she said, trying to sound conciliatory. "Tell me about it."

"I didn't come here to talk about my bad luck," he growled. "I came here for you."

She hesitated. If her sister was in love with this man, Kit couldn't send him away. She must confess who she was and hope that he would honor her confidence. Perhaps he might even know something that would help in the search for Kira.

Too much time had passed while she thought. "You're trying to think of a tactful way to say that feelings change in two years, aren't you?" he said, anguish in his face. "Well, mine didn't, and they never will."

It was indecent to let this stranger bare his heart to the wrong woman. She raised her hand to cut off his words. "Please, don't say more. I'm not who you think lam."

Before she could say more, his expression changed. "No, you aren't," he said bitterly. "I thought you were loving and honest, even though you were an actress, but you're as much a whore as the rest of your breed. Very well, I'll treat you as one. I'm afraid I don't have the price of a night with me, but surely I have some credit left from the gifts I gave you before."

He trapped her against the wall and kissed her again, this time with punishing force. Though she fought him, his thinness disguised sinewy strength. His hips ground into hers, and he clamped his hand on her breast. She bit his tongue.

He jerked his head back and growled, "You little bitch!"

She tried to wrench herself away, but he caught her and pinned her to the wall. They stared at each other. In his burning eyes she saw the struggle between rage and reason.

With a harsh squeal the door swung open. Kit and her assailant both looked up to see a travel-stained Lucien. Summing up the situation instantly, he strode into the room, his eyes feral. "Let go of her nowl"

"So this is why you're playing Miss Modesty!" the dark-haired man exploded. "I taught you too well. I should have known that once you discovered the delights of fornication, you wouldn't be able to keep your legs together. How many lovers have you had in the last two years? Or have you lost count?"

Before she could answer, he released her and sprang across the small room to make a wild swing at Lucien. Kit cried out, but Lucien had already reacted. In one Juid motion he sidestepped the blow and smashed a hard ist into his assailant's jaw. The man made a gurgling jound and dropped like a felled ox.

Lucien stepped over him and gathered Kit close. "Did he hurt you?"

"N-not really." She buried her face against his shoulder, wishing he could touch every part of her at once. He smelled of mud and horse and safety.

Lucien kissed her forehead and stroked her back and shoulders, kneading the fear from her muscles. "Who is he?"

She gave a shaky laugh. "We never did get to introductions, but I think he must be the man Kira fell in love with several years ago. She would never have made him free of her nickname if she weren't serious."

Lucien studied the dark-haired man, whose temporary stupor was passing. "His manners need work."

"He was badly upset." She shivered. "But I'm very glad you arrived when you did."

The man sluggishly pushed himself to a sitting position. A bruise was rapidly forming on his jaw. "Go ahead," he said wearily. "Call the watch or the magistrate or whatever the hell you use for police in London. I really don't care."

Lucien looked at him narrowly. "From your accent, you must be American or Canadian."

"American." The stranger gave Kit a satiric glance. "Naturally, you're too clever to tell the current lover about the former ones."

"If you don't stop making insulting remarks to the lady, I'll break your jaw," Lucien said pleasantly. Releasing Kit, he reached down and hauled the other man upright. "Do you have anything to drink, Kit? I think this gentleman could use some refreshment."

She went to the cabinet that held the sherry. Trust Lucien to notice the subtly un-English accent Thinking that he could also use something after his long journey, she poured two glasses and gave one to him and the other to the stranger, who was now sitting on the chaise, his head bowed. "Brace yourself," she said. "I'm not Kira, I'm her twin sister, Kit. Obviously she never mentioned me."

His head snapped up, and he stared at her incredulously. Then he lifted his free hand and skimmed his fingers over her face. "Oh, God," he whispered. "It's true-you're not Kira." His face grayed. "I'm sorry, so sorry. If I'd known, I would never have behaved as I did."

"I would hate to think you considered that an acceptable way to treat my sister," she said crisply. "Of course, if I were Kira, I would have behaved differently myself."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "For two endless years the thought of Kira kept me alive. I expected you… her… to fall into my arms. When you treated me like a casual acquaintance, I… I went a little crazy. I hope you can forgive me."

She studied his pale face. Poor devil. "Forgiven and forgotten. But who are you?"

"Jason Travers." His mouth quirked. "Rather belatedly at your service."

"A relative?" Lucien asked.

Kit's eyes widened. "I believe this must be the American second cousin I mentioned-the one who is now the fifth Earl of Markland."

Lucien whistled softly. "Interesting. The fact that he's a peer could be useful if the authorities discover his presence." To the American, he said, "You just escaped from the hulks?"

Kit exclaimed, "Those ghastly prison ships moored out in the Thames? Surely not!"

Jason smiled humorlessly. "I'm afraid so-Hades afloat. Yesterday I had an opportunity to go over the railing, so I did. Damned near froze, got dragged down by debris in the filthy water, and almost didn't make it to shore." He regarded Lucien warily. "How did you figure that out? And who are you?"

"Lucien Fairchild, the future husband of the young lady you were mauling." Lucien held out his hand. "You look like a man who has been on prison rations. Since there are some American prisoners of war on the hulks, it seemed a likely explanation."

Jason shook the proffered hand, then took a swallow of sherry. He was trembling and appeared on the verge of collapse.

Lucien said to Kit, "We should take him to my house, I think. Obviously he needs food, clothing, and rest."

She nodded agreement. Her new-found cousin looked up in confusion. "You're not going to send me back to the hulks? The last I heard, our countries were at war."

"God willing, not for much longer. It was a damned fool war to begin with. And frankly, I wouldn't send a rabid dog to the hulks." Lucien helped the American to his feet. "Can you walk? Good-carrying you would be a bit conspicuous." He put his arm around Kit's waist, and the three of them went outside, where his carriage waited right outside the stage door.

Half an hour later they were in the kitchen of Strathmore House. Kit noted that Lucien was surprisingly familiar with the area for a peer; midnight raids on the larder must not be uncommon. He even found a pot of soup. Kit heated it while he rummaged for bread, cheese, and a steak and kidney pie.

In spite of his obvious hunger, Jason Travers was unable to eat much. After pushing away his soup bowl, he studied Kit. She became aware of his gaze and glanced up inquiringly.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I know you're not Kira. If I hadn't been expecting to see her, I would have realized the moment I laid eyes on you. Yet the resemblance is astonishing."

"You're not the first to be confused," she remarked. "Even our father couldn't tell us apart."

"Then he wasn't paying attention." His hands tightened around his mug of ale. "Where is Kira? I assume she must be in some kind of trouble."

Tersely, Kit explained about her sister's disappearance and her own impersonation. Jason's face darkened as she spoke. When she finished, he said with barely suppressed violence, "Damnation, I've felt that something was wrong for weeks, but assumed it was one of the strange fancies one gets in prison." He rubbed the scar on his temple, which was visibly throbbing. "I suppose that was why I risked trying to escape-I knew I had to find her."

Recognizing a distress that nearly equaled her own, Kit said reassuringly, "Wherever she is, she is in good health-I would know if she weren't. And we're doing everything we can to get her back."

"Tell me what I can do," he said, his expression like granite.

"Don't worry," Lucien said, pouring more ale for each of them. "You'll be conscripted if necessary. First we have to locate her. But now it's your turn to talk."

"Yes, I'm curious how you met my sister."

Jason closed his eyes briefly, marshaling his thoughts. "Four years ago your family solicitor notified me that I was the new earl. Because of the late earl's improvidence, there was no financial legacy, so I scarcely paid attention to the letter. My grandfather was a younger son who had emigrated to America and maintained only the most tenuous connection with his family. As an American I couldn't hold the title, so the whole subject was of only intellectual interest.

"However, when business called me to Britain, I found I had a certain curiosity about where the family came from. After I'd finished in Liverpool, I traveled up to Kendal. The current owner of the estate showed me around and invited me to dinner. I looked at the parish church with all of its memorials to dead Travers and rode through the hills and generally found it an interesting trip." He made a face. "I see why my grandfather left, though-it was the dampest, grayest place I've ever seen."

Kit smiled. "Westmoreland is wet even by British standards, but one grows accustomed. The countryside is very beautiful."

"In a bleak sort of way," he agreed. "I was about to leave when the innkeeper told me that one of the late earl's daughters had just arrived at the inn. He said Lady Kristine was visiting because she and her sister had been slowly paying off their father's debts, and that she had probably come to make the last installment and thank the creditors for being patient."

Lucien cocked an inquisitive brow at Kit.

"Not Papa's gambling debts," she said. "His ghastly gamester friends can fry in hell for all we care. But we felt an obligation to pay the tradesmen. We would have been in rags and living on porridge if the Kendal shopkeepers hadn't extended credit to the family."

His eyes glowed with the tenderness that turned them gold. "What an honorable pair you are."

She traced a figure eight in spilled ale. "Kira did more than I; successful actresses earn more than scribblers."

"All the more credit to you." He took her hand under the table, his fingers lacing through hers.

"The innkeeper spoke very highly of you both," Jason said. "Since I was curious about my English cousin, I asked for an introduction to Lady Kristine. She was… not what I expected." A reminiscent smile played around his lips.

When the silence became lengthy, Lucien said, "We may assume that the stars stopped in their courses and angelic choirs sang?"

Jason pulled himself back to the present. "That's a fair description. I followed her to York, where she was performing. For the next weeks…" His voice thickened, and he stopped.

"Did Kira want marriage, but you couldn't bring yourself to marry an actress?" Kit asked, an edge in her voice.

"No!" He gave her a fulminating glance. "I did propose to her-in fact, I damned well got down on my knees and begged-but she refused to marry me unless I settled in England. I don't know whether she wanted to be a countess, or whether she was enjoying her career too much to leave, but I couldn't agree to give up my home and country."

"Not an easy choice," Lucien agreed.

"We had an almighty row. I told her if she changed her mind, she knew where to find me in Boston. She answered that if I changed mine, she'd welcome me back with open arms, but otherwise never to darken her door again."

"No wonder you were so angry when you showed up and my arms weren't open," Kit said.

He ran a distracted hand through his dark hair. "I haven't known a moment's peace since I left York. After I got through cursing Kira, I missed her horribly. So I started to think seriously about moving back to the old country even though, like any good American, I despise the British government. It's rotten to the core."

Kit shot a glance at Lucien, who had spent much of his life defending that government. He said only, "There are many here who would agree with you, but a government is not a nation."

Jason gave a lopsided smile. "True, and when I thought about it, I realized that I like the English as individuals. Since I don't have any close family left in America and my business, which is shipping, could be run as well from Britain as Boston, I decided to go back to Kira, hat in hand, and offer to settle here. Then the war broke out. I volunteered my services, and a few months later I was a prisoner in one of the hulks, living on swill and praying that I wouldn't die of jail fever."

"The hulks are the vilest prisons in Britain," Kit said gravely. She had written several furious articles about how inhumane they were. "You're lucky to have survived."

"Believe me, I know," Jason said with an involuntary shiver.

Lucien commented, "You were a privateer captain?"

The American stared at him. "You must be a damned uncomfortable man to know. How did you guess that?"

"Only someone captured at sea would be likely to end up in a British prison rather than in Canada," Lucien explained. "You mentioned that your business was shipping, and you seem like the sort who prefers giving orders rather than taking them. Hence, a privateer seemed probable. Still, I'm surprised that an officer was sent to one of the hulks."

"The captain of the frigate that captured the Bonnie Lady took a personal dislike to me and used his influence to see that I was sent to the rottenest prison available."

"You said that you escaped over the side and swam to shore," Kit said. "How did you manage for money and clothing?"

"I broke into a used clothing shop near the waterfront and outfitted myself with the best I could find," the American said uncomfortably. "By chance, I also found some money hidden under a pile of shirts."

"If you remember the name and location of the shop, I'll send payment for what you took," Lucien said.

Jason gave him a quick glance. "I would appreciate that. I swear I'll pay you back."

Lucien made a deprecatory gesture. "After the peace treaty. What happened then?"

"I was going to take a coach to York in the hopes that Kira was still playing the northern circuit, but at the coaching inn I saw a playbill posted for The Gypsy Lass, starring Cassie James, so I went to the theater." He sighed, his face haggard. "I thought my luck had changed. Instead…"

After another silence, he said, "That sounds ungrateful. Believe me, I appreciate how fortunate I am that you aren't sending me back to that hellhole."

Lucien smiled a little. "Since we are practically related by marriage, it would be bad form for me to permit you to starve on a godforsaken tub on the river." He stood. "You look dead on your feet. Get some rest. We'll talk again in the morning."

Kit took the American's thin hand in hers. "We'll find her, Jason-or die trying."

"Let us hope it doesn't come to that," Lucien said quietly.

Kit cleaned up after the meal while Lucien took Jason off to a guest room. When he returned, he wrapped his arms around her as if the action was as natural as breathing. She leaned into him, her fatigue and tension dropping away like petals falling from an overblown rose.

"Do you resent his closeness to Kira?" he asked.

"My newfound cousin was right-you know too much." She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I like Jason… he seems an honorable sort and obviously he loves Kira deeply. If I read her feelings correctly, she loves him just as much. God knows that I truly want her to be happy."

She gave a soft, unhappy exhalation. "But at the same time, I do resent his coming between us. After she met him, she started shutting me out. She had every right to do that. And yet…" Kit hid her face against his shoulder and said wretchedly, "She never even told him we were twins! That has been the most significant fact in my life, yet she didn't think it important enough to tell him."

He stroked her head tenderly. He was getting very good at soothing her, she thought with a touch of hysteria.

"Perhaps the omission wasn't because the relationship was unimportant to her, but because it was too important," he suggested. "I suspect that one reason idosti-cal twins like to confuse others is because it keeps people at a distance and protects the uniqueness of the twin bond. You are an aspect of Kira's life that is so special, she probably didn't dare share it until she was sure of him. Because of their different nationalities, she may have had misgivings about the relationship from the first, so she didn't tell him."

The constriction in Kit's throat eased. "I don't know if that's true, but it's a very nice explanation. I like it." She looked up at him. "Where did you learn to be so kind?"

Though the question was rhetorical, he replied, "From Linnie. Not only did she have a gentle spirit, but she taught me something of how the female mind works." His voice became self-mocking. "I also know that if she had grown up, fallen in love, and married, I would have resented her husband. Not because of any perverted physical jealousy of my sister, but because I would fear the loss of the special closeness between us."

And he had lost that closeness for all time when he was no more than a child himself. The thought made Kit feel ashamed of her own complaints. She hugged him harder, wishing she could change the past so that Elinor had survived. "You would have overcome your jealousy and wished her well with a full heart."

"You'll do the same." He nuzzled her hair. "It's very late. Why not spend the rest of the night here with me?"

When she hesitated, he said, "Only to sleep, Kit, I swear it. I don't want to do anything that might jeopardize your connection with Kira. But it's been a long, tiring day, and I would rest much better if you were beside me."

"I'd better not. What would your servants think?"

"They were all chosen for their ability to be discreet," he said lightly. "And they might as well get used to the sight of you since you're their future mistress."

He must have felt her tense, because he put his hands on her shoulders and examined her face. "It hasn't escaped my attention that when I mention marriage, you react like a rabbit that has been cornered by a ferret. Is the prospect of being my wife so distasteful?"

Lucien would be easier to deal with if he were less perceptive. Again choosing her words with care, she said, "It's not distasteful, but the possibility seems unreal. I can't see beyond Kira's disappearance to a time that is normal again."

"And that is as much as you're going to say, isn't it?" he said dryly. "Very well, I won't nag you. But I'm not going to change my mind, and I can be amazingly persistent."

"I know, to my cost." She rested her forehead against his cheek. "You're amazing in quite a lot of ways."

"Stay with me," he said softly. "Please."

It was as hard to deny him as it was for her to disagree with Kira. And the brazen truth was that she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted her. "Very well," she whispered. "I'll stay."