Desire

Chapter Twenty-one

Lucian allowed Brynn to go first with the lamp while he carried his own pistol at the ready. He wasn’t surprised when she led him through the now-dark kitchens to the wine cellars below, nor when she slipped behind a wall of casks and bent low to open a short oaken door.

“This leads to the coast?” he asked.

“Yes. There are several caves beneath the house, connected by tunnels. The entrance from the shore is hidden in a crevice in the cliff wall.”

“Convenient for your family,” Lucian remarked sardonically.

Brynn shot him a glance but didn’t respond.

When she disappeared through the opening, Lucian followed. A narrow flight of steps hewn into the rock descended into the darkness.

Neither of them spoke as they moved downward. Brynn’s lamp cast flickering shadows over the rock, which was streaked with red and green and purple. When they reached the bottom step, the underground passage flattened out, but Lucian had to stoop to keep from striking his head.

Eventually the tunnel opened into a small cavern where he could stand up straight. This natural hideaway would be ideal for storing a cache of contraband, he knew. The Cornish coast was honeycombed with coves and ravines where a smuggler’s ketch could slip in undetected, but getting the trafficked goods to and from the beach presented a greater challenge. The usual goods would be bulky- bolts of silk, velvet, and lace, casks of wine, kegs of brandy, perhaps tea, all smuggled into the country to avoid the high taxes imposed by the British government because of the interminable war.

The floor of the cavern was wet and treacherously slick, Lucian saw, the rock worn smooth over the centuries by a trickling stream coming from deep underground. When Brynn slipped once, he reached out instinctively to steady her. She flinched at that casual contact, and Lucian drew his hand back abruptly, feeling burned himself.

She moved on through the cave into another man-made passageway cut through the rock. He glanced around carefully, marking his way, before following her. Soon he could hear the distant sound of the sea as it surged against the base of the cliffs.

Shortly the tunnel spilled into another cavern, this one already dimly illuminated by a lantern. Urgently Lucian put a hand on Brynn’s shoulder, silently detaining her. Some fifteen feet away, her brother Grayson was pacing the floor-rather nervously, Lucian saw.

Stepping past Brynn into the cavern, Lucian called out Sir Grayson’s name. The man spun around, reaching for the pistol in his belt. He froze when he saw the weapon aimed at his heart.

Lucian gestured with the barrel of his gun. “I suggest you put it down… slowly.”

For a moment Grayson’s hand clenched around the grip, but then he did as he was bid, carefully withdrawing his pistol and setting it on the rocky ground.

Then he flung his sister a despairing look. “You led him here, didn’t you? Are you pleased with yourself, Brynn, betraying your own flesh and blood?”

The pain on her face was visible, Lucian saw with a glance over his shoulder.

“I didn’t betray you,” she said hoarsely. “Lucian found us out somehow. But I was coming to find you, in any case. There may be another way out, Gray. One that doesn’t involve committing treason.”

Grayson clenched his fists, his fury evident. “Damn you, I told you, there is no other way.”

“What’s this?” Lucian interjected sardonically. “Dissension among thieves? I should think, Sir Grayson, you would show your sister more gratitude. You could never have stolen my seal ring without her help.”

Grayson’s wrathful focus shifted, and he glared at Lucian. “Brynn had nothing whatever to do with my appropriating your ring. I took it from your study over her adamant objections, and then tricked her into keeping silent.”

“Then used it to help our country’s enemies steal a scheduled shipment of gold.”

His gaze lowered. “Apparently so. I’m not proud of that. But you cannot blame Brynn. She played no part in it.”

Lucian raised a skeptical eyebrow, unsurprised that Grayson had come so readily to her defense. “You expect me to believe you? A traitor?”

“Believe what you choose, my lord. But I am solely responsible. Brynn hasn’t been involved until tonight when I demanded that she drug you.”

Lucian’s mouth curled. “And drugging me is supposed to absolve her?”

“She did it to save your hide, to keep you safe from Caliban’s men. You’re the one who should be grateful, Wycliff.”

A strange sense of relief filled Lucian to hear Brynn’s claim repeated. Perhaps, just possibly, she wasn’t guilty of treason after all.

“I intend to deal with my wife later,” Lucian replied. “For now, you’re my chief concern. I’ll thank you to return to the house with me.”

Grayson’s shoulders slumped. “No,” he said quietly.

“It will only go harder for you if you resist.”

He offered a bitter smile. “How can anything go harder than hanging? No, I’m afraid you will have to kill me, my lord. I would sooner die from a bullet than be executed for treason.”

Brynn gasped, but her brother nodded toward Lucian’s weapon. “Go ahead and fire. I don’t intend to let you arrest me.”

She stepped forward, the lamp she carried sending shadows jumping around the cavern. “No, Lucian, you can’t. I tell you, Grayson didn’t mean to commit treason. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was only trying to pay his debts, to protect his family. Please… Gray, tell him…”

“Brynn, I want you to leave,” Lucian ordered.

“No, I can’t let you shoot him-”

“Brynn,” Grayson said gently, “being shot is a far better way to die. It would spare you the shame of my hanging, as well as keep you safe. If I’m dead, Caliban and his ilk will no longer be a threat to you and Theo.”

Lucian hesitated, feeling a grudging respect for the man he should hold only in contempt. Grayson was prepared to die, that was certain. The shame in his eyes, the misery, the quiet resignation all shouted his resolve.

That hopeless look was all too familiar, Lucian reflected with a grimace. He’d seen that same despair on the face of his friend Giles. The friend he had killed.

Flinching, Lucian steeled himself against the anguishing memory, yet for an instant he was in another time-confronting Giles for his treason, being forced to end his life. For months afterward, Lucian remembered, he’d cursed the unfairness of it. Caliban was to blame for ruining countless men, men who were basically good and honorable. The bastard had ruined Sir Grayson the same way-with threats and extortion-Lucian had no doubt.

His gaze fell to the pistol in his hand. Could he repeat the past? Could he instigate Sir Grayson’s death? It would be tantamount to murder to try to apprehend the man just now, for like Giles, Grayson wouldn’t allow himself to be taken alive.

Brynn must have had the same thought, for she moved between them, tears sparkling in her eyes.

“You can’t kill him, Lucian. Please… please, I beg you…”

“Brynn, stay out of this,” her brother commanded.

She bit back a sob, a despairing sound that tore at Lucian’s heart. Hardening his resolve, he returned his gaze to Grayson. “Where do you have the gold secreted?”

Grayson nodded toward the back of the cave. “Beneath a shallow pool of water. You should take it. There’s no longer any point in my trying to keep possession of it.”

“I presume you’re waiting for your French contact to arrive?”

“Yes. A man named Jack. He was to meet me before the tide fell too low. He should have been here by now.”

“Perhaps he’s having difficulty eluding my patrols,” Lucian remarked. “I have men posted at various intervals along the coast.”

“I suspect he would have seen your patrols, but Jack is quite resourceful. He would have contrived a diversion so he could slip in to fetch the gold.” Grayson looked pointedly at the pistol. “You had best get on with it, so you can take Brynn away from here. Jack has threatened more than once to kill her. Every moment you delay only endangers her.”

Lucian felt a muscle flex in his jaw. “You’re suggesting I shoot you in cold blood?”

“If you would rather not, I can perform the task myself-that is, if you would trust me with a weapon. I give you my word of honor I will see to it.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “My word once meant something. Before this, I was an honorable man.”

Grayson was deadly serious, Lucian knew; he meant to take his own life.

“Or perhaps,” Grayson added, “all you need do is wait. Jack will be more than eager to put a period to my existence when I can’t deliver the gold. You could leave me a weapon. I promise you I would attempt to take him with me.”

“You would be willing to turn on your cohort?”

“More than willing. Jack isn’t my cohort. He’s the bastard who threatened to kill my family…” Grayson’s features contorted in a grimace. “Why do you think I gave in to their demands? Nothing else could have induced me to commit treason. But I doubt you could understand such weakness, Wycliff. You have never cared for anyone as much as your honor. You would have been stronger, had you found yourself in my place.”

Would I have been stronger? Lucian wondered to himself. I would have fought back, certainly. I would have mobilized all the private resources at my disposal, all the government forces at my command. But Grayson had few resources and fewer government contacts. And still there would have been a risk to Brynn…

Lucian shook his head, knowing he was lying to himself. He would have sacrificed his honor for Brynn’s sake. He would have done anything to save her.

Was he really so much better than her brother?

Just then Brynn took another step toward Lucian. She didn’t utter a sound, but the plea in her green eyes was wrenchingly eloquent. She might hate him if he killed her brother.

“Your sister is right,” Lucian said slowly, thinking hard. “There may be another way. For her sake, I might consider making you an offer.”

“An offer?”

Lucian glanced at Brynn. She had pressed a hand to her mouth, as if not daring to hope. “I want Caliban, Sir Grayson. But I would need your help in exposing him.”

The hope that had flared in Grayson’s eyes was quickly extinguished. “I would be more than happy to help, but I’m afraid I would be of no use to you. I’ve never seen Caliban.”

“But you’ve seen his confederates. You know his methods.”

“That won’t solve my dilemma-the threat to my family. I would rather die than see my sister or my brothers harmed. You can’t protect them from Caliban, my lord. At least if I’m dead, my family will be safe.”

“Your death could be arranged…” Lucian replied, his mind working furiously.

“No!” Brynn exclaimed in horror.

Lucian turned his attention to her, prepared to offer an explanation, but he caught the faint scrape of boot soles on rock. His glance flew at once to the far end of the cavern.

A figure moved out of the shadows into the open- a man dressed in black, holding two pistols cocked and aimed. One was directed at Grayson, the other at Brynn.

“You severely disappoint me, Sir Grayson,” the newcomer declared with the barest trace of a French accent. “I thought we had a bargain.”

Grayson’s features took on a sneer. “Jack. I have no compunction about reneging on a bargain with the likes of you.”

“Jacques, please. Jack is so… English.” The Frenchman turned to Lucian. “Lord Wycliff.” The softly spoken name held a wealth of satisfaction.

“Do I know you?” Lucian remarked, cursing himself for his inexcusable negligence in allowing the Frenchman to slip in undetected.

“No, but I know you.” The cold, black eyes moved over him. “Lord Caliban has recently put a large price on your head. You have proved to be too painful a thorn in his side.”

“Obviously not painful enough.” Lucian flashed a cynical smile. “So your spineless employer is in the business of assassination as well as treason?”

“Lord Caliban is hardly spineless.”

“Yet he sends his lackeys to do his vile work.”

“I intend to kill you and collect the reward, if that is what you mean. And claim the gold as well.” Jack waved one of his pistols at Brynn. “Is this your lovely lady?”

Mentally Lucian voiced a violent oath, his mind searching frantically as he tried to conceal his desperation. He wouldn’t survive this encounter, he suspected, but he could perhaps bargain for Brynn’s safety.

He was clearly at a disadvantage, though. He and Jack had their pistols trained on each other, but Brynn stood closer to the Frenchman, partially in the way. If he moved too quickly, Lucian knew, he risked her being shot. And Jack was growing impatient.

“You will oblige me by putting down your weapon,” the Frenchman ordered.

Keeping his features a cool mask, Lucian shook his head. “And relinquish my only asset? No, monsieur, I prefer the current odds. With your two pistols to my one, you cannot hit all three of us.”

“But I can certainly shoot Lady Wycliff. She will be the first, and then I will take great pleasure in dispatching you.”

“Let her go, and I will consider disarming.”

Lucian stepped forward slowly, making himself a bigger target, but the Frenchman barked out a sharp command. “That is far enough!”

Halting, Lucian balanced on the balls of his feet, preparing to spring and pull Brynn behind him.

“I told you to put down your pistol,” Jack repeated.

“Let my wife go free, and I will.”

Jack’s mouth curled in a sneer. “Do you think me a fool?”

Lucian started to reply when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Grayson stooping, evidently intent on picking up his discarded weapon.

Smoothly, with scarcely a blink, Jack shifted his focus and fired one pistol directly at Grayson, who abruptly clutched his side in pain. The explosion reverberated with a hollow ring all around the cave, mingling with Brynn’s scream of horror as Grayson crumpled to the ground. Lucian’s heart jolted in his chest.

Everything afterward seemed to move with infinite slowness… The Frenchman swerved his aim back to Lucian and got off a second shot just as Brynn lunged at the traitor.

Lucian’s heart ceased beating entirely as she leapt into the path of the bullet, shielding him with her own body while throwing her lamp at the Frenchman with all her might. The lamp shattered in midair a scarce instant before she pitched face-forward on the ground, whether from tripping or being shot, Lucian couldn’t tell.

Terror exploded inside him, along with a blinding rage. Rashly he raised his pistol and fired, but the Frenchman dodged and the shot went wide, careening off the rock wall, splintering and sending dusty fragments flying.

In motion before the blast’s echo had faded, Lucian gave a roar of pure animal fury and dove across the cave. He hurled himself at the Frenchman, aiming for the thighs, his full weight behind his assault.

Jack reeled backward under the bone-jarring impact of being tackled to the cold rock floor, his useless weapons clattering to the ground.

Taking advantage of his opponent’s momentary daze, Lucian pushed himself up to a straddling position and landed a blow with his fist, determined to pummel the Frenchman into a bloody pulp. He released another brutally powerful punch to the jaw, then another, showing no mercy despite the man’s cries of pain.

When Jack raised his hands in an effort to defend himself against the ferocious onslaught, Lucian glanced fleetingly over his shoulder, desperately seeking Brynn, needing to know the worst. He saw her struggling to rise from the ground and felt a fierce surge of relief, knowing she couldn’t be too terribly injured.

His distraction proved costly, however. The Frenchman’s fist struck his temple, pain blinding him for a precious second as the skin above his eye split.

Cursing, Lucian dodged his opponent’s next blows and tried to clear his vision of the blood dripping from his wound. An instant later he was choking as Jack’s clawing fingers caught him by the throat. He let fly another hard jab and rolled to the side, forcing the Frenchman to loosen his grip.

Behind him, Brynn staggered to her knees, trying to clear her dazed senses. She was winded from having tripped, and her arm stung like fire from a gunshot wound. But the bullet had missed Lucian, that was all that mattered. Her relief was so profound, she felt weak-a relief that was short-lived.

She saw Lucian fighting, while Gray lay on his back, his hands groping his side, his face ashen. She bit back a sob. Grayson was alive at least, while Lucian needed help.

Her frantic gaze landed on her brother’s pistol, which lay several yards from her. Jolting herself from her paralysis, she climbed to her feet and stumbled over to the weapon, catching it up to hold the grip in both hands.

She couldn’t shoot, though, without fear of hitting Lucian, who was locked in mortal combat. When she heard a groan at her feet, she spared a brief glance for her brother.

“I never knew… being shot… would hurt so much,” he gasped.

His voice was almost drowned out by the grunts of the combatants, but it was Lucian’s sharp curse that sent cold horror spiraling down to Brynn’s belly. The two men were wrestling side by side now, but the Frenchman had a knife!

The blade flashed as he raised his arm and stabbed downward. With another curse, Lucian jerked backward, then reached up to grasp his opponent’s wrist with both hands.

Brynn watched, her breath frozen in her throat as the Frenchman jerked his arm free. Drawing back, he struck again, flailing with the dagger.

She moved forward, helplessly aiming her pistol, but just then, Lucian rolled free. Panting for breath, the Frenchman leapt up and made a dash for the entrance to the tunnel. Climbing wearily to his feet, Lucian sprinted after him.

Brynn started to follow but threw a desperate glance over her shoulder at her wounded brother.

“Go… I’ll be all right…” Gray rasped. “Try to save him.”

She lunged for the tunnel where the two men had disappeared. Her legs shaking, her pulse pounding, she plunged into the darkness.

She was blind for a moment, but when she heard the distant echo of footsteps, she pressed on sightlessly, using the tunnel wall as a guide.

She was breathless by the time she came to the tunnel’s end, her chest aching with fear. She could detect a faint hint of light, but she had to round a sharp corner and move past a crevice in the rock wall before stumbling out onto the shingle beach.

The dark night was thick with a brewing storm, the ghostly clouds above silvered by a hint of moonlight and swept along by a chill salt breeze. Frantic, Brynn glanced down the shoreline each way, seeing nothing but outcroppings of rock, hearing nothing over the sound of the waves and her own ragged breaths.

Struggling to drag air into her lungs, she looked back over her shoulder, her gaze climbing upward along the cliff face. Her heart jolted when she saw two black shapes overhead; the Frenchman was racing up the cliff walk, Lucian hard on his heels. She could almost hear the harsh sound of their panting.

A moment later, Lucian caught his prey. With a staggering lunge, he tumbled Jack to the rough path.

Both men were on their feet in an instant. Rather than continuing to flee, though. Jack suddenly spun and swung his deadly blade. Lucian stumbled backward and slipped, nearly losing his footing on the narrow track. Brynn barely stifled a scream as he pressed against the cliff wall to regain his balance.

Her heart in her throat, she clutched the pistol in her shaking grasp, trying to aim at the Frenchman. Did she dare shoot? They were so close to each other…

She had no choice, for Jack attacked again, his knife held high as he charged Lucian. Praying, Brynn squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot exploded in her ears. An instant later she heard a cry from one of the men. Then Jack crashed into Lucian, who couldn’t brace for the impact.

For one endless moment, the two combatants stood locked together on the brink of the precipice. Then, with agonizing slowness, they hurtled over the ledge.

Her heart no longer beating, Brynn watched in helpless terror as they tumbled together in a death grip onto the rocky shore below.