Beyond Compare (28 page)

“Really?” Kyria tilted up her head.

He felt as if he could drown in those huge green eyes. There were tiny golden flecks, he saw, encircling her pupils.

Kyria’s mouth was dry, and it took an effort of will to move away and pour a bit of brandy onto the cloth. She pressed it softly against his wound, wincing as he sucked in his breath sharply.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and then, surprising herself almost as much as him, Kyria bent and brushed her lips over his arm just below the scratch. His flesh was warm and tasted faintly of salt, and his skin quivered beneath her lips.

Kyria raised her head and looked up into his face again. Rafe was unmoving, his skin taut over his bones, but his chest rose and fell rapidly, and color blazed high on his cheekbones. Kyria gazed at him for a long moment, then slowly, deliberately, went up on tiptoe and laid her lips gently against the deepening bruise on his shoulder.

Rafe sucked in his breath, and his hands went automatically to her waist. His fingers curled, catching the waistband of her trousers, then tightened convulsively.

“Kyria…” His breath grazed her cheek and sent a shiver through her. “Kyria…”

He leaned forward, burying his face in her mass of curling hair, and his hands slid down, curving over her hips, separated from his touch by only the material of
the trousers. His hands moved over her rounded bottom, desire rocketing through him with every caress.

Kyria’s hands went up to his chest, sliding over him experimentally, searching out the lines and curves of him, the hard ridge of bone and the firm padding of muscle, the tightening nubs of his nipples, and the light sprinkling of curling, coarse hair, narrowing into a line downward to his navel.

Rafe shuddered as she touched him, and a moan escaped his lips. He knew that he should not let this go any further, but he could not make himself move, could not speak.

She ran her fingers down his back, exploring the central valley of his spine and the rise of muscle on either side. She touched the bony outcropping of his collarbone and the tender flesh of his throat above it, her hand curving around his neck to slide up into his hair.

Daring more, Kyria pressed her lips to the warm skin of his chest and was rewarded by the quick hiss of his breath, the involuntary trembling of his flesh. He plunged his hands into her hair as her lips roamed his chest and stomach. She let her tongue slip out to taste his skin as he had done to her yesterday, and she delighted in the feel of his manhood hardening against her in response. Remembering how his hands had caressed her skin and his mouth and tongue had teased her nipples to an engorged sensitivity, she did the same to him.

The way he felt, the way he tasted, excited Kyria, and she could not hold back little sounds of pleasure as she explored his body. Rafe was almost as aroused by the noises she made as he was by the touch of her mouth and hands. Desire coiled within him, tightening with every brush of her fingertips, every flick of her
tongue. When her mouth closed around the flat button of one of his nipples, he groaned, stunned by the pleasure that radiated through him.

He had to kiss her, had to taste her. His hands on either side of her head, he turned her face up, and his mouth swooped down to claim hers. Passion exploded within them, shaking them both with its power. Rafe’s arms lifted Kyria up into him, grinding her against his heated, eager body. Kyria responded with a wantonness she had never realized existed in her before, wrapping her long legs around his waist.

A shudder of pure animal desire ran through him at her movement, and he locked his arms around her, clamping her to him as his mouth devoured hers. The very center of her heat was pressed against him, tantalizing him through the layers of clothing between them. He turned, making his way blindly across his room to the bed, still kissing her greedily.

They fell onto the bed, hands and mouths searching. Heat seemed to sizzle over their skin as they kissed and caressed, the desire within them building to an almost unbearable heat.

At last he pulled away from her and stood looking down at her. She gazed back at him, her mouth full and reddened from his kisses, her hair spread around her like a fan of fire.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured huskily, and his fingers went to the buttons of her waistcoat. “I want to see all of you.”

Kyria smiled at him, making no move to stop his fingers from their work. She wanted him to look at her, wanted to watch his face as his eyes roamed her body.

He unbuttoned the waistcoat, then the buttons beneath it that fastened her shirt. Hooking his thumbs
beneath the side of her shirt, he pushed both garments aside, then down off her arms. His face tightened as he took in the bindings she had wrapped around her breasts to hide them, and he untied the tapes, lifting her with an arm under her waist and pulling the wrappings away.

Tossing them aside, he stroked his fingers gently over the red streaks the bindings had left on her skin. “Tis a crime to hurt such beauty,” he whispered and bent to press his lips gently against the marks. “Promise me you will not do so again.”

He reached down to pull off her boots and then her socks, his hands gliding over her legs beneath the trousers. His hands moved to the waistband of her trousers, unbuttoning them and sliding them smoothly over her hips and off her legs, quickly following them with the thin cotton pantalets she wore beneath.

Kyria lay naked before him, and his eyes feasted on her loveliness, his pulse hammering in his head. Kyria, a little amazed at her own lack of shame, lifted her arms above her head and stretched sinuously. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he watched her, and quickly he toed off his shoes, his hands going to the waistband of his own trousers.

He divested himself of his garments, and Kyria raised her arms to him, her eyes glowing, her mouth softly beckoning. With a small, final sigh of surrender, he stretched out beside Kyria and began to make love to her.

Rafe’s mouth roamed her breasts and stomach, teasing and exploring. He played havoc with her senses, stoking the passion within her until Kyria felt as if she might scream with pleasure. She dug her fingers into his back, panting with desire.

He parted her legs, his fingers slipping down into the moist, heated center of her. Kyria ached for him, an emptiness inside her that she knew only he could fill. She opened her legs farther, and her hands roamed restlessly up and down his back, urging him on.

At last he moved between her legs and thrust slowly, deeply inside her. Kyria stifled a groan against his shoulder, the sharp twinge of pain quickly replaced by a deep satisfaction as he filled her. He began to move within her, pulling slowly back, then sinking deep again, and Kyria wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her senses whirling, she moved with him, every new sensation driving her desire higher.

She let out a sob, feeling as if she might explode. Suddenly, the tension within her broke, sending strong waves of pleasure radiating through her. Kyria shook under the force of it, a cry escaping her lips, and at her movement, Rafe shuddered, too, a deep groan issuing from his throat.

They clung together, riding out the blinding storm of passion. They collapsed, spent and panting, and Rafe rolled onto his back, his arm around her, pulling her close. Kyria rested her head against his chest, letting herself drift, replete and content in a way she had never imagined existed.

So this, she thought, was love. Smiling to herself, Kyria drifted into sleep.

T
he next morning, Kyria awoke alone late and did not go down to breakfast, but had only toast and tea brought up to her on a tray. Humming to herself, she bathed and dressed, then went downstairs. She heard the sound of masculine voices talking, and she frowned, puzzled, then followed the sound of them to the library. There she found Rafe and Reed in conversation.

“Reed!” she cried, rushing to him with a smile. “When did you get in?”

“Just this morning. I took the early train back from Liverpool.” He stood up to hug her. Then he stepped back, saying, “Rafe here has been telling what you two have been doing.”

“What?” Startled, Kyria’s eyes flew to Rafe’s face.

“I was telling your brother why we brought the reliquary to London.”

“Oh! Oh, of course.” Of course he had not told Reed anything about what had happened between them personally! A blush rose on Kyria’s cheeks. She must learn to control her reactions better, she thought fiercely, or Reed would begin to suspect something.

Rafe smiled at her, his eyes lingering on her face.
Reed looked from his sister to the American, and his eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“Have you shown Reed the standard?” Kyria asked Rafe, eager to distract her brother.

“Not yet. You are much better than I at wielding those wires of Con’s.”

Kyria ran off to fetch the reliquary and returned a few moments later. She showed Reed Con’s method of unlocking the box, then opened it to let him see the fragile cloth. Reed was as awestruck as everyone else had been.

“That’s amazing,” he said, sitting back as Kyria closed the box. “It seems impossible.”

“I know,” Kyria agreed. “Even more astonishing, apparently the rest of the legend is true, too. It seems there really is a group of men who have devoted their lives to keeping the box safe—passing it down through generations. The Keepers of the Holy Standard, they call themselves.”

“You have met them?”

Kyria nodded. “They rescued us last night.”

“Rescued
you?” Reed’s eyebrows vaulted upward. “What do you mean, rescued?”

“We were surrounded and outnumbered,” Kyria explained. “I thought we were doomed, but then the Keepers came running in out of nowhere and started fighting off our attackers.”

“Who attacked you? Why?”

“We’re not sure why,” Kyria told him carefully so as not to alarm him. “I think we weren’t supposed to be where we were.”

“Or it might have been someone who wants the box, I suppose,” Rafe put in.

“This Habib fellow?” Reed asked.

“Possibly. But he doesn’t fit the description of the man who paid Sid and Dixon to break into Broughton Park and try to steal it,” Kyria reasoned aloud. “We think Mr. Habib might have a partner. We tried to catch him at the Blue Bull, but he got away.”

“What? Who tried to catch him?” Reed asked.

“Why, Rafe and I.”

“At a tavern?” Reed stared. “
You
were in a tavern?”

Kyria nodded cheerfully. “Yes, on the docks. It was quite an interesting experience. I dressed up as an old hag.”

Reed was rendered momentarily speechless.

“But we still don’t know who he was, because he got away that night,” Kyria went on. “We don’t know if he and Habib are somehow acting together or if he is an entirely separate party. I mean, he could be the Frenchman or the Russian prince.”

“Who the devil are the Frenchman and the Russian prince?”

“They have both approached me since we’ve been in London, offering to purchase the reliquary.”

“Good God, how many people are after this thing?” Reed exclaimed.

“We know of three, well, four, if you count the Keepers,” Kyria told him. “But we don’t know if the man at the tavern is one of these people that we know about, or if he is someone else altogether. That’s why we set Tom on Habib to follow him and see if he could catch him meeting with someone. So Tom followed him, and that is why we went to the opium den last night, to see if—”

“Opium den!” Reed exploded, rising to his feet. “You went to an opium den?”

“Yes. That is where we were attacked, and the Keepers came to rescue us.”

“Good God, McIntyre!” Reed exclaimed again, turning toward him indignantly. “You call this keeping my sister safe?”

“No one has to keep me safe!” Kyria protested. “I can look after myself.” She swung on Rafe, who had opened his mouth to respond to Reed, and shook her finger at him. “Don’t you dare apologize for not stopping me from going. We all know that I—”

“Do exactly as you please,” Reed finished her sentence with a groan. “I know. I know. I shouldn’t get angry with McIntyre, poor chap. I should pity him for having to try to reason with you.”

As Kyria opened her mouth again, her eyes flashing, Reed raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “No, no, don’t start breathing fire. I abjectly apologize. I know you are a grown woman and fully capable of taking care of yourself. However, I don’t think I can take any more of your adventures just now. I’m going to visit the twins.”

Rafe grinned. “I don’t think those two will be much of a relief for your nerves.”

“You’re probably right,” Reed acknowledged. “But at least it will be an entirely different set of worries.”

After luncheon, Kyria was in the sitting room conferring with the housekeeper when she became aware of a high, thin wail. Frowning, she looked at the housekeeper, then toward the open door. Suddenly she realized that the sound was from one of the twins, screaming for help. She jumped up and ran down the hall toward the back of the house, nearly running into Reed
coming out of his office. Behind them came the pounding of more running feet.

As Kyria and Reed reached the back hallway, Con rushed out of the conservatory door. He saw them and sagged against the wall, struggling to catch his breath, his small chest heaving.

He was a terrible sight—his pants torn and muddied, leaves in his hair and caught on his jacket, his hair damp with sweat and sticking out every which way, his face scratched and bleeding, his cheeks flushed from exertion. A fierce red mark splotched his forehead just above his eyebrow.

“Con!” Kyria and Reed rushed to him, just as Rafe ran up to join them.

“Al…Alex!” Con panted, pulling back as Kyria reached out to take him in her arms. “You gotta…”

“Alex?” Kyria asked. “Something happened to Alex?”

“Where is he?” Reed put in.

In answer, Con turned and started off at a run back through the conservatory. Kyria, Reed and Rafe pelted after him. Con ran out onto the terrace and down the steps into the garden, racing along the paths into the informal parklike area beyond.

Although the grounds of Broughton House were small compared to those at their country home, they were large for a house in London, containing almost a city block of trees and grass inside the walls of the estate. Con led them toward the back of the grounds. There, close to the high east wall, beneath a large tree, lay the sprawled still body of Denby, the footman Kyria had set to look after the boys. Alex was nowhere in sight.

The fear that had been growing in Kyria with every
step now blazed into full-blown terror. “Alex!” she shouted. “Alex!”

“He’s gone!” Con panted, dropping to his knees beside Denby. “They…they got him!” He pointed vaguely toward the stone wall.

As Kyria knelt beside Denby, Rafe and Reed ran to the wall. Jumping, they grabbed the top and pulled themselves up to look over, then returned to where Kyria knelt beside the footman, her handkerchief pressed to his temple.

“He’s been hit on the head,” she told them. “He’s bleeding and unconscious, but I don’t see any other wounds. I don’t think he was shot or stabbed.”

“They hit him,” Con panted out. Though his face was pale, the bright red mark standing out sharply, he was regaining his breath, and he managed to add, “With a big stick.”

“Who are they?” Reed asked.

Con shook his head. “I don’t know! There were three of them. They came over the wall. Alex and I were over there.” He turned to point at a spot a short distance away. “We…we saw them. We didn’t know what they were doing. They just climbed over. Denby was watching us, and he didn’t see them at first. Then he turned, and one of them hit him hard, like this.” Con demonstrated. “They came after us. So Alex and I ran.” Con stopped, tears starting in his eyes.

“Good lad,” Reed said encouragingly. “You did exactly right.”

“But they caught Alex?” Rafe asked.

Con nodded. “Me, too, but when they were climbing back over the wall, they didn’t have hold of me good enough—Alex and I were kicking and hitting and trying to get away, you see—and anyway, at the top of
the wall, I pulled away real hard, and he dropped me. So I came to get you.”

At this point, Denby groaned and opened his eyes. His eyes wavered around, and he squeezed them shut again, moaning, “Ow, me head.”

“Stay still,” Kyria told him. “You’ll be all right.”

She looked up at Rafe, who was standing with one hand comfortingly on Con’s shoulder. Her gaze was filled with fear and pleading.

“Don’t worry,” Rafe said quietly. “We’ll get him back.”

“That’s right,” Reed agreed. He glanced over to where several of the servants, who had trailed out of the house after them, now stood silently, watching. “Phipps, get Denby inside and make him comfortable.” He turned back to Kyria and Con. “Con, you stay with your sister. I’m going out front and see what I can find out.”

He looked at Rafe, who gave him a nod and came around to join him. Con looked anxiously after the two of them. “I can help them.”

“No!” Kyria exclaimed, then added more softly. “Please don’t, Con. I need your help with Denby.”

The servants carried the injured footman into the house, Con and Kyria following. They laid him down on the couch in the housekeeper’s sitting room, and Kyria cleaned and bandaged his head. After she cleaned away the blood, she found that the wound was not as bad as it had looked, the skin merely broken over a rapidly rising knot.

“Do you remember what happened, Denby?” she asked.

“I…I’m not sure. The boys were playing, and then…I think, was there a noise? I started to turn
around and…” He sighed. “I don’t remember anything else.”

“He didn’t see them, or at least not much,” Con said. “He turned around just as they were on him.”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Denby said. “What happened? Where’s Master Alex?”

“We’re not sure. He seems…he seems to have been taken.” Kyria struggled to clamp down on the terror rising within her.

Who had taken him? Where had they gone? What was going to happen to him?

Con slipped his hand into hers and squeezed, and Kyria looked down at him, smiling and blinking back the tears that flooded her eyes. “We’ll get him back,” she said firmly, returning the squeeze.

She and Con left the footman in the care of the housekeeper and started toward the front of the house. They met Rafe and Reed coming back in the front door.

“Did you find anything?” she asked eagerly. “Did anybody see where they took him?”

“The only person who saw anything was a street sweeper at the intersection,” Reed told her. “He said there was a carriage standing outside the wall all day. He had noticed it because it didn’t move. Then he saw a fellow climb over the fence out of our grounds and go to the carriage, then two men got out of the carriage, and they all climbed back over the wall. Naturally, he thought this odd, so he continued to watch, and the next thing he saw was the men coming back over the wall, carrying two boys, but one of the boys fell back inside. They carried the other one, kicking and screaming, into the carriage and drove off. At least he could tell us the direction the carriage went.”

Kyria felt deathly cold. “Oh, poor Alex! Who could have done this? Why?”

“I don’t know who,” Rafe said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that the why is to get hold of that reliquary.”

“I agree.” Reed nodded. “Given everything that’s been going on, I think it has to be related. I directed the footmen to talk to everyone they can find in the direction the carriage went. I’ve sent for Tom Quick to help in that hunt. Maybe we can find someone who saw where the carriage turned or…” Reed stopped and sighed, then turned to Con. “Let’s go sit down, and I want you to tell me again everything that happened. Try to remember every single thing.”

Con nodded. When the four of them were seated in Reed’s office, Con once again told of the men climbing over the wall and knocking out the footman, then chasing and capturing the twins and hauling them over the wall.

“Did you get a look at any of their faces?” Kyria asked. “Could you recognize any of them again?”

Con shook his head. “They wore masks over their faces. You know, like you wear to a costume ball.”

“Half masks?” Kyria asked.

He nodded. “All black. I saw the bottom part of their faces, but…”

“No, I realize. You wouldn’t be able to recognize them,” Reed said. “Was there no scar, no oddity about a mouth or nose?”

Con thought for a moment, then reluctantly shook his head. “Nothing I remember, and they were all dressed in black.”