DefeatedbyLove (7 page)

“But Harry’s been gone for years,” Michael said, frowning.
“Who’s the father?”

“That is none of your concern,” Simon said coldly before
Daniel could answer. “Suffice it to say the child she carries has put her life
in danger.”

“We suspect,” Daniel added. “If our suspicions are correct,
then only Harry can extricate her from this mess she’s made.”

“Harry’s wife is at your house?” Wolf asked quietly. “I’m
sorry.”

Daniel felt Wolf’s apology like a fist to the gut. Wolf had
been there. He knew. He knew what Harry had meant to him. Daniel felt exposed
and weak and foolish. “I couldn’t very well say no to a pregnant woman in fear
for her life, could I?” he answered casually. “He’d given her my name and
direction. Can you believe it? Told her that if she found herself in trouble
she was to go to me for help.” He shook his head. “He really was a thoughtless
bastard.”

“He’s not,” Michael protested. “You don’t know.” All eyes in
the room turned to him and he faltered. “I mean, he’s changed. Or not. I mean,
I don’t think he was ever like that.”

“What exactly happened in America, Michael?” Wolf asked. He
gripped Michael’s wrist, as if he might try to get away. “What did Ashbury tell
you?”

“Nothing.” Michael’s answer was too quick. His eyes darted
around the room guiltily.

“This is why I didn’t want you asking questions about
Ashbury,” Wolf said tightly, standing and walking several feet away from
Michael, who looked bereft at his desertion. “I don’t like being reminded of
when he ran away from us, and that he’s still keeping secrets.”

“Not secrets, Wolf,” Michael said, clearly annoyed. “Not my
secrets anyway. Nothing that concerns us. I haven’t the right to tell Harry’s.”

“What secrets is Harry keeping?” Daniel demanded. “Are they
the reason his father and cousin are trying to kill his wife?”

“His family?” Michael said, clearly in shock. “But that’s
outrageous. Why?”

“Because the child isn’t his,” Simon said angrily. “How
could it be, after he deserted her ten years ago?” His arms were folded
defensively over his chest, and it was plain as day he taken on the role of her
champion. “And now they’re trying to get rid of her and the child so that the
cousin can inherit. For all we know they’ve killed Harry off already.”

Daniel’s breath caught in his throat for a moment and he
choked. He’d never considered the possibility that Harry was dead. How foolish
of him, to imagine Harry was alive after disappearing as he had. After all,
according to Michael he’d lost an eye in a battle with a Pawnee savage. It was
obvious he took stupid chances. He could be dead, probably was dead. He had to
grip the arm of the sofa to maintain his silence.

“Alec McCain,” Michael said grimly. “His business partner is
Alec McCain. They’ve offices in New Orleans and St. Louis.”

“According to Mrs. Ashbury, Harry’s solicitor here in London
has already tried to contact him through those channels,” Daniel told him. “I
was hoping you’d have more insight as to other places he might go, places they
might not know about.”

“None,” Michael said. “At least not where you can get a hold
of him. They have all sorts of cabins and camping spots out in the wild, where
they trap, although Harry doesn’t do much of that anymore. That’s more McCain.”
He snapped his fingers. “Don’t forget about Nigel Hawthorne. He’s McCain’s
constant companion.”

Daniel had forgotten about him. “The silent boy from
Salamanca?” Hawthorne had been a bad case after that battle. He’d been buried
under the dead for hours. Almost bled to death himself. Hadn’t spoken a word
after that. They’d finally sent him home.

“Yes. Not so silent anymore, but almost. You might try
sending him a note. Although he’s mostly wherever McCain is.” Daniel raised a
brow in silent inquiry. “Yes, like that,” Michael confirmed. “I know he has his
own solicitor in New York, however. His father’s retainer. Hawthorne checks in
there from time to time.”

Daniel pulled out a little notebook and pencil and made a
note. “I shall find him. Anything else?”

“When I left him in New Orleans, he said he’d be following
me,” Michael said uneasily. “He was planning on coming to England as soon as
possible.”

“Why?” Michael didn’t answer, just tightened his lips and
looked belligerent. “All right,” Daniel relented. “Why don’t you just tell me
exactly what happened that night?”

“Aurie and I were on the run,” he said. “The slave hunters
were on her trail and I’d been knifed. I was weak and she was frightened. Harry
was with us. He and I had tickets already for a ship leaving for London. He
took us to the ship, gave Aurie his ticket, vouched for us with the captain and
acted as witness when the captain married us. Before he left he said he’d be
seeing us soon. He was planning to take the next ship out of New Orleans. After
that…I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him.” He looked guilty and uneasy.
“I’ve been worried something might have happened to him as a result of helping
us escape.”

“I’ve been looking into it,” Wolf said.

“What?” Daniel asked. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“We all have our own reasons for what we do,” Wolf said.
“And we are not obliged to share them.”

“Fine,” Daniel bit out. “What have you learned?”

“Nothing.” Daniel’s brief hope died. “That’s why I hesitated
to tell you before today,” Wolf said sympathetically. “For all intents and
purposes, Harry Ashbury has dropped off the face of the earth.”

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Beanne, Harry’s London solicitor, said. His
name made Daniel think of string beans, which was ironic considering he was so
heavy he could barely rise from his chair to greet them. Mr. Beanne was not a
man who sought things out. He clearly waited for them to come to him. Daniel
dragged his mind back to what the solicitor was saying. He couldn’t ignore bad
news no matter how much he wished to do so. “I haven’t heard from Mr. Ashbury
in almost a year. We were to meet several months ago, but he never arrived in
London. I have sent several letters, both on my own behalf and that of Mrs.
Ashbury, but to no avail. Mr. Ashbury has disappeared. I recently received a
note from Mr. McCain informing me that as Mr. Ashbury’s partner and executor he
will soon be arriving in London to investigate his business investments here.”

Daniel couldn’t speak from the pain of his heart shattering.
It took a moment for Simon to pick up the thread of the conversation. “Then Mr.
McCain has proof of Mr. Ashbury’s death?”

“Oh my, no,” Mr. Beanne said, his thin mustache over his full
lip quivering with indignation. “Sorry if I gave that impression. No, Mr.
McCain simply wants to make sure that all is in order. He fears, I believe,
that Mr. Ashbury may have met with foul play on his way to London due to his
business investments. But as I can find no record of Mr. Ashbury boarding a
vessel for England, I fail to follow his logic. All the evidence indicates he
never left America.”

“Thank you,” Simon said with a polite bow of his head. “We
appreciate your time.”

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Beanne said, beaming at them. “I
live to be of service to Mrs. Ashbury. Such a lovely woman, and left all alone
in the world these many years.”

Daniel didn’t like the narrowing of Simon’s eyes. Before his
foolish, besotted friend could demand satisfaction for an imagined slight,
Daniel took his arm and steered him toward the door. “Thank you,” he said
crisply, amazed that he could form words at all.

“Do let me know if you find out that Mr. Ashbury is dead,”
Mr. Beanne called out. “I can’t start any proceedings on the will until such
time as I have a death certificate.”

Daniel hustled Simon out of the office before one or the
other of them took a mighty swing at the callous Mr. Beanne.

That was twice today that Harry’s probable death had been
mentioned, and twice Daniel’s heart had nearly stopped in his chest. He was
annoyed with himself. Clearly he had not moved on as he’d pretended he had. And
that was the most foolish thing of all. Carrying a tendre for a man who’d
deserted him, married a woman, and run across the ocean to escape them all. My
God, Daniel was the stupidest man alive, surely.

He and Simon parted ways at Beanne’s office and he returned
home. He needed to drink his way through today’s revelations and
disappointments. Nothing made a man feel better than wallowing in his own
stupidity while drunk.

Alas, it was not to be. No sooner had he walked through the
door than he was greeted by news of a surprise visitor. And just when he
thought his day couldn’t get worse.

“Good evening, Daniel,” Sir Barnabas James said as he sat in
Daniel’s study drinking his brandy. “You’ve been a busy boy.”

“I don’t care for your tone,” Daniel said. He walked by and
swiped the glass out of Barnabas’ hand and took a much-needed drink.

“I rarely alter my tone,” Barnabas said, and it was true. “I
say bend over the exact same way I say how do you do.”

“That explains your lack of progress in society,” Daniel
muttered.

He reached his desk and leaned against it, facing Barnabas.
He was struck, as he usually was, by his fiercely handsome looks. While Wolf
Tarrant was predatory in the way of a sleek African cat, Barnabas was predatory
like a wolf or a boar. Frightening with his cold eyes and harsh features and
thick shoulders. He looked as if he was always braced for an attack, no matter
that he aped the delicate postures of a social animal. He wore a severely
tailored jacket and trousers, both black, though in the latest fashion. His
olive skin and thick, dark hair, along with his blade of a nose, marked him an
outsider here in England, an interloper with a hunger for the weak and
helpless. Daniel didn’t actually know his ancestry. His mother was reportedly a
singer and his father a seaman, but that could as easily be rumor as fact.

For a man who had been his lover on and off for over ten
years Daniel really knew very little about Barnabas. He was in love with
Daniel, he knew that. He’d never said the words, but his silence and his
actions said as much. Not for the first time Daniel wished he could return his
feelings. Although he felt affection for Barnabas, it wasn’t love. He’d been in
love and this wasn’t it. But he was thrilled, just the same, that a man of
Barnabas’ tastes and experience and stature wanted him, even pursued him on
occasion, like today.

“Have I passed inspection?” Barnabas asked, amused. “I wore
my best jacket.”

“You’re wearing a jacket?” Daniel asked with a little grin.
“I didn’t notice.”

Barnabas grinned back, and Daniel shivered just a little.
Barnabas looked a bit like the Devil, alluring and tempting and oh so bad for
your conscience. “Good,” he told Daniel, stalking him slowly and quietly. “I
was afraid you were going to be angry and put out with me again for showing up
uninvited.”

“When have I been angry and put out about that?” Daniel
asked, putting down the tumbler of brandy beside him. He knew from experience
Barnabas was going to pounce soon, and he was giddy with anticipation. He
hadn’t had a good fuck for weeks, and his aggravation over today’s events
needed some sort of outlet.

“Every time I do it,” Barnabas said, amusement dripping from
every word. He veered off course to walk the perimeter of the room and Daniel
frowned. “Dare I hope this means whatever has had you running around London
today will not require my assistance?”

Damn, damn, damn,
thought Daniel., He knew that
Barnabas, as the head of some mysterious agency at the Home Office, had the
resources to help. But he’d been adamantly refusing to go to him. First of all
he’d already gotten Barnabas tangled up in Very and Wolf and Michael’s problems
last year, and as a result he’d been lured back into an ill-advised affair with
Barnabas that he’d ended several years ago. And second, he did not want to
involve Barnabas in anything concerning Harry. The two had met during the war,
and Barnabas had saved Harry’s life before arranging for his return to England.
But there was no love lost between the two and Daniel knew Barnabas would like
nothing better than to make sure Harry stayed gone. Daniel might have agreed
with those sentiments not long ago, but now he needed Harry back here to take
care of his wife.

“Not at all,” Daniel lied. “Why would you think so?”

Before Barnabas could answer there was a knock at his study
door. “Come in,” he called out quickly, glad for the reprieve.

His relief did not last long. Christine Ashbury walked in
and then stopped short, a look of surprise on her face when she saw Barnabas.
She looked particularly pleasant this evening in a white gown with embroidered
primroses along the neck and hem. Very demure and vestal virgin. The seamstress
Daniel had hired had done a remarkable job in a very short time. Perhaps she’d
had this one done up already and had merely needed to alter it. The gown did
amazing things for her hair and eyes, that were wasted on him. She must have
thought he’d brought Simon home, which is exactly why he’d refused to do so and
sent the would-be Romeo to his lonely lodgings.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Nonsense,” Barnabas said with a polite smile. “I must be
the intruder.” He gave Daniel a blank look, his head tilted to the side. If he
already knew who Mrs. Ashbury was, he wasn’t going to give himself away.

“Mrs. Christine Ashbury, may I introduce Sir Barnabas
James,” Daniel said. At the introduction it wasn’t Barnabas’ expression that
caught Daniel’s attention, it was Mrs. Ashbury’s. Recognition flashed across
her features and she looked dismayed for a moment. Then she visibly recovered
and bowed her head politely, hiding her reaction.

“How do you do,” she murmured.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ashbury,” Barnabas
said without a single moment of surprise or shock ruining his perfectly
composed demeanor. “I knew your husband in Portugal.”

“Yes,” she said in a voice so quiet it was hard to hear her.
“I know.” She turned to Daniel. “Will you be long, Mr. Steinberg? Mr. Matheson
sent me to inquire.”

“Did he?” Daniel asked casually. He was going to have to
speak to Matheson. “I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll be, actually. Sir
Barnabas needed to speak with me about an important matter. Don’t hold dinner
on my account.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. Take your time. Sir Barnabas.” She
excused herself politely and left the room, closely the door firmly behind her.

Daniel remained silent. Let Barnabas make the first move.

“Well,” Barnabas finally said after an endless minute of
staring at one another. “This is cozy. She’s quite attractive too. It shouldn’t
be a hardship for you. I’d certainly like to sample a bite.”

“Has all of London gone mad?” Daniel asked with a shake of
his head. “While I concede that she is indeed pretty, I have no interest in
sampling her at all. Which is, I think, why she came to me for help.”

“Help with what? Where’s Ashbury?” Barnabas’ questions were
merely curious. As usual he was revealing nothing about what he was feeling.

“Nothing that concerns you. And I’d like to point out that
your continued interest in women is the reason there is no future for us.” That
and several hundred other reasons, of course. “I’m well aware you’re no saint
when you leave me. I’ve heard of your legendary affairs with both women and
men.”

“It passes the time between visits here,” Barnabas said
unrepentantly. He started meandering around the room again. “I’ve told you I’ll
give up women, and other men, for an exclusive arrangement with you.”

“Let’s not start that again,” Daniel dismissed his comment.
They’d been round and round about it many times. “Neither of us is made for an
exclusive affair. I like men too much, and you’ll hump anyone, like or not.” He
eyed Barnabas askance for a second. “Actually I think you like it better when
there’s enmity between you and your bed partners more than affection.”

“It makes for a clean break.”

“That doesn’t explain us.” Daniel pinned him with a knowing
glance.

“True,” Barnabas conceded, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead
he turned his steps toward Daniel, and Daniel’s heartbeat began to race. This
was the Barnabas he preferred, feral and on the prowl and randy as a goat. This
Barnabas he knew what to do with.

“Perhaps we need a reminder of why we keep doing this,”
Barnabas mused in a low, hungry voice.

“Do we?” Daniel teased. “I don’t know. I seem to recall why
we shouldn’t do it much more clearly.”

“My work is obviously cut out for me then,” Barnabas said
very seriously. “I wonder what it would take to convince you that you can’t do
without it?”

Daniel scoffed and crossed his arms. “Can’t do without it?
Don’t be vain. I can get it wherever I please. I don’t need some arrogant ass
who randomly appears when it suits his fancy.”

“Hmm,” Barnabas said, stopping right in front of him. He put
his hands on the desk at Daniel’s hips and leaned over to take a deep whiff of
Daniel’s neck. “Like that silly little boy you brought home the other night?
Did you get it from him?” he whispered in Daniel’s ear.

Daniel shivered in equal parts annoyance and fear. Barnabas
always did that to him. He didn’t care for it, but at the same time the fear
skated over his nerves and made his skin prickle with awareness, his cock jerk
in his trousers. “No,” he said. It sounded defensive and combative. “I gave it
to him.”

That stopped Barnabas for a fraction of a second. Daniel saw
the hesitation. He knew Daniel rarely did that, and certainly Barnabas had
never wanted or received it. “Did you?” he purred in Daniel’s ear. “Since he
was shown the door by your servants the next morning I can only assume it was
not as satisfactory as you’d hoped.”

“You bastard,” Daniel whispered, but he was amused more than
anything. “Stop spying on me. And leave my cook alone.”

Barnabas chuckled in his ear and Daniel felt a thrill race
right down his spine and lodge itself right where he wanted Barnabas to be. The
dour Sir Barnabas rarely laughed, and Daniel treasured those times he was able
to make the other man let go long enough to do so. “Your cook is safe. She only
confirms what I already know.” He pulled back just enough to look into Daniel’s
eyes. Their faces were mere inches apart. “I train most of my new agents by
making them spy on you.”

Daniel glared at him. “That is not amusing.”

Barnabas lightly ran his hand over Daniel’s erection. “You
are a hard and interesting man to follow,” Barnabas said. He reached out and
unfolded Daniel’s arms, resting his hands on the desk at his side, where the
wood was still warm from Barnabas’ hands. “Some are shocked, some are
intrigued, some are disgusted—” He paused and looked back up at Daniel. “Those
I either fire or send to our outposts in Orkney and Shetland.”

“You are a cruel taskmaster,” Daniel whispered, gripping the
desk.

“Am I?” Barnabas unbuttoned Daniel’s jacket and then his
waistcoat. He slid his hands down Daniel’s sides, as if enjoying the feel of
him. His hands were hot and hard. No shy caresses from Barnabas. Always firm
and sometimes harsh, but with a taint of awkward tenderness that made Daniel
give in. He reached for the buttons on Daniel’s trousers. “Then I shall relent
tonight and play the servant, not the master.”