Don't Bargain with the Devil (32 page)

 

That sparked his temper. “I am not poor, Lucy,” he clipped out. “I am not rich, but I am certainly capable of supporting a wife.”

 

“For as long as your act is popular and successful, yes.” She tipped up her chin. “But a handsome unmarried performer will always attract the female portion of the population, while a married one—”

 

“Will attract the portion of the population who wants to be surprised by his act,” he bit out, unaccountably annoyed by her assumption that he would only be successful as long as he was free to charm the ladies.

 

Never mind that he had often complained to Gaspar that the women only came to see him in hopes of a flirtation. “I am good at what I do, damn it. My career will not end simply because I marry.”

 

“Even assuming that you’re right,” she went on, blithely battering his pride with every word, “I’d have to travel with you, living in hotels, unable to settle anywhere, unless I wish to be without you for months on end.”

 

It was the same thing he had told himself when deciding that he could not have her. But that made it no less galling to hear
her
say it. “You grew up traveling with the regiments, did you not?” he snapped. “I should think it would be the sort of life you know well. And we would at least be traveling more comfortably.”

 

“Travel is travel,” she said lightly. “If you’ll recall, my fa-…the colonel sent me away to school at twelve. Clearly, even he didn’t think it a good situation for a woman.”

 

Diego had always claimed that the life of a traveling conjurer was no life for a wife and children. So why could he not accept that same claim from her?

 

Because he still desired her.

 

It made no sense. Last night should have quenched his obsessive need to touch her, kiss her, make love to her. Her coldly practical assessment of his acceptability as a husband should certainly have squelched any further longing to possess her.

 

It had not.

 

Sliding his hand about her waist, he drew her close. Undaunted by her sudden look of panic or the fact that she turned her head aside when he bent toward her mouth, he brushed kisses to her brow, her cheek, her ear. “But we would have
this.
” He nuzzled the pale, fine skin of her neck. “We would have our nights.”

 

“That isn’t enough,” she choked out. “Not for me.”

 

She slipped from his arms and hurried to the door, but he caught up with her, hauling her back against his chest. “
Dios mio, querida,
do not do this. We could make it work.”

 

“Why should we?” she asked, her voice oddly breathless. “You said you wanted me to meet my grandfather, to see what sort of life he could offer me, and now I’m willing to do that. Unless you can give me a good reason for doing otherwise, it seems sensible to do as I originally planned.”

 

What reason could he give? It
was
sensible. Not marrying her would allow him to bring his plans to fruition. Indeed, marriage would bring only disadvantages to them both. And if the passion he felt was not enough for her…

 

As he hesitated, she stiffened. “Let me go, Diego. It is better this way.”

 

Reluctantly, he released her. He had bungled this, but he was not sure how. Perhaps if he had sworn his undying love—

 

He scowled. He would be damned if he spouted such nonsense just to have her in his bed. He still could not
promise her any kind of life. In a few years perhaps, once Arboleda was restored and he had money and position, but not at present. By then, though, she would quite likely be some other man’s wife.

 

The thought opened a fathomless desolation in his chest that he forced himself to ignore. She was giving him what he wanted. He had to be wise and grab it with both hands.

 

She started to open the door, then paused, still not looking at him. “I think it best that we be careful how we act around each other from now on. We must show a front of perfect propriety. If Rafael guessed that we shared a bed, the others might, too, and that would ruin both our aims.”

 

A cold chill swept him. “Rafael guessed because I told him I meant to marry you,
carińo.
”

 

Her gaze shot to him in alarm. “You mustn’t call me that. Or any other endearments. We must be Miss Seton and Don Diego from now on. Understood?”

 

Dios Santo,
the woman knew how to prick a man’s pride. Yet she was right. If they did not mean to marry, they must behave as strangers or lose everything. He managed a terse nod.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured.

 

But as she reached for the door handle again, he cried, “Wait!”

 

She eyed him warily. “What is it?”

 

He did not know. He just could not stand the thought of never having her in his arms again. “You said you enjoyed what we did last night. There is no reason we cannot…” Though her face grew stony, he bumbled on. “That is, I am sure Rafael would be willing to keep Nettie busy at night if we should wish to—”

 

“Dally?” she finished, her face impassive.

 

“Pleasure each other,” he countered. “We will not reach Spain for at least another two weeks, possibly three. Why not make the best of it?”

 

“Because I am not a whore,” she snapped. “There will be no private enjoyments.”

 

She left, letting the door bang shut behind her.

 

He stood there a long moment, staring blindly at the door. Too late, he saw how insulting his suggestion must have sounded. He had never liked being wanted only for his fame. She would hate being wanted only for her body.

 

Except that it was
not
only her body he wanted her for, damn it! He enjoyed her company. He liked how she threw herself with great fervor into whatever she did. He admired her caring treatment of her young pupils and her loyalty to those she loved—her “Papa” and Mrs. Harris and a whole school full of women. The idea of becoming a formal stranger with her did not sit well.

 

But the alternative was to beg, to turn into some blithering idiot whose desires controlled him. He had already done that far too much.

 

The door swung open, and Rafael stepped into the room, then halted, clearly taken by surprise. “I thought you were with Miss Seton.”

 

“I was. She just left. It seems she does not wish to marry me.”

 

“I see.” His friend did not look surprised. “But then you didn’t really wish to marry her, did you?”

 

Diego glared at him. “Is that what she told you?”

 

“That is what
you
told me, with every action and word. You came into the cabin angry this morning, stomping about, announcing in your rigid and bloodless manner
that you had to marry Miss Seton. I didn’t have to tell your little captive anything. If you behaved like that with her when you proposed marriage, she would have noticed your obvious lack of enthusiasm.”

 

He winced. Was that how she had seen his offer? As a duty? He supposed he had presented it that way. But what had she expected, that he would profess himself thrilled by the prospect of losing Arboleda? Merely for the pleasures she might offer?

 

That isn’t enough,
she’d said.

 

She was right. And she had not sounded thrilled by the prospect of being dragged from pillar to post as his wife, either. He drew himself up stiffly.

 

Rafael shrugged. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You made a narrow escape.” He cast Diego a considering glance. “It’s not every day that a man receives the gift of a woman’s innocence without having to suffer any obligation. How lucky is that?”

 

“True,” Diego said tightly.

 

So why did he not feel particularly lucky?

 

 

Colonel Hugh Seton blazed into the school like a one-man regiment. Charlotte could hear him coming even before he reached her office. She hurried out to meet him and his wife, Maggie, who happened to be one of Charlotte’s good friends.

 

“Where is this scoundrel Gaspar who had a hand in this disaster?” the colonel demanded. “I must speak to him at once.”

 

“I hardly think he would have remained in England if he had been part of it.” Charlotte assured the colonel. “But I will have him fetched so you can question him yourself.” Passing the order to a footman, she led the Setons into her
office. “While we wait, you should look at this letter Lucy left behind.”

 

When she handed the colonel the missive, he gave it only a cursory glance. “My girl didn’t write this,” he said stoutly.

 

“Are you sure? I compared it to her other work—”

 

“Do you think I don’t know my daughter’s hand?” he roared. “She didn’t write it, I tell you!”

 

“Hugh, dear, you must calm yourself,” Maggie murmured. “Nothing can be accomplished if you have an apoplexy.”

 

“Aye, aye, ye’re right about that.” He shot Charlotte a worried glance. “Do you happen to know what part of Spain this Montalvo fellow is from?”

 

“I believe Gaspar said he was from the northeast.”

 

“Thank God,” the colonel said, looking a little relieved.

 

“Why?”

 

“It seems quite the coincidence that Montalvo is Spanish, when I was informed by the War Office six months ago that Lucy’s Spanish grandfather has been trying to find her. But Lucy’s mother was from a town near Gibraltar, on the opposite end of Spain from where Montalvo is from.”

 

A sudden shiver snaked down Charlotte’s spine. “Oh, dear.”

 

“What?” he asked, his relief vanishing.

 

“The ship that we think they left on was embarked for San Roque. That is not far from Gibraltar, is it?”

 

The color drained from the colonel’s face. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “Damn that bastard. All these years, her grandfather has not given her a thought. And now…”

 

As he trailed off, Maggie stared at him. “You told me Lucy had no living relations. And I know she always believed it to be true.”

 

He stared blindly ahead. “I had a reason for keeping it from both of you. Not that it matters now.” He lifted his gaze to Maggie. “If that devil Don Carlos has somehow lured her to Spain, it cannot be for anything good. I have to go there. I have to save her.”

 

“From what?” snapped a voice from the doorway. They all turned to see Gaspar standing in the doorway, his face dark with anger. “From finally knowing her family? You stole her from her parents, yet you condemn her true relations?”

 

Jumping to his feet, the colonel drew himself up to his full height, every bit the British officer. “I assume that you’re Montalvo’s servant, who supposedly had no hand in this.”

 

“I didn’t. The…elopement was all Diego’s idea.” Gaspar crossed his arms over his chest. “But much as I wish he’d chosen a less dramatic method of doing right by Miss Seton, I know he believes he’s acting on her behalf. Certainly it’s time she knew the truth about her parentage.”

 

The colonel marched up to him, his eyes a livid blue. “And what the bloody devil do you think
that
is, ye damned insolent bastard?”

 

Unbowed, Gaspar jerked his head toward Charlotte and Maggie. “Are you sure you want them to hear?”

 

“I’ve done nothing wrong to hide from them,” the colonel growled. “Except protect my daughter from those who might prey on her.”

 

“Like her own grandfather, you mean?” Gaspar said.

 

“Aye. He had his chance to keep Catalina and my daughter. He gave that up when he let them leave Gibraltar with Tom Crawford. Once the
marqués
told Catalina she was dead to him for marrying an English soldier, he lost his chance to be anything to her. Or to his granddaughter.”

 

Gaspar looked taken aback. “What the devil are you talking about? The woman you’re calling Catalina was Lucy’s nurse. She stole Lucy from the real Catalina and her Spanish husband, to run off with Crawford. You had to have known that.”

 

“The real Catalina and her Spanish husband?” The colonel gave a harsh laugh. “Is that what that bloody arse Don Carlos told you?” A scowl knit his brow. “Oh, God, is that what your master told Lucy to get her to leave with him?”

 

A sobering apprehension swept over Gaspar’s face. “
Dios mio,”
he said hoarsely. “Are you saying…do you mean to tell me—”

 

“The man is a liar and a scoundrel, and so is your master if he’s aiding him.” Colonel Seton headed for the door. “I’ve no time for this. I’m going after my daughter. They can’t have gained too many days on us, since Lord Stoneville procured us passage here from Edinburgh on one of his ships.”

 

“Still, it might take a while to get a berth to Spain, Colonel,” Charlotte put in. After her brief marriage to a regimental officer, she was only too aware how difficult travel between countries could be. “And you will need documents to enter the country.”

 

“Stoneville is seeing to that passage as well, since I’d already anticipated I might need to go to Spain. And his friend, the duke, is taking care of the documents.”

 

“Hugh Seton, you scoundrel!” Maggie cried in a hurt voice. “You’d already anticipated a trip to Spain and said nothing of it to me? Indeed, it appears you’ve said very little to me about your life before you adopted Lucy.”

 

The colonel lost some of his fire and vigor. “Maggie, my love, I’m sorry you had to hear of this in such a fashion. There are other things, too, I should have told you—”

 

“Then why didn’t you?”

 

A flush spread over his cheeks. “Some of it I am not…proud of. And since I know I’m not entirely the sort of man you wanted to marry—”

 

“You big lummox!” Maggie’s voice was choked as she stalked up to him. “Haven’t you figured out by now that I love you just as you are? Nothing you could ever say would make me stop loving you. And if you think I’ll let you trot off to Spain after Lucy without me, you have another think coming.”

 

“It will be a rough voyage, love.” He grabbed her hands. “And I don’t know what we’ll find.”

 

“I don’t care! She’s my daughter, too. I’m going with you, and that’s that.”

 

After a brief hesitation, he nodded, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm.