Lady of Seduction (11 page)

“It was hardly that. I had only to listen while they talked. I’m not much of a farmer.” Grant took her arm to help her down
from the stool. “We should go now.”

Before they could take another step, a young man appeared in the doorway. He had obviously been running because his face was
red and he was panting for breath. He waved his hands over his head and the room fell silent.

“There’s a boat approaching!” he shouted. “From the east.”

“What sort of damnable fool would try to make the harbor now?” Mrs. Kinley said.

“The rocks’ll tear them apart,” one of the men muttered.

The messenger spun around and ran off again, followed by everyone else. The tavern emptied as they all hurried to catch a
glimpse of the boat.

Grant’s hand tightened on Caroline’s arm. She thought of her own storm-tossed vessel, the cold waters closing over her, and
she felt a surge of fear for those people. It was a miracle that she had survived, for no one else had.

“They’re early,” Grant said low under his breath.

“Who is early?” Caroline asked in bewilderment.

“Come with me,” he said. He held on to her arm as he led her from the tavern. They didn’t follow the others to the cliffs
to peer down at the sea, but instead turned back
toward the path to the castle. He walked so fast that she had to practically run to keep up.

“What is happening?” Caroline cried. “Who are those people?”

Grant shook his head. “When we get to the castle, you have to stay in your room, Caroline. It’s safer that way.”

“My room? But…”

His grasp tightened, and he gave her arm a little shake. “For God’s sake, Caroline, for once in your life don’t argue with
me! Just listen and do as I say.”

“As you
say
?”

“As I ask, then.” He stopped in the middle of the road and turned to look into her eyes. The lines of his face were taut and
stark. “Please. Just stay there until I come for you.”

Caroline slowly nodded. “I will stay above stairs.” Upstairs—but perhaps not necessarily in her room…

G
rant paced the ramparts of the old tower, his spyglass trained on the sea far below. It was a much clearer day than the one
that brought him Caroline, the rainfall steady and soft, and he could see to the far horizon.

He could also see the vessel making its way to shore. It was pounded back by the waves, but then it would surge forward again,
plowing fiercely against the water. Clearly the occupants were very determined to reach Muirin Inish.

He still couldn’t quite make out the figures huddled on the deck. They were blurry masses at this distance, wrapped up in
oilskin coats and wide-brimmed hats. He knew who it was, though. No one else would be out there today.

“Donais,”
he growled. He snapped the spyglass shut and tapped it against his palm as he watched the vessel bob and weave among the
foaming waves. They were not supposed to arrive for several days yet; that was the agreed plan.

Grant stared down to the winding trail to the beach. They would not land there, but at the hidden cave below
the passageway so as to meet with no one. The villagers would know
someone
was on the island, but they wouldn’t know who. It would be easy enough for them to conclude their business and be gone with
no one the wiser as to what had really happened. It would be just one more wild, speculative piece of gossip about Grant and
the strange events at the castle.

But Caroline—she was too smart and too curious for her own good. And she was a distraction he did not need now. His task had
to go perfectly if all was to work as planned. He had to be focused and cold blooded. He cared not for his own safety now,
but he feared he cared all too much for Caroline’s.

He braced his hands against the wet stone and watched as the boat vanished around the cliffs to the other edge of the island.
They would be here soon, and the game would begin.

He turned to look up at Caroline’s window. The light glinted on the glass, and the wind caught at a bit of drapery and pulled
it out like a fluttering banner. She had opened the casement and was also studying the sea, but at least she stayed in her
room as he had ordered. How long would that last? Not long, he would wager.

Grant had not asked Caroline to come to Muirin Inish. He had thought that he’d never see her again except in his memories
or dreams. She would never know what he did to atone for the hurt that he had caused her in Dublin. But he
had
chosen to make love to her, to selfishly grab on to her light and goodness like a damned man reaching out for redemption
as he fell to hell. He had chosen to draw her to him when he should have pushed her away.

He wouldn’t be selfish now. She deserved so much
better. He had to make sure she was untouched by what happened here, and that she made it safely back to her life in Dublin.

With one more look to her window, he turned away and ran down the winding stairs to the foot of the old tower. His boots echoed
on the stone walls that stretched down into emptiness. Once the tower had had floors and chambers, where warlords of Muirin
Inish planned their raids and battles. Now there was just a shell and the stairs that twisted past blank walls—with an ancient
dungeon hidden behind a trap door at the bottom.

He went into the library and lit a lamp before opening the entranceway to the passage. His steps were sure and swift as he
hurried toward the cave. He had to forget Caroline now and focus only on what was ahead. It was the only way to protect her
now.

At the entranceway, he paused to study the little cove below. The boat had just landed there, and Grant could see it moored
out beyond the rocks, bobbing like a child’s toy. A smaller boat was making its way to the beach, with two burly sailors pulling
the oars with all their might to fight the strong current. Four other people huddled in between, still muffled in their coats
and hats.

It landed at last, the figures stumbling unsteadily onto the pebbled shore. One of them ducked behind a boulder and bent over
to be sick. Grant made his way down the slippery, winding path to greet them. It was time for the first move on the chess
board.

By the time he reached the beach, the sailors were already rowing back to their ship. Obviously they had had quite enough
of their “cargo” and would not return until summoned to bear them away again. The seasick one
still crouched behind the boulder, while another person knelt beside him proffering a handkerchief. The other two milled about
on the sand as they studied the cliffs.

“Ah, Sir Grant! Monsieur, we meet at last,” one of them called as he saw Grant approaching. The man’s oilskin coat flapped
open to show a fine dark brown wool coat with gold buttons, an impeccably tied white cravat—and a wide leather belt holding
a short sword and two pistols. He swept off his hat to reveal cropped golden hair and a surprisingly youthful, handsome face.

“I am Captain LaPlace,” he continued. His English was impeccable, only lightly touched with the lilt of a French accent. “It
is a pleasure to meet you in person at last. Monsieur Emmet has told us a great deal about you.”

Grant was sure he had. Robert Emmet had told them exactly what Grant wanted him to say. “So you are my contact, Captain LaPlace?”

“Of course. Here are my letters of introduction, all in order I assure you.”

Captain LaPlace drew out an oilskin-wrapped packet from his coat and handed it to Grant. As Grant scanned the lines and the
signatures and seals, the other three people moved closer. Caution hung heavy in the air, a tense wariness that felt like
walking delicately on the edge of a sharp sword. Everything could explode at any instant.

“
Merci,
captain,” Grant said, refolding the letters. “Welcome to Muirin Inish.”

A sunny smile broke across LaPlace’s face. He looked as if he should be performing in a schoolboy cathedral choir rather than
leading a covert mission. Very clever of Emmet and his allies to choose such an innocent-seeming emissary.

“
C’est bon!
And may I present my cousin, Monsieur
Michel, as well as the vicomte d’Allay. You are most aware of the vicomte’s errand here, I am sure.”

The vicomte was the man who had been ill behind the boulder, a thin, frail-looking figure of middle years with a pale face
and graying hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He gave a nod as he pressed his handkerchief to his lips. “Sir Grant.”

“Monsieur le vicomte,” Grant said. “I am glad you were able to make the journey.”

“Ah,
oui,
the sea does not agree with me,” answered the vicomte. “But I would have gone much further to accomplish this goal, monsieur.”

LaPlace’s cousin, Monsieur Michel, bowed but said nothing. He looked to be an older, harder version of LaPlace, and he also
had several weapons strapped to his hips. He held a tightly padlocked case under his arm.

The fourth person drew closer, and the vicomte held out his hand. “And this, Sir Grant, is my daughter, Mademoiselle Victorine
Muret. As my health is not good, she must accompany me when I travel.”

The mademoiselle swept back her hood, and lush auburn curls tumbled over her shoulders. Her bright green eyes, set in a creamy
oval face, sparkled as she gave a little curtsy. Her full, pink lips curved in a flirtatious smile.

She seemed to carry no weapons. Yet Grant was sure that of all the members of this mission, Mademoiselle Victorine was the
most dangerous.

But even as her smile widened and she stepped closer to him, giving him the complete effect of her immense beauty, he felt
coldly emotionless. She could not disturb him as much with all her lush beauty as one tiny glance from Caroline Blacknall
could.

“I hope you do not mind my uninvited intrusion, Sir Grant,” she said in a husky, lightly accented voice. “I must accompany
my father as he said, to make sure of his comfort.”

“I do not mind at all, mademoiselle,” Grant answered. He gave her a flirtatious smile of his own, one he had not used in a
very long time, and raised her gloved hands to his lips. “You are most welcome indeed to Muirin Inish. I only wish I could
offer you more luxurious accommodation, as you deserve. I fear my home is rather rough.”

“On the contrary,” she murmured. “I think I will enjoy my time here very much.”

Grant offered her his arm and said, “Come, let me show you to the castle. I fear it will rain again soon, and you must be
tired after your journey.”

“Thank you, Sir Grant,” said Captain LaPlace. “We are certainly eager to discuss our business here.”

Caroline peered cautiously over the edge of the balustrade to the foyer far below. She couldn’t see anything interesting at
all, but she could hear the echo of voices and she could feel the tension in the air. Even though it seemed that outwardly
nothing had changed, the whole feeling of the castle was transformed.

Something was definitely afoot. Grant’s “guests” had arrived. But who were they? What drove them to this bleak place in the
middle of a storm? Perhaps they were just mad, as she was.

She pressed closer to the carved wood of the railing and craned her neck to try to see more as she thought of
the walk back from the village. Grant had said little, and she had also kept silent when she sensed that he would tell her
nothing. Grant had always been a mystery to her, completely outside her experience of all other people, giving her only quick,
enticing glimpses of the man behind his careful, handsome mask. Even their raw, passionate night of lovemaking, so desperate,
so out of their control, had left him more hidden from her than ever.

And that mask was even more firmly in place as they hurried back to the castle. Only the grasp of his hand on her arm, so
tight and close, revealed any tension.

So far there was nothing she could see, just that enticing echo of conversation from somewhere down there. Once in a while
there was a burst of laughter that seemed incongruous with the solemn place.

Caroline heard a door slam somewhere along the corridor and the clatter of hurrying footsteps. She quickly ducked down below
the balustrade to kneel in the shadows. Maeve appeared in the corridor, the servants’ door at the end of the hall swinging
shut behind her. She held a large, covered tray in her hands, and her cheeks were flushed as if she had been working hard
that evening. She turned at the landing and went away from the direction of Caroline’s chamber and along another corridor
into the depths of the house.