Master of Seduction (3 page)

Of all the bizarre men….

Justin approached her and led her from the floor. “Is anything amiss?”

Lorelei shook her head as she glanced back to where the count had vanished. How could she possibly explain to Justin this strange feeling inside her?

Dare she tell him that for one mere instant, she had actually been attracted to another man?

T
he following night, the noisy tavern was filled with smoke and more unwashed bodies than Lorelei had ever smelled in her entire life. For the last two hours, she’d been avoiding hairy hands and thwarting rude advances as she listened to the seamen’s conversations for any tell-tale word of Jack Rhys.

It was sort of eerie, really, when she thought about it. One of these men could be the pirate who was rumored to have killed more men than the pox that had ravaged Charleston the year before.

Why, he could be that short man in his fifties at the bar who kept looking at her, or the young man sitting alone by the fire as he nestled up with a tankard of ale. Perhaps he was the solitary man in the corner who kept checking the door every time it opened….

What
would
such a man look like? Would he be tall or short? Dark-haired or fair?

Surely such brutality would show on his face.

Wouldn’t it?

Lorelei approached the table where her latest four customers sat. She set their tankards down before them. “Will that be all for you?” she asked, affecting the gruff tone of a tavern maid. “Or can I bring you some food?”

One man narrowed his gaze on her rump. “I’ll be having me some of this fine dish right here!”

With a newly practiced sidestep, Lorelei avoided the swipe the man directed at her backside.

“Come now, ducky,” she said with a note of warning in her voice. “
This
dish’ll be giving you a bad case of indigestion, not to mention the scalding burn I’ll deliver your cheek if you handle me wrong.”

Laughter broke out among the other three men at the table.

“Better watch out, Danny,” one of his companions, an older man of about sixty, said. “She looks as though she could do it, too!”

Lorelei balanced her tray up on her shoulder. “And if not me, rest assured my lover behind the bar over there will have all your heads.”

In unison, they turned to see Karl, the tavern’s owner, as he hefted a huge barrel of rum over one shoulder and placed it up on the rack above his head. Though only half an inch taller than Lorelei, he was built as stout as an oak and everyone who frequented the Boar’s Head was familiar with Karl Harringer’s nasty temper.

“You and that ugly bugger?” the youngest man at the table sneered. “I don’t believe you.”

Lorelei tucked her tray beneath her arm. “Hey, Karl,” she shouted to where he could hear her over the din of noisy conversations. “Who’s your love?”

Karl’s bear-like face cracked into a semblance of a smile. “Only you, my sweet Lori, only you.”

Smirking, she looked back at the four men whose faces were now pale. “You still be wanting to sample some of me fare?” she asked the seaman.

He hid his answer in his tankard.

Satisfied she had thwarted his advances, Lorelei made a round of her tables.

As she neared the back of the tavern, she caught Justin’s furious glare. He had shed his British Regular’s uniform in favor of a homespun jacket and plain buckskin breeches. Even so, he still held an imperious look to him that marked him as the youngest son of Lord Wallingford. Well, that and the way he sat ramrod stiff, as opposed to slumped over his mug like the rest of the tavern’s occupants.

He’d also forgone shaving this morning. He’d told her it was to make him look rough so that he would fit in with the seamen who frequented the tavern. In her opinion, it made him look silly.

But then not half as silly as his posturing, which had him constantly propping his hand on his hip before he remembered his role and dropped his hand back to his side.

Justin narrowed his gaze as she approached him and she could sense he wanted to strangle her. She was an outrageous and outspoken flirt. He’d always known that, and it had aggravated him since the day he’d finally taken notice of her.

In truth, she took great pleasure in tormenting him. All her life, she’d pushed the boundaries of tolerance just to see what she could get away with.

Justin claimed it was her father’s fault. Her father had always been far too indulgent of his only child, far too liberal with her education, and far too tolerant of her mischievousness.

“You’re looking a little pale, ducky,” she said saucily as she neared him. “Be needing another tankard of ale?”

His face dire, he declined. “Any word of Black Jack?” he asked.

She shook her head and dropped her accent as she pretended to wipe up a spill on his table. “There are a couple of pirates in here, but so far none are Jack Rhys.”

He glanced to his men, who were sitting at the table with him. The two of them had strict orders to see Lorelei to safety the instant Black Jack Rhys showed up.

“You be careful,” he warned.

“What?” she asked as she tucked her dishrag back into her sash. “With you, your men, and Karl? Who would dare harm me?”

He grabbed her arm as his gaze burned into hers. “Lorelei,” he cautioned again, pulling her closer to him. “This isn’t one of those stupid games we played as children. Black Jack Rhys would kill you in an instant.”

She crinkled her nose as she tried to pull her arm from his grasp. “He’d have to catch me first, and I’ve yet to meet a man who could.”

Justin sighed in aggravation and released her arm so that she could leave him.

As it had done almost continuously for the last two hours, the front door opened, ushering in a wonderful breath of fresh, clean air. Lorelei started to turn toward the door when all of a sudden, strong arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her back toward a darkened corner.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

The stench of ale and foul breath choked her. “Let me go,” she demanded in the same imperious tone that had made numerous grown men flinch.

She couldn’t see the man, but he raised one filthy hand up to grope at her breast.

“Ach, now, be nice. I’ll pay you well, I will.”

Terrified, Lorelei looked to Justin’s table. He’d risen to his feet and she could see his desire to help her. Just as he took a step forward, one of his men grabbed his arm and shook his head no.

Justin sank slowly back down.

How dare he!

She seethed, infuriated by his submissiveness to a man who ranked below him. Oh, when she got out of this, he’d be more than sorry. And get out of this she most definitely would. She wasn’t some meek little maid to be raped in the back room of a tavern.

Her desperation overriding her fear, she stomped the man’s instep.

He cursed sharply and released her.

Lorelei rushed out from the corner toward the door, which had just swung open again. Before she could reach it, the man seized her once more and slung her around to face him. For the first time, she saw his black beady eyes and greasy dark blond hair. His ugly face contorted by rage and lust, he shoved her back against the wall and started pawing her body with his huge hands.

“I said let me go!” she insisted, struggling hard against his grip. She tried to use her tray as a shield to force him back, but he wrenched it from her hands and tossed it to the ground.

“The woman made a request. You
should
obey her.”

Though low of tone, the deep-timbered voice seemed to roll across the room like thunder. Heavy, thick, and powerful. There was something very familiar about that voice.

She looked up and…

Her heart stopped.

The first thing she saw were eyes of deep, dark gray. Pewter eyes that held a smoldering fury inside their cold, deadly gaze. Pewter eyes that belonged to Count Arnaulf Hapsburg.

Instead of his impeccable court attire, he now wore a white linen shirt open at the neck, and his sleeveless, dark green embroidered waistcoat was unbuttoned and hanging open. Long blond hair fell midway to his back while the candlelight flashed against the long, wicked saber at his side.

He reached out and placed a hand on her accoster’s shoulder. “Did you not hear me?”

“This is between me and the girl.”

“The girl wants no part of you and you should honor her good taste.” One corner of his mouth turned up into a mockery of a smile. “Now unless you release her, it’s going to be between you and
me
.”

There was no compassion in his eyes while he waited impatiently for her attacker to decide.

The brute swallowed as sweat beaded on his forehead. He removed his hands from her and straightened his jacket with one hard tug at the lapels. “I beg pardon, miss,” he said at last. “I meant no harm.” And with those words spoken, he quickly rushed out the door.

Relieved, Lorelei stared up at the same handsome face she’d admired the night before. A face that, like Justin’s, was covered with a full day’s growth of beard. Instead of looking silly, his added a rugged quality to his chiseled features.

“What happened to your accent?” she asked.

The count faced her with a wry half-smile, then used the line men had been using with women since Adam and Eve. “I beg your pardon, what are you talking about?”

“You, why are you here, dressed like that? Speaking like that?”

He frowned at her as if she’d lost her wits. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”

Lorelei knew the game. It was the same one Justin had used when she’d caught him in an intimate embrace with Sophie Polke. The cad had actually tried to tell her she was seeing things.

She’d seen things all right—seen her fiancé’s hand groping Sophie’s backside!

The whole thing was the old
Let’s make the woman feel stupid so that she’ll leave it alone
ruse. A man only used it when he was hiding something.

In that instant she knew what it was.

Dear Lord, he’s Black Jack Rhys
.

She knew it. Deep in her bones and with every ounce of instinct she’d ever possessed, she knew this clever man was the only one who could thwart so many attempts to capture him.

And
you
danced with him
!

Taking a deep breath for courage, she realized the only way to get out of this would be to play along with his lie. Let him think that he’d convinced her she was wrong.

“Oh,” she said, trying to look contrite. “You’re right. I…I must be mistaken. Thank you for helping me.”

J
ack stood aside as she rushed away from him like Satan himself was in pursuit. He’d seen the recognition in her eyes just moments before she’d vacillated to his logic.

Damn the intelligent wench.

Watching her cross the room, he saw her head straight to her pasty-faced Englishman.

Jack growled low in his throat. He’d come here tonight to meet Morgan and the Patriot spy who wanted them to run supplies through a British blockade. Only the three of them knew Black Jack would be here tonight.

So then, who, of the three of them, was the traitor?

Well, he could easily account for himself. He hadn’t told a soul he planned to come here. And though he’d had plenty of people betray him over the years, Jack knew Morgan would never act dishonorably.

But the spy would.

Which meant Morgan was sitting in a trap and didn’t know it. Jack sighed. Once again, he was going to have to pull Morgan out of the fire. Damn that boy’s Patriot heart. Causes were for fools.

Heading for Morgan, he went to tell him the
wonderful
news.

Morgan was sitting at a table to the right of the bar. He looked up and nodded at Jack’s approach. “There you are.”

Jack ignored his greeting and slammed his fist straight into the jaw of the spy.

Morgan arched a curious brow as the man slid slowly to the floor. “What did he do? Wear the wrong color coat? Or is it his stock you find offensive this time?”

Jack leaned over the table. Resting his fists on the rough top, he narrowed his gaze on Morgan. “I’m assuming he’s the one who told the Regulars we’d be here tonight. Did I hit the wrong man?”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “What?”

Satisfied the shock on his friend’s face was sincere, Jack smiled grimly. “We walked into a trap.”

L
orelei looked triumphantly at Justin. “See. He’s Black Jack. He just struck a man for no apparent reason.”

“For all you know, Lori, the man seduced his wife.”

Lorelei straightened and eyed Justin with malice. “I’m telling you it’s
him
. Don’t you recognize him from last night? He was playing Count Hapsburg no doubt to gather information about—”

“Lori, please,” Justin said, his voice laden with stressed patience. “That man doesn’t look anything like the count. He’s obviously just some poor sailor come in to get a drink. The count was a good head taller and fair dripped with princely bearing. That man there is obviously a bluestocking. Besides, use your head, why would Black Jack Rhys come to the aid of a tavern whore?”

“I beg your pardon,” she ground out. “I’m not a whore.”

“You know what I mean.”

She threw her hands up. How could he be so dense?

Infuriated, Lorelei turned on her heel. “You want proof. I’ll give you proof.” She took three steps toward Jack and shouted. “Hey, Jack Rhys.”

The man she watched didn’t move.

“See,” Justin snapped. “He didn’t even flinch. I told you it wasn’t him.”

Lorelei bit her lip. He hadn’t moved, but everyone else in the tavern had looked. She had her proof.

She returned to Justin’s side. “Just go arrest him. If I’m wrong you can let him go.”

“If you’re wrong, I’m a laughingstock.”

W
hat are we going to do?” Morgan asked Jack, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

Unfortunately, Jack was all too used to dealing with these situations to be rattled by this latest bout of treachery. “I want you to walk out of here like nothing’s wrong. No one, other than our unconscious lump on the floor, knows who you are, so you’re safe.” He glanced to the spy on the floor. “At least until
he
wakes.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Jack…”

“I may have been spawned in the gutter, Morgan, but I’m not going to die in it. Now go on, get yourself to safety.”