My Lady Gambled (10 page)

“Brynmore will do, otherwise, Duneagan,” he answered gruffly, staring strategically at the gas lamp above and behind her head.

“Fine then, Mister Duneagan.” Brynmore winced slightly. “Your concern is noted. I easily could have been r-raped today. That was their partial intent after I came upon them.”

Brynmore felt a surge of relief as his gaze dropped to her. “They did not then?” The words leaped from his mouth.

Kit’s blue eyes were large with her lips pressed together as if trying to still their trembling, while she hugged both her arms across her waist, shaking her head slowly. His chest lifted and the urge to step forward and embrace her was unreasonable. He countered it with irritation that she had not left yet, after what had happened, combined with his subsequent warning for her to leave. It was only by chance that he was back in Paris to receive her message. The probable players of Baco, Cernno, and Dame Baset, at least, had set sail for England and right into the rest of the Archangels surveillance, leaving him free to follow any further clues here. That left the two primary hedonists, and as far as he was concerned, the true villains, yet to be found in all of this, Hellion and Incubus.

“But, I stayed, and then I searched Remior’s apartment and found something very important,” Kit said.

Brynmore felt a very large urge to throttle the woman. Of all the bloody foolishness, no matter what tidbit she had unearthed, it could not be worth the added or addlebrained danger she invited. She was no demure and shrinking violet this one, scared into returning to her country. He was about ready to blast her foolishness when, several thumps, rattles, and scraping sounds issued from behind another door in Miss Montoya’s room.

A whirling dervish could not have moved as fast as he did, heading toward that door.

“No! No! That is what I need to tell you,” Kit exclaimed.

“Stay back,” Brynmore ordered, grabbing the door handle. Brynmore shoved the door open with his gaze searching the dark interior. From the light of one room into the darkness of another bedchamber, his sight did not adjust quickly enough as he advanced into the room.

“Mr. Duneagan, wait please! Let me tell you!”

What Kit was saying finally started to register through the adrenalin rush of Brynmore’s instincts as his eyes adjusted to the sight of a dark shape that seemed to bounce on top of the bed. Brynmore’s gaze followed the half-sized shape as its shadow dropped from the bed to the floor. His first thought was that it could be a dog, but then, he heard the distinct clomping of feet as it rushed past him. Brynmore turned with his eyes following the stocky form into the light. A midget!

“This is who I found!” Kit exclaimed, as the small man wailed.

“No hurt me! No hurt!”

“Yojo!” Brynmore expelled. 

“You know him?” Kit asked in surprise, while Yojo scampered to the door.

Brynmore waylaid Yojo before he could get the door open, using his large hand over the top of the agitated man’s head to shove the door closed. Yojo turned away from the door, waddling hastily to the bed, where he climbed the bedpost like a half-pint acrobat. “No hurt Yojo!”

Yojo was bald, with dark saucer eyes, he had a flat nose and his mouth was slightly off centered. He stood under four feet tall and his stocky build was as though he carried no waist. He looked just like Joelle had described him. But, now his clothing was dirt smudged and torn in places. He looked as though he had been in a few tumbles. It seemed Yojo was not having a very easy time of it. Brynmore raised his hands with a calming gesture as he stepped slowly toward the only irrefutable link he had found to The Order of the Satyr. A positive link!

Brynmore Duneagan was certainly imperious, Kit thought. He never listened to a thing she said, like—stop! Wait! Listen to me! Instead, he ordered her about as though he had the authority to do it, confidently he propelled forward in any direction he thought he had a right to pursue, not listening and ordering her about. It sorely reminded Kit of her husband.

Kit stomped forward into the theatrics. It seemed while Brynmore Duneagan did nothing but order her to go back home, as if it were his arrogant male right over any woman he barely knew, she had done something very right! Kit reached the edge of the bed, and Yojo bounced forward to her, stopping and clutching her waist. The small man had tremors racking him, as she put her arms around him.

“No hurt Yojo!”

“We won’t. We won’t.” Kit soothed him.

It had been basically impossible to get anything coherent out of Yojo since she had discovered him cowering under the gowns in Remior’s closet. However, the one thing that obviously terrified Yojo was that Lord Incubus had deserted him. It became apparent that this strangely named Lord Incubus, Yojo’s master, was in fact Marco Remior. She was interested in Remior and his link to her brother. Furthermore, Yojo was obviously abandoned and not capable of fending on his own. Kit had convinced Yojo to come with her, to which he excitedly agreed to do, but since that time she had not been able to untangle the mysterious bits of information Yojo babbled.

Kit looked accusingly at Brynmore with for frightening Yojo as she patted Yojo’s back, and he bobbed with irrepressible energy in her arms. Brynmore’s hands fell to his side as he grimaced and stopped a few paces from them. Kit raised her eyebrow as if to say, see what a mere woman can find while you are so busy and high-handedly ordering her to go home. Kit saw Brynmore’s muscular chest rise and fall in a sigh, then he nodded to her, accepting her reproving look. Kit held back the quick smile of victory and empowerment she felt. It appeared that Brynmore knew Yojo, and she was going to start finding some things out now. 

“I’m a friend of Joelle’s,” Duneagan said quietly.

Brynmore watched Yojo bounce, and then fall with a slight thump against Kit. Yojo’s bald head turned, his black eyes wider that ever. Yojo looked up at him and mumbled one word that Brynmore could not catch, but Kit turned her gaze up to him, nodding. Brynmore assumed the little man had acknowledged Joelle’s name, and it bothered him that Kit had picked up the fact he had trouble hearing so quickly. He could not remember the last person who had studied him intimately enough to figure it out.

Brynmore slowly lowered to crouch with his forearms resting casually on his knees. “Aye, Sir Yojo, Joelle told me all about you. She misses ye and was worried about you. She asked that I find you.”

“Joelle!” Yojo chirped. “Pretty, pretty Joelle!”

“Aye,” Brynmore nodded. His tactic was working. Stooping and using more softly spoken words brought Yojo away from Kit to stand in front of him on the bed, swaying from side to side.

“Lady Joelle likes me,” Yojo nodded. Then he grew excited again clapping his hands. “Can I see her? Can I see her?”

“She is not in France, Yojo,” Brynmore said. “But, I might be able to take you to her—if you and I can talk a bit.”

Brynmore was unsure of Yojo’s degree of intelligence. Joelle thought he was as smart as any adult, while Saxon disagreed. Judging him now, Brynmore felt that Yojo used his childlike excitement and way of talking to placate other people into believing he was harmless. Brynmore’s reasoning, was the example of Joelle’s championing of him and Kit’s maternal instincts with him. He needed Yojo’s information, not riddles. Brynmore wondered for an instant whether it would be wiser to let Kit gather information from the little man. Yojo certainly leaned toward affection with women.

“I see that you like my friend Kit too, Yojo. It seems we have good deal of friends together.”

“Kit, nice!” Yojo exclaimed, waddling to Kit to grasp her robe with a small tug as Kit patted Yojo’s head.

Brynmore looked upward at Kit’s smoky blue eyes. His gaze caught movements near her mouth, and his eyes lowered to see her mouth voicelessly. “He has only babbled so far, making no sense.”

Brynmore rocked back on his heels with his gaze narrowing. Bloody hell, the woman knew he could read lips. How could she know that of him? Brynmore felt the irritation of being exposed, and he tried shrugging aside the odd feeling. He was momentarily distracted, so he might have spoken lacking calculation, his tone changing the outcome of his words, when he blurted, “Yojo, you and I both know about Incubus and Hellion, but only you know where to find them.”

Yojo screeched in babbling fright, before Brynmore finished his last word. Then, in the blink of an eyelash, Yojo dropped down to the floor and scrambled under the bed. “Yojo does not know Lord Incubus or Lord Hellion! Yojo knows nothing! Nothing! Nothing!”

“Bloody Hell!” Brynmore cursed.

“So tactful,” Kit’s husky voice pronounced as Brynmore raised his gaze to her, standing as he did so. Brynmore saw Kit’s hands planted on the swell of her hips, after the fashion his mother used to do when disappointed and set to scold him. Yojo kept babbling under the bed, and Brynmore had no hope of understanding what he said, although he wagered that Kit couldn’t either.

“And you could do bloody better, woman?” Brynmore asked.

“If I knew half of what is going on, which is my right, yes I believe I could!”

Balls. He’d walked right into that one. A spy never gave away his information, especially to unknown quantities. Of course, Kit was not such an unknown quantity anymore, that now appeared irrefutable. She was exactly what she seemed to be, a sister trying to find her brother with novice investigations. Any information he gave her would just feed her attempts.

“If you are thinking of taking Yojo and trying to leave, I will follow you wherever you go. I will make such a nuisance of myself that-.”

Brynmore held up his hand stopping Kit’s words, while his shocked mind flipped. What was it with this woman that she could read his very mind?! “You canna know what I’m thinking, woman!”

“Canna I?” Kit responded tartly. “You will not deter me, Mr. Duneagan! And, if you do not tell me what you know now, two things will happen. First, the men I hired to help me investigate this, will have your name on the top of the list. And, second, you will never get Yojo to talk, before you take him all the way back to Joelle, and then you might miss this Incubus because he could be here, right now, in Paris!”

“Incubus left Yojo! Left Paris!” Yojo screeched from under the bed.

Brynmore heard that! He lifted his upper lip to Kit in a male sneer. “Where did Incubus go?” Brynmore asked the bed.

“No! No! No! Yojo never heard of Incubus!”

Kit’s pretty lips smirked back at him and her cheeks seemed to glow with challenge. Brynmore did not want to admit what a fine-looking woman she was as he stalked toward her. He grasped her arm lightly, but with purpose, guiding her further away from the bed, crossing the room.

His voice lowered. “I would explain, but ye have to promise to go home and let me handle this. I give you my word on that-.”

“No,” Kit interrupted him. “I am in this all the way, Mr. Duneagan, with or without your help. Without, I am sure we will be stumbling across each other, as it seems what we are both searching for might lead in the same direction.”

“Are ye daft?” Brynmore retorted, with a sharp edge to his voice. “This is dangerous. We are not playing parlor games here, Miss Montoya!” 

“I’m now aware of that,” Kit said, lifting her arm from his grasp. “I am afraid to think about what this all means to where my brother might be.” Brynmore had a tragic feeling of where her brother might be. However, he would never voice it. “Tell me, would you stop if it were your family?” Kit asked in a fierce whisper.

Brynmore curled his fingers into fists on both of his hands. He was vehemently against involving Kit further, ever, if at all. But, he needed the information Yojo could provide. Now! Not days from now. The main villains could be getting away. Something was off somewhere. He could not trust that all the evil players were going to England. Otherwise, why would the German brothers have been ransacking Remior’s residence? Remior, who was likely Incubus. The fact that Incubus left Yojo behind did not sit well either. It appeared the group was breaking up their partnerships and not in a friendly way. Damn it, the woman had him by the balls and some inner intuitiveness she had over him told her so. He was going to regret this.

Kit watched Brynmore’s large hand rise, and he grasped her arm again, this time nearly dragging her behind the curtains. He began to tell her the tale in a low intense voice. Kit could barely believe the things Brynmore told her about the macabre names, Hellion, Incubus, Dame Baset and others. All members in The Order of the Satyr. Her heart grew cold when she realized that Clay had gotten a love letter from Remior, the supposed Lord Incubus. Brynmore explained about his friends, Saxon and Joelle, and the kidnapping. He told her about his combined friends and their intentions to stop the cult and its leaders.

Friends indeed. Kit wagered the male friends Brynmore spoke of were more than friends. What they were, she could not imagine, but Brynmore’s every reaction and movement told her that he was no novice at hunting down criminals. She knew without doubt that Brynmore left out large pieces. However, the parts he told her were horrible enough, and she shuddered away from hearing the worst, glad that he did not say it. Kidnapping, raping, sexual depravity, cult worshipers. It was all so bazaar. So unthinkable!

She believed Brynmore, because too many circumstances surrounding him fit too well. She had seen him at her brother’s, and then again at the police, and he knew Yojo’s name without asking. Oh, she believed him. It was just that the details about The Order of the Satyr were so hard to believe, and she clung to that because it gave her hope. Clay could be all right. He might not be involved with this at all. No one had seen him or placed him in these circumstances.

Nevertheless, Yojo might know, and she had to ask him as much as she dreaded it. She would have to ask him, as well as the things Brynmore needed to know. Kit was surprised at how she was able to remain composed on the outside, while she was a wreck on the inside. But, she held to the pretense, acting as if she was ready and strong enough to tackle what needed to be done.