The Beloved Scoundrel (7 page)

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Authors: Iris Johansen

BOOK: The Beloved Scoundrel
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“I didn’t say that,” he said testily.

“Or you could leave her here. We could tell Niko to find her a place of safety. You said yourself that it is a gamble. She may never be capable of giving you the Jedalar.”

“It’s a gamble I intend to take.”

“Then we must do what is necessary for her well-being.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“I have already thought about it. She is your ward, and when we arrive at Cambaron, we will get her a maid to accompany her and …” He paused. “What do they call them … an abigail?”

“Good God, a chaperon?”

“Of course, and then we can all live in peace and tranquillity.” He shot him a sly look. “And your sudden virtue will redeem you in the eyes of the dowagers at Bath.”

“I would have to become a monk to accomplish that feat.”

“It is true they consider you lost to sin, but anything is possible.” The captain was coming down the steps from the bridge, and Gregor said quickly, “It is only a small thing. It will do you no harm to protect the girl.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be protected?”

“She will accede to anything for the sake of the boy.”

That was true enough. The girl had demonstrated she would walk through fire to safeguard Alex. “I still don’t like it.”

“I know,” Gregor said. “And I think it is not because it will make you a favorite among the dowagers. You do not want her protected. Why?”

“She’s a hostage of war.” He smiled cynically. “It’s going to be difficult enough winning what I want from her. Why should I let you strengthen her position when I prefer her vulnerable?”

Gregor’s gaze searched his face, and then he slowly shook his head. “I do not think that is the complete reason. You may want her weak and vulnerable, but—”

“I didn’t say weak,” Jordan said sharply.

“No, that would be a blasphemy in one so strong and bold,” Gregor murmured. “Ah, and you admire strength. It attracts you like a glowing fire. Perhaps you want to—”

“I want you to stop making surmises that have no basis in fact.” Jordan turned and walked toward the captain.

“I will see you tomorrow morning at breakfast,” Gregor called after him, and then added even more loudly, “I must take these packages to your poor wards.”

He had made sure the captain heard his words, Jordan thought with annoyance. Whether he liked it or not, Gregor was trying to make sure his dove was settled safely in the niche he had placed her.

C
HAPTER
3

T
he sun shone on the water, turning it a silvery blue so brilliant, it hurt Marianna’s eyes to view it.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

Marianna turned to see Jordan Draken walking toward her. He was dressed in severe black and white, a stark contrast against the blue of the sea. “Well enough.” She paused before adding deliberately, “Your Grace.”

He smiled. “There’s little enough grace in the way you say that. I think you must call me Jordan instead.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, Your Grace.”

He studied her. “You’re more annoyed with me than usual. I didn’t think it possible.” He leaned one elbow on the rail. “Why?”

“I have no liking for dukes.”

“A natural enough reason. In your place I would feel the same. But I assure you I am no Duke of Nebrov.”

“You are not in my place. You cannot know how I
feel.” She added fiercely, “And how do I know you’re not the same? You want what he wants.”

“What is that?”

“Power. Do you deny it?”

“Yes, I already have more than enough power to suit me.” He saw the flicker of expression on her face. “That’s what you fear, isn’t it? You think I’ll use my power to make you give me the Jedalar.”

“I’m not afraid.” She met his skeptical gaze and said, “And of course you will use any weapon you have. Mama told me there would come a time when everyone would do whatever they had to do to claim it. She said that unless I—”

“What?” he asked after she broke off.

“Never mind. It’s of no consequence.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “I believe it may be of the utmost consequence.”

She tried to distract him from that slip of the tongue. “She was right, wasn’t she? There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to get it.”

He nodded wearily. “Yes, she was right.” He changed the subject. “Where’s Alex?”

“Gregor took him to meet the captain.”

“Have you both had your breakfast?”

“Yes.”

He smiled mockingly. “You see how concerned I’m being? The perfect guardian of innocent children.”

“I told Gregor it was a ridiculous idea. You have none of the qualities of a guardian.”

“I agree, but Gregor is adamant. So it seems we must all comply.”

“Why?” she asked with sudden curiosity. “What is Gregor to you?”

“My friend.”

“He says he takes care of you.”

“He did at one time. But then, Gregor takes care of everyone. It’s his nature.” He looked out to sea and asked suddenly, “Do you play chess?”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “Yes, I used to play with my father.”

“And are you adequate at the game?”

“No, I’m not adequate. I’m very good.”

He laughed, his face alight with amusement. “My apologies. I meant no insult. It’s my curse that I cannot bear to play with novices.”

“I’m not a novice. After the first year of play I bested Papa all the time.”

“Let us hope I’m better than Papa.”

“You wish me to play chess with you?”

“It will while away the time. It will take us weeks to get to England, and sea voyages can be stultifying.”

“Then play with Gregor.”

“Gregor refuses to learn the game. He gets too restless.”

“I’d think you would suffer the same malady.”

“On the contrary, I can be very patient—if the prize is worth the game.” He said softly, “And I think you would be an excellent opponent. You have a single-mindedness that bodes well for the match.”

“I have no time for games. I have to take care of Alex.”

“Ah, yes, your duty to the men of your family. I believe Gregor would be willing to watch over the child.” He shifted his gaze to her face. “Doesn’t the idea appeal to you? Think of it. You have a chance of humiliating me over the board and seeking out every weakness.”

In her present state of dependency that prospect was very tempting. “And give you an opportunity to do the same to me.”

“True, but I don’t think you’d be afraid to meet that challenge.” He smiled. “And it will keep you from going mad with boredom. I judge you’re not one who can stand being without a task to do. Will you join me in the master cabin in an hour?”

He was right. She was accustomed to working from dawn to dusk, and this journey would become excruciatingly tedious if she had nothing to do but look out at that blue sea.

“Continuing to be so wary of me will be both exhausting and uncomfortable for you,” Jordan said, sensing her wavering. “Propinquity brings a certain … acceptance.”

“Tolerance,” she substituted.

“If you wish to be blunt.”

“I wish to be blunt.” She frowned. “If I come, I won’t answer any of your questions.”

“Then how can we become acquainted?”

“I’ll ask
you
questions.”

“A very one-sided arrangement.”

“Or we will not talk at all.”

“But I’m a shallow fellow who cannot bear long silences.”

She snorted. He was as shallow as this sea around them.

“That was very unladylike. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard one of the females of my acquaintance make such a monstrous sound.”

She stared at him uncertainly. His eyes were glinting with mischief. “You’re … teasing me.”

“How clever of you to recognize, if not respond.
Don’t you ever smile?” He held up his hand. “Never mind, I’ll regard it as another challenge.”

“I’ve had little to smile about of late, Your Grace.”

An undefinable expression flickered on his face. “I realize that, but perhaps it’s time to start again. Now, you seem determined to address me with the respect due me. Is it that you think I’m your superior because of my birth?”

“You’re not my superior. Respect should be earned, not given. What have you done to deserve my respect? Have you created a beautiful panel of glass? Have you painted a wonderful picture?”

“Not lately,” he said mildly. “Since I’m so low on your scale of worthiness, don’t you think it’s absurd to address me by any but my given name?”

It was a small concession that would put them on a more equal footing, a status she desperately needed. “Jordan,” she said tentatively.

“Much better. By the way, you’re quite charming in that gown, Marianna.”

Charming? Was he teasing again? She looked down at the high-waisted white gown she wore. Probably. The garment was a little large and, even if it had fit better, she still wouldn’t have been able to fill out the bodice. “You’re going to see a good deal of it. It’s the only ready-made gown Gregor was able to find in Domajo.”

“I won’t get tired of it. I’ve always been fond of white.”

“My father liked white too,” she said absently.

“Did he? Then my taste is undoubtedly validated.” He turned and sauntered away from her. “Though I take umbrage at being compared in any way to your father. Being a guardian is bad enough.”

She gazed after him thoughtfully. A steely edge shimmered beneath the lightness of his tone, and she realized he disliked the position Gregor’s lie had put them in as much as she did. She would have to remember that tiny break in his armor. It was a weapon she couldn’t ignore, when she had so few.

T
he design on the panel of glass was very simple, the daffodils painstakingly executed. Yet it clearly lacked the skillful touch of a mature artisan.

“You found this in the cottage?” Zarek Nebrov held the small panel up to the light and then tossed it on the table. “It’s nothing. This crudeness has nothing to do with the Window to Heaven. You’ve brought me
nothing
.”

Marcus Costain protested, “I’ve brought you the information about the girl and her brother.”

“They could be dead now.” Nebrov strode over to the window and looked down into the courtyard. “You should have found out sooner about the children. We could have used them to make the woman talk.”

“You were in a great hurry that night,” Costain said impassively.

And in a fury of frustration about that stupid shattering of the Window at Talenka. He had almost lost everything, and the stupid woman had refused to reveal what he needed to know. If he hadn’t been so angry, he would have brought the woman with him and wrested the information at his leisure. He would never have permitted the bitch to taunt his sergeant into killing her before he had what he wanted. Blunder
after blunder. That fool had paid, but it had not given Nebrov the Jedalar.

“The farmer who lives next door to their cottage said this design was done years ago by a child of four. She brought it to them to show the farmer’s daughter. The girl could be much more skilled now.”

“Could she be hiding with this farmer?”

Costain shook his head. “She’s not with them. He’s too frightened to lie.”

“Then she could be anywhere in Montavia. Do we know what she looks like?”

Costain nodded.

“Then find her.”

“It will not be easy.”

“Will she desert the boy?”

“The farmer says no.”

“Try the stews first. It’s the easiest way for a girl to keep from starving. A whore caring for a young brother should be fairly easy to find.”

“I can no longer move freely about Montavia. King Josef is beginning to reassert his power in the west.”

While Nebrov was forced to stay on his lands for fear Josef would send his army after him. The anger began to rise again, and he forced it down. It was lack of control and overconfidence that had caused him to be here licking his wounds when he should be on the throne of Montavia. He must never make that mistake again.

“Then go slowly, but find her. Even if the girl doesn’t have the skill for the work, if she knows the secret of the Jedalar, it may be enough. I’ll find another craftsman to give me what I need.”

Costain hesitated. “It seems a great effort for—”

“Do it,” Nebrov said softly. He gestured to the panel of daffodils on the table. “And don’t bring me any more of this rubbish. I want the girl herself.”

Costain shrugged. “As you wish, Your Grace.” He turned and left the room.

As he wished? Nothing was going as he wished.

Very well, then that circumstance must be corrected. First, he must rebuild his army to make sure he was safe from that fool, Josef, and then he must set out in another direction. Josef would never be caught by surprise again, so he must discard Montavia from his plans.

Kazan? No, it was even stronger than Montavia.

He must have help if he was to gain dominance over either country.

Napoleon. He had been considering an alliance for some time, but he knew the emperor would never give Nebrov either Kazan or Montavia unless he was given something of equal value in return.

The Jedalar.

S
he moved her knight. “Why were you in Kazan?”

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