The Curse of the Singing Wolf (35 page)

“In that case, it is time to
reassess your opinion. Dr Watson has recently successfully solved
the Baskerville murders, the Lammermoor murders, the penny dreadful
murders in York, and the recent murder of a clairvoyant – all
without
the assistance of Mr Holmes.”

He seemed to find something
interesting in that run of information. “Were you travelling with
him during the solving of those cases?”

“Yes, I was fortunate enough to
witness him in action.”

Moriarty laughed crudely.
“Perhaps my brother targeted the wrong sleuth!”

That derisory remark was made
entirely in jest but the Countess felt a cold chill.

“A pointless death,” she mused,
suppressing a repellent shiver.

“Two pointless deaths,” he
corrected blandly. “But since all life is pointless - death is
merely the end of pointlessness.”

“A nihilist?”

“A realist,” he corrected.

“Cynic or Stoic?”

“Yes to both.”

“You should consider joining
the Diogenes Club. I hear they are like-minded in their
philosophy.”

“I have been put up for
membership three times and thrice rejected.”

“Take heart,” she parried
sardonically, “they will not allow me to join either.”

He laughed richly and cupped
the back of her head.

“Take care,” she warned when
her heart started thumping and she fought against aiming a nervous
backward glance to see who might be watching, praying that Dr
Watson was still sleeping soundly where she had left him, “we have
an audience in the saloon car.”

“Reichenbach is snoring and
Orczy is facing the other way.”

“And Lalique?”

“The girl is a natural born
coquette, she will get an early lesson in the wicked ways of
unscrupulous men.”

“Are you admitting to being
unscrupulous?”

The kiss that followed said it
all.

When he broke off the
passionate assault he braced for the slap that never came.

“You didn’t slap me,” he mocked
with a self-deprecating yet triumphant smile. “Does that mean you
enjoyed it this time round?”

“What makes you think I didn’t
enjoy the previous times? Perhaps I am as unscrupulous as you.”

With his heart pounding and his
belly on fire, he was holding onto himself as tightly as it was
possible for a man to do who was about to self-combust with lust.
“We would make a brilliant partnership – you and I – your money and
brains; my strength and cunning.”

“I’m not after a husband,” she
reminded with feminine
froideur
. “The role of obedient wife
does not suit me.”

“How does disobedient mistress
suit?”

The locomotive lurched
suddenly, threatening to unbalance her. She gripped the handrail
for support, ignoring his proffered arm. “It has certain
possibilities. I will let you know if I ever decide to take you up
on the offer, Colonel Moriarty.”