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Authors: Loretta Chase

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #General, #Regency

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BOOK: The Lion's Daughter
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Varian
raised no objection, however. The last thing he wanted at present was
to antagonize Ali. After last night's confrontation, it was a miracle
Lord Edenmont's head remained secured to his neck. Five hundred
pounds he'd rejected

for
the second time

to
leave Esme behind. His reasons had been closely examined. So closely
that Varian had felt he'd been turned inside out, scrubbed clean of
every secret, and wrung thoroughly dry.

Oh,
he'd won in the end

about
the time he'd begun to suspect Ali had intended that all along, and
the bribe was merely part of some convoluted Oriental game, or a test
of some sort. Then Varian could have kicked himself for refusing the
money. What would Ali have done had he accepted? What would the old
fiend do with a girl he knew wanted to cut his cousin's throat? Or
did the Vizier
want
her
to kill Ismal?

No.
Varian would not attempt to comprehend the labyrinthine mind of Ali
Pasha. That way madness lay.

The
Lion of Janina was standing when Lord Edenmont entered

a
promising sign of royal condescension. Much to his lordship's
astonishment, the Lion hastened forward to embrace him.

Via
Fejzi, Lord Edenmont learned he was as dear to his highness as a son,
and were circumstances otherwise, the Vizier would give half his
realm to keep this wise and brave lord by him always. Alas, one could
not keep him even another day. Ali could not, either, accompany his
lordship to Corfu, for duty called him elsewhere. There appeared to
be some difficulties in the southern realm; a little war may be
necessary to bring peace. Still, there was no need for alarm. Lord
Edenmont would depart this morning and reach Corfu speedily. He would
not wish to endanger the young ones by remaining.

Ali
spoke casually, as though he mentioned negligible matters. Hearing
Fejzi stammer through the translation, however, Varian experienced a
chill, as though an icy finger traced its way down his spine.

“I
told his highness last night I had no intention of lingering. What's
the meaning of this ominous hint?” he asked Fejzi.

“His
highness is concerned the Red Lion's daughter will continue to raise
difficulties that might slow your progress. At another time, her
waywardness would be amusing. At present, it could prove perilous.
Ismal is deeply disappointed. It is possible his friends will take
advantage of the Vizier's preoccupation with internal troubles. Ismal
one may easily lock in a dungeon. His friends, regrettably, are
everywhere. It could take months to find them all. You see, my lord?
His highness cannot properly attend to his realms until you are safe
among the British.”

“You
may assure him Miss Brentmor will not raise difficulties of any
sort,” Varian said tightly. “I'm aware she appeared
agitated when he last saw her. She has since recovered her composure.
She has promised to go peaceably with us, and I've no doubt whatever
that her word is as good as that of any gentleman. What the devil is
that racket?”

The
next room had erupted into cries and shouts, crashes and thumps. The
words were hardly out of Varian's mouth when Percival hurtled through
the door, and two burly guards after him. One managed to get hold of
the boy's arm, but let go abruptly at Ali's sharp command.

Percival
scowled at the guard, straightened his coat, and marched up to
Varian. “I apologize for the disturbance,” he said
somewhat breathlessly, “but it couldn't be helped. Something
most vexatious has happened.” He withdrew a piece of paper from
his breast pocket and, his hand shaking, gave it to Varian.

Varian
gave the note a swift glance, though he didn't need to. Percival's
white, stiffly composed countenance told him all he needed.

His
own features rigid, Lord Edenmont turned to Fejzi.

“Would
you be kind enough to express to his highness my admiration for his
perspicacity?”

“I
beg your pardon, my lord?”

“It
would appear there will be a delay, after all,” Varian said,
his voice deadly calm. “The young lady has bolted. Please
convey my apologies for the imposition, but I must ask his
assistance. I am obliged to locate her and wring her deceitful neck.”

RISTO
SLIPPED NOISELESSLY into the luxurious chamber and hurried to the
divan,
where
Ismal lay sulking.

“The
girl's fled Tepelena,” Risto said without preamble. With his
master, he rarely wasted words.

Ismal
slowly drew himself upright, his blue eyes jewel-bright with
interest. “Has she, indeed? You're certain?”

“Aye.
She took off, in a rage with the English lord about who knows that.
They've been looking for her since early morn, very quietly. You
wouldn't know anything was amiss— unless you saw the parade of
poor devils marched in and out of Ali's apartments. They've only just
finished with me. You were next on the list, but luck's with you this
time. They've found the guard she knocked unconscious. They found him
gagged, bound with his own belt, and stuffed into the chest she
climbed on to get out the window.”

“She
overpowered a guard?” Ismal mouth curved into a reluctant
smile. “There's not one under six feet, and all are well over
twice her weight. Still, if she was in a great temper
...
she's very quick, stronger than
she looks, and clever besides.”

“It
hardly matters how she did it. She's gone, beyond a doubt.”

“And
no one knows why?”

“Fejzi
said she left a note for the boy. She wrote that every man but you
had deceived her.”

The
blue brightness intensified. “Did she, indeed? I wonder, then,
why Ali didn't summon me instantly, to accuse me of enticing the girl
away.”

“I
don't know. There was more to the note, but all else Fejzi would tell
me was that she'd warned the boy not to let himself be used as she
had been. The English lord wouldn't let anyone else read it. I'm sure
the rest was all abuse of him. He seemed calm and insolent as usual,
but he wasn't so within. One felt it.”

“Doubtless
he was contemplating murder. I wish you'd heard how she berated him
last night.”

“I
don't know what he contemplated,” Risto said tightly. “I
don't trust him. He's not what we thought.”

“Nothing
is.” Ismal turned his gaze to the fire. “So much gone
awry,” he said. “So many complications. I don't know who
killed Jason or why. I don't know what brought the baron here

with
that boy, of all boys. I know only that they've upset my plans. From
the moment the chess piece left my hands, my beautiful schemes became
so many tangled threads, and one by one, I see them slip from my
grasp. Now I wonder how and when the black queen will appear
...
to seal my doom, perhaps.”

“You've
been brooding. You let your mind turn everything dark,” Risto
chided. “The chess piece is at the bottom of the sea or a
river, or in Serbia with those incompetents who couldn't tell a boy
from a girl. We've searched everywhere for it. Even if the girl or
her friends ever did have it, they couldn't know what to make of it.”

“I've
told myself the same, yet my instincts answer otherwise. I should
have heeded them and left Tepelena while I had the chance.”

“You
hadn't a chance. The instant you stir from this room, you're
followed.”


She
got away

a
mere female.”

“A
she-devil's more like it,” Risto said angrily. “She's
nothing but trouble. Now at least you won't have to keep pretending
you're dying of love for her. Humiliating, it must have been, to beg
for that ugly bitch.”

“Not
at all. It was most entertaining. Unfortunately, it was also very
expensive. A thousand pounds last night's performance cost me. I
could have bought rifles, men

the
aid of the Sultan himself.” Ismal paused, his blue eyes
clouding. “At the very least, I could have got the girl.”

“You
don't want her,” came the hasty answer. “A scrawny witch
with a vicious tongue. I'd as soon bed a cobra.”

Ismal
smiled, ever so faintly, at the fire. “Ah, well, you have no
taste for women.”

“You're
not overly fond of them yourself.”

“That
doesn't mean I share yeur appetites. Were I capable of desiring a
man, I'd have bought the beautiful English whore. An intriguing
specimen, is he not, with his coal-black hair and white skin and
silver eyes. Should I have bought him for
you,
perhaps? From all one hears, there's
little he won't do, for a price.”

Risto's
olive countenance darkened. “He wouldn't give up the little
demon

yet
he got your money anyhow, in the end.”

Ismal
shrugged. “As soon as I learned they were coming to Tepelena, I
realized it would cost me. Even when Lord Edenmont rejected my offer,
I knew I'd pay. As I expected, Ali generously offered to ease my
troubled conscience last night by relieving me of the thousand
pounds. He said he needed it to bribe the Englishman. That I greatly
doubt. I lied to him; he lied to me, and I ended by paying, as one
always does. Still, you'd think he'd at least let me have the girl.”

“Again,
the girl,” Risto said impatiently. “She's gone and good
riddance. Why do you go on and on about that red-haired scarecrow?”

“On
and on?” Ismal turned to his servant and arched one well-shaped
eyebrow. “So much hostility, Risto? Very strange. One would
think you were jealous.”

Pain
flashed briefly in the servant's dark eyes. “You please to mock
me,” he said. “You've always done so

since
you were a babe.”

“Would
you rather I lied to you, as I do to everyone else?” Ismal
asked softly. “Shall I wear my pretty mask for you, too?”

“Nay,
I couldn't bear it.”

“Then
stop acting like a jealous wife. You never did so before.”

“You
never behaved so strangely before.” Risto hesitated a moment,
then went on, in aggrieved tones. “Last night you called out
her name in your sleep.”

Ismal
calmly studied his servant's face for a long, tense while. “I
see: And this morning, she vanished. I hope you didn't make her
vanish, Risto.”

“Y'Allah,
I should have known. You have been playing with me.” Risto
closed his eyes. “I did not kill her, I swear it.”

“What,
then?”

“You
know,” the servant said miserably. “Always you know.”

“I
know I woke before the sun rose and found you gone from the room. I
know a few moments ago when you brought me news of Esme's departure,
your black eyes shone with delight.”

Risto
winced.

“Her
disappearance endangers me, Risto, yet you're pleased. Most strange
in a devoted servant
...
and friend.”

Risto
fell to his knees before the
divan.
“Listen to me,” he
pleaded. “You can't stir a step toward the south while they're
headed that way. If the weather turns bad again, they could be
traveling for weeks. You must leave for Prevesa within days, but you
scarcely think of that. While the girl's within reach, all your mind
fixes on her

and
that filthy Englishman. You said yourself last night you were trapped
by your own scheme. Had you but waited another few days, you said,
Jason would have disposed of himself. Now his curst daughter has
disposed of
herself,
and
it will be Ali who's distracted chasing after her. This is your
chance to get away
—”


Has
she disposed of herself, Risto?”

“May
the Almighty strike me dead this instant if I lie to you,” the
servant said. Tears trickled down his hard, dark face. “I did
not touch her. I saw her go, that is all.”

“And
told no one. And did not try to stop her.”

“I
followed her a ways. That is all. I did nothing.”

Ismal
leaned toward his servant, his blue eyes innocent as a babe's, kind
as an angel's. “Which way did she go?” he whispered.

Chapter
18

FOR
ONCE, LUCK WAS WITH ESME. SARANDA'S tiny population had swelled to
thrice its size for the festivities, and she'd managed to arrive a
day before Donika's wedding. She had spotted Donika's brother Branko
shortly after her arrival but waited until nightfall to reveal
herself. By then, most of the men were in the early states of
intoxication and the women in a frenzy of preparation. They wouldn't
have noticed an elephant stampede, let alone the bedraggled boy Esme
appeared to be.

BOOK: The Lion's Daughter
4.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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