Dancing on the Wind (24 page)

She darted behind the sofa. "I think you're mad, Lord Strathmore. Or very, very drunk."

He circled behind the sofa after her. "I assure you I am not drunk, and if I'm mad, it's you who have caused me to lose my wits."

She retreated again. "Stay away from me!"

"Don't be hen-hearted. The one thing I do expect from you is brazen courage."

She dashed around the far end of the sofa before he could reach her. "I'm not who you think I am!"

He paused and made an elaborate show of examining her. "Same face, same figure, same coloring." His mouth hardened. "And the same lying gray eyes. Only the name has changed, and that doesn't count since you've claimed a different identity each time we've met."

She tried to slide away again, but the room was too small. In two swift steps he had cornered her. She flattened her back against the wall and quavered, "What are you going to do?"

"The idea of murder is tempting." He reached for her.

"But I'll settle for completing what was interrupted when you ran away the last time we were together."

"Don't touch me!" she cried. "I'll… I'll scream for help."

"The way everyone out there is chattering, you won't be heard." As soon as he touched her, he realized how much of his anger was frustrated desire. He wanted her— dear God, how he wanted her, even though he couldn't trust her an inch.

He enfolded her in his embrace, needing to feel the slim length of her body against his. "Don't fight the inevitable," he said softly.

She tried to wriggle free. "There is nothing inevitable about this!"

"No?" Gentle but implacable, he held her captive in the circle of his arms. "Relax, my dear. I won't hurt you, because I can't stay angry with you, no matter how hard I try."

She made a choked sound and hid her face against his shoulder. He stroked her back, patiently waiting for the intense mutual attraction to work its magic. Gradually, her rigid body began to soften, becoming all warm, carnation-scented femininity.

He rested his cheek against her coiled hair, suspended in a curious state between peace and crackling desire. "A pity we can't be like this all the time," he murmured as he skimmed his hands over the familiar, supple curves of her back and waist.

His words jarred her out of her compliant state. She planted her hands in the middle of his chest and shoved herself away. "We shouldn't be like this at all!"

He braced his hands against the wall on both sides of her so that she could not escape. "Is the problem another man in your life? Tell me so at least I'll understand what I'm up against."

"You don't really want me!" she said vehemently.

"You're wrong. I want you very much." He brushed his fingertips over her cheek in a feathery caress. Her complexion had the smooth, fragile delicacy of a blossom. "And this time, I intend to have you."

"No!" She bit her lip, as if wrestling with a decision.

At length, she took a deep breath, then said unevenly, "I didn't want to tell you this."

"Tell me what?" he said encouragingly.

She gave a twisted smile. "I fear, Lord Strathmore, that you have confused me with my sister—my identical twin sister, Kristine."

After a startled moment, Lucien laughed out loud. "I glad to see your imagination hasn't failed yet, but surely you can come up with something better than a mythical twin sister. That's a plot device from a Gothic novel."

"Kristine is not mythical—she is a comic actress who performs as Cassie James. You obviously know her, but you most assuredly don't know me." She swallowed hard. "So for pity's sake, don't blame me for whatever you think my sister has done."

Lucien hesitated. Damnation, but the girl was convincing. He studied her earnest face. Every feature, line, and hollow was exactly as he remembered. The soft brown hair that glinted with gold and the slim, graceful figure were equally familiar. There was no sign of the bawdy vitality of Sally or Cassie James, but her demeanor was similar to that of "Jane" when she had claimed to be a young lady trying to help her brother.

Based on her record, Lady Nemesis was quite capable of acting the role of shy Lady Kathryn Travers, poor relation. She had also, briefly, responded to his embrace as naturally as if it was familiar. Yet there was something in her voice that caused him to wonder if she might possibly be telling the truth.

There was one way to find out, even a consummate actress would have trouble concealing her identity in a kiss. He drew her close and bent his head.

Before their lips could touch, she jerked back and hit him with a ringing slap across the cheek. "How dare you, sir!"

Yes, she was strong. Yet what caused him to release her was not force, but the note of outraged virtue in her voice. It was hard to believe that even the most gifted of actresses could sound so much like an offended virgin.

Cheek stinging, he scrutinized Kathryn's face once more. Yet even though he used all his trained powers of observation, she still looked exactly like the duplicitous minx who had brought chaos to his orderly life. Except, perhaps, there might be more vulnerability in the depths of those clear gray eyes than he had seen before. "No twins are truly identical," he said slowly. "There are always subtle differences, yet I see none in this case. And believe me, I speak as one who has studied you with great concentration."

She blushed and ducked her head as if embarrassed by the warmth in his eyes. "All of our lives, people have said that Kristine and I are the most identical twins they've ever seen," she said haltingly. "But believe me, if Kristine was here, you could tell us apart instantly. You'd never notice I was in the room, because she has the kind of vitality that draws every eye."

"Many actresses and actors have that ability, and they can turn it off when they choose to," he said, unimpressed. His eyes narrowed. "When Lady Graham introduced us, you recognized me, though you tried to conceal your reaction."

"That wasn't recognition, but alarm," she said tartly. "You were glaring at me as if I were a cockroach."

"Surely not a cockroach," he said with an involuntary smile.

"Your expression was enough to terrify any innocent female." She went to stand by the fire, her head bowed. "I don't know what is between you and Kristine, and frankly, I don't want to know. My only desire is to be left in peace."

"I'm still not convinced that you have a sister." He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, regarding her thoughtfully. "Since my experience is that you are a fluent liar, I'll need stronger evidence than your unsupported word."

She raised her head and gave him an icy glance. "I can't see why the burden of proof should be on me. I was minding my own business when you assaulted me."

Good God, what if she really was an innocent stranger who had never seen him before? An appalling thought. "If you're telling the truth about having a twin sister, I'll owe you a groveling apology."

A hint of smile showed in her eyes, as if the prospect pleased her. "Prepare yourself to be humbled, Lord Strathmore, because Kristine is as real as you are."

As she became more relaxed, Kathryn paradoxically seemed both more and less like the woman he knew. She had the familiar quicksilver intelligence, yet it was coupled with a cool reserve that was new to him. Of course, an actress could simulate that.

He was more likely to get information by being conciliatory instead of accusing. "I know it's an impertinence on my part, Lady Kathryn, but would you be willing to explain why you and your sister are leading such different lives?"

At the implication that he had accepted her story, she relaxed even more and took a seat by the fire. "It's really quite simple. My father was the fourth Earl of Markland. The Traverses have never had any distinction apart from charm, wildness, and a tendency to produce identical twins. The family seat, Langdale Court, was in Westmoreland."

He took the chair opposite her. "Was?"

She sighed. "My father inherited a load of debts and promptly piled on a mountain of his own. The house was falling about our ears when we were growing up. My mother died when we were ten, and after that we ran wild. If some of the ladies in the neighborhood hadn't taken an interest in us, we would have been complete heathens. Papa managed to hold off the bailiffs when he was alive, but after his death five years ago, the estate went to auction, the title went to a second cousin in America, and Kristine and I were left penniless."

"Your father was so irresponsible that he made no provisions for your future?"

"Thinking about the future was not in his nature," she said dryly. "I suppose he thought that eventually he would dower us with the winnings from some card game, but he never got around to it. My mother was a vicar's daughter who was disowned after eloping with my father, so there was no help from her side of the family either. Kristine and I were in the position of any other young ladies of good birth and no fortune."

"Which is not a good position at all."

"Precisely. One can marry, find work, or become a poor relation existing on charity."

"Marriage would seem the logical choice. You are both very attractive young women."

"It takes a great deal of beauty to overcome the lack of a dowry," she said cynically. "And there were… other reasons."

He wondered what they might be, but refused to let himself get sidetracked. "Is that when you came to live with Lady Jane?"

She nodded. "Fortunately, Aunt Jane had inherited a modest independence from her grandmother, enough to maintain an establishment here in London. I was happy to accept when she offered us a home, since I don't think I would make a very good governess, and I certainly wasn't qualified to do anything else."

When she fell silent, he prodded, "What about Kristine?"

She gazed into the dancing flames. "My sister is ten minutes older than I, and she inherited both of our shares of the Travers charm and wildness. She's too headstrong, too independent to settle for a quiet life with a blue stocking aunt. She had always loved acting and performing, and she often organized plays and concerts. So she decided to throw propriety to the winds and try for a career in the theater."

"And so the two of you become classic examples of good twin, wicked twin."

Missing the irony in his tone, she said sharply, "Kristine is not evil, simply braver than most. She would never take the coward's way out."

Was that how Kathryn saw her own life—as the coward's way out? "The theater may not be evil," he said mildly, "but it is an unusual choice for a gently bred girl. Her reputation would be destroyed."

"Kristine said what use is a reputation when it comes to putting food on the table? If she was going to be poor, she might as well enjoy herself. She chose to use a stage name to avoid embarrassing the family, not that there is much family left to embarrass. It took her several years, but as you know, she's now doing very well."

"Do you keep in close touch with her?"

Expression troubled, Kathryn turned her gaze back to the fire. "Though Aunt Jane has radical political views, her personal moral standards are of the highest. She strongly disapproved of Kristine's decision and forebade her the house. That made it… difficult for me to see my sister."