Gypsy Lady (12 page)

As he paused, Roxbury
responded tartly, "If you're alluding to an earlier attempt to search your
rooms and the time you had the altercation with that footpad, I'm already aware
of the incidents. And being as well acquainted with me as you are, you should
have known I'd know about them!"

Stung by his uncle's
scathing tone of voice and feeling very much like an erring schoolboy, Jason,
his mouth tight with rising anger, snarled, "As a rule I don't associate
with such cunning men as
yourself
, so you'll forgive
me if I occasionally forget the devious principles that you take such delight
in following." Then fighting to control his blazing temper, he added in a
calmer tone, "I gather you've had someone dogging my footsteps ever since
I arrived in London. And if that's the case, why the hell did he let me walk
into that fool last night?"

Outwardly unruffled by
Jason's angry outburst, the duke said gently, "May I say first that I've
set no one to spy on you? That it's of a recent date that a man was assigned to
watch your residence? I might add it was by accident I learned of the first
attempt to examine your rooms and the footpad's attack." If Roxbury had
hoped to soften Jason's anger, he was doomed to disappointment, for his
nephew's face remained coldly hostile, and Roxbury experienced a faint stab of
regret that the openness that had existed between them was gone. Jason never
trusted lightly, and the duke had always been secretly pleased that his wild,
headstrong nephew preferred him to his own father; the duke returned the feeling
by favoring Jason above his own sons.

It had been a mistake on
his part—the duke admitted it heavily to himself—not to have taken Jason into
his confidence. He knew he could trust Jason with his very life, and it had
only been his innate cautiousness that had caused him to withhold the
information. Unfortunately, it was too late now to explain that to the very
distrustful young man before him, and as he sought for words that would at
least establish a semblance of the old intimacy, Jason interrupted his
distressed thoughts by saying icily, "All of what you've said, if true, is
extremely enlightening, but I'm still waiting for an answer as to why your spy
made no effort to stop me from entering what very well could have been a
murder attempt on my life?"

Tiredly, the duke answered,
"For the simple reason that your intruder had already slit my man's
throat!"

An
arrested expression in his green eyes, Jason stared thoughtfully at his uncle.
He, as much as Roxbury, was unhappy with the sudden estrangement that lay like
a sword between them. And, while it might be disillusioning to discover his
uncle hadn't trusted him and had set a spy outside his very door, at the moment
the knowledge that someone had wanted to search his belongings badly enough to
kill someone unsettled him more. Realizing also that he had been giving in to a
deplorable tendency to act like a sulky youth, he asked in a much more
reasonable tone of voice, "Why was someone watching me in the first
place?"

Unconsciously
Roxbury relaxed. "A number of reasons brought me to that decision. Unlike
you, I connected immediately those first two events. You might remember it's my
job to do so; and due to the nature of my work, I'm afraid that over the years
I've become very suspicious of even the most innocent-appearing actions. So,
when Clive Pendleton engineered another meeting between you and that doxy of
his, I became even more suspicious. From my limited observations, it appeared
their interest was not so much in you, but in your dealings with myself and
the American minister, Rufus King, which not unnaturally led me to believe your
minor role in delivering the Jefferson dispatches had become known. And
knowing Pendleton's past activities, it seemed logical that being unable to
learn more from you, eventually he would have your rooms searched for any bit
of information he could find."

The
duke paused and glanced at Jason. Jason was partially dressed in a pair of
yellow nankeen trousers and a white linen shirt, open almost to the waist. He
was at the moment lounging casually against one of the huge bedposts, his long
legs crossed at the ankles and his arms folded lightly over his chest. He was
regarding his uncle intently, and Roxbury cursed himself silently for not having
enlisted his assistance the minute Pendleton had appeared on the scene.

Jason
had followed his uncle's words intently and as the duke paused, he broke in
saying, "You don't have to tell me more. I can guess the rest. You hoped
to trap Clive in an embarrassing situation that he wouldn't be able to explain
away."

Roxbury
nodded, an exasperated cast to his mouth, and
he
said disgustedly, "And all we gain from our attempt is two corpses!"

A lopsided grin crossed
Jason's face, and seeing the laughter lurking in the green eyes, Roxbury was
moved to remark stiffly, "It's not amusing! This was the first time that
I'd even a hope Clive would make a mistake. I must admit, though, I'm surprised
he's just now becoming interested in your activities." Then, as if struck
by another thought, he asked suddenly, "Jason, are you absolutely positive
there isn't something else the intruder could have been after?"

Frowning, Jason said
slowly, "I have no information that would interest a spy, and the only
other item of any value that wasn't in the room is this!" As he spoke, he
walked over to Roxbury and, undoing his shirt, shook his right arm free of the
garment. The limb he held out for his uncle's inspection was as sun-darkened as
his face, and from the supple muscles that rippled under the brown skin, it was
obvious that he was no city fop. But Roxbury's gaze was riveted by the wide
band of gold, set with
emeralds, that
encircled
Jason's upper arm.

The duke picked up the
quizzing glass that hung from a black silk ribbon around his neck and closely
examined the piece. It was a beautiful item, barbaric in design, and on further
perusal, he discerned the faint signs that at one time there had been
engravings upon the band. He stared at it bemused, realizing it must be
centuries old, and was instantly struck by how appropriate it looked on Jason
as he stood there, black hair falling across his forehead, dark lean-muscled
chest bare, and his eyes as green as the emeralds in the gold band. He appeared
the embodiment of a wild, savage prince, and the duke felt a slash of almost
paternal pride in the young animal before him. But his voice held no hint of it
as he drawled, "Very pretty."

Grinning at his uncle's
prosaic remark, Jason shrugged on his shirt and laughed, "You old devil.
You're curious as hell about the Aztec band."

"Aztec?" asked
Roxbury, interestedly.

Nodding
his head.
Jason added carelessly, "I found it years ago in Spanish territory and can
only surmise how it got there. I was enchanted with it, from the moment I
spotted it, and I've never taken it off since then. You might say it's my
talisman."

"Do you think last
night's intruder was after
that?"

Sarcastically, Jason drawled,
"I doubt it. I assure you, I don't go around removing my clothing to
display it."

"Well, why the deuce
did you bring it up then?" shot back the duke, now in a bad temper.

In dulcet tones, Jason
answered,
"You
were the one who asked if there was anything
else."

His uncle viewed his
grinning nephew from under those heavy black brows and was not diverted.
"Very amusing, Jason.
Now, if you're prepared to be
serious, we can get on with it! I haven't all day. The prime minister, Addington,
is expecting me at one."

Jason shrugged his wide
shoulders. "What else is there? I have no information, except what's in my
extremely hard head, which you refer to often enough. And aware of Clive's
interest, it isn't likely I'll betray my knowledge. So, if we follow the assumption
that last night's contretemps was at his instigation, there's nothing else to
do but wait until —if—he makes another attempt."

"Well! I'm glad you
acknowledge the fact that he might still find you an absorbing item!"

A bark of laughter greeted
Roxbury's sharp words.
"Uncle, uncle, when will you
admit that you're not the only one who can foresee probable events?"

"Jason, this is not a
frivolous new pastime! Clive, and those like him, must not learn of the
possible treaty between Britain and America. This uneasy peace will not last,
but we in England must spin it out for as long as possible. If Napoleon was to
learn of the terms of the proposed treaty, it would give him the very excuse he
wants to invade New Orleans, or he could use it as a reason to break the
Treaty of Amiens."

Sobered by Roxbury's grave
words, the teasing glint died abruptly in his green eyes, and Jason said,
"I don't treat it as lightly as you imagine. I assure you, I shall tread
very warily around Clive and the delectable Elizabeth."

His uncle sighed and
muttered darkly, "Just make positive you do!" Changing the subject,
he asked, "Did you receive an invitation to Brownleigh's houseparty?"

Slightly startled at the
change of conversation, Jason raised one brow but answered willingly enough,
"Yes. I'm looking forward to it. I elected not to stay at Brownleigh's
house, though, and have made arrangements to stay at
an
inn nearby. I'm meeting Harris and Barrymore there."

"When
do you join the party?"

Becoming
impatient with the questions, Jason demanded, "Is there a reason for this
excessive interest in Brownleigh's soiree?"

"Yes,
Jason, there is a reason. Don't be obstructive, answer the question!"
snapped the duke.

Nettled,
Jason was of a mind to show his uncle exactly how obstructive he could be, but
a particularly piercing look from his uncle stilled the notion. "I am
escorting Harris's sister and grandmother. And because I had planned to look at
some horses near Melton Mowbray, we were going to leave this afternoon. Considering
what
's
happening here, I'll wait a
few days."

"Would
you have any objections to adhering to the original plan?"

"None,
if you would like, but what about the body?"

A
faint smile curved the duke's mouth. "You'd already planned on my
disposing of that for you, so there's no reason not to join Harris. I would
prefer it, as a matter of fact. I think it best you leave London for awhile.
Last night didn't change
things,
it only confirmed
what we suspected. You're still visiting here for the purpose of buying horses,
and you'll continue to act as if nothing has happened. Have Pierre pack your
things, but don't bother straightening up this chaos. I'll have someone take
care of everything."

A
twisted grin on his lips, Jason said, "You know, you're making me feel like
a ninny. I've ordered my own affairs for a number of years, and I don't
appreciate being wrapped in cotton wool."

A
sympathetic twinkle in his gray eyes, Roxbury murmured, "I know I'm
treating you as if you're still under my protection and attending Harrow, but
forgive me. Old habits die hard, and at this point you can do me more good by
going to Brownleigh's and allowing yourself to be enamored of the beautiful
widow than remaining in London. Have no fear. If I need you, I shall be in
touch."

Jason
was inclined to argue the point, but common sense pointed out the justice of
the duke's words. So, moments after Roxbury had departed, Pierre was busily
employed packing his master's valises, while Jason, filled with a reckless
energy, paced through the rooms, wishing briefly he had never agreed to
Jefferson's request.

But then, he reflected
fairly, beyond the meetings with the American minister and the few disturbances
he'd had .recently, it really hadn't cost anything to deliver those dispatches.
He wasn't overjoyed with the implications of last night's events, but admitted
honestly that it certainly livened up what could have become a dull trip. The
prospect of crossing verbal swords with Clive Pendleton added spice to what
already planned to be an enjoyable stay in the country!

Jason adhered to the
original plan and drove his curricle down to Melton Mowbray, following
sedately behind Augusta's lumbering old traveling coach. Amanda had taken one
look at Jason's smartly turned-out curricle pulled by two very high-spirited
chestnuts and had instantly pleaded to ride with him. Augusta had shot her a
thoughtful glance but had given in. Consequently Amanda, her brown eyes
sparkling with pleasure, had enjoyed the pale March sunshine and. the smooth
ride given by a really well-sprung vehicle.

Due
to their late start and the pace set by Augusta's traveling coach, they had to
spend one night on the road
,,
and it was late the next
evening before they finally arrived at Brownleigh's home. A noisy party was
already under way, and Augusta, tired and inclined towards snappish- ness, had
insisted that she and Amanda be shown to their beds at once!

With
Amanda and her grandmother safely delivered, Jason sought out his host, a
jovial, rotund little man, and inquired after Barrymore and Harris. Somewhat
apologetically he was informed that Barrymore, Harris, and some of the younger
gentlemen were dining at the home of the local squire. Hiding his
disappointment at the news, Jason chatted idly while taking note of his fellow
guests. He was quick to spot Clive Pendleton and Elizabeth Markham, but
although Elizabeth tried several times to catch his eye, at the moment Jason
was not in the mood for dalliance, and so her attempts were met with a bland,
unrevealing smile. Eventually taking his leave from his host, Jason promised to
return on the morrow for the fox hunt that was planned.

His quarters at the inn
known as The Fox were a pleasant surprise, for nearly the entire second floor
had been set aside for his use. He had obviously been given the best suite of
rooms that the inn had to offer—two large bedrooms with their own dressing
chambers, private sitting room and dining room as well as servants' quarters
just down the hall. He had no use for the second bedroom, but it came with the
suite, and Jason was thoroughly satisfied with the arrangements.

Slowly sipping a goblet of
wine, he wandered through the rooms, animallike, acquainting himself with all
the exits and entrances. Loosening his cravat, he sauntered into the second
bedroom. Idly he flipped open the door of a cherrywood wardrobe, and staring at
its gaping emptiness imagined it filled with laces, muslins, and bits of silk
so necessary to the feminine sex. And he was startled when the faintly blurred
memory of the girl in the library flashed in his mind. Damn! He wished he could
remember what she really looked like. Too bad she hadn't been a serving girl—he
might have tried his luck with her.

Then hearing Pierre moving
about in the next room, he walked to the door and entered his own bedchamber,
Pierre was putting away the last articles of clothing. Throwing down his crumpled
cravat, Jason remarked, "I hope the landlord's lady is a good washerwoman.
I won't put up with dingy linen."

An affronted look on his
face, his button black eyes flashing, Pierre answered stiffly, "As if I
would entrust your linen to these provincials!"

Jason, hiding a smile,
refilled his goblet from the wine decanter on the highly polished table near
& rough stone fireplace. Having braved the Atlantic Ocean to set foot in
the old world, Pierre—who had rarely ventured farther than New Orleans—now
felt
himself
to be a traveler of the world.

Years ago, Jason had been
against his grandfather's desire that he hire a valet; but Monsieur Beauvais
had insisted, and to keep peace, he had hired the monkey- faced Pierre.
However, in spite of Pierre's determination to trick him out in the latest
fashion, they managed to rub along together tolerably well. The only time they
had fallen foul had been the time Pierre hadn't been able to resist the impulse
to order a pair of lilac pantaloons for his master.

Jason
had taken one look at the offending garment, and his shout of laughter had
resounded through the hall. Greatly amused and doing little to hide it, he had
thrown the garment at his startled valet and had said in no uncertain terms
that he'd put up with a great deal from him but he'd be damned if he'd be seen
in that bilious color. What pangs Pierre suffered, no one knew, and Pierre
never said. Thereafter he contented himself with becoming a necessary adjunct
to young Savage's comfort and now, except for Jason's mysterious journeys into
the wilds of New Spain, traveled everywhere with him.

Not
even Pierre, though, could fault Jason's dress as he left the inn the next
morning. A well-cut jacket of bottle-green wool fit his arms and shoulders
superbly; buff-colored breeches revealed the hard strength in
his
long legs, while shining black boots displayed Pierre's skill in keeping
Jason's footwear in meticulous order. He carried a small black riding whip,
more for looks than usefulness, and seated astride his newest acquisition, a
splendid black hunter, he created a stir among the female contingent when his
horse cantered up to join the laughing, expectant group gathered on the broad
sweeping drive before Brownleigh's home. Elizabeth Markham particularly was
unable to keep from shooting little side-glances in
his
direction.

It
was a fine morning for the hunt; the air was clean and crisp, with small
patches of fog floating ghostlike over the rolling hills and little valleys.
The horses were restless as they started
off,
their
breath clearly seen in the frosty air, and the hounds gave a series of sharp,
excited barks that carried over the still countryside.

Jason
looked forward to the morning. It was a chance to do some real riding, and
there was the possibility for another meeting with the charming widow.

Elizabeth's
glances hadn't gone unnoticed, and Jason made some attempt to reach her side
before the hounds found the scent and the real chase began. But the pack struck
a trail almost immediately, and the whole group, as a body, went thundering
after the baying dogs, and Jason lost sight of Elizabeth. It wasn't until some
time later that she appeared suddenly, out of nowhere, close to his side,
throwing him a challenging look as she raced by on her neat gray mare.

An
intrepid rider himself, he admired her skill in the
saddle as she took a stone
wall most riders would have avoided. He avoided it himself, not from a lack of
courage but from a desire to spare his horse. The black had knocked a foreleg
going over a wooden fence some miles back. A gate lay open nearby, and there
was no need to push his horse unnecessarily. Even so, it wasn't much longer
before there was a decided limp to his mount's gait.

Breaking from the group,
Jason urged his horse over to a lane that led back to the inn. He hadn't
traveled far when he heard the unmistakable sounds of another rider behind him,
and it was with no surprise that he turned and discovered Elizabeth not far
behind.

Wearing a green velvet
riding habit cut in the military style, an absurd little hat perched on her
glossy
curls,
she smiled pleasantly and reined her
horse to fail into step with his. "It's a shame your horse has lamed
himself. You'll miss the kill," she remarked.

Returning her smile, he
replied, "There will be other days, and I'm afraid I haven't the
Englishman's love of watching a pack of hounds rip a fox to pieces."

"Oh, come now. Don't
tell me you're one of
those
milk and water people who
shudder at the sight of a little blood," she said scornfully.

His eyebrow rose at her
comment, but he merely nodded politely, saying in a mild tone, "As you
say, madame."

Disconcerted at his brief
answer, she said prettily. "Forgive me. That wasn't polite. My mother is
forever telling me I'm too forward, even for a widow. I must learn to mind my
tongue."

"Just as you say,
madame," was the unencouraging response.

A pout on her full red
lips, she snapped, "I wish you'd say something more interesting than 'As
you
say,
madame'!"

He slanted an appraising
glance that took- in her full breasts, slim waist, and rounded hips. Slowly,
deliberately undressing her with his eyes, he admired the blush that was
beginning to mount on her angry face for the work of art it was. Then meeting
her indignant look, he held her gaze and asked, "What would you like me to
say? You followed me, and you started this conversation."

Uncertain how to cope with
his mood, she answered stiffly, "I see you obviously prefer your own
company. I'm sorry I intruded. Excuse me if I go back and join the
others." She started to turn her horse, but his lean, brown hand quickly
reached over and took the reins. The next moment she was roughly dragged from
the saddle, crushed against his chest, and ruthlessly kissed. His mouth was
warm on hers, and sheer surprise kept her still as he deepened the kiss, while
his hand sought the softness of her breast. Elizabeth was achingly aware of the
hard male body that held her close, and it was only the fact that they were in
the middle of a country lane that caused her to struggle halfheartedly away
from him.

Jason ignored her struggles
and murmured against her lips, "Gently, gently,
sweet
.
I know this isn't the place, but you're such a tempting armful." He bent
his dark head and nibbled one little ear. "I want more than a stolen kiss
on a country lane. When and where can we be private again?"

Furious with him for taking
such blatant advantage and furious with herself for the flood of longing that
shook her, she opened her mouth to say something particularly scathing, but he
placed a finger against her lips and shook his head. "If you say it, I'll
put you down and ride on. You can join your friends, and anything between us
will end here and now. We're not in London this time."

Elizabeth stared at him.
Remembering the feel of his hard body against hers in the library in London and
knowing she wanted this man like no other, she said meekly, "The landlord
at The Fox—I am told he is very discreet." At her words Jason flashed
her a
smile and without another word swung her effortlessly
back on her horse, and together they rode to the inn.

Jason's sitting room was
pleasantly decorated with thick mustard-colored carpets, pale yellow curtains
at the two windows, and two red leather chairs that were drawn up before a
cheerful fire. A Queen Anne table stood at one side of the fireplace and a blue
mohair couch under one of the windows. But too aware of the dark, hard- faced
man at her side, Elizabeth didn't spare as much as a glance around the room
when she seated herself gingerly on the blue couch. Pouring out some mulled
wine, which was waiting conveniently on the fire, he silently offered a cup of
the warm brew with a smile so slow and
intimate
that
it caused her pulse to race with anticipation.

There was no sound in the
room but the crackle of the lire. Jason sat lazily in one of the leather
chairs, his lean legs stretched towards the fire. As she watched him, the
silence began to tear on Elizabeth's nerves.

Glancing at her, Jason
smiled to himself. Women! Why did they have to be wooed all the way to the bed?
Suddenly impatient with games, he set his wine down and rose in one silent
motion. Crossing the room and standing before her, he removed the glass from
her nerveless fingers and drew her slowly into his arms. Smiling languorously,
the deep dimple in his left cheek appearing, his eyes were openingly caressing
as they moved over her body. Then his mouth covered hers m a long, demanding
kiss, and with a sigh of satisfaction, she strained against him—on fire for
what was inevitable.

He wanted her, and she
could feel his hardness as he molded his body next to hers, his hands now openly
searching her body; and she sensed his rising passion as he gently pushed her
onto the couch. Somehow, her jacket had been discarded, and her blouse opened
to bare her nipples to his touch. As he continued to explore her eager body,
his demanding hands urgently pushed up her skirt, and she arched her body up to
his, moaning with pleasure at his touch. Swiftly, he covered her body with Ms,
entering her with such violence that she gave a gasp of surprise. But then,
caught up in her own desire, she met each hard thrust of his lean body as he
took her up and over the edge of completeness with an expertise that left her
weak and satiated.

There was
a stillness
in the room afterwards, until Jason broke it by
sitting up and grinning down into her face. His voice was mocking as he said,
"Wasn't that more exciting than watching a pack of hounds destroy one
small fox?"

Later, he ruefully admitted
to himself that he
had
been a crude barbarian and probably all the
other names Elizabeth had hurled angrily at his head. But his teasing had
accomplished two things for which he was grateful. It had stilled instantly any
questions that she might have put forth in probing for information, and it had
caused her to leave his rooms rather precipitously. Furious that he should
treat their lovemaking so lightly, she had sprung up, barely straightened her
clothing, and swept from the room. Jason, watching her movements, had been
almost unable to control the laughter that bubbled in his throat.