"You misjudged me when we played cards."

His smile disappeared. "He can't be that good at hiding the sort of man he is."

"Did you know he beat his wife?"

He shook his head. "No, but he hates to lose. He especially hates to lose to me. He shall come here to reclaim his wife. I have no doubt."

"What will you do when he arrives?"

"I'm not going to kill him if that's what's you're wondering." He took her hand, kissed it, then began stroking his thumb over the scar on her palm. "It's not an easy thing to live with the death of a man on your conscience, even when you know he deserved it. You see his face when you close your eyes to sleep-and there are times you won't sleep because you don't want to see his face."

"Then how shall you ensure that he'll leave Winnie in peace?"

"By making certain he understands that she is under my protection, and if he ever touches her again, I will kill him. Without remorse. Without regret. Without mercy."

A shiver raced up her spine, caused her scalp to p.r.i.c.kle. She nodded.

"He's a bully," he said quietly. "It usually takes only standing up to him to make him back down."

With her free hand, she skimmed his hair off his brow. "But what if he threatens you?"

He pressed a kiss to her palm. "I have my guardian angel."

The library door opened, and the butler walked in. "My lord, the Duke of Avendale has come to call."

"You see," Claybourne said, grinning at Catherine. "Civilized." He looked at his servant. "I'll see him. And under no circ.u.mstances are we to be disturbed. I don't care what you hear or think you hear happening inside this room. As a matter of fact, once you've delivered him here, dismiss the remaining servants for the evening."

"Yes, my lord."

Claybourne released her, walked to his desk, leaned against it, crossed his arms over his chest, and met Catherine's gaze. "I don't suppose you'd leave while he and I discuss-"

"I'll not leave you to face him alone."

"Don't interfere."

She opened her mouth to speak- "I mean it, Catherine. This is going to be like a very complicated game of cards, and I intend to do a great deal of bluffing."

She nodded, heard the click of determined footsteps. Her stomach roiled. She walked so she was off to the side, near the shelves, far enough away not to be bothersome, but close enough to offer what support she could.

Avendale strode in, and once he was clear of the door, the butler closed it behind him. Catherine could sense the fury emanating off the duke in waves. She was also very much aware that Claybourne seemed completely unaffected.

An extraordinary number of lamps had been lit as though Claybourne wanted a clear view of his adversary, or perhaps he wanted Avendale to have a clear view of him. Unfortunately, they also gave Avendale a clear view of her.

He sneered at her. "I should have known you were at the heart of this travesty."

"You'll address me, not Lady Catherine," Claybourne said, his voice firm, his manner that of a man who knew no fear.

Avendale shifted his attention to Claybourne. "We're not among my peers where I must pretend politeness, so let me speak frankly. You're nothing. You're not the rightful earl, and I'll not recognize you as such. I am here for my wife and heir. You will bring them to me and you will bring them to me now."

"I have some questions I want answered first."

"I do not answer to you."

"Why were you having Lady Catherine followed?"

"Where is my wife?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."

Avendale looked at Catherine, not bothering to disguise his low opinion of her. She just didn't know if it was a recently acquired opinion. "She is a bad influence on my wife, and so I thought it worth keeping an eye on her."

"And the reason you tried to have me killed?"

"Because I don't like you, you insolent dog. You're a blight on the aristocracy. Now bring me my wife and son!"

"It's a bit difficult to do your bidding when they're not here."

"You're lying."

"I've not lied since I was fourteen. Search my residence, every room, every nook and cranny. You'll not find them here because they never left London."

"You think to keep them away from me?"

"If I must in order to protect them. You and I are going to come to an understanding-"

Avendale dropped his head back and yelled, his hands balled into fists. When he again looked at Claybourne, the fury he'd brought into the room with him was tenfold. "I'll not allow you to take anything else that rightfully belongs to another!"

He swung his fist one way, knocking a lamp onto the chair, swung it the other way, sending another lamp flying toward the draperies. Before anyone could react, he flung himself toward Claybourne.

The lamp on the desk hit the floor, shattering, spilling kerosene and fire. Catherine grabbed a cushion from a chair, made a move toward the flames in order to beat them out- Suddenly dark eyes, insane eyes, were in front of her. Without warning. She felt blinding pain shooting through her jaw into the back of her skull, more pain as her head collided with something. The floor she realized. She felt a jerk on her arm, heard a roar, and the hold on her arm was gone.

Forcing her eyes open, she could see Claybourne and Avendale crashing around the room, with flames dancing around them as though they were in some macabre form of h.e.l.l. Flames. Fire. She had to get up. She had to get help.

She struggled to her knees. The room spun around her. Crawling to the desk, she pulled herself up. How long had she been on the floor? She screamed for help, but already the flames were circling the room, blocking her way to the door, the windows. She considered trying to leap across them, but her skirts would surely catch on fire.

Reaching beneath her hem, intent on removing a petticoat so she'd have something to slap at the fire, she looked toward Claybourne. He had Avendale pinned to the floor. He punched him, once, twice- Avendale bucked, throwing Claybourne off. Something else shattered. Another lamp. Catherine pulled off her petticoat and began beating at the flames that were racing up the shelves devouring the books, the papers, the wooden shelves- Dear G.o.d, was there a worse room for a fire to be let loose? So many flames rose higher and higher. And they were hot, so hot. The gray, billowing smoke made it difficult to see. Her eyes stung. Her lungs hurt.

Hearing a grunt, she looked back over her shoulder. Avendale had Claybourne bent backward over the desk, pummeling him. Catherine picked up a nearby statuette. Coughing and gasping, she staggered over- Avendale turned away from Claybourne and with an unholy glow in his eyes, punched her again. Staggering backward, she landed once more on the floor. She'd forgotten how he relished striking women.

Growling, Claybourne flung himself at Avendale, knocking him down. Avendale's head hit the edge of a low table and he lay still, unmoving. Claybourne bent over him, pressed his ear to his chest. "He's alive."

"We've no way out, nowhere to hide," Catherine yelled.

It seemed only then that Claybourne realized the dangerous predicament they were in. "This way," Claybourne ordered. He pulled Avendale upright, folded him over his shoulder, and lifted him up as he rose to his feet. In long strides, he reached the fireplace.

"What in the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l do you think we're going to do?" Catherine yelled. "Climb up the chimney flue?"

"No. We're going to climb down. Grab a lamp."

She was surprised that a lamp still remained, but she spotted one on a small table in the corner. Grabbing it, she watched as he did something along the side of the fireplace-pushed something, pressed, pulled, she couldn't see clearly with all the smoke-and a grinding, groaning began to echo through the room as one of the great shelves shifted forward, creating a pa.s.sage behind the wall.

Something crashed. She felt as though her blood were beginning to boil.

"Come on. Quickly." He pressed his hand to the small of her back, urging her into the darkened pa.s.sage.

The lamp illuminated a set of stairs.

"Go down," he ordered.

"Where does this go?"

"I don't...I don't b.l.o.o.d.y well know. I just know it's safe. Go!"

She dashed down the stairs. It was cool here, the air while musty was easier to breathe. At the bottom she reached a tunnel.

"Keep going," he ordered.

She ducked cobwebs, thought she heard a rat squealing-but facing a rat was better than facing a fire. She came to a fork in the pa.s.sage, stumbled to a stop.

"Keep right," Claybourne said.

She glanced back at him. "Where does the other go?"

"Back into the house."

"I certainly don't want to go there."

She followed the fork as he'd indicated. After a while she began to hear the rush of the ocean and smell the salt air. She walked out into the darkness, onto the sh.o.r.e. Dark clouds moved across the moon, but still the light glowed off the nearby sea. Had the family made its original fortune as smugglers?

Claybourne dropped Avendale onto the sh.o.r.e, then staggered over to a boulder. He sat on it and stared at the waves rushing in to cover his boots before darting back to sea. A light rain continued to fall, but it was the least of their concerns. Catherine knelt before him, lifting the lamp so she could see his face. "Luke?"

"Catherine, how did I know? How did I know about the pa.s.sage?"

"I don't understand."

He shook his head. "I didn't know it existed. I didn't know it was there."

"How could you not know? Someone must have shown you."

"No, no one has ever shown me."

"The previous earl."

"No."

He sounded so certain, so sure.

"But you went right to it. You knew what you needed to do."

"Only after you said we had nowhere to hide. Until that moment"-he pressed the heels of his hands against his brow-"dear G.o.d, my head. I feel like it's trying to split in two."

Breathing heavily, he dropped his head back. "I'll have to worry about this later. Right now, we need to decide what to do with Avendale. And make sure the servants are safe."

He stood up, fell to his knees. She crouched beside him. "Luke, you're frightening me."

He lifted his gaze to hers, cradled her face with his palm. "My courageous girl." Leaning in, he kissed her.

When he drew back, she asked, "What are we going to do about Avendale?"

"Find a way to kill him-without either of us being sent to the gallows for doing it."

"If that was your intent, why not just leave him in the fire?"

"Because I want his death to serve a purpose. I need him alive for that to happen."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life." Suddenly she was in his arms, shivering and crying, feeling like such a ninny but they were alive, Claybourne was alive, and that was all that mattered.

19.

Using strips torn from Catherine's underskirt, Luke bound and gagged Avendale after taking great satisfaction in delivering a blow to the man's jaw when he'd begun to stir. Luke was not of a mind to be gentle or forgiving. It didn't help matters that his head had begun to pound mercilessly. He actually envied Avendale his unconscious state.

With great effort, he hoisted Avendale over his shoulder. With Catherine at his side, they began making their way back to the manor. No path marked the way, but the terrain wasn't too rugged. The rain, however, had increased in intensity, but Luke didn't mind. With any luck, it might reduce the fire's damage to the manor.

"If the house were still burning, don't you think we'd see fire in the distance?" Catherine asked.

"Yes. The servants and village's fire brigade no doubt got it under control."

"Your head's bothering you, isn't it?"

"I'll be all right."

"What are you going to do with Avendale tonight?"

"If the manor still stands, put him in the wine cellar. It has a door with a lock and a bar."

"And after that?"

"You and I will return to London. I'll come back for Avendale once I've made arrangements. Until then, my most trusted servants will keep him imprisoned and fed."