Desire (Notorious 3)

&nbs

p; “Aye, milord, of course!”

At his eagerness, Lucian flashed a charming half smile. “You might also be interested to know a reward is being offered for the capture of this Lord Caliban. Two hundred pounds.”

Shanks’s mouth gaped open. It was still set that way when Lucian left the cell, followed closely by Philip Barton with the lantern.

Neither of them spoke until they were seated in Philip’s closed carriage and headed toward the inn where they both were staying.

“You think it wise to let him go?” the younger man asked.

“Wiser than frightening him out of his skin,” Lucian replied mildly. “Or beating him to confess knowledge he doesn’t have. Greed can sometimes prove a better method than pain.”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Philip said stiffly.

“That was not a criticism, my friend. You did an excellent job simply finding Shanks. Because of you, we are one step closer to unearthing our traitor. But Shanks can be more useful to us alive than dead. And this way, if he hears even a whisper about our chief nemesis, I expect he will jump at the chance to tell us.”

“You’re certain Caliban is the traitor you are looking for?”

“I’m certain of it,” Lucian said grimly.

He had a large score to settle with his elusive enemy. Murder, theft, treason only headed the list of crimes. Even more personally galling was Caliban’s practice of luring young bucks of the ton into betraying their country. Lucian’s grimmest task had been to kill one of his boyhood friends who had turned traitor at Caliban’s behest. The memory still haunted him.

“He must have an accomplice within the Foreign Office,” Philip muttered. “How else would he know when to intercept the courier?” He clenched his fists. “It rankles to know a traitor is directly under our noses and we cannot do a bloody thing to stop him.”

“Indeed,” Lucian agreed succinctly, feeling but not visibly displaying the same corrosive self-torment that was eating his subordinate inside.

Philip turned his troubled gaze to Lucian. “My lord, I would not blame you in the least if you were to dismiss me. I should have thought of changing the transport schedule. If I had, then the last shipment of gold would still be safe, the guards still alive.”

Lucian shook his head. Philip Barton was one of his brightest agents, but even the brightest made mistakes. And the young man was not entirely to blame. Lucian was suffering his own harsh brand of guilt, his own private anguish. Had he been in London instead of dallying in Cornwall, courting his bride, he could have acted when the courier’s murder was first discovered. In all likelihood he could have prevented the gold theft and the deaths of half a dozen more innocent men, a lapse in judgment he would forever have to live with.

Whether or not the shipment had been smuggled to France yet was anyone’s guess, for the trail had gone stone cold. Lucian had immediately sent men to Cornwall to scour the coast in the event that Sir Grayson Caldwell was involved, but he doubted Cornwall was the transfer point this time. The gold was likely in France by now, bankrolling Napoleon’s armies instead of those of the Triple Alliance-Austria, Prussia, and Russia.

Lucian was seething with helpless fury inside, his gut and heart both aching with dismay. But long practice at concealing his feelings behind a sophisticated mask allowed him to answer evenly. “If I dismissed you, Philip, then I would have to dismiss myself. I was off attending to my own personal affairs, I recall.”

“It is not the same thing, my lord. Your wedding nuptials should come before duty.”

“No.” His resolve hardened. “Nothing should come before duty.”

Lucian turned his head to gaze out the carriage window. Lusting after a woman, even his own wife, was no excuse for forsaking his grave obligations. A few vital infusions of gold into Napoleon’s military machine could prove pivotal in the outcome of the war-the difference between a Europe subjugated under a tyrant’s boot heel and the allies finally being able to crush him once and for all.

Winning the war, putting an end to the death and destruction and devastating misery the Corsican monster had caused, was far more crucial than any one man’s personal considerations, Lucian reflected darkly. He might have regretted having to leave his marriage bed-virtually being dragged away on his wedding night-but his own private desires could not be allowed to matter.

And in truth, he’d been glad for the opportunity to gain some distance from his new bride. It unsettled him, how enamored he’d become with Brynn in such a short time. He didn’t believe in such things as curses, but admittedly he found it hard to explain the driving urgency he’d felt to possess her, the stunning satisfaction of making love to her… his dark dreams.

He’d sent his secretary to make his farewells that night, rationalizing that had he gone to Brynn himself, he would have had to offer some explanation as to his purpose. He had no intention of disclosing his investigation of the gold thefts when her brother might very well be up to his neck in treason.

But the real reason he’d sailed away without a word, Lucian acknowledged grimly, was because of fear: if he went to her, if he touched her again, he might not be able to leave her at all. Away from her, he could try to forget her vibrant beauty, her defiant, intriguing spirit… the dark images that filled his mind.

Or so he’d mistakenly hoped.

Since he’d wed her, Brynn had obsessed his thoughts. Obsessed even his sleep. His dreams were filled with her now. Never before had he dreamed about any specific woman, but since making love to Brynn, he couldn’t stop seeing her whenever he closed his eyes.

Lucian cursed silently. This was not the sort of marriage he’d planned-becoming foolishly enchanted with his beautiful wife. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t indulge his growing obsession for her.

Brynn was no doubt offended that he’d abandoned her so abruptly after compelling her to wed him. But he couldn’t worry about placating her wounded sensibilities. Not when so many men had died as a result of his negligence.

His jaw hardened with determination. For the moment he had to put his country before his marriage and focus every ounce of his attention on his duty.