Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (21 page)

Luc pulled her head back against his shoulder. “Because I give you my word, that’s why.”

“Humph.”
Tinker looked as suspicious as ever. Silver murmured something that sounded like “how very unfortunate.”

“She needs to rest,” Luc said tersely. “And as soon as she’s settled, I intend to go see if any more of those blackguards are hanging about.”

“How do we know you’re not one of
them?”
Tinker continued stubbornly. “Came at just the right time, after all. Too blasted right, if you ask me.”

“Are
you one of them?” Silver asked interestedly.

“Hellion,” was Luc’s lazy reply.

“Can’t be.” Bram was eyeing them all with unholy glee. “Doesn’t make half a bit of sense. The man would hardly hurt
himself.”

“Hurt?” Tinker’s brow furrowed.

“Hurt?”
Silver’s head shot up. “What didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m
not
hurt, that’s why,” Luc said curtly. His shoulder
was
aching, of course, but not seriously. Thankfully, Jonas had bound it well. In fact, Luc decided he could carry this woman all night and never feel a bit of pain.

Other than the sweet, hot ache that was pooling through his thighs, of course. That sort of pain he was finding damned addictive, in fact.

Bram shook his head, ever the observant scientist. “Then why do you wince whenever her head scrapes your shoulder?”

“Just an old scratch.”

“Put me down!” Silver said breathlessly, struggling against Luc’s hard fingers. Her eyes closed for a second. “You shouldn’t — you mustn’t—”

“In my opinion my sister’s not feeling so well either,” Bram offered.

“What?”
Tinker snapped to attention.

“It’s nothing. Just a — a headache.” Silver winced as Luc carefully explored her ribs. “And of course a bit of a bump at my side where that snake hit me with his stick.”

“Stick!”
Luc and Tinker roared the word in one breath.

“Told you,” Bram said sagely. He was seated on an empty crate enjoying the hubbub vastly.

“Give her here,” Tinker snapped.

“The devil I will.” Luc’s mouth was set in a mulish line.

Bram decided it was time to take matters in hand. “Oh, give over, you two. Put her on the settee and she’ll be fine. But those men over there are going to be coming awake soon.”

Grimly, Luc settled Silver on a faded chintz-covered settee. As he did so his arm brushed her fingers.

Silver frowned down at the blood dotting her hand. “You really are hurt! Tinker, fetch me some rosemary water. Bram, I’ll need some lavender oil and clean gauze.”

But Luc had already pulled away and was busy securing the first intruder with a stout rope. “That will have to wait. First I mean to see these brutes put somewhere safe.” His hands moved with swift efficiency, as if he’d done this sort of thing often. “After that I’ve got a few questions I mean to ask them,” he added darkly.

“You do, do you? And just what business is it of yours?” Tinker demanded.

Luc stared at the welt on Silver’s forehead. “The day they did
that,
it became my business.”

After a long silence Tinker nodded. “Happen I’ll come along with you. Got a few questions of my
own
to ask.” A look passed between the two men, sharp and hard.

“Might be messy.” Luc’s eyes were measuring.

“Never minded a little bit of unpleasantness.”

“Nor do I,” Bram said excitedly, jumping to his feet. “When do we leave?”

“We
don’t leave, young man.” Seeing the boy’s face turn mutinous, Luc softened the order. “You are needed here to protect things and keep an eye on your sister.”

After a long look at Luc’s unyielding amber eyes, Bram finally relented. “You’ll have all the fun!”

Silver sat up on the settee, her face pale but resolute. “No, Tinker. I won’t have it, do you hear? He’s hurt. Besides, it’s not his affair.”

“It is if he chooses to make it his affair.” A faint smile lurked at Tinker’s lips. “Best be at it, then.” He began to tug their unconscious intruder toward the door.

“I’ll take care of the two outside,” Luc said grimly.

“No! You’re hurt, you great bacon-brained lout. And I don’t recall asking for your help. Just — oh, just go away!”

Luc gave Silver a look that was part silk, part promise. Then he disappeared into the night, captive in tow.

“Bottle
that
look and we’d make a fortune,” Bram said thoughtfully.

“What
look?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m just a boy, after all. Don’t know a whit about such things.”

Silver studied the darkness where the highwayman and Tinker had disappeared. “Men,” she said crossly. “Five minutes of talk and now you’re all thick as thieves.”

Behind her Cromwell thumped his tail.

“Et tu, Brute?”
Silver muttered.

Bram tried to hide a grin.

“Not a word, do you understand?”

The boy merely spread his hands, smiling hugely. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Syl.”

~ ~ ~

“And now I’m thinking I’d like to know your intentions.”

Luc and Tinker moved up the hill, hefting their bound captives. Between them, rows of lavender gleamed ice-like in the moonlight. Luc maneuvered his unconscious burden past two shrubs and a hedge of roses, then stopped to catch a breath. “You know, for an
old
man you do remarkably well.”

“Ain’t half old yet. Just you remember that, cutthroat.” But there was an unmistakable gleam in Tinker’s eye. “Nor don’t you go trying to make me forget my question neither.”

Luc flexed his back, then gingerly did the same to his shoulder.

It hurt. No, it hurt like hell. But nothing that was serious. He knew
serious
when he felt it. Frowning, he studied the neat rows of lavender flanked by honeysuckle and white alba roses. “Nice acreage. Why would someone want to drive you away?”

“Any number of reasons, I expect. Our seeds, for one. They’re damned valuable now. Hardy, rot resistant and high producing. Aye, Bram’s been doing tests for two years now, and that boy’s a genius with plants.” Tinker looked at the highwayman. “And you
still
ain’t answered my question.”

“No, I haven’t, have I?” Luc gave him a slight smile. “Any other reasons you can think of?”

“Could be for the formula.”

“Formula?”

“For the perfume William St. Clair produced. Seemed like he blended a thousand flowers to make it. One of a kind, it was, with some peculiar sort of base that St. Clair never discussed with no one. No wonder, neither, because that perfume made him a rich man. Queen wore nothing else. Half the women in London wore it.”

“And he died without telling the secret to his own children?”

The old servant shrugged. “He was a suspicious sort when it came to his fragrances. Didn’t let no one into his workroom when he was making the final blend. When he died it was lost, all of it. Never found a trace.” Tinker hesitated.

“Go on.”

“Downy one, ain’t you?” Tinker laughed softly. “Not like him to lose nothing neither. The man was special careful about his business. I figured it to turn up sometime, but it never has.”

Luc frowned. “If it did, would you recognize it?”

“Not me. Young Master Bram would though. Got the nose, he has.”

“Nose? I don’t understand.”

“Skill at scents. Give the boy anything and he can tell you exactly what’s in it, from just one sniff. Aye, a rare sort of skill. Just like his father had before him.”

Luc frowned. “Why didn’t the boy just copy it?”

“Happen we tried. Did nothing else for a year. Got most of the ingredients but not the relative amounts. And one important thing was missing, some sort of element that St. Clair had discovered to make the scent last.” Tinker shook his head. “No matter what we tried, it just wasn’t the same.”

“I see. Is there anything else someone might want here?”

Tinker shrugged. “Land mebbe. Came down to Miss Silver after her father’s death. She’s to maintain the business until the boy’s of age and then it will be his. Odd sort of a will, as I recall.” Tinker’s eyes narrowed. “Said Miss Silver had to live on this land to keep it.”

“Very interesting.”

“Ain’t it just?”

“Anyone who might be angry about how things were settled after the father’s death? A cousin? Perhaps some unhappy creditors?”

Tinker sniffed. “No other relatives. Only that whey-faced Millbank and
he
don’t count.”

“Do you think he’s behind this?”

Tinker scratched his jaw. “The man’s a braying ass if ever I saw one, but if you’re asking me would he sanction murder, then I can’t rightly say I believe it.”

“Maybe we should try a few questions.” Luc stared down at the man before him, a hard look in his eyes.

“Fine by me. Do we break his arm or just snap a finger or two?” Tinker looked as if he’d relish the task.