Castles (32 page)

“So we will know, in one month's time, if General Ivan was behind the purchase,” Alesandra said.

Colin shook his head. “It will only pay if you die, remember? And since you're going to stay fit, the general won't have anything to collect. He'll have no reason to come to England.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. Matthew? Did the son live or die?” she asked, her mind still centered on the story about the Marquess of Covingham.

“He lived.”

“Who took the contract out?”

“To this day no one knows,” he answered. “Princess, I'm pleased to see you're taking this news calmly,” he added.

Colin almost smiled. Alesandra really was very good at hiding her reactions. He could feel her trembling in his arms, but the expression on her face never faltered. She looked quite serene.

He knew better. “She has no reason to worry,” he said. “She knows I'll protect her. Matthew, I want you to continue to try to find out who is behind this,” he ordered then. “We can assume it's the general, but I want actual proof.”

“Yes, of course. I won't give up.”

“I wonder if everyone in London knows about this contract yet,” Alesandra said. “If so, someone might have heard of a boast . . .”

“If a boast's been made, I'll hear about it,” Dreyson assured her. “I wouldn't hold out hope that it's getting much notice, however, what with the fresh scandal making the rounds.”

“What scandal?” Alesandra asked, her curiosity pricked.

“Why the Viscount of Talbolt's trouble, of course. His wife has caused the scandal. She left her husband. Astonishing, isn't it?”

Colin had never heard of anything so preposterous. Husbands and wives stayed together no matter how difficult the marriage became. “There has to be another explanation,” he said.

“Do you know the viscount?” Alesandra asked her husband.

“Yes. He went to Oxford with my brother. He's a good man. Lady Roberta probably just went back to their country estate for a few days. The
ton
is always looking for reasons to gossip.”

Dreyson nodded his agreement. “I heard the rumor from Lord Thorton and I'll be the first to admit he's one to gossip. Still, the facts tell. Lady Roberta seems to have vanished into thin air. The viscount is beside himself with worry.”

A shiver rushed down Alesandra's arms. “Vanished?” she whispered.

“She'll turn up,” Dreyson rushed out as soon as he saw how worried the princess was becoming. “I'll wager they had a little marital spat and she's punishing him. She'll come out of hiding in a day or two.”

The broker stood up. Colin walked by his side to the foyer. Alesandra stopped the two of them when she called out, “Matthew, no matter how outrageous the contract, if the sum is high enough Morton and Sons will agree?”

“Yes, Princess.”

Alesandra smiled at Colin. “Husband, I would like for you to prove to me you mean to protect me.”

His wife dared to keep right on smiling at him after she'd given him that insult. He knew she was up to something but he didn't have the faintest notion what it was.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

She walked over to Colin's side. “Take a contract out on me, naming yourself as beneficiary, for the exact sum and the exact time limit.”

Colin was already shaking his head before she'd finished her request.

“It's a clever plan,” she argued. “Do quit shaking your head at me.”

“And will the policy pay if you live or die, Alesandra?”

She gave him a disgruntled look. “If I live, of course.”

She turned her attention to Dreyson. “I know you dislike doing business with Morton and Sons, but couldn't you see to this little transaction?”

“I haven't agreed to this—”

“Please, Matthew,” she interrupted, ignoring her husband's protest.

“Then you want his name on the voucher for everyone to read?” Dreyson asked.

“Yes, of course,” she answered.

“You'll have to pay a high premium, and I'm not at all certain there's an underwriter willing to sign his initials alongside yours,” he told Colin.

“You told me once that Lloyd's of London would insure a sinking ship if the price was high enough,” Alesandra reminded the broker. “I'm certain Morton and Sons, with its tainted reputation for common wagering, would leap at the chance to make a profit.”

“Perhaps . . . if you were married to anyone but Sir Hallbrook, that would be true. However, your husband's reputation will defeat your plan, Princess. No one's going to wager against him.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

Dreyson smiled. “Your husband has become a legend of sorts. He's feared in most circles. His work, you see, for the War Department—”

“That's enough, Dreyson,” Colin interrupted. “You're worrying my wife.”

The agent immediately apologized. “Do I try to find someone to underwrite the voucher, Sir Hallbrook?”

“Call it what it is,” Colin said. “A wager.”

“If you have any doubts about your ability to keep me safe, then I would of course understand your reluctance to put your hard-earned money—”

“You know damned good and well I'm going to protect you,” he snapped. “Honest to God, Alesandra, most women would be weeping with fear after finding out someone has taken a contract out on them, but you . . .”

“Yes?”

He shook his head. He finally accepted defeat, though not at all gracefully. “Do it then,” he grumbled. “If my wife wants everyone in London to know there are two vouchers in effect, we'll let her have her way.”

Alesandra smiled. “Do you know, Colin, you're actually wagering on your own ability. It's quite sporting, really,” she added. “And in my opinion, a certain profit for you. You really shouldn't act so surly about this. I have ultimate faith in you. I therefore see no reason to fret.”

Alesandra didn't wait to hear what Colin had to say about her opinions. She bid the agent good-bye and then went upstairs.

Flannaghan appeared out of the shadows. He let Dreyson out the front door and then hurried over to his employer.

“She isn't at all worried, is she, milord?”

“How much did you overhear?”

“All of it.”

Colin shook his head. “Your uncle would be pleased. You're picking up all of his unsavory habits.”

“Thank you, milord. Your princess's loyalty must please you.”

Colin smiled. He didn't answer his servant but went up the stairs to his study. Flannaghan's words echoed in his mind.

My princess, he thought to himself. Yes, she was his princess now, and, oh, how she pleased him.

H
e infuriated her. They had their first argument late that night. Alesandra had already gone to bed, but she couldn't sleep, so she worked on the list of duties she wanted to accomplish the following day. She was in her own bedroom, of course, because that was where Flannaghan had told her Colin wanted her to sleep, and she was desperately trying not to become upset with her husband because he happened to be such an unfeeling clout. He couldn't help the way he was, could he? Their marriage wasn't a love match either, and if Colin wanted to sleep apart from her, she shouldn't take exception. She did, though. She felt vulnerable—frightened, too—and she couldn't understand why she would be plagued by either emotion.

She tried to understand what was happening to her. She decided she was feeling so insecure because Colin had put her in a much weaker bargaining position. Then she shook her head over that fanciful thought. What did she have to bargain? Her husband had rejected everything she had to give.

Heaven help her, she was beginning to feel sorry for herself. Mother Superior, in one of her daily lectures, had told her that men and women often wanted things they could never have. Envy, she explained, soon turned into jealousy, and once the tentacles of that sinful emotion had taken hold, misery soon followed. Jealousy burned, consumed, until there wasn't room for joy or love or happiness of any sort.

“But I'm not jealous,” she whispered to herself. She was envious, though, and let out a little worried sigh over that admission. She was already envious of Colin's brother's happy marriage, and, Lord, did that mean she would soon turn into a jealous shrew and be miserable for the rest of her days?

Marriage, she decided, was a complicated business.

Colin didn't have time for it. He had disappeared into his study directly after dinner to work on his accounts. Having a wife wasn't going to change his habits. He was building an empire, and no one, especially an unwanted bride, was going to interfere with his plans. Colin hadn't had to sit her down and explain his views to her. His actions spoke for him.

Alesandra wasn't upset by his attitude. In truth, she approved of his dedication. She didn't have any doubts, either. Colin would achieve any goal he set. He was strong, terribly clever, and wonderfully disciplined.

She didn't have any intention of getting in his way. She wouldn't distract him, either. The last thing Colin needed was a clinging wife. Still . . . at night, when the work was done, she wished he wanted to be with her then. It would be nice to fall asleep in his arms, to feel him pressed against her during the dark hours of the night. She liked the way he touched her, kissed her . . .

She let out a groan. She was never going to be able to concentrate on her lists if she didn't quit daydreaming about her husband. She shook herself out of her daze and forced herself back to work.

It was almost midnight when Colin walked into her room through the connecting doorway to his own chamber. He wore only a pair of black pants, but he had those stripped off before he reached the side of the bed.

He was very casual about his nudity. She tried to be casual about it, too. “Have you finished working on your accounts?”

She asked the bed that question. Color flooded her face and her voice sounded as though she were being strangled.

Colin grinned. “Yes,” he answered. “I'm completely caught up now.”

“Caught up on what?”

He tried not to laugh. “Alesandra, there isn't anything to be embarrassed about.”

“I'm not embarrassed.”

She was actually able to look directly into his eyes when she told that blatant lie. Colin thought it was an improvement. He pulled the covers back and got into bed. She hurried to move her papers out of his way.

He propped his back against the headboard and let out a loud sigh. He was deliberately giving her time to calm down. If she turned any redder, he thought she might ignite. Her hands shook when she reached for her papers. He didn't understand why she was acting so nervous with him, but he decided he'd have to wait to ask her. Questions now would only make her condition worse.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Perhaps I am a little cold. My hair was still damp after my bath and I didn't take time to dry it.”

He reached over and cupped the back of her neck with his hand. He could feel the tension and began to massage the knots away. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“My list of duties for everyone. I made a list for Flannaghan, another one for Cook, one each for Raymond and Stefan, and several lists for myself. Oh, and the master list, of course. I just finished that one.”

She made the mistake of turning to look at him. Her train of thought went flying out the window then. She couldn't even remember if she'd finished her explanation or not.

It was all his doing. If he hadn't had such beautiful eyes, and if he hadn't had such a wonderful smile, and if his teeth hadn't been as white as God's surely were, she wouldn't have taken the time to notice and forget every other thought. Closing her eyes wouldn't help. She would still be able to feel the heat from his body, still inhale his clean male scent, still . . .

“What is a master list?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He grinned. “A master list,” he repeated.

He knew she was rattled. He was enjoying her discomfort, too, if his smile was any indication. That realization helped her regain a little of her composure.

“It's a list of my lists,” she explained.

“You made a list of your lists?”

“Yes, of course.”

He burst into laughter. The bed shook with the force of his amusement. She took immediate exception to his attitude. “Colin, lists are the keys to true organization.”