Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (34 page)

Alaina’s hands gripped the doorframe as she swayed. The years peeled away. She swallowed hard, then, in a barely audible squeak, she gasped, “Travis.” Then she closed her eyes.

Colt stepped back warily. Was this Dani’s aunt Alaina? His father had told him all about that treacherous woman. “I’m his son,” he said quietly. “Colt.”

Her eyes flashed open.

“I said,” Colt repeated, “I am Travis Coltrane’s son, and I am here to see my sister, Dani. Where is she?”

Alaina gaped. He was the image of his father: the same color, hair—so black it was almost blue when the sun caught it—and eyes the color of steel, with vague glimmers of gold.

Her gaze moved downward, then up again. Yes, the same tantalizing body, too, as though all the gods had joined together to create the perfection of manhood.

In a flash, she recalled that long-ago wonderful night in Kentucky when Travis Coltrane had made love to her and made her beg for more.

She had left her own bed, after everyone else in the house was asleep, and had made her way quietly to the guest room where Travis was sleeping. She removed all her clothing and crawled naked into his bed before he even realized she was there.

He had made love to her like no man ever had before—or since.

The dreaminess left as quickly as it had come, and in its place appeared the taunting reminder that no man had ever spurned her as coldly as Travis Coltrane had done.

He had also killed the man who had loved her truly: Stewart Mason.

“Get off my property, you bastard! You no-good son of—”

She raised her arm as though to strike him, but Colt grabbed her. He knew she despised his father. Wasn’t that essentially what had brought them all to this point? Alaina Barbeau interfering in their lives?

Alaina struggled, but he held her. “I order you to leave,” she cried.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where to find my sister.”

Alaina glared at him. Oh, why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to bring back all those warm memories of a love she had struggled so hard to forget? No woman who had ever been bedded by Travis Coltrane could ever forget him, no matter how brokenhearted he might have left her.

Alaina was no exception.

Alaina and Colt locked their gazes on each other. Colt’s was challenging. Alaina’s was passionate with remembered love and with hatred, the two emotions warring with each other.

“Ma’am,” he said quietly, deciding that maybe humoring her would get him somewhere, “all I want is to see my sister. Would you call her, please?”

Alaina looked thoughtful. It had been a terrible time. First, there was the fight with Gavin, because she had gone to his bed in the middle of the night and found it empty. He had said, when she saw him at breakfast that morning, that he had been doing some work on his ledgers in his study, but she knew he’d been with Delia. They’d fought about that, and over so much else. All they did any more these days was fight. Her life had been hell since his return, and the only thing that soothed her was vodka in the mornings and whiskey in the evenings.

“Ma’am…?” Colt repeated.

Alaina’s lips curved into a smile. He was truly just like his father, and it would be nice to talk to him, ask him how Travis was doing.

She opened the door wider and bade Colt enter. “In there.” She nodded toward the parlor to the right of the marble foyer.

As he walked through the foyer, Colt decided that the château wasn’t really any more elegant than the home his mother had furnished back in Nevada—the home, he reminded himself grimly, that was no longer his. “Where’s Dani?” he demanded. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“She isn’t here,” Alaina said as they entered the parlor. She crossed to the bar and poured herself a glass of vodka and orange juice. She offered a drink to Colt, but he shook his head and went to stand near her. Unable to keep the fury from his voice any longer, he hissed, “The fun’s over. You know why I’m here. Now tell me where Dani is or I’ll turn this goddamn house upside down. Do you understand me?”

She gave him a coquette’s smile. “I haven’t introduced myself, Colt. I am Alaina, the Countess—”

“Yes, I knew that when I first saw you,” he interrupted.

Alaina was glad she was wearing her green satin robe with the white lace around the high collar. It made her breasts look firmer than they actually were, because of the understitching in the bodice. She had also made up her face, knowing there would be a scene with Gavin and wanting to look good.

She gazed at the man standing beside her. Oh, he was a sight to behold. Would he be every bit as good as his father?

“I will give you one more chance to tell me where she is, and then I will start looking for her myself,” he told her.

Alaina blinked. The young Coltrane was angry. Why? Oh, yes, it was coming back now. Goodness, it was hard to think when the vodka got to tickling around inside.

“Dani isn’t here,” she told him coolly. It was the truth, and she looked at him levelly.

“Where is she?”

Alaina shrugged. “She and Gavin returned to France from America last week, but she stayed in Paris while Gavin came back here.”

“Where can I reach her in Paris?”

Alaina shrugged. “I don’t know.” She did not like all these questions because she didn’t know what she was supposed to say.

Colt persisted. “Then where can I find Gavin?”

Alaina reached for the vodka, and -poured another drink. “I don’t know that, either,” she said.

“I will be back.” Colt turned and walked out of the room and out of the château. He strode down the path, his thoughts racing. He could have torn the house apart looking for Dani or Gavin, but he sensed, somehow, that neither was there.

Alaina lifted her head from the pillow, groaning as the thudding, throbbing pain in her temples assailed her.

She heard the sound of voices, not far away. Where was she?

She remembered coming upstairs, determined to have a discussion with Gavin. She was not going to be relegated to second place by his homely whore. She would have a nice bottle of champagne ready, and when he came into his room, they would drink it, and talk. She would make him realize he couldn’t do without her. They would make love. When he was satiated, she would help him figure out a way to get rid of Delia. Everything would be as it had been before he’d gone to America. Oh, she would allow him his indiscretions. She was sophisticated. She knew that men strayed. But she would always be the one he returned to.

Alaina blinked. She was in the little dressing room off Gavin’s bedroom, the tiny chamber where he took his baths in the ornate porcelain tub. There was also a dressing table, where he kept his bottles of expensive colognes and talcs alongside his shaving things. Seeing her reflection in the large wall mirror, Alaina realized that she had fallen asleep on the gold brocade divan.

“She’s nothing but a baggy-faced old alcoholic, and I don’t know what you ever saw in her.”

That was Delia’s voice, and she was just on the other side of the green velvet curtain that separated the dressing alcove from the bedroom.

“Oh, why look for trouble, Delia?”

Gavin sounded annoyed.

“Trouble?” Delia screeched. “You told me you lived with your adoptive aunt. You did not tell me you’d been screwing her since you were fourteen years old, for chrissake. You didn’t tell me she thinks she owns you. If I’d known about this, I wouldn’t have come.”

Gavin’s response was to laugh brittlely and say, “Oh, yes, you would have, my dear, because you knew I was going to be a wealthy man. That’s why you’ve hung on, why you came with me over here, and that is why you will stay. So why don’t you just shut your nagging mouth and take your clothes off?”

“Listen, Gavin,” Delia snapped, “you can’t have your way with me any time you feel like it. I’m not in the mood.”

He sighed. “I told you, my dear, we are leaving for Greece soon. You will love it there. You will live like the princess you are, and you will be happy.”

“And your old hag? What about her?”

He laughed, a nasty sound that made Alaina cringe with humiliation.
Old hag?
Was she an old hag? “Sooner or later, she’ll realize we aren’t coming back. By then we’ll be living in Spain or Portugal, maybe have mansions in both! Would you like that?”

There was silence, and Alaina knew they were kissing.

She rose slowly, heart pounding. She didn’t want to stay and listen to their lovemaking.

She crept out into the hallway, her heart shriveling with self-loathing.
Old hag.
She would never forget those words.

She moved toward her room, her fighting nature coming to the fore. Humiliated she was, and she hurt badly. But, by God, she wasn’t going to lie down and die.

When she reached her room, she closed and locked the door as a plan began to form. She would find a way to revenge herself on Gavin, and that way would involve, of all people, Travis Coltrane’s son.

Alaina pressed her fingertips against her temples. Her head hurt terribly, but she smiled despite the pain. Vengeance was going to be oh so sweet…as sweet as being made love to by Travis Coltrane.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Colt and Branch had found a small hotel on a side street and procured two rooms. Colt went to his room without a word, and Branch didn’t press him for an explanation of what had happened at the deBonnett château.

Branch took a change of clothes and went to the chamber at the end of the hallway for the luxury of a hot bath. Water was brought to him in large ceramic jugs by a blushing, smiling French maid. Branch promised himself he would seek her out later.

After a much-needed shave and then a hearty meal downstairs, Branch entered the small room at the rear of the hotel lobby which served as a saloon. He was not at all surprised to see a familiar figure in the smoky shadows, leaning against the bar.

“So, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to have a drink?” Branch greeted Colt as he stepped up beside him, signaling to the bartender.

“We’re going back there tonight,” Colt said without preamble. “I’m going to find Dani if I have to tear the place apart, stone by stone.”

He told his friend about the encounter with Alaina. None of it surprised Branch. “Yeah, your pa told me about her. Well, you didn’t expect to just walk right in and take the gold, did you?”

Colt shot him a look. “I can’t take
all
the gold, anyway, Branch. Dani is still entitled to her share, no matter what she’s done. I’m going to take my half and that’s all.”

“Parrish is going to want the entire amount,” Branch hesitantly reminded him.

Colt nodded. “I can get a mortgage. I made sure about that. I’m just grateful for the chance to buy it all back. Parrish didn’t have to agree to sell it back, you know. He’s a good man.” The bartender approached to refill his glass, but Colt declined. He intended to be sober and clearheaded when he returned to the deBonnett house. He had learned the hard way how badly whiskey could mess things up.

“What if Dani has no say-so?” Branch asked him, having been afraid to broach the subject during their journey. “What if Mason laughs in your face and says the whole deal is legal, and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“If that happens, I’ll just kill him,” Colt replied easily. He winked. “No problem, old friend.”

And Branch knew there would not be. Colt was too much like his father. If there was a problem, it would be either solved or eliminated. That was the Coltrane way.

They had been in the bar for an hour, and were talking about taking a walk around the tiny municipality of Monaco before heading back to the deBonnett château, when a young man came in and began scanning the shadows. He crossed to them.

“
Monsieur
Coltrane?” he addressed Branch.

Branch shook his head, and Colt nodded. “I’m Coltrane.”

He handed Colt a small pink envelope that reeked of lavender scent. “I was asked to deliver this to you, monsieur.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “From Countess deBonnett.”

Colt fished in his pocket for a few coins and handed them to the messenger. Then he tore open the envelope and read the note.

Without a word to Branch, he slid from the bar stool and strode purposefully, almost angrily, from the room. He supposed it hadn’t taken much sleuthing for Alaina to find out where he was staying.

He left the hotel and crossed the street, making his way around the corner to cross yet another cobbled street and enter a narrow alleyway. At the end of the alley was a tiny red door with a hand-lettered sign proclaiming
L’HÔTEL
. An odd place for a countess, Colt mused.

Opening the door, he entered a foyer that was hardly more than a closet. The tiny square of space reeked of mildew. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to climb the narrow stairway. There was a hallway to the left at the top of the stairs, and he walked down it until he reached room four.

He knocked.

Almost at once the door opened. His eyes swept over Alaina, who looked nothing like the woman he had met earlier. Her coppery-bronze hair hung loose, curling about her face and shoulders. Her eyes, like dark, rich chocolate, shone with warmth—and desire. Her lips were ruby red and moist, like dewdrops on a rosebud, and her pink tongue licked her lower lip as though in anticipation of a delightful meal.