Luck of the Wolf (12 page)

“Madame Martin is very sure of you. And so am I.”

Her eyes were too bright, as if she were close to weeping. Something hard and painful settled in Cort's throat. She was unhappy, and
he
was responsible.

When he'd first spoken of her family, she'd seemed
excited enough, or at least pleased at the prospect of being reunited with them. When had that changed? Had she lost her enthusiasm when he'd rejected her tentative advances?

He thought through her questions again, the ones probing into his past and the state of his wallet. She had asked if they could go to
his
family instead of the New Orleans Reniers. Her ignorance would have been amusing if it hadn't been so sad. As if the bayou Reniers would have anything to give her.

As if
he
did.

“You have nothing more to be afraid of, I promise you,” he said.

“But if…if I couldn't do it…would you be very disappointed?”

He permitted himself to pat her hand. “You won't disappoint me.”

The reassurance didn't seem to help. Aria continued to stare out the window, presenting a blank surface he couldn't penetrate.

That was all to the good, wasn't it? If she kept her distance, he could keep his. If she felt uncertain about him, about herself, she wouldn't approach him with her innocent desire.

His cock began to harden. If it were not for that innocence, he might have given her what they both wanted. He would take great care with her, unlike most other men.

If only…

An idea came into his head, both terrible and enticing. He glanced at Aria, who was pretending to sleep. So easy, and so satisfying. He could cause even more humiliation to the Reniers, satisfy Aria and enjoy him
self in the process. It would be the work of minutes to seduce her once the setting was right.

He muffled a groan. No matter what she thought she wanted, he was still responsible for her. And in spite of recent lapses, he was still a gentleman.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the roar and rattle of the train, the stale and smoky smell of the air, anything but the woman beside him.

His all-too-vivid imagination haunted him all the way to Sacramento.

 

“W
E'RE LEAVING
.”

Babette shot Yuri a quizzical glance. “Of course we are leaving,” she said. “Isn't that the plan?”

Yuri cursed as he hurried her toward the Ferry House. The boat was filling quickly, and the raised hairs at the back of his neck refused to lie flat.

“We are leaving California,” he said. “Permanently.”

She stopped.
“Excusez moi?”

He tugged her into motion again. “You heard me.”

Her strength was far greater than her petite frame suggested. She dug in her heels and refused to be budged again. “What madness is this?” she demanded.

“No madness.” He looked right and left, his unease stronger than ever. “We have no time to waste.”

“We have time,
mon ami,
” she said, “for I will not go one step farther until you explain yourself.”

With an explosive breath, Yuri took her arm again and led her away from the surging crowd. Only once they were situated in the shade of the overhanging roof of a dockside building did he let her go.

“It is simple,” he said, striving to calm both his voice
and his racing heart. “I do not believe that Brecht has given up.”

Babette peered into his eyes. “You make no sense, Yuri. Monsieur Renier said you told him that Brecht was only a mercenary and would cause no more trouble.”

“Cort may believe he knows everything, but that arrogance will be his downfall.”

“His downfall?” Babette seized his arm. “Yuri, what do you mean?”

Yuri shivered involuntarily. Ever since he and Aria had staged their fight with Cort, he had been considering how much he dared tell Babette. That she still felt affection for him was beyond doubt. As tough as she was under that beautiful facade—and in spite of his poor treatment of her in the past—he knew he could easily manipulate her by showing her even a little affection in return.

But she was not stupid, nor would she accept an implausible explanation. It was too late to tell himself now what a serious mistake he had made in inviting her to be a part of the scheme he and Cort had devised.

“I knew Brecht,” Yuri said heavily. “I had some dealings with the less savory side of New Orleans society, as you may remember.” He hesitated, then made the leap. “He is the man who kidnapped Lucienne Renier.”

It was not easy to shock Babette out of her practiced poise, but her face went pale, and she backed closer to the wall as if he had shouted in her face. “You knew, and you said nothing?” she whispered.

“Yes. But when I recognized Lucienne, it never occurred to me that Brecht would be in San Francisco. I had not seen him in eight years.”

Babette pressed her hands to her bodice. “I cannot believe this,” she said. “You knew the man who had
kidnapped the girl, and yet you never thought to tell—”

“I never expected to see Brecht again. Cort said nothing to me until after the attack, and that was the first time I so much as suspected that he might be in town. Even then, I wasn't certain.”

“Certain or not, you should have warned Cort! And Anna!
Mon Dieu,
the poor child.”

“She has no memory of her past with him. Brecht must have lost her years ago. How was I to guess that he was still looking for her?”

Babette covered her mouth with her hands and shivered. “Why did he kidnap her? No ransom was ever demanded for the girl. She has clearly not been abused. What could he have wanted with her?”

“I do not know his thoughts,” Yuri said. “I met him mere months before the kidnapping, and he disappeared immediately after he abducted Lucienne.”

“Why in God's name did you not go to the authorities?”

“Brecht was gone, and any involvement on my part might suggest to the police that I knew of the crime before it took place.” He gripped her arms. “Would you have wanted me arrested? Questioned, possibly tortured, by the Reniers, who have such influence in New Orleans? Tried for a crime that would surely have seen me hanged? You know they are capable of it!”

“You cared nothing for the child's welfare?”

“I made inquiries. I did what I could to learn more. But Brecht had covered his trail so well that no man could hope to find him. Not even the
loups-garous
.” He put on an expression of profound regret. “You know they searched for her. They failed. How could
I
succeed?”

“Oh, Yuri.” She closed her eyes. “You could still have told Cort. It would have been so simple.”

“Far from simple. I was considering how to tell him when he suggested this plan of escape. That convinced me that I no longer wished to be a party to his plans for the girl.”

“If you had warned him as soon as you heard the name, he might not have suggested this plan! He would have known that Brecht was a more dangerous enemy than he—”

“I need not explain my reasons to you, Babette. It is enough for you to know that I…” He looked down at his boots. “That I wished to protect you above all else.”

She opened her eyes and searched his face. For deception. For cowardice. She was right to suspect both those things.

“You must trust me, my dear,” he said. “Though we met only briefly, Brecht may remember my name. If he knows that I am involved with Cort, he might attempt to use us against him. Cort will never allow Brecht to take her. He would throw away all our lives for the sake of his pride and greed.”

“Are we speaking of the same man?” Babette's face had become flushed, and he realized he was once again treading on dangerous ground. “Yes, I know that both of you expected to be well rewarded for restoring the girl to her family. I came to San Francisco in full awareness of this, and I saw no harm in it, given the benefits to the girl. But to suggest that Monsieur Renier would go to any lengths to obtain this reward…”

“You do not know him as I do.” He softened his gaze and touched her cheek. “What's done is done. What Cort does with the girl is no longer my concern. He will no
doubt get away safely, and it is my intention that we do the same.”

He had hoped for capitulation and found himself sadly disappointed. “You know we cannot, Yuri,” she said. “
I
cannot.”

“Brecht's men may be following us even now. We must board that ferry.”

“You go on,” she said. “I will—” She broke off and looked over his shoulder. Yuri turned and followed her gaze.

A man was threading his way toward them through the crowd, feigning deep concentration on his own affairs. Too
much
concentration.

“Come quickly,” Yuri said, taking Babette's arm again.

This time she didn't balk. They set off at a fast pace toward the Ferry House. They were far less likely to be accosted once they were in the midst of a dozen or more passengers, and by the time they docked on the opposite shore of the Bay, he would have made some kind of plan to get away from Brecht's minions. Or so he prayed.

Only a few more yards, and then—

He bumped hard into a slender man, who grabbed his arm and stuttered an apology. Yuri shoved the man aside, swung Babette clear and reached for the Derringer in his pocket.

He wasn't fast enough. The slender man drew a pistol from inside his coat and jammed it into Yuri's side. Yuri chopped down on the man's neck with the side of his hand. The man staggered, and his pistol clattered to the pavement. Several passersby paused to watch the skirmish, less alarmed than curious.

“Do you require assistance?” one of the male observers asked.

“Nyet,”
Yuri snapped. He turned to pull Babette away, but the observer's fingers were already digging into his shoulder.

“I fear you may need medical attention, sir,” the man said. “I am a doctor. Please, come with me. I must insist.”

Yuri cataloged the man with a desperate glance: well dressed, pleasant-featured, in every way a respectable gentleman.

Di Reinardus had been clever. The men who'd actually confronted Yuri looked nothing like the typical hatchet men Cort had described.

Fool. You miserable fool
. But no recriminations would save them now. All his fears had been realized.

There is still a way out,
Yuri thought. The very way he had hoped to avoid. Babette would likely never forgive him. But if it was a matter of their survival, he was willing to pay that price.

And the price of despising himself for the rest of his life.

T
HE DUKE WAS WAITING
for them at a nearby warehouse, perched on a crate as if it were a throne. He slid to the floor, bowed to Babette and gestured for her to remove her veil.

Di Reinardus nodded with appreciation. “A brave attempt,” he said. “I will admit that we followed the wrong scent. I also made the mistake of believing that you would understand my warning. Those errors, however, will be quickly corrected.” He nodded for his men—now joined by much bigger and more threatening minions—to escort Babette out of hearing.

“Let go of me,” she said, digging in her heels.

“You had best cooperate,
madame,
” di Reinardus said. “I would not wish you to suffer…an indignity.”

“Go!” Yuri said hoarsely.

The duke's men dragged her away. Di Reinardus gestured Yuri to another crate. “I see you have made your choice,” he said mildly. “It seems to have been the wrong one.”

Yuri settled on the crate as if he had not a care in the world. “You mistake me, my dear duke,” he said. “I am done with Renier.”

The duke smiled. “Do not pretend with me, my friend. Such blatant mendacity does not suit you.”

There was no profit in suggesting that he had planned to come to the duke all along. “I agreed with Renier's
plan only so that Babette and I could leave San Francisco,” he said.

“Leave? When I so politely asked you to stay until I required your services?”

Yuri shrugged. “You never contacted me, so I assumed…”

“Renier proved more troublesome than I expected.” Di Reinardus folded his hands behind his back. “Did you warn him, Yuri?”

“No,” Yuri said. “I did not.”

Di Reinardus nodded. “You appear to have kept some of your sense. A pity that you have underestimated me in so many other ways.”

Yuri prayed that the duke's keen hearing hadn't detected how frantically his heart was beating. “I have never doubted your resolve,” he said. “But I must once again warn
you
not to underestimate Renier. He has powerful reasons for keeping the girl.”

“The same reasons as yours.”

“He wants more than money. He wants revenge against the New Orleans Reniers.”

“Oh? Very interesting. Why did you not see fit to tell me this before?”

“Do you wish to hear the story?”

The duke waved for him to continue. When Yuri had finished, di Reinardus smiled.

“How very intriguing. I had suspected he was not entirely a gentleman. A pity he is so stubborn. I might have offered him a chance to take his revenge without the fatal consequences of opposing me. You, however, may yet preserve your life.” Di Reinardus removed a cigarette from a gold case tucked in his coat and held it out to Yuri.

Yuri took the cigarette with trembling fingers.
“Perhaps I would prefer to die rather than serve you again.”

Di Reinardus shook his head as if he were admonishing a recalcitrant child. “Are you so certain that your fair companion feels the same?”

As desperate as the attempt might be, Yuri had to make it. “Why should I care how she feels?”

“I believe you care a great deal, Baron. I was not unaware of your dealings with Babette Moreau in New Orleans.”

“That was over long ago.”

“And yet here she is.” The duke blew a smoke ring. “Allow me to make the decision easier for you.”

He snapped his fingers, and one of his armed attendants left the room. The men who had taken Babette away returned, one keeping a firm hold on Babette's right arm. No one would guess that she was frightened, but Yuri knew she was far too intelligent not to understand how badly things were going.

The duke gestured for the men to bring her closer. He bowed to her with a click of his heels.

“Madame,”
he said. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Duke Gunther di Reinardus.”

Babette hid her surprise well. “How very interesting,” she said. “I had not realized we were to be honored by the attention of someone so distinguished.”

Gunther's face darkened. “If you have any influence with the baron, now might be an appropriate time to make use of it.”

She met his gaze. “In what way,
monsieur le duc?
”

“Persuade him to tell us where Renier and the girl have gone.”

“I doubt he will listen to me, sir,” she said.

“I doubt that Monsieur Chernikov would enjoy seeing
that pretty face of yours marred because you failed to convince him to cooperate.”

“Leave her alone!” Yuri snarled.

“That is entirely up to you.” The duke drew an ivory-handled knife from inside his coat, unsheathed it and held it up as if to admire the finely etched blade. His men pushed Babette closer to him. She flinched but held her ground.

It was more than Yuri could bear.

“Very well,” he said, almost too sick to speak. “Let her leave, and I'll do better than tell you what you want to know.”

Di Reinardus stared at him for a moment and then nodded to his henchmen. “Take the lady outside, but keep careful watch on her.” He returned his attention to Yuri. “Do not waste my time, Baron. I am done with your games.”

And so Yuri bargained as he had never bargained in his life.

 

S
ACRAMENTO
, A
RIA THOUGHT
, was not nearly as overwhelming as San Francisco. The streets were much wider, the buildings not nearly so tall and the crowds less daunting. It felt odd to be in such a flat place after the steep hills of the coastal city.

She kept close to Cort as he checked them into the hotel, glad for the pretense that allowed her to hold his arm so tightly. While they were staying in the hotel, she would be Miss Anna Reynolds, his younger sister. He had not even considered two separate rooms; he had said he wouldn't let her out of his sight until Babette and Yuri joined them.

Still, they might as well have been miles apart. As soon as they entered the two-room suite, Cort set their
bags in the corner of the sitting room, locked the door and went to the window. He stared out for a long time without speaking.

“Is it all right?” Aria asked. “I didn't smell anyone following us.”

“Nor did I,” he said. “But we will not let down our guard until Yuri and Babette arrive.”

And she could tell that he wasn't going to let down his guard with her, either. She sat on the small sofa and yanked off her gloves. She had come so close to admitting on the train that she couldn't possibly be Lucienne Renier. She had hoped he would tell her that it didn't matter if she ever went to the Reniers, that he wouldn't be upset or disappointed if she failed to become what he wanted.

But he hadn't said that. And once again she found that she couldn't bear the thought of his anger when he learned how completely she had deceived him. He would see a backward, treacherous child who had turned on a man who had only been trying to help her at some cost to himself. He wouldn't believe…

Aria twisted her hands in her lap. He wouldn't believe how much she cared about him. More than anything else in the world.

“It's late,” Cort said. “I will go down to the dining room while you prepare for bed.”

Aria glanced toward the door to the other room. That was the bedroom, and Cort had already made clear that she would sleep there while he would stay in the sitting room.

“You don't have to go out,” she ventured. “I can get ready in the bedroom.”

He didn't look at her. “I'll order dinner for us,” he
said. “You haven't eaten since morning.” He paused, frowning. “You're not still worried about Babette?”

She shook her head. “It's only…I wish…”

“What do you wish, Aria?” he asked, as if he were inquiring about her preference in tea.

“I wish all this were over with.”

“I've told you there is nothing to be afraid of. Everything is proceeding just as we planned.”

Her frustration boiled over. “You can't wait for me to go to the Reniers, can you?”

“You know what I want for you.”

“But what do
you
want, Cort? Not just for me. What do you want for
yourself?
”

Cort strode to the door. “I'll be back soon,” he said. The door banged shut behind him.

Aria leaned her forehead against the cool wood. She always seemed to say the wrong thing. Nearly everything she did made him angry, and then she ended up feeling just as angry with him. Or hurt, as she felt now.

She had thought that Cort had been hurting when he'd spoken of his family, that he could feel lost and alone, too. But he seemed to be able to push those feelings aside in a way she couldn't. He was always the one in charge, making decisions, deciding what her future was to be.

Ignoring her and how she felt about him.

What would it take to make him
see
her?

Cort returned with dinner on a tray, set it down on the table and left her alone again. She picked at the food, ate what she could and pushed the rest aside. Cort didn't even chide her. He went out again a little while later, ordering her to get ready for sleep, and didn't come back until after she was tucked under the covers.

She lay very still, listening to him pace back and forth in the sitting room. It was a long time before he stopped. Finally Aria drifted into sleep, but she woke many times that night, thinking about Babette and Yuri, and wondering what Cort was feeling.

The next few days were exactly the same. Aria spent the long daylight hours in their room, reading the book she had brought with her and pretending nothing was wrong. Cort paced the sitting room every night, his soft tread drumming in her ears.

On the fifth morning he informed her that they could wait no longer.

“They must have been held up,” he said, gazing at the wall over her head as they sat opposite each other in the sitting room. “We'll go on to the mountains. Yuri and Madame Martin will find us there.”

His voice was expressionless and remote, but Aria could feel his worry almost as strongly as she felt her own. He'd been so certain that Brecht had given up, and now he was thinking he'd been wrong.

Something bad might have happened to Yuri and Babette. And it would all be his fault.

And hers.

Aria hugged herself, and rocked back and forth in her chair. If he didn't have to take care of
her,
she knew Cort would have rushed right back to San Francisco and searched for Yuri and Babette until he found them. If they were in trouble, he would have found a way to get them out of it.

If it hadn't been for her, none of this would have happened in the first place.

“We should go back,” she blurted out.

Slowly he met her gaze. “You know we cannot, Aria.”

“I don't care if it's dangerous. I want Babette to be safe.”

“As I do.” Cort leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. Aria couldn't bear it. She jumped up from the sofa, pushing her skirts out of the way, and put her arms around him.

He was so stiff that he felt as if he might break apart, yet he didn't try to get up. He simply sat there as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“It will be all right,” she whispered.

Without a word he took her into his arms. It was just what she had wanted for so long, but she wasn't thinking about herself now. She was only comforting and being comforted, sharing Cort's sadness and guilt. When he found her lips with his, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The kiss was nothing like what she'd expected. It was far more wonderful. His mouth was gentle, moving softly over hers. His fingers brushed her cheek as lightly as snowflakes. She followed his lead, stroking him as she would a kitten or a newborn lamb. The rigidity went out of his body. Her eyes filled up, and she had to stop to wipe them before Cort could see.

He pulled away. “Tears?” he murmured.
“Non, non, ma petite.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb and smiled. “We will wait one more day.”

 

A
S IT TURNED OUT
, they didn't have to wait even that long. The next morning, while Cort was down getting their breakfast and Aria was at the window, watching as always, she saw a familiar man and woman crossing the street. She ran to the door, barely able to contain her excitement.

Five minutes was all it took. Cort nearly bounded
into the room, grinning the way he used to when they'd first met.

“They're all right,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Where are they?”

“They've checked into another hotel down the street.”

“I want to see Babette right away!”

“Not now, Aria. It would be better to let them rest a while.”

“
Did
someone follow them?”

“Yes. But their pursuers were only humans. They were not difficult to evade, but Yuri preferred to take no chances.” Cort frowned, and the light went out of his eyes. “If anything had happened…”

“But it didn't,” Aria said. She moved closer to him and touched his hand.

He took a sideways step, stopping out of her reach. “It didn't,” he agreed, his gaze fixed on something she couldn't see. “There is no reason to delay any longer. I've hired a wagon to carry our supplies to the lodge. I'll leave for the mountains before dawn tomorrow. You, Babette and Yuri will follow by train in two days' time.”

“You mean you'll be going alone?”

“There is no reason to subject the rest of you to an uncomfortable journey.”

But she knew that wasn't really what he was worried about at all. The way he had moved aside when she'd touched his hand told her the real reason. He wanted to pretend the kiss last night had never happened.

But she wasn't going to let him forget it.

“I'm going with you,” she said.