Moonlight Lover (37 page)

"He'll be fine," she echoed.

Sin-Jin looked down at her, the threads of a hundred memories tangling in his mind. "Have I told you that I love you, Rachel O'Roarke?"

Rachel's mouth fell open. The words stunned her,
robbing her of her very-breath. But being Rachel, it was
only for the slightest of moments.

"No, but you may."

She laced her arms around his neck and brought her
body close to his. She wanted to feel the heat of his body,
wanted to feel his arousing need of her. Sometimes, she thought, frustrated, all this material could be so cumbersome.

"You may tell me as many times as you like." She laughed, her eyes crinkling as he trailed his hands along her back, pressing her even closer. "As long as you don't use that as an excuse just to talk your way into my bed."

He smiled confidently, knowing it provoked her. "For that, I don't need talk." He nipped her lower lip quickly before she could say a word.

The word melted into a single moan.

"Very touching."

Still locked in one another's arms, they turned to find Vanessa descending down the stairs. She was resplendent in a morning gown, her hands clasped before her. She faced them easily. There wasn't a single telltale trace in her expression of what had transpired between them the night before.

You are a piece of goods, Vanessa, Sin-Jin thought, but there was no admiration in the appraisal. He blessed the Providence that had saved him from her clutches all these many years ago.

In response to her comment, Sin-Jin tightened his arm around Rachel.

"Then you are determined to take your leave of us after all?" There was just the slightest pout, a protrusion of her lower lip in a way she had practiced before her mirror.

The gall of the woman astounded Sin-Jin. "It was never my intent to stay even as long as I did. Our ship sails at noon and we are to be on it."

Vanessa sighed, seemingly resigned. "A pity." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sin-Jin, completely ignoring Rachel. There had to be a way. Vanessa was not one to be easily thwarted from her goal. When the prize became elusive, it became dearer.

"I really hoped that if you stayed, we could get reacquainted again." She touched his arm, then allowed her fingers to flutter away. "At leisure."

Rachel envisioned Vanessa plucked clean of her luxurious hair. It made her smile. "There'll be no more reacquainting going on. Sin-Jin is as acquainted with
you, Countess," she said the title as if it was an obscenity,
"as he intends on being." Rachel saw the angry flash in the other woman's eyes and felt triumphant.

There was a window facing the courtyard behind them.
Rachel nodded carelessly toward the carriage that was standing there. "Our chariot awaits, Sin-Jin." She presented her hand to Vanessa. "Such a pleasure meeting you, Countess."

Vanessa merely glared at her and Rachel didn't trouble herself to hide the smug smile that rose to her lips.

The older woman turned to look at Sin-Jin, hardly able
to believe that he was actually leaving after she had all but bidden him to stay.

He took her hand formally. His loathing was barely concealed. "Good-bye, Vanessa. Mind what I told you about the leeches. Take care of my brother or there will
be accounts to pay." He said the words genially, but there
was a warning look in his eyes that neither woman missed.

Slipping his hand around Rachel's shoulders, he
guided her out the door and closed it firmly behind them.
Vanessa remained inside.

Burns painfully approached from the side of the manor. Spying the carriage, he had been patiently
waiting to see them off. He attempted to keep out of sight
of the window. The Countess's wrath was feared by one and all.

"Godspeed, Master Sin-Jin." His expression was
mournful, for he knew that he would never see the young
man again. Not in this lifetime.

"Here." Sin-Jin handed the old man a pouch. "I forgot to give you this earlier."

Burns and Rachel looked at Sin-Jin quizzically. "What's this?"

"A little something for you and Cook."

"Oh no, sir, I can't." Burns attempted to hand the envelope back to Sin-Jin.

"You can." Sin-Jin pushed the envelope into the gnarled hands. "It's for your trouble. I meant what I said about watching over Alfred."

"Oh that I shall. And gladly." The old head bobbed up and down like a white egg floating freely in a pond.

Sin-Jin squeezed the old man's hand, then turned to help Rachel into the carriage. He climbed on behind her. "Get us to town, boy," he instructed the young driver.

A whip cracked and they were off.

Sin-Jin and Rachel waved at the lone figure in the courtyard until the old man had diminished to the size of a doll, then faded from view completely.

Rachel settled against Sin-Jin and sighed as he slipped his arm around her. The sound of the horse's hooves beat rhythmically against the road as they drew closer to town. "Are you sorry you came?"

Sin-Jin took only a moment to consider. "No, glad of it, actually."

She sat up to look at him curious. "Oh?"

He nodded. It was hard to see things end. But there was a cleansing about it as well. "It gave me an opportunity to
see Vanessa as she really is." He sighed. "And I did want to see Alfred again. This will undoubtedly be our last meeting on this earth."

She tried to fathom his meaning. "Then you are thinking that he'll be dying soon?"

"No." Sin-Jin watched as the countryside sped by them. All this belonged to Alfred, he mused. There was no envy in the thought. "With any luck, Alfred will recover, especially with Burns watching over him, and live to a ripe old age. Now that Vanessa knows her only
chance to keep the title that's so precious to her is to keep Alfred alive, I'm certain she'll take good care of him." He
silently bid a last farewell to the manor. "It's just that I have no plans to return."

Rachel entwined her arms through his and leaned
against him, contentment filtering down to her very toes.

"And glad of it I am." She saw Sin-Jin raise a brow in
silent query. Rachel frowned slightly as she thought of Vanessa. "That she-devil might have eventually enchanted you again the way she had once. Though you'd be a fool if she did," she added.

Sin-Jin couldn't resist baiting her just a little. He leaned back and nodded thoughtfully, as if considering her words. "She is beautiful."

Rachel sat up, her back as straight as poker. There was
a warning flash in her eyes. She hit his shoulder with the flat of her hand.

Sin-Jin laughed, delighted with her reaction. He pulled
her into his arms. When the driver looked over his shoulder, Sin-Jin waved his attention back to the road.

"But her thorns were far too deadly." It obviously wasn't what Rachel wanted to hear. "And what would I want with a rose when I have a wildflower blooming in my own garden?"

She wasn't about to have him taking her for granted. "It's not your garden yet, buckoo."

"We'll see. Driver, faster. We've a ship to catch." As
the horse picked up speed and the carriage jolted, Sin-Jin

turned his attention to Rachel. "And I've a shrew to tame."

"Shrew, is it now?" she demanded.

"Yes, but not forever." He covered her lips with his own and the argument melted away.

The passage across the channel was rough, but mercifully short. And then they were in Paris again with Franklin welcoming them both with open arms.

"The city," he told them when they arrived at the inn that night, "has been deadly dull without the spark of your young voices." He sighed wearily. "If the truth be told, I am nearly sick to distraction of those old men's
tired arguments and heartily wish I had never set foot on
this soil."

"You cannot fool me with the likes of your complaining, Benjamin Franklin, Esquire." Rachel told him affectionately. "You're happier than a clam at high tide that you're here."

Franklin leaned over the table toward Sin-Jin. "She's very picturesque."

Sin-Jin exchanged looks with Rachel. "Among other things," Sin-Jin agreed.

Negotiations on the treaty dragged. And then, one night nearly a month after their return, a letter arrived for Sin-Jin by special messenger. It was waiting for Sin-Jin when he arrived at the inn. Rachel had gone to bed early with a headache. Franklin had remained with Adams and Jay at the hall to iron out yet another fragment that was causing them trouble.

So Sin-Jin was alone in his room when the innkeeper brought the letter.

He sat down on his bed, silently regarding the sealed missive. Several minutes went by before he forced himself to break the familiar seal. He didn't have to read the words. He knew what the letter would say before he unfolded it.

Vanessa's bold hand informed him that his brother had taken a turn for the worse the night after he and Rachel
had left. He had died the following week. Sin-Jin was now
the new Earl of Shallot and was needed home as quickly
as possible to settle matters at the estate. She promised to
be of any use that she could.

The letter was signed: Your Humble Servant, Vanessa.

Sin-Jin slowly refolded the letter. There had never been anything humble about Vanessa, he thought as a hollowness began to grow within him.

He had not thought that it would hurt, losing the last
of his family. But he remembered the way his brother had
looked, lost and alone, lying in that dark room and Sin-Jin's heart ached. A man shouldn't have to die that way. It didn't seem fair.

He let the letter drop. It floated to the floor at his feet. Sin-Jin sat on his bed, staring unseeing into the candlelight.

"Good bye, Alfred," he whispered, the tears thick in his throat. "If I'm any judge of things, you'll have more peace
where you're going than you've had in the last ten years."

Sin-Jin let out a slow breath. The candle flickered in the breeze he created. He watched it until the flame had dwindled down to less than half its size.

Behind him, the blaze in the fireplace had almost completely died out. One or two embers still burned, reluctant to have done until they too finally gave up the ghost.

He didn't realize any of that, or that the tears within his soul had pushed their way up and now slid along his cheeks.

All he knew was that his family was no more.

Chapter Thirty-eight

The light from a single candle splintered the darkness that was as bleak as the inside of a tomb. Rachel lay perfectly still on her bed.

It didn't help. The headache had gotten progressively worse instead of better. It felt as if a dozen leprechauns were madly digging in the center of her skull, ripping it apart in search of their crock of gold.

Her throat dry, Rachel swallowed. Even that echoed through her temples. She had skipped dinner and had gone to bed early in hopes of falling asleep and vanquishing this annoyance that assailed her.

Sleep had completely, wantonly eluded her. She was beginning to despair of ever being able to lift her head again.

Rachel had no idea how long she had been laying there,
feeling her entire body throb, echoing the pain in her head. Minutes, hours, they all seemed to run together. And then she heard the door to her room opening softly.

She sighed, shading her eyes. Slivers of light from the lamp in the hallway momentarily shimmered into the room before the door was closed again.

"Not tonight, Sin-Jin," she said miserably. "My head aches so."

She heard someone approach and stop just at the foot of the bed. The footfalls sounded to heavy to be Sin-Jin, but that could have just been the fault of her headache. It magnified everything.

"Don't worry," a deep voice rasped, the sound like fingernails scratching along a washboard. "You won't have need of your head before long."

"What?" Surprise and the sickly taste of panic slashed through her at the same time.

Her eyes flew open, but she couldn't see who it was. Something foul-smelling and coarse was being thrown over her. A blanket of some sort, or a sack. Alert, frightened, Rachel struggled to free herself. Something or someone hit her on the head.

Instantly the leprechauns were transformed into giants and the pounding in her head swallowed her up, casting her into black nothingness.

Sin-Jin started, his head jerking up. The small room was bright with sunlight. It was morning.

He rubbed his eyes and realized that he had fallen asleep, sitting up in the chair by the fireplace. He hadn't
been able to force himself to lie down in bed. The letter he
had picked up from the floor was still clutched in his hand. The candle had burned itself out.

Shifting, he discovered that every bone in his body was
stiff. There was an ache in them that rivaled the one he felt in his heart. He stretched and several joints cracked.

The first thought that burst upon his mind, like water filling a bottle, was that Alfred was dead. The second came more slowly. He had to tell Rachel.

There were decisions to be made. The death of his brother was not just a personal matter. There were now vast repercussions to deal with. It was all well and good to talk of never returning home when there were no responsibilities involved. But now that the title had been passed on to him, the matter had taken on a completely different hue. There were many things to be considered.

But whatever decisions he had to make, they could no longer be made alone. Rachel was very much a part of his life and he part of hers. He could not just think of himself when he thought of the future, any future. She had a voice in it as well. An equal voice.

Sin-Jin needed her now. Needed her comfort, needed to hear her rambling voice with its simple comforting homilies and aggravating arguments.

He needed her.

Shrugging his shoulders to undo the knots that had laced muscles together in a tangled whole, Sin-Jin rose and strode toward the water pitcher. The maid had forgotten to refill it, but there was enough left to suit his purpose.