Tonight or Never (24 page)

Case in point, the new group that had arrived this morning.

Several of them had mentioned that they weren't brought directly to the house, but secreted for the night in an old shed on the outskirts of some village, the location of which they did not know. Then they were escorted to
Chacun
à
Son
Goût
.

Since the man who saved them always appeared in disguise, they did not even know if it was the same man who brought them here from
France.

John believed sometimes it was and sometimes it wasn't. He also believed whoever it was might, on occasion, return to the house a day
prior
to the arrivals to allay suspicion. It all depended on what kind of help he had; something John had no way of knowing.

The Black Rose, safely encamped in the house once again, would wait with the rest of them for new French visitors, showing the appropriate surprise when they showed up.

Now who could it be?

John went down a list of possible suspects in his mind.

The interesting thing was that Maurice, Percy, and
Deiter
had all been called away for the past few days on various excuses.

Maurice had gone to check out his estate, having received a message that a fire had broken out in one of the wings of his homes. He returned yesterday with the story that no fire had broken out and no one knew who had sent the message.

John would have liked to believe his uncle, but he knew for a fact that Maurice had been somewhat wild in his younger days, and he wouldn't put it past the Frenchman to see it as his obligation to rescue his fellow countrymen.

Deiter
had not shown up for two days and when questioned had claimed someone had drugged him and he had slept for two days straight without anyone checking up on him—a fact he seemed extremely disgruntled over. He seriously asked John if no one thought it strange that he had slept all that time.

John couldn't very well say the truth, which was no, not really.
Deiter
was something of an enigma; however, John had a hard time picturing the grim Bavarian in such a dashing role.

Then there was Percy. The fop had decided to visit a friend of his in the next township for a few days, and Lord Sexton was not about to interfere with that fine decision. As far as him being the Black Rose, that was difficult to fathom under any circumstances, so he moved on to the next candidate.

Or candidates, as the case might be, that being the
Cyndreacs
.
Or one of the
Cyndreacs
, to be precise.

This was John's best guess. But which one was it? They were very hard to keep track of, and since they looked so much alike, unless they were all together it was almost impossible to tell if one was missing.

They were young, brash, and foolishly brave. Impersonating different characters while taking on the citizen army would be exactly the thing that would appeal to a young count bent on adventure.

Come to think of it, it could be more than one of them… except that
Zu-Zu
had said she had seen them in prison and he believed her. He also believed that she saw
six
Cyndreacs
, not seven. The seventh saved her from a beheading, then went back and liberated his brothers.

And he was still doing it.

Now, with so many in the house, it was almost impossible to keep track of who went where. Last night they had to move into the large banquet hall. Some came to dinner, some didn't.

It was a perfect foil.

John was determined to find out who it was, though. He resolved to keep an eye and ear out, and do some espionage of his own. He could be very good at subterfuge, if need be.

Even so, he knew there would be one person he would soon have to discuss this with.
Chloe.
It would not be long before she intuited something amiss. The
carrottop
had always been sharp.

So he was not overly surprised that night when they got into bed and Chloe asked him, "Have you noticed an odd pattern happening with the—"

"Yes."

Her brow furrowed. "Who is it, do you suppose?"

"I don't know yet, but I will tell you this…"

"What?"

He took her in his arms, snuggling her close to him. "It is not
Baronne
Dufond
."

Chloe giggled. The widow had been annoying everyone with her impossible whiny demands since she arrived. Her father, the due, was even worse. Only Jean-Jules seemed able to put up with her, often defending her, much to the bafflement of his brothers.

"Do you have any guesses?" she asked, rubbing her face against the warm skin of his chest. John always felt wonderful and smelled even better.
Grandmere
had once devised a scent just for him, and gave him soaps and cologne made with the woodsy fragrance every Christmas. He seemed to favor it, as he used it almost exclusively, albeit sparingly.

"Yes, I do." He stroked her hair absently. "I think it's one of the
Cyns
."

"The
Cyndreacs
?"
She wrinkled her nose as she thought about it.

John bent down and kissed the tip.

"Why a
Cyndreac
?"

He told her his reasoning.

"Hmm… I don't think so, John. For one thing, they seem too young to accomplish such daring exploits."

"Some of them are older than you, and youth is often flamboyant."

She raised one of her brows. "Then what is your excuse?"

"That is not humorous, Chloe-
phant
."

"I hate that name."

He grinned. "I know."

"I still don't think it's one of the
Cyndreacs
." Her lower lip pouted as she thought the situation over.

"Why?" He captured that lower lip between his teeth and suckled on it.

Reluctantly, he released the delectable morsel so she could answer him. "Well, Percy did remark that the Black Rose was believed to be a pirate, and none of the
Cyndreacs
have ever taken up such a profession—so that rules them out."

"No, Percy said it was
rumored
. That doesn't mean the Black Rose actually was a pirate."

"I'm not convinced."

"Then who's your guess?" His hands stroked down her back, massaging as they went.

"I think it is someone we don't know… someone not a guest in the house, who knows we are French aristocrats. He reasons that we would be sympathetic to his cause and certainly would never turn away a fellow countryman from our door. He might even be posing as one of the servants, for all we know."

"I disagree."

Chloe placed her palms on his chest to lever back from him. She gazed up at him. "Why?"

"Because"—John brought her in close again—"he knew who your friends were and he made it a point to save them."

"All right, then he is a house servant—that would explain his knowledge."

He shook his head. "It just doesn't seem right."

Chloe peeked up at him through her lashes. "Shall we wager?"

He raised one eyebrow. "To see who's right?"

She nodded, two mischievous dimples popping into her cheeks.

"Very well, madam. What do you propose to wager?" His voice drawled with wicked possibilities.

"I wager…" She stopped to think about it a moment. "That if I am proven correct, you will have to do whatever I say for one night."

John looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief. He met her perplexed expression with a teasing smile and twinkling eyes. "Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, remember what I told you in the bath that time? You must choose a forfeit that one would not welcome wholeheartedly."

She pouted again, realizing her error.

He snickered. "However, I'll gladly accept your terms, sweet." He rubbed her nose with his own.

"Good." She beamed, already getting excited over the prospect of having John at her mercy for an entire night. "We need to come up with a plan as to how we can track him down."

"That shouldn't be too hard, actually."

Chloe gave him a questioning look.

"Now that we are aware that he's operating in and about
Chacun
à
Son
Goût
," he explained, "all I have to do is monitor the front of the estate in the wee hours of night. Most of the 'deliveries' have been in the early morning hours. Something tells me, though, that any future ones will be in the middle of the night."

"Why do you think that?"

"He's too sharp to take unnecessary risks. He would have to assume that one of us would now be on to him. Night allows the cover the darkness to protect him."

"That makes sense. I never realized you were so smart, John." She tickled his ribs.

He quickly grabbed her hand. John was very ticklish there and she knew it.

"Since we just had an arrival, I think we won't see any action for several days. Starting tomorrow night, I'll be waiting for him."

"Let's say he does appear; then what?"

"Then I follow him."

Chloe paled a little. "You don't think he could be dangerous, do you? I mean, they do say he is a pirate, John, and I don't want you in danger."

"Thank you, my carrot," he said dryly, "but I can assure you that I am not worried."

John was said to be an expert shot and just as good with the blade. He had fought enough duels with irate husbands and jealous lovers to prove it. With his reputation he would have to be the best bloody swordsman in
England.

She frowned at the annoying thought. Then she kicked his shin.

"
Ow
! What did you do that for?"

"I have my reasons."

"Do you care to share them?"

"No." She stuck her chin mutinously in the air.

No matter how much he thought he understood women, they always came up with something totally new and unfathomable to present to the sea of floundering males.

He exhaled deeply, deciding to let the matter pass. There was no telling what arcane misdeed of his had set her off.

"I'll get Cook to pack us some food."

His brow furrowed.
"What for?"

"In case we get hungry during the night."

"
We
?
Who said anything about
we
? You are not going, Chloe."

"Yes, I am." Her finger trailed down the center of his torso.

He stopped her when she reached his navel. "No, you are not; it is too dangerous."

"You just said it wasn't."

"For
me
.
You are not going anywhere near the Black Rose."

"Well, John, if it is too dangerous for me, then it is too dangerous for you, and I simply cannot allow you to do it."

John's jaw dropped. "
What
?"

"I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel." She patted the side of his face consolingly.

The rogue was speechless. No one had ever even hinted at telling him what he could and couldn't do, not even his uncle. "A wife does not tell a husband what to do!" he sputtered.

"This one does." She yawned, snuggling into his chest.

"What makes you think I would ever allow that, Chloe?" he said in a very low voice.

Chloe wasn't the least concerned. She licked his flat nipple. "So you are going to leave me here… with the
Cyndreacs
?" she asked sweetly.

Dead silence ensued.
For several minutes.

"We take one horse, mine. And you'd better be prepared for a long vigil."

She smiled secretly. "I'll speak to Cook about that food."

He exhaled gustily. "It is not a bloody picnic, Chloe!"

"You'll be happy I thought of it; you'll see. I wonder if I should pack an extra blanket…"

John threw his arms up in the air.
"Chloe!"

"Very well, I'll forgo the blanket." Her face lit up with excitement. "This is really intriguing, John. Just think—we might be the ones to discover the Black Rose's identity."

But who will we tell?
he
wondered.

Chloe nibbled teasingly along his collarbone. "How long do you think it will take?"

"To discover who the Black Rose is?"

"No." She laved a spot under his chin. "For you to show me…"

He watched her with an altogether sensual expectation, his clear green eyes sparkling. "For me to show you
… ?"