Sweet Revenge Part 39

"Clever girl," echoed Gavin. A pause. "Too clever, in fact." With one hand, he slowly loosened the knot of his cravat. "Lady Spencer didn't know that Crandall was killed in her kitchen. Outside of a very select circle of Whitehall officials, only Lord Saybrook is privy to the knowledge of how the Major really died."

Arianna clenched her teeth, realizing her mistake a heartbeat too late.

"And if he shared it with you . . ."

I'm so sorry, Papa. I thought I was smarter than this.

Gavin tossed the length of linen to c.o.c.kburn. "Tie the she-b.i.t.c.h to the chair. I think it's time we cut through Lady Arianna's lies and extract the truth from her."

Not without a fight, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, vowed Arianna.

She jerked up a knee, catching the marquess flush in the groin.

A yowl reverberated off the rocks as he dropped like a sack of stones.

Hurling herself sideways, she scrabbled to her feet from the overturned chair and darted for the dark opening of the pa.s.sageway. Just a few quick steps and- "Not so fast," snarled Gavin, snaring a handful of her hair. Pain sizzled through her scalp as he yanked her back and punched a fist to her temple.

The shadows began to spin and blur.

Still moaning, c.o.c.kburn crawled to his knees.

"Right the chair," ordered Gavin. He drew his pocket pistol from his coat and pa.s.sed it over. "Use this to keep her under control."

"By G.o.d, I'll blow her brains out," gasped the marquess.

"No! Not yet," exclaimed Gavin.

Arianna felt herself shoved back against the wooden slats. Fear lanced through the fuzziness in her head. She knew she was going to die-and quite horribly. Sweat began to bead on her brow, and strangely enough, she could hear as well as feel the salty drops drip onto her lashes.

Click, click. The sound was unnaturally loud. Like metal against metal.

Clucking in impatience, c.o.c.kburn set the pistol down for a moment to finish knotting the linen looped around her chest and arms.

"First, we need to find out just how much the earl knows," finished Gavin.

A boot scuffed, sending a few pebbles skittering across the rough-hewn rocks.

"Then why don't you ask him yourself?"

c.o.c.kburn lunged for his weapon, but a blast erupted from the darkness, and an instant later a round of molten lead kicked it out of reach in an explosion of shards and sparks.

The marquess screamed and stared down in dazed shock at the blood spurting up from the stump of a finger.

"Drop the knife, Gavin." Saybrook calmly jammed the still-smoking barrel into his pocket and took aim with his second pistol. "Blades make me very twitchy."

Gavin hesitated, and then lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "No need to get nervous." He moved a step closer to the table. "See, I'm just setting it down here."

"Are you hurt?" The earl's gaze flicked to Arianna . . .

In that split second, Gavin grabbed the lamp and hurled it at Saybrook's head.

The earl ducked and the gla.s.s shattered against the chalky walls, splashing hot oil and flames over his coat. A spark set off his weapon, the bullet ricocheting off the ceiling with a thunderous bang.

"Sandro!" cried Arianna, struggling to get free of her bonds. Gavin had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the scalpel and hurtled a fallen chair. Plumes of silvery smoke spun through the slivers of wildly flickering light and shadow. "Watch out! He has a blade!"

The earl dodged the oncoming attack, moving with catlike quickness despite his lingering limp. A swing of the pistol b.u.t.t smashed the nearest sconce as he danced away from the arcing steel.

Gavin slipped on the spattered oil, swearing a savage oath.

"Deja vu," called Saybrook as he ducked low and pulled a knife from his boot. Patches of red-gold fire burned on his coat, painting him in a demonic glow. Sparks flared, catching the curve of his mouth.

Good G.o.d, was he actually grinning? Arianna blinked. That long-ago day of the kitchen duel he had looked like h.e.l.l, while now-now he appeared a lithe, long-limbed Lucifer. An avenging dark angel.

"Watch out!" she cried again, seeing Gavin take up a jagged hunk of broken globe and fling it at the earl's face.

"Don't worry, sweeting." For an instant, a wink seemed to hang on his dark lashes, and then he whirled back with a deft sidestep, letting the missile fly harmlessly over his head. "I'll not need you to pull my cods out of the fire today."

Gla.s.s crunching under his boots, he angled away from the wall, forcing Gavin to retreat several steps. "Give it up. I'm not going to let you escape."

Sweat sheened Gavin's face and the glint in his eye reflected a rising panic. "Give it up? For what-Newgate and a date to dance the gallows jig?" The scalpel slashed through the air, a feint one way and then a quick cut that lanced to within an inch of the earl's chest. "I'll take my chances with a sodding cripple."

"It's your choice," said Saybrook, parrying the thrust. His own blade swooshed back and forth. "I daresay I'd do the same. A noose takes a long time to choke the life from a man."

With a snarled oath, Gavin suddenly pivoted and lashed out with a hard kick, desperation giving his attack added force. "The pistol, Charles, the pistol!" he screamed over his partner's mewling moans. "For G.o.d's sake, shoot him!"

As the earl's leg buckled, c.o.c.kburn started crawling across the floor.

Saybrook dropped to a knee, but as Gavin raised his weapon and cut an arcing downward slice, he caught the other man's wrist and gave a vicious twist.

A last frantic jerk and Arianna finally broke free of her bonds.

Too late? Too late?

The marquess was already reaching out for the weapon. . . .

Gulping for air, she dove for the table.

Struggling to break free, Gavin hammered a flurry of punches at Saybrook's face. The earl countered by smashing the hilt of his knife into Gavin's nose. Flailing and kicking, the two of them tumbled to the hard stone floor, tangled together in a bellicose blur of fists and steel.

Arianna dared not focus on their fight. Her fingers found the chamois and its bevy of lethal implements. Thank G.o.d for the theatrical tricks and circus games needed to keep a restive pirate audience amused in her former life. In one sweeping motion, she plucked up a slim two-edged blade, whipped around, and let it fly.

The point spun a quicksilver trail through the dancing dust motes and buried itself deep into bone and flesh.

c.o.c.kburn's hand spasmed, then went slack as he screamed and collapsed in a dead faint.

Arianna rushed to retrieve the pistol.

"Here, here, I'll take charge of that." Saybrook wiped a bloodied palm on his torn trousers. "Your hands are shaking so badly that I fear you might accidentally fire at me." He gently peeled away her fingers. "However unorthodox, we seem to make an effective team in fighting miscreants. Gavin is no longer a danger."

A lick of light caught the gleam of steel protruding from the dead man's throat.

She looked away. "Poetic justice, I suppose."

"Or divine retribution," said Saybrook with unholy satisfaction. "The deities do not like it when mere mortals play G.o.d."

Her lower lip was cut, and as she swallowed, the acrid taste of blood, salt, and grains of gunpowder stung her tongue.

"True," she whispered, and then was suddenly aware of another soft sound melding with her sigh. The slither of wool.

A wave of fury washed over her and for a moment she saw red-a deep, viscous bloodred.

Her kick hit flush on target, but bare toes didn't manage the desired wallop.

"Allow me." Saybrook drew back a booted foot. "Always aim for the jaw. It is a far more effective way to knock a man senseless."

c.o.c.kburn twitched as the muddy leather connected with a sickening thud, and then went very still.

Despite the swelling on her cheekbone, Arianna managed a lopsided smile. "Gracias."

"De nada," replied Saybrook with a soot-streaked grin. And then enfolded her in his arms.

25.

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano I have mixed up a fresh pot of glue, and Luisa has wielded her scissors with great care, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the last batch of my recipes so that I may paste them into these pages. They shall fill the rest of this journal, for I have become quite loquacious in my old age and rambled on longer than I intended. Tomorrow, I shall start a new notebook, for there is still much I wish to record. . . .

Chocolate Chili Bread Pudding 1 tablespoon unsalted b.u.t.ter plus additional for

greasing ramekin

cup heavy cream

2 ounces fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (not unsweet-

ened or extra-bitter), chopped

1 teaspoons sugar

teaspoon vanilla

teaspoon cinnamon

teaspoon cayenne

1 large egg, lightly beaten

cup cubes (1/2 inch) firm white sandwich bread

(from about 2 slices)