She moved quietly down the hall, following the sound of music, avoiding the gaze of passing servants, no doubt wondering why she was so close to the kitchens. At the doors, her nerves got the better of her and she paused, letting the image wash over. The roar of the crowd was almost unbearable. Her pulse raced, her body trembled with excitement and nerves. The glow of candlelight softened the image of lords and ladies dancing, conversing, laughing. A variety of brilliantly dressed women with coifed hair, flirting with dashing men in black suits. Such a pampered life of ease. A life her mother once knew. It was like a painting of what heaven might be. She tilted her chin high in the arrogant manner she’d seen before from ladies shopping in Paris. She didn’t have time to stand and gawk.
Swallowing over the lump of anxiety clogging her throat, she stepped into the room. She didn’t wait for someone to recognize that she didn’t belong. Instead, she moved around the perimeter of the room, hiding in the shadows, looking for the best way upstairs because she knew… had seen… the statue tucked behind a bookcase in a room on the second floor. She hadn’t a clue how to dance. She sure as hell didn’t have an invitation, but that didn’t stop her from attending the ball.
A man strolled by. Adelaide froze.
He smiled, nodded. “Good eve.” And he moved on. She released the breath she held and continued around the room. How silly she was! She’d never been so nervous, and she’d dealt with murderers!
She rested her gloved hand on a marble column and closed her mind to the festivities before her. Immediately, she delved into the darkness and for a brief moment and it came. Flashes…pictures of what would happen. A puzzle she must fit together. She saw him chasing her, she saw him stopping, watching in horror as she cradled the statue close and jumped from a window. And then… then the vision ceased because she either wouldn’t make the leap or because that was all he could see. It was a chance she was willing to take.
Someone bumped into her, throwing her off balance. Adelaide opened her eyes, gasping.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” a male voice said. An older man with silver hair and dark blue eyes looked down at her with curiosity.
“Tis fine,” she released a shaky laugh, stumbling to regain her balance. “I’m…”
He reached out to help, his firm, gloved grip resting on her arm. The moment he touched her, an image flashed to mind.
A church, the very man before her coming closer… closer, wrapping his hands around her neck.
Adelaide’s blood went cold. She jerked back, away from him.
His gaze narrowed. “Are you well? You look pale.”
“Non, no. I’m well. Thank you.” She spun around and dove into the crowds, bumping against guests in her haste to escape. “Excuse me.”
Her heart hammered madly, threatening to make a mad leap from her chest. The future wasn’t written in stone, she had to remind herself. She could change the future, the future could change. Still, Adelaide couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. The man stood there watching her. Fear coursed like chill ice-water through her veins, a shiver that made her entire body tremble. She spun back around and her gaze focused on a handsome face, familiar dark hair…familiar smile…
He stood chatting with another man, oblivious to her. And she felt his hands on her once more, his lips to hers, his cock inside her. Her body aching, needing, melting. She pressed her hand to her racing heart.
Dear Lord, she was trapped. She could run across the ballroom floor, right between the dancing couples and draw immediate attention to herself. She could turn around and move by the very man she had seen strangling her. Or… she could head toward the lesser of three evils.
And so she waited, waited for him to notice her. And he did. Slowly, the man who had stolen her statue, the man who had kept her up the last three nights with disturbing dreams of his mouth on hers, his body on her, in her… slowly, he turned and his gaze fastened to her.
His smile quivered the slightest, his eyes narrowed ever so much, but other than that, he didn’t react. Did he recognize her? His gaze moved down her body, paused, then jerked back to her face. Ah, yes, he recognized her. Smirking, she lifted her hand and gave a little wiggle of her fingertips. Bastard, if not for him, she would have sold the statue and her mother would be living a life of luxury right now.
He started toward her. Her pulse jumped, but she stood her ground. She couldn’t run, if she ran he’d call the alarm. She’d draw suspicion. No, she’d use her wits, and perhaps her flirting abilities, to get out of this mess. The closer he got, the faster her pulse raced. Those eyes…those impossibly dark eyes kept her pinned to the spot. When he was only a few feet away, her entire body seemed to melt.
“Well, imagine seeing you here.” He paused closer than was proper. So close, he would surely draw notice. “Am I correct in assuming you weren’t invited?”
“Correct,” her voice came out breathless.
He nodded slowly. “You look lovely.”
She wanted to scoff at his words, to make light of his compliment, but the heated look in his eyes prevented her from saying anything. She had a feeling he actually meant what he said. She had a feeling that even now he thought of their kisses, the moment they’d shared. She’d certainly received lustful glances before and had even been kissed a time or two. One didn’t live where she lived and not be groped upon occasion. But never…ever… had her own body reacted so, lighting within so she thought she might catch fire.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, holding out his gloved hand.
“I can’t… dance, that is.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just follow me.”
“No, I…”
He latched onto her arm and pulled her toward the twirling couples. She felt his touch all the way to her core, her knees growing weak. Frantic, Adelaide stumbled over her feet. Merde, she could barely walk in his presence, how would she waltz? She should have dressed as a servant instead. She could have grabbed the statue and disappeared into Paris. If she pulled away now, he would cry the alarm.
As more and more people glanced their way, she realized how startled she must have looked and quickly lifted her lips into what she hoped was a serene smile. She had danced before. When she was young her mother had taught her. How wonderful that time had been, eagerly awaiting father’s visits. But then Papa had stopped coming. No money. Her mother growing sadder…weaker. She’d been eight the last time she’d seen her father. Until this past summer at the temple in India. The worst had been realizing her father hadn’t recognized her. She brushed aside the thoughts as the man before her wrapped a steel arm around her waist.
“What is your name?” she asked. “Tis only fair you tell me.”
Those hard lips lifted into a smirk. “Fair? Are we playing fair now?”
“I’ve always been.”
He twirled her, the movement so quick, she had to tighten her arm around his shoulder. “James,” he said. “Since I owe you that much.”
She tried to keep control of her thoughts as he twirled her around the room, her feet barely touching the floor. “You owe me the statue you stole. My statue. ”
He lifted a brow, sweeping her in a circle. “Really? Your statue?”
“Yes.”
His hand tightened on her back, pressing her closer to his hard body. His thighs brushed against hers as he turned and spun her around and around. Her breasts… lord, her breasts were crushed indecently to his chest. The soft mounds grew heavy, her nipples hardening and she prayed he didn’t notice. Memories of the other night flashed to mind. The aching need flared to life once more.
“Tell me, my dear Adelaide,” his breath was a warm temptation across her face, “how it is that you know many things you shouldn’t, such as where to find me.” Idly, his thumb rubbed her back in slow, gentle movements. The touch made her confused, lightheaded, and the constant spinning didn’t help. The room was becoming a blur of candlelight and colorful dresses.
Yet, she felt oddly right in his arms and the thought left her bemused and somewhat annoyed. “Luck?”
He laughed softly. “I doubt it. If you know so much, then you probably know that I have nothing to do with the statue. I was hired to get the piece for Lord Emery.” He glanced at the man and she followed his gaze. The man who had bumped into her. The man who made her blood run cold. Lord Emery stood on the side of the room, watching them.
“Ah, so you’re completely innocent.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but deep down her mind screamed at her to run!
“Of course.”
A sudden shout burst through the crowded ballroom. A cry for help from the far corner. Dancers paused, bumping into each other. James froze, his grip on her tightening as he jerked his head toward the sound. Fear swept through the room like a wave in a storm. Adelaide didn’t even flinch. She’d known it was coming. Had known the servant would trip and send the candles into the curtains. She’d had the vision last night.
Guests gasped, horrified. Women stumbled back, as far away from the flames as possible, knowing their wide dresses would be easy prey. Men stumbled forward, shouting for help and eager to prove their worth. Fires were all too common, they knew the damage that could be done.
James dropped his hold, just as she knew he would. She didn’t need a vision to know that James would not run from fear. “I’ll be just a moment.”
She didn’t pause. The moment he turned his back to her, Adelaide fled, pushing her way through the crowds. No one would notice her now as she hiked up her skirts and rushed up those main stairs to the second floor.
Even as she reached the corridor with the many, many doors that led to bedchambers, she could still hear the panicked screams below. She knew the servants would get the fire under control and only the curtains would be lost. Her worry was not for the curtains, but for herself. Servants rushed from rooms, carrying their owner’s valuables. Not one glanced her way.
Breathless, Adelaide stopped outside the last door in the hall. It was there, she could practically feel the power vibrating from the room.
She shoved open the door so hard it bounced against the wall. Quickly she took in the large room, the massive four-poster bed. She knew she had only moments. Knew that James was on his way up here even now. Heart hammering wildly, she dashed to the bookshelves that lined the far wall.
With trembling fingers, she searched the novels. In her vision last night she’d seen him replacing a certain book… there! The History of Botany. She pulled the book from the shelf, letting it fall to the ground with a thud.
The golden statue unveiled, having been hidden at the back of the shelf. She pushed a few more books aside and grabbed the statue. Power practically shimmered from the piece. Was it her imagination or did it seem to glow? She cradled the heavy statue to her chest and moved toward the windows. She didn’t have time to admire her treasure. Nor did she have time to contemplate the mysticism of the piece.
She wrapped her hands around the brass handles and pushed the windows wide. A chill breeze swept inside, fluttering the curtains and the skirt of her dress. A chill wind that sent shivers over her skin. The ground below wavered in and out of focus. But there… at the bottom… shimmered a pond. Adelaide bit her lower lip. Dare she jump? Merde, why must she always be leaping into water or jumping out windows? Cursing her bad luck, she managed to climb onto the window ledge, balancing her skirts and the art work in hand. Only two floors up, it wasn’t that far. She wouldn’t die, would she?
She felt James enter the room, felt his very presence like a caress. Adelaide shifted. The very air seemed to change, to grow heavy, thick, making it difficult to breathe. “Don’t come any closer,” she warned without looking back at him.
“I will find you,” James hissed, his annoyance almost palpable.
Adelaide grinned, her body warming at the thought. “Looking forward to it.” Taking in a deep breath, she jumped.
Chapter 4
James stood outside the shack, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. This couldn’t be her home, a place infested with poor. Rats streaming down the streets, children with dirty faces begging on the side of the lane. The poverty practically hung in a cloud that hovered over the area. He felt oddly… stricken. Stricken in a way he didn’t want to contemplate.
“De l'argent,” a little girl demanded, shoving her dirty hands toward him.
He sighed and flipped a coin into her palm. Her narrow face flushed with greed and she shoved the piece into her pocket, then bolted into the darkness. So young, yet she knew the value of a coin already. At what age would she start selling her body? Perhaps she’d find a way to save herself, as Adelaide had, until he had taken her.
He hadn’t been expecting this. He hadn’t been expecting a place that reminded him of his childhood. He clenched his jaw and hardened his heart. A professional thief like her… if she lived here it was of her own accord. He pushed the door wide and with determined steps, he made his way up the stairs of the rickety building, wondering if it would collapse under his very feet. The stairs shook, the walls paper-thin, he could hear people coughing, babies crying for nourishment. Cries of pain that chipped at his black soul. He reached the third floor and paused, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments.
Too familiar. It was all too familiar. He took in a deep breath through his mouth. He told himself he would not be pulled back in, even as his mind slipped to the past, even as his entire body changed, recognizing a place where he truly belonged.
“Enough,” he hissed to himself.
He waited no longer, but lifted his fist and knocked. No one responded. Not surprising. The little thief was probably out pickpocketing. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden door handle and pushed. No lock. The door easily opened, hinges creaking, wood groaning in protest, but not one living soul called out, demanding to know who was there.
James stepped into the darkness, closing the door behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust. A small room, barely able to fit the bed and side table. A lantern glowed softly on that table, the flame so low it did little to light the room. The air was chill, wind seeping through the two windows that interrupted the far wall. Even though small and lacking, the room smelled clean, looked clean. Certainly cleaner than the rest of the building. But there was something beyond that scent of cleanliness, a bitter scent that jarred his memory. The scent of medicines. Illness.
“We have nothing to give you,” a weak voice murmured. “But you can look, if you don’t believe me.”
Not Adelaide. The French accent came out harsh with age. James turned and found a shadow of a woman sitting in a chair where the light did not reach. In two strides he made it to the lamp and lifted the wick, sending the flame higher and the light bursting across the room. The old woman flinched. She was small, delicate, weathered. Her long, dark braid was peppered with gray, her face pale and haggard. But there… in her defiant eyes he saw her beauty. A woman who had been elegant at one time. Who had, no doubt, incited poetry. That pert nose, those large eyes surrounded by thick lashes, Adelaide got her looks from this woman.
“You’re Adelaide’s mother?”
She nodded. “She is not here.”
Obviously. There was no place to hide in the tiny abode. Surely Adelaide and her mother didn’t live here. But he had a sickening, dreadful feeling they did. He’d admired the woman for her cunning. He’d lusted after her because her body made him react in a way he never had before. But now, damn it all, she was making him feel. Feel true, real emotions when he’d tried too damn hard to build that wall around his heart.
The old woman started coughing, a wet, rattling cough that didn’t bode well. James reached for the pitcher and glass on the side table, and poured. In three steps he was at her side.
She sipped the tepid liquid, holding the cup with thin, pale hands. Closer, he could see what he’d imagined was true; she had been beautiful once. Still was now, if she put on a few pounds. Her fine boned features spoke of nobility, fi
ne boned features that Adelaide possessed.
She smiled, a trembling smile and handed him the glass. “You’re wondering about me, I can see it in your eyes.”
James stepped back a few paces, giving the woman her space. “I’m wondering where your daughter is with my statue.”
“Yours?” The woman clutched her shawl more tightly to her narrow shoulders. “She claimed you stole it from her.”
Was that guilt that crept through his body? Shite, he never felt guilty. He had destroyed the emotion long ago…or so he’d thought. Treasure hunting was a business and he would not let his emotions get involved.
“Tell me,” the old woman continued, looking him up and down in a haughty manner. “Your clothing is fine, your body strong, what need you of the statue? Can you not make your own living?”
He parted his lips to argue, but wasn’t even sure what to say. Suddenly, the entire bloody statue seemed ridiculously unimportant. Hell, he was tired of it all. Tired of the constant danger he found himself in. Tired of working for others, hunting down silly insignificant treasures that in the end, really didn’t matter. “I was hired to find it.”
“Yes, but why did you take the offer? My Adelaide, she risked her life on a journey for that statue. Why? For me. So that I might have the doctor I need. So that I might have the life I once knew. She never told me, but I know.”
The guilt surged and his annoyance flared. He certainly didn’t need to stay here and listen to this nonsense.
“I was wealthy once, you know. But I left my family for a man I loved, who didn’t love me as much as I thought. Dear Adelaide has taken care of me since. I can only pray the same doesn’t befall my child.”
Hell, yes, he felt guilty. But really, what was he supposed to do? Besides, Adelaide didn’t love him. She barely knew him. “I am sorry, but I must make a living as well.”
“By stealing from a woman?”