At two A.M. Elena roamed Audubon’s house, drawn farther and farther from her suite until she reached the destination that had taunted her for hours. Barefoot, wearing only a gown and robe, she padded into the large, dark vestibule outside Audubon’s private wing. Stopping there in tormented silence, she wondered if he could see her because of some hidden camera, if he might be watching her make a fool of herself. She went to the heavily carved double doors and flattened her hands on them, wishing that the wood could talk. He was just inside, but so far away.
She was still shaken by Kriloff’s visit and the anger between her and Audubon. She had always had trouble with insomnia, because she had learned so early in life to bury her fears and fantasies. So they came out at night in vivid and sometimes frightening dreams, and even when there were no dreams, her body couldn’t slough off the tension. At the institute she’d grown accustomed to napping rather than sleeping, and often spent large portions of the night either reading, practicing ballet, or listening to pop music on her tinny-sounding record player.
Giving a frown of self-rebuke, she turned and, hugging herself, head down in thought, walked back toward the main hall. The doors to his suite opened with a sudden swoosh of wood brushing over soft rugs. She reeled, startled. He stood in the opening, one hand on each door, the light shadowing him. The man belonged in the theater. His natural sense of drama was breathtaking.
He wore black pajama bottoms and nothing else, and there was only a small brass lamp shining in the darkened, vague area behind him, but he didn’t have the disheveled look of a man who’d been in bed. “Is something wrong?” he asked brusquely.
“No. I was just exploring. I can’t sleep.”
“Guilt is a terrible bedmate.”
“So you can’t sleep, either, I assume.”
He held out a hand and coaxed in a fluid, provocative voice, “Come and let me give you the after-hours tour. You said you wanted to see my private rooms.”
She knew what he wanted—information—and that he wasn’t above tantalizing her to change her mood. “I’d like the tour, but I can’t pay the price of admission.”
“Oh, it’s free.”
“I know you too well, Audubon. You are nervous.”
“Calm me down, then. Keep me company for a few minutes. See what you think of the fox’s den. Or are you the nervous one? An honest change of heart is nothing to feel anxious about. Come in and unburden yourself of secrets.”
“No anxiety. No change of heart. My tour, please.” She entered his suite as he stepped aside and bowed, sweeping one arm toward the intimate shadows. Elena clasped her hands behind her back and glanced around casually, while the atmosphere seeped into her blood with disarming power and nearly made her dizzy.
“There’s something about Victorian style that appeals to the sensual side of human nature,” Audubon said, shutting the doors so quickly that the well-oiled snap of the heavy latch echoed in her pulse. The small room, a parlor or library, had an arched doorway on the other side—her escape route? Hardly. It led only to the rest of his private world.
Except for the contemporary news magazines and newspapers scattered among the tapestry pillows of a curving, gilt-edged sofa, or the ebony armoire open to reveal an array of television and stereo equipment on its shelves, the room belonged in the last century.
“You see,” Audubon continued, strolling across richly patterned rugs that nearly hid the varnished floor, “the Victorian era was very straight-laced, even repressed.” He went to a window covered in heavy, emerald drapes and lifted a braided pull rope with a tasseled end. “Velvet drapes. A satin rope. I think Victorian men and women poured all that hidden passion into provocative decorations. The textures are incredible. Come and feel them.”
She floated forward, her hands trembling behind her, her common sense telling her that she knew exactly what he was trying to do and wasn’t fooled. Tempted, but not fooled.
“Yes, very nice,” she commented, scrubbing her knuckles along the curtains, then poking the thick rope with a fingernail.
“I designed these rooms to bring out the worst in my nature.”
“Oh? Are there secret panels everywhere?”
He laughed softly, the sound so plush, she could have lost herself in the sultry depth, as if it were the pillows, the rugs, the drapes. She could lose her control in his voice, in this place. He took her arm and led her toward the inner door. “My hedonistic nature. Under my busy, efficient facade is the heart of a centaur. I was really meant to lounge about naked on huge pillows with a garland of flowers on my head, eating grapes from the hands of a beautiful, adoring woman. Naked also, of course.”
“Centaur. Isn’t that a nasty, half-goat creature?”
“Half horse, my dear, cruel dove, half horse.”
He guided her with the disarming pressure of his fingers and palm on the back of her arm, and her thin silk robe did nothing to hamper the effect. Her breath stopped in her throat as they walked silently down a cozy hall lit by prismed wall sconces. “My bedroom,” he said, gesturing to a wide entrance framed in carved wood. He reached past her with one arm, curving his body around her as he flicked a light switch on the crystal lamp atop a table inside the room. His scent and warmth enveloped her; his broad, furry chest was so close, it brushed her shoulder.
Elena’s knees went weak as she studied a room even more overstuffed with texture and emotion. The bed against the center wall was enormous and black-lacquered, the headboard, footboard, and tall posts designed in a combination of straight and curving patterns. Male and female. And on the mattress was a jumble of scarlet-and-gold brocade and shimmering ivory silk sheets, with large pillows scattered among the turbulence.
“I don’t allow my bed to be made,” he purred. “It’s part of my private delight in laziness.”
That bed was hardly a place to be lazy. Drained, delighted, and unable to budge from too much indulgence, perhaps, but not lazy. And if she came within caressing distance of the covers, with Audubon’s taunting, confident sensuality to push her over the edge … she’d dissolve into his arms and tell him anything he wanted to know, then beg him to do with her as he pleased.
She backed away and glanced about the hall, her head swimming from desperation. “Next?”
She shot a quick look at him and saw that his large, thickly lashed eyes were watching her with determined patience, the challenge barely concealed. “My dressing room.”
They moved farther down the hall. Again he reached past her into a dark entrance. The scent of fine colognes and fabrics added to the basic male appeal of the scent of his skin. The soft overhead light came on.
She looked distractedly into a wonderland of mirrors, closets, racks of clothes, racks of shoes, shelves filled with hats, open drawers spilling linen handkerchiefs and even … a black wicker clothes hamper in one corner, where a single black sock dangled, caught under the lid. “You see,” he said beside her, his voice an amused rumble. “A dirty sock, just as you hoped to find. Aren’t you reassured that I’m human, vulnerable?”
Tears rose in her eyes. “I wish it was that simple. I would love to be reassured. I would love to—” Her voice broke. “But I’m only making a fool of myself. Forgive me for coming here tonight. I must be losing my mind.”
“Elena,” he said hoarsely, and it was a stark change from the teasing, the seduction, the charade. The sorrow in it broke her control, and she turned blindly, intent on leaving before recklessness overtook her. He caught her arms from behind. “Elena, there are a thousand things I wish I could say and do to make you happy.”
She twisted her head to look at him, and he made her lean against his bare chest in the process. She bit back a soft moan and said, “But none of them suits your plans—whatever those are.”
“I won’t hurt you. I swear I won’t.”
Being cared for had never been so tormenting. He didn’t want to hurt her? But he didn’t want to love her, either, or share any part of his life with her. How badly he had hurt her already, without knowing it.
“Please let go of me. Please.”
He dropped his hands but didn’t move away. She was forced to make the hard step out of his reach, when the greedy, reckless part of her soul was demanding that she stay, if he’d have her. He didn’t even want to take her to bed, for fear of hurting her, he’d said. She was some kind of emotional cripple to him.
She walked swiftly up the hall, checking the tie of her robe, pulling the creamy lapels closer over her breasts. She felt as if he’d made love to her, and it seemed strange to be dressed. He strode after her, right on her heels, to the front room. Balanced on the balls of her feet for escape, she stopped by the double doors. “Good night.” She looked up into his angry, sad, hypnotizing green eyes, and nearly sagged against him. “I know you thought I’d admit some fascinating secret. I apologize for wasting your time.”
“If you don’t leave, we’ll be in bed together within the next five minutes, and neither of us will care if making love is an unwise thing to do.”
Knowing what he said was true, she dragged the doors open and stumbled, in her hurry to leave. He caught her elbow to keep her from falling. “Take care, dove.” He sounded miserable. She pulled away and kept going without looking back, almost running down the big, empty hall.
She sat in front of the vanity mirror in her bathroom, trying to apply the eye makeup Mr. Rex had given her. Her hand shook, and she finally laid the mauve pencil down in defeat.
She hadn’t seen Audubon all day. In fact, she’d had to stay in her suite and play cards with Elgiva Kincaid until the florist and caterer had made their deliveries for the party. The party was in her honor. The party that was nothing more than an excuse for Audubon to present her to his curious cronies. They didn’t know about her unusual abilities, so they were probably baffled over their friend’s interest in hiding an average, ordinary Russian secretary. Maybe they thought he had lost a few of his expensive marbles, even.
Cronies. Lost marbles. She was learning American slang. And learning how to dress like a wealthy American woman. She looked over at the long, white taffeta skirt and fitted black jacket that waited on quilted hangers hooked over the door. The jacket had real onyx buttons up the back, and intricate gold piping swirled up the front in abstract patterns.
From her black patent shoes to her new hairstyle she’d be fashionable, just like the women in Audubon’s social set, and no one at this party would gawk at her ugliness. But that didn’t mean she’d impress anyone with her social skills. She didn’t have any social skills.
A few minutes later, Elgiva came to the suite and rescued her from the makeup chores. Elgiva made no claim to glamour, but she achieved it anyway. Her tall, curvaceous body was swathed in soft blue satin, sapphires gleaming in her ears, her mane of auburn hair twisted up in a loose, wispy style.
She plunked down next to Elena on the vanity bench and sang under her breath as she dabbed makeup on Elena’s closed eyes. “My Douglas and I are pregnant! I just told him today.”
Elena gave her a hug. “I’m very happy for you, my friend.”
“I’m 36 years old, you see, and I never had children with my first husband. Twelve years—I was sure it was my fault.” Elgiva’s expression grew wistful. “When Douglas and I married I didna’ know if we’d have any bairns together, and I told him so. The lovely man promised it didna’ matter, but a year ago we decided to try. I was beginning to be afraid nothing would happen.” She patted her abdomen. “But it did happen. Two months. The wee babe is two months along. I waited until it was absolutely certain before I told Douglas.”
“He’s very happy, I’m sure.”
“Happy?” Elgiva laughed with pure joy. “There’s no word to describe how happy we are.”
“I’d like to have children someday. And a husband. I suppose anything’s possible, now that I’m free.” But she didn’t feel very free, or like marrying anyone. Other than Audubon. It was alarming how much that daydream had taken hold of her thoughts lately.
Elgiva put an arm around her. “You look so sad. You do love Audubon, I can see it.”
Elena shuddered with defeat. She could tell Elgiva, at least. “Yes. Isn’t that something? I waited a lifetime to find him, and he doesn’t want me.”
“Nooo, or I must be blind, and Douglas too. And just wait until the old gang sees Audubon with you. Ask them if they’ve ever witnessed the like before.”
“Who are they, really? Audubon is in the business of rescuing people—he told me about it. It’s safe for you to explain a little.”
Elgiva hesitated, then sighed. “The crew you’ll meet are all retired agents of his. All of them had backgrounds in the military or the police before coming to work for Audubon. They worked for him for many years, but none are older than himself. It’s a tough business, and the ones you’ll meet tonight were wise to let fresh people take their places. Though Audubon has never forgiven a one of them for leaving him.”
“Why?”
“They all went off and got married. He will no’ have a married agent working for him—it’s his rule. The work’s too demanding and too dangerous, he says. And too confidential. But it goads him that his old friends left him. He’s like a race horse who’s still racing when the others are enjoying themselves in the pasture.”
“I’ll make them like me.”
“They’ll like you just as you are, lass. Relax.”
Elena smiled as if it was that simple, but she already had a plan. She looked at her slender, tapering hands, pretty by most standards, but nothing special. Tonight, using every control technique she had learned over the years, she’d focus the wonderful power that poured through them. She’d win the friendship of Audubon’s elite circle and prove to him she was worthy. She could hurt herself if she wasn’t careful, but taking risks was what freedom—and love—was all about.
He could only think about Elena, about bringing her downstairs to meet his guests, about making certain they liked her. Not that he doubted their loyalty; each of the dozen men he’d invited here tonight would gladly help her if anything happened to him. But he wanted them to see her as the strong, courageous, beautiful person she was. None of them knew about her unique gift, and didn’t need to know, right now. Maybe later, if the situation became desperate.
But he wanted to preserve her secret, the secret only he and she shared. The men here tonight, and their remarkable wives, only needed to know that Elena was his treasure, even if he didn’t admit she was also his love.
They would have trouble believing Audubon could feel love—blinding, sentimental love. It would have made them choke on their champagne, if he announced it. He wasn’t about to. Better that no one knew, considering how dim the future was. They had heard about Kash, that he was still missing. He was another of the reasons they’d traveled from their far-flung homes to see Audubon.
A glowing amber sunset had just disappeared into the horizon when the last of the guests arrived in limousines from the airport. In the great room that opened into the pool house they talked in small groups, enjoying their reunion the way old soldiers enjoy rehashing battles, the wives listening patiently, as Bernard replenished trays of hors d’oeuvres and tended bar.
Audubon picked a rosebud from an arrangement on a sofa table, tucked it in the lapel of his black tuxedo, then realized his mistake and hurriedly laid the rosebud aside. He stared at vases filled with flowers all over the room. Good Lord, a disaster. The buds would burst into bloom; the blooms would widen until they looked as if they’d been mashed flat.
No. He’d forgotten—Elena had come to her senses. That had been clear last night. She hadn’t been swayed by him. She’d run. He’d let her go. Perhaps the flowers wouldn’t go wild tonight.
Depressed, he moved among his guests with the detached graciousness they knew well and didn’t misinterpret as arrogance. They understood he was happy to see them and welcomed them all. His home had been their headquarters for many years, and each of them had worked there, even lived there briefly, at times.
The former agents were an entirely male group from the old days, and Audubon was always a little sorry he hadn’t begun hiring women until the past few years. He’d feared he’d worry about women agents more than men—an inescapable character trait of his, part masculine instinct, part upbringing. But the women he now employed had added a valuable perspective to the work; women were better negotiators, more likely to settle problems with words instead of force.
Or, in the case of Elena, likely to settle problems with a devastating hands-on power. He eyed the group with a startling new perspective; For the first time, he was glad they were all married and very much in love with their wives. His surge of possessiveness toward Elena would have caused tension, if there’d been an eligible bachelor among the group.
Elgiva entered the room, went to Douglas, who had not worked for Audubon but was essentially his partner, and he swept her up in his arms and kissed her several times while she laughed. Audubon had been waiting eagerly for Elgiva to come downstairs; now he had to force himself not to hurry over to her and demand information on Elena’s readiness.
Douglas was grinning with delight at everyone, even Audubon. Audubon’s mood snapped and he strode over to them. Babies. Married people. Loneliness. Elena. “What is she doing up there, plotting the next Russian Revolution? Is anything wrong?”
Elgiva gave him an exasperated look from her happy place in Douglas’s arms. “She’s ready. I told her you’d be coming up to escort her.” He nodded and pivoted to leave, but she grasped his sleeve. “Audubon, she’s so shy that she’s—I could swear that she’s vibrating. Oh, I know it sounds foolish, but she seems so nervous, no, not nervous, exactly. Agh! Go see for yourself. Maybe she’s coming down with a fever. When I helped her put on her makeup, her face felt hot. You ask her if she’s all right, will you?”
He didn’t have to ask. He knew what was happening—the energy, the heat—but he didn’t know why. If she was gearing up for something, he doubted it had to do with him.
Elena had the suite door open before he finished knocking. She almost winced at the surprised look he gave her. She hadn’t started this important evening on a very sophisticated note, flinging the door back in her anxiety to see him.
“Very, very nice,” he said after a moment, and she realized that he was referring to the way she looked, as his gaze traveled down the short black bodice with its fitted sleeves and the flowing white skirt. He brushed a fingertip across the braided gold design that curled from the stand-up collar down the jacket’s front. “It has a certain stern, Victorian quality.” His voice became husky and sly. “But the textures hint at something sensual, perhaps even wild, underneath.”
His hand dropped to his side. She got herself under control and gave his devastating body, in its devastating black tuxedo, a cool appraisal. Finally her gaze halted on his lapel. “No boutonniere? I told you your flowers would be safe around me.”
“Can you really turn the power off whenever you want?”
She smoothed her skirt and looked away, the danger too close. He mustn’t worry about her and believe Kriloff’s dark hints. “I’m not a toaster, Audubon. I don’t have a switch. But I’m quite capable of taking care of myself and my gift.”
“Hmmm, so defensive. Well, come along. Your party is waiting.” He shut the door for her as she stepped into the hall, then held out his arm. She lightly tucked her hand around his elbow. She looked away from his intense scrutiny and concentrated on maintaining her reserve.
“Very good,” he murmured as they reached the wide staircase to the main floor. “You’ve wrapped a nice little shield around it, haven’t you?” He sounded more angry than pleased.
“For now. Perhaps I’ll start shooting off invisible lightning bolts when I meet your friends. Are any of them unmarried?”
“I’m afraid not.”
They were halfway down the long staircase. He halted, turned toward her, and said with unflustered command, “We’ll find you a suitable man, but not tonight.”
“We? Is that the royal ‘we,’ your lordship?”
“You and I. You asked me to teach you how to attract American men. But not tonight.”
She swallowed a painful little sound and stared straight ahead. She’d asked for that, provoked it. But was he serious? “I’ll try not to be a temptress.”
“A wise decision. The wives will appreciate it.”
Wrapped in brittle silence, they went downstairs and through the opulent central hall to the back of the house. When they entered the great room with all its grandeur, two dozen of the most elegant men and women she’d ever seen stopped their conversations and studied her with what seemed like shocked expressions. Her legs turned rubbery. She gripped Audubon’s arm hard.
Yes, she’d have to give dangerously close to everything, to impress these friends of his.
When Audubon guided her into their midst and began introducing each to her, their names were a blur. She focused on their handshakes, and the puzzled smiles that followed told her they’d felt the comforting warmth, the reaching out. It was the same for the women as the men, a friendly little zap of energy, just enough to make them wonder if they’d really felt it, and be curious.
But there was one man with traces of hideous scars on a kind, handsome face, and the scars caught her off guard. Before she knew what was happening, he had taken her hand to squeeze it politely but she was melding hers to it, the urge to heal those scars racing through her fingertips like a gust of hot air escaping from a vent.
She couldn’t heal them—not scars—there was nothing to fix. She’d worked with scarred people to no avail. But the power reacted instinctively for those few seconds, until she willed it into obedience. She let go of his hand abruptly and curled her fingers shut.
“Kyle, are you all right?” asked his wife, Sara, a petite strawberry-blond with worry stamped on her elfin face. He rubbed his hands together and stared at them. “No more champagne for me. My fingers felt numb, or something.”
Elena coughed. “We Russian women have strong grips. We would do well in arm wrestling, dah?”
The group’s soft laughter was no antidote for the scowl on Audubon’s face. When she met his eyes, he sent a private look of warning her way. She gave him a prim smile that said she would do as she pleased. His friends couldn’t possibly guess what was happening when she touched them, and she would harmlessly create feelings of comfort and goodwill.
And wouldn’t harm herself, if she didn’t let her power get out of control.
After the introductions he took her to a group of sofas in front of the room’s massive fireplace. On a warm spring night there was no need for a fire, and considering her mood, no need for more warmth. One of the men sat down at the baby-grand piano in a corner and began playing a soft classical piece. Everyone else sat down around her.
She clasped her hands in her lap and tried to sound relaxed as she answered their pleasant questions. They only knew that she was a secretary from Moscow; she could be vague about the rest. Audubon was a stern presence who leaned against the fireplace mantel with his arms crossed, watching her through hooded eyes. A fox watching his prey, she thought with anger. Did he think she would embarrass him?
One of the wives sat down in the armchair close to where she sat on the sofa and spoke to her in halting Russian. Tess Surprise, that was her name. She had a headache, but she was gallantly ignoring it. Elena couldn’t. It was begging to be erased.
“How beautiful!” Elena said, and took her hand to admire a ring.
“It was a gift from my husband when our son was born last year. A blue diamond. I have a sentimental fondness for them, and …” Tess Surprise touched her forehead, frowned, then lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. Elena knew the headache was gone. “What was I saying?”
“It’s a lovely ring,” Elena coached.
“Oh, yes. Well, excuse me, I think I’ll run upstairs and see if Clarice is having any problem being a baby-sitter.” She left, looking thoughtful and confused. Her husband, Jeopard, followed her and shot Audubon a questioning look on the way out.
Elena knew people were growing more intrigued now. A giant, dark-haired man sat down in the chair Tess Surprise had just vacated. Everyone talked pleasantly again, and she tried to concentrate on discussing perestroika and glasnost and all the other trendy Russian-American issues, but her hand kept itching to grasp her next-door neighbor’s.
Itching. He had some kind of itching problem, and as long as he sat this close to her, she would feel it on her own skin. When Bernard came by with a tray of glasses filled with champagne, the giant grabbed one and drank it in a gulp.
“Excuse me for drowning my sorrows,” he said to everyone, chuckling grimly. “But I have the worst case of poison ivy in medical history. I chased my wife through the woods last week, and all I have to show for it is an urge to have my legs sandblasted from the knees down.”
“That’s not what you said at the time,” Echo Lancaster commented. She winked at him, smoothed long black hair back with a cinnamon-skinned hand, and smiled at the group. “I was trying to make him feel at one with nature, like a Cherokee. Instead he only feels at one with a tube of cortisone cream.”
Elena rested a hand on his tuxedo-clad arm, as if in sympathy. “You have this terrible ‘poison ivy’ all over you?”
“We’d better not be specific about where he has it,” his wife interjected, grinning.
He tried to smile, but his eyes were riveted to Elena’s hand. “But it was worth the—do you have a fever?”
She was done, thank goodness. With a sigh of relief she drew her hand into her lap and feigned surprise. “A fever? Are you making a joke?”
“I … no, never mind. Too much champagne. I need some air. Excuse me.”
Looking bewildered, he rose and extended a hand to his wife, who strolled with him out to the prettily lighted pool.
“My champagne must be unusual tonight,” Audubon noted from his guardian place by the mantel. “First Kyle comments on it, now Drake.”
Elena ignored him. Someone else had taken Drake’s place. One of the wives, and she had indigestion.
There were two dozen people here, and all of them had some little ache or pain that she could fix. She felt a little tired, but she would pace herself. The evening was going as she’d hoped, even though Audubon wasn’t reacting the way she wanted. His mood worsened as she grew more comfortable and moved around the room, talking to people, touching them whenever she could find an excuse, winning their curiosity and smiles.
He remained a silent, dark force in the background, watching her constantly, his expression just short of being angry, or maybe hiding more anger than she realized. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong, but she knew she couldn’t stop. It began to scare her, because she could feel deep fatigue creeping through her body. But she was pacing herself, and as long as she did that, she would be fine.
As the hours passed, the laughter and conversation surrounded her like honey for a queen bee. Everyone felt wonderful, and several commented to Audubon that she had a way of making people relax, or forget their troubles, or something. She was a success.
A very tired success, now worried she wouldn’t have the energy to climb the stairs when it came time to say good night. She slipped out of the room finally, intent on going to the enormous kitchen deep inside the manor and making herself a strong cup of coffee.
She walked slowly down a narrow side hallway that angled through the back of the house, her feet weighted, her chest heavy with exhaustion. It was a servant’s route, with bare walls and linoleum floors, and she liked the simplicity. Her tormented feelings over Audubon cried out for this calm little place.
“Stop, please. I want to talk to you.”
Audubon. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself, turned gracefully, and waited with a thready pulse as he approached her. His shoes made clipped, authoritative sounds on the linoleum; his head was up and his body wired with tension.
“Yes?”
“What the hell have you been trying to do tonight?”
He stopped less than an arm’s length away, and his fury washed over her. There was pain in him, but not the kind she could heal with her touch. “I have been trying to make a good impression on your friends.”
“I told you these men were off-limits.”
As his meaning sank in, her lips parted in amazement. She leaned harder on the wall, and locked her knees to keep from swaying. “I was just as friendly to their wives as to them. How can you accuse me of … what are you accusing me of? Trying to steal them from their wives? Oh, Audubon.” His name came out with a soft, bitter moan.
“Stop touching them. I don’t care how innocent it seems. I know you don’t have much experience in social settings, or with ‘free’ men, meaning men who haven’t been instructed by Kriloff to keep you occupied, but—”
“But you don’t think I have any morals, either!”
“That’s not true. I merely believe you’re eager to see how much influence you have now that the ugly duckling has become a swan.”
“Are you blind?” Shivering with rage, she wanted to slap him. But hurting him was beyond her comprehension. “Are you blind?” she repeated softly, brokenly, and turned away, leaning her head against the wall. She laughed wearily. “Again, I’m some kind of bird to you. Right now I feel like one who’s crashed. Leave me alone.”
“I’ll say your good nights for you. I think we’ve both accomplished what we intended for this party. Different goals, unfortunately. But it’s over. Take the back staircase and go up to your suite.”
He walked away without giving her a chance to answer, to tell him she was no child to be ordered to her room, that he was proud, stupid, and had no right to be jealous or judgmental. After he left she decided dignity wouldn’t let her use the back stairs. She returned to the main hall, intending to head for the staircase in the front foyer.
“Elgiva, it’s all right. Please, calm down.”
“I’ll get Douglas.”
Elena halted, listening to the anxious female voices. They came from a sitting room tucked into an alcove at the other end of the hall. She went to it as quickly as she could, using the wall for balance. Sara, Kyle’s wife, hurried out of the alcove and almost bumped into her. Elena took her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Elgiva may be having a miscarriage. I’m going to find Douglas.”
In the alcove Tess sat on the floor next to a small couch, where Elgiva lay, her head propped on the armrest, her knees bent and bare feet braced against the opposite armrest. Her beautiful blue gown was a stark contrast against her ashen skin. Tears streaked her face. She had both hands on her abdomen.
“I started having terrible cramps a few minutes ago,” she whispered, as Elena sank to the floor beside her. “And I’m bleeding a little. I’m going to lose the only bairn I’ve ever had—the only one Douglas and I might ever have, for all I know.”
Elena felt as if her bones would turn to soft wax at any second. This was the last thing she ought to do, after such a tiring night. The other things had been nothing but parlor tricks, compared to this. She thought about the danger for the length of time it took her to gently push Elgiva’s hands away and put hers in their place.
Audubon was in his study, brooding, a glass of cognac in hand, when Jeopard found him. They ran to the alcove, where Elena was unconscious on the floor. Tess Surprise held her head and Elgiva held one of her hands, while Douglas knelt beside Elgiva, an arm around her. One of the other wives, a physician, was checking Elena’s pulse. The rest of the crowd waited quietly in the hall.
Audubon groaned under his breath when he saw Elena’s face. It was nearly as pale as the ivory carpet. He sank down and took her hand from Elgiva. It was limp and cold.
“Her pulse is very weak,” the physician said. “I think she should go to a hospital.”
Audubon pulled her into his arms. Her head fell loosely, terrifying him. She was as fluid as a dream in his arms, and as difficult to hold. “Elena,” he begged in a hoarse whisper. “Come back.” He tucked her head against his shoulder and held her fiercely. “What happened?”
He listened in a daze as Elgiva explained. She choked on tears. All she knew was that she wasn’t in pain anymore. Oh, God, he understood now. But why had it put Elena in this desperate state? She hadn’t been like this after saving his life, and that couldn’t have been easier.
Elgiva touched Elena reverently. “The last thing she said was, ‘Your baby is fine now. I promise.’ Audubon, what did she do?”
“She healed you. If she said the baby is fine, then you can believe her. She’s a healer.” He rocked her and couldn’t keep his voice from breaking. “She’s incredibly special.”
There were soft gasps and murmurs from the people crowded around them; men who were shocked by nothing were asking each other and their wives questions about what they’d felt when Elena touched them. Audubon was so frightened that he heard their voices through a veil of shock; inside it were only he and Elena, and everything was quiet except for the barely perceptible sound of her breathing.
“Come back,” he whispered into her ear, urgently. “This isn’t freedom. Don’t go alone. Come back. Stay with me.”
“Her pulse is a little stronger,” the physician noted. “But not good.”
Audubon slid an arm under Elena’s legs. “Someone call Mac to meet us at the helicopter. That will be faster.”
But before he could pick her up, she murmured his name and moved a little. His heart racing, he grasped her chin and tilted her head back so he could study her. Her coppery lashes flickered, then lifted. Even the strange, faded blue that he’d seen before couldn’t make her eyes any less glorious to him. She seemed barely able to hold her lids open, but she looked at him with recognition—and love. “I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said gently.
Her lips moved just enough to let faint sounds through. “No … only rest. Nothing else … helps.”
“Are you sure?” He stroked her face with his fingertips, trying to give back the mysterious force she had said everyone shared. “It will be safe. No one will find you. I swear.”
“No good. Only … sleep.”
“This has happened to her before?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, but not this severely.”
“I still think she should be examined in a hospital.”
“Audubon.” Her voice was so weak that he had to put his ear close to her lips to hear it. “Don’t want … strangers … testing me … anymore. Please.”
“I’m not going to let anyone humiliate you. But I’m afraid that you need medical care.”
“No. I swear. Sleep.”
His chest was tight with fear, but the pleading look in her eyes tore him apart. “No hospital, then.”
He carried her upstairs to his suite. Her breathing was more normal, but she remained slumped in his arms. In the soft light of a Tiffany lamp beside his bed, her skin looked rosier than before, but he wasn’t sure if it was just the lamp’s illusion. She sank into the silk sheets and large pillows with a grateful sigh.
Audubon sat beside her, holding her hand tightly and caressing her forehead with his fingertips. “This is what Kriloff meant. You could destroy yourself unless you’re careful. And you know that. Why did you push the limits all night?”
Her face seemed small and fragile inside the frame of blond hair and ivory pillow. Blinking slowly, her eyelids threatening to stay shut each time, she still managed to look determined. “It’s all I have to give. My value.”
He bent his head and held her hand to his cheek. “No. It’s only one part of what makes you special. You don’t have to use it to be loved.”
“Had to help Elgiva.”
“But the others—no. They would have been drawn to you anyway.”
“I wasn’t … trying to draw the men … the way you thought.”
Audubon shut his eyes and kissed her upturned palm. Her fingers feathered gently over his cheek. The terrible coldness was fading from them. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to share you with them.”
Her whimper was the sweetest note of an inner song. “I love you. No matter … what happens.”
Stunned, he cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Nothing bad will happen. You’re going to rest. I’ll be right here, all night.” Forever. “Try to sleep.”
He reached beneath her and unfastened the top buttons of her bodice, pulled it down her shoulders, and stroked his spread hand along her neck. He wanted to draw her pulse to the surface of her skin, bring her strength back, promise her life. Her eyes opened a little wider, solemn and trusting. With his fingers resting just above her breasts he gauged her slowly moving chest, and every breath of his own was in sync with hers. He leaned down and kissed her. “Do you know? Can you tell? Have you been blind all this time, yourself?”
The blue of her eyes became more vivid as he watched. Small miracles were taking place every second. “Yes,” she whispered. “But would you say it out loud for me?”
“I love you, Elena. I love you, dear dove. And no one is ever going to take you away from me.”
She smiled and fell asleep. Audubon watched her with tears on his face. Promises were planted like flower seeds between them.