Chapter Eleven

Adrian went back to the emperor’s villa as soon as Elissa was returned to Blauenhaus. Now he stood at the end of the huge gilt-and-mirrored ballroom, sipping a glass of brandy and fighting to keep the bored expression off his face. For the past twenty minutes, he had been listening to Lady Ellen Hargrave sing his praises and eye him over the top of her pink jeweled fan.

“You were magnificent, Colonel. Simply magnificent. The way you so courageously fought that boar—I vow we should both of us have been killed on the spot if it hadn’t been for you.”

Adrian was beginning to doubt it. He thought, in fact, that Lady Ellen could probably have saved herself simply by chattering away till the big boar spun on its heels and bolted, which was exactly what he wanted to do.

Instead he nodded and smiled and stared across the crowded ballroom, thinking of Elissa, remembering the feel of her body as he had thrust himself inside her in the Roman Room. When an image arose of her elegant breasts and slender hips, his body began to harden, and silently he cursed her, angry that she could make him want her again so soon.

He tried not to think of her embarrassment, the tears on her cheeks when she realized the extent of her passion. Who was she? he wondered. He might not know her name, but she was, he’d discovered, the most intriguing mix of innocence and sensuality that he had ever encountered.

He listened to Lady Ellen, a robust, rosy-cheeked girl with large, rather intriguing, breasts. Another time, he might have enjoyed the view. Tonight his eyes strayed away from her overripe cleavage to the cupid’s-bow mouth that curled up at the corners, all the while thinking of Elissa, pondering her relationship with Steigler, recalling the intimacy the two had shared that could not be mistaken.

Was she really attracted to the man? Some women were. Steigler’s dark, almost sinister appearance, his casual disregard of them, the way he remained aloof, seemed in some way to entice them. Was Elissa the sort to be drawn to his icy persona?

Or was it something else? Something that had to do with the information being passed to the enemy beneath their very noses. He couldn’t help remembering her interest in Ambassador Pettigru. Several times he had seen the man imbibe more than he should have, and each of those times Pettigru had been with Elissa. Was it merely coincidence? Or had she encouraged him, hoping to gain information? And what of the time he had found her coming out of Pettigru’s room?

He breathed a sigh of frustration, wishing he had the answer, and took a sip of his brandy.

“Enjoying yourself, Colonel?”

His head came up. Steigler stood in front of him, a hard glint in his eyes. Still chattering away, Lady Ellen was making reluctant farewells. Steigler flashed her a thin, disinterested smile.

“It appears I am once again in your debt,” he said. “I was told the countess became indisposed while I was ensconced with His Majesty, and that you were good enough to see her safely home.”

A dry smile curved Adrian’s lips. “Yes. By now the lady should be warmly tucked into her bed.” Where he would like to be, Adrian couldn’t help thinking—damn his bloody soul. The woman could very well be a traitor, and all he could think of was hauling her back to his bed.

The general smiled thinly. “As I said, I am grateful. However, I give you fair warning—in future, I shall be the one to see to the lady’s welfare.”

A ripple of tension passed through him. Adrian forced it down. “If that is the lady’s wish.”

“It is my wish. That is all that matters. From now on, the countess belongs to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Adrian’s fingers tightened around the bowl of the brandy snifter he cradled in his hand. “Quite clear, General Steigler.”

Steigler seemed to relax. “Good. Then we understand each other.” His black eyes followed the robust figure of the woman who had just departed. “Lady Ellen seems to have more than a passing interest in you, Colonel. Perhaps you should fix your attentions there.”

“The girl is in search of a husband. Since I am not in the market for a wife, I doubt her father would approve.”

“Lord Hargrave is too busy to notice what his daughter is about. The chance for a bit of diversion might be worth the risk.”

Adrian glanced at the girl. “Perhaps you are right,” he lied, thinking that of all the women he had met, Hargrave’s daughter, pretty as she was, held the least amount of appeal.

Steigler made a slight bow of his head. “I’m afraid I must be off. Good night, Colonel. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

Adrian watched the general leave, liking him less with each of their meetings. Four years ago they had clashed over another woman, an opera singer Steigler was particularly obsessed with. In the end, the general had taken her—once. By force, according to the woman, a fact she never mentioned to anyone except Adrian. She’d wound up bruised and battered—though Steigler had been careful the bruises didn’t show—and sickened by the things he had done.

What would he do to Elissa? Steigler thought her an experienced young widow he could lure into his perverse world. Adrian knew the truth—or at least a small part of it. Until he had taken her, Elissa was an innocent. She was young and naïve and in way over her head with Steigler.

Damn her to bloody hell—if she wanted the man, he ought to let the bastard have her.

Adrian knew without the slightest degree of doubt that until the time came when he tired of her, Elissa would belong only to him.

“So what did your friend General Steigler have to say?”

Adrian glanced up to see Jamie sauntering toward him, his scarlet uniform perfectly tailored to his lean, sinewy frame, a champagne glass held in a slim, long-boned hand. “Something pleasant, I trust.” Ellen Hargrave gave him a long, assessing glance as he walked past.

“The general pleasantly warned me to stay away from Lady von Langen. Apparently, he regards the countess as property belonging solely to him.”

“Somehow I don’t imagine that set well with you … considering you seem fairly proprietary about the lady yourself.”

“I don’t like to share what is mine.”

“Especially not with Steigler.”

“No, especially not with him.” He took a sip of his brandy. “She encourages him. Damned if I know why. I tried to warn her, but I don’t think she’ll listen. She’s a strong-willed woman, determined, and intelligent—but extremely naïve. When it comes to men, not nearly in Steigler’s league.”

“I gathered that.” Jamie sipped his champagne. “Steigler won’t see it. The countess is good at playing the sophisticate with him and the others. With you, she seems different.” He smiled. “I haven’t the foggiest notion why, but I think the lady likes you.”

“Yes … well, she has an odd way of showing it.” Adrian blew out a breath, let his gaze wander over the glittering assembly in the ballroom. “She’s in trouble, Jamie. If she plays with Steigler, she’s going to get hurt. I don’t want to see that happen.”

Jamie studied him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps you entertain more than a casual regard for the lady yourself.”

Adrian merely grunted. He wasn’t sure what he felt for Elissa Tauber besides a strong dose of lust, but worry for her was certainly on the list.

“How did your meeting go in Vienna?” Jamie asked, drawing a return of his attention.

“Not so well, I’m afraid. I was planning to talk to you about it.”

“Now is as good a time as any. Why don’t we go someplace where we can be private? The Roman Room is rarely in use and there is a lock on the door.”

Adrian felt a quick shot of lust at the sharp memory of bare skin and heated kisses. “I was only too recently there. I’m afraid I might have trouble concentrating on the subject at hand. Perhaps the small library would suffice.”

Jamie grinned, knowing him only too well. “The library then.” He motioned in that direction. “After you, Colonel Kingsland.”

With a last sip of brandy, Adrian left the ballroom, Jamie following in his wake.

*   *   *

Elissa spent the afternoon reading in her bedchamber. Everyone at Blauenhaus believed she was not yet recovered from the malady she had supposedly suffered last night. In truth, she was simply a coward, fearful she might cross paths with Adrian, embarrassed at the wild, unbridled passions he had aroused in her in the Roman Room.

Her eyes slid closed against a wave of humiliation, yet no matter how she tried, she couldn’t block the memory of his big hands gliding over her hips, the pleasure of his hard length thrusting inside her. Dear God, she had gone to him resigned to uphold the pact she had made, thinking perhaps she could dissuade him, or simply detach herself from his casual use of her body.

There was nothing casual in what they had done. It was pure, raw passion at its zenith. Worst of all—God help her—she wanted him to do it again. He was arrogant and domineering, self-centered and possessive, yet when she was with him, he could seduce the very soul from her body.

Dear God—how could she be attracted to such a devil of a man?

Whatever the reason, the fact remained that she was.

She wondered what he thought of her, if he spared a single moment thinking of what they had done? He summoned her to care for his needs as if she were his whore, took her with ruthless demand, yet always she felt his care of her. It was there in his touch, in his kiss. In the gentle way he held her when his passion was sated. He had seen her with Steigler—there was no mistaking that—and nothing could disguise his anger.

He could have left her last night when his use of her was ended. If he were truly the unfeeling man he pretended to be, he would have. Instead he had protected her from the gossip that would surely have ensued and seen her safely home.

Elissa looked down at the novel she had been reading, Titan, by a German author named Jean Paul, and realized her attention had strayed. To understand the story, she would have to go back and reread the last five pages. Instead she sighed and put the book away.

It was nearly time for supper said the gold-faced ormolu clock above the mantel. Outside the window, darkness descended on the garden, and a linkboy moved along the gravel paths lighting torches.

Elissa squared her shoulders. She might be a coward, but nobody knew it. Rising from the sofa, she crossed the bedchamber and rang for her maid to help her dress for supper.

*   *   *

Perhaps she should tell him the truth. As Elissa took her place at the long linen-draped table, a seat opposite and two chairs down from Adrian, the thought rolled through her head as it had a dozen times in the past two weeks. She no longer believed he could possibly be involved in any sort of spying. He might be arrogant and demanding, but he was a man of honor, and from what she could discover, loyal to a fault.

Perhaps if she told him the truth about who she was and why she had come, he would help her.

She glanced in his direction, felt his eyes roam over her, penetrating eyes, hot and devouring, yet she had known them to reflect tender care. In the salon where the guests had gathered before supper, he had been excessively polite, pretending to ignore the faint flush that rose in her cheeks, playing the gentleman when his gaze said his thoughts were not at all the gentlemanly sort.

In time she found herself relaxing, allowing him to charm her as he invariably seemed able to do.

What would he say if she showed him the letter she and her mother had received from Karl? Would he believe her, try to help her? God knew she wasn’t good at this spy-catching thing. Adrian seemed good at whatever it was he decided to undertake.

If only she could tell him, make him understand why she’d had to behave as she did, convince him that she wasn’t really interested in Steigler, that she wasn’t the loose sort of woman he must certainly believe.

But as she tried to convince herself, the same unwelcome thought she had faced before came crashing in.

What if he tries to stop me? It was the reason she hadn’t told him sooner, the fear that always held her back. Adrian was a colonel in His Majesty’s Army, and in his own right a wealthy, powerful man. With hardly an effort, he could force her return to England, end the work she had started as if it were never begun.

Even if he promised to help, he might not be able to see it done. The war was cranking up. With Napoleon closing in, such a small detachment of British forces might be in danger. They could be ordered to leave at any time. Adrian would have to leave with them, even if he hadn’t discovered the Falcon. And odds were good, once he knew what she was about, he would refuse to let her continue.

It wasn’t worth the risk. Not yet. Not until she had some proof the man was Steigler.

Elissa took a sip of her wine and studied the colonel from beneath her lashes. Even from a distance, there was an aura of power about him and a hard edge of strength that spoke of the battles he had fought. His gaze met hers, dark green and turbulent, probing till she had to look away. She wondered if he would summon her tonight, and a trickle of anticipation wound its way into her stomach. It was insane, and yet she couldn’t stop the quickening of her pulse or the subtle shift in her breathing.

Pettigru sat in the chair to her right, his attention focused on a thick bowl of liver soup. He turned and smiled in her direction.

“It’s good to see you, my dear. It seems it’s been ages. Your legion of admirers, I suppose, have been keeping you too busy for an old curmudgeon like me.”

“You are hardly old, Sir William.” She smiled at him, warmed by his words. “But you are right—it has been too long. I don’t believe, however, it is too late to rectify the situation. Perhaps we might enjoy a game of chess after supper.” She had missed his company. And earlier she had been thinking that perhaps she could get him to talk about Steigler. Mayhap indirectly, the ambassador could be of some help after all.

“I daresay that sounds splendid. A game of chess would be just the thing.” Pettigru beamed and dug into his soup with fresh gusto.

They finished the meal, their heads bent in pleasant conversation while Elissa ignored Adrian’s scowl. It was harder to ignore Lady Ellen’s blatant interest in him, especially when he turned to face her and flashed one of his devastating smiles.

Elissa glanced away as a sharp, unmistakable pang of jealousy stabbed through her. It shouldn’t have surprised her—she knew how handsome the colonel was and that any number of women were attracted to him. But until tonight, he had never paid attention to any of them.

Fortunately, supper was almost at an end. The gentlemen retired to the green drawing room for brandy and cigars, giving Elissa time to refresh herself and regain her practiced calm.

An hour later, she met Sir William in the library where the chess board was already set up, and with no word from Adrian—she told herself she was glad—they sat down to a long, challenging game before the fire.

They spoke briefly of the war, the ambassador looking almost gleeful about it.

“This coalition could be a major turning point. A fresh Austrian offensive is what we need. The country provides important passes through the eastern Alps and its waterways are vital to transportation. Napoleon needs control and we must wrest it from him.”

Elissa moved a pawn two squares ahead. “Archduke Charles seems more than ready for war.”

“Good ol’ Charlie.” Sir William, chuckled, countering her move with one of his own teakwood pawns. “He’ll do his damnedest, you may be sure, and we’ll do our best to support him.”

Elissa slid her ivory bishop across the board. “General Steigler also seems eager for war.”

The ambassador grunted. “Steigler is a zealot. He would fight even if there wasn’t the slightest chance of winning.”

Elissa cocked a brow at the tone of the ambassador’s voice. “Do I detect a grain of dislike for the general?”

His gaze came up from the board to settle on her face. “General Steigler fights on the side of a country soon to be our ally. I am hardly at liberty to discuss my feelings about him. Since you have asked me and we are friends, I will tell you I have little regard for the man.” He eyed her darkly. “I would advise you, my lady, to consider very carefully your association with the general.”

Elissa looked away from him, her gaze returning to the board. She jumped her knight up two spaces and over one. “I heard he lost most of his family lands four years ago, during the last campaign.” She had heard the story yesterday morning, from Major Holdorf’s wife as she and several others sipped coffee out on the terrace.

Pettigru nodded. “While Steigler was away at war, his father managed to lose what little was left of the family holdings. Fortunately, his rank carries a great deal of privilege, and the pay is enough for a comfortable retirement.” He moved his queen across the board, capturing her bishop. In his next move his castle took her queen. Bushy gray brows pulled together as he studied her over the tall carved pieces.

“You’re not paying attention tonight, Elissa. You’re usually a far better player.” He arched a brow in subtle warning. “Perhaps it would be better if we discussed another subject.”

“Yes … yes, of course.” She forced herself to smile. “Tell me about your wife, Sir William. Have you heard from her lately? How does she fare?”

His easy manner returned as he launched into an accounting of his wife’s latest letter. Elissa smiled and nodded, all the while mulling over his words. So the rumor was true—Steigler had lost whatever fortune his family’d once had. A comfortable retirement might not be enough for him. Money was always a motive for deceit.

Perhaps the general’s zeal for war was in truth merely a cover for his breach of faith. It might be a very thick smokescreen. Enough to cover a very hot fire.

*   *   *

Adrian studied Elissa through the door to the library, wishing he could hear her conversation with Pettigru. As far as he knew, the ambassador wasn’t the sort to be loose with his words, but a woman as lovely as Elissa might be distracting enough—and clever enough—to learn something of value.

Odds were Pettigru had been informed of the leak just as he had. Hopefully the news would be enough to keep the country’s secrets safely locked behind his tongue. For everyone’s sake, Adrian hoped so.

He watched them a moment more, listening to Elissa’s easy laughter, feeling his body stir, wishing he could send another message demanding she come to him, that he could make love to her again. Unfortunately, he had other, more important matters to attend to.

Half an hour later, dressed in simple brown breeches and a full-sleeved homespun shirt, he made his way out to the stables at the rear of the house. Jamie stood waiting, also dressed simply in black nankeen breeches and a muslin shirt, a nondescript bay and a plain-faced sorrel saddled and ready to go. Minotaur and Jamie’s own regimental black were too remarkable, too easily recognizable, for the task they were about.

They were headed to the Bratis Tavern, a seedy, run-down inn on a back road leading out of Baden, a place his questions had led him, a place often frequented by men at the edge of society, men who could be bought for any number of nefarious tasks—if the price was high enough.

It was also a meeting place of the disgruntled, of radical, cynical men discontented with their lot in life. Men who blamed the emperor for their failings, men opposed to the war. It was a good place to begin looking for a traitor.

Adrian made his way across the low-ceilinged smoky taproom to the long, scarred plank bar, Jamie walking beside him, his gaze going right and then left, traveling over the patrons in the dimly lit tavern, silently taking their measure. His friend was lean, but hard muscled and wiry, a good man to have at your back in a place like this.

They ordered two tankards of beer.

“You are new around here,” the innkeeper said. “I do not think I have seen you in here before.”

“I haven’t been often to Baden,” Adrian said simply, allowing his German to slide into the less polished usage of the common man. “I came only to deliver a message.”

The innkeeper, a barrel-chested, black-bearded, hard-faced man, eyed him with cold, squinty eyes. “What kind of message?”

“One that could make a man a tidy sum of money.”

“Go on.”

“Word is, someone may be working the other side of the fence … carrying messages to the Frenchies. The Brits don’t care who’s being paid to carry them. What they want to know is where the messages are coming from. They’ll pay big for that information. Very big.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “Then it is a shame none of us knows anything about it.”

“Yes … a very big shame.” He leaned closer to the man across the bar. “But just in case someone does know something, I’ll check back in a couple of days.” He drew a small leather pouch from his waistband and tossed it onto the bar. The coins clanked pleasantly as they landed. “That’s for listening. There’ll be more if you find out anything useful.”

“I told you, no one here knows anything about it.”

“I’ll be back on Tuesday,” was all Adrian said. He upended his tankard of beer and so did Jamie. They set the mugs back down on the bar and turned and walked out through the low oaken door.

Outside the air was cleaner, smelling of wood smoke and pine, the night air brisk as they swung up into their saddles.

“Think he’ll come up with something helpful?” Jamie asked.

Adrian rubbed his jaw. “Hard to say. The information may not have even come from sources in Baden. The courier was killed in Vienna. The source could have been anywhere.”

“Word may get out that we’re on to him.”

“If it does, it won’t matter. If he’s got information, he’ll want it to get to the French. Hopefully, sooner or later, the money we’ve offered will be enough to lure someone forward—here or in Vienna. We’ll be heading back there in the next two days.”

“What?”

“Word’s come in. That’s what the emperor called Steigler in to discuss last night. Napoleon is moving toward Bavaria. Things are heating up quickly, and the emperor wants to be back at the palace when it does.”

Jamie glanced down the road at the yellow glow of lights in the distance. “Baden will be empty by the end of the week.”

Adrian nodded. “Exactly so.”

“And the countess? Will she be returning to Vienna as well?”

A muscle worked in Adrian’s jaw. He still knew nothing about her, only that she was a liar and perhaps she was a spy. Still, his body hardened just to think of her. He wanted to be inside her, wanted to return to Blauenhaus and summon her to his bed. He wouldn’t, not at such a late hour, but as soon as he returned to Vienna he would take her again. The notion occurred that perhaps he would establish her as his mistress, at least for the short time he had left in the country. He could keep a closer eye on her, and perhaps by then Mahler would have discovered who she was.

“I imagine the countess will be returning to the city with the duchess,” he said. “She’s made no mention of going back to England, though God knows it would be the smart thing for her to do.”

“Certainly it would be the safest.” Jamie smiled. “But I don’t imagine you’ll protest her staying overmuch. It will certainly suit your purpose.”

Adrian grunted. “It will, indeed.” He was glad his friend didn’t know the girl had been a virgin. The amused smile on the major’s face would no doubt be a scowl of disapproval. Jamie was too damned noble. Adrian’s nobility had a very strict limit, and lying little frauds like Elissa fell well beyond the bounds.

Adrian ignored the mocking voice that said he would have taken her no matter who she was. That he had wanted her, and one way or another, he would have had her. The irony was, as he thought of her now, his groin thick and heavy with desire for her, at times it seemed as if Elissa were the one commanding him.

*   *   *

The emperor and empress left Baden two days later, a steady stream of diplomats, military leaders, and aristocrats following in their wake. Francis I was returning to his palace at Schönbrunn, where many of the more important diplomats and military officers would be housed. Others, like Adrian, would be returning to their private quarters in Vienna, in his case, a town house he shared with Jamie situated on Naglerstrasse, a street running along the old Roman ramparts.

The residence was built in the fifteenth century, given a classical façade in the 1700’s, and ornamented with a colored relief of the Virgin Mary sometime later. The interior was elegant, providing large private suites for each of them upstairs, several marble-floored drawing rooms, a library and study, and a staff of servants to take care of them. It felt good to return to the place he had come to think of as home, yet oddly he missed the excitement of Blauenhaus.

Or was it, perhaps, that he missed his challenging, blood-heating, often fiery encounters with Elissa?

He knew she had arrived in the city along with the duchess and that soon he would see her. Though talk of war had escalated and people were somewhat uneasy, Society went on as it always did, as if naught were amiss. A musicale was planned, the affair to be held at the palace of the Duke of Webern, a magnificent baroque structure in the Innere Stadt near the Hofburg palace. Adrian discovered the invitation upon his arrival in a stack of long-waiting correspondence, all of which, he grimaced to think, were in need of some reply.

He’d been late in returning to Vienna, had stayed in Baden to make further inquiries about the possible source of the information leak, but the extra days had proved fruitless. His questions led to naught and no one came forward at the Bratis Tavern. He had left word where he could be reached in Vienna, but he didn’t really believe anything would turn up. He was beginning to think the leak had not originated in Baden.

Or perhaps, considering his suspicions about Elissa, that was simply what he wanted to believe.

At any rate, he would most likely see her at the musicale. He wondered if she had heeded his warning about Steigler, but something told him she hadn’t.

Unconsciously he clenched his fists.