Chapter Twenty

They pressed hard for the next several days, traveling up to twenty miles across the rugged landscape. Each night the army set up a makeshift camp, the officers mostly in tents while the enlisted men slept on the ground. The weather continued to hold and there was no sign of rain.

During the journey, Adrian spoke to the men in the general’s command, discreetly asking questions, hoping to turn up something that would implicate Becker or point to someone else. So far nothing seemed the least bit promising. With the archduke’s assistance, he was, however, able to track down Karl Tauber’s commanding officer, Colonel Shultz of the 6th Regimental Infantry, a blond, stern-faced man with wide-set eyes deeply weathered at the corners.

Adrian found him on the far side of camp just as dusk began to fall. Introductions were made and the subject of Karl Tauber introduced.

“I’m a friend of the family,” Adrian said. “I offered to look into Captain Tauber’s murder while I was here … presuming that’s what it was.”

“Tauber was murdered, all right. Shot in the head at close range. His body was discovered outside a tavern called Reiss’s in Vienna.”

“Reiss’s?” Adrian arched a brow as he remembered the Falcon’s courier’s death in that same place. Why hadn’t Ravenscroft known? Then again, with the archduke on the move, communications were spotty at best.

“You’ve heard of it?” the colonel asked.

“I’ve been there once. Not the sort of place I would expect an officer like Tauber to be spending his time.”

“Those were my thoughts, as well. It’s a seedy establishment, and Karl was never one to overindulge in gaming or drink.”

“Do you know why he might have gone there?”

“I wish I did. I saw him earlier that evening and he seemed a little edgy. I asked him if something was wrong and he seemed uncertain how to answer. He said he wasn’t sure, but he might know something later on. That was the last time anyone saw him alive.”

“Did he ever mention a major named Becker? It might not have seemed important at the time.”

The colonel frowned. “Becker? Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he did. He said he had heard rumors, something unpleasant about Becker, but as yet he wasn’t at liberty to discuss what he had heard.”

“Anything else?”

“Only that he hoped to know more in the very near future.”

Adrian pondered that. Unfortunately Karl Tauber hadn’t had a future. “After the shooting, did you ever speak to Becker?”

“Yes, I did. Since Tauber had mentioned him so shortly before his death, I thought it might be a lead. The major was visiting a friend the night of the murder. He had a solid alibi for his whereabouts and I had no reason to suspect him further.”

Adrian nodded, his questions answered for now. “Thank you, Colonel Schultz, I appreciate your cooperation.”

“My pleasure, Colonel. Please pass my condolences on to the family. Karl Tauber was a fine young soldier and a good and decent man. Let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

Adrian left the colonel, intrigued yet frustrated by what he had learned. If Tauber was killed at Reiss’s tavern, the same place the Falcon’s courier had been murdered, there had to be some connection. But what did Becker have to do with it? According to Schultz, Becker hadn’t been anywhere near the tavern that night.

Whatever the major’s involvement, Adrian didn’t like it, nor the fact that Elissa continued to spend time with him, working to establish a friendship. As she had rightly guessed, it was the only sort of relationship Becker seemed the least bit interested in. Adrian would have seen that himself if he hadn’t been so damned jealous.

Becker was a strange, enigmatic man, and more and more Adrian wondered what lay beneath the surface of his almost-maddening calm. He called few men friends, yet he always did his job in what appeared to be a conscientious manner.

Still, several times during the march, the major had ridden off by himself late in the afternoon, returning to camp just before nightfall. Adrian had followed him, watching from the shadows as Becker entered an out-of-the-way tavern along the route the army followed. But there had been no sign of an illicit meeting. Becker had simply sat in the taproom by himself, sipping a tankard of beer, staring off into the shadows.

Adrian thought of him again as he stooped to enter the much smaller traveling tent he now shared with Elissa. She wasn’t there when he arrived and in a way he was glad.

Things had changed between them since the night she had welcomed him into her bed, and as much as it pleased him, it worried him as well. He was growing far too fond of her, letting her get too close. He had always been careful not to let that happen.

He sighed to think of it. Perhaps if he were younger … perhaps if he were a different man …

There was a time it might have worked between them, a time he had wanted a woman to love. Once he had craved a home and family of his own, the chance to build something for the future. He’d been little more than a boy back then, a naïve, callow lad who still believed in foolish dreams.

He was only nineteen when he met Miriam Springer, Lord Oliver’s beautiful daughter. At last, he’d believed, he had found what he had been seeking for so long. He had courted her, then asked her to marry him. He thought he loved her and believed she might love him.

Adrian scoffed at the notion. She had played him for a fool and he had let her. It wasn’t until his wedding day that he had finally discovered the bitter truth—that she cared not one whit about him. She had crushed his heart beneath her dainty velvet slipper and he wasn’t about to risk that pain again.

“Adrian!” Elissa flashed a sunny smile as she ducked into the tiny makeshift tent, too small for either of them to stand fully upright. “I’ve been looking for you all afternoon. Where have you been?”

“I went to see Colonel Shultz, Karl’s commanding officer.”

Pain flickered briefly in the blue of her eyes. “What did he say?”

In the low-ceilinged tent, he sat down on the bedroll they shared, and pulled Elissa down beside him. Briefly, he told her what Schultz had said about her brother, including what a fine man he had been, and mentioned the connection to Reiss’s tavern.

She discreetly brushed away a tear. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. The murders took place months apart. I presume your brother must have found out the tavern was frequented by the courier. Someone must have discovered Karl’s interest and killed him. Why the courier was murdered all those months later, I don’t know, unless someone worried he was becoming too conspicuous. If your brother had discovered the man’s involvement, so could someone else.”

“Perhaps there is no connection. Perhaps the tavernkeeper was right and the courier was murdered simply for cheating at cards.”

Adrian mulled that over. It was a definite possibility, though he rarely believed in such coincidences. He drew her against his side, looped a strand of her hair behind an ear. “I also followed Becker again.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “He did exactly as he did before—made his way to a nearby tavern, then simply sat in the taproom sipping a tankard of beer.”

“Perhaps he is waiting for someone and the man has yet to appear.”

“That was my thinking as well. Unfortunately, there is no way to prove it unless we catch them together.”

“Perhaps you will discover something tonight.”

He arched a brow. “Tonight?”

Her mouth curled up at the corners. “I’ve challenged the major to a game of chess. Apparently he finds the notion of playing against a woman amusing. I’m sure he thinks I shan’t have the slightest chance against him.”

“Perhaps he’ll be in for a surprise.”

She grinned. “No doubt about it. My father was an excellent player and a very good teacher. I shall try not to best him too soon.”

Adrian laughed. “I’ll remember that. If you are that good an opponent, I believe I should enjoy a game myself.”

She brushed a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’ll hold you to it, Colonel. In the meantime, I’ll be certain to set the board up where Becker won’t be able to see his tent, and in the darkness perhaps you can slip inside.”

He smiled, enjoying the excitement he could clearly read on her face. “All right. Perhaps we’ll get lucky. We are certainly overdue.”

But once more they came up empty. Becker’s tent was spartan to say the least, with only a change of uniform and his personal cavalry gear. His portable writing desk contained a single stack of letters and those came from his mother. It seemed a dreary existence, even to a man accustomed to the austere life of a soldier.

Adrian wondered if a man who seemed disinterested in even the most basic comforts might indeed be one who gleaned his excitement from intrigue.

*   *   *

The hot May sunshine beat down on the long column of soldiers trudging forward in the heat. A blistering wind rolled in off the plains, stirring the dust beneath the horses’ hooves, choking off the air engulfing the weary riders.

Leading her dappled gray mare, Elissa walked next to one of the supply wagons at the rear of the column, perspiration soaking the hair at the nape of her neck. Nina walked beside her, looking nearly as bedraggled as she. Riding atop the mare, five-year-old Tibor sat in front of his six-year-old sister, the hot spring wind ruffling the dark hair around his face.

The children were tired and dusty, the day’s march long and grueling. Usually they traveled in the back of one of the supply wagons, but they had grown fussy, bouncing over the rough terrain, and Nina had let them walk for part of the way.

“Thank you for letting them ride,” she said with a soft smile at her siblings. “They love horses. At home they had a pony of their own. He was beautiful, as white as the snow on the mountains. Vada named him Sali.”

“What happened to him?” Elissa asked.

The olive skin tightened over her finely carved cheekbones. “Killed in the fighting at Ratisbon. A cannonball hit the building where he was stabled.” Her big dark eyes stared off toward a stand of pine trees at the edge of the road. “They miss Sali, just as they miss our father. Riding your mare has pleased them. For a while at least, it helps them to forget.”

Elissa’s heart went out to them. She knew only too well the pain of losing a loved one. “What about you, Nina? Sometimes you look so sad. Will you ever be able to forget?”

The dark-haired girl ran a hand through her short-cropped hair, shoving the heavy locks back as if they were her unpleasant memories. “I will never forget. Sometimes late at night, I can still hear the screams of the wounded. The walls of the city were old, no match for Bonaparte’s cannon. The French swarmed in and there was no way to stop them. When things began to look bad, my father sent us ahead, north across the Danube with some of the soldiers. He was afraid of what might happen to us if the town should fall to the French. He never made it out of the city.”

Elissa reached out and took her friend’s hand. “It’s too late for your father, but maybe there is hope for victory yet. Perhaps the archduke will stop Napoleon before he reaches Vienna.”

“Perhaps. He must gather his forces, regroup his army before he can attack. There may not be time to save the city.”

Elissa said nothing. Only the archduke knew what lay ahead. She prayed whomever he trusted would not let the information fall into the hands of the Falcon.

She was exhausted by the time they made camp in the dusty yellow rays before dark. As soon as the evening meal was finished and she had washed their cooking utensils, she made her way wearily back to the tent. Adrian was waiting. One look at the fatigue etched into her face and he pulled her down on the pallet he had fashioned on the floor and began to gently strip away her clothes.

“You’re exhausted,” he said gruffly. Pulling her cotton night rail from her traveling satchel, he raised her arms, tugged the gown gently on over her head, then eased her down on the pallet. “Dammit, you shouldn’t have walked so far.”

“The other women walk. It doesn’t seem to hurt them. And the children loved riding the mare.”

“The children should have stayed in the wagon, and as for you— You have to take better care of yourself or you’ll wind up getting sick. Dammit, I told you this would be hard.”

“I’m not complaining.”

He pulled off his boots, shrugged out of his shirt, and stripped away his breeches. “You rarely complain. I am the one who is complaining.” He lay down beside her on the pallet and curled her against his chest, fitting them together and enfolding her in his arms. “Now go to sleep. We’ve another long day in the morning.”

She told herself that was what she wanted, just blessed sleep and oblivion from the aches and pains of the march. But as Adrian snuggled against her, the muscles moving across his chest with each of his softly indrawn breaths, she knew there was something she wanted more. She wriggled against him, pressing her bottom into his groin, and heard his soft-muttered curse.

“Lie still, dammit. I’m trying to behave like a gentleman. You need to get some sleep.”

She smiled at his hardening arousal. “What if I’m not ready to sleep? What if I am not yet tired?”

His breath caught on an inward sweep of air, then she thought that perhaps he smiled. The arm he draped around her began to caress her breasts, cupping them gently, plucking at the ends.

He bit the side of her neck. “There is a limit to my chivalry, madam, and as usual you have managed to surpass it.”

She laughed softly, felt his warm breath beside her ear. Then he was lifting her gown, running his hands up and down her thighs, stroking insistently between the folds of her sex. She gasped as he parted her legs and slid himself inside her, fitting them perfectly together.

“Perhaps you are right,” he whispered, slowly beginning to move. “We shall both sleep better after this.”

Elissa smiled and gave herself up to the delicious sensations.

*   *   *

His loving left her sated, but even then she couldn’t fall asleep. And neither, it seemed, could he.

“Adrian?”

“Yes, love?” A big hand sifted through the loose curls around her face. Adrian came up on an elbow and she eased onto her back so that she could see his face.

“I want to know something about you. Please—won’t you tell me just a little? I know your body nearly as well as I know my own, but you never let me see inside your mind.”

“What makes you think there is anything to see?” he teased.

“I know there is. I can read it in your eyes. Tell me what you were like as a boy. Major St. Giles said your parents sent you away to school when you were only five. I don’t think you were happy.”

“Were you happy?” he asked.

Elissa smiled. “Oh, yes. I was the luckiest of children. My parents loved each other. My family loved me. I had two handsome brothers who worshiped me—not that we didn’t fight on occasion.”

He chuckled into the darkness. “Nothing is ever perfect, I suppose.”

“What about you?”

He sighed, his breath feathering out against her ear. “I was an unwanted addition to a family that knew little or nothing of love. They sent me away to school because they couldn’t bear the sight of me. They never cared about me and I learned to care nothing for them.”

An ache of sympathy rose in her chest and her heart went out to him. “How could that be? You were only a little boy. You must have been a beautiful child, with your big green eyes and finely carved dimples—how could they help but love you?”

He shook his head. She could feel the tension that tightened the muscles across his shoulders. “My father hated me. Every time he looked at me he was reminded of my mother’s infidelity. I was a continual rub between them, a constant source of irritation. Even my mother wanted me out of her sight.”

Her breathing caught, stayed suspended for a moment then resumed. “Your father … your father wasn’t the man who sired you?”

Adrian lay back on the pallet, a long sigh whispering past his lips. “I never understood what I had done wrong, why they cared nothing about me when they obviously cared so much for my brother—not until years later. I had just turned sixteen the day my mother died. She called me to her deathbed and finally told me the truth. Sixteen years earlier, she’d had a brief affair, no more than several weeks, but the man she had slept with had gotten her with child. Her husband—the man I thought of as my father—had guessed the truth—that the child she carried wasn’t his.”

Her heart twisted. She wanted to touch him, to take away the pain she could hear in his voice, but she was afraid the spell would be broken and he would close himself off to her again. “Does your real father … does he know about you?”

Adrian shook his head. “No, and he never will.”

“But you do know who he is.”

For a long while he said nothing. “My father is the Duke of Sheffield.”

Elissa sucked in a breath, barely able to believe her ears. “Sweet God, the Duke of Sheffield is your father?”

“I shouldn’t have told you. I don’t know why I did. Even Jamie doesn’t know.”

She still couldn’t get over it. Sheffield was one of the most powerful men in England. “His Grace was a friend of my father’s. I have known him since I was a girl.”

Adrian came up over her. In the light bleeding into the tent, she could read his displeasure in the tautness of his expression. “I want your word you’ll say nothing of this.”

“You look like him—do you know that? I never would have thought of it, but now that I know the truth, I can see it in every line of your face. The same strong jaw, the same straight nose. You even have the duke’s green eyes.”

“Your word, Elissa.”

“His son died, you know. He was killed two years ago in a carriage accident.” She reached out and clasped his hand. “You must tell him, Adrian. You’re his only living child. You must tell him the truth.”

“You’re mad. The Duke of Sheffield would hardly appreciate having an illegitimate son foisted off on him at this late date in his life.”

“You’re not illegitimate. Your mother was married at the time you were born.”

“True, but that is hardly the point. Legitimate or not, I’m a grown man now. I’m a baron and a man of considerable wealth. I don’t need a father anymore, and he most assuredly wouldn’t want a son he never knew existed.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“I’ve seen him once or twice.”

“And did you not notice the resemblance?”

“Perhaps I did. I thought it more likely the resemblance was merely in my head.”

Elissa shook her head. “No, ’tis there, all right. I can see it in each of your strides, the powerful way you move, even in the gestures you make. The duke’s son, William, took after his mother. You are the very image of your father.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said doggedly. “Perhaps it would have once, but not anymore.”

Elissa didn’t argue. Adrian was as stubborn as the duke, as well, and odds were he wouldn’t change his mind. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. “Thank you for telling me, for trusting me with your secret.”

Adrian said nothing, just lay back on his bedroll and closed his eyes. Even after he had fallen into a troubled sleep, Elissa watched over him, her heart aching for the lonely child he had been and the father he never knew, wishing she could find a way to ease the pain still lingering inside him.