The Black Rose Read online

  "Maybe now you see what I suffer here in this ruin of a kitchen," the Frenchman snapped, at the same time pressing a dampened wad of linen into her hand.

  Just then a shrill cry exploded from the opposite corner of the room. "Hove to starboard!" the voice screeched. "Rocky shoals ahead!"

  "Hush, Maximilian," Tess hissed at the large emerald and crimson macaw stamping upon his perch by the window.

  "And that bird!" Edouard exclaimed. "I suffer much for you, mademoiselle, because of the goodness of your heart. But as to this one," he threatened, stalking toward the gaudy bird, "I will make me a nice tarte de perroquet with him, and soon!"

  Hurriedly Tess stepped between her irate chef and the screeching Maximilian. "Come now, Edouard. That will not help us with our problem. Perhaps you should show me exactly what the difficulty is. We managed quite nicely last time, as I recall."

  The rotund little Frenchman snorted. "Only because your Monsieur Hobhouse is a genius with his fingers to make the repairs. But this time, par Dieu, the brute is beyond even his skill!"

  "Beat to quarters!" Maximilian cried, ruffling his feathers and puffing out his cheeks. "Enemy ships to starboard!"

  A moment later the kitchen door swung open noisily on its hinges and a tall, blond gentleman in an emerald satin waistcoat peered into the room. "There you are," he said in some surprise, his green eyes sweeping Tess's soot-stained face. "Hobhouse did not seem to know what had become of you, my dear. I confess, I did not expect to find you here." The fair-haired man smiled chidingly, his bright waistcoat gleaming in the sunlight from the window.

  Lord Lennox was immaculate as always, Tess noted uncomfortably, aware of exactly how disreputable she must look by comparison. After giving her cheeks a surreptitious scrub, she looked up. "How good to see you, my lord. But when did you return? You were to have remained in London for a month, as I recall."

  The keen eyes darkened. "Dare I hope that means you've missed me?"

  "You may hope whatever you like, my lord," Tess answered, smiling. "But now you must let me go and repair this damage, for I fear I look the worst sort of urchin."

  Cool fingers grazed her flushed cheeks. "You look, my dearest Tess, enchanting — sooty cheeks and all. As you always do. I know I promised to stay away and give you time to make up your mind, but I offer you fair warning: I mean to harry you until you accept my proposal."

  Tess stiffened, aware of the unnatural silence that fell over the kitchen behind her. Suddenly she felt four pairs of eyes trained upon her back.

  With a clanging of silver, Edouard recalled his staff to their duties. "Vite! Vite!" he snapped to the trio of gawking kitchen maids. "The patisserie — or what's left of it — to Hobhouse! All the other trays to the coffee room! Depechez-vous!"

  "I think, my lord, that we had better discuss this at another time," Tess said quietly.

  Behind her came a muffled snort, which she resolutely ignored. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Edouard shooing the kitchen maids to the door.

  Then she and Lord Lennox were alone.

  Frowning, the earl studied her pale face. "You haven't been sleeping well," he murmured, his broad brow furled. "I can see it in the lines about your eyes. All of this is far too much responsibility for you, my dear. You should be dancing till dawn and doing nothing more strenuous than taking chocolate in bed when you rise at noon. And then there's all the work yet to be done at Fairleigh." His voice dropped, becoming more urgent. "Let me bear some of the responsibility for you, Tess. I'll oversee the workmen at Fairleigh. It would give me great pleasure to see the house restored to its old grandeur. And then I'll look about for someone reliable to manage the Angel for you." Lennox's eyes were warm on her face as he took her hands in his. "Hobhouse, even — though I'm certain the curmudgeon would cheat us horribly."

  Gently Tess pulled her hands free. "Dear Simon. Your offer does me great honor —"

  "Honor?" the earl snapped, his eyes flashing. "I love you, damn it! Can't you see that? You drive me to complete and utter distraction!"

  "Please, my lord. I — I must have time to think," Tess stammered, her hands restlessly pleating the top of her apron. "It's not just me, you understand. I have the staff to consider. And there's Ashley too."

  "I hardly see how the matter affects him. He's taken no interest in Fairleigh or the Angel."

  Tess sighed. "No, he hasn't, has he? But he might, if things were to change suddenly. At any rate, I must at least discuss the matter with him."

  Lord Lennox raised her hand to his lips and feathered a light kiss across her palm. "I only pray you may not take too long, my dear," he said softly. Some indistinct emotion skittered across his face; slowly he bent and brushed her lips with his.

  Tess stood unmoving, her thoughts awhirl.

  Perdition! What kept her from accepting his offer? Lord Lennox was the catch of the county — handsome, rich, and kind. Why didn't her heart sing at his attentions?

  "Hard about!" Maximilian shrieked, dancing upon his perch. "Dangerous shoals ahead!"

  "Such an affecting scene."

  Tess stiffened at the sound of that cool, feminine voice from the doorway.

  "As always, my sister's timing is deplorable," Lennox said dryly, never taking his eyes from Tess's face.

  "Quite right, my dear," Lady Patricia Lennox agreed. "I ought to have arrived much sooner." Her voice hardened. "Then I might have prevented you from making such a perfect ass of yourself."

  Quickly Tess took a step backward, a hot tide of crimson flooding her cheeks. Angry words sprang to her lips.

  "Please forgive my sister, Tess," Lennox said, squeezing her hands gently. "She is a spoiled, ungrateful brat, I'm afraid. What she needs is a husband who will beat her on a regular basis."

  "If you say so," Tess said stiffly, wrenching free of his grasp.

  "In this instance my brother is decidedly correct, Miss Leighton. But I had something else in mind for the man to provide — on a regular basis. Although a touch of savagery is never amiss."

  "Patricia," Lennox hissed. "You forget yourself."

  His sister's green eyes glittered. "We are all adults, I trust. There can be no harm in a little plain speaking between adults, surely." Her sharp nose twitched suddenly. "But whatever is that horrid smell? Have you a decaying fowl hidden about the kitchen, my dear?"

  Tess scowled, thinking the description entirely apt for Lady Patricia herself. "Horrid smell? I perceive nothing beyond a little smoke. But since this place so offends you, Lady Patricia, I would not dream of detaining you further."

  Lord Lennox's sister quirked one fair eyebrow. "One feels so out of place in a kitchen, of course. But I am waiting for you to escort me home, Simon. Or have you forgotten your promise already?"

  The earl suppressed an irritated sigh. "No, I hadn't forgotten." He looked down at Tess in silent apology, gathering her hands once more into his. "Remember what I said, my dear," he murmured searchingly.

  Tess could feel his sister's eyes burning into her neck. "I will give it careful consideration, I promise you, my lord."

  Reluctantly Simon released her hands and walked to the door, where Lady Patricia was already making ready to leave.

  "Oh, I very nearly forgot," the lushly endowed blonde said silkily, turning back toward Tess. "We are having some friends down from London next week and I should like to offer them your pates garnis. Our chef has been demanding your recipe this age, I vow. I really must send him over to speak with you. You will be a dear and help him out, won't you? You are so good about these things — I can't imagine it taking over an hour or two of your time."

  Tess's eyes flashed gray-green sparks. "Indeed? But how singular. My great-great-grandmother might have asked yours the same question, when she was at the court of Charles II. Your title was conferred by that monarch, was it not? For services rendered in his kitchen, as I recall." Tess halted, her face a picture of exaggerated innocence. "Or was it for services rendered in his bed?"

  "Why,
you impertinent little slut!" Lady Patricia blazed.

  "Enough, Patricia! You only receive what you deserve. Go and wait for me in the carriage!" Lennox's face was set in hard lines.

  With an angry snort, his sister whirled about and stormed from the room.

  "Forgive me," Tess said stiffly. "My unruly tongue again. I forget that in attacking her lineage I also attack your own. It is just that you are so different. In fact, sometimes I forget you are related at all."

  Lennox's fingers skimmed Tess's still flaming cheek. "On the contrary, it is I who should beg forgiveness for my sister's behavior. You did no more than respond to her provocation. I assure you it won't happen again, however. When we are married —"

  "If we are married," Tess corrected.

  Lord Lennox's eyes darkened. "When," he countered firmly. "For I give you notice, my dear. It is only a matter of time."

  * * * * *

  Strangely distracted, Tess made her way back to Hobhouse's office to confer on the day's schedule. The conversation with Lord Lennox had disturbed her more than she cared to admit, but already other problems were weighing on her mind.

  Very soon she must encounter the inn's newest arrival, she knew. At that thought Tess's chin rose determinedly. Let him come then. She would teach Viscount Ravenhurst that he held no place in her heart!

  As for the range, she could only pray that Hobhouse would show his customary dexterity and succeed in shoring up Edouard's fragile emotional state a while longer. Which still left the delicate matter of disposing of the high-proof brandy, Tess's share of the last runs. As prearranged, the kegs had been concealed beneath a delivery of flour and vegetables brought in by Hobhouse at dawn.

  Right now the contraband was resting in a hidden recess behind her bed.

  Tess's full lips curved in triumph. Tonight she would transfer the brandy into old, dusty bottles and recork them carefully. By tomorrow there would be no trace of the contraband.

  But until then, she knew she would have to be very cautious. With five hundred pounds on the Fox's head, men's tongues might suddenly become very loose.

  Not finding Hobhouse in his office, Tess walked slowly back to her workroom at the rear of the inn. En route, she peeked into the kitchen, surprised to see the big room empty and silent. Even Maximilian was gone, she noticed, probably carried out to entertain some revelers in the taproom. Then Tess heard shouts from the courtyard, followed by Edouard's rapid-fire directions to the staff. They were unloading a wagon of provisions, she realized, and the chef was seeing to the goods' placement in the stillroom. That mystery solved, she continued through to the small workroom where she kept her account records and received tradesmen.

  Realizing she would have a few minutes of peace, Tess sat down beside the window and pulled out her account book. Swiftly she totalled the long columns. One hundred fifty pounds spent last month alone! At this rate she would never get out of debt.

  Still, last night's brandy would fetch a good price in London, and there were four cargoes of tea and silk from last month for which she would soon be paid — into an anonymous account in London, of course.

  Tess frowned, biting the end of her quill as she tabulated the final profit. With luck, those should net a little over two hundred pounds. This was some progress, at least, though not nearly enough.

  Somewhere mid-page her eyes strayed from the long line of figures. Sunlight streamed through the window and she could see the soft outline of distant hills, lush and green after last night's rain.

  A cold current of air brushed her cheek, fanning a long strand of auburn hair across her shoulder. Tess stiffened, feeling the presence of someone in the doorway.

  The tension in her shoulders, the drumming in her veins told her there could be only one person standing behind her.

  She had known she must face him soon. But now that the time for reckoning had come, Tess found herself no more in control than she had been in the dark alley the night before.

  "Turn around, Tess," Lord Ravenhurst growled from the doorway. "Let me have a look at you. Yes, let me see if you're still the same calculating little bitch you were five years ago."

  Chapter Five

  Tess did not turn around.

  Instead, her heart constricting painfully, she closed her account book and laid her pen down beside it. Carefully she straightened a ruffle at her cuff and then brushed a tiny speck of flour from her fingers. Only then did she pivot in her chair to face the intruder.

  And still the sight of his cold, bitter face and sea-dark eyes came as a shock to her.

  The face of the man she had once loved.

  Now the face of a brutal, implacable enemy.

  He was dressed in a loose white shirt, its neck opened low to reveal bronzed skin and a lush mat of black hair. Gray breeches hugged his long, muscular thighs, disappearing beneath top boots polished to a mirror-like sheen.

  But it was his face that arrested Tess. How different it is, she thought. Darker, harder. More deeply lined. Yes, long years of war had left their mark on that face. On that voice, too, which now held a rough, gravelly timbre that had not been present five years ago.

  The total effect was one of harsh contrasts. Beneath that thin veneer of civilization, Tess realized, there lay a ruthless stranger — someone by nature and training both savage and unpredictable.

  Right now an air of wild recklessness emanated from his confident posture, from his broad shoulders pressed against the doorframe, from the big hand that rode at his hip while his lapis eyes burned across her face.

  There was violence in his harsh face and violence in his cold, ruthless eyes. Everything about the man screamed "danger."

  Suddenly Tess froze, seeing the streaks of white hair at his temples.

  So he, too, had felt the passage of time, had he? But not nearly so much as she had suffered, Tess thought bitterly.

  Now all that was past, thank God. Never would she allow herself to be hurt so deeply again.

  In a flash these reflections flooded in upon Tess's raw, strained senses. She saw all of this — saw the vein throbbing at Dane's neck, saw the hard set of his jaw, saw the taut control of his posture.

  But before she could react to her newfound knowledge, Ravenhurst had crossed to the kitchen and thrown the bolt that secured the outer door.

  Trapping her.

  "And now, my dear Tess," the viscount growled, "I believe we have some catching up to do."

  "Why did you come back?" Tess hissed, her fingers clenched together tightly on her desk. "Why couldn't you just stay away, damn you?"

  "Perhaps I felt it was time you had a man in your life again — a real man, that is."

  "Don't flatter yourself! You meant nothing to me. And I obviously meant less than nothing to you!"

  Dane's hard features twisted in a sneer. "Come, come, my dear. Is that any way to greet your long-lost lover?"

  "Go to hell, St. Pierre. Or perhaps I should say Viscount Ravenhurst, as Hobhouse informs me. My congratulations on your new title. I'm certain it affords you all the opportunity for arrogance that you've ever wanted. But if you think we have any catching up to do, you are sadly mistaken. So just leave me alone!"

  "Ah, but you see, leaving you alone is the last thing I mean to do, my love. After all, we have so much lost time to make up," Lord Ravenhurst added, his voice cold with menace. "Five years, to be precise."

  Tess's hands clenched and unclenched on her desk. What cruel game was he playing at? And why in the name of heaven did he come back to torment her now, just when she was learning to forget him?

  Forget him? a mocking voice asked. Forget that hard body? Forget how his eyes devoured her, with the devil's own gleam in their cobalt-blue depths? Forget how his hair smelled, rich with sea and sun and salt wind?

  You could never forget him. Nor the bitter way you parted.

  "I order you to leave this room!" Tess blazed. "Otherwise I shall call Hobhouse and have you thrown out."

  "I should like to see him t
ry," Ravenhurst drawled, one sable eyebrow climbing to a mocking slant. "It might prove amusing."

  "Blackguard! As if I cared what might amuse you!"

  The man in the doorway did not move. Tess watched a vein pound at his neck. Only his eyes moved, searing her, smoky and furious, as if he wished he might burn her into a thousand cinders.

  "At one time you cared." Ravenhurst's voice hardened, dropping to a dangerous growl. "At one time my feelings meant everything to you, Tess. Or so you assured me." His full lips twisted in a snarl. "Was that, too, a lie?"

  So the thought bothered him, did it? Reckless with fury, Tess tilted back her head, gray-green eyes glittering beneath a curtain of auburn lashes. "You'll never know for certain, will you?" she purred.

  Dane's eyes narrowed, and Tess felt the hot, churning force of his gaze. His thighs were slightly apart, taut and braced as if he rode a pitching quarterdeck. Power emanated from that hard body, power which fed upon his dark anger until it became a wild, pulsating thing.

  Then his lazy facade shattered. With a savage growl, he thundered across the room and jerked her from her chair. "Oh, I'll know, Tess Leighton. But first ..." Seizing her hands, he hauled her against his chest.

  Tess twisted in silent fury, fighting his iron grip, fighting the savage heat of his body. "Go to hell and toast your eyebrows, for all I care! But leave me alone, damn you!"

  "Ah, but that's the very last thing I mean to do," the viscount snarled, his lips twisting in a cold mockery of a smile. "No, what I mean to do is pick up precisely where we left off. Beginning with that night in your father's gate house at Fairleigh. You do remember that night, don't you, my love?" His fingers tightened punishingly on her wrists.

  Painful images swam before Tess's eyes, fragments of memory more cruel than his ruthless fingers. Dear God, could she never put the past behind her?

  "I remember, you swine," Tess hissed. "But it seems you do not. If your memory were better, you'd remember we left off nowhere — and with nothing! Can't you get that through your thick skull? Even now?" With a choked, angry cry she drew back her foot, taking aim just as Jack had once taught her.