Iris Johansen - Dark Rider

Cassie nodded. "He's the one who sends Josette messages when she's at school." She crossed the library and dropped into a brocade chair before the fire. "And he may spy and follow me around, but he's pleasant about it. Not like that big dour Jack Ramgale, who scowls at me all the time." She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees as she gazed into the fire. "Josette took me down to the cove to see her sailboat this afternoon."

"And dour Jack followed you?"

"So close I thought he'd step on my heels." She made a face. "Did he think I was so stupid I'd try to sail off with him watching me?"

"Jared's servants are very loyal to him."

"But it did occur to me," she said wistfully. "We were surrounded by water. Why didn't I ever learn to sail a boat?"

"You were too interested in riding horses." She held up her hand as Cassie started to speak. "And, no, I cannot sail a boat. I've never done anything but row a canoe. We'll have to find some other way when the time comes."

When the time comes. It seemed to Cassie that the time to act would never come. "I dreamed about Papa last night."

"Ah, so this is why you're so restless today. A good dream?"

"No." It had been a blurred, disjointed nightmare. Her father had been swirling in a dark whirlpool and reaching out to her in despair. "We have to find him, Lani."

"And so you're ready to jump into the sea and swim to France to get to him." She shook her head. "He might not even be there yet. You know it's best to let Jared do our searching for us and then go to Charles. I'm in a much better position to know when messages are received now that the servants look to me for orders."

"That's true enough." How strange was their situation here at Morland: half prisoners, half guests, and since yesterday Lani was virtually commanding this vast castle. "But we must have a plan to leave when the word comes."

"We cannot leave from the port from which we arrived. It's too close, and it may take time to obtain passage. Bradford mentioned there was a small port about ten miles south of here. That's a possibility."

"I'll ask Josette about it." She was more cheerful now that there was action to be taken. Lani was right -they could not waste their scant funds in Paris. They must stay here until word came to Jared. She rose to her feet. "It's time to dress for supper."

"You go ahead. I have time to stay here awhile." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't have to wash off the smell of horse from my person."

Cassie moved toward the door. "As you say, it washes off." She paused at the door, hesitating. "Lani… do you dream of Papa?"

"Not often. I'm not a dreamer, but when I do, they are good dreams." She smiled. "He's doing what he believes is right, Cassie. God will be with him."

Cassie wished she could be as sure. The dream last night had frightened her. God had not been with that poor creature caught in a whirlpool.

"It was a dream, Cassie," Lani said gently. "If you have another, come to me and we will talk about it."

Run to Lani as she had done when she was a small child, and everything would be all right. The problems were bigger now, the dreams more terrifying, and she must face them by herself. Lani had her own burdens to shoulder.

She forced a smile. "I'm sure I won't have any more nightmares about Papa."

October 1, 1806 Paris, France

"Monsieur David is in the salon, Monsieur Bonille," Gaston said as he opened the front door, then took Raoul's hat and gloves. "He's been there since before luncheon. I told him he'd have to wait a long time, but he insisted he must see you as soon as possible."

"Indeed? I'm truly flattered. Monsieur David seldom bothers with lesser mortals since Napoleon became his patron." He strolled toward the salon. "I hope you made him welcome?"

The servant nodded eagerly. "But of course, monsieur. He's a very great man, a glorious artist."

Raoul's lip curled. These peasant fools always thought those who stood beside and shared the glory with the Napoleons and the Robespierres of the world were great themselves. He could have told him that it was always the men behind the throne who were the clever ones. He threw open the delicately carved doors of the grand salon. "Ah, Jacques-Louis, how delightful to see you. If you'd let me know you were coming, naturally I'd have postponed my visit."

"I didn't know myself." David rose to his feet. "I had a visitor this morning."

Raoul lifted a brow. "Napoleon?"

David made an impatient gesture. "Would I come running to you if it was Bonaparte? No, it was someone else." He paused. "Charles Deville."

Raoul carefully controlled his expression. "How… surprising. How is the dear fellow?"

"Discomposed. He wants to know where Raoul Cambre is."

"And you told him?"

"No, of course not. You swore me to secrecy when you changed your name."

And sealed the vow with a thousand influential introductions and favors. "Brandy?"

David shook his head. "I must go. I've work to do. I've wasted enough light today waiting for you."

"Don't leave yet." He poured a brandy for himself. He needed it. "What do you mean 'discomposed'?"

"Disturbed, tense, frightened. He kept ranting that he had to see you, that he had to be sure. He said that he'd arrived in Paris just last night."

"And he came immediately to you. Interesting."

"He knew we were friends."

David had never been his friend, he thought contemptuously. He'd used the conceited fool as he had all the others. He smiled. "Excellent friends. What was his appearance? Does he seem to be a man of substance these days?"

"No. He was gaunt and his clothes a bit shabby." David frowned. "I felt a trifle guilty lying to another artist." He hastened to add, "Though he's not on my level, of course."

"Of course. There's no one on your level, Jacques-Louis. All Paris knows how brilliant you are."

"I don't like to lie," he said peevishly. "My life is quite comfortable now. It's very distracting having these people pop up out of your past bothering me. First there was that Jean Guillaume asking questions on behalf of the Duke of Morland, and now Deville himself."

Raoul restrained himself from pointing out that he had been responsible for a good deal of that comfort. In the chaos following Robespierre's death, he had been careful to make sure he protected all his spheres of influence. It would do no harm to remind David of their mutual past. "It's natural that some ghosts would come back to haunt us. Those were troublesome times." He sighed reminiscently. "I remember how ardent you were, with your revolutionary fervor and that wonderful vest with those buttons that had little guillotines painted on them."

David flushed. "As you say, those were different times." He rose to his feet. "Deville's your ghost, not mine. I've warned you and I'm done with it."

"But I fear he may trouble you again," Raoul said. "Disturbed men can be very embarrassing. Your glorious present may be tainted if memories are stirred. Napoleon might even think your allegiance fickle if he's forced to remember how passionately you embraced the revolution."

"Then stop Deville," David said flatly. "Talk to him. I won't be connected with this, Raoul."

"Did I say you would be?" His tone became soothing. "Of course I'll speak to him and send him on his way. I just need your help in planning a meeting. I must be discreet for both our sakes. Do you know where he can be reached?"

"He said if I discovered where you could be found, he'd be at sixteen rue Grenadier."

"Then why don't you send him a message and tell him you've located his old friend Raoul, who is eager to meet with him and welcome him back to France? I'll be at the Café Dumonde on the West Bank tomorrow night at eleven o'clock."