Mary Putney - Dancing on the Wind

Now that the danger had passed, Lucien was physically and emotionally drained. His shoulder ached where Kira had clubbed him, his ankle hurt like the devil, and the prolonged anxiety of the night had taken a heavy toll. Instinctively he turned to Kit, needing to hold her.

She was with Kira, the identical faces like mirror images of each other. Though the twins were not clinging as desperately as they had earlier, it was obvious they were bound by an emotional intimacy that shut out everyone else.

Hesitantly he said, "Are you all right, Kit? Mace didn't hurt you?"

She looked at him, her gray eyes opaque and unreadable. "I'm fine, thank you. He didn't have time to do anything."

Worse than the formality of her words was the bitter knowledge that she had deliberately cut the silent ties that had been growing between them. He had not realized how strong they had become until now, when they were gone, leaving an icy void.

It was his worst fear come true. She had become the center of his life, yet for her, he scarcely existed. She no longer needed him now that she had her twin again.

He wondered where Jason would fit into the equation. Perhaps he didn't want as much from Kira as Lucien needed from Kit; if so, he might be perfectly happy, not knowing what he was missing. But Lucien wanted more, and he felt bleakly certain that he would never get it. If pressed, Kit might agree to marry him, from gratitude if for no other reason. But in every meaningful way she was gone, for she had never really been his.

Damming the pain before it could drown him, Lucien looked back at Chiswick. "We're leaving now. Do you want to take care of this mess? You were part of it, so you and the others have the most to lose if a public scandal results."

Chiswick looked startled, then thoughtful. "If it was announced that Nunfield, Mace, and Harford died in a carriage accident because of the icy weather, it would be sad, but not scandalous." He glanced at his fellows. "Do you agree?"

There were murmurs of relief. Judging by the faces of the other Disciples, the night's events had persuaded this particular lot of rakes to stick to more conventional vices in the future.

"Speaking of carriages," Chiswick said, "mine has special wheels that make it travel well in ice and snow. If you like, you can borrow it for the ladies." He glanced at Kit and Kira. "I think they have endured quite enough for one night."

Lucien accepted the offer, and within a quarter of an hour they were on their way. Even when he helped Kit into the carriage, she would not meet his gaze. She couldn't have been more reserved if they had just been introduced.

Michael drove the carriage while Lucien and Jason rode behind with the extra horses. The sleet and freezing rain had stopped and the temperature had fallen, turning the world to a glittering fantasy land of ice.

Lucien welcomed the biting cold, for it matched the chill in his heart. He thought back to the night at Eton when he had decided to become Lucifer-cool, ironic, detached, as far above the pain of loss as the clouds sailing through the sky. It had worked then, and it would work now, for he had had so many years of practice.

After the pain was firmly locked away, he discovered a weary sense of peace. Though Kit had slipped away, taking his dreams with her, tonight he had found a measure of absolution for his failure to save his sister's life.

At first Kit and Kira did not speak, content merely to hold hands as the carriage rumbled through the icy ruts. Rather than try to find her lost clothing in the maze of tunnels, Kit wore her outrageous costume under a warm cloak that Chiswick had given her. His usual cynical detachment had vanished; she guessed that he was trying to make amends for his failure to recognize the full depravity of his fellow Hellions.

Ruthlessly she suppressed her memory of the moment when Lucien had hugged Kira and said that she was everything Kit had described. After all, she had expected something like that. If she allowed herself to feel the pain, she would disintegrate, and for that she would rather be alone. Now she would rejoice in her sister's survival. There would be time enough for anguish later.

The silence was broken when Kira said in a shaking voice, "I just killed a man. I keep seeing the blood, and ' his face…";

"Good riddance," Kit said tartly. "Quite apart from Mace's other sins, he was in the process of trying to knife Lucien. It's all very well to forgive one's enemies, but not until after they've been safely hung."

Her sister's faint smile faded quickly. "He never raped me, he never even kissed me. I suppose he was saving that for his grand finale. But being forced to play his loathsome games was almost as bad. I felt helpless, soiled."

"Yet you survived and kept your sanity as well," Kit said quietly. "Few women could have been as strong."

"I never could have done it without you. No matter how dreadful things were, I knew that on some level you were always with me. When it became unendurable, I drew on your strength. I also knew that if I could stay alive long enough, you would find me." Kira's clasp tightened. "And you did." "

"I had help." Kit glanced at her sister, seeing the familiar profile outlined against the window. Though in principle she didn't believe in revenge, in this case she applauded it. Surely Kira's act of vengeful justice had restored some of what Mace had taken away.

"And very impressive help it was," Kira said, sounding more like herself. "Tell me everything that happened."

For her twin Kit recounted everything, except for her relationship with Lucien. That was too painful to discuss.

Kira swore when she learned about Jason's imprisonment and escape, but didn't interrupt. At the end she jxclaimed, "My shy, straitlaced little sister played in The Gypsy Lass!"

" And cut my hair and got tattooed with that damned butterfly so that no one would notice any difference," Kit said acerbically.

Kira chuckled. "How were your notices?"

"The critics said I was in good form." Kit shrugged. 'I merely pretended that I was you. The audience saw what they expected of Cassie James."

"Maybe you should take my place permanently," Kira suggested. "I'm not going to continue acting, but it would be a pity to retire Cassie right when fame is there for he plucking."

Startled, Kit said, "You're going to leave the stage?"

"I've had enough. Sometimes it was wonderful- here's nothing like knowing you hold an audience in the palm of your hand. But the theater world is narrow and self-absorbed and takes itself far too seriously. I was often impatient with it."

"You never hinted at that before."

Kira's fingers moved restlessly within her sister's. "I didn't want to admit that it was a mistake to become an actress. And it wasn't a complete mistake-having done I can now walk away with no regrets." A warmer note entered her voice. "A good thing I've had enough, because continuing to act wouldn't be fair to Jason. Theater people should marry only other theater people."

"So you are going to marry him?"

"There's nothing on earth I want more. After I met him, damn his stubborn American hide, no one else would do. I assume he feels the same, or he never would have come for me." An anxious note sounded in her voice. "You like him, don't you? It would be dreadful if you didn't."

"I like him very much. The two of you should suit wonderfully."

"He has the ability to be emotionally intimate. That's rare in a man. I think it was because his mother raised him-he takes women seriously." Kira chuckled. "He probably didn't mention it, but he's also done rather well with his shipping business. Can you believe it? A Travers male who knows how to make money instead of wasting it! Papa would have considered that heresy."