Jason said, "Ready?"

Lucien set the map of London in front of her. She closed her eyes and thought of her twin, her other, better self. Kira, where are you? Tell me where you are, love. She repeated the sentences like a litany until her consciousness was saturated with the essence of her sister.

Then she began to move her right hand slowly above the city map. The tension in the room was suffocating. Surprisingly, she did not mind having an audience, for the three men gave her a feeling of protection against the unknown that she was seeking to penetrate.

Divination proved to be a slow, painstaking process.

As expected, London did not provoke a reaction, though she felt a faint tingling in her palm. Perhaps that was because Kira had spent so much time in the city.

Next Surrey, then Kent. Lucien was laying out the counties counterclockwise around the city. Essex next. Kit did not look closely at the maps. Instead, she did her best to keep her mind empty so that she was only an instrument for whatever mysterious power moved the pendulum.

Suddenly the locket began twitching, creating a flurry of excitement. In a voice trembling with hope, Jason asked, "Is Kira in or near Romford?"

The pendulum began swinging clockwise. No. Kit released the breath she had caught. "Kira used to visit friends in Romford. That's probably why there was a reaction."

"Still, it proves that the technique has value. You weren't even looking at the map, so you couldn't know that you were over Romford." Lucien studied her face and frowned. "Do you need to rest?"

Guessing that she was gray with exhaustion, she closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, her hands loose in her lap. Lucien rested a hand on her shoulder and some of his strength and confidence flowed into her. When she felt a little stronger, she raised the locket and continued. After Essex, Hertford.

Now Middlesex. Still nothing. Her throat tightened. This wasn't working; she had covered all of the counties around London with no results.

Quietly, Lucien slid another map under her hovering hand. A quick glance showed that it was Berkshire, which lay just west of Middlesex. He was starting on the second ring of counties out from London.

Doggedly she passed her hand over Windsor, then north to Maidenhead. Kira, where are you? South again toward Bracknell.

The pendulum jerked like a hooked fish, then began wildly swirling counterclockwise. At the same time there was a sharp, almost painful, sensation in her right palm. Kit snapped back to wakefulness, excitement burning through her veins. She felt a strong sense of her sister's presence, not the barely conscious pulse that was always there, but the intense connection she had felt when Lucien had mesmerized her.

His voice choked, Jason said, "Is Kira near Basildon?"

The locket slowed a little, but continued circling in the same direction. Kit felt Lucien behind her. He said, "Is she closer to Hycombe?"

The pendulum began moving more rapidly. Kit was only half aware of it because she felt herself sliding into her sister's mind and emotions so deeply that she was unsure where one of them ended and the other began.

"You're over a small village, West Hycombe," Lucien said, his voice distant. "Is she near there?"

Kit's head was pounding, and she was dimly aware that the locket was again swinging wildly. Swinging, swinging, the tip of the whip biting into glazed flesh. A guttural, animal sound of pain twisted with ecstasy. Maddened eyes filled with craving and menace…

Far, far away, Lucien asked, "Is Kira in or near a place called Castle Raine?"

Reality splintered into a whirlwind of fear. Sister… self… other… enemy… danger… danger… danger!

As she fell into the vortex, she began to scream.

Chapter 34

As soon as Lucien said the words "Castle Raine," Kit cried out with a terror that froze his blood.

Michael vaulted from his chair and crossed the kitchen in two steps. "Bloody hell, what's wrong?"

Jason also said something, but Lucien ignored both of the other men. He moved in front of Kit and saw that she was oblivious to her surrounding, her eyes blind, her hands clawing, her tortured voice one long wail of distress. She was like a madwoman-or a woman trapped in madness.

He caught her hands and said urgently, "Wake up, Kit, you've succeeded. It's over."

She writhed frantically, trying to jerk her hands free. "I hate this, I hate it, I hate him,I hate him, I HATE HIM!"

Face pale, Jason said, "What do you think has happened?"

"I think she has become trapped in Kira's terror," Lucien said grimly. Pitching his voice more sharply, he said, "Come back, Kit. For God's sake, come backl"

The screaming stopped, but her eyes were still dazed, and she was panting like a deer that had been hunted to the point of collapse. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. She was shaking and as cold as when they had hidden in the stream to avoid the pursuing dogs. How much more could she stand before she shattered? Softly he said, "It's all right, Kit, you're safe here with me."

"Please… please hold me, Lucien." She began to weep, but her voice was her own.

Thanking God that she was herself again, he lifted her in his arms, then turned and sat in the chair. As he cradled her against him, he asked, "Is divining with a pendulum always so exciting?"

Face pale, the American said, "I've never seen anything like that happen before."

"Presumably, you've never worked with a woman who was searching for her lost twin." He stroked Kit's trembling shoulders. She seemed painfully fragile.

Hating the necessity of probing, he asked, "I gather that you connected with Kira's emotions?"

Kit swallowed hard. "Yes, just at the end of one of the whipping sessions. It was ghastly, like having a nightmare while still awake. I could see and hear everything and feel Kira's emotions, but I could do nothing. I felt paralyzed, like a fly trapped in a web with the spider approaching."

"Is Kira all right?"

Kit frowned, then relaxed. "Yes. He's gone now. She knew I was there. I think that helped."

"You think she's being held at a place called Castle Raine?"

Kit shuddered and hid her face again. "I believe so."

Lucien extended one arm, keeping the other around Kit. "Michael, give me the map."

His friend silently placed it in his hand. After studying the area, Lucien said, "Castle Raine is a ruined medieval fortress, and it's probably no coincidence that it falls roughly halfway between the estates of Mace and Nunfield."

"Probably not." Michael glanced at Kit. "A castle dungeon would fit your impression of a lightless underground prison."

She grimaced. "You're right. Even furnishing the place comfortably can't cover up that atmosphere."

Lucien was still frowning at the map. Not surprisingly for a medieval castle, a river ran nearby. What caught his attention was a nagging sense of familiarity. An image popped into his mind: standing on a hill amidst old stone walls, looking down at a curving, moonlit river. Stone walls and moonlight… "Damnation, I think I've been there!" he exclaimed. "Castle Raine must be the place that the Hellions hold their rituals."

"You attended one of their infamous orgies?" Michael said, his brows raised.

Kit's head came up, her gray eyes narrowed as she waited for Lucien's answer. Uneasily he remembered the hard-faced whore, and the horrible desolation he had felt after allowing her to earn her fee. His arm tightened around Kit's shoulders. "Strictly in the way of business, not for pleasure."

She relaxed again. A good thing she was so tired, or she might have guessed that his answer was not the whole truth. The night was one Lucien preferred to forget.

Jason said, "Do you know if the castle has dungeons?"

"I didn't see any, but it's likely. The grounds are quite extensive. Almost anything, or anyone, could be hidden there."

Silence fell on the room until Michael said with quiet menace, "I assume that tonight we will go to Castle Raine and search for Lady Kristine."

"That we will," Lucien said. "But first we sleep. In the morning Kit and I will call on Lord Ives, who is one Hellion we can trust. He should be able to tell us more about the castle."

"One can never have too much information about the target of a raid." Michael ran a weary hand through his chestnut hair. "But the earlier we go to Berkshire, the better. There's a bad storm brewing. Freezing rain or sleet, I think."

"Then we'll need a place to go to ground near the castle. A private house would be better than an inn." Lucien tapped the map. "Rafe owns a small manor near Basildon. The tenant died recently, and it's still vacant. I'm sure he'll let us use it. We can ride there this afternoon. After the raid we can spend the night and not have to ride all the way back to London."

In spite of her fatigue, Kit's curiosity was piqued. She said to Michael, "You can predict a storm so accurately that Lucien accepts your word without a blink?"

"They used to call me the weather wizard. Even as a child, I could always tell when a storm was coming, and how severe it would be." Michael flexed one arm. "After I took a ball in the shoulder, my predictions became even better." Getting to his feet, he added, "Sleep well for what is left of the night."

Jason covered a yawn. "Since tomorrow is the winter solstice, we still have a few more hours of darkness."

Lucien stood, Kit still in his arms. "Good night."

As he headed toward the stairs, she protested, "I can walk."

"I have my doubts," he said dryly. "Remember how drained you've been the other times you've reached Kira's mind?"

"Oh." Conceding the point, she closed her eyes and let her head drop against his shoulder.

He was struck again by how frail she seemed. Poor gallant, exhausted kitten. She must be operating on pure will.

He took her to her room and set her on the edge of the bed, then stripped off her outer clothing. She cooperated passively, her head drooping. When she was down to her shift, he pulled back the covers. Before he could tuck her in, she reached up and linked her arms around his neck. "Stay, Lucien," she said, her eyes starkly gray. "Please."

He hesitated, grievously tempted. But…

"I'd love to stay, but I can't swear that I'll behave with suitable propriety," he said, striving to keep his tone light. "Though I understand entirely why you must avoid the confusions of passion, when I'm close to you, sense goes out the window. Fatigue will protect you tonight, but I make no guarantees about tomorrow morning."

She gave a ghost of a smile. "I'm prepared to accept the consequences. Now that we know where Kira is, I no longer feel it is critical for me to avoid intimacy." She laid her head against his chest, then added in an exhausted whisper, "And tonight, I don't want to be alone."

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "As long as I'm alive, Kit, you don't have to be."

Her face tightened, though she said nothing. He wondered if she would ever believe him, or if her unreliable father had forever destroyed her ability to take a man at his word. Well, Lucien could be as patient as he had to be. He undressed, then put out the candles and joined her under the feather comforter.

Kit settled against him with a soft sigh. The sheets were cold and so was she, but warmth slowly bloomed wherever their bodies touched. He smiled when a slim leg insinuated itself between his knees, followed by a chilly foot tucking under his ankle. He couldn't imagine why anyone would rather sleep alone.

Though fatigue had done a good job of deadening desire, it was still pleasant to stroke her from shoulder to hip. Her smooth, supple curves gradually warmed. When his hand drifted to a rest on her breast, he lazily thumbed her nipple. It tightened to a firm little nub under the lightweight chemise.

He leaned forward a few inches so that his lips touched hers. Their mouths clung, hers soft and welcoming. Tongue met tongue with velvet pleasure, and she made a muted, purring sound. After a long, leisurely kiss, he lifted his head away. "This is foolish," he said huskily. "We both need rest."

She murmured agreement, yet her hand slipped around his waist to the small of his back and began moving in languid circles, gently erotic. He felt a distinct throb of desire. Lowering his head, he kissed her breast, feeling the pebbly texture of her nipple through her shift. From the way her breathing changed, she was no more immune to desire than he.