Her gaze fell on the nasty little whipping toy. With sudden rage, she raised it above her head and smashed it to the floor. Then she crushed the figures beneath her booted feet. If only she could do the same with her captor…

A thought occurred to her, and she knelt to study the pieces. A number of metal gears had been ex posed. She lifted the largest and tested the sharp-toothed edge. It was hardened steel. Used carefully, it should be able to rasp through wood.

She surveyed her three rooms thoughtfully. Ah, the bedside table. Given enough time, she could cut through one of the legs. When it was loose, she should have enough leverage to wrench it free of the bolt that held it to the floor. If not, well, she would cut the leg off a couple of inches above the floor.

She sat cross-legged by the table and grimly went to work. When she was done, she would have a club heavy enough to bash a man's skull in. That wouldn't be enough to free her, but if she was going to die, she would damned well take her captor with her.

Chapter 35

Cleo was slow to answer her door. When she did, she was laughing and her blond hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders. Seeing Lucien with Kit, she hastily pulled her green velvet wrapper more closely around her. "Cassie, my dear, you're up early this morning," she said in a voice pitched to carry to the back of her flat. Her speaking glance said that she had company. "I'm afraid this isn't the most convenient time for a cup of tea. Shall I come down for a good gossip later?"

Kit said, "We've come to speak to Lord Ives. Is he here? We think we know where my sister is being held, and he might be able to help us."

Cleo's eyes widened. "God be thanked." Raising her voice again, she called, "John, you have visitors."

A coatless Ives emerged from the bedroom, looking mildly surprised. When he saw who was waiting, he smiled and gave Kit a polite bow. "Strathmore, Miss James, what a pleasant surprise. I trust you are well."

"I'm not Cassie James, I'm her twin sister. She's been abducted, and I've been pretending to be her for weeks," Kit said bluntly. "I hope you can help us find her."

Incredulously, he said, "There are two of you who can perform like that?" He scrutinized her face for a long time before giving a slow nod. "I see. Come sit down. I suspect that this might be a long story."

Actually, Kit's description of Kira's disappearance and her own impersonation was brief because she omitted the most interesting details, such as her stalking of the Hellions and the fact that her sister had been located with a pendulum. She didn't even mention her stint as a barmaid, when she had whacked Ives with her bust improver. Since he hadn't recognized her, the subject was best left unmentioned for the sake of his dignity.

After she had outlined the situation, Lucien took over. "We think that Cassie is being held at Castle Raine in Berkshire. Am I correct that it is the site of the Hellion gatherings?"

"It is." Ives gnawed his lip unhappily. "You really think one of the Disciples has abducted her? Surely none of them would need to do anything like that. They can all afford as many women as they want."

Lucien said tersely, "There are men who prefer unwilling women. There are others who will not take no for an answer."

Ives's face become grave. Kit guessed that he was remembering comments that confirmed what Lucien had said. Looking up, he said simply, "What can I do to help?"

"We need to know as much as possible about Castle Raine," Lucien said. "For example, are there dungeons underneath?"

"I believe so, though I've never seen them," Ives replied. "The Disciples have a private sanctuary for their secret rituals. Lesser Hellions like me were never allowed to see that, but I think the entrance must be somewhere behind the chapel."

"Do you know anything about their ceremonies?"

"Not really. However, another junior Hellion stopped by the castle one night because he fancied seeing the ruins by moonlight. He left when he heard a woman screaming." Ives ran his fingers through his hair uneasily. "He thought that he must have imagined it all. He had been drinking, and that place is enough to give one odd fancies. But perhaps he was right."

"When did that occur?"

"Last sumrner. Around the end of June, I think."

Before Kira had been captured, Lucien thought with relief. But it raised the ugly possibility that other women had been victimized in the past. Since none had ever come forward to accuse the Hellions, the chances were that they had not survived the experience. "How does one get to the castle?"

After Ives had given a precise description of the roads nd turns, Lucien asked a series of other questions. However, apart from some details of the layout, he learned nothing that he had not observed himself. At the end he asked, "Do you know if there are any guards there?"

"I believe there is a watchman when it is empty," Ives aid. "Also, you might not have noticed the one time you attended, but at the Hellion banquets there are always several male servants dressed as Turkish harem guards. They're called eunuchs, though I'm sure they aren't. Actually, they look like boxers who had retired from the ring. They would make good guards, but I expect they're only there during services."

"I hope you're right." Lucien got to his feet. "Thank you for your help. I don't suppose I need to say that you must not mention this discussion to anyone."

"I won't." Ives stood also. "I assume you're going to Castle Raine to try to find the real Cassie James. Do you need another volunteer?"

"Thank you, but no. I've already enlisted several friends."

Ives glanced at Kit. "Is there is any chance of you and your sister performing together?" he asked. "It would be a night to remember."

She shook her head. "The moment she is free, I'm retiring from the stage permanently."

They said their farewells, then left the flat and went lown to the carriage. When they were inside, Lucien muttered, "I wish you weren't going to Castle Raine with us."

"I have to be there to find Kira," she pointed out. 'If the ruins are extensive, you might never find her without me."

"I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Though her expression was troubled, Kit said lightly, "Why are you worrying? Remember, we have Michael, he warrior angel, leader of the hosts of righteousness, on our side."

Lucien gave a lopsided smile. "True, and there's no reason to expect trouble. We should be able to break in and get your sister out easily, but one never knows. I don't like the idea of exposing you to possible danger."

She sniffed. "I wasn't the one who almost fell off a roof from sheer clumsiness."

He smiled and took her hand. "I stand corrected. I'll need you there tonight to save me from myself."

Yet in spite of his joke, his concern did not go away. As they rode back to Strathmore, a couple of lines of Shakespeare kept circling in his head: "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

The man who had been watching the Marshall Street house for days swore as the actress climbed into the carriage with Strathmore and drove off. His employer had been furious that the abduction attempt had failed, and most insistent that the girl be taken by today. But it bloody wasn't possible. The silly chit hadn't been home in days. She'd finally shown her face, but only a damned fool would try to take her away from that languid earl who had turned out to be so much tougher than he looked.

The watcher shrugged and settled back into concealment in the room he had rented across the street from his quarry's house. He was being paid for his time, so he might as well sit and watch until it was time to report to his employer.

He yawned. If it was him, he'd kidnap a wench with more meat on her bones.

The hulking iron gates of Castle Raine were locked, with no watchman in sight. If there was one, he was probably inside, where it was warm and dry.

Michael had been right about the storm; as Kit waited by the gate, she was shivering from the freezing rain. If the temperature fell much further, the world would turn to ice. God willing, by then they would be safe and Kira would be free.

With a faint metallic jangle, Lucien bent over the lock of the man-sized door that was set into the larger gate. She could not see in detail what he was doing, but it seemed to involve a key ring with a broad assortment of keys and metal picks. She was not surprised when the door swung open with a faint squeal that vanished quickly amid the sounds of wind and rain.


Behind her Jason Travers said with a hint of laughter, "Am I going to have to learn to do that if I want to be a proper earl?"

"The real beauty of being a British peer," Lucien said as he ushered the others through, then closed the door behind them, "is that one can be as eccentric as one wishes."

"The issue isn't your eccentricity, Luce, but your unfortunate criminal tendencies," Michael said gently. The other men chuckled.

Her nerves strung drum-tight, Kit felt like swatting them for their frivolity. She refrained because she suspected that levity was a masculine way of coping with tension. It was easier to be female and allowed to show her fear. Lucien must have guessed at her state of mind, for he kept a light hand at the back of her waist as they moved soundlessly along the edge of the drive toward the main buildings.

The objective, writer part of her mind was taking notes, for this raid was giving her a sense of what war must be like. All four of them wore dark clothing, Kit in her burglar outfit again. Even the horses tethered in a nearby thicket were invisible because Michael had put blacking on the white markings that might have drawn attention at night.

She would never have thought of that; it was a small, comforting reminder of how much experience Michael had in covert missions. With his flinty expression, eyes that missed nothing, and a well-used carbine rifle slung over his shoulder, he was a formidable sight. Armed with pistols, Lucien and Jason looked equally dangerous. Though Kit prayed that violence would be unnecessary, if it occurred they were well-prepared.

Lucien had asked if she wanted a pistol, but she had refused with a shudder. It was one of the ways in which she differed from her twin; Kira was an excellent shot while Kit had always flatly refused to touch a gun, and it was too late to learn now.

The chapel was a dim outline, a blacker bulk against a stormy sky. Halfway there, she gasped and came to a stop, her fingers pressed to her temples.

"What is it?" Lucien asked in a low voice.

"She's here." Kit's voice trembled at the confirmation that her intuition had been correct. "She's really here!"

Jason made a sound that demonstrated how much his casual manner must be costing him. Cooler, Michael asked, "Can you tell what direction?"

Kit concentrated with an effort that made her temples throb. "Directly ahead, in the vicinity of the chapel. Below it, I think."

Heart hammering, she hastened toward the building, scarcely aware of her surroundings or the rain in her face. She reached the chapel and was fumbling for the knob when Lucien snapped, "Don't open the doors! There's light showing below."

She glanced down and saw that he was right.

As impatient as Kit, Jason said, "It's probably only the watchman. We can take care of one man."

"No doubt," Lucien replied. "Nevertheless, let's find another entrance. I believe that around to the right there's a side door that leads into the banquet hall."

They skirted the building until they found it. Lucien went to work on the lock, his movements so careful that Kit heard nothing even though she was less than six feet away. There was a faint click. He eased the door open, then ghosted through.

After a moment of listening he motioned for the others to follow. The banquet hall was a large room with the shapes of tables and chairs dimly visible in the faint glow that came from the far left corner. Wordlessly, he led the way toward the light, moving around the edge of the room to avoid the furniture.

At the entrance to the hall he pressed on Kit's shoulder in a silent order to stay. Leaving Jason with her, Lucien and Michael moved forward along the passage that went to the chapel.

The wait seemed endless. She clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to be still. Then, almost inaudible over the sounds of rain splattering against the windows, she heard a muffled cry, followed by a thud. A couple of minutes later, the men returned, Michael carrying a lighted taper that he used to ignite the two lamps Jason was carrying. The glass was shielded so that only narrow beams were emitted, but they were a great improvement over the dark.