A Fine Passion - Bastion 04 by Laurens Stephanie

Author:Laurens, Stephanie [Stephanie, Laurens,]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0060593318
Published: 2011-09-03T07:00:00+00:00

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The headache hit with a vengeance in the early evening. Surrendering to the savage pain, to the nauseating sensations every time he tried to move, to the excruciating agony when he tried to think, Jack retired to his room and his bed before Deverell returned. It was more important that he be alert and functioning in the morning; consulting Deverell could wait.

As Jack crawled under the cool sheets and laid his head on the pillow, he prayed Dalziel wouldn't send for him that evening.

Dalziel didn't. He did, however, appear downstairs before Jack had had breakfast the next morning.

Despite the comfortable bed and his best intentions, he hadn't slept well, but at least his headache had subsided to a level at which he could listen and talk. Muttering beneath his breath over the early hour—it wasn't even nine o'clock—Jack followed Gasthorpe down to the first floor; Gasthorpe had conducted his unnerving guest to the library. Jack paused, eyeing the door. "Bring coffee. As soon as you can."

Gasthorpe bowed. "Immediately, my lord."

Jack opened the door and went in. Closing it, he took a moment to study the tall figure standing before the long windo overlooking the back garden. Dalziel—they had yet to ferret out his real name—shared many characteristics with the men he'd commanded. He was much the same height as Jack, with a similar, fractionally leaner, build. Finer build, finer bone structure, finer, more austere features—that was really all that separated him physically from his men. In menace, however, Dalziel had them all trumped.

In his presence, anyone with the slightest ability to sense danger was inevitably on full alert.

Releasing the doorknob, Jack let the latch click and watched Dalziel turn from the window to face him.

As if he hadn't, until then, been aware Jack was there.

Jack inwardly scoffed. Put simply, Dalziel was the most dangerous man he'd ever met. His ex-commander was the ultimate epitome of the predatory warrior lords the Normans had left scattered throughout England.

"Good morning. I won't ask what's brought you here." Jack waved Dalziel to an armchair and subsided into its mate, fighting to keep any hint of his headache from his face.

"Indeed." Dalziel's tone stated he wasn't the least happy about the matter in question. His dark eyes examined Jack's face. "I greatly fear that your friend, James Altwood, has become embroiled, entirely innocently, in a scheme to discredit me."

"You?" Jack frowned. This was Dalziel; it would be a waste of time to question his statement; if he said that was so, it was. "What scheme? And how did James come to be drawn into it?"

Dalziel steepled his fingers; his gaze fixed beyond Jack. "At this point, I can only speculate, but I imagine the scheme has come about because, as I'm sure you and the other members here are aware, I've been searching for one last traitor, who for various reasons, none unfortunately within the realm of hard fact, I believe remains undetected, unrepentant, and unpunished, buried within the higher echelons of power."

A knock preceded Gasthorpe carrying a tray.

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