"I needed the distraction of being constantly busy," Kira said simply. "I knew I would have a terrible time without you, but activity and novelty would help."
Understanding struck them simultaneously. They stared at each other in the darkness. "Jane kept emphasizing how well you were doing on your own," Kit said. "When she wrote you, did she go on about my success?"
"Yes!" Kira exclaimed. "I suppose she was only trying to be encouraging, but by telling each of us that the other was doing so well, she made us both feel like failures!"
"Though her intentions were good, the results weren't," Kit said half laughing, half exasperated. "For four years I've been blaming myself for my weak character."
"I did until I met Jason. That's when I realized it isn't in my nature to be frightfully independent like Jane. Oh, I can survive on my own, I know that now, but I'm far happier being with someone I love."
Her sister's words triggered a series of insights in Kit. She had been resisting Lucien with all her might. Part of that was her genuine fear that he would prefer Kira and leave her devastated, but she had also believed she shouldn't need him so much. Her experience had been that it wasn't safe to rely so much on men, and that had been reinforced by Jane, who was so splendidly independent herself.
But Lucien was not a Travers, and Kit should not doubt him because of her father's failings. Nor should she read so much into the way he had hugged Kira after she had shot Mace. Kit had been disposed to assume the worst, but apparently she and her sister had been misjudging each other for years. If she could do that with her twin, she could certainly be wrong about Lucien.
It was also high time for her to accept that it was no more her nature to be emotionally self-contained than it was Kira's. Thoughtfully she said, "We haven't talked like this in four years, Kira. Thank you for giving me a new perspective on life and love."
"Speaking of love, are you going to marry Lucien Fairchild? He's rather magnificent."
"So he is. As to marriage..." Kit hesitated, not wanting to discuss what was still so horrendously unresolved. "That remains to be seen. He thinks we should marry, but that's mostly because he feels guilty about all of the times we were in compromising situations. Since that was my fault, not his, it seems rather silly that he should have to marry me for the sake of my reputation."
"That's just an excuse. The truth is that he's another victim of your fatal charm." Then Kira inhaled sharply. "Kit, you sly thing, are you pregnant?"
"What?" Kit gasped. "That's impossible!"
"Is it?" Kira asked with interest.
Kit felt herself blushing so violently that the interior of the carriage should have warmed several degrees. "Well, not actually impossible. But certainly improbable."
Kira chuckled wickedly. "Nonetheless, I think it's true. I shall prepare myself to become an aunt."
Perhaps she was right; it was the sort of thing one twin would know about another. Kit thought about the possibility of having Lucien's child. Warmth sparked in her heart and spread through her whole body. It was a wonderful prospect—yet it complicated her situation enormously.
For the rest of the ride they chattered back and forth comparing notes, finishing each other's sentences, washing away four years of subtle estrangement in a flood tide of words. Then Kira glanced out the window and saw the manor house outlined against the night sky. "Incidentally, where are we going? I didn't think to ask."
"A small estate owned by a friend of Lucien's. It's vacant at the moment, so we've temporarily taken it over. Some of Lucien's servants came along to keep us comfortable."
"Did you bring some decent clothing? As soon as we get inside, I want you to help me take off this ghastly costume so that I can burn it."
"I packed several of your gowns," Kit assured her. "Warm, conservative ones because I knew that was what you would want."
Kira glanced down at herself. "Actually, Jason would enjoy seeing me in this outfit, but I can't bear having anything that Mace forced on me. Speaking of which, would you switch cloaks with me? You can have the sable cape; I don't want it anywhere near me."
Awkward in the cramped quarters, they exchanged their outer garments. As she wrapped the sumptuous fur around her, Kit remarked, "Since Mace is hardly one of my favorite people, I don't want to keep the cape either. Maybe we should give it to Cleo. She was wonderfully helpful, and she would love it."
"Good idea." A touch of defiance in her voice, Kira continued, "After I change, I'm going to find Jason and drag him off to his room for the night. We have a lot to catch up on."
Kit realized that her sister expected a scold. Once prim Lady Kathryn would have been scandalized at such immoral behavior, but not now. Not since she had learned something about passion and the bond it would forge between a man and a woman. "You certainly do. Having each survived a terrible captivity, I expect you'll be closer than ever."
"I hadn't thought of that, but you're right." After a slight hesitation, Kira said, "You needn't be jealous of Jason, you know. The connection between you and me has changed and evolved over the years, but it will always be there. Always."
Trust Kira to know and understand. Her heart full of love, Kit said, "And you say I'm clever. When it comes to the most important things in life, you've always been ahead of me."
"Only by ten minutes or so." The carriage rumbled to a halt in front of the manor. Already beginning to put her experience behind her, Kira continued buoyantly, "Now come help me out of this beastly outfit!"
Chapter 40
Lucien had been unsurprised to see Kit and Kira enter the manor house, then dart upstairs together. He guessed that for the next few days it would take a crowbar to separate them. Quite understandable under the circumstances.
He kept his distance, not trusting himself near Kit. It was one thing to intellectually accept that their affair was over, another for him to stop craving her. But surely, in time, that would pass.
After drinking half his glass of brandy, he stood and wandered restlessly across his bedroom. The other two men were relaxing over supper and a celebratory drink, but he had chosen not to join them. He had no appetite, nor did he feel much like celebrating. Michael had frowned when he had excused himself, but had known better than to comment. Friendship was as much a matter of knowing when not to speak as when one should.
He opened the French doors and went out onto the small balcony. The wind was brutally cold, but the storm had blown away, and the moon rode high in the sky. Its cool light refracted brilliantly through the ice that sparkled on every twig and branch. Ice everywhere, especially in his heart.
He leaned against the railing and gazed into the crystalline night, consuming his brandy in slow sips. Perhaps when he was done, he would be able to sleep.
* * *
Kit helped her sister change from the bondage costume to a plain blue gown. With her hair brushed out and falling simply over her shoulders, Kira was beautiful, with the special glow that was uniquely her own. She looked exactly as a woman going to her lover should. Kit guessed that the next time she saw her sister and Jason, the two would be at peace for the first time in years. Certainly Kira would be.
She wanted to change her own clothing, but as soon as her sister left the bedroom, sharp anxiety washed through her. Something was very wrong where Lucien was concerned.
It wasn't until Kit reached out and found silence that she realized that she had become accustomed to feeling him in the background of her mind, rather as she did with her sister. His current blankness was unlike the time when she had feared Kira was dead. Instead, it was as if he had closed a door that had been gradually opening to her.
Suddenly worried, she grabbed the cape and headed though the icy hall toward Lucien's room. Perhaps he was angry because she had wandered off and gotten herself captured. At the time she'd had as little volition as a sleepwalker, but her behavior had complicated events dreadfully. If she and Lucien had stayed together, Kira might have been rescued without any bloodshed—not that Mac
e and the other two were any great loss to society.
Her steps slowed as she approached his room. What if he really didn't want her? What if...?
Before she could lose her nerve, she rapped firmly on his door. No answer. Quietly she turned the knob and went inside.
The lamp was lit and the bed turned down, but he wasn't in it. Cold air gusted from the open French doors. She looked out to see Lucien standing on the balcony, his back to her.
He must have heard the knock, for he said without turning, "No need to check up on me, Michael. Nothing ails me that a night's sleep won't cure."
Uncertainly, she said, "Are you feeling unwell, Lucien?"
His broad shoulders became rigid. After a long pause, he turned and leaned casually against the railing of the balcony. He looked cool and elegant, with no trace of warrior remaining. "Only tired, Kit. It was a busy night."
She walked toward him, tugging the cape closer against the fierce cold. As she did, she realized that she was dressed exactly as her sister had been earlier. Needing to know if he could tell them apart, she offered him Kira's smile and Kira's glow. "Are you sure I'm Kit?"
Guessing that he was being tested, he said ironically, "Of course, even if you are still playing the role of Cassie James." His gaze went to the cape. "I assume that you and Kira exchanged cloaks because she didn't want anything that had come from Mace."
It was a relief that he could unerringly tell them apart. Equally clearly, he still knew how her mind worked. But his expression was as remote and unapproachable as the fallen archangel of his nickname. The silent communication that had been growing between them had vanished as absolutely as if it had never existed.
For an instant she felt a sick certainty that Kira really had dazzled him to the point where he was hoping Kit would quietly fade from his life. Of course, if she told him she was pregnant, he would certainly marry her. But that was not the marriage she wanted.
Her mouth tightened. She had never given up on finding Kira, and she was not going to give up on Lucien until she was absolutely sure he didn't want her.
The sable cape swirling about her calves, she joined him on the balcony. The house was L-shaped with a formal garden lying in the angle between the wings. Not daring to look directly at him, she studied the frozen fountain, which the moonlight had transformed into an opalescent ice sculpture. "I said that when the crisis was over, I would be happy to give you anything you wished that was in my power. Have you decided what you want?"
There was a stillness so profound that she could hear the brittle sound of ice-crusted twigs tapping against each other in the wind. Finally, he said, "What I want is something that can't be given. You're under no obligation to me, Kit. I'm glad I could help find Kira. In the process I found the spies I was seeking, so the scales are balanced. Go and be happy."
It was blatant dismissal. She caught her breath, the frigid air searing her lungs. "You've changed your mind about wanting marriage?"
"Ever since Linnie died, I've been looking in vain for the other half of myself," he said in a voice as bleak as the winter night. "Whenever I sought it in a woman, I found loneliness instead. I hoped that with you, there was a chance of having the emotional intimacy I craved. You are a twin, you know how to give, how to make yourself vulnerable, and how to love without reservation. I wanted all of that."
He braced his hands on the railing and raised his face to the sky. The moonlight gilded his face to impossible handsomeness. Bright star of the morning, most beautiful of God's host, beyond the ken of man—or woman.
"But I was a fool to think it possible to have that kind of closeness with anyone else," he continued. "Elinor and I were born in the same hour, of the same blood. Together we learned to play, to talk, to laugh—to share all our thoughts and emotions. And even with Linnie, that would have waned when we grew up. Perhaps it's as much a curse as a blessing to be a twin, because it gives one an appetite for what can never again be attained."
After a long pause he said in a scarcely audible voice, "I suppose that what I really wanted was to recapture the golden days of my childhood, before I discovered what a painful place the world is. You can't give that time back to me. No one can, any more than I could have replaced Kira in your heart if she had died. She comes first with you. She always will. Tonight I realized that I would not be content with any shreds that are left over, and it's better not to try."
He looked at her then, his eyes a pale, moonstruck green. "It has been a pleasure knowing you, Lady Kathryn. I learned many useful things about myself."
She shivered, the chill of his distance far worse than the bitter wind.
Noticing, he said, "You should go inside. After surviving so much, it's foolish to risk lung fever."
Before she could reply, a light came on in a bedroom in the wing of the house that ran at right angles to the section they were in. Kira was visible in silhouette going to the window to draw the curtains. Before she could, Jason came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him, her head falling against his shoulder with complete trust.
Lucien had seen also, and his hands tightened on the railing. When Kira turned in Jason's arms and they kissed with an intensity that blazed through the night, Lucien turned sharply away and ushered Kit into the bedroom. She agreed entirely; that tableau of tenderness was too private to be seen by any outsider, even a twin.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, Kit. It must hurt to be excluded." He looked at her, that green in his eyes intensifying. "Did you come to me because you felt rejected and wanted company while Kira went to her lover?"
"Good Lord, no!" She took a deep breath, knowing that to break through his barrier of distance, she must be as insightful as he had been in building it. "You're right that being twinborn sets a very high standard for closeness, but I think you're wrong that only a blood tie and a shared childhood can create true intimacy. Being a twin is wonderful, and Kira and I are as close as two sisters can be. Obviously, you and Elinor shared an equally special love."
"But twins are siblings, with all of the advantages and limitations that implies. I hope—I believe—that passion can create a different kind of bond that may be even deeper. I want closeness as much as you do, Lucien. I assumed I would never marry because I didn't think I could find that kind of emotional bond with a man, and I didn't want to settle for less." Her voice broke. "I... I never imagined a man like you. In the last few weeks I've learned there is a kind of intimacy that a woman can find only with a man."
Raw anguish showed in his eyes. He wanted her. Of that she was certain, for it showed in every line of his body. But she knew intuitively that he had already surrendered hope for the black peacefulness of defeat. To reach out for what she was offering was to open himself to loss again. By letting her own fear and confusion come between them, she had made love a risk he no longer dared take.
Since thoughts and fears had become an impassable barrier, it was time to invoke the awesome power of passion. She raised her hand to her throat and unhooked the sable cape, then let it slide from her shoulders in a cascade of lustrous dark fur. Underneath she still wore Mace's satin, leather, and lace.
Lucien tensed as the sexual awareness that was always between them crackled into fire. "Don't do this, Kit," he said tightly. "Sex creates an illusion of closeness, but it vanishes as quickly as ice in the sun. I found out years ago that coupling without the possibility of something deeper was a sure route to desolation."
"You would know that better than I, but surely physical fulfillment is part of what we both want."
His face hardened. "If it's a bedmate you want, look somewhere else. You don't need me."
"You're wrong," she said, voice shaking. "All of my life, Kira was the essential person. Oh, I have loved my mother and Jane and others, but I could and did survive their losses. Only Kira's death would have left me so diminished that I would no longer be the person I once was." She caught her gaze with his. "Now there are two essential pe
ople in my life. I need you as much as I need Kira, but in a different way. You will never be second in my heart, Lucien. There is room enough there for two."
He shook his head, desolation in his eyes. "Even if we both want the same thing, wishing isn't enough to make it happen."
"You're right, wishing isn't enough. We must make it happen." Reaching into herself, she conjured up the sensual allure she had learned as Cassie James. Then she moved toward him, the high-heeled boots making every step an exercise in provocation. Black satin shimmered over the curves of her body and her breasts swayed within the lattice of leather laces. "Can't we at least try one more time?"
"I don't know if I can endure another failure." He stared at her, his chest rising and falling as if he had been running.
In his eyes was fierce longing, yet when she extended her hand, he made no move to accept it. For a moment she despaired. Then she realized what was lacking. She opened her heart, then reached out again. This time she silently offered her love.
Later she could never remember which of them moved first, but they came together with savage abandon. His mouth slanted hard over hers in a wordless cry of yearning, loneliness, and hope. She recognized his tortured emotions, for they found echoes deep inside her. When she kissed him back, it was a plea and a promise.
The desperation between them eased, leaving more room for the primal blaze of passion. "Dear God, Kit," he said huskily as his deft fingers undid the lace thongs, releasing her breasts into his hands. "You're more than mortal man can resist."
"Then don't... resist." Fabric ripped, buttons popped, garments fell as they instinctively sought to bare their bodies as thoroughly as their minds. The bed creaked with protest at the force of their arrival. Then flesh against flesh, musky scent and liquid heat, taut muscle and harsh breath. Passion was the instrument, and intimacy the goal.