that looked precisely the same as every other dingy and dirty alley in the district.
Gideon gave a rap on the carriage roof and awaited the coachman to slow to a halt. The door was pulled open by a footman, but on the point of climbing out Gideon paused to give the boy across from him a stern glance.
“You are to remain here.”
“But, sir ...”
“Have no fear, I shall return momentarily,” he retorted in firm tones.
Confident that he would be obeyed, he slipped out of the carriage and made his way toward the alley. Ignoring the sudden hush that settled through the neighborhood he readily stepped between the overhanging buildings, his form flowing with the skilled grace of a hunter and his vision as sharply clear during the night as during the day. Such eerily fluid movements should have warned all that he was not a foolish dandy out on a lark, but as he had expected he had only to take a few steps before there was a sudden scrap on the cobblestones behind him.
“Right then, turn about nice and slow,” a harsh voice ordered.
Gideon readily complied, his narrowed gaze taking in the thin countenance and mismatched clothing. Although a small, wiry man, there was no mistaking the hard edge to his features nor the gleam of a large knife he held in his hand.
In no mood to tangle with the experienced thief, Gideon softly spoke the words of power that would briefly compel the man to his will.
“I need information and you will provide it, is that understood?” he demanded in tones too low to carry.
There was a brief silence as the thief struggled to battle the spell that clouded his mind before he was giving a grudging nod of his head.
“Yes.”
Gideon stepped closer, his senses fully aware to every sound and scent that filled the alley. He would not be caught unaware by Tristan. Nor any of his slaves.
“There was a prostitute pulled from the river this evening. Did you know her?”
“Called herself Clorinda, she did, but more than likely it were a name she made up to make herself sound more an actress than a tart.”
Gideon waved a dismissive hand. He possessed no interest in the woman’s name, only the reason she had been so flagrantly disposed of.
“Did you see her leave yesterday evening?”
There was a reluctant nod. “Yes.”
“Did she leave with a gentleman?”
“She left with any number of gentlemen.”
Gideon reined in his impatience. “Tell me of the last gentleman who hired her services.”
Even though in Gideon’s power the thief gave a visible shudder. “A fancy bloke with a cape.”
“Did he have a carriage?”
“Yes, black with no crest on it. They took off toward the docks.”
It was too much to hope that Tristan would have been foolish enough to leave a clue to his current lair. He would have to know that Gideon would far prefer to face him when his powers were at their weakest.
“Did you hear him say anything?” he demanded with an edge of annoyance.
“He told her to take down her hair.”
Caught off guard Gideon felt those prickles of warning once again flare through him.
“Why?”
“Said he was wanting a woman with long blond hair. Seemed very particular about that.”
Gideon clenched his teeth as a wave of fury threatened to destroy his cool logic.
He suddenly understood the reason for the savage, highly visible attack.
Tristan was taunting him.
The renegade desired him to realize that Simone would suffer a similar fate if he failed.
His hands clenched as the image of her slender body battered and ravaged seared through his mind. Tristan would be merciless given the opportunity to punish the maiden for standing in his way.
Far more merciless than he had been to the golden-haired harlot.
For the first time in his eternal existence Gideon experienced a sharp flare of fear.
Simone screamed as the whip cut into the soft skin of her back. She wanted to be strong. To pretend that she was impervious to the punishment her sister so readily offered. But the leather thong continued to fall, tearing open her tender flesh and sending blood flooding down to the stone floor. She struggled against the ropes that bound her hands, unable to halt herself from pleading for mercy. From behind she heard her sister laughing....
Without warning Simone discovered she was no longer in the darkened wine cellar but riding in an elegant carriage. She was attired in a dark wool gown that scratched at her skin and effectively disguised her slender curves. They were traveling through the peaceful countryside but Simone felt a tingle of alarm flare through her. She knew that somewhere in the distance was a band of highwaymen that were awaiting their approach. Desperate thugs who would kill without warning. She tried to open her mouth and warn the coachman, but she could not speak....
