Lazlo’s Last Stand

“Edesem…edesem…”

It was sometime deep in the night, after he’d kissed his restless love and told her again to sleep, that it came to him, the reason why he couldn’t seem to follow his own advice, and instead lay wide-awake with a sense of dread lying cold and heavy on his heart.

He’d made a terrible mistake.

Lucia loved him. Loved him the way she did everything, wholeheartedly, completely, passionately. And, dammit, the devil take her promises-she was never going to let him go alone to face Cassandra! He knew her too well. Lioness that she was, and having already convinced herself-admittedly with some good reason-that she’d saved his life once, she would find a way to be at his side, or at least his back, during the next confrontation. That clever and agile mind of hers had probably already figured out a dozen ways to thwart whatever plan he might come up with to prevent her from following him back to Paris.

In the bleakest, coldest hours of the night it came to him. He knew there was one way, and probably only one way, to undo his mistake. One way he might convince her to stay here, where she’d be safe. And that was to break her heart.

Corbett was gone when Lucia woke up. She knew before she opened her eyes that there was only emptiness where his warm body had been, silence instead of the deep, masculine breathing that had found its way into the rhythm of her sleep. Only his scent remained, and she gathered the pillow that held it into her arms and pressed her face to it and tried to make the pain inside her stop.

He’s gone.

She curled herself into a ball around Corbett’s pillow while the battle between anger and misery raged within her, tearing her throat with dry, tearless sobs and tying her stomach in knots.

She’d known he’d try to slip away without disturbing her, and she’d tried so hard to stay awake. Several times she’d jerked herself out of a doze to find his arms still around her and heard him whisper, “Shh, edesem, go back to sleep.”

And so she had, and he’d left her without saying goodbye.

As she lay wrapped in her ball of misery, she heard a clatter from the kitchen-most uncharacteristic of Kati, who somehow managed her culinary miracles with a minimum of disturbance, save for her singing. Lucia sat bolt upright in bed, adrenaline shivering through her body, heartbeat thumping. Maybe he hasn’t gone yet. He must still be here, in the kitchen, having his breakfast, his coffee. I can still catch him!

She scrambled out of bed and tore through her suitcase, snatching up items of clothing without regard to type or style. Somehow, jangled and shaking, desperate to think Corbett would finish his coffee and leave and she’d have missed him by only seconds, she managed to throw on a pair of jeans and a soft-knit pullover-sans underwear. Barefooted and breathless, she threw open the kitchen door.

He was there, not relaxing at the table with his coffee, as she’d imagined, but rinsing his plate and cup at the sink-the source of the clattering crockery that had alerted her. He turned at the sound of the opening door to look at her.

And several realizations hit her in the blink of an eye.

His face had registered no surprise or chagrin at seeing her there.

Of course! He can move like a cat when he wants to. He made that noise on purpose, to wake me.

But there was no leap of joy in her heart. She’d already seen his eyes.

Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

Fear with neither name nor shape crawled coldly along the back of her neck.

Corbett watched her face, saw her skin go from sleep-flushed to gray, noted the way her taut nipples pushed against the soft material of her shirt and the way she folded her arms protectively across them. She was sensitive, as well as brilliant. Of course she already knew something was wrong. She’d sensed it the way a doe senses danger.

“Sorry I woke you,” he said with a small, tight smile, steeling himself for what had to be. “I meant-”

“-to steal away like a thief in the night-I know.” She came to him and lifted her face for his kiss. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“Why, indeed,” he said dryly. He kissed her with lips that didn’t soften-however much they wanted to-then gripped her arms and put her firmly from him. “Perhaps because I knew you’d try to persuade me to let you come along. You are going to try, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but Corbett-”

“Lucia.” He closed his eyes and ran a weary hand over them. “We’ve been through all this. I don’t want you-”

“Corbett, I won’t be a liability. I think I’ve proven that I can handle myself in a crisis situation. I know you think-”

“Good God, Lucia, you have no idea what I think!” He spun away from her, in part because he couldn’t bear to see the flush of earnestness on her cheeks, the fire in her eyes, in part because he couldn’t let her see the anguish in his.

When he had himself in hand again, he said coldly, “The fact is, I don’t want you in this fight with me. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t.” But she said it faintly, and he could see she was beginning to.

He swore under his breath. Raked a hand through his hair. “Look-Lucia. I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t.” He paused, then let it go in an angry rush. “You really are going to make me say this, aren’t you? Dammit, I can’t let you back me up in this fight, because…hell, the truth is, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

She stood absolutely still, head slightly tilted, as if straining to hear some faraway sound. The silence between them rang in Corbett’s ears like a clamoring of bells.

After what seemed like whole minutes had passed, she whispered, “You think I’m the mole?”

He had to grip the back of a chair and pray for the strength to finish, looking her straight in her hurt-filled eyes. “My dear, you are one of three people in the world it could possibly be.”

She gave her head a disbelieving shake. “But…last night-”

“Ah-yes. Last night.” He smiled crookedly. “Last night I may not have been thinking clearly-certainly not with my brain, at any rate. In the clear light of day it’s simply not possible to ignore the fact that there are only three people with means, opportunity and know-how to feed information to Cassandra. And of those three, I’ve known both Edward and Adam a whole lot longer than I have you.” He shrugged and wondered whether his expression looked as sick as he felt. “Sorry, love. But until I know for certain, I’d rather not have you along when push comes to shove. Do you understand?”

She opened her mouth, cleared her throat and, finally, incapable of speech, simply nodded.

“Good. All right then. I’ll be off.” He pushed himself away from the chair that had been his anchor and support and moved jerkily to the door. He didn’t kiss her…couldn’t bear to touch her. He took his coat and hat from their hooks near the door and half turned, not quite looking at her. “You won’t be able to contact me, so just sit tight until you hear from me-understand?” He didn’t wait to hear her reply.

In the passageway he paused to take deep breaths and swear softly and vehemently at the ceiling in two languages. For a few insane moments he was bitterly angry, not with himself, as would have been well-deserved and reasonable, but with her. With Lucia. Damned quick, she’d been, to swallow the whole load of lies. Had she so little belief in him? Did his words of love mean nothing to her, that she could think him capable of being such an unmitigated cad?

But then…he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Of course. It was too new, this thing between them. Too fragile and untried. She’d be full of wonder and uncertainty, as he was.

And it hit him then-the worst thing about the terrible lies he’d spoken to her was that maybe they weren’t lies at all. That maybe, just maybe, deep down inside, he did have his doubts about Lucia even now.

They hadn’t yet learned to trust each other. He wondered whether…he hoped and prayed…they still could.

Lucia’s knees buckled and she sank heavily into a fortuitously placed chair. For a long time she felt nothing. Not sorrow, grief or even outrage. Just…nothing.

Then gradually, like a rumbling beginning far away and moving steadily closer, closer, she could hear words, words that grew louder and louder until they were a thunder inside her head she could no longer ignore.