Page 32 of Temptation and the Artist

“Your pardon, good sirs,” she said sharply. “Please pay attention to where you are walking and stand aside.”

They both turned then, looking not apologetic but threatening and quite unafraid. Aline had met men like that before, and she had learned never to back down.

“Really, gentlemen?” she drawled. “Going to plant me a facer before all these witnesses?” In fact, she was poised to act before it came to that, but their next move took her by complete surprise. They took an arm each and her reticule, containing her useful dagger, nearly fell from her wrist.

Saving it lost her valuable time, for the men simply hauled her backward away from the game, lifting her right off her feet. And they didn’t let go. She was behind the other watchers now, and it was past time to act. She let her arms go limp, so that her feet sagged to the ground, and then stamped hard on one man’s instep.

Even as he grunted with pain and turned furiously toward her, she brought her knee up sharply. It would have disabled him entirely except his friend upset her balance by hauling her to one side and her knee struck off-center. As it were, he let out a howl of rage and limped.

“Dennis!” she shouted to the nearest footman, for it had all happened so quickly that her own people, concentrating on Basil, hadn’t even noticed.

At her call, both Dennis and Mr. Flowers looked over and as one charged toward her. The men abducting her dragged her faster toward the wood, while she used her feet and elbows to score several hits that only slowed them down very slightly.

Behind Mr. Flowers and Dennis, the other footman, William, pounded across the pitch after her, too.

Aline finally managed to get her foot hooked around the ankle of the man to the right and yanked, tripping him flat on his face.

By then, Mr. Flowers and Dennis were almost upon them. Her attacker still standing didn’t even look at his friend. He just took off into the trees. Dennis hared past her after him while Mr. Flowers threw himself on top of the tripped one who had been trying to rise.

And that was when, on the football pitch, she saw a well-dressed man take Basil by the arm. He went willingly enough, but the blood sang in her ears, pounding in time with her heart.

She was already flying across the ground toward Basil as she yelled, “It was a ruse! They’re after Basil!” They had drawn his guardians away by pretending to take her. William at least should have stayed with Basil, but it was instinct to save someone under attack, and no one else seemed to have paid her any attention.

They attended now, getting smartly out of the way of the demented woman charging and leaping across the ground, keeping parallel with Basil and the man who marched him toward a gate to the road. Where a carriage and four horses awaited.

“Basil, wait!” she yelled, and at last he looked to the side and saw her. He stopped dead, and when his abductor tried to urge him on, he fought him. Good boy, slow him down, just a few more moments…

Behind her, she knew Mr. Flowers and the footmen were following, but sheer panic had lent her feet wings. She had never run so fast in her life.

Basil, however, was no match for a grown man who yanked him roughly onward. Someone else held the gate open and slammed it as she approached. She didn’t even slow to unlatch it but gathered her skirts and leapt over it, coming to land right beside the carriage.

“Mama!” Basil clung with desperate little fingers to the side of the carriage door, while two men she knew very well tried to push him inside the carriage.

Philippe Monteigne snatched him under his arm and hauled him into the carriage. Gaston threw himself in after them and the horses began to move forward even before the door was closed. As Gaston reached for it, she jumped, landing on the coach floor, and the door slammed shut behind her.

“Mama!” From the seat, Basil dropped onto the floor beside her. Aline rose enough to clutch him to her, and over his shoulder, panting with her exertions, she glared at her first husband’s uncle and cousin.

“Tie her hands,” Philippe said mildly. “And do it quickly.”

*

Stephen was pleased with his morning’s work. His paintings bade fair to be most things that he had wanted of them. With just a few more adjustments, they could be good. Really good. Possibly the best he had ever done.

And now it was time to go and see Aline again, and that prospect, even in company with her son and other people, sent his pulses racing with happiness. Since coming to Renwick’s, his life seemed to have changed quite drastically. He had come contentedly pursuing a career that was becoming successful. It was all he had truly wanted of life.

And now there was Aline, and everything was suddenly sharper. Emotions, observations, desires. As though, at last, he had come fully alive. He wanted Aline in his life. And Basil. He wanted to take on her quarrel with Basil’s family, protect her, and make her happy.

But that was in the future. Things were already moving too fast between them. Not that he would have it any other way. He grinned to himself as he threw off his painting shirt and reached for his coat.

Time for a little luncheon and to hear all about Basil’s football game. And Aline, Aline, Aline…

Striding toward the door, he saw a folded piece of paper on the floor in front of it. Had he been so lost in his work that he hadn’t heard a knock? He bent and picked it up, hoping he had not missed Aline.

It was addressed to Mr. Dornan.

My dear Mr. Dornan,

I have been called away suddenly. No doubt we shall meet again someday.

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