Winds of Nightsong. V. J. Banis

his erection begin to subside. “You still haven’t told me the reason for this sudden visit and why you kept it secret from me until you were almost here,” he snapped.

      “Please, Marcus, don’t be angry with me.”

      “I’m not angry. I just want to know why you’ve come.” He knew he was acting like a schoolboy, but he couldn’t help it. He had grown accustomed to Denise’s compliance; she always was so quick to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He’d expected as much from Amelia. And now he felt a little cheated. Or was he acting spoiled? he asked himself. Whichever, he was aching for sex and she was depriving him of it.

      “Well,” she said brightly, ignoring his dark mood. “There’s quite a to-do going on between your mother and Lorna MacNair.”

      “What kind of a to-do?”

      “There’s going to be another lawsuit unless we do something to avoid it.”

      “Lawsuit,” Marcus groaned. “Good Lord, I had hoped we were finished with the Nightsong-MacNair scandals.”

      Amelia hurriedly told him how Lydia had invited her to the mansion and explained the whole situation. “Lorna MacNair is instituting a suit against Lydia for control of fifty percent of Empress Cosmetics and all of MacNair Products,” Amelia said.

      “Mother mentioned something about it in her last letter, but she said it was nothing to worry about.” He started to reach for Amelia’s hand but decided against it. “At least Mother’s back at the helm of the company again. I was worried about her before I left San Francisco. She seemed so terribly determined to stop living after burying Father.”

      “She’s rallied beautifully. You know how Lydia can stiffen her back whenever there’s a fight to be had with Lorna MacNair.”

      “I still don’t understand what any of that has to do with your coming here so unexpectedly.”

      “It was your mother’s idea. Lydia didn’t want anyone to know what she intends doing to avoid a scandalous lawsuit.”

      “And what would that be?”

      “I’m a sort of emissary. I left San Francisco in quite a cloud of secrecy so Lorna MacNair wouldn’t know what was going on. Lydia told me to contact you after I got out to sea and to arrange that we meet in England. We’re to communicate with Adam Clarendon.”

      “Adam? What on earth for?”

      “He’s Lorna MacNair’s grandson, isn’t he?”

      “So?”

      “Lydia wants us to talk Adam into returning to San Francisco, just for a short while. She thinks that Adam might be able to reconcile the MacNairs and the Nightsongs.”

      “I don’t see how.”

      “You don’t realize what Adam means to Mrs. MacNair.”

      “She scarcely acknowledged him when Mother took him home for Father’s funeral.”

      “Lorna was grief-stricken over Peter’s death. You’re really a MacNair too, you know, just as Adam is. Lydia thinks Lorna will have second thoughts when she sees Adam again. After all, it was quite a shock to have him appear out of nowhere, looking so much like her dead son. The way your mother sees it, Adam might be able to fix everything. “

      “I still don’t understand how.”

      “You know your mother is more or less immune to scandal, whereas Lorna MacNair will do anything to keep her family skeletons buried. A law suit is one thing but a scandal is another, and Lydia intends to threaten Lorna with a very steamy scandal unless she backs off with this lawsuit business. Oh, Lydia’s perfectly willing to give up MacNair Products, but she has no intention of handing Lorna any part of Empress Cosmetics. According to the MacNair lawyers, Lorna is going to try and get all of Empress Cosmetics for herself and make your mother a pauper.”

      “She’d hardly be that.”

      “By the time Lorna finishes with her, Lydia will have nothing. Empress Cosmetics, she told me, hasn’t been doing all that well since Nightsong can’t be reproduced without Raymond Andrieux.”

      “Leon wrote me that he is working in the laboratory developing Nightsong Two. He said it should be almost exactly like the original Nightsong.”

      “Almost but not exactly like Nightsong. There’s a gamble involved, as you know.”

      Marcus shook his head. “It’s all too confusing. I don’t see how Mother can blackmail Lorna MacNair with Adam.” He gave her a sharp look. “And that’s what she’s trying to do: blackmail her by threatening to make a scandal out of all this.”

      “You aren’t aware of the facts, obviously. Lydia told me in the strictest of confidence that it was Lorna and her hired detective, a man by the name of Ramsey, who took Adam away from April that night. Leon found out about it. Lydia is going to expose Lorna’s whole kidnapping plot unless she behaves herself.”

      “Lorna MacNair kidnapped her own grandson?” Marcus said, astonished.

      Amelia nodded. “There’s proof.”

      “Then why doesn’t Mother just confront Lorna and be done with it? What does she need Adam for?”

      “She wants Adam there as some sort of insurance. Lydia will confront Lorna and, with Adam staying in the Nightsong mansion, apply further pressure by threatening to tell him the whole truth. That would presumably turn Adam completely against his paternal grandmother.”

      “And Mother thinks Lorna cares enough about Adam for this to work?”

      “Lydia is certain of it. It’s been over a year since Lorna buried her husband. Since then she’s been living alone. Her son seldom comes to see her, and I know for a fact that Susan wants nothing to do with Lorna. So Lorna is completely alone. Lydia thinks she will snap at the chance of having a grandson to dote on.”

      “And what about me? I’m actually a MacNair, though a bastard.”

      “Do watch your language, Marcus. Honestly, I don’t understand this sudden change in you since you’ve come to live in France.”

      “Sorry.”

      No, Amelia was the one who was sorry. Why had she corrected him? She’d heard the word often enough. Why object to his using it now? Habit, she told herself. Damned habit. She could see that Marcus had grown a little wilder and she wished with all her heart that she’d been with him this whole time so that she too could have had the opportunity to shake off all her inhibitions, get rid of her old Victorian ideals. She wanted to flirt outrageously, pull up her skirt and show her legs, but she couldn’t bring herself to do either.

      Something shrivelled inside Marcus at Amelia’s admonition. It was true, he had changed drastically since making Paris his home. He was accustomed to saying whatever he thought, using whatever words came to him.

      He’d forgotten how proper and staid Amelia and the other young ladies of San Francisco could be. He’d gotten used to the earthy girls of Paris who didn’t care a hoot about showing a lot of ankle or swaying their asses or giving a seductive wink. The girls here didn’t make such a big deal about going to bed with a man. They were freer, more open and honest, and they didn’t live by the double standard. Marriage was something they entered into for security; sex was something they enjoyed simply for the pleasure of it.

      Amelia was nothing like the girls he’d recently grown to like. Still, when he looked at Amelia’s beautiful face, her radiant purity, all he wanted to do was rip her clothes from her body and make her moan for the need of him.

      Amelia sat silent for a moment. “Where can we find Adam?”

      Marcus shrugged. “At Clarendon Hall, I suppose. I haven’t seen him since Father’s funeral. But he’s still a Clarendon insofar as anyone over here knows. Mother was very careful to emphasize that nobody here must know Adam’s true identity.