Lord of Fire by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online

chills running down her spine. Just what kind of man had her sister-in-law become involved with? she wondered in growing uneasiness. Caro had described Lucien Knight as a worldly, sophisticated, dangerously cunning chargé d’affaires of the Foreign Office who spoke six or seven languages, but what sort of man kept armed guards posted around his house, required a password at his gates, and held a party in an underground cave? She knew she should turn back, yet the soft, whispering sound drew her onward. Her heart pounding, she slowly walked into the cave.
    Torches jutted from the walls, illuminating the glistening stalactites here and there like great dragon’s teeth. As she ventured deeper into the cave, the mysterious sound grew louder; then she smelled the bracing scent of freshwater and suddenly realized what it was—an underground river. She had seen the cascade flowing out of the rock when her carriage had crossed the little wooden bridge. Her guess was confirmed when she rounded a bend in the tunnel and came to the river itself. At last, she saw people. Here the footmen were assisting the robed guests into fanciful gondolas. On the bow of each playfully shaped boat, a torch burned, reflecting the glossy onyx surface of the subterranean river. One of the servants beckoned
Alice over.
    “Hurry, please, madam. We can fit you aboard this one,” he called briskly.
    Alice hesitated, her heart pounding wildly. If she got on that gondola, she knew she might not get another chance to back out—but then the people in the boat began yelling at her, as rowdy and impatient as they had been on the road.
    “Hurry up!”
    “Are you daft, woman?”
    “Don’t just stand there. We’re already late!”
    Simple, obstinate pride barred her from fleeing like a coward in front of so many people. Not daring to think what her dear brother would have had to say about this, she hurried forward and accepted the servant’s hand, climbing aboard the gondola. After she had taken a seat, the boatman shoved off with his pole, slowly ferrying the passengers deeper into the limestone caves. She tucked her slippered feet under her and folded her hands primly in her lap.
    “Now we’re going to be even later,” someone grumbled in the seat behind her.
    Alice glanced anxiously over her shoulder. She was beginning to feel jumpy and scared, but it was too late now.
    “Don’t mind them,” the portly drunkard seated next to her slurred. Short and balding, he looked like Friar Tuck from the Robin Hood tales, his sloppy brown robe pulled taut over his potbelly. “We’ve probably missed the service, but personally, I only come for the party.”
    Service? she wondered, eyeing him in trepidation.
    He smiled at her, his eyelids sagging with intoxication. “What about you?” he prodded. “Lady of pleasure or a true believer?”
    Alice just looked at him warily, edging away from him in her seat while the gondola glided gracefully through the ink-black water. She did not talk to strangers, especially leering, drunken males. Besides, she had no wish to reveal the fact that she had no idea what he was talking about.
    He studied her with a shrewd sparkle in his small, brown eyes. “You can call me Orpheus.”
    He spoke with the hard r ’s and exaggerated vowels of an American, which seemed odd, since
England and
America were at war. The newspapers had reported that British ships were still blockading the bay at
New Orleans, just as they had off and on since 1812. Just then, the fluttering of some bats above distracted her. She quickly looked up and wrapped her arms around herself with a grimace, only to realize she should have been more worried about Orpheus, who sidled ever closer to her with a slight, lewd grin.
    “You’re new, aren’t you? Shy little thing. Young, too,” he whispered, laying his hand on her thigh.
    The violence with which she recoiled from him rocked the boat. “Sir!”
    Orpheus withdrew his hand, laughing at her. “Never