"Which is not going to be necessary," Lani guessed shrewdly. "Is it?"
She shook her head. "But he won't let me go with him, and France is far away. It's going to be difficult."
"We will find another way." Lani moved toward the door. "I'll go tell the old one the English have fallen asleep out here and not to disturb them. It's fortunate she wishes not to displease them; she may actually obey me. I'll be back soon and we'll take turns watching them."
"No, I'll do it. You stay inside and make sure Clara doesn't come out to the veranda."
Danemount suddenly stirred.
Cassie stiffened in alarm, but he didn't open his eyes. Thank the Lord. She was not prepared to confront him yet. "Lani, would it be possible for you to go to the stable and bring some rope?"
Lani nodded. "Good idea. I'll see if I can get past the guards in the garden."
After Lani left, Cassie slowly sat down in a cushioned chair and gazed at Danemount's face. Even in sleep he looked guarded and dangerous. What would he be like when he woke?
She would have to worry about that later. She had other concerns right now. She leaned her head against the back of the chair and tried to relax. She had a little time before the Englishman woke, and she would spend it trying to find a solution to the problem facing them.
Danemount stirred three times in the hours that followed. Cassie tensed on every occasion but then relaxed when he returned to sleep. It was near three in the morning before he finally opened his eyes.
She held her breath as she saw his drowsiness vanish. "My God, you poisoned me."
"I did not," she said quickly. "I only drugged you."
"Only?"
"It was necessary."
"I'm sure Lucrezia Borgia said the same after she used her poison ring."
Lucrezia. That was whom he had meant when he had called her by that name. "Lani said that there's some doubt Lucrezia Borgia ever used poison, and I certainly did not. I only used a few drops of laudanum in the syllabub to put you to sleep."
"Laudanum? That can be a dangerous potion. How did you know how much was safe to give us?"
She squared her shoulders, prepared for battle. "I didn't know. I took a chance."
"I suppose I should count myself fortunate to wake at all," he said with lethal softness. He glanced at the still-slumbering Bradford. "Is he alive?"
"Of course he is. He should wake soon."
"He had better." His gaze moved back to her. "Or you'll join him in his sleep."
Dear God, he was angry. His voice was low, almost silky, his face without expression, but she could sense an icy rage beneath that composure. "Threats will do you no good. I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be. If you knew my- What the devil!" He had started to sit up and discovered the cords around his wrists. He went rigid. "You've bound me!
His rage was no longer controlled, and she tried to ignore the fear that spiraled through her. "Yes, both wrists and ankles." She added with bravado, "Trussed like a pig for the roasting."
He stopped struggling. "Or for the assassin's knife? When do you expect your father, Madam Borgia?"
"I'm not-" She broke off and drew a deep breath. "And my father would never kill a helpless man."
"No more than his daughter would chance killing a man with a potion she knows nothing about."
"Would you have stood by and let someone set a trap for a person you loved without trying to stop him?"
"I would have tried to find-" He wearily shook his head. "No, I suppose I would have done the same."
His honesty took her off guard, and a little of her anger ebbed. "I tried to be careful with the laudanum," she said haltingly.
"How comforting." His lips twisted. "You didn't answer. When do you expect your father?"
"I don't. I've already seen him." She paused. "And by now he's no longer on the island."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No, you'll probably go to Kamehameha and question the islanders and waste a good deal of time. It will do you little good. Kamehameha wanted my father safe and arranged to send him away."
He studied her. "By God, I believe you're telling the truth. Now, why would you tell me he's no longer here? It would give him a head start if I searched this island first before going to the other islands."
"Because I don't want him to have too much of a head start."
Surprise flickered in his expression. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"I wanted him to go to Maui, but he wouldn't do it. He sailed for Boston at midnight. From there he'll make his way to France."
"Indeed," he murmured. "Now, why did he do that?"
"Raoul Cambre."
His expression hardened. "Ah, yes, like to like. He went running to beg help from his fellow conspirator."
"He's not like that man," she said fiercely. "And he didn't go for help. He went to see if he was wrong in his judgment of Cambre. He wanted to know if-" She broke off as she saw his skeptical expression. She would never be able to convince him of anything he didn't want to believe. "What difference does it make why he went? You don't care."
"But I do care where he's hiding. Where in France?"
"I don't know."
"But you have an idea."
"Perhaps." She had pitifully few scraps of information garnered from that long-ago encounter with Cambre, and only one name-Jacques-Louis David. She was not even sure the artist was still alive. "Perhaps not."
"Now the pertinent question. Why tell me anything at all?"
"Because I couldn't afford to have you waste time here when we could be on our way to France."
He didn't speak for a moment. "We?"
She took a deep breath and then said in a rush, "I'm going with you."
His expression remained impassive. "I don't believe you were invited. Why should I be interested in taking you with me?"
She had known he would ask that question and was prepared. "For the same reason you were keeping me prisoner here. I'd be a hostage to draw my father into your net."
"My, how accommodating you've become. You're now willing to be bait for the trap?"
"No, I'll escape at the earliest opportunity. I'm merely telling you what advantage you'd see in taking me. I didn't say that it would be a true advantage."
He looked taken aback, and then the faintest smile quirked his lips. "I see. You wish to use me and then flee."
She nodded. "Few ships stop here, and it might be months before I'd be able to follow my father to France."
"And why would you want to follow him?"
"I don't want my father destroyed. I don't trust Cambre."
"Nor me."
"Of course not."
"So you intend to save him from both of us." He shook his head. "You won't succeed."
"I will."
"Shall I let you try?" He tilted his head as if to consider it. "Untie me and we'll discuss it."
She shook her head.
"Why not?" he asked softly. "If your father has really left the island, then you have nothing to fear."
"Not until dawn. I want to make sure he's well away before I let you go."
The answer clearly did not please him. "I dislike intensely being bound like this," he said through his teeth. "I have no fondness for feeling helpless."
She could see he didn't. A man of his control would hate being robbed of it, but it was the strength of his response that she found most unusual. He appeared to resent the ropes more than the drugging. "At dawn."
"No, by God. Now. I won't-" He broke off as he saw her stubborn expression. "I could cry out and bring the guards from the garden."