A joke from J.B. was as rare as a benevolent stickie, and Ryan grinned broadly. “Nice one, bro,” he said, then turned to Krysty.
“How about you, lover?”
She looked across the dining room at the gray morning and the steady trickle of water across the windows from a blocked gutter. “You go, Ryan. I can find something to do around the house. Wouldn’t mind some time in that library.”
WHEN THEY FILED OUT, Ryan saw the countess standing by the front door, idly running her fingers across the pattern of a beautiful inlaid table, veneered with a dozen different colors of marble. She beckoned to him.
He gestured to the others to go along. “Be with you in a minute,” he said. “Then I’ll get myself ready to go out into the grounds.”
Straub was suddenly at his shoulder, almost shepherding him toward the woman. “Before we go for our walk, Ryan, how about a small drink in my room to warm us? I have an excellent liqueur brewed from peaches and cherries. Just the stuff to keep away the cold and wet.”
“Why not?”
The countess turned to face him, smiling, the mask back in place again. “A last question. And I promise I will not ask you again. I have never met a man who I more wanted to father a child for me. It is a small matter. A few minutes that may even prove enjoyable for both of us. Please, Ryan.” She reached out with a studied impulsiveness and gripped his hand tightly and stared into his face. “I beg you.”
He shook his head. “Not the way I live my life, Countess. I’m real honored, but you have to look elsewhere. Can’t believe you wouldn’t find a long line of men ready and willing and probably able. Sorry.”
She nodded and let go of his hand, keeping her noble smile pasted firmly in place. “I understand. Just remember this moment, Ryan, and the price it may cost. Talk comes very cheap, but the price of action can be colossal.”
The countess turned away without any further explanation, walking quickly along the hall until she vanished into the pool of shadows that melted at the bottom of the wide main staircase, leaving Ryan alone with Straub.
THE RAIN WAS still falling, sheeting gray and desolate across the trees and leaf-strewed lawns outside the window of Straub’s room.
It was a large chamber, with an in suite bathroom. The walls were draped with black velvet, sprinkled with silver-and-gold stars and moons. A number of small round tables, inset with chalcedony and onyx, were set around the room, bearing crystal globes and odd-angled prisms. There was a sofa upholstered in deepest purple and a single bed, narrow and uncomfortable.
“Sit down,” Straub said. “I’ll get a couple of glasses for a sip of my sable nectar. Then we can brave the elements. It will be a fine sight.”
The one thing that Ryan coped with badly was boredom. He needed to be up and moving, and the sudden illness of Doc had meant that they were hanging around the ville for longer than he wanted. He knew that without action his razored combat reflexes became blurred and his concentration wandered.
But a walk in the bracing rain would make him feel better, and a small drink with the bastard, Straub, couldn’t do much harm.
He sipped at the tiny engraved glass, the jet black liqueur tasting oddly sweet and bitter. But there was the delicious flavor of tart cherries and summer-ripe peaches.
“To wishes fulfilled and enemies confounded,” Straub said, raising his own glass. “Good, is it not, Ryan?”
“Excellent.” It had a warming glow as it slipped down. He drained the glass, looking at the few sticky drops that remained in the bottom.
“Another?” He reached out to pour a second measure, smiling at Ryan as he did so.
Straub lit a number of long purple sticks of incense, filling the room with a heavy scent of lime and ginger. It seemed to be darker, and the bald man switched on a very bright overhead light that focused down onto the table where he and Ryan were sitting. Ryan closed his eye for a moment, blinking at the dazzle, aware that he was feeling more tired than he’d thought.