He would not mention his friend Tamsyn to this man. “Not much.”
Voice hard-edged, Bastien said, “You go by the name Caden Tremayne, but you’re the bastard son of a Cornish smuggler named Jago Evans.”
Cade hesitated again as the image of a small dark-haired girl with large speaking eyes appeared in his mind. Ellen? No, Eselde. His daughter? No, not that, but the child was important to him. With a brief flash of knowledge, he remembered that she was the young daughter of Jago Evans, his half sister. He couldn’t remember anything more about her except that now she was safe from Jago.
He shrugged and resumed eating. Bastien’s information might be accurate, but it didn’t seem relevant at the moment.
“I’m going to have to wake you up a bit to learn anything worthwhile,” the other man muttered. He approached Cade and laid a hand on his forehead.
Cade jerked back from a jolt that felt like electricity. His mind was immediately clearer, though he knew he was still far less acute than he should be. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Bastien. “Why am I here?”
He must have looked dangerous because Bastien stepped back out of Cade’s reach. “You are said to be strongly gifted, one of the Home Office’s most effective agents.” He frowned. “A pity you weren’t accompanied by Bran Tremayne, who is said to be equally effective but more intelligent.”
Bran!Cade’s brother of the heart if not of the blood. Several images appeared in his mind. Bran as a small but preternaturally wise child. The two of them standing together against the world. Laughter and kindness and soul-deep trust.
From Bastien’s expression, he expected Cade to be insulted at being told his brother was more intelligent. Amused, Cade said, “Bran is indeed more intelligent than I am. Too intelligent to be here in France.”
Bastien scowled. “He might have been here if you hadn’t insisted on bringing your bit of fluff instead!”
It was Cade’s turn to frown. “Bit of fluff?”
“The little blonde. Very pretty, but I doubt she’s useful outside of a bed. Your wife, I assume.”
So Tamsyn was more than a friend. She was hiswife! No wonder they were so close. No wonder he’d been haunted by dreams of holding her. “Did she escape the riot at the port?”
“I believe so. She reached your ship when it was boarding.” Bastien shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention because you were the one I was after.”
Cade finished his wine. “Again, I wonder why.”
“You know things about Britain’s intelligence activities that I wish to learn,” Bastien said. “You can answer my questions when I ask politely, or I can torture you to get the answers. Answering my questions would be quicker, but torture would be more interesting. The choice is yours.”
“I doubt I know much of interest.” Cade bared his teeth. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, so bring on the red-hot knives.”
“I have a gift for persuading people to do what I want.” Bastien moved forward, raising his hand again.
Cade grabbed the length of chain in both hands and whipped it into his captor’s ribs with vicious force, wishing the chain was long enough to do more damage. Bastien howled and staggered backward, clutching his left side. “You bastard!”
Bastien recovered enough to make a wild swing at Cade and managed to land an open-palmed slap on Cade’s face, striking his left eye and part of his forehead. Excruciating pain ripped through Cade’s face and head. Red-hot knives would have hurt less, he thought dizzily as he fell back onto the bed and slid into darkness.
CHAPTER11
Tamsyn jerked awake as pain slashed through her. Cade’s pain, she realized. As a healer, she automatically neutralized it, but the aftermath left her shaken. Dimly she realized that the Scorpion must have a gift for inflicting pain. She’d heard of such an ability but had never known anyone who had it. Tamsyn couldn’t think of any use for such a gift other than torture.
She swore under her breath as she reached out to Cade. He was sleeping, she thought, recovering. She must find the best way to mitigate Cade’s pain, because surely there would be more such assaults on him.
“Tamsyn!” She was jolted by a mental call from Bran, who must have felt his brother’s pain as keenly as she had. They couldn’t speak in words, so she sent an image of Cade, alive but imprisoned.
She sensed that Bran wanted to come to France to rescue his brother. She sent a powerfulNo!Since they couldn’t speak with actual words, she created a mental image of France as a hellish red fire burning a British flag.
He seemed taken aback, so he must have understood some of what she was trying to express. Then his wife, Merryn, joined her mind to Bran’s and Tamsyn’s. She was powerfully gifted but never knew it until she’d met Bran, and she was still learning what she could do. She brought calm and clarity to their exchange, and her presence steadied Tamsyn. “Tomorrow morning,” Merryn seemed to be whispering. “Tomorrow . ..”
Tamsyn sent thanks and agreement, then forced herself to relax. The last fortnight had been exhausting and today had been an endless nightmare. She rolled onto her side and clutched the pillow to her chest. Tonight she would sleep, and order her deepest mind to come up with a plan for tomorrow.
* * *
The window in Tamsyn’s attic room faced east, and the sunrise wakened her. She lay motionless in the bed and went over the events of the day before. Seeing Cade attacked and kidnapped had been shatteringly painful, but she forced herself to go through that scene again and again, this time looking for any clues that might help her learn more about the Scorpion so she could track him.
The fierce, destructive energy displayed in his earlier threats against the ambassadorial party made him easy to identify. Might that help her locate him?
