The Matchmaker's Mark

by Black, Regan

  He'd been debating the idea of continuing in service to this Matchmaker, wondering if assisting her might help him learn Camille's fate. After this episode, that plan was not an option. She needed different protection. Protection far beyond his skills.

  Dare looked at her, searching for some way to explain. "You don't believe me. Not about the risk."

  She shook her head. "Hard to argue what happened here isn't significant. You seem worried about my ability to speak with ghosts, but what makes it so different than any of the other magic of the Campbell women? Surely my aunt was a force of her own."

  "No truer words, as they say, but you are different."

  "I don't feel different, Darian."

  A gasp and a thunk of a loose brick on the path cut his reply short.

  Between them, Guinness leaned forward, ears perked and tail wagging.

  "Wait here." Dare nudged her back against the low fence that surrounded the family plot of the ghost she'd helped. "Stay," he said to the dog. "Do not move," he grumbled at the Matchmaker, hoping she'd obey as he moved silently into the shadows. Bouncing his senses off the trees and plants, he circled around to cut off the escape of whoever had been eavesdropping. Horrible possibilities rattled around in his head, twisting his gut again. Only the strength of the old growth and the vitality of the new growth in the churchyard kept him upright and mobile.

  Chapter Five

  My dearest Amy,

  How is your love life, dear? You haven't mentioned Stephan in months. I assume he completed his term and returned to Germany. I do hope you weren't heartbroken. I don't mean to pry, workplace romance is on my mind. A member of our team was so enamored with a member of the client's team...well, let's just say I'm now hiring. If you know someone with experience in mediation and arbitration, do share my contact information.

  Love,

  Auntie Camille

  Lily's head pounded, the past and present warring for her attention. Seeing no way to avoid the confrontation, she stopped moving and waited for her pursuer – none other than the legendary Darian of the Elite Guard – to catch her. Just like old times, she thought. In all those childhood games of tag and hide and seek, the little halfling always got caught by those who were better with their magic.

  She'd heard stories about him from her brothers. Cade held him in high esteem, mostly for heroics in the field. No one she knew had seen him since he'd devoted his life to the Matchmaker.

  She braced herself, but still the contact was rough and strong. His hands gripped her arms and a bolt of awareness shot through her and kept sizzling. Like lightning that couldn't escape her body.

  "I'm not running. I won't run." At least her voice sounded calm. "Let go."

  He cooperated a little, hauling her by one arm toward the only available light near the cemetery's gate.

  She trembled, wishing she could shake off this prickling energy of attraction. Wishing he would just go. She tried a charm, envisioning the cooling effect of rich black soil, but without a flower to focus, it failed. "I wasn't doing anything wrong. Just walking by."

  "Eavesdropping," he accused.

  "Public place," she shot back.

  "Who is with you?" His face was inscrutable in the shadows, but the disapproval was clear in his touch, in the way his magic reached out to scan the cemetery.

  "I'm alone." She tried not to envy his ease and control with his power. Living on the human side of things was supposed to shelter her from this much humiliation. She tried not to wince as his magic skimmed over her, learning exactly what she was. "You could've asked politely."

  "You're a halfling." He frowned down at her. "You aren't strong enough to threaten her." He hauled her through the churchyard gate.

  Lily snorted. Apparently Elite Guards were also specialists of the understatement. As if a half-elf florist would be a threat to anyone. She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his sunflowers and security protocols, not caring a whit for his reputation or legendary lineage, but he shook her and her mouth snapped closed.

  "When she approaches you will not touch her. You will not make eye contact and you will not speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?"

  Her voice didn't cooperate, likely his doing, so she settled for a brief nod.

  As the woman approached, Lily wished for better light. This shadowy black and gray world made it hard to see. And as her morphing birthmark went crazy, she wanted a good look at the 'freak-eyed manipulator'. She didn't have a lot of magic but she had brains and a big, romantic heart. Her heart wanted the woman to be kind, maternal, and willing to give her answers about the pesky mark on her wrist. Her brain said the truth would be somewhere in the middle.

  But it was pure shock when she saw the greyhound. "Well, hello!" Kneeling, she accepted his kisses while the guard groaned. Looking up at the woman holding the leash, her brother's bitter accusations raced through her mind. "Amy?" She stepped forward.

  "Do not touch her," Dare warned, turning to the Matchmaker. "Do you know her?"

  "Guinness introduced us." Amy embraced Lily with the greyhound sandwiched happily between them.

  He swore. "You marked the florist too?"

  "I didn't mark her, Dare."

  Lily backed away from the embrace trembling in her own personal earthquake of awareness. Amy knew about her mark, but wasn't responsible for it? Questions – old and new – raced through her mind. Here was the being who could unravel the mystery of her birthmark and maybe shed some light on her prospects. "I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you at the shop."

  "There wasn't anything to recognize then. Are you cold, Lily?"

  "No, Matchmaker," she replied, avoiding the other woman's eyes as instructed.

  "Oh, please. Drop the formalities. We're friends through Maeve and Guinness. And you can look at me. I'm not some Medusa-class bitch."

  Between them Dare groaned. "Matchmaker, please."

  "Enough with the pomp and circumstance," she said. "Did you come looking for me, Lily?"

  "Not specifically you as in Amy." Lily cleared her throat, shaking off the nerves. She took a half step away from Dare's glowering presence and lavished affection on Guinness. "I have thought of looking for you. When I was little. And again, just recently. But –"

  "Why are you here tonight?" His cold tone stopped her rambling.

  His snotty arrogance was so like her own brothers. "It was a long day and a strange night. I, ah, went for a walk and heard the voices in here."

  "Bull." Dare turned to Amy. "There's more she's not saying."

  Lily thanked the shadows for hiding her blush. She wasn't about to tell them she'd gone for a panicked run after a Mama Rita burrito and followed their magic trail here.

  "Ignore him," Amy suggested. "Why didn't you just come in?"

  "I thought it was a ghost tour at first. When I realized it wasn't, I worried it was vandals," she improvised. She wasn't about to admit too much hope and too little information held her captive to the scene with the churchyard's ghosts.

  "She's lying."

  Lily glared at the annoying guard despite the dark.

  "You saw the interlude with the ghost." Amy and Guinness took a seat on the ground. "Thoughts?"

  "You were speaking with the Lady of this churchyard." Lily followed Amy's signal and sat beside her. "A tragic tale, but she's the most witnessed ghost on the tours."

  "Yeah, yeah, love equals tragedy and loss," Darian snapped. "We're not here for the tourism."

  "Just your mom's birthday?" Lily challenged.

  "Actually, I am a tourist," Amy said. "Though I haven't been on an official ghost tour yet."

  Lily rubbed her arm. It still tingled where he'd held her. She pressed a hand over her mark and wished she'd just gone home to wait for Cade. "The Lady who haunts this place…did you help her?"

  Amy nodded. "I think so. She's fretted over her husband and been in limbo all this time."

  "So she's finally with him?"

  Amy nodded. "Two spirits, one hear
t. That's how the author put it in the ghost guide book I read, but seeing her, I know it was true. They had the real thing."

  Just what Lily wanted. Real love. Someone who'd do anything, risk anything, for the true devotion of the heart. The werewolf's face flashed in her mind. Quickly she weeded that particularly determined creature from her possible future.

  "Was helping her like making a match?" Lily heard herself ask.

  Amy laughed. "I wouldn't know. I haven't matched anyone yet."

  "Except an unsuspecting werewolf," the guard muttered from the shadows.

  "What?" Lily tried to swallow the spurt of panic. That thing from the Mama Rita's kitchen couldn't really be after her. Both sides of her family would disown her for sure if she wound up mated to a werewolf. Already on the fringes of polite elf society for all the time she spent with humans, not even her father could protect her from the stain of such an unequal match.

  It occurred to her that Cade's timing, arriving just ahead of the werewolf combined with his temperamental reaction to her mark might indicate her father's attempt to interfere and save her from disaster. She made a mental note to get the truth out of Cade when she got home.

  She smoothed a hand over the greyhound's sleek coat, taking comfort. "Am I meant for the marked werewolf?"

  "You've seen him?" Darian broke free of the shadows with a sneering intensity that only confirmed her fears of how her own family would react. He looked at Amy. "You sent him after her?"

  "I didn't 'send' him after anybody," Amy snapped. Guinness quietly positioned himself between them. "You said he was in jail."

  Lily glanced from the Matchmaker to the dog to the bodyguard, unsure how to read the undercurrents. "Hang on. I don't know he was after me for sure. My mark's been acting up for a couple of days. Tonight he just showed up, marked and snarling."

  "Those furry bastards are always snarling. We must get you out of here, Matchmaker."

  "Amy."

  "Fine. By any name, you must leave town."

  "I've already said no."

  Lily stared, fascinated by the exchange. Stories about the Matchmaker painted her in a mysterious, often ugly light. The elders of her house only spoke of protocols and tithes, rather than personality and preferences. Rumor said the Matchmaker demanded respect, knew great wisdom, and aged prematurely from the burden of her role.

  Amy didn't look burdened or aged and she didn't seem to care for the elf guard's desire for protocol.

  The disparity made Lily brave. Probably just a fool's courage brought on by hot salsa, cold beer, and adrenalin, but she knew better than to waste an opportunity. "Before you go, could you please tell me why I was marked at birth?" She pushed her sleeve high and moved her arm into the weak glow from the street lamp. "Why would you do this?"

  Darian muttered an inventive curse as Amy leaned closer. She didn't touch the mark, though Lily could see she wanted to.

  "I don't recognize anything about this. Dare?"

  "Because you need – "

  "I know, I know," Amy cut him off. "But I wonder…"

  Lily felt like an aphid on a rose, under such close and dispassionate scrutiny. This wasn't Maeve's friend Amy, this was the rumor-causing Matchmaker. She wondered if Amy realized it.

  "Listen to me," he said, stepping closer still. "If she's found us anyone can."

  Lily bristled. "I beg your pardon." No, her magic wasn't that strong and it was hardly unusual to be sneered at by a full-blooded elf, but she'd hit her limit of insults for the night. "If you meant to hide the trail, you failed miserably."

  "Trail?"

  A thin trickle of pity went through Lily. He sounded agonized by the news.

  "Nothing bad has happened," Amy pointed out.

  "We're clearly operating with different definitions."

  Amy's hands went to her hips. "Are you sensing any immediate danger?"

  Watching them, Lily was reminded of many a conflict with her brothers. She wanted to laugh, but suddenly the air went cold and the Matchmaker closed her eyes. The ghosts were back and their silence blocked out all but the sound of her own heartbeat.

  Dare reached for Amy, but Lily stopped him. "Don't interrupt her."

  He scowled and tugged against her, but she had plenty of experience fighting dirty. She grabbed his ear and pushed her knee into the back of his. He went down with a thud, but it left Amy free to do her thing.

  Sure as there was sunlight and rain, there was magic in Charleston she didn't see or understand as a mere half-breed, but talking to a group of ghosts didn't seem like something you just cut short. "You should know better."

  "Let me up," Dare growled. "It isn't safe here."

  "Guinness isn't nervous."

  "He's a dog."

  "He's a smart dog." She dug her knee deeper into the back of his, and tried to ignore the muscled shoulder under her palm. "They aren't hurting her," she whispered in his ear. "Lighten up already."

  She couldn't believe she had Darian Knoll pinned to the cobblestone path in the Unitarian Churchyard. Too bad he wouldn't let her take a picture, not that anyone but her brothers would understand the significance. And they'd say things about chivalry and how she'd only gotten the best of the famed Elite Guard because he didn't want to hurt her. Brothers!

  "Hey! If you want the ear so bad, I'll cut it off for you."

  "What? Ewww. Sorry." She let go of his ear, but lightly pinched a pressure point in his neck.

  "Where the hell did you learn that trick?"

  "Brothers." The many humbling lessons had forced her to be quick and crafty. At the moment, she was fighting a losing battle with her foolish romantic notions as the scent of his skin had her feeling soft and dewy all over. "What do you think they're talking about?" She hoped the question would distract her as much as him.

  "I don't know. That's what makes it dangerous. I don't know what they want from her. She hasn't been trained –"

  She stopped listening as her mark flared up and the weird sizzle under her skin diverted her attention. It was worse than having an itchy nose when her hands were busy crafting the perfect bow. Except, here her hands were full of a sexy, handsome elf with a bigger than life reputation and she was itching to hold him in a whole different way.

  "Did you really travel by – "

  "No." He bit out. "Whatever you've heard, the answer is no."

  She couldn't pursue her curiosity as the air rippled and warmed and Guinness led Amy back to them. "Let's get out of here," she said, taking in their awkward position.

  Lily let him up, nervously falling into step between the Matchmaker and her guard as they all left the churchyard.

  "We'll walk you home," Amy announced, at the street, holding up a hand to halt Dare's automatic protest. Turning to Lily she said, "You left your people and the protection of your house. Why?"

  Lily gaped. How would the ghosts know to tell her that? "Well, yes and no. I live here, closer to those who accept me as I am."

  "As they think you are."

  "As I am," Lily insisted, Having magic was considered an elvish birthright, but without control, there was no community acceptance or trust. Understanding a society didn't make being an outcast easier.

  "Lily, you need both sides of your family. You are important to both family trees."

  She shrugged. What else could she say? She'd learned to soothe her magic nature with the small charms and the beauty of the flowers she worked with. The weekly visits from her brothers were enough to keep her content, more often irritated, with elves in general.

  Or so she'd thought until tonight.

  "I don't believe a matchmaker put this mark on you." Amy took Lily's hand and pushed up her sleeve. "But it is there for a good reason and valuable purpose. Keep careful watch, Lily, and you'll find what you seek."

  "The ghosts told you that?"

  Amy shook her head.

  "This is as far as we go. We need to leave," Darian insisted, stepping between them and blocking Lily's view of Amy's face. "
You need to leave."

  "Fine." She wiggled her fingers in a silly, girlish wave. "But if I get mauled by a lovesick werewolf, it's on you."

  ~*~

  The clever halfling still haunted Dare hours later. Finally, back at Maeve's house, Amy was safely tucked into her room and he'd charmed the doors and windows so he'd know if anyone tried to enter. He'd tried to reason with her, to get her out of town tonight, but the new Matchmaker refused to consider any kind of common sense until she had her day on the beach.

  He swore again just thinking about it.

  Amy was probably sound asleep, dreaming grand dreams of peace, love, and an idyllic high tide while he was fighting off panic over a rogue werewolf combing the city for a half-elf mate.

  "Lovesick werewolf." The mental image made him chuckle.

  Yes, Lily's parting words haunted him, forced him to consider how she might be protected. He knew better than anyone that if she was fated for the werewolf, he couldn't stop the match. Still, the other details of the evening were a sweet torture he'd gladly relive all night long. Her foolish bravery amid bizarre circumstance amused him, but her hands, oh God, her hands.

  It had been too damn long since a female had touched him. He smiled, conceding that the element of surprise had made her simple move more effective. She'd wanted him in the dirt, but he'd felt that hum of attraction in the way her palm had splayed over his shoulder. Even now, he rubbed his shoulder as if he could keep the sweet spot warm.

  Had he really offered to cut off his ear? He dropped his head to the cool glass of the window. She had been pulling the damn thing off his head at the time, but surely he could've come up with something more polite. Or sensitive. Or encouraging.

  He used to be charming. He'd certainly had enough training in diplomacy while traipsing around the globe and through the various realms with Camille. Had he thought of any appropriate words, he might now be looking forward to the moment when those strong, graceful hands would hold him with intent to seduce rather than subdue.

  Thinking of Camille doused his humor. She needed him to find her as much as he needed to do it. Not just to rectify his failure, but to save a woman who had been a true friend.