Magic In The Storm
Title Page
Prologue
About the Author
Morgan is trapped and powerless.
The seventh child of the seventh child has always been a girl. Until Morgan Vallentyn was born. Because he’s male he can’t access the magical powers that should have been his . In order to attain his destiny, he first has to escape his home and find the source of his power – in the most unexpected of places.
Adriana would give up everything for her freedom.
Born to paint the natural world with unprecedented passion and vision, Adriana Hayden is bound by the laws of 19th century English society to her scheming guardian. But after meeting the handsome and mysterious Morgan, her world begins to open to enchanted possibilities she could never have imagined.
The only way to fulfill their destinies is for each to unlock the powers of the other – through the magic in the storm.
By
Meredith Bond
Copyright, January, 2012, Merry Banerji. All rights reserved.
No part of the Smashwords edition of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means — graphic, electronic or mechanical — without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. If you have obtained a copy of this from someone else, you are strongly encouraged to purchase a copy for yourself.
Published by Anessa Books, www.anessabooks.com
Acknowledgments
As always to my husband for his unfailing love and support. And to the memory of Kate Duffy who said that this would definitely be my breakout book, but there was no way she was going to buy it— always honest and yet oddly supportive.
Prologue
June 21, 1794
The wind whipped through Tatiana’s hair, prying it free from her forehead where it had been plastered with sweat. Heat swirled around them threatening to burst into flames. Vallentyn jumped as a bolt of lightning shot into the ground just feet from where he stood coddling that infant in his arms.
“Tatiana, stop this! Stop it right now. You cannot kill our son.”
“Our son?” she repeated, fury burning through her. “And what of my daughter?” she shouted over the gale of hot wind that wove around them. “What of the prophecy? What...” her voice faltered.
She was tired. Too tired. Although the birth had been easier than many of the others, she was getting old. Only her fury at this injustice kept her awake now.
How could this have happened? Her child, her beloved, her daughter. Seventh child of the seventh child in the seventh generation—a boy!
Tatiana shoved down the pain that threatened to overwhelm her and instead burst forth with another bolt of anger, coming even closer to Vallentyn this time.
“I don’t know, Tatiana. Truly, I don’t know. But you cannot kill him!” Her husband stood his ground and pleaded with her even as the sweat poured down his forehead.
In a very brief moment of weakness, Tatiana almost felt for him. But then she caught sight of the abomination in his arms and the hot wind picked up once more.
“I can and I will,” she shouted. “He was not meant to be. I was to have a girl. She was to be the most powerful Vallen in generations. As powerful as Morgan Le Fey.” Tatiana could barely keep the tears from her voice. “My Morgan. She was to be...”
“I know, Tatiana,” Vallentyn’s voice filled with soothing magic. “But he is still our seventh child. Perhaps he will be powerful. Perhaps the prophecy will still hold...”
“Perhaps? Perhaps nothing! Perhaps he will burn in hell!” The temperature around them rose even hotter.
“Perhaps we all will, but you cannot kill him. Swear to me that you will not.” Vallentyn’s pale blue eyes looked deeply into her own and she could feel herself crack and cool. How could he do this to her? He was not nearly so powerful as she, and yet... “I swear.” The words burned through her. They scorched the air and hung there dripping sweat and then were blown away on his cooling breeze.
The child peered at her from within the protective cocoon of his father’s arms, his large dark eyes framed with black lashes so like her own. He reached out a small fisted hand toward her, but Tatiana turned away. She hated him as she had never hated before.
One
May, 1815
Adriana Hayden didn’t even have to turn around. The quiet click of the door closing and the sigh of the sofa were all that she needed to hear to know that her dearest friend and companion, Henrietta, had come into the room.
She finished dabbing the black paint onto her canvas before stepping back and deciding that she had probably put too much. Well, she didn’t care. It was perfect and it reflected her mood so precisely Adriana imagined she wouldn’t even need to say a word to Henrietta.
She would paint the whole thing black if it wouldn’t ruin what was turning out to be a rather nice depiction of a stormy sea. The water thundered, crashing with violence onto the rocks at the base of a sheer cliff. Menacing clouds hung overhead within moments of letting loose a torrent of rain.
“Oh dear,” her companion said quietly, over the roar of the sea in Adriana’s mind.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment to stop them from stinging and then swallowed down the anger that had risen to the top of her throat again. “They wouldn’t even let me see him,” she said, without preamble.
“Who wouldn’t?” Henrietta asked.
Adriana turned around into the quiet of the room. Henrietta was sitting, as always, with her back perfectly straight and her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked ever so slightly under the worn, comfortable sofa. Her brown hair was pulled up so tightly Adriana wondered that it didn’t hurt, but her hazel eyes spoke volumes of sympathy, for which Adriana was grateful. Adriana resisted the urge to run up to her dear friend and throw her arms around her.
Instead, she lifted her chin and replied, “The clerk at Sir William’s establishment.”
“So you didn’t even get to see Sir William? You didn’t show him your work?”
Adriana shook her head and turned back to her painting. Carelessly, she dabbed more black paint on where it wasn’t needed, darkening the sky even further.
“But that’s not right!” Henrietta said, full of indignation for Adriana. “What reason did he give?”
Adriana couldn’t even bear to turn around to face Henrietta again; the hurt was still too painful. She bit her lip to keep herself from either screaming in rage or crying like a thwarted child. She swallowed hard, again. “The clerk told me that he was certain that my watercolors were very pretty, but Sir William Agnew did not deal in a young lady’s dabbling. He only sold the work of true artists.” She paused at Henrietta’s gasp, but then continued. “He suggested that I give my work to some handsome young gentleman in the hope that he will marry me.”
“No, he didn’t!”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why, the nerve! The gall! The temerity of such... such...”
“A man,” Adriana finished for her.
“An imbecile is what I was going to say.”
“Perhaps they are one and the same,” Adriana said, allowing her mouth to quirk up in a little smile.
Henrietta just harrumphed.
Adriana turned around and attempted to put a real smile onto her face. How was it that Henrietta always made her feel better? No matter what had upset her, Henrietta always slipped herself right up under Adriana’s hurt and pried it away.
“It’s all right, Henrietta. I’ll just try someone else. I don’t have to sell my paintings through Sir William. I’m certain there are plenty of other art dealers who will take a look at my work.”
“But Sir William is the best,” her friend argued.
“Yes, but another dealer will be able to sell my work just as well. He may not get the prices Sir William could command, but at least we’ll get the money we need.”
“Oh, Adriana, it’s such a shame to have to sell your beautiful work...”
“But necessary. Absolutely necessary,” she said with all of the conviction and certainty she felt, and that was substantial.
“You wouldn’t have to sell so many or worry so much about price if you just left me...”
“I will not! How could you even suggest that I leave you here to deal with Lord Devaux yourself?” She took the few steps that separated them and knelt down on the floor at Henrietta’s feet. “We will wait until I have enough money for both of us to survive. I will never leave you.”
Henrietta squeezed Adriana’s shoulder gratefully. “But...”
There was a knock at the door. Before Adriana could respond, Lord Devaux himself walked into the room.
Adriana stood up. “Cousin!”
It was as if the rainclouds from her painting had just entered the room. Suddenly it felt cold and dark, despite the sun that still shone through the tall windows.
Next to her, Henrietta popped up from the sofa. “I... I’ll... Excuse me,” she slipped past Lord Devaux as quickly and unobtrusively as she could.
Lord Devaux didn’t even acknowledge Henrietta’s fast–retreating back. He just allowed his eyes to rove slowly over the small, bright room, taking in all of her paintings piled two, three, sometimes even four canvases deep along the walls.
Adriana’s arms slowly wrapped themselves around her middle as she felt, in the pit of her stomach, the disgust that covered her cousin’s face. His eyes slowly came to rest on her and his lip finally raised in a sneer.
“What a waste of money and time,” he drawled.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment. “What is it that you want, my lord?” To her own amazement, her voice came out calm and even.
“I want to be rid of all this...” he waved his arm around to indicate all of her hard work, “...this garbage. For once and for all, Adriana, I am finally going to get this trash out of my house.”
Adriana found herself having to work hard to keep breathing, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He couldn’t! He couldn’t get rid of her paintings. They were her life. They were the only thing that she truly cared about, and her only way out from under his thumb. “You promised me I could keep my work and my studio if I acted as hostess at your political dinner parties...”
“...And kept my house. Yes, I know. But you won’t be doing that for much longer.” Lord Devaux sighed and walked around the studio slowly, the look of disgust never far from his pinched lips.
“I had hoped to get more years of service out of you when I agreed to take you in.” He turned and looked at her, his beady blue eyes glittering with malice. “No one else would, you know. No one else in the family was willing to take Hayden’s daughter. He was... odd, what with his experiments and strange notions. But then, so was my cousin, your mother. I suppose that’s why they got along so well.
“And you were such a scrawny little thing—you were what, five when they perished?”
Adriana gritted her teeth. “Six.” She took a deep breath to dispel the anger that was growing inside of her. “You know I’ve always been grateful for your... charity,” she said. She had thought to say ‘kindness’, but there was nothing kind in the way Lord Devaux treated her. There never had been.
“Yes, naturally.” He made his way back slowly toward the door. “I just hope Henrietta will be as useful as you’ve been,” he said. “I’ll need someone to arrange my parties for me and to be my housekeeper. Although she was never very good at it before you took over, perhaps she has learned something from watching you do it for these past five years.”
“Why would Henrietta...”
“My cousin has turned out to be an excellent nanny for you, but she is worthless when it comes to dealing with adults,” Lord Devaux interrupted her. “We all have our talents, I suppose.” He then turned and looked at her with something that could be construed as grudging respect. “You have a natural talent—for housekeeping at least. If not for this.” He waved his stubby fingers vaguely around the room.
“Your talents have brought you a husband, Adriana. Er, your talents as hostess and housekeeper, that is.”
Adriana’s stomach lurched. “A husband? I don’t want...”
“If you think I care for a moment what you want...” her guardian began. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Adriana knew he didn’t care one whit for her or for what she wanted. She took a deep breath, letting the familiar smell of her paints and turpentine soothe her.
“You cannot force me to marry!” she finally said, trying to keep the triumphant tone from her voice.
“Your father may have stipulated that you had the right to choose your own husband in his will, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t, er, help you decide.” A little smile flickered on his lips. “Either you marry the man I have chosen for you, or this, all of this,” he indicated everything in the room with a sweep of his eyes once more, “goes. I will never allow you to draw again.”
Spots began to dance in front of Adriana’s eyes and the tightness in her stomach made its way up to her throat. “You can’t do that,” she whispered.
A smile slowly grew on Lord Devaux’s face as he looked around the room. “Oh, yes, I can.”
<><><>
“And this is the northwest field.” Jonathan, the sixth Viscount Vallentyn held his horse steady, proudly looking over a large field filled with tall, green leafy plants.
For the life of her, Adriana couldn’t have told the difference between the northwest field and the southwest field, they all looked the same. Idly, she wondered if it was possible to actually die of boredom. If it was, her life was definitely in danger.
“Here we have another crop of barley. Last year it was wheat and next year it will lay fallow in preparation for another...”
Adriana let Lord Vallentyn’s voice fade away as she looked out over the rich, green and gold field.
She couldn’t decide whether she liked Lord Vallentyn better nervous and nearly silent as he had been when she had first met him the day before, or more relaxed and talkative as he was today.
Yesterday, every time he opened his mouth to say anything his mother had cut him off or immediately contradicted him. Today, without the terrifyingly formidable Lady Tatiana Vallentyn next to him, he was clearly much more at ease, freely describing all of the workings of his estate—in painstaking detail. Adriana nearly groaned in frustration.
No, she had to do this, she reminded herself unhappily. And just to be good, she occasionally truly did listen to Lord Vallentyn’s patter, so that she could make an appropriate comment, or ask a relevant question. After over thirty minutes of this, however, her patience was at an end.
This was such a waste of time. There was so much else that she needed to learn about Lord Vallentyn—not because she wanted to, necessarily, but because she had to. She had to find a good argument as to why her guardian should not force her to marry this man.
She was certain that if she could just find one thing that would convince Lord Devaux that her marriage to Lord Vallentyn would not be in his best interests, he would call off the whole thing. But what? What was it about Lord Vallentyn that her guardian would not like? Surely, there was something.
“My lord, yesterday you mentioned briefly that you do not actually like visiting London,” Adriana said, finally getting desperate enough to set aside good manners and take the plunge into changing the subject.
Lord Vallentyn stared at her with his mouth gaping open for a moment, completely flummoxed by her interruption. A lock of his dark brown hair blew into his eyes. With a careless hand, he brushed it back. “Oh, er, did I? Didn’t mean to. Let’s continue on to the Northeast field, shall we?” Without waiting for her, he spurred his horse forward.
Adria
na would not be put off so easily. “What are your views on the new enclosure laws, my lord?” Perhaps if he held opposing political views to Lord Devaux, then her guardian wouldn’t be able to sponsor him in Parliament and, in fact, wouldn’t want him there at all.
Lord Vallentyn paused, but only for a moment, before completely ignoring her question and going on with a detailed description of his plan for slowly moving more of his crops over to wheat. They had arrived at the next field, and Lord Vallentyn pulled his horse up so that Adriana could admire it while he went on with his monologue. As soon as they stopped, a large raven swooped down and landed on the ground next to them.
“Shoo!” Lord Vallentyn waved his arm at the bird. “Don’t understand why we are suddenly overrun with these creatures,” he said, as the bird flew off.
With a frown, Adriana watched the bird as it circled above them, and then turned her attention back to Lord Vallentyn. There had to be something he and her guardian would disagree on. “What about the corn laws, my lord? Surely that will impact your plans for what to plant in the future?”
“I leave that up to those who have more knowledge than I,” he answered shortly, and then kicked his horse into motion once more. “I am sorry to hurry you, Miss Hayden, but I don’t like the look of those clouds,” he called back to her.
Adriana glanced up and had to agree that they did look menacing, but clearly not enough to deter either of them.
She and Lord Vallentyn were coming to the end of the fields, and she still hadn’t received any information she could actually use to get herself out of this marriage. Frustration began to simmer inside her.
She had to find out something or else this whole excursion would have just been a waste of time. She didn’t know when she would have another chance to be alone with Lord Vallentyn, and to speak with him candidly. Somehow, she was certain that he wanted to marry her as little as she wanted to marry him. If only he would admit it!
Magic In The Storm Page 1
