Jayce looked at Milford who was nearly hidden in the shadows with his eyes rolled back in his head, religiously chanting and praying as he crossed himself and all in the room. “How long has she been this way?” he asked.
No one answered.
“Darias,” he called louder. “How long has she been this way?”
Darias turned then. “I am not sure,” he answered, his gaze drifting immediately back to the girl.
Jayce sighed and raked his hand through his hair, which was now wet due to the heat in the room. He pushed it away from his face, tethering it back into a leather strip. He walked over to Milford. “Cease.”
Milford kept right on chanting.
Grabbing Milford by the shoulders, he shook him slightly. “Cease, please,” said Jayce. “I cannot take your chants any longer.”
Milford stepped back startled, his eyes refocusing. “What?” he asked. “Is she better, then?”
“No, Milford.”
“Oh.” Milford frowned. “Why did you stop me?”
Jayce frowned right back. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Oh yes, of course.” Milford rubbed his hands down the length of his tunic. “What do you need?” he asked anxiously, looking towards the bed.
“I need you to seek out Merlin.”
Milford’s eyes widened, in horror. “Oh No, I cannot do that.”
“Why?” Jayce sighed.
Milford gaped, his mouth going slack-jawed. He shook his head, leaning in. “He is a sorcerer,” he whispered fiercely.
“So?” Jayce answered. It was common knowledge after all.
“He will spell me, if I go to him. He is a Mon
…monster,” Milford stammered, shaking with fright.
“Milford, he is not a monster,” Jayce assured him. “He is a sorcerer. There is a difference.”
“Not to me.”
“Milford you must go, else your own Master may turn into a monster before your very eyes.”
“That is not true, he only just met her.” Milford said. “Surely she has not been able to work her wiles on him as of yet. I made sure of it.”
Jayce pulled at his own tunic, the fabric clinging to his muscled chest. “What are you talking about?” he asked in irritation—not with Milford, but from the heat. He was finding it hard to take a breath.
“Morrigan told me to…” Milford trailed off, looking anxiously towards the bed.
Jayce leaned in, mere inches from his face. “What did Morrigan tell you to do?” he demanded in hushed tones, trying to make sure Darias did not hear.
“I lost it you see.”
“Lost what?” Jayce narrowed his eyes at Milford. His greasy hair hung limply around his dirty face, masking his expression. Quickly he reached out, grabbed Milford by the arm, and dragged him forcefully from the room. If Darias heard what the fool was saying he hated to think what he would do. He was simply not in his right frame of mind right now. Once in the hall he released Milford. “Tell me all?” demanded Jayce.
“Tell you what?” Milford asked, twisting his hands and darting his eyes back and forth guiltily.
Jayce ran his hands over his face. “Milford you better start talking.
“About what?” he asked evasively.
Jayce sighed in irritation. “What you were just saying a moment ago.” This conversation was going nowhere fast. Jayce had an awful feeling that Milford knew so much more than he was saying.
Milford leaned around Jayce, peering back into the room. He drew his gaze back to Jayce. His eyes widened and he gulped reflexively. “Earlier, when I was on the rushes…um…you know when you saw me…”
“Yes…?”
“I wasn’t really looking for your dagger.” Milford stalled, looking everywhere but at Jayce who towered above him.
“I know.”
Milford gaped at him in shock. “How did you know?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jayce said. “What were you really doing?”
“I was looking for the um…relic… Morrigan gave me.”
“Relic?” repeated Jayce and then he took a hefty breath, letting the air fill his lungs, trying to find some patience.
“You can ask her,” Milford hedged.
“I am not asking her, I am asking you.”
Milford clamped his mouth tightly shut. He did not want to tell Jayce what Morrigan had told him, not now, not ever.
***
Morrigan raced up the stone stairs, her arms loaded with salves and bottles of a few harmless potions. Of course, it was all a ruse; she had no intention of un-spelling the stupid girl. Skidding to a halt at the top of the stairs, she sucked in a sharp breath. Jayce was cornering Milford. She knew her time was running out; she needed to do something else before that little fool spilled his guts. Damn! She knew better than to entrust anything to that little weasel. Not knowing what else to do, she dropped a few of the bottles purposely. The glass shattered on the hard stone floor, crashing loudly.
Milford jumped, startled, then cautiously peered around Jayce. Morrigan gave him a cutting glare. A bolt of fear shot straight through him. He was ready to run. He knew he was done for, especially if Morrigan knew what he was saying, it would surely be the end of his existence here on this earth. He knew what she was like when she was angry, and it wasn’t pretty. He swallowed hard, backing slowly away.
Jayce shot his hand out and grabbed Milford’s tunic, putting an end to Milford’s escape. He sighed loudly and looked towards Morrigan. Her long red hair was falling forward, covering her face as she bent down to retrieve the items she had been carrying.
“Morrigan,” he said, calling out, but she gave no indication she had heard him. “Morrigan,” he called out louder.
Finally, she lifted her amber gaze to his. “Yes?” she answered and then promptly turned back to gathering the items she dropped—stalling.
Jayce loosened his hold on Milford’s tunic and pushed him forward. “Go help her.”
“What?” He gaped. “Why me?” Milford took a deliberate step backward instead of forward. “I thought you wanted me to seek out Merlin,” he whispered.
Morrigan tensed and gulped reflexively, hearing his name. Merlin…bloody hell. “Oh nooo… tis broken to bits,” she cried out loudly. “I will have to go fetch another bottle from my reserves.” Standing quickly, her skirts made small pieces of glass skitter across the floor as she dashed away, leaving the mess.
Jayce shook his head, watching Morrigan run away. He turned to Milford who continued to inch slowly backward. Jayce reached out, grabbed hold of his tunic once more, and pulled him forward. “Fetch a maid to clean this mess up. No, wait, better yet, you clean it up.”
“What? I didn’t make it,” Milford complained, his voice shrill.
Jayce gave him a look of warning.
Milford’s eyes widened. He knew that look. “Of course my lord…not a problem,” he added before walking briskly forward. He wrinkled his face at the mess, climbed down on all fours on the floor, and began gathering the broken bits of glass, mumbling under his breath, complaining the entire time at the unfairness of it all.
Jayce sighed heavily. He wondered what they were up to, but now was neither the time nor the place. It would take too long, and time is not what he had a lot of, considering the way Darias was acting.
A Strange Discord
RAVENHURST * PRESENT DAY
RAVEN was dressed to the nines, okay the nines weren’t that accurate, probably the seven’s, but she did have to admit, even to her own critical eye, she looked pretty good. She eyed her appearance in the floor length mirror. She had chosen to wear a long black velvet skirt, her Chanel flats, and a black almost see-thru silk blouse with a lacy black camisole underneath. Lifting her pearls, she wrapped them a few times around her neck. Then she twisted her loose hair up into a messy, romantic style bun, with one of her nicer clips that had a smattering of seed pearls on the top. She only used minimal eye-makeup, dark liner and her fat lash mascara, to make her
blue eyes really pop. Leaning forward, she applied a deep red lip lacquer to her lips and blotted them quickly with a tissue. One last spritz of her Burberry perfume and she was ready to go.
Grabbing the handle of the door she pulled it open, it creaked loudly in protest. “They should really oil the damn hinges,” she muttered, shivering. Rubbing her hands over her arms she walked quickly down the shadowed hall. The suits of armor she could see earlier looked like sentinels, standing guard. An ancient sounding clock groaned, chiming eerily, spurring her to move even faster. By the time she reached the stairs she was winded, she wasn’t sure if it was from her sprint or from fear, probably a little of both. This place gave her the damn creeps. A floorboard creaked behind her, making her jump. When she turned around nothing was there but that still didn’t stop the hairs on the back of her neck from standing on end. Holding to the banister, she made her way down the stairs, the threadbare runner looked like it had seen better days. Some of the binding on the sides had come undone, with squiggly balls of yarn tangled up jutting through the banisters. The toe of her shoe caught in the runner, making her pitch forward. Arms flailing she grabbed hold of the banister to stop her headlong plunge. It creaked loudly, but held her in place. “Damn!”
“That was close…too damn close,” she muttered, trying to catch her breath. She looked down. “Shit!” The ancient carpet had a substantial tear in it now. Holding the banister with one hand, she leaned forward and tried to smooth the carpet back into to place. She made a face. It didn’t look that great but hopefully no one would notice. Taking a breath, she straightened and made her way down the rest of the stairs.
Once she made it to the bottom she wasn’t sure which way to go. She looked towards the library on her right and then to her left. There was another doorway on her left so she walked forward and peeked around the corner. Not the dining room, but a parlor of some sort. It held a settee, table…a few chairs scattered about—god-awful wallpaper covered the walls. The furniture inside was an eclectic mish mash. It was probably a receiving room of sorts—very Victorian—very busy…very ugly.
This room was definitely not one of the nicer rooms she had seen. The sound of clattering dishes drew her out of the room and down the hall, past the stairway and a large potted plant, the leafy foliage spilling over, brushing against her as she walked past.
Using the clattering dish sound as an indicator to where they were probably dinning, she kept right on walking. A light was coming from the end of the hall, spilling from around the corner and the noise was coming from that direction. Her shoes echoed on the tiles.
Once at the end of the hall, she took a bracing breath and turned the corner. Her mouth dropped open. She stepped into the room, looking at the expanse of fine white linen stretched over a table that was at least ten feet long. Large, heavily carved upholstered chairs flanked either end. They were quite regal looking, reminiscent of Rococo style furniture.
Standing off to the side she watched two small maids struggling with heavy silver domed trays, barely making it to the sideboard. The lids clattered loudly as the maids placed them on top. Just as quickly, they turned and dashed from the room.
The heavy scent of delicious food engulfed her making her stomach rumble loudly. Embarrassed, she pushed on her belly, trying to make it be quiet. The settings on the table sparkled beautifully under the light cast from the huge chandelier. Crystal prisms swung back and forth creating a kaleidoscope of color across the table and throughout the room. It took her breath away. A large alabaster fireplace was situated at one end of the room with a fire crackling and hissing. It was a dream room, one straight from a period movie or romance novel. Now all she needed was the hot men…and as if on cue, Reed strolled through a set of double French glass doors. He was wearing a severely cut, tailored black suit, with a pristine white shirt, open at the collar. His hair was windblown. A gust of fresh evening air wafted in behind him. Raven took a deep breath, trying to control her nervousness.
Reed pulled up short. His eyes widened when he spotted her. “Good evening.”
Raven was again struck by how handsome he was. She cleared her throat. “Good evening.”
“Would you care for a drink?” he asked casually, as he walked further into the room.
“Sure.” Raven noticed the look her gave her and quickly looked down at the front of her outfit, wondering why the hell he looked like he was biting back a laugh. Was her boob hanging out? She did a quick boob check. Nope, she was covered. She let out a sigh of relief.
Reed walked back towards her, amusement clearly lighting the depths of his dark gray eyes, his shoes barely making a sound on the oriental carpet. Nervously, Raven looked down again wondering what the heck was so funny. He handed the drink to her; she noticed he was careful not to touch her. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He eyed her curiously for a moment more. “Um,” he said. “You have something, right here.” He touched his face, pointing to his lip.
Raven reached up and felt her lip, pulling a piece of tissue down from them. She groaned inwardly. “Oh no,” she exclaimed. “Would you look at that… it’s a bloody tissue,” she said, using a feigned English accent, trying to use humor to divert her embarrassment.
Of course, stodgy Reed didn’t laugh though; instead, he stared at her peculiarly, making it worse. “He, ehh,” she laughed.
Reed turned away and walked back across the room. She made a face at his back realizing too late there was a mirror hanging in front of him. He could see everything.
Perfect. She rolled the tiny piece of tissue between her fingers, trying to figure out what to do with it. She didn’t have any pockets. Turning, she walked toward the French doors, the ones Reed had just come inside from. She gripped the heavy cut glass in one hand and the tissue in the other. She casually took a sip, eyeing a potted plant by the doors. It was completely dark outside now, making the room a mirror reflection in the glass. She watched Reed run his hands through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. What was his problem? She wondered absently as he leaned casually against the fireplace, his suit jacket straining across his broad shoulders. She glared at his back and without thinking let the tissue fall from her fingers. And then instantly froze. Oh crap!
Reed turned then, stopping briefly to pick something up and started walking back towards her. She realized in horror he could see her perfectly in the mirror—staring at him like a moron. She cast her eyes down, pretending like she hadn’t been gawking at him. It was no use he was beside her now; she lifted her eyes to his face.
“Here you can put the um, thing, in this.” He extended a small glass dish out to her.
Her eyes followed his to the floor. Crap. The damn tissue was on the floor, not in the plant. Raven wanted to crawl under a rock… again. She let out a heavy sigh, and bent down to pick the tissue up. “Oh my, how did that get there?” she managed lamely.
“I presume you dropped it,” Reed answered easily, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Raven swallowed uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess I did,” she mumbled completely embarrassed and then stood back up to place the bright red tissue into the dish.
Reed stared at the tissue for a moment, then, shook his head and walked away from her once again, placing the dish on a table near the doors.
A cold sweat broke out on her forehead; absently she lifted her hand to her head. She felt like she was going to pass out.
“Good evening all,” Lucian called out from the doorway.
Raven let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, she was saved from any further humiliation for the moment, that is, unless she did something else stupid, like roll around on the ground. Smiling warmly she turned toward Lucian. “Good evening.”
Lucian looked divine. He wore his long hair pulled away from his face and tied into a short ponytail. The long pieces fell down the sides of his face. He kept lifting his hand and tucking his hair behind his ears, like he was nervous. It was an endearing gesture. He wore a simple black suit jacket
paired with a basic black t-shirt and jeans. He looked like a cologne ad…so did Reed, but he made her feel stupid, so she didn’t want to admit how good he looked. Granted it was her fault for dumping trash on the floor, but still…
Now looking between the two she noticed that although Lucian had seemed confident earlier, he didn’t any longer. He seemed out of place, almost nervous. Reed on the other hand looked completely at home in the opulence of the room.
Reed poured another drink, glancing over his shoulder. “Lucian, have you forgotten how to dress properly for dinner?”
Lucian pulled at his jacket, straightening it, smoothing the wrinkles out with his hand. “No Reed, I haven’t,” he answered, chagrined, and looked around the room awkwardly. “If you must know, my shirts were in dire need of pressing, and I did not want to delay dinner, so I decided to simply go without one. I am sure Raven doesn’t mind, do you?” he asked her, lifting his brow in question.
“Of course not, you look divine,” she defended. And then added, “Err… I mean, ah nice.”
Lucian laughed loudly. “I knew I liked you.”
Reed rolled his eyes. This was going to be one hell of a long night. He couldn’t wait for it to be over. Actually, he couldn’t wait for his brother to take his ass back to wherever he had come from so his life could go back to normal.
Raven smiled warmly at Lucian, running her finger over the rim of her glass and casually walked over to him. “So, do you have any good stories to tell?” she asked.
“Pardon,” he asked, giving her an odd look.
“I mean about your um… travels?” She smiled again, trying to flirt a bit.
“Oh, I have a few of those myself,” Reed interjected before Lucian could say a word. He chuckled, warming to the subject. “I remember a time when I went abroad, my luggage was lost. I couldn’t speak the language…,” he laughed again. “It was stuck accidentally in another guest’s room…”
Raven purposely acted disinterested. “Yes…well, Lucian, what about you?”
DREAMS OF TOMORROW: A NEW ADULT TIME TRAVELING ROMANCE (Ravenhurst Series) Page 3
