Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1)

by Charmaine Pauls

  “If he wants to come with us, we’ll take him.”

  She couldn’t accuse him of not being accommodating. “That’s very generous of you.” Only of being ignorant if he thought Erwan would leave his life here where his friends, boats, and memories were to live in a city.

  “Your family is mine.”

  The thought was noble, but didn’t he understand there wasn’t a future for them together? They grew up in the same village, but they were from different worlds now. They were on different sides, and those sides didn’t live in harmony.

  “You’re quiet,” Joss said, his voice tight.

  There was no point in fighting this battle. They’d never agree. Anyway, what was the point? He wasn’t giving her a choice. “You said I may not even see Erwan before we go.”

  “We’ll come back for him.”

  “He won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “You really don’t know where he went?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me. He could be anywhere.”

  Joss’s expression was pensive. “If he finds out we got married, he’s sure to crawl out of the hole he’s hiding in.”

  Just like Lupien would come for her. Her chest tightened. “What if he thinks it’s a trap?”

  “He’ll come for you.”

  “He didn’t before.”

  “Because that was a trap, and from what I remember, your grandfather is no fool. He told you to run. Now it’s different. Now you’re back.” Darkly, he added, “Of your free will, or so it would seem. As my wife.”

  She took a small step back. “Is that why you married me?”

  “No.” His words were harsh. “I don’t need him any longer.” His voice turned deeper, softer. “Stop questioning my motives, Cle. You’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

  The nuance of the words didn’t escape her. Only, she wasn’t the one, not as in love and soulmates. For now she was a means to an end, and later, when Joss’s obsession had worn off, she’d be discarded. Or maybe dead. At whose hand remained to be seen.

  Closing his fingers around her wrist, he pulled her back to him. “You never told me what happened after you’d jumped from the yacht.”

  Snow yelped at the door. The other dogs howled outside.

  “It’s a long story,” she said, trying to shrug off his hold.

  “We have time.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “How did you manage?”

  “Does it matter?”

  His jaw set in a hard line. “Yes.”

  “Harping on the past doesn’t accomplish anything.”

  “Humor me.”

  He wasn’t going to let it go. She didn’t want to talk about her escape, but the quicker she told him what he wanted to hear, the quicker she could go see the other animals.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “When Erwan asked me to go into hiding, he’d already buried a box on Île aux Moines with a false passport and money. He must’ve always known the day would come that my mother’s past would catch up with us, and that danger would follow.”

  He waited quietly for her to continue.

  “When the yacht passed near a clearing in the reef, I jumped and swam to the island. I’ve been diving for oysters there with Erwan, so I knew where it was safe to jump. The box was buried where Erwan said it would be.”

  Releasing her wrist, he crossed his arms. “Go on, and don’t leave anything out.”

  “I was going to board a trawler, but it wouldn’t pass for another two days, so I hitched a ride with a passing boat from the island to Lamor where I bought a change of clothes. I blended into the hordes of holidaymakers on the quay and didn’t attract attention.

  “The first night, I slept in a boat that was anchored on the beach. I used public restrooms to clean up in the morning. For the rest of the day, I hid in the woods, watching the boats to see which ones were not being used. The trick was to get to the mainland to catch the trawler without being spotted. The second night, I stole one of the boats that wouldn’t be missed and took it out into the open sea. I spent the night there.”

  A scowl drew his eyebrows together. “You navigated a boat in the dark and spent the night on the open sea?”

  “You forget what a good skipper I am.”

  He clenched and flexed his fingers, repeating the act twice before saying, “Carry on.”

  “At first light, I anchored in a hidden bay on the mainland, and followed an unused path through the forest to the harbor. The trawler was already there. The captain is a friend of Erwan. These fishermen share a sacred bond. I knew he’d help. He agreed to take me to South Africa.”

  The days that had followed had been hard, but she hadn’t expected differently. “After going ashore in Hout Bay, I got a ride to Johannesburg with a truck driver. I managed to find a job at a bar and an affordable room.” She shrugged. “The rest you know.”

  “Did you suffer?”

  “I’m fine, am I not?”

  His gaze drilled into hers. “Did you go hungry?”

  Why wouldn’t he let it go? “What’s the point of this line of questioning?”

  “Answer me.”

  She sighed. “Only at first, until I got a job.”

  “How many days did you go without food?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t count.”

  “That many, huh?”

  Her failure to take care of herself in the beginning was private, not something she wanted him to know. He already had enough weapons to use against her. “I hardly remember it now.”

  “Were you cold?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “When?”

  She blew out another breath. “Joss.”

  “Answer me, Cle. I want to know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I do.”

  “You’re impossible.” It was like reasoning with a hardheaded donkey. “When I went ashore after jumping from the yacht, it was almost dark. I was wet, so naturally I was cold. When I arrived in South Africa, it was winter. I was cold then, but I managed to buy a warm jacket before leaving with the truck driver.”

  Turmoil reflected in his eyes as he processed the information.

  “Why are you asking these questions?” She searched his face. “Do you think what happened to me was your fault? It wasn’t. I told you, I was going to run regardless.”

  “Did anyone hurt you?”

  “The choice to jump was mine. I knew the risks. I made the decision and accepted the consequences.”

  He worked his jaw sideways. “You put yourself in danger.”

  “More danger than what I was in with you?”

  He gripped her chin. “I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  “Just kill me?”

  “No.”

  “Put yourself in my shoes. If you were me, would you have believed that?”

  He grabbed her to him so fast she stumbled. Steadying her with his hands on her waist, he said, “You should’ve believed it, because it’s the only truth you can trust.”

  “Trust?” she bit out. “You’re asking me to trust you after—”

  He brought his mouth down to hers, silencing her with a violent kiss. She gasped in shock, for a moment too taken by surprise to fight back. She managed a protesting sound when he pressed her up against the wall. Framing her face between his palms, he kissed her like the savage man he was. There was no gentleness or practiced skill in his manner. The kiss was raw and uninhibited, just like Joss at his core. It was nothing like the kisses she’d memorized, the kisses she’s spied on from behind trees. For her, he didn’t hold back. For her, he was just Joss, and it scared her more than Joss the dangerous bounty hunter, because that Joss was like an incinerating fire. Too big for life. He’d turn everything in his path to ashes.

  Even as her mind fought for reason, her body surrendered. Her lips parted for his tongue. She let him spread her legs and hitch up her dress to step between her thighs. Dipping his knees, he grinded his erection against her core. She
turned wet, her body giving away her secrets. When a moan escaped her lips, he kissed her harder and slipped a knee between her legs, urging her to ride his thigh. It was tempting, but she’d already lost too many battles. The thought made her go slack in his hold.

  He tore his lips from hers, staring down at her with a fire blazing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “We didn’t come here for this.”

  “No.” The word carried regret. He dragged a thumb over her bottom lip. “We didn’t.”

  There was too much regret between them. She averted her gaze as she wiggled down her dress.

  “You’d better look around,” he said, stepping away from her. “We can’t stay long.”

  Coldness washed over her when he turned and walked outside. She stared at the door through which he’d vanished. Breathing came both easier and harder, easier because she couldn’t think when he stood too close, and harder because of the truth he refused to acknowledge. The only truth she could trust wasn’t that he wouldn’t kill her. It was that she was doomed to run for the rest of her life.

  She’d find a way soon, as soon as she’d seen Erwan. She needed to make sure for herself he was fine.

  Pushing away from the wall, she took a deep breath to steady herself before going through the house. Without Erwan, there wasn’t a reason to linger. There was nothing she wanted to take. After making sure that everything was in order, she went to the back yard to check on the rabbits, guinea pigs, hedgehogs, and cats. How she missed them. The animals were healthy and looked happy, but one was missing.

  “Where’s Tripod?” she asked Snow, stroking his back.

  As if on cue, a bark sounded from the beach. The three-legged mongrel came running with flapping ears.

  Relieved, she held out her arms. “Come here, you.”

  Tripod jumped, yelping and licking her face.

  “They’re happy to see you,” Joss said.

  She looked up. He was standing by the doghouse, his shoulder braced against the side, watching her with an intent look on his face.

  She hugged Tripod and stroked his wiry hair. “They’re well looked after.”

  “I asked the vet for weekly updates.” He pointed inside the doghouse. “Had webcams installed. That way I could watch them from afar and make sure they were all right.”

  She blinked. “You kept your promise.”

  He stiffened. “Of course.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t promise.”

  “You know what I meant when I said that.” He straightened. “We have to go.”

  Already? She cradled Tripod against her chest. “Can we come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” he said, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. “I promise.”

  Chapter 33

  The bedroom at the castle was tidy, all traces of the flowers and candles gone. The fireplaces had been swept, and new fires were already burning.

  “When did all of this happen?” Clelia asked.

  “The same company that takes care of your cottage is managing the castle.”

  “A cleaning company that provides clothes?” She flicked through the new dresses in the armoire.

  “It’s more like a house managing service.” Taking her hand, he brushed his thumb over her wedding band. “You may want to take over the arrangements, seeing that you’re the lady of the house now.”

  The words jostled her. She remembered what Erwan had said about a woman healing a man like a doctor couldn’t, but Joss hadn’t brought her here for his healing. He also hadn’t brought her here to play house.

  “You look like it would be a punishment,” he said, gripping her chin.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “Don’t lie to me witch,” he said in a low voice. “That frown on your face isn’t about contemplating the hardships of interior decorating.”

  She pulled away. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  He considered her for a moment, and then thankfully let it go. “Would you like to see the rest of the castle before dinner?” Without waiting for her answer, he took her hand. “It has an interesting history.”

  She allowed him to take her through the stronghold, explaining the history and the architecture, as well as the periodic destructions and renovations. The top floor contained attic rooms that had been occupied by servants in the past. The third floor had several bedrooms with en-suite sitting and reading rooms. Two big halls dominated the first floor, one of which they occupied. Several smaller rooms served as offices and game rooms. The ground floor had a big reception room and dining room that opened onto the terrace overlooking the lake.

  The kitchen, scullery, and storerooms were located in the left wing while the right held a large library. The library was the only room in the castle without raw stone walls. What wasn’t covered with bookshelves, was covered with wooden panels. The shelves were empty. Joss explained the private collection of priceless books was stored in a dust-free and temperature-controlled vault in Vannes. They concluded their visit with the stables that stood separately at the back of the courtyard, after which Joss led her back to the dining room.

  Like most of the rooms, the dining hall was empty except for a table that had been pushed against the window. It was beautifully set with a white tablecloth and silver and crystal ware.

  After Joss had seated her, a mature woman with short hair streaked with gray entered. Clelia glanced at Joss. She didn’t know they weren’t alone in the castle.

  “This is Izabell, my house manager,” Joss said to Clelia. “Izabell, meet my wife.”

  “At last,” Izabell said with a broad smile. “I’ve heard so much about you, Madame de Arradon.”

  “Please, call me Clelia. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  “I’m happy if you are.” She beamed at Joss. “It’s been a while since I’ve had such a challenging project.”

  Joss took a seat opposite Clelia while Izabell lit the candle on the table.

  “Having the electricity reconnected isn’t as straightforward as connecting the water, I’m afraid,” Joss said. “It will take several months to redo the wiring.”

  “It’s not an easy job cooking on a fire.” Izabell went around the room, lighting the candles in the holders on the walls. “I could’ve brought a paraffin stove, but I hate cooking on those. It’s not the kind of catering I like to serve to my best client.”

  Joss grimaced. “I apologize for the fire too.”

  “My extortionate fee makes up for that.” Izabell winked and dusted her hands. “Shall I serve your starters?”

  Joss looked at Clelia and waited.

  “Oh,” she said. “Um, yes.”

  Izabell gave a nod. “I thought you may be hungry. I’ll be right back.”

  When Izabell was gone, he said, “I gave Izabell carte blanche on the dinner menu. From now on, you can take over.”

  Taking over sounded too much like playing wife. “Why? It’s not like we’re staying.”

  The set of his shoulders tensed. “I’m trying to be agreeable, Cle. Of course, if it’s a chore, you can leave it up to Izabell.”

  Before she could think of a response, Izabell returned with an ice bucket and a bottle of champagne. “Shall I open it?”

  “I’ve got it,” Joss said, reaching for the bottle. He waited until Izabell was out of earshot. “Have you ever started a voluntary fire?”

  The pop of the cork sounded loud in the large, mostly empty hall.

  She tensed. “Why are you asking?”

  “Trying to help.”

  “How?”

  “We need to figure out if your art is maturing.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you let me handle it.” He poured champagne into the flutes and handed her one. “Have you started a voluntary fire or not?”

  Pursing her lips, she shook her head.

  “After the fires had started in Larmor, did you feel different?” he asked.

  She reflected f
or a while. “I had the dream, and I started sleepwalking. I felt different when you took me to the yacht.”

  “Different how?”

  “Stronger, and surer of what was going to happen.”

  Taking her hand, he rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. “Is it getting stronger still?”

  The affectionate action made her pause. This pull and push between them was exhausting, not to mention confusing. Pulling away her hand, she said, “I’m not sure.”

  A look of frustration settled over his features, but he didn’t say more as Izabell reentered with a platter of oysters on a bed of crushed ice.

  “I hope you like them,” she said to Clelia. “Joss wasn’t much help there. For someone who knows you down to the size of your shoes and underwear, he doesn’t know much about your eating preferences.”

  Clelia shot Joss a quick look. He instructed Izabell to buy her underwear? Her cheeks heated. “I love oysters. Thank you.”

  “She grew up here, Iza,” Joss said with a glint in his eyes.

  Izabell shrugged. “So did I, and I hate oysters.” She poured them each a glass of water and gave Clelia a cheerful smile. “Eat up. You’re such a skinny little thing.”

  When they were alone again, Joss prepared an oyster with shallot vinegar and brought it to Clelia’s lips.

  “You don’t have to always feed me,” she said.

  His tone was dry. “I’m well aware.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “Taking care of you. Now stop the questions and do as you’re told.”

  Blowing out a huff, she opened her mouth and let him feed her.

  “Was that so difficult?” he asked.

  She glared at him. “I don’t see how this helps our situation.”

  “It helps if you do what I tell you and listen.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, grinding her teeth.

  “If you’re ready to listen,” he said, “I can tell you what I’ve found out about your art.”

  “Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”

  He leaned closer. “You really have to learn to trust me.”