by Gimpel, Ann
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “They would have raped you. We’re not overly fond of witches.”
She furled her brows. “You said we, which means you’re one of them. Why did you help me?” She paused, considering her next words. “Or did you have a more private audience in mind?”
He shrugged, but didn’t say anything.
“While we’re at it—” She forged ahead. “What exactly are you?”
“Don’t you know?”
Irritation practically choked her. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Hmph. No, suppose not.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“And I’m not going to.”
Melis straightened in the high-pommeled saddle. “I know you’re trained in Dark Arts.”
“Do you now?” Grabbing the horse’s reins, he stood so she had to look at him. “I am going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t. All magic is the same. The origins of the dark versus white debate came from the Church.”
“But they don’t like us any better than you,” she protested.
A wry grin twisted his handsome features. “Of course they don’t. But this way, they’ve maneuvered things so we fight one another. It’s really quite a brilliant tactic, particularly if we manage to annihilate each other.” He yanked on the reins; the horse started walking again.
Melis thought about what he’d said. “If that’s true,” she began, “why would your friends have raped me?”
“Not all of them agree with me. In fact, most of them don’t. No more talk. We look odd enough as it is. Keep your head down and stuff your hair under the coat collar. With luck, you’ll pass for a drunken young man, not some maiden I hauled off into the countryside to ravish.”
It took a healthy dollop of magic to keep from falling off the horse. The sun was well above the horizon by the time they turned in through tall ornamental wrought iron gates set into gray stone walls. Gerald latched the gate behind them. The unmistakable tang of magic brewing pinged against her. What kind of spell had he conjured?
“Invisibility and forgetfulness,” he said, answering her thoughts. “If anyone saw us come through these gates, they’d not be able to recall what either of us even looked like.” He reached up, helped her to the ground, and slapped the horse on its rump. It took off up the lane, no doubt heading for the barn.
With his arms still around her, Gerald turned her to face him. “You must tell me what you were running from.”
In fits and starts, she told him about her medical practice and the angry husband who’d discovered she’d aborted his seed. It didn’t take many words to describe the mob and the river.
“Good Christ, woman, you’re lucky you’re still alive. You must have a name. What is it?” He propelled her up the lane after the horse. They topped a rise; an opulent manor house came into view.
Melis stifled a gasp. She took in turrets and towers made of the same gray stone as the wall surrounded by lush gardens. “This is yours?” she squeaked. “But it must take fifty servants to maintain.”
“Or one lord, adept at twisting magic to his desires.” Gerald favored her with a wry smile. “Of course, I do keep a servant or two—appearances and all that. Please tell me your name.”
“Melis.”
“Thank you.” He grinned at her. “Trust has to start somewhere. Come.” He sprang ahead, taking the brick steps two at a time, and pulled the carved oak door open with a flourish.
“Poppa?” A child’s high, sweet voice rang out. “Is that you?”
“Of course, sweeting. And I’ve brought a surprise.”
Melis mounted the steps. They were tall and she had to stop on each one before tackling the next. A child. He has a child...Does that mean there’s a wife, too? Melis was oddly disappointed. She chided herself for foolishness. No one with means like this would ever be interested in her. She stepped across the lintel. Polished oak floors graced with Oriental carpets spread in every direction. Bookshelves and large oil paintings lined every wall. A coat of arms hung over an enormous fireplace at the end of the great room. It depicted a blood red dragon, wings spread, flying in front of a white tower.Footsteps clattered on risers. A young girl—maybe ten years old or so—came into view clutching another man’s hand. She had Gerald’s bright blue eyes and coppery hair tied back with pink ribbons. The child wore a patterned velvet skirt, copper-toed boots, and a pink sweater. Melis did a double take. She was certain the man holding the child’s hand was Gerald—except he was standing off to her right. The man next to the child was wearing a light blue linen morning coat set off with an emerald cravat over a cream-colored shirt. Her breath escaped in a whoosh once she understood he had to be a twin brother.
“And who is this bedraggled piece of garbage?” the newcomer sneered, coming near Melis, but not too close. Almost as if she carried the plague and was contagious. His eyes narrowed. “Witch. I thought I smelled something rank. Phew.” He pulled a linen handkerchief from a pocket and covered his nose.
“Uncle Piotr,” the child’s voice scolded. “You’re being very rude. We don’t know why Father brought her here.”
Piotr’s sharp gaze settled on Gerald. “There was someone in the woods last night. You lied to us.” He spoke quietly, but his tone had a deadly edge. “The penalty for—”
“Don’t be an even bigger ass than you already are,” Gerald snapped, positioning his body between his brother and Melis. He opened his arms for the child and she obligingly raced into them. “You’d speak of such things in front of your niece?”
Because her legs wouldn’t hold her upright any longer, Melis dropped into the closest chair and pulled Gerald’s coat tightly about her. Her eyes moved from one man to the other. Part of her wanted to leave, except she was so weak that even sitting was a chore. Besides, she couldn’t go very far with her magic so depleted.
The girl hopped down and skipped over to where Melis sat. She curtseyed. “Father says you’ve been hurt.”
That’s odd. I didn’t hear him say anything of the kind to her. Child must have magic, too. “That’s true. He was kind enough to offer to help.”
The child beamed at her. “My name is Antoinette. I get lonely sometimes. It will be nice to have company. If you stay, that is.”
Gerald scooped his daughter up, kissed her on the cheek, and set her back down. “Off with you now. Your governess probably has food and lessons set out.”
“But I don’t like her.” Antoinette made a face.
“That does not matter.” Gerald’s voice was stern. “Doing what is difficult is good practice for life.”
The light went out of the child’s face. “Yes, Poppa.” With shoulders ramrod straight, she marched from the room.
“Now about this interloper—” Piotr snapped his fingers in Melis’s direction. A mild shock pummeled her; she threw up her wards. The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, I get it,” he sneered. “Looking for a replacement for Antoinette’s mother, are you? A more malleable one this time.”
Gerald’s jaw set in a hard line. The muscle she’d noticed last night twitched under his eye. “Leave her alone,” he growled. “What are you even doing here?”
“Simple enough, dear brother. I know when you’re prevaricating. I suspected it last night. When I got here and found you’d not yet returned, I was certain you were up to something.”
“Fine. So now you know and you can leave.”
Gerald’s hands fisted—so did Piotr’s. Magic sizzled between them. The air had a burnt smell; the fine hairs on the back of Melis’s neck prickled.
She’d had enough. Melis pushed heavily to her feet and edged toward the door. “Sorry for any problems,” she said. “I’ll be leaving now.”
“The hell you will.” Gerald leaped between her and the door effectively barring her way.
“You heard the slut,” Piotr said. “Good riddance. Unless she’d like to have a little fun with the both of us before she leaves.” By her side in an instant, he tugged at the coat. �
�Want to show us what’s under there, sweetheart?”
A sharp snapping noise filled the air. Gerald had slapped his brother hard enough to crack his nose from the looks of the blood flowing down his face. Melis jumped back. She funneled magic to her wards, but her reactions were sluggish and her magic weak.
“You’d alienate me over this…trash?” Piotr said incredulously, a hand clapped to his face.
“Get out. Now.” Gerald grabbed his brother’s arm and shoved him toward the door. “If I find out you’ve said a word about what you saw here, I will make you wish you’d never been born.”
“Uh, look, I really ought to go,” Melis said. “If not right this minute, then once I’ve had a few hours’ rest. That’s your brother. I don’t want to be in the middle of a family squabble—or the cause of one.” She thought of her non-existent family: mother, father, and two sisters dead in the smallpox epidemic two years before. Then she thought about Brenden, a childhood friend and the one love of her life. She’d nursed him round the clock for days, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d died in the same epidemic. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Piotr pushed past and shoved her with a fisted hand, his lips pursed in a flat line. Spots of color rode high on both cheeks. Melis swayed.
Gerald caught her arm to steady her. “Did he hurt you?”
Melis shook her head. “No.”
He walked briskly to the front door Piotr had left standing open and kicked it shut. Melis felt the spell he set to keep his brother out. Gerald turned toward her. “This is not about you,” he said through clenched teeth. “There has never been any love lost between the two of us.” He rang a delicate silver bell sitting on a side table. Moments later a uniformed maid appeared. She had long gray braids, a comfortably round figure, and a kind face with soft brown eyes. “Master?”
“Britta, please show Miss Melis to the India Room. Draw her a bath and see if my wife’s clothing will fit her. Oh, yes. And call her a healer.”
“I am a healer,” Melis said with as much dignity as she could muster. “Remember? But I could use comfrey and hyssop. And access to your kitchens.”
“Done.” Gerald inclined his head and strode out of the room.
Melis hadn’t seen anyone but Britta for several hours. Bathed, dressed and fed, she was feeling almost human again. The house rose around her, large and silent. Because she saw no reason to keep to the India Room—aptly named for its exotic Eastern décor—Melis let herself out into a thickly carpeted corridor. She was on the third floor. This particular hallway housed a collection of medieval suits of armor, all emblazoned with a dragon in full flight just like the coat of arms downstairs.
Her one other foray out of her room to the kitchens for herbs to decoct had taken her past a lavishly appointed library. It was as good an objective as any. Perhaps she could learn something about the Brunner family.
Deep plum skirts brushed against her legs as she walked. Melis fingered the silken fabric. She’d never worn anything nearly so fine. Britta had brought her a pale lavender shirtwaist, the skirt, and polished leather slippers along with a black shawl so soft it had to be cashmere. Some of the society ladies who’d availed themselves of her abortion services had worn woolen garments made of the same silky soft fibers. After clucking over Melis’s still-sodden rags, the maid had taken them somewhere. Melis asked if they could be dried and returned to her, but Britta had rolled her eyes.
She was coming down the last flight of stairs before the ground floor when she heard, “Miss Melis, Miss Melis,” in Antoinette’s flutey voice, accompanied by the patter of feet.
“I’m so glad you decided to stay.” The child caught up. Her flushed face and a sprinkling of even brighter color high on each cheek suggested she’d been running.
“Oh, I can’t do that.” Melis smiled. “I never planned to stay beyond when I was well enough to return home—or, well, somewhere.” The child looked so crestfallen, Melis quickly added, “But I can come back and visit you if you’d like and if your father would allow it.”
“It’s better if you stay—” Antoinette began, her forehead crinkling with concern.
“Yes, indeed it is.” Gerald’s unmistakable baritone sounded from the hall spur leading to the kitchens. He’d changed into a casual pair of tan riding breeches and a darker brown shirt that did nothing to disguise his heavily muscled chest and lean torso. His hair was loose, falling about his shoulders.
It was all Melis could do not to gape. She’d never seen such a beautiful man before. Maybe because of her own pain, she hadn’t noticed the elegant planes of his face. High cheekbones yielded to a strong jaw. Arched brows raised in twin question marks. Humor sparked from his eyes.
“Come walk with me. The gardens are lovely.” He inclined his head ever so slightly and held out an arm for her.
She forced herself not to take it. Melis shook her head. “I really should plan on leaving. If not this afternoon, then tomorrow at the latest.”
“Why?” Antoinette inserted herself between her father and Melis. “You just got here.”
“If you go back, the same mob will just try to kill you again.” Gerald dropped his arm and cocked his head to one side looking at her.
“I know. I’ll have to go into hiding,” Melis murmured, thinking about the logistics. “Guess I couldn’t return to my work. It’s the first place they’d look.” She blew out a breath. “That’s the main reason I want to go back. The women count on me. I’m the only one who…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t talk about what she did in front of the child. She also couldn’t return to Vienna. What was the point if she spent all her time in some underground grotto? I’d have to start over somewhere new, maybe in another country…
“Are you done with today’s lessons?” Gerald asked his daughter. His voice jolted Melis out of a descent into self-pity.
Antoinette favored her father with a roguish grin. “Not quite. Missus Henning sent me to bring back a book from the library.”
“Then you’d best do what you were told.”
Antoinette scampered off. “Come.” Gerald held out the same arm. “I won’t bite. I promise. Tony will return by the back staircase. It’s closer to her rooms. The only reason she came this way was because she was hoping to see you.”
“Tony must be your nickname for Antoinette.”
Gerald nodded.
“How long has your wife been gone?” Melis winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt it out quite like that.”
“What makes you think she’s gone?” Blue eyes twinkled at her.
Melis thumped an index finger into his chest. “Because I’m wearing her clothes. You wouldn’t have instructed the help to give them to me if she were still here. And—” she drew back, pausing for effect “—remember I am a witch. I can sense who lives here.”
He nodded, gaze never leaving her. “I hadn’t forgotten. My offer’s still open. Feel like a stroll through the gardens?”
“All right. Fresh air would be wonderful.”
Melis followed the brick-inlaid walkway he pointed out, guessing he wanted privacy before speaking. He walked so close behind her she could feel the heat of him sitting like a living thing between them. It was hard not to let her body drop back against his. They settled at the end of a rose arbor beneath a flowering tree. He dropped his gaze as if engaged in some sort of internal struggle. Melis nodded reassuringly and kept silent. She knew how to encourage the reluctant to talk.
“Janika’s been gone for three years,” he began. The line of his jaw tightened; his brows drew together. He laid a hand on the small table between their chairs then put it back in his lap where it twined with the other one until his knuckles whitened.
His blue gaze sought and held hers. “She’s not exactly dead. She didn’t have any magic—not a jot. Unfortunately, because of me she developed such a fascination with the Dark Arts that she encouraged an affair with a particularly skilled vampire. Once bitten, she ran away with him.”
“And le
ft her child?” Melis was aghast. How could a woman do such a thing? “Forgive me.” She bit her lip. “This is really none of my affair.”
“I’m making it your affair.” Gerald’s voice was harsh. “Janika wanted to take Tony with her. She planned to turn her into one of the undead. I gathered the Society and we stood against Janika and her new love. We prevailed—barely. There are wards around Antoinette—strong ones. And her governess is powerful enough to foil any attempts against my child.”
“Does Antoinette know her mother is still alive?”
Gerald shook his head. “I thought it best—what I mean to say is it would have been too confusing to try to explain it to her. Tony wasn’t quite seven at the time.”
“Are you ever going to tell her?”
“I suppose I’ll have to someday. She’ll need to be on the lookout for Janika once she gets too old to have one of us with her all the time.”
“Oh.” Words seemed inadequate, so Melis didn’t search for any more of them. When Gerald didn’t say anything else, she finally asked, “Why did you bring me here?”
“I need a wife and Tony needs a mother.”
Melis fell back against her chair cushions sucking air like a landed fish. “B-but…” she stammered, “I don’t see how…surely there are women from your own class—”
Gerald cut her off. “I need someone who understands magic. Someone strong enough in her own power she won’t run off with a vampire or a lycan. Someone who can help protect my child and teach her women’s magic.” He grimaced. “Sorry. That didn’t come out quite right.” Gerald got out of his chair, came round, and knelt in front of her. “I’m not certain what drew me to you last night. I had a vision my life mate would be in the forest waiting for me. When I volunteered to leave the Society’s ritual to check for spies, it wasn’t totally altruistic.”
He laid a hand on her knee. “I threw my magic wide open. It led me straight to you.”
Melis felt the skin stretch along the sides of her face as her eyes widened. She’d spun a small truth spell and it pinged back at her, clean and pure. “I’m not sure what to say.” Her leg tingled under his touch.
