His Wicked Charm

by Candace Camp

  “Electricity can be explained. Understood. It can be proved. But the idea that some unknown, unseen force is sending you nightmares about the Clock Room or calling me there in the middle of the night is ludicrous.” Why must he keep on with this?

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not true. As for proof, you’ve seen inexplicable powers at work. What about the link between Alex and me? How do he and I know when the other one is in trouble? He and Sabrina have the same sort of connection. Alex could picture Sabrina’s house from holding her father’s pocket watch. You saw Anna’s vision about the kidnapping. You heard her describe the place. And when we got there, you saw that it looked exactly the way she had described it.”

  Lilah crossed her arms, feeling trapped. “I don’t know! I don’t know what to think about any of those things. But I cannot believe in this whimsical...nonsense.”

  “You mean you won’t believe it.” Con shoved one hand back into his hair. “You are so bloody stubborn.”

  “So if I don’t believe what you want me to, I’m stubborn?”

  “And if you don’t want to believe in something, it’s nonsense.”

  “Why do you harp on this? Why do you have to push and push—”

  Con overrode her words. “The real question is, why do you continue to deny the existence of things you’ve witnessed? You refuse to accept it because it upsets the pleasant, orderly fantasy you have fashioned for your life. You might have to admit that Vesta could be right. Maybe her séance wasn’t a humbug.”

  “You’re wrong!” Anger surged in Lilah, shooting through her veins like wildfire. At the same time, she wanted to run away, as far and as fast as she could. “Stop! Just stop.”

  But Con pressed on, throwing his arms out wide, “If you weren’t so bloody narrow-minded, you’d admit the world isn’t as tidy as your Aunt Helena would want you to believe. The rules don’t always apply, Lilah.”

  “No!” For the second time in her life, Lilah slapped him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CON GAPED AT her in astonishment, but he could not have been more surprised than Lilah herself. Letting out a choked moan of dismay, she covered her face with her hands.

  “I’m sorry.” The words came out in little more than a whisper. She dropped her hands, but she couldn’t yet bring herself to look into his eyes. Clearing her throat, Lilah said, more firmly, “Please accept my apologies. I—I don’t know how I could have acted in such a way.”

  “That’s twice, you know.” There was an odd note in Con’s voice, not anger, really. It sounded more like...

  Lilah lifted her head. “Are you laughing?”

  “No. Never.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Tell me, am I the only person you thrash on a regular basis?”

  “I have never hit anyone else in my life,” Lilah said indignantly.

  “I’m special to you, then.” A smile teased at his lips.

  “You are the only one who’s that infuriating,” she responded, beginning to relax. “Honestly, Con, how can you laugh?”

  “I have three sisters. I’ve been hit any number of times. It happens when one is, as you said, ‘that infuriating.’”

  “I doubt they slapped you.”

  “True. But Olivia once chased me down the hall, wielding a hairbrush. She’s faster than you’d think.”

  “You must have been a terrible child.”

  “There you are. A smile.” He laid a caressing hand on her cheek.

  “I don’t know how you can be so pleasant after I hit you.”

  “Well, I’d prefer you didn’t make a habit of it. But you didn’t hit me that hard. I need to teach you how to punch properly. And I should have had my guard up. It’s embarrassing, really.” He wrapped his arms around her.

  “I truly am sorry, Con. It was rude and uncalled for.” It felt so good to stand like this, his chest warm and firm beneath her cheek, his heart steadily thumping.

  “It was rather impolite.” Con kissed the top of her head and stepped back. “I’m sorry, too. I was bullying you. And I shouldn’t have mentioned your aunt.”

  Lilah felt the loss of his embrace, but she couldn’t let him see that. “Which one? Helena or Vesta?”

  “Either. Both. I shouldn’t get angry because you don’t believe what I do.”

  “I don’t normally act that way, though I can hardly expect you to believe that.”

  “I believe you. Have you ever seen a cork shoot out of a champagne bottle?”

  “Now I’m like a cork?”

  “Tightly sealed things sometimes explode. You’re worried by your sleepwalking. Peculiar things are happening. I’m pressing you. Your ardent, elderly suitor pursued you here.”

  “Hush.” Lilah chuckled. “Sir Jasper isn’t elderly.”

  “He will be.”

  “So will you.”

  “Yes, but I’m not trying to manacle you to me for the rest of my life.”

  There was no reason his remark should hurt. She wanted to be tied to Con no more than he did to her.

  Con tucked her hand into his arm, and they strolled out of the maze. “Let’s say I’m wrong and there is no mysterious energy at work. I’ll set aside the fact that I dreamed about the place. There is still this indisputable fact—you walked in your sleep to that room. Another thing we agree on is that your grandfather’s Clock Room is unusual. Last, but not least, that room is precisely the sort of place where one might expect to find a hidden key.”

  Lilah looked up at him and smiled. “Then I suggest we go through the tower so we won’t run into Sir Jasper.”

  They cut across the grass and around the end of the house and entered the tower through a sturdy wooden door. The tower was empty save for stone steps against the wall, curving upward. They began to climb.

  Con glanced around as they went past the next floor, also empty. “There’s no door. Isn’t this the level below the gallery?”

  Lilah nodded. “The tower doesn’t open into the house anywhere except the top floor.” She waved off his question before he could ask. “I don’t know why.”

  “I’d say your ancestor was trying to hide something.”

  “Probably.”

  “What do you think it was?” he asked cheerfully. “Mad relative? Secret trysts?”

  “Maybe he just liked to read undisturbed.”

  “Well, that would be disappointing.”

  When they reached the Clock Room, Con took a long, slow look around, still amazed by how close it was to his dream. “Do you see anything different?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it in ages. Even when I lived here, I was rarely in this room. It wasn’t forbidden like the maze, but the door was kept closed, and my governess didn’t like to be in this part of the house. She said it was because I might get lost, but I think that it was more that she found this wing eerie.”

  * * *

  THEY MOVED METHODICALLY around the room, checking the wall for a safe and examining the clocks for hidden compartments. It was a time-consuming process, and by the time they had to leave to dress for tea, they had made their way through only a third of it. They hadn’t even looked in the cabinets.

  Lilah sighed, wiping the dust from her fingers. “This will take days. It’s going to be very difficult to search with Sir Jasper hanging about.”

  “I’ve been thinking about him.”

  “Jasper? Why?”

  “Don’t you think it’s suspicious that your cousin showed up at your house right now?”

  “Not really. It’s clear Aunt Helena sent him. She worried that I’ll fall prey to your lures.” She stopped abruptly, blushing. That was exactly what she had done.

  A light flared briefly in Con’s eyes, but he said only, “Maybe not. Sir Jasper would make an ideal culprit for stealing Dearborn’s keys.”

  “Sir Jasper
?” Her voice rose in incredulity. “Why?”

  “He’s male and he’s a Holcutt. He took over your father’s title.”

  “You think he wants to join the Brotherhood.” Lilah considered his words. “I don’t know. It seems little to go on.”

  “It would explain his determination to marry you.”

  Lilah lifted her brows. “I’m glad you don’t feel the need to flatter me.”

  “My dear Lilah, I am sure that your beautiful face and impeccable reputation—not to mention your compliant nature—would sweeten the pot for him. But the man is bloody persistent. He’s more or less forced a visit on you without invitation. He keeps pursuing you even in the face of your obvious disinterest. I have never seen you give him the slightest encouragement.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “It’s not normal behavior. Most men would have given up by now and gone on their way, brokenhearted.” He laid his palm on his chest, looking melancholy.

  “Oh, stop.” Lilah grimaced at him. “I have wondered why he keeps on. I thought he must simply be obtuse.”

  “That much is clear. But I think he’s also eager to be in possession of this house.”

  “I assumed his suit was spurred by his desire for Barrow House, but that doesn’t mean he wants the key, too,” Lilah pointed out.

  “He’s excessively interested in the layout of this house. Last night, while he and I were having our manly after-dinner port, Jasper was interrogating poor Ruggins about where this was and that was...and—” he paused for emphasis “—he wondered if Sir Virgil used the office downstairs.”

  “What? That is odd, even for him.”

  “Ruggins was tight-lipped of course. ‘I’m sure I couldn’t say, sir.’ Jasper said he wondered because the office appeared to be unused, and it seemed a waste.”

  “Maybe he wants to turn it into a billiards room,” Lilah said sourly.

  “And what about that inspection tour of the house yesterday? He was examining it far more closely than would be polite.”

  “He was looking at it as a future owner.”

  “Or he was hoping to find the key’s hiding place.”

  “Very well. His actions are suspicious,” Lilah agreed. “But how would he even know about the keys? About any of it?”

  “Maybe your father told him.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Lilah said doubtfully. “But my father had no liking for Jasper. And why wouldn’t he have simply given him the key if he thought Jasper should have it?”

  “Maybe Dearborn told Jasper. He seemed wedded to the idea of only male descendants qualifying for his very exclusive club. Perhaps it was another requirement that there be three of them. There were three men to begin with, then the next generation of three. Dearborn might have wanted to bring in Sir Jasper as the third man after your father passed on. Dearborn isn’t inclined to share, but he might if he thinks it’s the only way to get what he wants. But Sir Jasper decided he’d rather have it all—whatever it is—to himself. He could marry you to acquire one key and steal the others. You’re resisting, so now he is storming the ramparts.”

  “Perhaps. But I think you just don’t like him, so you made him a villain.”

  “I don’t like him,” Con agreed. “But it doesn’t mean he’s not a villain. I think he warrants keeping an eye on.”

  “I agree.” Lilah sighed. “I wish Sir Jasper would go home.”

  “Perhaps you should tell him to.”

  “I can’t. That would be rude.”

  Con lifted his eyebrows. “You’ve managed being rude well enough with me.”

  “Yes, but that’s you. You’re...”

  “Annoying?” he supplied.

  “No. Well, yes, you often are, but I didn’t mean that. I meant...” Lilah shrugged. “I don’t have to mince words with you. You aren’t one to take offense. You don’t care if something I say isn’t proper or I sound too bold.”

  “The bolder the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “That is what I mean. You aren’t shocked if I know things or dispute what you say.”

  “I’d be shocked if you didn’t dispute what I say.” Con grinned. “As for avoiding your cousin, I suggest we return after he’s gone to bed.”

  “Sneak out of my room to meet you in the middle of the night? I-it would be most improper.” If Aunt Helena knew about it, she would be horrified.

  “I know. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall, his familiar half smile on his lips.

  Lilah wanted suddenly, shockingly, to take that plump lower lip between her teeth and nibble at it. She drew in a sharp little breath and whipped around, heading to the stairs.

  “Well?” Con levered himself away from the wall. “Will you be here tonight?”

  Lilah paused on the steps. She didn’t turn around; she hated to think what Con’s sharp eyes might see on her face. “You know I will.”

  * * *

  THE EVENING DRAGGED, and Lilah retired to her room as soon as she could without causing comment. Cuddington was something of a problem; she would find it decidedly odd if Lilah didn’t change out of her evening dress. In the end, Lilah rang for the maid and went through her usual nighttime ritual.

  After she left, Lilah changed back into a comfortable sacque dress, which she could fasten herself and wrapped her hair up into a knot atop her head. It was messier than Cuddington’s creations and listed a bit to one side, but it would have to do.

  Lilah turned out her lamp and sat down to wait. Sitting here in the darkness, listening for the sounds of the others coming up to bed, she had nothing to do but think about what she was doing. It was foolish. Unnecessary. Dangerous.

  All the same things could be said for Con.

  It was a welcome reprieve from her thoughts when footsteps sounded on the stairs. She heard Aunt Vesta’s voice saying a cheery good-night and Sir Jasper’s polite response, then Con’s. Doors closed. But still, she waited to make sure that everyone was safely in bed.

  Finally she opened her door, unable to bear it any longer, and slipped down the shadowed, silent corridor. She had worn her soft bedroom slippers, and she would have gotten down the staircase without a sound if she hadn’t stepped on a tread that squeaked.

  Freezing, she waited, then continued in the same stealthy manner. It occurred to her that it was absurd to be sneaking about like a thief in her own house. The soft glow of light from the library told her that Con was already waiting for her there. The man must move like a cat; she hadn’t heard a sound.

  Con was, indeed, lolling in a chair without a jacket, waistcoat or tie, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Lilah’s eyes went involuntarily to the small V that showed at his neck, the shadowy, almost-vulnerable hollow of his throat in sharp contrast to the hard line of his collarbone. She had the most shocking urge to press her lips against it, to trace the shallow dip with her tongue.

  Con rose to meet her, picking up the small kerosene lamp from the table. Walking down the hushed corridor with Con seemed furtive, even illicit, and the atmosphere was only accentuated by the flickering shadows cast by the lamplight. Lilah knew she should be appalled by her actions, but what she felt was excitement.

  Inside the tower room, Con set the lamp on the desk and began his search there. As Con ransacked the drawers, looking for hidden compartments, Lilah started on a nearby cabinet. It was a mundane task, but the hush, the time of night, their secrecy lent it all an eerie quality.

  Lilah went through one cabinet, which contained only more compasses. She moved on to a short cabinet beside the desk, but when she tried to open the door, it stayed firmly shut. She tugged on the handle again. “Con... This one’s locked.”

  “That sounds promising.” Con fished around in the drawers of the desk. “No key in here. Damn. I should have brought my lock p
icks.”

  “Surely this can’t be the key we’re looking for.”

  “I doubt it.” Con glanced around and picked up a letter opener, then sat down on the floor to work on the lock. “If it is, it’s a severe disappointment because this lock is easy.” He opened the door.

  “Oh. It’s only books.”

  “Don’t discount it. Books can be handy hiding spaces.” Con began to pull out the volumes and set them on the floor beside him.

  Lilah joined him on the floor, picking up the top book of the stack. She went still when she saw the one below it. It was bound in dark green leather; on the cover, printed in gilt, was a circle filled with tangled branches. Three triple spirals were evenly spaced above the figure. A leather strap fastened with a metal clasp held the book closed.

  “Con...” Lilah reached down to touch the cover. “Look.”

  “Those spirals. Triskeles. What’s this in the middle that looks like branches or maybe roots?”

  “Both. Branches above and roots below. It’s the Tree of Life. That’s another thing you’ll find on artifacts around here.” Her stomach quivered, and she felt a trifle breathless.

  “You think it’s something to do with the key?” Con was watching her rather than the book. “Lilah, you sense something about this book.”

  “No. I don’t know.” She found herself curiously reluctant to open it.

  Con had no such qualms. Flipping up the little latch, he opened the book, fanning through it. “No cutout with a key inside. Just a lot of writing...by hand, it’s not printed. You think it’s your grandfather’s journal?” His voice rose with interest. “Your aunt said he was interested in the ancient religions.”

  “I don’t know.” Lilah leaned closer to him, turning to the frontispiece. The Tree of Life was printed here as well, but beneath it, cupping the circle, were three words in Latin: Fortis Voluntas Fratronis.