Betrothed

by Lola White

  “You know I’ve spent most of the past ten years in India, all over the place. The Choudhury Family is under the gun. There’re a lot of witch-hunts going on.”

  “As bad as Africa? Two of the patriarchal Families have lost many people to the hunts.” Silviu’s face grew dark as realization set in. “You were involved in the situation in India?”

  “The Choudhurys are one of our allies, Silver. Someone had to go, and Grandmother is too old to get in the middle of a mob, these days.”

  “I don’t like that.” Possessive outrage lit his eyes.

  “It’s my job!” Georgie lifted her chin. “And, if you actually do manage to get control of the covens, you’ll be doing work like that, too. At least one of us will have experience at it.”

  Once again, Georgie found herself watching a struggle on his face. His thoughts were perfectly clear for her to read. He wanted her safe, yet he fully understood the weapon she was. A tool at his disposal. His jaw clenched and bulged as he worked through his emotions. Then he relaxed, pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and opened the door.

  Waving her out, he said. “Time to meet my grandfather. He’s not going to like you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Silviu’s words proved true. Georgeanne sat at Alexandru’s side and tried her best to charm the suspicious old man, but he wasn’t having it. When the Lovasz Father bluntly stated that English was not to be spoken in his home, Georgeanne happily switched over to his native language, explaining how she’d been given intensive lessons because of her betrothal to his grandson.

  Alexandru took the opportunity to rip her apart in Romanian. He commented on the length of her hair, which was too short for a woman. He sneered at her outfit—a lightweight blouse and dark pants that made her look like a man—then scolded her for her audacity in looking him in the eye, as if she were equal to a man. Finally he dismissed her, turning from her as if she weren’t there.

  Vasile and Silviu were little help, at the opposite end of the long table. Gritting her teeth, Georgeanne let Adam become the focus of Alexandru’s ire and turned to chat with Ileana.

  “Are you excited?”

  With a sullen glance at her grandfather, Ileana leaned closer. “I’ve never met Eliasz, so I don’t know what to expect. Nervous is a better word.”

  Georgeanne nodded, remembering her own first meeting with Silviu. “It’ll be fine. I’ve met Eliasz before, while traveling with my grandmother. He’s a good man, though he’s much too patriarchal for my peace of mind.”

  Ileana grinned. “Is he worse than my grandfather?”

  “No one is worse than your grandfather.”

  Ileana’s face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself. “I’m sure you’ve heard how I’ve already been betrothed twice, and—”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Georgie studied the other woman’s eyes, not surprised to see the pain buried deep in their beautiful depths. The woman was so like her brother that they could be twins, with Costel standing as a fraternal triplet. The Lovasz Family bred true. But Ileana was still softer than the men, and in an awkward position.

  Georgie had dealt with several branches of patriarchal Families and, while all their women had less value than the men, the rumor mill said Ileana was blatantly disregarded. Far more so than any other woman of similar rank. As the daughter of the primary branch, she should have at least been trapped in a gilded cage.

  Georgie stiffened her spine and vowed that would never happen to her. She would never allow any man to devalue her. “Eliasz is a handsome man, Iley, with short blond hair and the body of a marble statue. And trust me, he knows what he looks like. He’s smart, fairly honest and has his own brand of integrity. I like him.”

  Ileana questioned Georgie thoroughly, but her attention and suspicion were captured by her cousin, Christiana. Though they used to be as close as sisters, the two women had grown apart during Chris’ first marriage. Madeleine’s eldest heir had become secretive, more competitive, and much preferred to keep to herself.

  But now the other woman’s dark head was bent toward Costel’s, both of them conversing in voices too low to overhear. Georgie wondered just what the two had managed to find a common interest in. Silviu caught her eye and subtly nodded toward the pair, lifting his eyebrows. His unexpectedly given message was clear.

  Georgie would have to keep her eye on them.

  Chapter Four

  Eliasz

  Eliasz bit his lip to keep from wrenching the door off the limo as it slid to a stop in front of the Levy estate. His fists clenched, his palms burned with the heat of the magic he held in check. Impatience didn’t cover all that he felt, and need was too mild.

  But Ileana Lovasz was necessary to him.

  “Thank God she didn’t marry that Castillo fool.” Fredrik Levy, head of the household, narrowed his blue eyes as he squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Don’t screw this up, Eliasz. This is our chance to regain real power in this Family, as well as beyond. Third branch may be fine for some, but your son could have more if you play your cards right. You could have more.”

  “I know.”

  “The Levys are spread across the world, Eliasz, and you will stand no chance in this new regime if you don’t curry favor with Silviu Lovasz. Unless you want to marry him, which won’t go over well with Madeleine Davenold, his sister is key to gaining his support.”

  Indignation blazed through him. “I know, Father. I already know.”

  “When Silviu sits at the head of the Council, Daniel will have no better option than you to represent our Family.”

  “Hopefully, she’s still as pretty as she used to be.” Eliasz shook his father’s hand off his shoulder and went to welcome the woman he would take as his bride.

  Nerves strung tight, it was an effort to paste a pleasant smile on his face, but he managed not to look too severe as people began to pour out of the limo. Vasile was first, rising from the depths smoothly, blinking against the morning sun. Eliasz shook his hand and welcomed him in French, unsure whether or not the Lovaszes spoke Polish.

  Costel was next, pinch-faced and hard-eyed. When the old recluse Alexandru emerged, Eliasz was given a new perspective on Costel’s attitude, and quickly directed the old man toward Fredrik, waiting with a gloriously fake smile.

  Then the Davenolds tumbled out, much to Eliasz’s surprise. Leave it to the Lovaszes to spring unexpected houseguests on unsuspecting hosts. Taking it all smoothly, he greeted Adam, a man whose reputation preceded him, though Eliasz had never met him before, exchanged a mild hello with Christiana, whom he’d met previously, and waited for Georgeanne. He knew Georgie had to be there if Christiana and her twin had come.

  Her presence only added to the pressure welling inside him.

  Putting on his most sparkling grin, he leaned down to take Georgie’s hand, but was blocked by Silviu’s body. He’d only met the man once, at Ileana’s first betrothal party, but he’d know the other man’s aura of confidence anywhere. It had left a lasting impression on Eliasz. There was something about Silviu that would put any man on guard, a dim instinct warning of hidden power.

  Eliasz gamely shook his hand and watched as the man helped Georgie from the limo. The tension between them was palpable, a confusing swirl of mixed emotions and arrogance rising from them both like heatwaves off asphalt. The air between them positively crackled.

  “Welcome, Silviu, Georgeanne.” Eliasz accepted the brief hug the Davenold heir pressed on him with genuine delight. He was fond of the little spitfire. So long as it wasn’t against him, he loved how she stood toe to toe with the patriarchal men, never giving an inch. She was always entertaining.

  He just wished she was less intelligent, less insightful, than he knew her to be.

  “Eliasz,” she said, “it’s been a while.”

  “Three years, at least.”

  Her eyebrow arched and he knew that she’d seen too much in his face. “You didn’t know we were coming, did you?”

  “I was not informed,
no, but I’m still happy to welcome you to my home.” He turned to Silviu and found an impartial mask riding the man’s features. There was nothing to be gleaned from the steady, silver gaze.

  The Lovasz man calmly pulled Georgeanne back to his side. “We thank you for your hospitality, Eliasz, and apologize for my grandfather’s oversight.”

  “It’s my pleasure to be your host, of course. Please, make yourselves at home.” Eliasz’s attention was captured by the undercurrents between the couple as they stepped to the side, leaving him unprepared to meet his bride.

  He barely remembered to take her hand and help her out, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Caught off guard by her brother and Georgeanne, Eliasz was thrown for a loop at the feel of a soft palm, vibrating with strength and power, against his own. A clean, floral scent drifted past his nostrils, a bolt of lust punched him in the groin. Primitive instincts chomped down on his spine, locking his entire focus on the woman that would be his.

  More beautiful than he’d expected, tall and exquisitely curved, with a sweet smile stretching her full lips and eyes that held more than a hint of intriguing rebellion, she was more than he remembered, more than he’d hoped for. Just more.

  She was his ideal come to life. Her long black hair gleamed with deep wine highlights under the sun, her eyes sparkled like polished metal. He immediately took note of her height, which matched well with his, and wicked fantasies of taking her against a wall invaded his mind. Images of her shapely leg anchored to his hip as he slid into her depths teased his imagination.

  He couldn’t stop his voice from dropping into a deep purr. “Welcome, Ileana, to my home. And yours, I hope.”

  He liked her reaction. Her eyes widened and her pupils expanded before locking onto his, until she dropped her gaze to scan his physique. Her fingers twitched in his grip and she took a deep breath, her smile easing into that of woman who knew her sexual value. She peeked up at him through a tangle of thick, black lashes. Eliasz suddenly found it difficult to breathe past his need.

  “Thank you.”

  Her husky tone, complete with a soft accent that made him think of sultry nights lazing between the sheets, had his groin tightening painfully. “Please, come and meet my family.”

  He ushered her toward the rambling house where the others had gathered. Unable to resist, he put his palm to the small of her back, a gesture of ownership that neither Silviu nor Alexandru missed. Both men narrowed their eyes.

  “Please, make yourselves comfortable. You’ll be shown to your rooms…” Fredrik paused to direct the housekeeper to ready three more for the unexpected Davenolds, but then glanced at Silviu and Georgeanne. “Or just two extra rooms?”

  “We’ll require separate rooms, thank you,” Georgie said calmly.

  Eliasz pressed his lips to hold back his laughter. The expression that flashed across Silviu’s face was priceless—exasperation mixed with frustration and overlaid with a deep need to tread carefully around the pushy little Davenold heir. She was infamous for playing hell with a man’s ego.

  Eliasz turned to Ileana. “I will show you to your room.”

  “No.” Alexandru’s harsh word rang out in the entry hall, immediately bringing everyone to a complete halt.

  Startling and unforgiving, the old man said nothing further, obviously not caring how his command would be taken. Next to him, Ileana tensed, pulling into herself in a way that dimmed her vitality and offended Eliasz at his deepest levels. Vasile’s jaw tightened, Silviu straightened and Costel smirked. The Davenolds looked bored.

  Rage threatened Eliasz’s composure. It had been a very long time since anyone had denied him in the house that his future son would inherit. Fredrik threw him a quick, pleading look and turned to Alexandru with sugared words dripping from his lips.

  “Ah, yes, we can’t have Eliasz monopolizing your granddaughter’s time while she is here. There are many who are eager to meet her, including my wife. How right you are, Father Lovasz. That is what servants are for, to do the work of servants.” He turned to the housekeeper. “Now then, Marta?”

  Fredrik waved them all off in a strange parade led by the housekeeper and a bevy of maids, followed by an army of boys carrying the luggage. Eliasz met his father’s eyes with raised eyebrows. Fredrik only pointed to his office, set just to the left of the front door.

  Eliasz waited until the door closed behind him to speak. “What the hell was that?”

  “Alexandru Lovasz is notoriously bad-mannered. We keep him happy, do you understand? We can’t afford to have him break this betrothal.”

  “You can’t break something that hasn’t been made yet, Father. With the way he spoke, it doesn’t seem as if he’s in agreement with this alliance.”

  Fredrik paced over to the liquor cabinet and pulled open the doors, eyeing the collection of bottles thoughtfully before making a decision. Handing a glass of vodka to his son, he said, “Doesn’t matter.”

  Eliasz knocked back the drink and waited until the burn faded from his throat. “How do you figure?”

  “Vasile let it be known that Costel favors the match. Costel is the key to the old man.”

  “Like that, is it?”

  “He’s the Family heir.”

  Eliasz snorted and poured another drink. “Much good that will do him when Silviu takes the Council. Costel will become Father of a dying Family.”

  “But, for now, Costel is the only one Alexandru trusts to wield power on behalf of their Family. I don’t know what the brothers’ relationship is, my son. Don’t assume—”

  “Rumors through the witching world have it that they hate each other,” Eliasz interrupted. “But the wind says the Lovasz children are a damned tight group, for all that.”

  Fredrik pursed his lips. “The Davenolds, too, for that matter. They may try to kill each other occasionally, but, at the end of the day, they love each other just as fiercely. They tend to put their own quarrels aside if there’s an outside enemy at hand.”

  “Then don’t get on their bad side either, Father.”

  The old man shuddered. “Good God, no. I’d have to deal with the Lovaszes and Madeleine. Our branch would never make it out of that conflict alive.”

  Eliasz lifted his glass in a salute to his father’s maneuverings. “Until I marry Ileana. Then we’ll all be back on equal footing, won’t we?”

  “Yes, my son. Very much so.”

  “Well, in that case…”

  Both men jumped and whirled as the husky, feminine voice, speaking perfect Polish, rolled into the office.

  “I really hate to be the one to break the news, but my grandfather is never going to agree to this marriage.”

  Whispers flooded Eliasz’s ears as he stared at Ileana, a slight breeze ruffling his hair. Her face gave nothing away, though her eyes had darkened to a seething gray. The wind carried tales of her sadness and frustration, but he couldn’t figure out where those emotions sprang from. His talent wasn’t reliable enough to give a complete picture, though it set him on a path that his intuition had no problem mapping.

  He jettisoned his father’s well-crafted plan in that moment, in the space between one heartbeat and the next. The wind had given him greater leverage, and honesty was the only force strong enough to allow him to exploit it.

  He held out his hand. “Ileana, please come in.”

  Her head cocked to the side, painting a lovely picture of curiosity. She was trying to figure him out, he knew. He was going to help her.

  As his father sputtered, Eliasz took her hand and pulled her toward a deep and comfortable chair. He pushed her into it before stepping back to lean against Fredrik’s desk. With intriguing boldness, Ileana leaned forward and snatched his glass of vodka from his fingers, then settled back to sip the liquor as she listened.

  He took her off guard by telling her the truth, and he knew by her expression that she was used to being discounted and working that to her advantage. “The Levy Family has a new Father, and I don’t know him well enough to fe
el secure in my place. I need to find an advantage if I’m going to progress in my Family. And you can help me.”

  “Ah. I see. You are not the generation that inherits. It would be our son that would take over the tertiary branch, but you want more for yourself.”

  “I want a solid foundation for any child we would have, Ileana. Did you know your brother is angling for the position of High Seat on the Council of Covens?”

  “Yes, I did.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I’m surprised you know.”

  “I listen to the wind. That’s a specialty of mine.”

  “Ah.” She drained her glass.

  “Madeleine Davenold has the whole thing set up. When we confronted her about the rumors I’d been hearing, she admitted it.”

  “From what I know of Madeleine, I find that very hard to believe.” Ileana jumped to her feet and crossed to the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a hefty measure of expensive whiskey. “She would never admit to anything. If her daughters didn’t look exactly like her, she’d probably deny them, too.”

  Eliasz choked on his laugh, trying to hold it back. “True, but her and my father go way back.”

  He watched her expression turn assessing as Ileana raised her eyebrow at Fredrik. “Lovers?”

  The man turned beet red, and that was answer enough. Eliasz rolled his eyes. “We’re patriarchal, the Davenolds are matriarchal and Madeleine married her Magic Match. It was a summer fling with no expectation of a future.”

  She saluted the older man with her glass. “Must have been a hell of a fling for you to still hold favor with Mother Davenold, sir.”

  “Ileana.” Eliasz took a deep breath and waited for her attention to return to him. “Your brother will take the Council, and I want a Seat on it. The Levys are a big Family, which means I have little chance of beating out one of my cousins in the primary branch for the position.”

  “But, if you marry me, they’ll figure you’ll have an advantage with my brother.”