Touch of Desire

by Susan Spencer Paul

  With an effort, Sarah pushed herself up, pleading, “Don’t hurt him! He didn’t know what he was doing! Please, my lord.”

  Uttering a string of oaths, Lord Graymar lowered Julius, who was weakly struggling, to Sarah’s bed and held him there.

  “The vial!” Lord Graymar shouted. “Do you have it?”

  Blindly Sarah pressed to her knees and groped about the floor. “Here it is!” Her fingers closed about the small glass object. Unsteadily she rose to her feet and held it toward him.

  Holding Julius with one hand, Lord Graymar opened the other, and the vial flew out of her grasp. Not looking away from the bed, he caught it and, with a flick of his thumb, unstopped it.

  “A few drops will take care of him.”

  “He won’t drink it,” Sarah told him. “She’s commanded him to take nothing from anyone but her, neither food nor drink.”

  “He’s not going to have a choice,” Lord Graymar said. Forcing her brother’s mouth open with one hand, Lord Graymar poured the potion in with the other, then sent the tiny vial floating safely away in the air. He set his hand over Julius’s mouth and pushed. The younger man sputtered and gagged but wasn’t able to spit the potion out. Almost at once he began to calm and within the space of a minute had fallen fast asleep.

  Sarah stood beside the bed, watching, until Lord Graymar slowly began to withdraw. Julius didn’t move.

  “He’ll sleep until morning,” His Lordship said, releasing a taut breath. “Perhaps to the afternoon.”

  “He didn’t know what he was doing,” Sarah whispered, trying not to weep. She was so happy to see the earl, and not merely because he had come to her rescue. “He wasn’t Julius.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” His Lordship said, not looking at her. She heard his voice shaking. “And when the enchantment is broken, he’ll not remember what he did to you.”

  “I’m glad,” she murmured, then covered her aching face with both hands and began to cry.

  Lord Graymar pulled her into his embrace. “Sarah,” he said softly, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. “Forgive me for leaving you so vulnerable to such an attack. I protected the dwelling from magic mortals, but I never thought she might use Julius to harm you.”

  “She just wanted the journal. I don’t think she meant for him to hurt me.”

  “Didn’t she?” He took her chin in his hand to lift her tearstained face. He kissed her cheeks and eyes, then her lips, and murmured, “Wait here.”

  She regretted the loss of his warmth and strength when he walked away. In the hallway she heard Lord Graymar instructing those frozen there to forget all that had occurred from the moment they’d awakened and to return to their beds and sleep until he told them to wake. Then he came back to Sarah.

  “Your family and the servants will sleep peacefully and safely until we’ve returned,” he said.

  “Returned?” she repeated. “Where are we going?”

  He opened his heavy cloak and folded her within.

  “To Mervaille.”

  Chapter Twenty

  He wasn’t able to make his mind work properly. Or force his body to stop trembling. Sarah clung to him, her face pressed into his chest, shaking only a little more than he was.

  God help him. He’d nearly killed Julius. It hadn’t made any difference that the younger man was suffering beneath a powerful curse or that, in his right senses, Julius would cut off both hands before harming his beloved sister. Malachi had arrived to find Sarah weeping, in terrible pain, and he’d wanted to commit murder. If Sarah hadn’t stopped him, he might well have done it.

  “No one will harm you again,” he said, moving his hands to press her closer. “Ever. I swear it before the Guardians.”

  “No, don’t,” she said in a small voice. “Don’t make such a foolish vow. I won’t let you.”

  “Sarah.” It was the only word that escaped his lips before he had to stop speaking altogether.

  “Where are we, my lord?”

  “In my bedchamber.” Lifting a hand, he set the fire in the grate alight and several candles in the room aflame.

  She tried to look about, but he stopped her.

  “Your face is badly bruised. And swollen.” The fact of it filled him with equal measures of sorrow and rage. “Your—” He stopped to draw in a steadying breath. “One of your eyes is nearly shut because of it, Sarah. Let me heal you.”

  “I thought my vision was worse than usual,” she said shakily, her attempt at humor only causing his fury to tighten.

  He laid his hands lightly on her face, stroking and murmuring, drawing the heat and swelling out through his fingertips, letting them dissolve into nothingness in the air. Then he tilted her face upward, bending to press his mouth against the side of her face that Julius had struck, moving his lips over the skin until the stinging dulled completely.

  He would have pulled back then, but her hands came up to grip the collar of his shirt and hold him still. Her mouth sought his, kissing him with the same longing that had lived in him since they’d parted from each other the night before.

  It hadn’t been his intention to seduce her with such immediacy during their first joining; in fact, quite the opposite. Malachi had envisioned a slow and thorough seduction, with food and wine and the sensual dance of the wit they so often engaged in. But she needed him now, not from physical desire or the want of pleasure but for surcease and healing.

  “My lord,” she gasped, her cold hands shaking as they pressed against his face.

  “Yes, love,” he said gently, taking her hands in his own to warm them. “I know what it is you crave. I can give you peace.”

  With a swift movement he undid the clasp of his cloak, letting it fall to the floor, then bent and picked her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed. It was an enormous piece of furniture and he rose up into the air to bring them both down into the middle of it. Settling Sarah’s head upon the pillow, he kissed her deeply, willing her to calm.

  But she was far too unsettled to let him be slow. Her slender body shook and her fingers dug into his arms.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please, my lord. I’m so cold.”

  “I’ll warm you, sweetheart.” Malachi reached down to unbutton his trousers, releasing his hardened member. Then he slid his fingers up along her thigh, lifting the skirt of her nightgown until he could touch her gently. She arched against him, her breathing heightened; her nails dug into him more fervently. Malachi kissed her. “Let me make you ready, love.”

  She shook her head. “Now,” she said insistently. “Now.”

  He did as she asked. Lifting himself over her, he placed himself at the entrance of her and pushed forward. There was a brief resistance and then, with a gasp from Sarah, he pressed deeply in.

  “Oh,” she said, her voice filled with relief. “My lord.”

  It was a joining like none he’d before known. Not simply because he loved her, but because everything within her reached out to him as no other woman had done. As he began to move, she made the sweetest sound his ears had ever heard and, shutting her eyes, relaxed at last and opened to him completely.

  “Sarah,” he murmured. “I love you.”

  She smiled and opened her eyes. The Sarah who captivated all his senses was there once again, gazing back at him. All of the fear was gone, all of the hurt.

  “It’s like flying,” she whispered, and her hands reached up to grip his shoulders. “Just as if we were flying again.”

  “Yes,” he said against her lips as the rhythm of his body grew quicker. “Let me take you flying, Sarah. Like this. Hold on to me, and I’ll take you into the heavens.”

  She dozed afterward, but only briefly. Malachi rose and finished undressing, then filled a nearby basin with water from a pitcher. Lifting Sarah’s head from the pillows, he gently undressed her, tossing her nightgown aside, then washed the blood from between her thighs and afterward slipped her beneath the warmth of the sheets and covers. After cleaning himself he joined her
there, drawing her warm, sleepy body into his arms.

  “Thank you,” she said, and he could feel her smile against his chest.

  “I don’t think there’s much to be grateful for just yet,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “That was not at all what I had planned. I’m not very pleased with myself.”

  She uttered a low laugh. “I confess I have little experience of such matters, my lord, but I thought it quite delightful. Far more than I had thought it would be.”

  “You have much to learn,” he said. “And I shall make certain that you do. Then we’ll revisit this conversation and see whether you’ve changed your mind.”

  Her hand slid up to touch his chin. “You mustn’t say such a thing. I shall always cherish what you did for me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “I suppose we’ll always be able to say that it was, at the very least, memorable.”

  “I’ll never forget it.” Her fingers stroked over his face, from his temple down his cheek, touching the stubble there. “Did all go well in Scotland?” she asked. “Were you able to make things right between the young man and his intended’s family?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he replied, pushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. “I left without so much as a word when I sensed you were in danger. I have no doubt that my cousins Niclas and Dyfed are wondering when I’ll return.”

  She suddenly sat up, gazing down at him with dismay.

  “Sweet merciful day. You left them without an explanation? Surely you must return at once, my lord. Your relatives will be lost without your guidance, and their wives want them home.”

  “Desdemona’s filled your ears with her complaints, I see,” he said. “No, don’t frown at me, love. Surely you realized I’d know about your visit to Serafina.”

  “I assumed you’d find out,” she confessed. “I had hoped to have a day or so to compose an explanation.”

  “Why?” he asked with genuine amusement, reaching to pull forward her thick braid. Untying the ribbon, he began to unravel her hair. “It’s not in your nature to desert anyone you love, and I know how bold you are to enter forbidden domains.”

  “Then you’re not angry with me, my lord? Or with Rhys for taking me? I made him do so, you know. He didn’t wish to.”

  “I won’t deny that I’m displeased,” he said, his attention given to the rapidly diminishing braid. “I knew Serafina could not harm you through magic, but I wasn’t glad when I realized you meant to so willingly place yourself in danger, or that my manservant agreed to aid you in the task. Desdemona, fortunately, had the presence of mind to go with you. I shall send her something pretty, and expensive, to render my thanks.”

  “You make it sound as if you knew the moment I went to Miss Daray’s dwelling,” she said suspiciously. “But that can’t be.”

  “Of course it can,” he said, spreading her unbound hair over her shoulder and arms, captivated by the glints of gold that shimmered in the firelight. “We are unoliaeth, Sarah. I shall always know what you are doing, whether you are at peace or not, regardless the physical distance between us.”

  She gazed at him in silence, her green eyes pensive. Malachi smiled with all the charm he possessed. He shouldn’t have mentioned the unoliaeth. It was too soon. She hadn’t felt the power of it yet, but she would, in time. It was inevitable.

  “My lord,” she began, and he could tell by her tone that she was about to say something foolish. Something about their union not being a permanent one. He expected it but wasn’t in the mood to have the conversation just now. Not tonight.

  Reaching up to cup her neck, he silenced her with a long, gentle kiss. Then he lay down once more and settled her comfortably in the crook of his arm.

  “I wish you’d call me by my Christian name,” he said. “Especially as we’ve become lovers.”

  “Have we?” she asked. “Become lovers?”

  “Yes, sweet,” he assured her. “I shall prove it to you again in a few moments, after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

  “Indeed, my lord?”

  “Indeed, Sarah. And you must call me Malachi when I do, for although a man does enjoy feeling lordly while making love to a woman, I would far rather hear my name upon your lips. You may have noticed that I’ve been calling you by yours.”

  “I did,” she remarked drily. “But I supposed that, being so great a nobleman, you might be in the habit of such things.”

  He laughed softly. “We’ve already disposed of the notion that I’m God, sweet. Perhaps we should have done with the idea that I’m the king.”

  “You’re more powerful than he is,” she said. “You’re the Dewin Mawr. I’m a mere mortal, and not even highly born.”

  Malachi sighed and ran a lazy hand caressingly down the curve of her back. “Believe me, please, that neither my status as a nobleman nor as a sorcerer has any importance at all in my relationship with you. As it happens, I call you by your Christian name because my kind are not in the habit of using titles among ourselves, and as I am constantly obliged to do so with mere mortals, I find it wearisome to do with those whom I spend a great deal of time. As we are now spending much time together, Sarah, calling you Miss Tamony is most tiresome.”

  One of her fingers began to draw a lazy pattern on his chest. “You must take care to do so in public, my lord, lest the rumors about us begin to take on a completely different mien.”

  “I know how to behave when others are watching. Far more than you mere mortals do.”

  “I expect that’s so, my lord,” she admitted.

  “Malachi,” he prompted.

  “Malachi,” she repeated obediently. “I really mustn’t keep you from returning to Scotland. I’m certain they need you, and now that Julius is asleep, I can—”

  “It is night,” he interrupted, “and my cousins need sleep, just as you and I do. Nothing more can be accomplished until tomorrow, when I shall return and face the trouble my MacQueen cousins have wrought. This isn’t the first time one of the sons has lured a girl from the bosom of her naysaying family.”

  “I know,” she said, her green eyes lighting with a familiar fire. “Their stories should make wonderful reading. I intend to write of Calum MacQueen in my next book, and of how he stole Aileen Drummann for a friend who was sick with love for her. Except that Calum decided to keep her for himself, though she wanted none of him, for she thought him a devil and a scoundrel and hadn’t any use for his magic, especially when he used it to confound her father and his men when they came in search of—”

  Malachi groaned and, grasping Sarah by the waist, rolled her over onto her back.

  “My sweet love,” he murmured, leaning over her. “Let’s not speak of my relatives or your writing just now. We’ve but a few precious hours together. The last thing I wish to do is spend them talking of my ill-behaved family, past or present.”

  She slid her hands along his arms, up to his shoulders.

  “As you wish, Malachi. But you shall have to show me what to do. I want to please you as well as your mistresses have.”

  “You please me far more than any of them ever could,” he murmured, “and always will. But I shall be glad to be your teacher in such matters.”

  “Not half so happy, I think, as I am to be your pupil. I’ve been told,” she said with a naughty smile, “that I’m quite apt.”

  He laughed. “I have no doubt of that, love. Before we’ve done I imagine you’ll be teaching me.”

  Having enjoyed so much sleep the day before, Sarah woke long before Malachi did. She spent several moments gazing at him and pondering the significance of what had transpired. At the advanced age of twenty-six she, Sarah Tamony, had at last been someone’s lover. And not any common someone’s lover, but the Earl of Graymar’s lover, the Dewin Mawr’s lover, the incredibly handsome and amazing Malachi Seymour’s lover. She was intensely pleased.

  And then another happy thought occurred to her: she was in Mervaille.

  Sliding from the
bed, Sarah groped about for her gown, wishing she’d had the presence of mind to put on her spectacles before Malachi whisked her away. The thin garment was scarcely modest attire for exploring the house, and it was more shocking still to be barefoot, but the hour was so early that she imagined—and hoped!—none of the servants would see. Padding silently to the door, she slipped out of the room.

  Sarah found herself in the midst of a long, dimly lit hallway. She considered going back into Malachi’s room to collect a candle, but without her spectacles there was little help that such a small measure of light could provide. And she didn’t want to risk alerting any servants to her movements.

  It was a slow journey down the hall. Sarah was obliged to stand very near each portrait she passed in order to make sense of it, and her curiosity was such that every small table bearing even the most common objects was of interest to her. The first hallway led to another, and then another, until she reached a foyer that offered a number of options. One was a staircase that led both downward and upward, then there was a hallway that led, she supposed, to another wing of the house, and finally there was a pair of large, grand doors that proved to be more inviting than Sarah could resist. She hoped they were open. They were.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured as the doors swung wide to reveal a long gallery brimming with works of art and ending in one of the tall, grand windows like the one she’d seen in Malachi’s study at Glain Tarran. It ran ceiling to floor and gave a glorious view of the garden and long lawn below and, beyond that, of the Thames and London itself. The sky was still dark, with heavy clouds allowing only a few stars to peek through, but it was the kind of darkness that would soon give way to dawn, so that even as Sarah watched it began to lighten to a luminous gray.

  She didn’t know how much time passed as she made her way about the gallery, save that her eyes were beginning to ache from strain, despite the ever-brightening sky. At the far end of the room she came across a portrait of two boys, one possessed of the Seymours’ bright blond hair and brilliant blue eyes and one younger and dark-haired. They were dressed in splendid finery, their faces clean and their hair neatly brushed. Sitting between them was a large, mottled spaniel with soft, flowing ears and an intelligent, if somewhat bored, expression. In fact, the entire trio looked bored, as if they longed to be allowed to tear off the confining clothes and go romping outdoors.