Fascination -and- Charmed

by Stella Cameron

  “Sleep,” Milo ordered, frowning ferociously at his visitors. “Go. Now. My sister is exhausted. Our life isn’t easy. We don’t need your meddling to make it worse.”

  “Miranda is ill?” Calum asked, feeling some guilt at knowing that his primary concern was the possibility of losing his one definite source of information.

  “She’s tired, is all,” the man said. “Go away.”

  “Red-haired one?” the woman called. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” Calum said, forcing his way past Milo. “Come, Struan, and meet my friends Milo and Miranda. They travel around the country with fairs and sometimes with troupes of traveling players. They make marvelous potions that help all manner of ailments, and wherever they go, people await their coming with great hope.” He noted a softening in Milo’s stance and approached a narrow bed on the far side of the small room.

  “It is you,” the woman in the bed said. Unlike her brother, her sand-colored hair had not begun to turn gray. She appeared still young, although closer inspection revealed a network of fine lines on her handsome face. “Who is with you?”

  “This is…” Calum hesitated, looking at Struan.

  “I am Struan, Viscount Hunsingore,” Struan said without hesitation and offered the woman a polite bow. “Calum has told me about you. I wanted to come with him. He tells me you know about the place and circumstances of his birth.”

  “Say nothing more.” Milo spoke loudly and shuffled to the side of the bed. “I told you, Miranda. Say nothing more, or we shall be punished. She will punish us.”

  “It is so long ago now,” Miranda said, making an effort to sit up. “The time has come for justice to be done, just as I always knew it would.”

  “She warned you to say nothing,” Milo insisted, wringing his bony hands.

  “Hush,” Miranda said, but she smiled gently. “No one has seen her since…Not since she left.”

  “They’ve seen Guido and he insists she lives still, and that she wishes only to forget.”

  “Then she should have considered her actions before she committed such a crime,” Miranda said. “There are evil things I am powerless to change. But it is time to right this wrong. I feel it. I have felt it ever since the child found us.”

  “Child?” Struan said, clearly puzzled.

  “The child who was brought to the camp beneath the hill where Franchot Castle stands,” Miranda said.

  Struan frowned deeply and met Calum’s eyes.

  “Sores,” Milo said, his voice rising to a wail. “Wounds and festering. Bones that break at a touch. Fingernails and toenails that fall out in the breeze. Eyes that will no longer see. All these were promised to us if the silence were ever to be broken.”

  “Rachel is no more!” Miranda said sharply. “She has not been seen in many years, not since the boy was sick and she took him to find help.”

  Rachel. Calum heard the name and took it to his heart.

  “I tell you she is not dead,” Milo declared with desperation. “I tell you that if you break the silence, she will find us and torture us. And there are others to whom even Rachel answers who will finish what she starts.”

  “Guido told this?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes,” Milo said with finality. “It is already rumored among the players that the boy who was left in Scotland did not die and—” He clapped a hand over his mouth, and veins stood out in the papery skin at his temples.

  “The boy who was left in Scotland,” Calum said, dragging air into his aching lungs. “What boy who was left? Miranda told me of a baby who was brought to your camp near Franchot Castle in Cornwall. She said the baby came after the Duchess of Franchot had given birth and then died within days of that birth. Then Miranda would say no more. I implore you. Tell me all you know. I shall have no peace until I can understand everything.”

  “We cannot help you,” Milo said. “Go away and leave us alone.”

  “You think I was that baby, don’t you?” Some of this had been all but admitted. Now Calum wanted absolute confirmation. “Was I brought to the camp by the woman Rachel?”

  “Do not say another word,” Milo implored his sister. “What is finished is finished.”

  “I shall have to think,” Miranda said, and she fell back onto her pillows. “I have been ill with a fever. Now I must gain my strength again.”

  “Tell me if this Rachel brought a baby to your camp in Cornwall thirty-five years ago.”

  Miranda closed her eyes and said weakly, “Yes. Now leave me.”

  “Go,” Milo insisted.

  “Why did you think I was the Duke of Franchot?”

  “For several years the child grew among the players and the performers,” Miranda said. “He grew strong and happy. We all cared for him. He carried the pan among the audience and they gave generously because he made them smile.”

  Calum turned aside. Colored cloth. Stars in dark skies. Fires. The scent of smoke and the crackle of sparks. Costumes that swirled, red and yellow and gold. Coins on headdresses. And coins that clinked against metal in the pan he held. Laughter. “You are young to be so sure of yourself, my boy.” “See how he holds himself? Like a prince strutting among his subjects rather than a beggar-boy among his betters.”

  The pictures and the voices did not come often to his mind, and never had they been as vivid as in the moment just past. “You traveled to Scotland, didn’t you, Miranda? The boy traveled with you.”

  She tossed restlessly.

  “Can’t you see she is exhausted?” Milo said, and Calum heard genuine concern in the old man’s voice. “Leave us, I beg you, so that I may tend her.”

  “Let me help,” Calum offered. “Let me arrange a more comfortable place for you. And good food and warmth.”

  “We are warm here,” Milo replied. “I thank you. But I am well equipped to tend my sister’s sickness.”

  Calum looked dubiously into Milo’s bright blue eyes. “Answer me one question, and then I will go. For now. I was told by certain people in Scotland that a boy was seen with a traveling troupe near the village of Kirkcaldy. They were not expected there, but had chosen to stop because one of their number was exceedingly sick.”

  “I cannot speak of this.”

  “The sick one was the boy,” Calum persisted. “And he was taken to Castle Kirkcaldy and left in the stable yard because it was feared that he was dying. Someone cared enough about him to hope that the people at the castle would take him in and somehow save him.”

  “No.”

  “That child had come into the camp near Franchot Castle five years before, and Miranda has reason to believe he was heir to the then Duke of Franchot, but that he was stolen from his cradle.”

  “No, I tell you.”

  “Yes.” The voice, Miranda’s faint voice, came from behind Milo, and they all turned to look at her.

  “Tell me,” Calum begged.

  “The baby may have been a noble baby,” Miranda said. “And that baby became the boy who was left at Castle Kirkcaldy.”

  “And I was that boy,” Calum said, making fists at his sides. “I ask only for a chance to know for sure who I am. Perhaps then I can find peace.”

  “Or the beginning of a quest that may cost you your life—if you don’t lose it tomorrow morning,” Struan said, ramming his fingers through his hair. “I beg you to come with me, Calum. This night is going to cost us both dearly.”

  Calum knew his friend was seeing a silent, dark-haired beauty, yet he could think clearly of nothing but the closeness of the truth about his identity.

  “You must go now,” Miranda said, her voice stronger. “I have told you I will consider all these things, and I will. If I decide it is wise—and safe—I will help you.”

  “When?” Calum asked in desperation.

  “That will depend upon a great many things. We must discover for sure whether our lives will be in danger if we tell you more.”

  “Where is this Rachel?”

  “Ah,” Miranda said, smiling a littl
e. “You have realized that she is the answer. But I cannot tell you where she is, or if she is anywhere at all. For the first, if she still lives, we may never come to you. If she does not still live, our coming to you may be fruitless in your cause. In the end, only Rachel can prove if you are who you think you may be.”

  “But is there nothing you can do to help me without her?”

  “There was something, something Rachel would not have dared to destroy. Perhaps we can discover where it is. It might be proof enough, or it might not. But do not press me further now.”

  Calum looked at the stained ceiling. “What is this something?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Very well.” He could not continue to fight, not tonight. “Tell me one thing and one thing only, and we will leave.”

  “No,” Milo shouted. “Get out.”

  “One thing,” Miranda agreed.

  Calum stared hard into her clear eyes. “Do you believe I am the rightful Duke of Franchot?”

  Her lips parted, and for an instant he thought she wouldn’t respond. Then she said, “Yes.”

  Charmed Six

  “Pippa!” Lady Justine entered Pippa’s chamber without knocking, closed the door and leaned upon it. “Something very dangerous is occurring.”

  “What is it?” Pippa asked, going to Justine and tentatively touching her hands. “Has something gone wrong with our plan?”

  “Not yet,” Justine said. Her face showed signs of desperate strain. “Nelly is standing guard.”

  “But it is not time for us to start dealing with—”

  “Do not speak aloud of that,” Justine implored. “Not when so much depends upon the outcome. Not when we shall, very likely, find ourselves banished to the dungeons beneath Franchot Castle if we are discovered.”

  “Ooh, bother!” Pippa bounced in her agitation. “I shall not allow any such thing to happen to us. And I cannot bear to wait another moment.”

  Justine held up an imperious finger. “We will commence soon enough.” The words were reasonable. Her voice held barely restrained panic. “It is not time, but there is someone below—in the gardens—who must be persuaded to leave forthwith.”

  Pippa grew quite still. “In the gardens?” she squeaked. “At past midnight? How do you know there is someone in the gardens who must be persuaded to leave?”

  “Because he had his servant come to the kitchens and ask for Nelly. The man asked for Lady Philipa’s maid, mind you, as plain as that!”

  “Oh, my.” Pippa’s hand went to her throat. “It’s him, isn’t it? Calum?”

  “Calum, indeed,” Justine agreed. She looked away. “He pleases you a great deal, doesn’t he?”

  Pippa felt herself redden. “He is gentle and kind…and manly,” she finished quickly, casting aside caution.

  “Yes, I see that you do indeed like Calum Innes. The man is charming and I liked him on sight myself, but he shows very poor judgment in coming here so late at night—particularly on this night.”

  “I have put you in a most difficult position,” Pippa said unhappily. “Only bear with me tonight and I shall not press you into further intolerable service on my behalf.”

  Justine smiled and her dark eyes glistened. “I do not find service on your behalf intolerable. I am happy to help you. You are the brightest creature who has ever entered my life and I want the best for you. I only wish—” She broke off and looked away.

  “You wish?” Pippa pressed.

  “I…I only wish I were more brave,” Justine said, sounding remarkably brave already. “But we really must persuade Calum Innes to leave our gardens. Tonight, of all nights, it would be catastrophic if he were as much as glimpsed in the vicinity of this house by someone who then told Etienne.”

  “Oh, my,” Pippa whispered. “This calls for extraordinary measures. I must persuade him to leave without delay.”

  “I agree,” Justine said. “Put on a cloak over your gown and run down the back stairs. I will watch in case someone comes looking for you. There is a little door at the bottom of the stairs that leads into the potting shed. Only I seem to remember it is there.”

  “Is that the door you—” Pippa changed her mind about asking that question.

  “It’s the door I used to enter the house after Etienne’s return this morning,” Justine said matter-of-factly. “Let us not dally with further discussion. The potting shed is hidden from the rest of the gardens by a hedge. Calum Innes is waiting for you there. If he goes nowhere else, he will not be seen.”

  “I will make him leave at once.”

  “He should use the door by which he entered from the alley. The one in the side wall near the shed.”

  “He will. I’ll insist.”

  Donning a gray wool cloak, Pippa swirled out of the chamber and slipped along the corridor. From lower regions of the house came the raucous bellows of the Duke of Franchot and his friends, who had been gambling and drinking for many hours.

  Justine followed Pippa as fast as her lame leg would allow and showed her the way to the back stairs. Very soon Pippa pushed through a stiff door into a dusty shed where the air was thick with the smells of earth. Old, dry earth. Evidently the shed was not used much anymore. As Pippa went toward grimy windows that shone dully in the moon’s light, thick swags of cobwebs caught at her hair and brushed her face.

  The door to the garden had a window. Through it Pippa saw the dark shape of a tall man. While she stared, he turned and his profile was sharply etched by moonlight.

  How could two men be more different than Calum Innes and the Duke of Franchot?

  How could it be that one—unwittingly, it was true—held her heart in his very hands, while the other was about to own every part of her but her heart?

  How could she send away the man she…the man she could probably love?

  Pippa approached the door, turned the handle and pulled it open. Cool, clean air bathed her.

  Calum was already striding to meet Pippa. Before she could take another step, he arrived before her and pushed back her hood. “I had to see you,” he said, his voice deep with some emotion. “Thank you for coming to me.”

  She must not admit that she wished she need never leave him again.

  Gently, so gently, Calum touched her hair. “You cannot know how this moment feels,” he murmured, his gaze settling on her mouth.

  “I—”

  Whatever she might have said was obliterated by the sealing of her lips by Calum’s. His enfolding arms held her in a crushing embrace, but she discovered she enjoyed being crushed by him.

  He kissed her long and deep. Every slanting stroke of his mouth upon hers searched for her response, and as best she could, she gave him what he searched for.

  Pippa rose to her toes and twined her arms about his strong neck. Calum’s chest was a warm, solid, unyielding wall that absorbed the pressure of her soft, slight form and made her feel as she had never felt before. His big, hard body made Pippa feel very feminine and very protected—and she found she liked those feelings a great deal.

  “Did I bring you from your bed?” he asked gruffly when he finally lifted his face a scant inch or so from hers. “I told your maid she must bring you at any cost. She is a clever girl. She understood my urgency without a lot of questions.”

  “Nelly is clever,” Pippa agreed breathlessly. She touched his lips with shaky fingers and he kissed their sensitive tips. “Oh,” she murmured, and her eyes drifted shut.

  The next kisses she felt were on her closed eyelids. “I wasn’t in bed,” she told him. “I have been too worried about tomorrow to sleep.”

  “I—want—you,” he said against her cheek. He slid his arms beneath the cloak and pressed her against him. “I tried to stay away, but I had to come because I cannot bear to think of you here. Here, with him.”

  And she could not bear that either, but what choice did she have? Pippa nuzzled her face beneath his jaw and tasted salt on his skin. She loved the feel of him, the smell of him. He was b
ig and hard and warm, and his scent was of leather and clean linen and something undefinable that was unique to Calum Innes, something totally male and totally intoxicating to Pippa.

  She parted her lips to touch her tongue to the strong pulse in his neck and he groaned.

  That groan excited Pippa. Heat began to gather low in her body. A most surprising sensation. “Calum,” she said, holding his shoulders. She tested the contours of his neck with the very tip of her tongue—all the way to the cleft in his chin.

  Calum groaned again. There was satisfaction in that groan, and something more—or something that asked for more.

  Pippa felt suddenly bold. Leaning away for a moment, she looked at his face. His eyes were closed. Making the best of her advantage, she bobbed up to her tiptoes, urged his face down and kissed him full on the mouth.

  Instantly his lips parted and with yet another groan, he slipped his tongue deep into her mouth and rocked her face with the force of his ardor.

  And he did something else, something most extraordinary. Calum’s hands went to Pippa’s bottom. They went there and held her in a shockingly intimate manner. And while his hands spread, the fingers surrounding and pressing and molding her, he brought “That” part of him against her belly.

  He was very large and very hard—and very hot. And Pippa was mad with the desire to know a great deal more about That.

  “Come with me,” he said, and drew her lower lip between his teeth. Gently, he nipped and slowly released her tender flesh. “Come away with me now. I came here direct from Hanover Square. I left my friend Viscount Hunsingore there and had the cab bring me on. We should return to set Struan’s mind at ease, then make our escape.”

  Pippa could not get any air into her lungs. His fingers were steely, but she craved that steel. And she craved it probing her.

  “The hackney is in the mews. We can be away before anyone misses you.”

  Pippa had never drunk intoxicating liquor. If she ever did, she was certain it would make her feel like this. “Kiss me again, Calum.”

  It grows very late, dear one. Someone is bound to notice your absence and raise the alarm soon. Let it be an alarm that should be raised. Let it be because you have left and they cannot find you.”