“Fifty pounds,” Sage said.
“Done.” Fernsby shrugged away from Sage’s grip, sinking onto the bed beside Marianne. He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other on the mattress and leaned down to place his lips solidly on hers. It was the most chaste of kisses, brief and brotherly. When Fernsby pulled away Sage bent over her, wanting to be the first to see Marianne’s eyes open.
He waited.
Nothing happened.
“Do it again.”
“What?”
“Kiss her again,” Sage snapped, his gaze never leaving Marianne’s face. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. The air in the room felt thick and heavy, so much so he had difficulty breathing. But he focused on her face, waiting for any flicker of movement, any sign of her spirit returning to her body.
Fernsby bent down and kissed her again. The sound of his lips smacking on hers echoed in the silent room.
“Marianne?” Fernsby leaned back to peer closely at her face. “Marianne, are you awake? Is this some sort of jest?” When she remained unresponsive, he glanced back at Sage and Basil. “What’s going on here? Is there something wrong with her?”
Basil stepped forward, taking Fernsby by the arm and lifting him from the bed.
“Perhaps you might come with us,” Basil said, dragging him to the door.
“No,” Sage protested, his hand darting out to take Fernsby’s other arm, keeping him trapped between them. “I need him.”
“It’s not working, Sage.”
“It must work. There’s no other way.”
“Sage—”
But he was finished listening. He grabbed Fernsby by the lapels of his jacket.
“Do you love Marianne?”
“What?”
“Answer me! Do you love her?”
“Well, of course, that is…I mean…I care a great deal for her…”
“Do you love her?” Sage repeated the question, but his grip on Fernsby had slackened as the man attempted to answer him. It was a simple answer of yes or no. Why couldn’t he say it?
“I’m intensely fond of the girl, to be sure.”
Oh, God.
Harriet Watson was mistaken. David Fernsby did not love Marianne. Not with the passion of a beloved who might possess the strength of love to break the spell cast over her.
Sage released the man and stepped back from him. His hands fell to his sides, clenching with the strong desire to smash the in young fop’s face.
“Julia,” Basil said, coming to stand between Sage and Marianne’s would-be beloved. “Would you be so kind as to accompany Mr. Fernsby to the parlor? I believe Cook has prepared some cucumber sandwiches. I’ll remain here to have a word with my brother. Mr. Fernsby, I promise you an explanation the moment I arrive. Have patience with us, I beg of you.”
Sage allowed Basil to take the mumbling Fernsby away. The young man followed Julia out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Sage’s gaze returned to his brother.
“This was a foolish notion, Sage. You’ve put us in a dangerous and awkward predicament. I’m not certain what I can say to convince this young man not to run back to London with all sorts of mad tales about the Merriweathers paying for men to kiss the comatose Miss Grey.”
“Paying was your idea.”
“Be that as it may,” Basil said, raising his hand to stop any more of Sage’s rebuttal. “I think we should have discussed this before leaping—”
“A demon is after Marianne,” Sage said, silencing his brother. “The same demon that attacked us at Castle Blackmoor.”
“What?”
“Miss Green and her associate summoned the demon with plans to break the bond it placed on me. Something went wrong. The demon promised to release me in exchange for Marianne. If it gets her spirit, it can possess her body completely. We’ll lose Marianne forever.”
“Gods and goddesses above,” Basil muttered, backing up to sink into a chair next to the bed.
“Miss Green assisted us with finding a way to break the spell cast over Marianne. It’s an ancient spell. Marianne needs the token of her beloved to wake her. I realized the token must be a kiss of the man who loves her most. I mistakenly believed it to be Fernsby.” Sage gestured at the door, then turned to sit onto the mattress beside Marianne. He lifted her hand, cradling, stroking her slender fingers in his.
“She loves him,” he continued. He felt the pinch of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “She speaks of him often.”
Basil didn’t say anything. There were no words after all. Nothing that could help her now.
He’d failed her.
The tears fell then, drops splashing onto the smooth skin of Marianne’s warm hand.
“Where is she now?”
“Hiding. Desmonda told her to run. It will do no good. The demon will find her. We’ll know when it does. Marianne will wake, but it won’t be her.”
“You must kill her,” a voice said. Sage’s head lifted to discover Desmonda Green standing in the open doorway. He hadn’t heard her enter.
Julia’s bewildered face hovered behind her shoulder. “What did you say?”
Desmonda looked at neither Basil nor Julia, but focused on Sage. “If she wakes and the demon possesses her, you must kill her.”
“Never,” Sage growled.
“You must. There’s nowhere for Marianne’s spirit to hide that the demon will not find her. Once the demon takes possession of her spirit, it will slip into her body giving it access to this world without the control of a summoner. It will wreak havoc. Destruction. It must be stopped before it can destroy us.”
“No. I will not kill Marianne!”
“No!” Julia’s cry caught Basil’s attention. He rushed to his wife.
Desmonda advanced into the room, her hand vanishing into the folds of her skirts. When it reappeared, it held a dagger.
“If you cannot, then I will do it.”
“Do not!” Sage stood, placing himself between Marianne’s body and the approaching half-demon.
“You understand. It will no longer be Marianne. Her soul will never return to her body. The demon won’t allow it. Even now it might have possession of her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Either way, when it happens, we must destroy the demon. You, of all people, know what damage a demon can do. Would you have the rest of your family surrender to the demon’s will? Would you allow it access to your brother, his wife, his unborn child?”
“No!” Sage roared. The thought of the cursed demon anywhere near his brother’s family sent uncontrollable rage coursing through him. His chest constricted. The room seemed to dim as his vision narrowed onto Desmonda Green. His fingers burned, but he suppressed the flame that threatened to emerge.
“No one can help Marianne, now. If the beloved’s token did not work to break the spell, nothing will. David Fernsby was the last man who could save her. You know what I say is true.”
Sage closed the gap between them, wrapping his hands around her wrists, trapping her, stopping her, keeping the deadly sharp dagger from reaching Marianne.
“No! She’s my sister! You can’t!” Julia’s screams echoed from the hall where Basil dragged his crying wife from the room.
“You will not touch her.” Sage peeled the dagger from Desmonda’s fingers.
“You must kill her,” she repeated, staring into his eyes, willing him to understand.
He did.
Only too well.
He couldn’t allow the demon to possess Marianne. But he couldn’t give up on her yet. Could he?
Indecision wracked his brain.
He lifted his hands, clasping them against his head as he let out a roar of internal pain so fierce it felt physical. His heart was breaking, shattering, smashing into infinitesimal pieces that he knew he’d have no hope of ever putting back together.
“Sage…” Desmonda said.
“Enough!” He shouted. He rubbed his free hand against his eyes, swiping at the tears t
hat blinded him. “Go.”
“You must—”
“Go…before I use this dagger on you, as well.” His warning felt like a confession. Desmonda backed away, breathing a sigh of relief as she understood what he meant to do. Julia screamed as if Sage thrust the dagger into her body instead of her sister’s. Basil dragged his wife away, her screams fading. But it was Sage’s heart that felt the blade. The weapon weighed heavily in his hand. His fingers clenched the handle, thoughts of what he must do sickened him. Grief coiled around his soul. After tonight, he’d never be the same again.
How could he live without Marianne? Without her endless chatter, her constant company, her wicked wit and vibrant laughter? He didn’t know a life without Marianne. She’d always been with him. From the time she was born, she’d been part of his life, his heart. Even before he realized how his feelings had changed for her, how much he’d come to love her, she’d always touched a part of him.
He didn’t want to know a life without Marianne.
Thoughts of ending his pain caressed the edge of his consciousness. Hadn’t he been through enough grief? His parents’ death when he was young, the discovery of Basil’s terminal condition, Drake’s wife’s death leading to his brother’s descent into madness, the demon’s attack and torture and now…ending the life of a woman who meant more than the world to him.
Did he not bear the burden of enough pain? And the question remained…how could Sage go on living with Marianne’s blood on his hands? She trusted him. She looked to him to protect her, save her. Instead, he would bring her death.
How quick could the dagger go from Marianne’s body to his?
That new question lingered, teasing his thoughts as his soul felt the crush of agony.
He sank onto the mattress beside her, reaching out to cup her cheek with his free hand, the dagger poised on his lap. Her skin felt silky smooth and warm.
She was so beautiful. The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. No one had ever compared to her. He realized how blind he had been for these many years, not to acknowledge the beauty in front of him all of this time.
He wept. It didn’t matter if the half-demon watched silently from across the room, or if his brother battled with Julia somewhere in the hall. Sage let the tears fall for his beautiful Marianne. The woman he could not save.
Sage bent over her, resting his forehead against hers, inhaling her scent, her breath. He closed his eyes and let the feel of her press against his skin. This was all he had of her. An empty shell.
Where was she now? Alone, running for her life. A life she had yet to know was at an end. Was she frightened? Did she await his rescue?
He trembled.
“Marianne,” he whispered against her skin. “Come back to me, my love.” He rained kisses across her forehead, down her cheeks as he raised the dagger up between them, placing the sharpened edge along the length of pale cream of her neck. A quick thrust and it would be done, and then he could finish himself.
“Meet me in the ever-after, my darling, and we will walk among the world of our ancestors. Together. Hand in hand. Please, Marianne…”
He kissed the lids of her eyes, the tip of her nose.
“I love you, my heart.”
One last kiss before he ended it. He placed his lips over hers, pressing the dagger close. This was how he’d finish it. A kiss, with their blood mingling. With any luck, their deaths would be quick, and their bond would be strong enough to find each other in the ever-after.
And then her lips opened.
Her body moved beneath him, and she was kissing him back. It was a dream, he knew. Perhaps he had thrust the dagger and was dead already. He deepened the kiss, pulling her breath into him, her very being so she became a part of him.
Her arms came up, holding him against her. And then she broke away from the kiss to say his name.
“Sage.”
The sound of her soft murmur thrilled him. Warmth spread throughout his body, hardening him. His desire for her was unquestionable. All the lost moments he’d had in the past, all those times he might have wooed her, charmed her, loved her. He had let them all slip away.
Now too late, he had the opportunity to show her how he felt for her.
He let the forgotten dagger slip from between them. Easily he dropped it to the floor, not daring to see their blood staining the blade.
With both hands free, he gathered her into his arms, wrapping himself around her to hold her, keep her close. He’d never let her go again.
“Is this real?” Her breath was a gentle wind against his cheek.
“No.” He shook his head, his skin brushing against hers. “It no longer matters. Nothing matters, but you’re here with me, at last.”
He kissed her again, this time with more desperation. He ravaged her mouth, softening only when he heard her whimpers. Having no wish to hurt her, he began to draw away, but her hands gripped his shoulders, keeping him in place.
Being this was either dream or death, it seemed just that she would welcome him. In life Marianne would never have slipped her legs around his to tangle her limbs against him. She would never have whispered his name with such wanton desire. Nor would she have looked at him with those dreamy eyes as if he was the shining knight as told in so many stories come to her rescue.
Tears crept back into his eyes.
“What’s this?” Her fingertips brushed against the wetness that had fallen onto her cheek.
“I’m sorry, Marianne. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I failed you.”
“Shh…” She moved a finger to his lips. “I’m here now.”
He nodded. Then lowered his head to her neck where he kissed and nibbled the skin. Her gasp of delight encouraged him to reach further. He traveled to the bodice of her gown, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric to gently enfold one silky breast in his hand. The peak stiffened at his touch, and he bent to take one tip in his mouth.
She gasped.
His blood thrummed through his body, his heart beat a fierce rhythm, singing a song of love for Marianne. This was his moment. His chance to shower affection upon her. To show without words how his heart was hers alone.
He touched her body, feeling her heat through the thin fabric of her gown. She opened her legs, and he touched the juncture of her thighs. Her back arched; a little whimper escaped her lips. When he looked up, her face turned to one side, her eyes closed, her hands reaching into her hair to grasp the strawberry locks.
With one hand, he bunched the fabric of her dress, gathering it upward until her body lay exposed. She wore nothing beneath.
The sight of her nude body thrilled him, spurring him on like an untried youth. He craved her, knew he couldn’t wait; he must have her.
He unfastened his breeches, his hardness springing forth in eagerness.
Before he could go any further, her hand was there, tentatively touching him, caressing him, squeezing him.
He closed his eyes and groaned.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Quite the opposite. You give me incredible pleasure.”
She continued to stroke him. He marveled at the capacity of love he felt for her. He never thought to feel such a way about another human being. To care so deeply, so passionately, that the rest of the world fell away completely. It was only the two of them, in this moment, and he hoped this was the Heaven they spoke of during those Sunday church outings he had been forced to attend as a child so they could better blend in with the community. If this is what welcomed him after death, he would never regret the decisions he had made.
“Sage.” She whispered his name on a soft moan escaping her lips.
He pulled her hand away to position himself at her opening. Then he pushed into her. Her slick heat welcomed him, and he felt at last he had found where he belonged. This was his home, his heart, his world. He was one half of a whole with this woman completing his soul.
Marianne’s hands were undoing the buttons of his shirt until she could slip her f
ingers across the skin of his chest. She writhed beneath him, her hips moving to welcome each thrust. Her eagerness warmed him, thrilled him, made him want to show her more, show her everything they could attain together, take her to the summit where he could show her how to reach the stars with him.
But to his dismay, he could not wait for this time. In his excitement, his lust for her overwhelmed him and he was spilling his seed into her. Then she was with him, calling his name, her muscles squeezing around him, her body clenching as those beautiful spasms shivered across her skin. They fell back to the world together, clutching each other.
He held her to him, closing his eyes as he rested his head next to hers.
“I love you, Marianne,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you.”
“This is amazing. What a beautiful dream,” Marianne whispered back, her fingers caressing the flesh on his chest. “I wish all my dreams were as wonderful as this.”
He smiled, filled with contentment. So much that he didn’t respond to the sound of the door opening. He was dead, so what did he care for doors?
“Ah, here you are. I simply knew this is where I’d find you.”
A sick chill vibrated through Sage’s body at the sultry tones of the woman who walked into the room. He looked up. The demon walked slowly toward them.
He grabbed Marianne’s shoulders and dragged her with him as he slid off the bed. Quickly, he fastened his trousers as he faced the demon. From the corner of his vision, he saw Marianne cover her bare breasts with her bodice.
What was this? They were dead. How could the demon find them beyond death?
“I was that close,” she said, holding up her hands to show a small space between. “I found her in a church. A church! She thought to hide from me there. As if the power of any god might save her. Foolish child.” The demon glanced at Marianne, smirking. “But just as I was about to take her for my own, she vanished. What magic is this, I wondered? Who had the power to help her escape? And then I knew…”
Her red gaze leveled onto his. The power of her evil sent a shiver of fear along his spine. He raised his hands to prepare his defensive magic, knowing it wouldn’t work. He had no magic to save them.
The Witch's Kiss Page 15
