His lordship nodded his sympathy. “But what can I do?”
Dagonet leaned forward in his chair and caught the man’s eyes. “Use your magic. You’re very strong. You excel in reversing magic. Perhaps you can remove this… this gift.”
“Have you spoken with Merlin? Asked him?”
Dagonet sat back again. He shook his head. “Only the high priestess has access to him. Only she has the water of Avalon and the chalice so that she can communicate with him.”
“Why didn’t you ask him when you spoke to him last week?” Vallentyn asked. It was a most reasonable question.
Dagonet gave a sad little laugh. “I’ve been kicking myself for not doing so ever since, I can assure you. But it just didn’t seem right. It was so much more important that Merlin focus on Lady Vallentyn and your children, I just couldn’t ask him for a favor for me.”
Vallentyn got up and took Dagonet’s empty glass from his hands. He took both and refilled them from the decanter on the side table. “You’re a good man, Sir Arthur…”
“But?” Dagonet asked, as his host paused.
He turned and came back with the two glasses. “But I don’t know that I’m strong enough to reverse magic created by the great Merlin—magic that has been in place for hundreds of years.”
He handed Dagonet his glass back. “If Lady Vallentyn hadn’t lost her powers, I would have said you might try asking her, but…”
“Yes.” Dagonet downed the contents of his glass in one gulp.
Vallentyn just looked at him. “But I will try.” He took a sip of his drink and then gave a laugh. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”
The pounding of running footsteps preceded a vigorous knock on the door. “My lord! My lord!”
“What is it?” Vallentyn jumped from his chair as a maid fell into the room, tears streaming down her face.
“My lord, the boys! They’ve both collapsed. Ewan… Ewan…” she couldn’t speak for the sobs choking her voice.
Vallentyn didn’t wait for the maid to gather herself but took off at a run, throwing his glass to shatter against the sideboard on his way out the door.
“SPRING THE HORSES,” Tatiana instructed her driver as he helped her climb into the carriage. “Go as fast as you can. Go! Go!” She hadn’t even allowed the vehicle to come to a halt outside of the man’s house before reaching for the door handle. They had to be off—now!
Kate had been intelligent for once and brought authorities with her to take care of the rapist. The moment they had come into the house, Tatiana had started to maneuver herself up. Levering her heavy form off the sofa was no easy feat.
The man had been stupid enough to attempt to run the moment she’d released him from her magical hold, but the men coming into the house had caught him easily enough.
She didn’t wait to see what they were going to do. She could only hope that Kate had explained the necessary facts to them. Tatiana didn’t have a moment to spare. She had to get back home. She had to see to her children.
Kate gave a startled scream as the driver did just as Tatiana had instructed before the girl had even fully climbed into the coach. She landed on the floor in a heap but quickly righted herself, pulled the door closed and sat on the seat facing Tatiana.
They could do nothing but stare at each other. Tatiana wondered if her own face reflected the horrid mixture of terror and sorrow on her niece’s.
“It’s going to be all right,” Tatiana said, after she could no longer stand the silence. “They were getting better when we left. They were getting stronger.”
She had to believe this. The alternative… was unthinkable.
Kate just nodded, saying nothing, which was probably wise.
Chapter Twenty–Three
KATE SAT AND Watched her aunt grow paler with every passing mile. Watched the strongest, fiercest woman she’d ever known tremble. Watched as emotions grew and faded unheeded on her aunt’s normally stoic face.
And it was her fault. If she’d been as strong as Sir Arthur had thought her, as both her aunt and uncle had believed her to be, she would have been able to defeat that man, the rapist. But she hadn’t been. She hadn’t been strong enough.
She had finally had the opportunity to fix something and she’d failed. Her one opportunity to prove… Perhaps she wasn’t capable of doing anything more, of being anything more than a glorified nanny—one who could teach magic to others because she wasn’t truly capable of doing any herself.
But that was not true. She could do magic. Just not very strong magic. Not as strong as she’d thought.
If she’d been strong enough… If she’d had the ability to do something to stop the rapist... Her aunt wouldn’t have broken the binds that tied her children’s lives to her. She wouldn’t have had to use her powers to stop him. The children would have been safe. Her aunt would have been happy. Sir Arthur and her uncle would have been proud. She would have proven herself capable.
Instead she returned in defeat. The children were dead or dying; her aunt was on the verge of a nervous collapse, madness, or both. Kate didn’t even want to think about what sort of reception awaited them at Vallentyn.
One thing she knew for certain… this time fighting back wouldn’t work.
When her mother was dying, she’d thought she could do something to fight death. When her father had remarried, she’d challenged him and would have done the same to his wife as well. When she needed to establish a role for herself at Vallentyn, she’d worked hard to make herself indispensable. Each and every time she’d fought for what she felt was right or necessary, but now… now there was no fight left in her.
This time she was squarely the one at fault.
Her aunt’s scorn would be well deserved, for once. Her uncle’s disappointment as well.
She could live with that, oddly enough. The first she was used to. The second, well… it would upset her, but it was warranted. What would hurt the most would be Sir Arthur’s reaction.
He had counted on her to care for her aunt, to help her, and she had let him down. She had told him that she could handle this, and she hadn’t.
It was just as well he’d refused to take her with him when he left. She didn’t deserve the happiness that he could bring her. And she knew now that being with him was all she’d truly ever wanted—ever since the first day on the bridge when he’d startled her into nearly falling into the river.
No. Even if he offered to take her away now, she couldn’t go with him.
She didn’t deserve him. She’d failed.
THE HOURS MOVED like molasses. But not once did the driver let up on the pace. It was best for him that he didn’t. If they had slowed down even the smallest bit, he would have found himself turned into a cockroach.
Tatiana grabbed on to the strap to keep herself from flying across the coach as it careened around a sharp turn. The familiar sight of the Vallentyn forest flew by, followed by the rattling of the wheels as they crossed the bridge. She reached forward and unlatched the door, ready to descend from the carriage even before it had come to a complete stop.
Her heart pounded in her ears. Fear licked through her veins. The refrain that had echoed in her mind throughout the journey sounded louder and louder, until she realized she was saying it out loud. “Let them be alive. Let them be alive. Let them be well.”
Sir Arthur appeared before anyone had placed a step for her. He lifted her bodily from the vehicle, keeping one strong arm around her waist to keep her from toppling over, as she tried to get into the house as quickly as possible. A glance at his sheet–white cheeks told her more than she wanted to know.
She stumbled, but his strength kept her upright and moving forward. Up the stairs. Up the second flight. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t catch her breath. Yet the words still came from her mouth, whispered on what little air she had. “Let them be alive. Let them be alive.”
He opened the door to the nursery. Kit sat by Jaimie’s bed, tears streaming unheeded down his face.
<
br /> “No!” Kate’s cry, coming from behind, startled Tatiana, but she pushed forward.
Ewan’s entire form was covered. Still. He was absolutely still.
Tatiana fell into Kit’s waiting arms but wouldn’t stay there, she couldn’t. She glanced down at Jaimie. His eyes were open, sunken dark circles in his pale white face. For a moment the only sound in the room was his rattled breathing. He blinked once and gave her a smile. “Mummy.” His lips formed the word, although no sound came out. With one last gurgling breath, he closed his eyes.
Silence.
A loud thump on the floor told her that Kate had collapsed. By some miracle, Tatiana remained on her feet.
Her niece’s sobs were now the only sound in the room. Until Tatiana's scream from a pain which reached deep inside her core and ripped her heart out.
Kit’s arms came around her. Another pair of arms helped them both out of the room, maneuvering them around Kate, who was still in a heaving pile of sobs on the floor.
“I’ve got her,” Kit said finally, his voice hoarse with pain. “You look after Kate.”
Sir Arthur let Tatiana go and returned to the nursery.
Tatiana tried to breath, tried to support herself, but the pain was too intense. “Caroline?” It was all she could get out.
“Fine. She’s fine,” Kit said. “It was only the boys who relapsed.”
“Boys!” Tatiana spat the word out of her mouth.
It was then she realized that it wasn’t just pain that had been torn from her core. There was a warmth running down her legs, soaking into her skirts.
Water. Her water. The baby’s water. The shivering started in her knees but quickly climbed up her body until her teeth chattered with it.
Kit started to direct her toward her room. “You need to get—”
“No!” She shook her head and tried to keep her jaw still enough to talk. “No. The forest. Take me to the forest. I need… the midwife.”
Kit’s eyes widened and he looked down, finally taking in the state of her dress. “Oh God, not now.”
“Now!”
Chapter Twenty–Four
THE CHILD CAME quickly. Too quickly? Tatiana didn’t know. She only knew that by the time sheets and a mattress had been laid on the ground in the clearing, the baby was well on her way.
“Breathe now, my love, breathe.” Kit guided her as he had done with all of their children.
Her mother had been horrified when Tatiana had wanted him with her at the birth of their first child. Now, the midwife and children’s nanny, Maryellen, accepted it.
Tatiana could only grunt in pain and effort.
Breathe, push, strain, breathe… breathe… breathe...
It didn’t take long. The fire witnessing from nearby began to burn brightly. A light breeze tickled her cheeks with its encouragement as she struggled. The earth cradled her in her time of need and the river sang its soothing song, a pleasant backdrop to Kit’s calming voice. “Breathe, my love, breathe.”
Grunt, strain, breathe… breathe… grunt, strain…
Finally, the sound she’d been waiting for after nearly nine long months—the baby’s cry.
Tatiana relaxed and allowed herself to give Kit the smallest of smiles. Such joy in such a time of sorrow. It was difficult. Too difficult.
But finally her daughter was born. The seventh child of the seventh child in the seventh generation. Destined to be the most powerful Vallen. Destined to renew their people to their former strength, strength that had been bred out of them through the passing of the generations. Her Morgan, who would…
“My… my lady!” Maryellen’s voice interrupted Tatiana’s happy thoughts.
“What is it?” Kit asked, immediately at the woman’s side. He looked down at the child in her hands. “Oh, my God!”
“Kit! What?” Tatiana struggled to rise on to her elbows.
He looked up at her, then back down to the child.
“What is wrong with her? Answer me!” Fear coursed through her. The wind picked up and the fire burned ever brighter. Or had the air simply grown warmer?
“It’s… it’s a boy.” Kit’s voice whispered to her on the breeze.
Tatiana’s heart froze. “What? But that’s not… No! Let me see her! You’re mistaken!”
Kit took the child carefully from Maryellen and stepped forward so she could see.
The child stopped crying. It was unmistakably a boy.
“No!” The wind whipped through Tatiana’s hair, prying it free from her forehead where it had been plastered with sweat. Heat swirled around them, threatening to burst into flames. Kit jumped as a bolt of lightning shot into the ground just feet from where he stood coddling the infant in his arms.
“Tatiana, stop this! Stop it right now. You cannot kill our son. Haven’t we lost enough already?”
“Our son?” she repeated, fury burning through her. “And what of my daughter?” she shouted over the gale of hot wind that wove around them. “What of the prophecy? What...” her voice faltered.
She was tired. Too tired. Although the birth had been easier than many of the others, she was getting old. Had suffered too much for one day. This was the breaking point. She would take no more.
How could this have happened? Her child. Her beloved. Her daughter. Seventh child of the seventh child in the seventh generation—a boy! A weak little boy.
Tatiana shoved down the pain that threatened to overwhelm her and instead burst forth with another bolt of anger, coming even closer to Kit this time.
“I don’t know, Tatiana. Truly, I don’t know. But you cannot kill him!” Her husband demanded, standing his ground as the sweat poured down his forehead.
In a very brief moment of weakness, Tatiana almost felt for him. But then she caught sight of the abomination in his arms, and the hot wind picked up once more.
“I can, and I will,” she shouted. “He was not meant to be. I was to have a girl. She was to be the most powerful Vallen in generations, as powerful as Morgan Le Fey.” Tatiana could barely keep the tears from her voice. “My Morgan. She was to be...”
“I know, Tatiana,” Kit’s voice filled with soothing magic. “But he is still our seventh child. Perhaps he will be powerful. Perhaps the prophecy will still hold...”
“Perhaps? Perhaps nothing! Perhaps he will burn in hell!” The temperature around them rose even hotter.
“Perhaps we all will, but you cannot kill him. Swear to me that you will not.” Kit’s pale blue eyes looked deeply into hers. She could feel herself crack and cool. How could he do this to her? He was a man, and not nearly as powerful as she, and yet... “I swear.” The words burned through her. They scorched the air and hung for a moment dripping sweat, and then blew away on his cooling breeze.
The child peered at her from within the protective cocoon of his father’s arms, his large dark eyes framed with black lashes so like her own. He reached out a small, fisted hand toward her, but Tatiana turned away. She hated him as she had never hated before.
THEY HELD THE funeral for Jamie and Ewan four days later. Kate couldn’t believe Aunt Vallentyn was up and about so quickly after the birth of Morgan. Perhaps refusing to even see the baby, let alone care for him, gave her the opportunity to rest and recover more quickly.
A wet nurse had been brought in to feed the baby. Maryellen took full responsibility for him. Kate couldn’t even imagine what it would be like for the poor little boy to grow up in such a way, without the love of his mother.
If Kate could have done anything for him, she would have. She hated seeing an infant abandoned in this way, but she knew nothing about babies or caring for them. Her aunt had only allowed her to teach the children magic and then only after they’d turned three or four, depending on how precocious they’d been with their budding powers.
No, poor little Morgan would have to rely on his nanny and his father for love and care. Thank God they were both there. If it wasn’t for Uncle Kit, Kate was certain her aunt would have killed the c
hild. As it was, Aunt Vallentyn refused to even acknowledge his existence.
Now she spent all her time recovering from the birth and caring for little Caroline who was still recuperating from her illness—but at least the little girl showed improvement.
Everyone filed out of the graveyard. Kate took one look at her aunt, silently mourning her children in the black–draped open carriage, and turned away.
“Kate, aren’t you coming with us?” Uncle Kit asked, coming toward her.
She took a few steps forward to meet him. “No. I think I’ll walk back.”
“Are you certain? It’s over a mile, and so hot and sunny.” He frowned up at the clear, blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight to help relieve them of the heat of mid–summer.
It was odd that her aunt’s distress hadn’t brought on storms today. Kate supposed her anger had cooled to a quieter sadness that allowed the sun to shine.
“It’s all right. I’ve got my parasol, and I’ll enjoy the exercise.”
“Sir Arthur is coming with us,” he said, clearly trying to entice her.
It was sweet of him, truly, but aside from allowing the knight to help her after she’d fainted at Jamie’s death, she’d avoided Sir Arthur. Just being in his presence hurt. She knew he would leave soon, never to return—it was too painful. Every moment she spent in his company was like a cruel twist on the knife in her heart. She now understood that most horrid of emotions—love.
An idea pushed itself to the forefront of Kate’s mind—one that had been sitting there quietly, building up justification for quite some time. Now was clearly the time to act on that idea. As she contemplated her idea, it became even more imperative that she walk back to the house so she could put her plan into action.
She turned and saw the staff head back toward the house in groups of three and four. There, she saw him; the one person she needed. She turned back to her uncle and gave him a little smile.
Bridging the Storm Page 16
