Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01]

by Touch of Night

  Niclas brought Enoch to a slow halt with one hand, and lifted his other to cradle Julia’s upturned face.

  “You are not an embarrassment or a burden or a disappointment,” he murmured, gazing into those blue eyes that had begun to fill with silent tears. “You are among the most beautiful women I’ve ever known, and any man would count it a gift beyond measure to call you his wife.”

  It was a reckless thing to say, he told himself as he lowered his mouth to hers. She would expect him to propose, most likely, just as any nobly bred female would do. And he wished he could. God help him, he wished he could be the man to name her as his.

  She twisted in the saddle to meet him more fully, to fit herself to him. One soft, feminine arm slid about his neck and pulled him close, and Niclas answered readily, deepening the embrace.

  He wasn’t quite certain how long it lasted, but by the time he brought the kiss to an end they were both breathing rather harshly.

  “I apologize,” he managed after a moment. “I have kissed you twice now, and held your hand in public. I shall strive to behave myself better in future.”

  She looked embarrassed, too, and turned forward, her posture stiff and straight.

  “Please don’t apologize,” she said, still rather breathless. “You must think me terribly forward. I should have slapped your face, but I’m afraid I didn’t want to. I enjoyed both kisses too much. Oh, dear,” she said with fresh alarm, setting both hands on her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that, either. I must be more like my aunt Alice than I thought. She’s famous for speaking her mind.”

  “An excellent trait in a female, I find,” he assured her, reaching to clasp her hands in his and draw them down into her lap, where he carefully folded them one over the other. “I am entirely to blame in this matter, and that’s all there is to it.” He took up the reins again and set Enoch on his way. “For the record, however, that is the nicest thing any woman has said to me. Now, let’s put the topic aside and speak of something else. Did I ever meet you in London?”

  “W-what?” she stammered.

  “You mentioned it the other night while we were dining at Coventry, just before I threw the powder at you and made you forget. You said that I had danced with every other girl during your Seasons in London, but not with you, and that I must not have remembered you because I can’t feel your emotions. It’s feasible, of course,” he admitted, “for I do have the unfortunate tendency to depend upon my gift to take stock of those I’m in company with, but I find it impossible to believe that I could have forgotten anyone so lovely. And now, upon seeing you, I certainly would have moved heaven and earth to be introduced so that we might dance. I might not be able to feel your emotions, but my eyes function perfectly well.”

  “You wouldn’t have looked twice,” she told him, “even if we’d been introduced, which we never were. I was extremely plain. My looks have improved a great deal these past three years, but by then you were already out of society. I never blamed you for not noticing me,” she assured him with all sincerity. “I simply wondered at it, for you were always kind to dance with the girls who weren’t taking very well. Except for me.”

  “Were we in company together very often?” he asked, bewildered to have absolutely no memory of her. He could remember seeing Lady Eunice quite often in his former society days, and meeting several of her other relatives, including nieces whom he had dutifully partnered. But not Julia.

  “Oh, yes, several times,” she said warmly. “I went to every event we were invited to. My aunt and parents forced me to go in the hopes that I’d miraculously find a husband. My first three seasons were the worst. I don’t think a night went by without our attending some dinner or party or ball. And you were at many of them. Especially the balls,” she said, and sent a smile up at him. “You were so handsome and fine. Every girl wanted to dance with you.”

  Well, that was interesting to know, Niclas thought with a little swelling of pride. He’d been handsome, had he? And fine? Had she really thought so? He wished that he had been able to feel her emotions back then, for it would have been a welcome change. She would be surprised to know that what he’d mainly felt from the girls he’d danced with had been greed and guile, not admiration.

  “Did you?” he asked. “Want to dance with me?”

  She laughed. “If I tell you how much, it will puff you up, I fear.”

  “I wish we had,” he murmured. “I wish we’d been introduced. I can’t think why Lady Eunice never did so. She managed to introduce me to plenty of other female relatives.”

  “She tried, several times,” Julia said. “But it simply never happened. I don’t know why. You either moved away before she could catch your attention or excused yourself just as she was about to introduce us. Lord Gray-mar danced with me, however, at various outings. I was extremely grateful to him. He was always very kind to me.”

  It was Niclas’s turn to stiffen. “I imagine he was,” he said, though silently he was thinking what a snake his dear cousin was to have kept Julia all to himself these many years. It had probably been some dratted charm of his that had kept Niclas from being introduced to her at all those gatherings.

  “Tell me about the earl of Llew,” she asked.

  “What do you remember about him?”

  “Only that he entered the private parlor and introduced himself. He was all that a proper gentleman should be, charming and polite.”

  “Charming, aye,” Niclas muttered. “He is that.”

  “The rest is still something of a fog,” she said. “The Tarian makes it clearer as time passes, but at this moment all I can recall is being in a kind of cold dream, hearing his voice, and then yours. You told me to fight—I remember that—and I did try, but it was as if all the spirit had been stolen out of me.”

  “It’s perfectly understandable,” Niclas said reassuringly. “Such a spell can be fought, but there are very few people who could manage it. It was wrong of me to encourage you to do so, for it might have resulted in greater harm. I’m not even certain I could have done it. Morcar Cadmaran is a powerful wizard, and he possesses the ability to charm his victims into complete submission. It would have been next to impossible to disobey anything he asked or commanded once you were held in his sway.”

  “Is Lord Graymar like him, then?”

  “No one on earth is like Lord Graymar,” Niclas responded dryly. “But yes, they’re both extraordinary wizards and the heads of powerful families. Lord Graymar, however, is what we call our Dewin Mawr, and—”

  “We?” she asked.

  “Most of those who are of my kind,” he said, not quite certain how much to share. It seemed only right to explain to her, at least in part, what she’d fallen into, and it was likely safe enough. Julia might remember everything now, but Malachi would remedy that before she returned to London, just as soon as she had removed the Tarian.

  “There are ten families in Europe who possess magic,” he began, “and perhaps two dozen more scattered throughout the world. We know of five in the United States and four in Canada, but little else of the others.”

  She was clearly surprised by this, and said, “To think that ordinary people live their lives day to day never knowing that some of their acquaintances possess unknown powers. It’s quite strange, when you consider it.”

  “Very,” he agreed. “And strange, as well, to be the one who has the powers.”

  “I can readily imagine,” she said sympathetically. “But some of your kind are more powerful than others, like Lord Llew, is that not so?”

  He nodded. “My people are generally referred to as being ‘greater’ or ‘lesser,’ regardless of whether one is male or female. I am a lesser, or common, wizard, which means I have one particular gift and other limited powers. Dark-haired Seymours are almost always lessers. Greater wizards and enchantresses are much rarer, and are called dewin. Among these are the mystics, seers, and healers, all vitally important to our people. And quite separate even from these are those ver
y rare wizards or enchantresses who are called ‘extraordinary.’ Their powers are so wide and varied that it would take a great deal of time to explain them to you. My cousin Lord Graymar and Morcar Cadmaran are extraordinary wizards. Yet they are not equals. Lord Graymar is Cadmaran’s superior, and thus is the Dewin Mawr, or great sorceror. That means he is not only the head of the Seymour clan, but of those who recognize him as the head of those magical families in Europe.”

  “But not everyone among your kind recognizes him as their . . . dewin . . . ”

  “Mawr,” he said, smiling. “Dewin Mawr. No, I’m afraid not. There are those who claim the earl of Llew as their recognized leader. Cadmarans, mainly.”

  “But why?” she asked. “Do they not wish to be united with the other magical families?”

  “Cadmarans are different from all of us,” Niclas said. “They chose a more dangerous path from the beginning days of our exile.”

  “Were they exiled, too?” she asked curiously. “Like the Seymours?”

  “Aye, just the same,” he replied. “Cadmarans want to protect and increase their powers, and are willing to go to great lengths toward those goals. Seymours strive only to control the powers we possess and keep them as secret and safe from the rest of the world as possible.”

  “It’s odd to think of,” she said softly, “that so noble and lauded a family should have to strive so hard to fit into society. It explains a great deal. And it makes clear the conversation you had with the earl of Llew in Shrewsbury. About his desire to wed your lady cousin and his determination to keep me as his ‘guest’ for that purpose.”

  “Your memory is definitely returning. But what you must remember most importantly about the lord of the Cadmarans is that he is a dangerous and powerful wizard, and that he wants you as leverage for gaining what he desires. The Tarian will be your only protection from him, but he can’t take it from you unless you willingly remove it.”

  “Is he looking for us now, do you think?” she asked worriedly.

  “I don’t know,” Niclas replied, lifting a hand to touch her cheek and cause her to look up at him. “But you mustn’t give way to worry, Julia. If he or any of his men find us, we’ll face that danger when it comes. Until then, we can only do our utmost to be as guarded and careful as possible.”

  She smiled up at him. “You’re right, of course. I wish I were more practical, as you are.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You appear to be perfectly sane to me.”

  She laughed. “Practical,” she repeated. “Sanity is beyond the measure of my family members, I’ve decided. I do try to be practical,” she said more seriously, turning to face forward once more, “but it’s not easy.”

  “I hate being practical,” Niclas confessed, closing his eyes briefly as a fresh breeze caressed his face. The afternoon sunlight glittered on newly grown leaves in the trees around them, and the still damp ground smelled musty and fresh. It was altogether a lovely day, and he was very glad to be where he was and in the company of Julia, despite Cadmaran behind and the unpleasant task with Ffinian ahead. “If we didn’t have our families forcing us to be dutiful,” he murmured, “we could both consign practicality to the devil and do as we please.” Then, realizing what the words sounded like, he added, quickly, “Not that we would, of course.”

  She laughed lightly. “Please don’t worry, Mister Seymour. I understood what you meant and won’t attach any other interpretation. I’ve always thought it a great shame that gentlemen must take so much care with their words, lest they find themselves trapped into wedlock. It seems unfair not to be able to say what you wish.”

  “A gentleman should be careful,” Niclas said, “but I’ve been too long out of society to give myself that title, let alone recall precisely how I should behave. A gentleman would not have kissed you. Twice.”

  “I think you one of the finest gentlemen I’ve ever met,” she said softly. “And I’ve already told you that you needn’t consider the kisses. I liked them, and I have no intention of trapping any man into marriage, so you may rest easy on all counts.”

  Niclas felt a curious regret at the words and, more intriguing, a rise of anger. Letting out a slow breath, he said, “Any man fortunate enough to have you as his wife would be blessed, indeed, Miss Linley. I would never cease to be thankful, if that man were me. But I cannot marry. At least not until . . . but I won’t speak of that. And that is why I should not have kissed you. Twice.”

  He couldn’t see her face, nor could he feel her emotions to know what her reaction to these words was. Most women would be insulted, even wounded, but her voice, when she spoke, revealed neither of these feelings.

  “Why did you stop going out in society?” she asked. “The necklace . . . the Tarian,” she amended, pressing her fingers over the cloth that covered the object. “It seems to make me feel things that perhaps I shouldn’t.”

  Niclas’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed?” He didn’t know whether to be alarmed or not. Could she feel his emotions, now?

  “I sense something within you,” she said. “There’s sadness, and a great weariness, as if you seek rest but cannot find it. And there’s a . . . a darkness. Forgive me. I shouldn’t speak of such things. I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. “You’re quite right in what you sense.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” she said. “Things that my aunt and others have said.”

  “That I’ve been going mad? Or, worse, have already gone?”

  “I never believed them,” she assured him. “I’m glad now to know just how wrong they were.”

  “They might not be,” Niclas said. “There are times when I wonder, myself.”

  “You aren’t mad,” she said firmly. “I don’t know what the trouble is, and I won’t press you to tell me, but I do know that its source is not within your mind. It’s . . . it seems to spring from another place.”

  “It affects my mind, however,” he told her. “And the rest of me, as well, so the source isn’t particularly important. I control it as best I can, but I’m not always successful.”

  “And so you no longer go out into society,” she murmured, “and cannot wed. I understand everything now.”

  “Do you, Miss Linley?”

  “Yes.” She smiled up at him with gentle reassurance. “There’s no need for you to say anything more. I only want you to know that I’m still not sorry for the kisses. The truth of the matter is that they were my first and second, and at the age of five and twenty, I’m glad to have had them.”

  Those were her first kisses? he thought, much shocked by this. What was wrong with all the men in England?

  “That’s a dangerous thing to say,” he told her, “especially to a man whose weary mind isn’t always inclined to listen to his better instincts. Don’t you think that perhaps you should be a little afraid of me?”

  “Never,” she replied. “I know that you would not harm me, no matter the provocation. And I know, too, that you wouldn’t have kissed me if you hadn’t realized that I desired it, as well. I feel perfectly safe with you, Mister Seymour.”

  Niclas only wished he felt the same. After so much talk of kissing, he had a very strong urge to do it again.

  Julia stretched a little in the saddle, and shifted slightly.

  “Are you becoming uncomfortable?” he asked, slowing Enoch’s pace. “We can rest for a little while. It’s too early to stop for luncheon, but there’s a stream close by and I’m sure Enoch would enjoy a brief respite and the chance to drink.”

  “I—” she began, but wasn’t given the opportunity to say nay or yea.

  A sudden and raucous yelling filled the trees, sounding like a chorus of fabled Irish banshees, and they were set upon by half a dozen or more men who sprang out at them with weapons at the ready.

  “Yaaaaaah!” came a particularly loud shout, and a large, redheaded man flew at them from out of nowhere, snatching both Julia and Niclas from Enoch’s saddle and knocking them to the wet, muddy ground.

>   With a mighty shove Niclas threw their attacker off, and at the same time twisted to soften Julia’s fall. He landed on his back, and she landed directly on top of him, her shoulder digging into his stomach with all her slender weight behind it. Despite the fact that she was both small and delicate, it was enough of an impact to send his senses reeling and knock all the breath out of him.

  “Niclas!” Julia’s voice was in his ear. She was still lying atop him, though she’d turned to take his face in her gloved hands. “Niclas, open your eyes. Please, God.”

  He groaned and strove to do her bidding, as much to please her as himself. His back was on fire with pain, and his head felt as if it had landed on a rock, rather than soft muddy ground. One of his legs was yet tethered to Enoch’s stirrup, but the noble beast hadn’t bolted and dragged him away.

  There was a great deal of scuffling and noise and fearful murmuring, until he heard the voice of their attacker saying, “I’ll kill him! Damn you, Malachi, I think you broke my arm. I was only jesting. You didn’t have to throw me so far.”

  The shock of recognition brought Niclas to his senses as nothing else could have done. His eyes flew open and he tried to push himself up.

  “Not yet,” Julia murmured, pushing him back. “You’re bleeding. Give yourself a moment. It’s not Cadmaran.”

  “No,” he managed between gritted teeth. “It’s not, by gad. It’s one of my accursed cousins, and I’m disowning him for all eternity the moment I gain my feet. Help me up.” She did, but he could scarce wait to stand before shouting angrily, “Steffan!”