Touch of Passion

by Susan Spencer Paul

  Loris could only imagine how the Earl of Llew had made use of his cousin. No wonder the Cadmarans were so endlessly wealthy, though none of their estates were put to use for either farming or raising cattle.

  “I don’t know you well enough to believe you,” she told him. “But, then, I don’t truly know the Cadmarans well, save from what I’ve heard—none of it good, by the way. You’re the first actual Cadmaran I’ve ever met.”

  “You’ve been fortunate, then. What you’ve heard, what you’ve been told, is all true.”

  “You speak so ill of your own family that I can’t help but wonder why. Surely they’ve treated you well, considering what you can do for them.”

  “You truly don’t know the Cadmarans if you can say such a thing,” he said bitterly. “Forgive me for speaking to you so bluntly, Miss McClendon.”

  She smiled. “I prefer it, I assure you, to what you started with. I’m growing full weary of the pretty speeches most noblemen make.”

  He smiled, too, relaxing a little. “I had heard you were rather out of the ordinary, Miss McClendon, and not merely in the way of beauty. I’m surprised that we’ve never met before now. I’m acquainted with the Tylluan Seymours. Kian and Dyfed and I used to tumble about together when we were boys, during gatherings of the Families.”

  Loris knew what it was he spoke of. Every five years the magical Families came together for a full week at one of their large estates to discuss matters of import to their kind and to make agreements and pacts. Even those clans who practiced dark magic attended. She had never gone to those gatherings that had occurred while she’d lived at Tylluan, but Kian had told her they were enormously entertaining affairs, especially for the children, who had the chance of meeting others of their kind who seldom would have crossed their paths otherwise.

  “I knew of you, of course,” Lord Brecmont went on. “Word spread about Ffinian adopting a ward from London’s … ah …”

  “Gutters,” she supplied. “Or slums. It’s perfectly true, so you may as well use the appropriate word. It’s just what I told Lady Springhill when she was having difficulty making herself plain while introducing me to an acquaintance at Almack’s.”

  Loris smiled at the memory. The vicious woman had been trying to insult her in the kindest possible way but had looked near to fainting once Loris corrected her. Malachi, who’d appeared out of nowhere, as he so often did, had been about to make a remark to Lady Springhill himself—probably far more cutting than what Loris said. Instead, he’d been obliged to choke back an unrefined fit of laughter and walk away even without excusing himself. The next day he’d sent Loris a diamond bracelet and a stunning arrangement of flowers with a note thanking her for a most entertaining evening.

  “From one of London’s less savory neighborhoods,” Viscount Brecmont supplied nobly. “But as you never left Tylluan after taking up residence there, and only Seymours visited the estate from among those in the Families, no one knew much about you. And then when I came to London and heard you were here and causing such a stir, I wished to make your acquaintance. Fortunate for me, my friend Lord Perham made the suggestion even before I could make the request.”

  Lord Brecmont hadn’t heard about the supposed unoliaeth that existed between Kian and herself or, it seemed, about the effects of the blood curse.

  “Why did you wish to speak to me alone?” Loris asked, nodding as yet another acquaintance rode past.

  “Perhaps because I was lonely and desired the company of a beautiful woman?” the viscount suggested.

  She gave a laugh. “I should think a woman connected to the Seymours would be the last female on earth you’d wish to spend time with.”

  “But you’re not a Seymour,” he told her. “And you are one of our sympathetics. The only one, as it happens, that I have yet discovered this Season. I can speak freely with you. Being among mere mortals for weeks on end, having to be so careful of what one says or does, is most wearying. And lonely as well. None of my relatives have come to Town this year—not yet, at least, as they all appear to be waiting for an announcement of great importance from the Earl of Llew.”

  Loris stiffened. “An announcement?”

  “Yes, something that will require as many as can to assemble in London, so it must be in the nature of something celebratory. Perhaps he’s found the way to lift the curse that was set upon him, and thus be rid of his blindness. I hope that’s so, for although we don’t agree on many things, I should think it a terrible thing to be blind.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, thinking of what a dangerous combination London and a large contingent of Cadmarans would be. How was it possible for them to keep mere mortals from discovering about their magic with so many of them about? The other magical Families were always careful to keep large gatherings on their own private estates, away from prying eyes. “I think so, too.”

  “And so, having been forewarned,” he went on, “I decided to come to Town at once to enjoy whatever time I could before a host of Cadmarans take up residence and force me to attend their family assemblies.”

  At that moment they were hailed by two gentlemen on horseback who were friends of Lord Brecmont’s. He politely introduced them to Loris, who endured their flattery with patience. One of them asked if she would be attending the Hamlin ball and, hearing her answer, boldly asked if she would save a dance for him.

  “I fear you’re too late, Duncan,” Lord Brecmont replied before Loris could open her mouth. “Miss McClendon’s already been spoken for for the entire evening. Perhaps you’ll have better fortune next time.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured as they drove on. “I shouldn’t wish to be rude, but between the Seymours and my grandfather, I have few opportunities to dance with others. And even when I do, I must confess that I sometimes find it tiring. I have no conversation, as you’ve discovered.”

  “I think your conversation enchanting,” Lord Brecmont said, adding, quickly, “and I’m not simply being polite. I mean it truthfully. And my motive in putting off my friends was far more selfish than noble.” He glanced at her. “I was hoping you’d save a dance for me.”

  Loris frowned. “I don’t think Malachi or Dyfed or Niclas would be very happy about it.”

  “But your grandfather would be ecstatic,” Lord Brecmont coaxed. “And I would be more than grateful. You’re very likely one of the few females in all of London who understand what it’s like to be of my kind. I can be at ease with you.”

  Loris knew what he meant. She felt like a fish out of water, too. And she realized that at some point while they’d been driving, she’d come to believe what he had told her. He wasn’t like other Cadmarans.

  “Very well,” she said. “But you must prepare yourself for the anger of the Seymour men.”

  He laughed. “I have a lifetime of experience dodging the displeasure of both Cadmarans and Seymours, Miss McClendon. I’ve become very adept at it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The beast was growing stronger. And more dangerous. Desdemona Caslin was finding the athanc harder to control, and Kian wasn’t able to bring enough animals to the clearing each night to sate the beast’s hunger. All of the livestock at Tylluan had been destroyed, and he was obliged to buy sheep from farther and farther away—having already purchased all those that were nearer—and it took more time to herd the animals to the clearing than they had the luxury of.

  The athanc was wandering across Tylluan’s borders now in search of food, ignoring Desdemona’s commands until its belly was filled and wreaking havoc on local farms.

  The farmers were understandably upset and had come to Kian to make a formal complaint.

  “We know the creature has come from here, Lord Tylluan,” Edwart Hollis said, angrily jabbing a finger in the air. “And we know that it’s you who’ve been feeding it.”

  “We don’t wish to be rude, sir,” put in Ianto Weist, “for we’ve been glad to have the luck that your kind bring us, especially with the fair folk, and we’ve always ke
pt quiet to those outside, and happy we’ve been to do it. But we want a stop to it, my lord, else we’ve no choice but to bring in the authorities.”

  “You must understand, m’lord,” said Moris ap Pugh, twisting his hat nervously in both hands, “I’ve lost all my animals, even the young ones. I’ve nothing for market and nothing to start anew with.”

  “I understand, of course,” Kian assured them. “I’m doing everything I can to rid us of the creature, and when I have I promise you’ll be repaid for what’s been destroyed. The animals will be replaced and the damaged buildings repaired. I’ll make certain that your families don’t suffer because of what you’ve lost.”

  “That’s fine as it is, my lord,” Ianto said, “but what if you can’t stop the beast? I saw it last night with my own eyes. It’s a great, wild monster, sir, and not likely to be stopped even by your magic ways.”

  “We’ve heard tell that it’s been roaming about for many weeks now, my lord,” said Edwart, “and everyone knows you’ve been buying a great many animals from both near and far. How much longer will it take before you decide there’s naught else to be done? It will roam all the way to the border if this goes on.”

  “It cannot go that far,” Kian said. “It’s tied to the lake and must return there each night.”

  Moris stepped forward, his eyes wide. “But then where’s it to find food when it’s killed all the livestock, my lord? Will it not come for us and our wives and children?”

  “No,” Kian told them, wishing he believed that himself. “I’ll not let it come to that I promise you—”

  “You cannot stop it doing as it pleases even now, my lord,” Ianto said. “And I do not think it will know the difference between a man and a beast when hunger drives it. Something must be done now, sir.”

  “Aye, it must,” Kian agreed wearily. He had been standing behind the desk in his study when the men were ushered in. Now he sat. “The beast has eaten for the past three days. It will likely eat again tonight and then rest for another three or four. Enough sheep arrived this afternoon so that I can keep the creature at Tylluan tonight. A much larger herd, coming from the south, will have arrived before the nights of rest are done, and I’ll have enough to keep the creature sated for two full weeks, at least. We’ll gain a few more days when the creature rests again. Give me three weeks to find the answer,” he said. “And if I cannot, I’ll ask the Dewin Mawr to come.”

  “And if even he cannot stop the creature, my lord?” Edwart asked.

  Kian didn’t even want to think of that possibility. The truth of the matter was that unless Professor Seabolt found the right enchantment, Malachi would be hard-pressed to do anything that would help—at least anything lasting.

  “He’s never let us down before now, has he?” Kian asked, striving to give them any comfort he could. And buy himself a little more time.

  The men exchanged looks and nodded.

  “Three weeks then,” Moris said. “And if the great dewin can’t rid us of the beast after that, we shall call the authorities for help.”

  The ball at Lord and Lady Hamlin’s was a complete success, which meant that it was terribly overcrowded, or a crush, as Julia had explained. Loris had found it to be another of the ton’s oddities that for a party to be considered successful it had to be terribly uncomfortable.

  But she truly didn’t mind so very much. Julia and Niclas were there, standing very close and touching each other constantly, as they almost always did while in public, and looking very happy. Dyfed had arrived at last, dashing and handsome and glowing with the good news that he and Professor Seabolt were getting closer to the answer to Tylluan’s troubles, which meant that they might soon be able to go home. Lord Perham, too, was in good spirits, having been very pleased by the state in which Loris and Viscount Brecmont had returned to his town house earlier in the day.

  Loris was still amazed to look back upon their drive through the park and remember how pleasant it was. Tauron—for Loris had told him that she found using titles so constantly very tiresome and had given him permission to use her Christian name as well—had told her about the part of Wales where he had been born and raised, and Loris told him of Tylluan. She asked him about the Earl of Llew, confessing a great curiosity about him specifically and about the Cadmarans in general, and Tauron was open and seemingly honest in his replies.

  He asked in turn about Kian, Dyfed, and Ffinian, whom he’d not encountered during his last visit to Town, and she told him what she could, leaving out everything about the recent troubles and his own cousin’s part in them. Tauron clearly had no idea that anything amiss was taking place in North Wales, nor was he aware of either Desdemona Caslin’s or Earl Llew’s current machinations. Of course, Loris wasn’t precisely aware what they were, either, since no one among the Seymour men believed she had a right to know.

  “You look especially lovely tonight, Loris,” Dyfed said, admiring the blue gown that had become one of Loris’s favorites. It was trimmed in white and silver and made her think of the early evening sky, just beginning to fill with stars. “I wish Kian and Father could see you now.”

  Loris wished they could, too, but didn’t say the words aloud. Instead, she asked, “But where is Lord Graymar? I thought he was promised to come tonight?”

  “He was needed elsewhere,” Niclas told her. “The family, as always.”

  Loris nodded her understanding. As the Dewin Mawr, Malachi was responsible for overseeing the safety of those who gave him allegiance. Whenever trouble arose, usually related to the danger of mere mortals discovering the powers of magic mortals, he was obliged to go. Quickly. Fortunately, Malachi had the power to travel very quickly indeed. He had arrived at Tylluan on past occasions almost before Ffinian had finished summoning him.

  “He hoped to return to Town in time to put in an appearance,” Niclas went on, leaning closer to Loris and lowering his voice. “He’s determined not to let Lord Perham outdo him in playing chaperone at functions you attend.” Niclas glanced at the Earl of Perham, who was standing not far away, conversing with their hosts.

  “The devil!” Dyfed suddenly murmured, just as the music for the last dance ended. His gaze was riveted across the room. “Look who’s here, Niclas. It’s Brecmont.”

  They all looked, and Loris saw that it was, indeed, the viscount. He was making his way toward them, his progress necessarily slowed by both the crowd and the numerous acquaintances who hailed him. Women all about him turned to watch his tall figure as he passed, and Loris couldn’t blame them in the least. He possessed the unnatural beauty that was common to magic mortals. Loris had grown used to being surrounded by such attractive beings but knew that those who hadn’t couldn’t help but be arrested. Added to that, Tauron was handsomely dressed in evening clothes that suited him perfectly. His coat was dark green, which only made the green of his eyes more pronounced.

  “Grand,” Niclas muttered. “He’s coming this way.”

  “What’s King Midas doing in Town, I wonder?” Dyfed said. “I thought Cadmaran had him locked up in Caerffill after that last incident.”

  “That was two years past,” Niclas told him. “He can’t keep the fellow imprisoned forever, can he? He requires the use of his gift too often for that. And Tauron’s not made another mistake since then.”

  “Imprisoned?” Loris repeated, frowning.

  “That doesn’t mean he’s safe enough to be let out in public,” Dyfed said.

  “He’s come to Town to look for a wife,” Julia informed them. When Dyfed and her husband looked at her as if she’d uttered something terribly shocking, she smiled and said, “That’s the gossip, at least. I keep telling you men that if you want to know what’s going on in society, you must spend more time sipping tea in the afternoons with women.”

  “Cadmarans don’t look for their own wives,” her husband said. “They certainly aren’t allowed to choose outside their own kind.”

  Julia shrugged lightly. “I only know what I heard. And all the ma
mas of available young women are thrilled. Viscount Brecmont will be fortunate to keep from being smothered by all the potential brides who’re about to be thrown at him.”

  “It won’t do any good,” Niclas insisted. “Morcar will never let his cousin wed outside the Families. Cadmarans don’t marry mere mortals, and they don’t come to London looking for potential wives or husbands.”

  Loris was far more interested in the idea that Tauron had been imprisoned … and by his own cousin no less. What had it been for? she wondered. Perhaps it had something to do with the unhappiness he had toward his own family.

  But before she could ask the questions, Tauron had arrived and was making a bow. Dyfed’s hand closed over Loris’s arm and pulled her back. Both he and Niclas moved to stand in front of her.

  “Mrs. Seymour,” the viscount greeted, smiling politely at Julia. “A pleasure to see you again, ma’am. And Niclas, Dyfed, I hope I find you well?”

  “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you,” Dyfed remarked, his voice chilly and unfriendly. “How have you been, Midas? Turned anyone into a statue, lately?”

  Loris gaped at Dyfed in surprise. She would expect such sarcasm from Kian, but not his twin. Dyfed was usually the only one in the family who managed to behave in public, no matter what the provocation. But he was gazing at Tauron with grave dislike, and Tauron, she saw, had flushed angrily at the name he’d been called.

  “Dyfed,” Niclas said in a warning tone before giving his attention to the viscount. “We are well, as you see, Brecmont. Are you in Town for very long this Season?”

  “For the remainder.” Tauron met Loris’s gaze as she stood on her toes to look over the combined shoulders blocking her way. “I intend to enjoy myself as greatly as possible before the rest of my family arrive. Hopefully that will be many weeks away.”