Touch of Passion

by Susan Spencer Paul

  She screamed and writhed against her bonds until her body ached and her voice was raw. And all the while Cadmaran’s laughter filled her ears, and visions of Dyfed in the arms of another twisted through her heart. The pain became unbearable and she wept, and then, at last, exhausted, she lay still and silent.

  Cadmaran petted her hair again and said, “There, now. You’ve worn yourself out, and need to rest. I’ve prepared a special chamber for you to reside in until you’ve come to your senses and remembered who you are, and who it is you belong to. It is a dark and quiet place, my dear, where you shall be able to reflect upon your deviousness in complete peace. I feel quite certain that it won’t take long for you to repent your many sins.”

  “The beast,” she whispered. “You can’t manage it without me.”

  “I don’t mean to,” he told her. “The athanc will have free rein to do as it pleases now, and without a mistress to guide it”—he smiled widely—“I fully expect that it will.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  She was fast asleep, Kian realized as he gazed down at Loris’s still form. Deeply, wearily slumbering. He had hoped she might yet be awake, but she’d clearly gotten out of the habit of waiting for someone—for Liw—to come to her at night. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her.

  He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Malachi had delivered Kian to his town house but an hour past and informed him that they would be coming soon—Dyfed, Niclas, and Malachi himself—to discuss all that they’d discovered. There was so little time to accomplish so very much that sneaking into Lord Perham’s grand town house not only was dangerous but also could risk defeating the very reason for Kian’s presence in London.

  But he’d had to come, despite the small amount of time he had, despite the danger. He’d heard her calling him—her unoliaeth—these many nights. Across the distance her heart had reached toward him, until Kian had felt nearly maddened with a matching desire.

  The moon, shining through the tall window through which he’d come, cast light across her slumbering form.

  She was more beautiful than his memories had told him. Her hair had been cut, but to delightful effect. The gold in her tresses glowed beneath the moonlight, causing the soft mass of curls that fell loose about her shoulders to look like satin. Slowly, silently, he bent and took one gleaming curl between two fingers, rubbing. It was cool and soft and light—so much lighter than it had been at Tylluan. All of her was lighter. She had lost weight in London, he realized with a pang of guilt, and looked so much more delicate than she had only weeks earlier. And fragile.

  She’d been unhappy, Malachi had said. And distressed, torn between what the Seymours and her grandfather wanted. Not certain what she wanted. And on top of all that was Kian’s deception at Tylluan and the loss of someone who was dear to her. And what they had shared in her bed.

  Aye, she needed rest. A few hours of peace and respite without being asked to do anything, for anyone. If Kian woke her he would send all her peace flying away. He’d do everything in his power to hold her, kiss her, even for the few brief moments the curse allowed.

  But he wouldn’t wake her. Rather, he would give her something to comfort and soothe, to make her slumbers far sweeter. He had done it before, when he had put her to sleep as Liw, though she’d never realized it.

  Slowly, Kian lay beside her on the bed and, propping himself upon one elbow, gazed at Loris’s face intently. He closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking of what she would wish to do more than anything in the world. Where she would wish to be. With tender care he wove a beautiful dream, and made a gift of it to her.

  “Draceous Caslin,” the Earl of Graymar said some time later as he settled more comfortably into his chair near the fire, “is the son of Darin Caslin, whom my father told me about some years before his death. We have never been in much communication with any of the Families outside Europe, but my father had had some dealings with Darin Caslin in the way of correspondence regarding a proposed business venture. It seems that Caslin wished to engage our ships for his importing and exporting business.”

  Here the earl paused to sip from the wine in his glass and look at the others assembled.

  “The Caslin family,” he went on, “made itself wealthy as traders, starting almost from the moment when the colonies were birthed. You can imagine the success they had in dealing with the natives, using their powers to at once defend themselves as well as to impress any who dared confront them. But that’s neither here nor there,” he said dismissively, waving his glass about. “The main point is that my father was never able to put aside his displeasure with the colonies for their act of disloyalty in desiring independence, and couldn’t bring himself to agree to the bargain, despite the money it would have brought into the Seymour coffers. His brother, our uncle Declan, died at Camden, you know.”

  “And that was the last communication we know of between the two families,” Niclas added. “How it is that Lord Llew came to be in contact with them is a mystery.”

  “However Cadmaran managed to establish relations,” Dyfed put in, looking at his brother, “he was able to lure Caslin to Europe with the promise of a great deal of money. You’ll recall that Desdemona told me of it when I spoke with her.”

  “Which is the part of the tale that I find particularly odd,” Malachi said. “When my father was in correspondence with Darin Caslin he was given to understand that they were among the oldest and most prominent families in Boston. Extremely wealthy and seeking to increase that wealth.”

  “Gaining wealth has never been a problem for our kind,” Kian murmured, gazing into the fire. “And neither has losing it. Only think of one of our own families here, the Theriots. Money pours through their fingers like water, and ever has.”

  They all nodded and murmured and drank from their glasses.

  “But how is it that Draceous Caslin knows the ancient enchantment to bring an athanc in Wales back to life?” Kian asked. “Can they have such creatures in America?”

  “Professor Seabolt says that these beasts wandered unrestrained all about the earth in the long-forgotten times,” Dyfed said. “And even when our Families came here during the time of exile, they did not know immediately how to tether them. It took many years of trying different spells before the correct one was at last found. Once the beasts were put into slumber, it was assumed that no one would ever wish to rouse them again, for even the most evil among our forebears were afraid of the creatures and the destruction they wrought.”

  “So they failed to keep a good record of how to control the monsters,” Kian said. “And generations thereafter didn’t record the enchantments because the original remedies had been so poorly kept. Which was utterly foolish, considering how spells for other troubles were so carefully guarded.”

  “ ’Struth,” Niclas agreed. “We’ve had far greater fortune in finding spells for repairing broken axes and causing arrows to multiply during battle than in getting rid of great beasts. But you mustn’t lose heart, Kian. Professor Seabolt feels certain that having at last discovered the remedy for dragons and sea serpents, we’re nearing the right manuscript that will give us the answer.”

  Kian sighed and turned to look out at the dimly lit room, his gaze wandering over the fading paint and shabby furnishings. This was the town home he had inherited from his father, only just fashionable enough to be acceptable for a member of the ton, but far, far away from what Loris had experienced at either Niclas and Julia’s home or Lord Perham’s palatial dwelling. Loris had been here before, ten years earlier, when Malachi and Dyfed had brought her out of the Red Fox, but Kian doubted she remembered it much. She’d been in such a state of fear, then, and everything had happened so quickly. They’d only remained in London long enough for his wounds to heal sufficiently for them to travel back to Wales, and, given Malachi’s gifts as a healer, that hadn’t been long.

  Since that time, as before, it had served well enough as a home for three bachelors making br
ief visits to Town, but it wasn’t anything near being suitable for a new bride. Dyfed hadn’t even stayed in the place during this latest visit but had gone to stay with Malachi at Mervaille.

  Mervaille would have been a pleasant dwelling to take her once they were wed, and Malachi would have enjoyed having Loris’s company after Kian returned to Tylluan. Unfortunately, neither he nor Loris could pass Mervaille’s gates, for no one who was cursed could enter the ancient Seymour dwellings. It was forbidden.

  He would have to bring Loris here and pray that she might be able to work the same magic upon the place as she had done with Tylluan. She’d certainly have plenty of time to do so, once he’d returned to Wales.

  A scratch fell on the door, and the next moment Abercraf, Niclas’s own manservant, peered into the room. He and his wife, Jane, had been lent to Kian for the next few days.

  “Everything has been made ready, my lord,” Abercraf announced. “Shall I lay out your morning attire?”

  “Thank you, Abercraf,” Kian said. “You and Jane have already been awake far too long, making the house ready on such short notice. I’m deeply grateful. Go and seek your beds, and I shall be content to valet myself.”

  Abercraf’s expression tightened. “That will not be necessary, my lord. You will find me ready to assist you whenever you require it.” And then he departed.

  Niclas laughed lightly. “Now you’ve insulted him,” he said. “Abercraf has such tender feelings, you know. But you make an excellent observation, Cousin. It is late, or, rather, early, and we should all leave you in peace so that you have at least a few hours’ rest before your meeting with Lord Perham.”

  They rose to depart. Malachi sent Niclas and Dyfed ahead so that he might speak with Kian alone.

  “You know that I’ll come to Perham’s with you, if you wish,” he said, his tone serious.

  Kian regarded his older cousin closely. “I know, Malachi,” he said. “I’m not afraid of the fellow. Loris has always been mine. I don’t intend to let anyone take her from me. She alone has the power to bid me yes or no.”

  “All the same,” Lord Graymar said, “speak with care. He’s not one of our sympathetics. Yet.”

  “He will be,” Kian said. “It will make Loris happy, and so he must be brought around to it.”

  “You don’t know how stubborn Perham can be,” Malachi warned. “You haven’t met him yet.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Kian confessed, “but he can’t be any more frightening than dealing with the Dewin Mawr. If I’ve been able to survive your fury, Malachi, I can survive anything.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Earl of Perham received Kian’s early morning visit with ill-disguised displeasure. Having been ushered into that man’s study, Kian at last had some idea of what it must be like to be the person sitting on the other side of his desk when he was in a foul mood.

  “I had thought you to be in Wales, Lord Tylluan,” said His Lordship as Kian approached. “We had no warning of your coming. Loris said nothing of it to me, nor any of your kin.”

  “I scarce knew that I would be coming to London, myself, sir,” Kian replied honestly. “The decision was made on very short notice.”

  “I see,” the earl said, his tone filled with disapproval. “I confess to being surprised at your boldness in coming to visit me. You do not intend to see Loris while you’re here, I assume.”

  Kian regarded the other man steadily, trying to see any resemblance between him and Loris. The eyes were the same, but there was precious little else of a physical nature. Still, there was something about the older man’s bearing and blunt manner that put Kian in mind of Loris. Especially when she was displeased.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lord, and I don’t wish to appear ill-mannered, but I do indeed intend to see her. Whether you allow it—though I hope you will—or not.”

  Lord Perham looked mildly surprised but recovered quickly.

  “I cannot think it wise, sir. Though I know you’ve been as a brother to her these many years, and despite the gratitude I feel for what your family has done for my granddaughter, I’m sure it’s been made known to you that the Seymour connection has had an unfortunate effect on her reputation. A reputation, sir, which cannot bear much more strain.”

  “Speaking as someone whose reputation has been through the fire more than once and still come out intact, if not enhanced, my lord,” said Kian, “I respectfully disagree. But the fact that your granddaughter’s standing in society seems, to you, to be rather frail is partly why I’ve come. Also because I’ve been given to understand that Loris has been distressed, and I cannot allow that to continue.”

  Lord Perham’s eyebrows snapped downward. “You cannot allow—”

  “Because I love her,” Kian went on. “And have loved her for many years. My twin, Dyfed, has been as Loris’s brother. I have not. To be quite honest, I’m not certain what I have been, save a thorn in her side, but we have never been as mere siblings to each other.”

  Lord Perham frowned at Kian—rather glared—and said, “Then you are the one that your brother meant—before a crowd of onlookers, no less—when he stated that Loris is spoken for.”

  Kian nodded. “I am, sir.”

  “But Loris herself has said nothing to me of this. Indeed, she has scarce mentioned you at all, Lord Tylluan.”

  Kian wasn’t surprised. What could she have told her grandfather about him that wouldn’t have been alarming? She could scarce tell Perham about the unoliaeth or the curse or their constant arguing. Still, the knowledge hurt a little. Perhaps more than a little.

  “Although,” Lord Perham went on more thoughtfully, “there have been moments when she’s made mention of you in passing. Rather oddly, I must say. I have wondered at it.”

  “Oddly, sir?” Kian repeated. “In what way?”

  “Almost as if she’s not aware of it,” Lord Perham explained. “She said your name when she meant something else and, when asked what she meant, couldn’t remember the mistake. One afternoon not long ago she remarked on how beautiful her Kian at Tylluan was. She had meant to say ‘garden’ and hadn’t realized she’d said your name instead. We had a good laugh over the mistake. I didn’t tell her of the other times she’d made the same slip. I didn’t think it necessary, and put it down to the strain of her first Season, and of being in London again after so many years.” Lord Perham shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I suppose you’ll think it strengthens your case, but I have no intention of letting you, or any Seymour, take Loris away from me.”

  “I understand precisely how you feel, my lord,” Kian told him. “For I don’t intend to let her be taken from me, either. And because I love her, I’ve no desire to take her away from anyone. Certainly not a grandfather whom she loves very much. But what we wish is really neither here nor there, is it, my lord? Should we not discover what Loris wants?”

  Loris’s eyes drifted open to find that daylight was already streaming through the window curtains. The morning, she realized with alarm, must be nearly gone, and her grandfather must have been obliged to take his breakfast without her.

  She’d had a wonderful night’s sleep, such as she’d not had since coming to London, and the weariness that had shadowed her for so many days was gone. And her dreams … she could scarce remember having pleasanter ones. Kian had been with her again, and all the loneliness and longing that she’d suffered since leaving Tylluan had vanished. He’d touched her and there’d been no pain. His arms had come about her and his lips had caressed her own, and there had been no stinging or burning. Only blissful pleasure, as she’d shared with him once before. Loris sighed happily just thinking of it.

  And then she turned her head and saw the flower lying on the pillow beside her.

  “What’s this?” she murmured, pushing onto one elbow and picking the flower up. It was a rose, from one of the bushes in her grandfather’s gardens. And—she looked at it more closely—there were a few long, light blond stra
nds of hair clinging to it.

  The bedchamber door opened and Elen entered, carefully balancing a large tray.

  “Oh, miss, you’re awake at last!” the girl said excitedly, and set the tray on a nearby table. “I’ve brought you some breakfast, for I knew you’d wish to get dressed right away and make yourself ready.”

  Loris pushed into a sitting position. “What’s happened, Elen?”

  The servant’s face was glowing with pleasure as she neared the bed. “He’s come, Miss Loris. The master. He’s below, talking with His Lordship, the earl.”

  Loris felt as if all the breath had been forced out of her body by a mighty blow. “Kian?” she whispered faintly. “He’s come? He’s here?”

  Elen nodded. “Yes! And looking so fine, miss, dressed like a real gentleman. Just like Lord Graymar.”

  Loris wasn’t paying attention. She had just remembered what the girl had said.

  “He’s with my grandfather, Elen?” she asked. “Alone?”

  Again, Elen nodded.

  “Oh dear,” Loris said, and threw the bedcovers aside. “I’ll forgo breakfast this morning, Elen. Help me get dressed. We have to hurry.”

  “What Loris wants?” Lord Perham repeated. “This is the second time in as many days that a Seymour has proposed letting a young female of birth and fortune decide what she wants. What the devil is the matter with you people? Have you no sense at all?”

  Kian settled back in his chair more comfortably. “I often wonder the same thing,” he said. “But surely you’ve realized that Loris isn’t like other young women of the ton. She will strive mightily to please you, because she loves you, but if you try to force her to your will you may lose her altogether. Because she knows that Tylluan belongs to her and that its doors are open to her at any time. And that if she calls to me, I’ll come to her. You could try to control her by locking her away on one of your vast estates, but it would do no good, my lord. I would be able to find and free her, and take her home.” He tented the tips of his fingers together and gazed at the other man directly. “What you must decide, my lord, is whether you wish to lose your granddaughter just as you lost your daughter.”