Lord of Legends

by Susan Krinard

She refused to consider the possibility that he might indeed be mad, no matter how much his eccentric behavior seemed to suggest it.

  Who suffers most from delusion? she asked herself. Ash, so unselfconscious and natural, or you, with your fantastic visions of mythical creatures?

  “You cannot go without clothing,” she said. “Not even here.”

  His expression might best have been described as a scowl, but it was aimed not at her but in the general direction of the cottage. Gradually his features relaxed, and he gazed at her with that dark, direct stare.

  “You are afraid,” he said.

  She laughed. “Of what?”

  “Of me.”

  “Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?”

  “If you are not afraid of me, what is it you fear?”

  “I am not afraid,” she said, “and you have no right to suggest…”

  Her words trailed off as he closed the slight space between and took her face between his hands. She was surprised at how callused his palms felt. They were not the hands of an aristocrat; it was as if he’d worked all his life.

  But she lost the thread of her thoughts as he moved closer still, his face inches from hers. His breath caressed her lips. She held herself as motionless as a rabbit between the paws of a fox, hoping against hope that he would stop. Praying that he wouldn’t.

  Her senses sprang to life as Ash gathered her close. The shadow of unacknowledged desire she had fought from their first meeting became a solid thing that cried out for acknowledgment and sang of frustrated hopes.

  Mariah closed her eyes. She could hardly feel Ash through the armor of her heavy skirts and corset, but she knew he was as moved as she. Whatever he had been before, there were some instincts he had definitely not forgotten.

  Instincts such as those that claimed her now. Sinjin had seen through her. This isn’t just natural concern on your part, he’d said. The way you look at him, speak to him…

  Almost as if he were her husband. But he wasn’t. He never would be.

  She set her palms against Ash’s chest and pushed until he released her. She nearly tripped over her skirts as she fell backward. Her breath came harsh and fast as she broke out of the wood.

  And there she stopped, her hands flexing into fists. The last thing she should do was run from Ash. He had to respect her or she would be useless as a teacher. And in order to respect her, he must know that she wouldn’t tolerate further advances from him.

  Even if she longed for them…

  “Your ladyship?”

  Nola stood just outside the cottage, staring at Mariah in puzzlement, and Mariah realized how she must look with her hair half undone and her clothing covered with twigs, last autumn’s leaves and God knew what else.

  “I’ve been walking in the woods,” she said, far more calmly than she felt.

  “Did you find Mr. Ash?” the girl asked.

  “Yes,” Mariah said. “He’ll be along presently, if you’ll just—”

  “Cor blimey!”

  Mariah didn’t have to turn to know what had prompted Nola’s outburst. “Look away, Nola,” she said. “Mr. Ash has been swimming and forgot to take his bathing costume.”

  But Nola was less than cooperative. She stared and stared with nary a blush, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar.

  Mariah marched to the door, took Nola by the shoulders and turned her about. “Sit,” she commanded, barely noticing how much the maid had already accomplished with the cottage. She found Ash’s abandoned clothing lying on his cot, and gathered up the badly creased shirt and trousers.

  She was halfway to the door when she heard a very unwelcome voice.

  “Why, Mr. Ware. I am just on the way to visit the dowager. How very…unexpected to encounter you here.”

  Pamela Westlake. Mariah froze, the air congealing in her lungs.

  “Lady Westlake,” Sinjin said in a polite, measured tone. “How well you look at such an early hour of the morning.”

  Thank God Sinjin had arrived. To judge by the casual exchange, Ash must have hidden himself just in time. But what was Pamela doing at Donbridge before six in the morning?

  “Thank you, Mr. Ware. You look very well also,” Lady Westlake said. “Have you been out riding?”

  “As you see.” The sound of footsteps and the clop of hooves on packed earth reached Mariah’s ears. “Shaitan was badly in need of a good run.”

  “Ah, yes. He seems most interested in my Queenie.”

  Mariah gripped the edge of the lopsided table.

  “Your ladyship?” Nola said behind her.

  “Hush,” Mariah whispered. “Stay where you are.”

  “Mother is an early riser,” Sinjin was saying, “but she doesn’t generally receive visitors at sunrise.”

  “But she invited me for breakfast, and she does admire those who appreciate her schedule.” A rustle of riding skirts as Lady Westlake dismounted, undoubtedly with Sinjin’s gallant assistance. “I thought I might take a turn about your lovely park for an hour before going to the house, just to make sure I arrive in time, you know. Perhaps you would care to join me?”

  “If you dare to bank on Shaitan’s good behavior.”

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt you can control him.” The muted tread of her riding boots moved closer to the cottage. “What an interesting little cottage, Mr. Ware. Do you come here often?”

  “I pass this way sometimes. It is a pleasant ride.”

  “Who lives here? One of Donnington’s groundsmen?”

  “It is currently unoccupied.”

  “Yet I could have sworn I heard voices earlier.”

  “One of the Donbridge maids is inside cleaning for a possible new tenant.”

  “Indeed?” The footsteps drew closer still. Mariah backed away from the door and signaled to Nola.

  “Quickly!” Mariah said. “Go out to meet her and help Mr. Ware get her away from the cottage.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Nola jumped up and rushed for the door. She barely made it outside in time. Mariah heard an “oomph” of surprise from Lady Westlake.

  “Oh! I beg your pardon, madam,” Nola said. “I thought I heard voices, so I—”

  “Never mind,” Pamela said sharply.

  “I’ve a bit of cider inside, your ladyship, if you’d care to—”

  “No, thank you.” Lady Westlake was clearly annoyed. Her riding crop swished against her skirt. “Go back to your work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nola reappeared in the doorway, a little breathless. “I think she’s leaving, Lady Donnington,” she said.

  “You did very well, Nola,” Mariah said. Still, she listened intently, waiting to see if Pamela’s curiosity had been satisfied. There was no more movement near the cottage.

  “Shall we go on to the house, Lady Westlake?” Sinjin asked. “I am sure my mother will not object to your arriving a little earlier than expected.”

  “A change of heart, Mr. Ware?”

  “A desire for breakfast, Lady Westlake.”

  “Then let us make haste, by all means.” Hooves shuffled as she mounted again. “And perhaps you should keep that brute away from my Queenie.”

  “Are you all right, your ladyship?” Nola asked.

  “Yes,” Mariah replied, though in fact her heart was racing. A moment later she went to the open door. Sinjin and Lady Westlake were gone.

  If Sinjin hadn’t arrived just in time…

  What if she’d seen Sinjin and me together at such an hour?

  Mariah’s thoughts whirled. Pamela had already made it clear that she believed Mariah capable of taking a lover in Donnington’s absence. Was it only coincidence that Lady Westlake had been riding near the cottage? Or had she heard rumors that led her to believe that Mariah was meeting someone here?

  Did she think that someone was Sinjin?

  The idea was despicable. In England it was considered a crime if a man had an affair with his brother’s wife. It was actual incest, unthinkable. Unthinkable to an
yone but Lady Westlake.

  Or was Mariah simply letting her imagination run wild?

  Still, whatever fancies her imagination might harbor, Mariah knew that Lady Westlake clearly suspected something. And whatever that something was, it could only be a danger to Ash.

  “Nola,” she said, “I’m going out to find Mr. Ash.”

  “Yes, your ladyship. I’ll finish up here.”

  With a nod, Mariah set off. Ash was just inside the wood and came out readily when she called.

  “Who was that female?” he asked.

  “Her name is Lady Westlake, and you must on no account allow her to see you.”

  “She is your enemy.”

  Once again Ash managed to startle her with his insight. “She is a neighbor, Ash. A neighbor with too great an interest in matters that do not concern her.”

  “You do not like her.”

  “No, I do not.”

  “She means you harm.”

  A truthful answer would certainly be of no help now. “She doesn’t like me, either.”

  “Then she is my enemy, too.”

  Oh, Ash. “All I ask is that you stay out of her way.”

  He absorbed this with a long look in the direction Pamela and Sinjin had taken.

  “She likes Ware,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “She wants to mate with him.”

  Fiery heat surged under Mariah’s skin from her face to her bosom. “How…how did you get such an idea?” she stammered.

  ASH KNEW BY THE LOOK on Mariah’s face that she was upset at what he had said, just as she had been upset by what he had done at the edge of the meadow.

  He had not been upset. He had embraced her because he knew it was what humans did to express affection and bind themselves to one other. As he must bind her to himself.

  Yet such cold reasoning had led to something dangerous. All unknowing, unaware of her own power, she had begun to cast a spell that he found more and more difficult to resist. He had wanted to feel the shape of her, the heat of her body, the softness of her mouth as she looked up into his eyes. In all his years as a unicorn, he had never experienced such emotions before.

  But he knew about mating. He was quickly learning the needs of this human body. He understood what Cairbre had meant when he warned Arion not to touch Mariah.

  “She must be pure when she comes to me.” So that Cairbre could be certain of the parentage of the Fane children he intended to sire on the woman whose human blood, mingled with that of the failing Fane race, could make his people strong again.

  But Mariah wanted Ash to touch her, in spite of her protests. He had smelled it, sensed it, felt it. He imagined mating with her, and his loins grew heavy all over again.

  What had seemed so simple when he had been locked in his cage had become far more difficult than he could have dreamed.

  “You must dress,” Mariah said, no longer waiting for his answer to her question. Her face was very red as she pointed toward the cottage.

  He went ahead of her, feeling her stare on his back as if she were stroking his body with her fingertips. Hunger nearly blinded him. He snorted and kicked angrily at the earth with his heel. She walked past him, her expression so tight that Ash almost regretted what he had done to bring her pain.

  But it was necessary. She must be won, kept near him, tied only to him until he could deliver her to Cairbre.

  He entered the cottage without speaking to her again. The younger female he had glimpsed from the wood stared at him, her eyes very round. She clutched tightly at the wooden staff in her hand.

  “Cor blimey,” she whispered.

  “Nola,” Mariah said, “if you would please turn your back…”

  While the girl called Nola did as she’d been told, Mariah thrust a bundle of clothes at Ash. Then she faced the wall while he put the garments on, even the stockings and shoes he so despised.

  “Are you finished?” Mariah asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh,” Nola said in a soft voice. “He’s that handsome.”

  Mariah half turned to face the girl. “Yes,” she said very quickly. “Ash, this is Nola.”

  Puzzled, Ash stared at the human girl. There was nothing remarkable about her—none of Mariah’s beauty nor stature, little that might demand his attention.

  Yet she did. There was something about her he couldn’t name. A sparkle in her eyes as she gazed at him, a wisdom that belied her common appearance.

  It was as if she knew what he truly was.

  Nola bobbed so that her skirts, so much simpler and darker than Merry’s, billowed out around her feet. “Good morning, sir,” she said.

  Ash glanced at Mariah. “Is she your friend?”

  “Nola is a servant at Donbridge,” Mariah said.

  “Servant?”

  “Workers who…do things for the people who employ them.”

  “Then you are my servant.”

  She made a strange noise, as if something had stuck in her throat. “I am helping you without expectation of payment. Nola is…compensated for her work.”

  “Compensated.” The word was not one he had heard before. “What does that mean?”

  “She receives money for what she does.”

  Money was a word he did remember. “The round metal things,” he said. “Coins.”

  “It’s true, Mr. Ash,” Nola said. “I work for Lady Donnington.”

  “I have no money to give you.”

  “Oh, sir, you needn’t worry about that.”

  “Indeed not,” Mariah said. She appeared eager to speak of something else and darted for the bag that lay near the door. “I’ve brought books for you, Ash. Many books which might help you to remember.” She placed the bag on a chair and stacked the books on the small round table. “These are primarily fiction,” she said, “like the story I read you before. We will begin by seeing if you remember anything about how to read and then test your ability to write.”

  Ash was far from certain what write meant. He had not even understood the word read until Mariah had demonstrated in his cell.

  If she agreed to read to him again, she would be compelled to remain close to him. And he to her.

  “Will you teach me if I cannot remember?” he asked.

  “Of course. But I am confident you will. I believe in you.”

  He felt the warmth of her regard. She believed in him. In the one who must deceive her.

  “Then I will try,” he said.

  She smiled, entirely unaware of his treacherous thoughts. “Nola,” she said, “you ought to go back to the house. You may continue cleaning early tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, your ladyship.” The girl began to gather her things, objects Ash studied carefully as she tucked them into the vessel she carried by a metal handle. “It will be no trouble at all.”

  Mariah nodded, her gaze focused on something Ash couldn’t see. “I have been thinking, Nola. It might be best if you become my personal maid.”

  Nola turned red, as humans so often seemed to do. “What about Alice, your ladyship?”

  “I’ve had certain indications that she wishes to leave my employ. I shall speak to the dowager, of course. But I alone decide whom I can hire for my own service.”

  “Thank you, your ladyship.”

  “No need. Go on back to the house. If anyone questions you, refer them to me. I’ll think of something to tell them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nola bobbed again, glanced sideways at Ash and left the cottage.

  Mariah moved to the door to watch the girl walk away, then returned to the stack of books on the table. “I must go back to the house presently,” she said. “But I informed the dowager last night that I would be out riding this morning, and I’m sure Sinjin will keep Lady Westlake occupied. There is time for a little reading.”

  Ash moved up behind her. “What is dowager?”

  She hesitated. “The dowager is Sinjin’s mother.”

  The anger moved inside Ash ag
ain. “Donnington’s mother. Vivian. You don’t want her to know about me.”

  “She might mistake you for Donnington, Ash. But Donnington has gone away, and—”

  “Why did your husband go away?”

  “I’ll…I’ll explain at another time. It isn’t important now.”

  But Merry was not telling the truth. It was important. Donnington’s mother was as much a threat to her as Lady Westlake.

  As Ash was himself.

  “What shall we read?” Mariah asked abruptly, gesturing toward the books. “Perhaps this one.” She set one book aside from the others. “Please, sit down.”

  He took one of the chairs beside the table, and she took the one across from it.

  “A rancher in Cochise County,” she began. And soon he forgot about Ware and Lady Westlake and the dowager, though his thoughts were not for the book or the words she spoke, but were focused on the soft fragrance that drifted from Mariah’s hair and the lingering scent of her desire. He lost the meaning behind the sound of her voice and heard only its beauty.

  He rose and stood behind her chair as she bent over the table. For many heartbeats she wasn’t even aware of his presence…until he leaned closer to inhale the smells that so enticed him.

  Mariah jerked and turned her head, her face only a hand’s breadth from his. Her lips parted. She breathed in his breath, and he breathed in hers.

  “I think we have done enough reading for today,” she said, closing the book and pulling her chair away from the table. She moved too swiftly for the skirts that bound her legs, and she would have fallen had Ash not caught her.

  “I’m—I’m all right,” she said, breaking free of his hold. “I must go now. You have enough food to last until we meet tomorrow.” She rushed for the door and turned. “Do nothing, Ash,” she said. “Stay indoors, for God’s sake. And keep the door closed. It will ruin all our plans if anyone sees you.”

  She was gone before he could answer. Instead he followed her to the door, watched her mount her riding beast and kick it into a run.

  Ruin all our plans. She knew nothing of his plan. But, for a time at least, their purpose would be the same. And he would become what she wanted him to be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “IT IS JUST AS I FEARED,” Sinjin said. “I’m convinced that Pamela suspects us. And I’ve no doubt that she’s reported her suspicions to my mother.”