by Tara Gill
Having been told more than once that she was pretty, Mia supposed that Fanny could be right. Beauty wasn’t of much use to her though; in fact, it could be a nuisance.
Like right now.
She stared fixedly at the faded grey and pink upholstered Victorian sofa opposite to her trying to decide what to say next–perhaps a polite comment on the weather?
“Is it a hardship to look at me, my lady?” Lord Barghurr’s voice was a low-pitched growl.
Goosebumps broke out on her skin and Mia glanced up, startled. Lord Barghurr spoke with a subtle accent and along with the tenor of his voice, the exotic way he pronounced English was most attractive to the ear. If he read out of a book, to be sure Mia would listen even if it was the most atrociously boring subject ever.
“P…perhaps a little,” Mia managed. Surely, he knew how discombobulating his appearance was? Was it any wonder she struggled to meet his gaze?
The fierce, leonine eyes focused on her to the exclusion of everything else. They appeared eager, the lion’s head straining in her direction. “Your father mentioned that you had led a sheltered life in the country until very recently, with only your governess for company?”
Mia dared a fleeting glance at the glowing eyes that studied her avidly, gulped and cast her eyes to her lap. “Erm, that is true, My Lord. It is only for the past few months that we reside in London in order that I can participate in the Season. Indeed,” she faltered, “I was quite surprised when Mama mentioned that we’d met at a ball. Please forgive me, but I do not recall it. Perhaps you mistook me for someone else?”
Lord Barghurr stood. Towering over her, stance wide apart, he displayed an eye-catching silhouette. Unlike fashionable dandies, his shoulders were broad, thighs muscled, jaw firm and cheekbones chiselled. A bored Mia had once read a scientific journal where they studied the lives of primates and wolves in the wild. It said the most powerful male in the group fought deadly battles in order to claim the position of leader of the pack. Hence, he was called the ‘alpha male’. Lord Barghurr somehow brought that to mind. In any gathering of men, he would be the alpha male. He radiated power, and something else—an aura that made her breath hitch and her belly heat. Unconsciously, she pressed a palm to her lower abdomen.
His gaze followed her movement. After a sharp-eyed glance at her face, he started to pace the faded Aubusson carpet, hands clenching and unclenching. The dull morning light fell on him highlighting his tanned skin, the firm chin, the full, almost cruel lips.
Not bothering to answer her question—which only deepened her certainty that they had never met before—he began, “I understand it might come as a surprise that a stranger might want to pay his addresses to you. However, I am no stranger to your father. We have been acquainted for many years, and I have been a financial patron for his scientific excursions to the Far East. Your father believes that humans will only benefit from knowing more of the other species that call this Plane home and I agree.”
He paused for a moment, deep in thought and then turned to face her, “To tell the truth, I did not know until very recently that he had a daughter. Mr. Gray had not mentioned it.”
Mia’s small fingers clenched, nails digging into her palms, but she remained silent. It hurt, but not many acquaintances of her parents knew they had a daughter. It was not that they hid her, rather they seemed to forget her very existence—other subjects commanded their attention. Once this had hurt Mia, and she had raged and cried, but it did not have the power to hurt anymore. Still what Lord Barghurr said rankled, not because of her old hurt, but because he would know how little she was valued here, in her own home. For some reason, she couldn’t bear for this magnificent man—powerful, rich, titled and in the prime of his life—to pity her.
Her expression did not betray her, she was sure, but his heavy eyebrows met in a frown. “I have wounded your feelings.”
“I beg your pardon, My Lord. My feelings have nothing to do with it. Please continue what you were saying,” Mia managed.
Still frowning thoughtfully, he glanced around the shabby, lifeless room, decorated in shades of ash, not very suitable or indeed cheering for a young woman. “I know not what style of life you were used to in the country. But as your mother mentioned, I have a vast estate and am quite able to provide for a family. As my m…wife, you would be respected, admired and empowered to follow your interests, whatever they may be. You would also be free to choose your family. Sometimes the one you are born into…may contain the people that least matter.” His voice lowered when he spoke the last sentence.
Mia flushed. He was insightful. Perhaps that quality came with a lot of life experience, which she did not doubt he possessed. The way he carried himself screamed of competence and self-assurance, even menace. But still, she couldn’t bear to think of him feeling sorry for her. Empathy she could deal with, but not pity.
“I assure you, Lord Barghurr—”
“Call me Barghurr,” he interrupted.
Her cheeks became pinker. “That would be improper.”
“Who cares?!” As her expression turned shocked, he swore under his breath.
Mia inspected her satin-clad toes and shifted in her seat, unsettled. She wasn’t used to the lack of etiquette that Lord Barghurr was displaying.
Barghurr seemed to sense this and sighed. Facing her he said, “Miss. Gray, I will be frank. As you may know, I am from another Plane. In many ways, life in Other Planes is far more advanced compared to the Earth Plane at this time. Females especially enjoy a lot of freedom in the Planes—for example, women help to decide who rule them; many a time that person is a woman herself. Ladies perform many crucial roles in society—such as being a medic or fighting in the armed forces or owning and running their own business.”
Women in the army? A female doctor?
Mia’s eyes widened. He must surely be joking. Still, she was curious to know more. “Your Plane sounds fascinating, if indeed what you say is true. Personally, I find it difficult to imagine.”
Barghurr cocked his head. A whiskey-coloured lock of hair fell to the side of his face and the lion’s eyes gleamed at her. His powdered hair was tied in a ponytail behind him and seemed to be his own hair and not a wig. “You can believe me. In a few weeks I can show you the truth of my words. Forgive me if I am impatient with the restrictions of your society. I am an abrupt man, and this is one reason I prefer not to mingle with the nobility—my manners, I am told are atrocious. However, I respect women far too much to waste their time, along with mine.”
“Of course, I understand,” Mia murmured, trying to be polite even though her mind was racing. “Umm… you have a medically trained doctor in your Plane who is a woman. Are you sure she is not a quack?”
Barghurr assessed Mia’s expression, and his mouth curved, a slash of white teeth against chiselled, handsome bones. It was the first time his proud expression had lightened. Mia’s eyes ran over his visage, intrigued. His smile transformed his face, displaying laugh lines at the corner of wide, golden-brown eyes.
The lion caught her gaze and bored into her. She tried to ignore the lion chimera and focus on his human face, but it was difficult as she felt the glare of being the focus of the beast’s stare. It was unnerving. In the end, she glanced away, unable to hold his stare.
His voice was warmer when he spoke. “Last month I had a broken bone set by such a doctor. Her name is Mistress Faheme and she is a fully trained medic.”
“A broken bone set last month now healed.” Mia repeated in tones of disbelief and ran her gaze over his body. Maybe the bone was a small one, such as his toe or finger. Anything larger would visibly affect his ease of movement, and Barghurr currently moved with an easy grace.
In fact, he paced like a silent predator, every part of his body shifting in unison so that each step, each turn appeared part of a choreographed dance. His head cocked as he studied her, shrewd eye seeming to ascertain her every reaction—the minute movement of her lungs, the drop of perspiration at her e
ar, the dampness of her palm, the way her toes curled in her satin shoes. His gaze seemed to rest an extra second on the rise of her bosom, the delicate lines of her neck, the pulse evident there and he touched the tip of his tongue to his lip.
Mia’s skin heated. Being the object of his complete focus did something to her. She inhaled raggedly, wondered what was wrong with her. Barghurr took a quick step towards her but stopped short. His nostrils flared and both pairs of eyes—human and leonine—glowed brighter. Mia’s breath hitched.
“I heal faster. We have different procedures for healing, ones proven to be more effective than the methods on Earth.” His voice was husky as he stalked her. His movements seemed different, loose-hipped and his lashes dropped, shielding his expression from her.
At the switch in the way he moved and looked at her, Mia began to feel flustered. She hunched into herself, wishing Fanny were by her side.
“Truly?” she murmured, just to keep the conversation up.
“If you are interested, you can learn more when you visit my home. Perhaps, once we spend some time together, I can convince you that we are well-matched.” He drew closer.
Ah! Here they came to the crux of the matter. But surely there was a reason why someone like him—handsome, rich, reputed—would be offering for a nobody like her? Especially when they were strangers—and there were so many socialites and debutantes, many of them more beautiful than Mia and heiresses to boot—who would give their left arm to have this chance.
“My Lord, you never mentioned why you would want to offer for me in particular, out of all the other ladies of your acquaintance?” Mia stammered, with a quick peep at him. She still didn’t know where he had seen her. She didn’t believe that tale of meeting him at Lady Farley’s ball for an instant.
His large feet shod in shiny Hessians stepped closer. “Suffice it to say Miss. Gray, I have reason to think we would make an excellent match. I would show you why, but I don’t think you’re ready for it yet…” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, seeming both menacing and intimate. He paused a few inches before her, so close that the hem of her muslin gown touched his expensive black boots.
Mia moved her feet back, nearly panting by now, as her senses warned of impending peril. With round eyes, she peered up to see that the lion face was close—it stretched towards her as if eager for her.
A shiver ran through her body, and she fisted a small hand on her gown, trying to resist the call of the lion. She cleared her throat. Building up her courage, she asked, in a small voice, “Is that normal?”
“What are you referring to?” Barghurr’s words was clipped. His body was tense, as if he was fighting some intense emotion. His fists were clenched, and he appeared to be having trouble swallowing. At his proximity, Mia became aware of his perfume—it was not of snuff or powder or Cologne water, but something musky and very strong. Whatever it was, it was wonderful, and Mia inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling dizzy and hot.
“The illusion that overlays your face. Is that the appearance of everyone from the Other Planes?” Mia asked, timid eyes fluttering to meet his hypnotic gaze. She hadn’t met anyone from the Other Planes, so she couldn’t be sure. While worried about insulting him, Mia decided she had to know the answer behind his appearance.
She trusted Barghurr would answer her honestly even if the answer were unusual. Thus far, he had been candid, if a bit impatient. “Papa and Mama don’t seem to have noticed. So maybe only a few can see him?” she added.
Barghurr stilled, and his gaze turned penetrating. “What do you see when you look at my countenance?” He sounded odd.
Good Lord. Maybe she was going crazy. She glanced up through her lashes—no, she could still see the beast. The massive lion head was quite close to her, and his burning gaze was roving over her eyes, her lips, her figure. In fact, even Lord Barghurr was at a touchable distance. She noticed that he had very large hands with small golden hairs all over the backs of his fingers that were now reaching out to her.
“You can tell me. I will not share your confidences with anyone else.” He seemed sincere and to be trying to reassure her.
With difficulty, Mia said, “I see a lion’s face. Like a moving image on top of yours.”
Barghurr swallowed and said in a thick voice, “And what is the lion doing?”
Looking up at both pairs of eyes now drilling into her, Mia whispered, “He is trying to get closer to me.”
“And now?” He shifted an imperceptible inch closer, his voice throaty and low-pitched.
Mia felt quite unlike herself. His heady fragrance was rather strong at close quarters—it was hardly unpleasant, but it made her unable to think clearly. Powerful hands clutched at her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. They felt so good on her heated skin. Mia sighed.
This is all very improper, she thought feeling heated and dazed.
Are those pricks on my skin?
A warm, tingly sensation against my cheek. Mm, feels so good. She closed her eyes in instinctive pleasure.
“Now the lion is nuzzling me, I think,” she murmured, shaking a bit. It was nuzzling her. The lion’s mane rubbed against her face, and Mia felt touched down to her soul. Something strange was happening to her. She had grown accustomed to being alone, self-contained; even common animals like dogs and horses eschewed her. But the lion’s touch spoke of unconditional affection—a touch unlike any she had ever felt in her entire life.
For no reason, tears blinded her eyes. In a haze, she lifted a tentative hand to touch that mane. She stroked him even though she couldn’t really feel the fur beyond a mild prickling of energy that felt indescribably good. The lion’s eyes closed, and he purred—Mia could sense the vibration. He nuzzled his way down to her naked throat. She felt hot breath at the side of her neck.
Are those teeth at my neck?
Someone knocked, and Lord Barghurr leaped clear across the room.
Mia startled and gaped at him, her chest moving in quick pants, face flushed. She swallowed at the sight she saw. Barghurr was breathing rapidly, his unusually sharp teeth bared, and his hungry eyes locked on her. His lion chimera flashed over his visage and growled, straining to come to her.
“I…is something wrong, My Lord?” Disoriented, Mia leaned on the arm of her ebony chair, a small hand to her breast and licked her dry lips.
“Mia…” Hands clenched, he leaned towards her as if he would come to her again.
The wide doors opened to reveal the butler, Wilkins, who bowed. “The master requests your presence in the study, if you please, My Lord.”
Swaying on her feet, Mia watched as with a burning glance at her, Lord Barghurr left the room.
Chapter 3
After Barghurr left, Mia went upstairs to find Fanny waiting in her room. Fanny was Mia’s former governess and current female companion. A homely and pragmatic girl, she was in her twenty-seven compared to Mia’s nineteen.
If Mia could call anyone a friend, it was Fanny who had heard all about Mia’s mysterious caller through the network of gossiping servants. After one look at a shaken and pale Mia, Fanny called for a restorative.
Mia lay on a chaise in the small bedchamber, gazing unseeingly at walls covered in paper-hangings of a depressing brown. A cup of tea steamed at the small table by her side along with a plate of biscuits, which she ignored, unsettled as she was by what she had witnessed.
“Well, he certainly sounds an odd duck,” said Fanny, fanning herself. Her wispy brown hair moved in the artificial wind created by the movement of the fan, against ruddy skin flushed with her exertion. In her unremarkable russet gown and cap, she appeared the unexceptionable spinster in the late-twenties that she was. “Most Other people are, you know.”
“Do you know something about the Others, Fanny? I wish you’d tell me then.” Mia felt unnerved by this morning’s experiences, not just by her visitor but also the uncharacteristic way she had behaved. She’d stroked a man she had met for the first time today and let him… nuzzle her! That too
one of the Others!
Besides, it was probably a good idea to find out more information about Barghurr.
“Just that they know magic,” said Fanny grandly, like the announcer in the theatre. While Mia was book smart, Fanny was street smart. She managed to get all sorts of information from tradesmen, servants and from her large family with whom she maintained a regular correspondence. It was quite possible Fanny might know some of the gossip about the Others.
“Yes, magic that they hold secret and do not share. I know that. What else?” Mia implored.
“Only that there are many Planes and in them live many species who have a human form, but also another. Those with a fey eye may be able to sight a clue of their other form. The Others live long and are appallingly wealthy—not that they seem to value wealth overmuch. Their worlds are advanced not only owing to magic, but also due to science. They certainly consider us to be backward. Earth is not a popular Plane, and visitors from other places seem to prefer open jungles—locales with less humans about. I heard one of them even called humans filthy and the City full of stench! It offended many but was hushed up with some inane explanation.”
Well, as Mia herself found certain areas of the City atrociously foul, she couldn’t help but secretly agree with those Others.
“They also have exceptionally strong senses. They can perceive when you lie, believe it or not, and it makes them very angry when you do.”
Mia’s thoughts wandered as she restlessly rubbed her temples. Fanny took over and dabbed her temples with lavender water, muttering to herself in a low voice. Mia let her take care of her as her thoughts wandered.
She could believe what Fanny said about the Others’ senses—Barghurr had seemed to gauge her state of mind with frightening accuracy. She lifted her wrist to her nose and sniffed, wondered if Barghurr had found her filthy or reeking. Unlike many in Society, Mia bathed daily much to the shock of their servants. They had eventually accepted it as an eccentric habit of a child given an unusual amount of freedom by her parents. Tom, her childhood friend who’d planned to become a doctor before things went awry, had encouraged Mia’s habit and suggested she use lemon soap to keep herself fresh. So, Mia always smelled of lemon.
