Enchanted by Your Kisses

by Pamela Britton

  "And what sorts of things did you learn?" He moved closer to her, far closer than the steps of the dance dictated. Ariel wanted to move away, knew she should for the sake of her reputation, but in an instant the steps sent them apart. She almost sagged to the ground in relief, the dancers around them a blur as she waited for them to come together again.

  "Well?" he prompted, when next they met. He took her hand, stepped close to her, his silver gaze intense.

  She swallowed. Gracious heavens, what this man could do to her with only a look. She forced herself to concentrate, to remember their conversation. "I learned about the parts of the body. Liver. Kidney. Heart."

  Hearts that can be broken, Ariel told herself. But her heart didn't want to listen. She felt her legs begin to tremble, felt herself stumble.

  He caught her. "Careful, my lady. It wouldn't do for you to come to any harm."

  She pulled back, mortified to realize the dance had ended and she hadn't even noticed it.

  "Ariel?" he asked when she didn't say anything in response.

  "I need a moment to catch my breath," she gasped, lurching away from him.

  His expression actually turned concerned. "Would you like something to drink?"

  She nodded, not really wanting anything, just feeling the need to be alone.

  He stared down at her a moment longer before turning away from her, reluctantly, it seemed. She watched him go, feeling the stares of people as he did so. They stared at Nathan, too, though for a different reason. Like a Greek god he moved through the crowd, his face chiseled, his bearing that of a warrior. Purposeful. Commanding. Intimidating.

  She looked down at the ground, wondering what it was that drew her to him. And would she ever have the courage to trust a man again? Somehow she feared she wouldn't. The ring he wore had caught her attention. She had stared at it. Abloodstone. There was a Greek name for the stone, too. Something that had to do with the sun, so named for the red color.

  She stiffened.

  Helio. Meaning sun. The stone was also called a heliotrope. Nathan Trevain, recently from the American colonies, wore a heliotrope.

  The spy Helios was suspected of being in England.

  "There you are," Phoebe gushed, gaining her side after shooting her a look of triumph. "Goodness, Ariel, I had to skirt the entire dance floor to reach you."

  "I need to be alone, Phoebe."

  "I—you what?" she asked, surprise etching her features.

  "I need to be alone for a second. To think. Some fresh air." She spun toward one set of three double doors allowing air to circulate through the ballroom.

  "Ariel, wait," Phoebe called, stopping her with a hand on her arm. "What is it?" A look of concern clouded her cousin's pretty eyes.

  She shook her head. How could she tell Phoebe about the horrible presentiment she'd just had? "Just give me a moment alone."

  Phoebe nodded. "Very well."

  Ariel walked away, knowing Phoebe felt hurt at being excluded. But how could she express her fear to a cousin who already disapproved of the man in question? And how farfetched was that fear? She plunged into the evening's darkness. Fresh air. Cold fresh air. She inhaled sharply, her mind clearing.

  Helios.

  Nathan Trevain wore a heliotrope.

  It seemed too much of a coincidence to ignore.

  The stone was not that rare, yet it was an uncommon stone to choose for a setting. And why had he lied to her about the kind of stone it was? For as certain as she knew he wore a bloodstone, she also knew he'd lied.

  She stopped by a fountain, which glowed a muted gray in the moonlight. Cherubs were clustered in the middle of it, water spewing from their mouths and noses. Frogs and crickets chirped nearby. She looked down at the dark water, the vague shadows of fish floating beneath the surface a focal point for her eyes.

  Was she being ridiculous? Had her mistrust of men clouded her judgment? And really, out here in the fresh air of the garden, the idea seemed far less plausible.

  "My lady," a deep voice said.

  Ariel spun, not surprised to see him standing there, suddenly not surprised at all. She looked up at him. His dark hair glistened with silver streaks, his eyes were bright even in the darkness. And as she stared up at him, her suspicion returned. He looked like a spy. Darkness and danger. Shadows and lies.

  She took a step away from him. "Mr. Trevain, there was no need to follow me."

  He looked at her as if he sensed her withdrawal. "I thought you wanted your refreshment."

  Could she tell him that she suddenly feared him? That she suspected he might be a spy? She couldn't very well ask him outright and arouse his suspicions. But there might be another way to gauge his reaction. She held out her hand to take the glass he offered her. He used the hand with the ring on it. Perfect.

  "Where did you get your bloodstone?" she asked, taking a nonchalant swallow of the drink while watching his face carefully. Punch.

  "'Tis a serpentine," he corrected.

  She shook her head. "No, for it has flecks of red. ‘Tis the iron deposits. That makes it a bloodstone."

  He was quiet for a second, his gaze in the darkness hard to gauge.

  "Where did you get it?" she repeated.

  But not by word or deed did he give himself away. "I can't remember, truth be told."

  Her hand tightened around the glass, knowing she must ask her next question, yet suddenly afraid to. "Did you know 'tis also called a heliotrope?"

  He drew back a bit, and even in the darkness she could see the expression of surprise cross his face. Well, and why wouldn't he look surprised? a voice of logic asked. Most women could barely read the Bible, and yet she could recite facts about gems.

  "No. I did not."

  "An interesting name, do you not think?" she asked nonchalantly, watching him closely. "It derives from the Greek Helios, god of the sun."

  She didn't want to believe he could be a spy. It would mean things she didn't want to face. But she couldn't mistake the way his hand twitched at the name. Couldn't mistake the way he drew back a tiny bit. Had she not been watching for such signs, she might have missed them, but not now.

  "And how do you know all this?"

  "I studied much in the country. The names of various stones and their rumored powers was one of many subjects I entertained myself with."

  Whatever he would have said to that was cut off by Phoebe's voice saying, "There you are, Ariel. Gracious, I feared I would never find you."

  And Ariel was glad, so very glad to hear her familiar trill.

  "You should not be outside," Phoebe chastised her. "'Tis far too chilly."

  It wasn't that cold, but as an excuse to leave Mr. Trevain, the weather would work perfectly. Suddenly she wanted to leave. Desperately. "Yes, it is a bit cold." She turned to Nathan, not meeting his gaze for fear he would see the accusation in her eyes. "If you will excuse us, Mr. Trevain, I should do as my cousin advises." She handed the glass back to him, trying not to stare at that ring. "Thank you for the refreshment."

  "My lady," he called as she turned away. Reluctantly she faced him again. He stared down at her with a look of concern. "Will you allow me to escort you in?"

  "I hardly think that would be appropriate, sir," Phoebe answered for her, her cousin's chin tilted in a disapproving way. "It is bad enough that you were alone for a short amount of time. If you return together, 'twill look even more incriminating. I thought your goal was to help restore Ariel's reputation, not harm it."

  And to that Nathan could say little, Ariel supposed. She held her breath as she waited for his response. But he must have realized that to anger Phoebe would not be in his best interest. "I see your point, Lady Sarrington. However, I will insist upon a dance later."

  "Perhaps," Phoebe said. "In the interim, if you will wait a moment to follow us inside."

  Nathan nodded, then met Ariel's gaze, but Ariel remained silent. As her chaperone—as ludicrous as it seemed, given Phoebe's age—her cousin was well within her righ
ts to dictate her dancing schedule. Mr. Trevain knew it, though he obviously didn't like it. Nor did he like that Ariel didn't contradict her cousin's dictum.

  "I will see you inside," he said, looking directly into her eyes.

  Ariel only nodded, shifting her gaze away. She couldn't look at him. Not now. Not with all she suspected.

  "Come, Ariel."

  She followed her cousin in without a backward glance, feeling Nathan's gaze upon her. She knew he was displeased. But she didn't care. Truth be told, she didn't care about anything but escaping.

  "You should not be alone in a garden with the man," Phoebe chastized her.

  "I know," Ariel admitted distractedly.

  "Then why did you agree to meet with him privately?"

  When Ariel looked at her cousin, Phoebe's blue eyes stared into hers earnestly, her cousin's expression more concerned than chastising. "I didn't, Phoebe. He followed me."

  She looked surprised, then displeased. "You should stay away from him, Ariel. Obviously he cannot be trusted."

  "I know."

  Phoebe looked surprised by her admission. "So you agree that your plan to appear his fiancée was ill advised?"

  Ariel didn't know what to think, she only knew that with each step, the urge to run grew more and more pronounced. "I want to leave."

  Phoebe drew back, but once she realized Ariel was serious, she turned all business. Her cousin didn't suggest they say their good-byes, she didn't offer to have a servant deliver a note of explanation. She seemed to realize that Ariel was beyond making decisions and just ushered her from the ballroom under the scathing gaze of society.

  Ariel ignored the looks, ignored the comments she could overhear, one thing on her mind. If Nathan Trevain was Helios, what did he want with her? And how would she prove it?

  5

  But the only plan she could come up with later that night had holes in it at best. Still, she thought it might work, and that alone made her consider it. Truly, it was a simple idea. She would send Nathan a note, a loosely worded note, one that would read like it'd been sent to the wrong person if he was not Helios, but one he would have to act upon if he were.

  Still, as she wrote the words late that evening, she wondered if her imagination hadn't gotten the better of her. Yet her suspicions plagued her so that she decided to have the note delivered that night. She would not sleep until she had proved he was a spy.

  Or not.

  How she hoped not. It frightened her how much she hoped.

  Why? she asked herself? Why did it matter if he was a spy or not? She didn't care for the man.

  No, she'd just begun to trust him, and trust was not something she gave easily. If he was indeed using her, she would be devastated by the discovery.

  Sanding the letter with a shaking hand, then sealing it, she rang for a servant. A maid appeared only moments later. It was still early. Ariel half wondered if Nathan might not stop by their home once he realized she and Phoebe had fled the ballroom. But it might be a while yet before he realized they had fled.

  "Give this to one of the grooms to deliver to Mr. Trevain." The maid reached for the letter. Ariel held it back. "It is important that the groom not tell the Fitzherberts' servants who he is or whom the letter is from."

  The maid looked at Ariel in a speculative way. Obviously she thought the letter contained a request for a secret tryst. If only it were that simple.

  "Aye, my lady. I'll have me brother John deliver it personally."

  Ariel nodded, handing the letter over. "And if he is not at the Fitzherberts', deliver it to him at home." Another nod. Ariel's heart pounded as the maid took the letter. If her suspicions were correct, Nathan would leave the ball quickly. Then again, he may already have left. Either way she would know by midnight.

  "I will need the carriage later tonight, too."

  The maid's expression turned to that of a fellow conspirator. "As you wish, my lady."

  She didn't wish. She would rather do just about anything than venture out alone at night, but there was no escaping the fact that she needed to do this alone. She just hoped she was wrong about the whole thing.

  Sir,

  I have the information you seek. I know, too, that you prefer not to be identified. So I ask that you meet me at the Black Swan, midnight, so that we may discuss this without fear of being recognized.

  Nathan read, then reread the note. Surprise and shock made his blood quicken as he studied the words one more time.

  That the note was meant for him there could be no doubt. And that the writer knew his true identity there could also be no doubt. In an upper corner, in letters so small as to be noticeable by only the most careful of observers, was the name Helios.

  No other name graced the parchment.

  Helios. His true identity. His jaw tightened as he thought of her ladyship. Why she'd fled he had no idea, but he meant to find out. But tonight, tonight he needed to get to the bottom of this letter.

  He studied the paper more closely. Obviously the author knew who he was. Equally obvious was that he didn't wish it to be revealed to the eyes of probing servants. Unfortunately, the note gave no indication as to whether this person was friend or foe.

  But it must be a friend, he decided a moment later, for a foe would have simply had him arrested.

  "Do you know who delivered it?" he asked the still waiting servant.

  "No, sir," the man responded, staring somewhere above his head, the servant's green livery spotless despite the lateness of the hour.

  "And it was delivered when?"

  "Sometime this evening, sir. We're not sure when."

  Nathan glanced at the clock on the mantel. For the first time since realizing Ariel had left the ballroom, he felt a modicum of calm. Perhaps this night would not be a loss after all.

  "Have the carriage brought around again."

  If the servant thought it an odd request, he concealed it well. Of course, his uncle paid them to conceal their emotions well.

  It took time to harness the vehicle, then more time to reach his destination. By the time he reached the Black Swan, it was a few minutes before midnight.

  Surprisingly enough, the inn was not at all in a bad part of town, an indication that his benefactor must not be of the lower orders. In his experience, like socialized with like. The structure was large, with paned windows that spilled light onto the street. The sign that hung above the door was shaped like a swan, the words "The Black Swan" carved into the surface painted in white. And though it was late, voices still rose and fell inside.

  Could one of those voices belong to the person who would help him find his brother? His hands clenched in anticipation. Pray God it did.

  The door was heavy, the iron handle cold. A blast of warm air hit him in the face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light. The voices dipped in volume as they assessed the newcomer, then swelled again. Not a lot of occupants, he realized, his nerves stretched taut as he waited to be recognized.

  No one came forward.

  He moved into the room. Waiting. Took a seat at a table with a well-polished sheen to its surface. Another indication of the establishment's ability to cater to the wealthy. A glance around the room confirmed his supposition. The men inside were well dressed, their appearance neat. Nathan met the eye of every one of them, yet no one nodded, no one stood up, no one spared him a second glance.

  His frustration mounted. Damn. What nonsense was this? Had the man decided not to show?

  But Ariel D'Archer had shown. She stared through Phoebe's carriage window to her left, her eyes still burning with the image of Nathan descending from the ducal carriage, anger, humiliation and unexpected hurt making it difficult to breathe.

  Fiend. Miscreant. Cad.

  Tears clouded her vision as she leaned against the black carriage squabs. "Drive on," she ordered the coachman. She'd seen all she needed to see.

  Nathan Trevain, her "friend," was none other than Helios, master spy from the colonies.

 
And on the heels of that thought came the realization that her father would have her hide.

  Used. Again. By another man.

  She wiped her eyes, forcing the tears away. She would not cry when it was her own stupidity that had landed her in such a situation. But she hadn't been ignorant, she reassured herself. Her internal warnings had gone off enough times to know something was odd about Mr. Trevain's sudden offer of help. But what made it so awful, what made it nearly unbearable to take, was that she'd started to like him. Truly, truly like him. That he wasn't the man he wanted her to think he was made Ariel's hands clench in the dark gray cloak she wore. A sickness crept into her throat. The urge to vomit on Phoebe's carriage floor was nearly overwhelming.

  Buck up, my girl. At least you've found out now.

  Found out what? she asked herself. That a man you've actually liked has turned out to be just like Archie, only worse?

  She closed her eyes and exhaled a breath. Gracious, what a fool she was. Twice. Twice she'd trusted a man only to have that trust whipped away like a dirty blanket.

  Her nails dug into the fabric of her cloak. The motion of the carriage made her upper body sway as they rounded a corner. 'Twas bad enough to have to find out Nathan Trevain was also Helios, a spy, but to know that he'd intended to use her was further humiliation. For as surely as she knew her name, she knew that it was no coincidence he had sought out the First Lord's daughter. She took a deep breath, composing herself.

  Very well, he intended to use her.

  For what? she wondered. Her father would know, she realized. Or perhaps not. Obviously he had no idea who Nathan Trevain really was. If so, she was sure he'd be apprehended. . .or imprisoned. Very well, so what should she do about it? Confront Nathan with what she'd learned? Should she unmask him? The idea filled her with a fair amount of anticipation. How she'd like to accuse him, then slap his face. No. She would stab him in the heart. No, she would shoot him.