“Thank you, Dyllis. You can go,” Adelaide said, her brows drawn in concern. Once the maid had gone, she turned to him and said, “I believe he will rally, Eldren. He’s young and despite his vices, in good health otherwise. I think the most important thing we can do, at this point, is insure that Frances does not have unfettered access to him. I hadn’t considered the implications of it until she made the statement at dinner tonight that her child will be your heir.”
“Assuming that child is actually Warren’s,” he replied.
Her eyes were wide, her gaze revealing the fears that had blossomed within her. “But what if Warren isn’t here to question it? What if we aren’t? What if all this is some elaborate scheme for her to be able to lay claim to Cysgod Lys and all of your holdings through the birth of a child who may or may not be of Llewellyn blood?”
Eldren settled himself on the edge of the bed and allowed the enormity of that to sink in. It was conjecture and something that they had no proof of, but it was not so very far fetched. He’d made it known to one and all that he’d never had any intent to marry and produce an heir. But when his situation changed, Frances had done everything possible to prevent the marriage. She and Warren had been wed for almost seven years and now, when there was a risk of her losing unfettered access to the house and the attached wealth, she had suddenly found herself with child.
It was a wonder with what she had put Adelaide through during her initial journey to Cysgod Lys that Adelaide had survived, much less consented to the marriage and remained as mistress of the estate. And the house, despite it’s eccentricities and the terror that it could induce, had never caused him physical harm, not until he’d married. Heaven knew that whatever was there had attempted time and again to frighten Adelaide away or even cause a more permanent form of absence.
“You may be right. Adelaide, Frances may well be trying to kill him… and us.”
“With the help of the forces at work in this house,” she finished. “My question is how? Is Frances some sort of mystic herself? Or something worse?”
“A witch?” he asked. He felt ridiculous even uttering the word. “You think she might be dabbling in dark arts?”
“If she’s doing anything, it’s significantly more than dabbling. Frances is fully committed to her scheme, whatever it may be.”
Eldren sighed heavily. “We’ll need to find the truth, and whether I believe in Madame Leola’s abilities or not, I have to admit that her description of Frances was impossibly accurate. But I don’t want to talk about Francs, or Warren, or Madame Leola tonight.”
“What do you want to discuss?” she asked.
“I want to revisit a conversation we had on the beach earlier in the week… About making love to you and making you my wife in every way.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Tonight? After all that’s occurred, that is what you want to discuss?”
“I can’t think of a better time,” he said and reached for her hand. He tugged her close until she was standing between his knees. He could smell the soft, light scent of her perfume and see the satiny texture of her skin. Had he ever desired a woman more in his life? No. He hadn’t. And weeks of touching her, of listening to the soft cries of her passion and feeling the shuddering release as she succumbed to pleasure, his desire for her had only intensified. It wasn’t as if their encounters had been one sided. She had learned how to bring him pleasure, as well, and had done so time and again. But it wasn’t the same. The idea of feeling her heated flesh closing around him, of sharing that moment of completion in the most intimate way possible, that was what he longed for and it was what she had wanted as well. He would finally be able to give her that. The small package had been delivered that morning but with all that had occurred he had not had the chance to tell her.
“I know you want a child,” he said. “And if we can see our way through this, I will do all in my power to give you the family you long for. But until then—.”
“You’re right. Eldren, you are right. We cannot bring a child into this home until we know it would be safe to do so and until we know to what lengths Frances will go, it’s too much to risk,” she offered in agreement. “Right now, this time is for us. One day, when we have eliminated these threats, then we can revisit the idea of a family.”
Eldren reached for the ties of her dressing gown, watching the heavy velvet part to reveal the simple chemise she wore beneath it. The white lawn was so fine it was all but sheer, revealing the hollows and peaks of her form beneath. His hands slipped inside the parted robe to rest on the flare of her hips as he tugged her closer still. Angling his head slightly, he pressed his mouth to the underside of her breast, savoring the suppleness of her flesh beneath his lips.
It was only moments before gentle seduction gave way to raging need. He lifted her onto the bed, coming down on top of her. Clothing shifted and moved, only to be discarded onto the floor beyond.
In many ways, it was better. She knew what to expect. It was all anticipation and eagerness without the nerves and fear. He knew how and where to touch her to incite her passions, and in turn, she knew precisely where and how to touch him. They drove one another mad with it—until they were gaping and shuddering with desire, until their bodies strained together.
Eldren eased himself from her long enough to retrieve the small tin. Her gaze never left him as he donned the sheath. Under her gaze, his flesh hardened further, his desire increasing as she parted her lips and the tip of her pink tongue touched her lips. She was unconsciously seductive, her reactions open, honest, untutored and captivating. Returning to the bed, Eldren pressed her back against the mattress and parted her thighs.
She arched against him, shifting her knees upward until she could lock her ankles behind his hips. Sinking into the warmth and heat of her, even with the thin barrier that still existed between them, it was the most exquisite sensation of his life. Easing his way slowly, he paused when he felt the small bit of resistance. With more patience than he’d believed possible, he paused there, circling his hips against hers, allowing her to grow accustomed to the sensation.
“More,” she urged. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Unable to resist that sweet plea, he surged forward entering her fully and feeling the hot clutch of her flesh about him. He shuddered and groaned, struggling for control. She clung to him, her nails scoring his back.
“Adelaide,” he whispered, the sound broken and gruff.
She shifted beneath him, her hips moving against his with an eagerness that belied her inexperience. Placing one hand on her hips, he guided her, setting a rhythm that would hopefully make the moment last long enough for them both to find their pleasure.
Every cry, every groan, every shattered moan spurred him on. The sounds of their passion filled the room. Sweat slicked their skin as they strained against one another. When he felt the tell-tale tremors in Adelaide’s thighs, the slight quivering of her belly that signaled her impending release, he began to move faster, pressing deeper and harder until she let out a broken cry. Her body went taut beneath him, hips arched and back bowed as she crested.
It was only seconds later that his own release took him, and he pumped his hips harder against her until his entire body trembled with the power and intensity of it.
When he could move, he withdrew from her long enough to remove the sheath. Immediately he went back to the bed and took her in his arms.
“I had no idea,” she said. “I thought I knew what pleasure was but, Eldren, this was so much more.”
It was. And if he’d had any doubts, that evening had eliminated them. Adelaide was all he wanted. All he’d ever want. “If you give me a moment or two to recover, I’ll show you more.”
“There’s more?”
He smiled. “There is so much more. And I mean to show you all of it that I can.”
7
Warren remained unconscious though he had stirred some that evening and muttered a few words that were indecipherable. Fra
nces fumed and threw tantrums and Eldren had ignored her entirely. Out of self preservation, Adelaide had remained closeted in the morning room with Madame Leola for most of the day. The woman had taught her about meditation, about visualizing white light around her to protect herself. It was all so new to her, so strange. And yet it felt strangely right and offered her some sense of security as they went in to meet Eldren and Lord Mortimer.
They had elected to use the breakfast room for the ritual. Seance. In truth, Adelaide was uncertain what to call it. She’d never engaged in such a thing in her life, but there were many firsts for her since arriving at Cysgod Lys—some significantly more pleasant than others.
Leaves had been removed from the table to make it smaller and more intimate. Only four chairs flanked it. Both Eldren and Madame Leola had been adamant that Frances could not know what they were about. Given their suspicions of Frances and what she may have done to her husband, it was the wisest course of action. To that end, not even the servants had been apprised of what they planned to do. Lord Mortimer had seen to the preparations of the room.
The table had been draped with black velvet, and a single candelabra sat in the center of it, the flames dancing and casting long shadows over the darkly paneled walls. Watching those shapes shimmer and fade, only to reemerge darker and more menacing than before, made her shiver.
“Everyone take your seats,” Lord Mortimer said. “I realize that I may be out of bounds, but I’ve attended these rituals and have watched Madame Leola work many times. I think it best, Montkeith, if I take the lead.”
Eldren shrugged before replying in a tone that clearly demonstrated his disinterest and disdain for their planned event, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here, so please, lead on.”
Lord Mortimer walked around the room, extinguishing all light save for that on the table. When he had completed that task, he opened the small wooden box that he’d carried in with him. It was filled with large salt crystals. Taking them one at a time, he formed a circle on the floor around the table and then poured more salt to connect them in a ring.
At Eldren’s huffed out breath, Madame Leola smiled. “You think it nonsense, Lord Montkeith. But this salt is to protect all of us. It provides a barrier between us and the dark forces at work in this house. Do not mock what you do not understand, if you please.”
“I meant no disrespect, Madame Leola, but you must understand how strange all of this seems to me,” he insisted.
The mystic smiled, her full lips tilting up at the corners in an expression of knowing. “My dear man, it will get much stranger before the night is done.”
Lord Mortimer returned to the table then and seated himself so that he held Madame Leola’s right hand and Adelaide’s left. Eldren was to her right, facing the older gentleman. “We are ready to begin.” The four of them together formed a circle, like points on a compass.
Adelaide was silent, her eyes glued to the mystic as Madame Leola began to hum, a low strange sound. She rolled her neck side to side and back to front. Recalling their conversation from earlier, about what it meant to be a catalyst for all things mystical, Adelaide felt a frisson of fear. What if her presence was too much?
“I call upon the spirit who accompanied me here… I call upon Ulmer,” Madame Leola intoned, her voice rich and theatrical. But there was power in it, power that everyone could feel.
“Ulmer, tell me what inhabits this house,” she demanded in that strange and terrifying manner.
Suddenly and without warning, Madame Leola’s head dropped back and a wail escaped her unlike anything that Adelaide had ever heard. It raised goosebumps all over her. From the corner of her eye, and just beyond the circle of salt, she saw the shadows move. They danced and swayed, shifting in a way that could only be described as unnatural. Or supernatural. Even as the light flared, the flames growing higher, the shadows drew nearer, they became thicker and heavier, falling one atop the other like a writhing mass.
It was only seconds, or perhaps minutes, but suddenly, Madame Leola’s head came up again. Her eyes were wide, but rolled back in her head in such a way that only the white was visible. It was a terrible sight. The hair at the nape of Adelaide’s neck stood on end and a shiver raced through her.
A voice emerged from her, too deep for a woman, too rough to be human. Half growl, half shout, and utterly terrifying, she uttered, “Be gone!”
Adelaide flinched. As the candles’ flames suddenly flared brighter and higher, silhouetted behind Madame Leola was a dark, hulking shape. It was not a shadow. No light penetrated it. Solid, massive, and looming above them, it was the embodiment of darkness, she thought.
“Be gone, I say! You have no power in this circle!” Madame Leola shouted again, in that voice that could not be hers.
The shadows dispersed. The dark shape retreated, but slowly and without any fear. The candle flames stopped their dancing and burned steadily, as they should have all along.
The mystic’s eyes closed once more, and when they opened, they were once more the pretty blue eyes of the woman who had entered their home only the day before. But they were haunted. Their was a heaviness about her that had not been there before. The woman’s shoulders slumped with what could only be exhaustion.
“It worked,” Adelaide said. “Your spirit guide showed you what you needed to know?”
Madame Leola nodded. “I need water… or tea,” she said, and her voice was a broken whisper.
Lord Mortimer rose, hesitated for a moment before stepping past the barrier of salt crystals, and then rushed toward the bell pull in the corner. As he did so, he flicked the small valve and the gas lamps overhead flared to life. It was a welcome reprieve. From the darkness and what might remain hidden inside it.
A maid entered, her eyes wide and her face white with fear. He ordered the tea and then returned to the table. Moments later, the girl returned with a tray bearing a pot of tea and cups for everyone, along with a decanter of brandy. She fled as quickly as she’d come, clearly unnerved by whatever strange things were going on.
When the maid had gone, Lord Mortimer poured the tea. It was an unusual thing for a man to do with women present, but as Madame Leola was trembling and she herself was in much the same condition, Adelaide was grateful for the minor breach of protocol.
With a cup of tea, heavily laced with brandy, placed before each of them, he nodded to Madame Leola. “Go on.”
The mystic drew in her breath and began to speak. “It is worse than I thought. So much worse. And I do not know if it can be defeated.” No one said anything. They simply waited. After a moment, she continued. “Whatever dark thing inhabits this house, it isn’t human. This is not the simple case of a spirit who is unwilling to submit to death, or a being that has unfinished business in this plane.”
“I don’t understand,” Eldren said.
“If it had been a human spirit, it would not have been able to intrude as it did. I felt it trying to invade my body, trying to take me over and—,” she broke off abruptly and covered her face with a trembling hand for a moment.
“If it didn’t begin as a human what did it begin as?” Adelaide asked.
“Evil, Lady Montkeith. If this being ever was human, that was so long ago there is no trace of humanity left in it now… It’s a parasite feeding off both the living and the dead. One it drives mad, and the other—,” Madame Leola broke off abruptly, her eyes widening in horror and her breath rushing out on a silent cry.
“Tell us what you’ve seen,” Lord Mortimer demanded, rising to his feet, the table before them rocking from the upset.
Adelaide couldn’t breathe. She could feel it, the horror and the fear that consumed the mystic. It seeped from the other woman, spilling onto her like liquid from an overturned glass. “She will, John. Give her a moment. She’s touched it, you see. It’s entered her mind, passed through it and left its pollutants behind. It will take her a moment to recover.”
She felt Eldren stiffen at her side, his gaze heavy u
pon her. Uncertain, she glanced over at him.
But it wasn’t fear or revulsion, or even disbelief on his face. It was concern. He wasn’t dismissing or discounting her entirely. Instead, he worried for her, Adelaide realized. Whether it was because he truly believed all that was happening around them in that moment or because he thought the house and its oddities had managed to drive her mad, she did not yet know.
“It uses both as fuel,” Madame Leola finally said, the words escaping her on a shuddered breath. “Fear and uncertainty are like the first course, you see? The agony of madness is the main dish. But it’s what happens after you’ve died here—that is the dessert. This land is cursed and the dead are trapped here, unable to escape this thing. Without the protection of a living body, the soul is laid bare and plucked at incessantly. Consumed by it until only a shadow remains of what they ever once were. They are nothing but inhuman wraiths now… pale, slivers of phantoms that drift through these halls. Just enough left in them to feel anger, resentment, hatred, and perhaps the most vicious emotion of all. Envy. They have enough cognizance left to envy the living and that is where the danger lies.”
The room fell utterly silent. No one dared speak. The horror of what the mystic had revealed was not something any of them could ever have imagined. And yet, as she spoke those words, there was a certainty to them. An epiphany, even if it was a horrific one.
“What does it want?” Eldren asked sharply.
“What every predator wants… to consume. To survive. To flourish. To grow. To spread,” Madame Leola uttered bitterly. “And it will. If we do not stop it, it will succeed. It’s shown you already how far it can reach. You weren’t safe from it in Chester. You, Lord Montkeith, have felt its icy cold touch upon you in London. And I daresay its reach extends even further than we know. But these displays of power are not without cost.”
“How do we defeat it?” Adelaide asked.
“Not we, my dear. You. You are the key to all of it and you always have been,” Madame Leola uttered softly. “May God have mercy on you.”
Veil of Shadows Page 5
