Sevin: Lords of Satyr (14 page)

As he tied off the end of one of the ropes they’d brought to the leg of a couch, his brothers continued shouting for her. When he was done and they’d heard no reply, he handed the rest of the rope coil to Bastian, and spoke to Luc. “Do you think you can lead Bastian to the chamber we were in last night?”

“I think so. Last night she said she’d been in the tunnel less than ten minutes. I should be able to find my way from here,” Luc began. “But—”

Sevin cut him off, explaining, “Let’s try two different directions to cover more ground, just in case she has wandered off. And since we want Bastian to have a look at the artifacts, you should accompany him there, while I try a different path.”

Luc nodded. Although his face was stoic, Sevin sensed the tension in him, and he took his arm, staying him. “Wait. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Stop worrying. I’m fine.” Shrugging him off, Luc took a lamp and lead Bastian inside. As the brothers’ bobbing lantern swiftly disappeared into serpentine darkness, they let the coil unwind, so they’d be able to find their way back with no trouble.

Meanwhile, Sevin tied off the end of the other coil of rope. He had already gone a dozen steps into the tunnel and was about to veer off in a different direction from that his brothers had taken, when he heard voices behind him and the slam of the front door.

“No! I want you out!”

Recognizing that the shout had come from Alexa, Sevin retraced his steps. In a flash, he bolted toward the sound of her voice, following it to another sitting room at the front of the house. He stalked into the room, his eyes immediately finding and flicking over her.

Alexa. She’d found her way out of the tunnel on her own. She stood by the mantel now, removing her gloves. She looked beautiful. And exhausted.

He turned to the two well-dressed men in the room—a slender young one, and an older, swarthy, muscular one with a cigar in his mouth. He recognized neither. “You heard the lady. She doesn’t want you here.”

“Sevin?” Alexa gasped in surprise. When her wide gray eyes met his, an awareness of everything that had taken place the previous night flashed between them. Her face went pink.

“It’s not
her
house, as it happens,” the elder of the two men told him. “She has no right to order us out. And who are you to trespass anyway?”

Ignoring them for the moment, Sevin went to her. He needed to hold her, to reassure himself she was safe. With an arm about her shoulders, he tugged her toward the sofa, his head bent to hers. “Sit, before you fall down. Why aren’t you in bed?”

Alexa gestured toward the two men. “I have unwelcome visitors, as you see. They escorted me to the telegraph office, where I sent a message to my attorney in hopes of seeing them and their claim removed from my property.”

“Signor! I ask you again. Who are you to trespass?” the elder man demanded.

Sevin stood to face them, his expression menacing. He’d planned to broach the subject of marriage when he found Alexa. He’d worked out all the details in his mind, closed all the loopholes, prepared answers for all the questions and roadblocks she might raise. But there were two unexpected roadblocks in the room, and they greatly annoyed him. He wanted privacy.

“I’m Lord Sevin Satyr. Now get the hells out.” He saw the fleeting distaste in the elder man’s face when he realized Sevin was a creature of ElseWorld blood. Another damn ethnic purist, or a segregationist at the very least. Thoroughly irritated now, Sevin stalked toward the men, taking the younger one’s arm and preparing to bodily toss them both out on the street.

“Wait! I have a right to be here!” the younger one protested, struggling. “I’m her husband! We married in Venice only two months ago.”

Sevin’s heart faltered as he read the truth of this statement in the man’s face.
No!
He and Alexa were bound to one another. After last night, she was his. He’d have sensed if her heart was already bound to another man when he mated her.

“Ex-husband,” Alexa corrected testily, and his heart picked up speed again. “We are divorced, as you and your father well know, Laslo. I have my copies of the official papers upstairs. Signed only last week.”

Sevin’s brows raised at this, and no wonder. Few women in all of Europe could claim such a status. And probably none as young as twenty-two years of age.

The elder man snorted. “You are Italian, signora,” he scoffed. “There is no divorce here.”

“It so happens that I was born in England twenty-two years ago, while my mother was traveling there,” Alexa told him levelly. “Though I was there as a babe for no more than a few months, I remain an English citizen. Their Matrimonial Causes Act allows women to apply for divorce. We are no longer second-class citizens there, as we remain here in Italy.”

Though she presented an unflappable front, Alexa was far from calm. Her attorney had told her there was a very real possibility that her claim could be revoked if contested. Divorce was frowned upon, even in England where it had been legitimized. She’d counted on Laslo putting up less of a fight about it.

“Nevertheless, you and my son were wed in Venice and you are both Italian residents,” Laslo’s father contended. “And in this country, the laws say that my son now owns you, your home, and its contents. Though from the looks of things, you’ve been selling off some of what’s his.” He gestured around the room, which was partially empty of furnishings as was the rest of the house.

Alexa’s hands fisted on her lap. She’d found time to bathe, but she still hadn’t slept and was far too tired to deal with this. “We’re divorced. Married only briefly. Your family has no moral or legal right to my property.”

Laslo’s father folded his arms. “Yes, yes, so you claim. But I’ve yet to hear on what grounds you acquired this supposed divorce?”

Alexa glanced at all the men in turn, then her gaze focused on the senior Tivoli. “Concupiscent incompatibility with your son.”

All eyes went to her ex-husband.

“Laslo? I understood all went as it should in your marriage bed,” said Signor Tivoli. Then, not giving his son a chance to respond, he looked at Alexa. “Are you implying that my son was incapable of performing his husbandly duty?”

Alexa sent Sevin a mortified look. Then she shied away from looking his way again, unwilling to be reminded of what had passed between them only hours earlier. It was likely nothing to him. With those handsome features and muscles ... and that appendage of his ... he had likely pleased legions of adoring females.

She rubbed her throbbing temples with the tips of her fingers. “Surely this is a private matter for discussion only between my ex-husband and me.”

“Damnation! Laslo! Did it go well or not?” his father demanded.

Laslo shrugged, his eyes studying the pattern of the carpet under his boots. “Of course.”

“And have you bedded any other women since your marriage?” his father inquired.

Laslo looked pained. “No.”

The elder Tivoli turned toward Alexa and Sevin and spread his arms wide. “There you have it then! Even in England, only non-consummation or adultery is recognized as cause for divorce.”

“Laslo,” Alexa chided softly. “You know all did not go well between us. It was a mistake best undone.”

Her former husband looked her way, suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry, Alexa. I—”

“Shut up, son,” growled Signor Tivoli.

With a frustrated glance at his father and an apologetic one at her, Laslo Tivoli wordlessly turned on his heel and left the house.

“I suggest you follow your son’s example,” Sevin told the elder man. “And if you return again, you’ll find your way blocked.”

“By magic?”

Sevin folded his arms, his silence a confirmation in itself.

“One day soon—very soon, I hope—its use will be outlawed and your ability to access it cut off,” Tivoli vowed. “I look forward to that day.”

“You’ll have a long wait,” said Sevin, unfazed. If all went as he planned, Roman lawmakers would soon begin to side with his family.

Signor Tivoli chomped on his cigar for a few seconds, observing Sevin with narrowed eyes. Then, with a scathing glance, he departed after his son.

After he’d gone, Sevin locked the front door behind him, secured other exits, and cast out a protective bespelling around the perimeter that would repel any non-ElseWorld intruders for the next day or so. Returning to the sitting room, he found Alexa exactly as he’d left her, looking pensive and distraught.

Going to her, he sank onto the couch beside her. When he took her hand in his, she looked up at him in dull surprise. “Oh. I thought you’d gone as well.” She yawned delicately behind one hand.

“Where are your servants?” he demanded, irritated at her impersonal tone and her casual assumption that he would desert her.

“Dismissed,” she replied, yawning again.

His brows slammed together. “So if I hadn’t come, you would have found yourself here alone with those two?”

She only shrugged. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to protect me.”

At that, he grunted, a masculine sound of complete disagreement. “Why are your furnishings dwindling?”

“Your family ruined mine, have you forgotten? Our cosmetics business no longer thrives, and therefore my income is nonexistent. I’m not complaining. We deserved it. Just stating a fact.”

“Are you planning to sell the house?” he asked.

She sighed, looking around. “I hadn’t really gotten that far, but if there are to be more attorney fees, I suppose I will have to, won’t I?” She gave a sad little laugh. “So I imagine you’ll get your way in the end after all. I’ll be forced out of Rome.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re marrying me.”

A
lexa straightened, blinking at him in astonishment. “What? No!”

Sevin considered her, trying to determine the best way to get what he wanted. She looked like a beautiful, wilted flower this morning, one that required nurturing, not a tongue-lashing.

He sat and lifted her, unresisting, on to his lap. Leaning comfortably back against the cushions with her in his arms, he inquired mildly, “Why the devil not? They’ll be back, you know. And you can’t fend them off here alone.”

She relaxed into him, laying her head on his shoulder. “You know that’s not reason enough to wed. Besides, my attorney in the divorce advised me to live a respectable life from here on out so as not to draw any suspicion to the matter of my divorce. And I hardly think that a marriage to you will win me any friends
or
respectability here in Rome. Rather, I’d be made notorious.”

Her fingers plucked idly at a button on his tailored shirt. “I’m not sure a marriage between us would even be legal in view of my former ties with Laslo. They will fight me on the divorce.” She sighed again. “I’m afraid the Tivoli family is powerful and well established throughout Italy and has great wealth to draw on.”

“So do I,” Sevin countered, running a comforting hand along her arm.

Under her, his body was a strong, vibrant, masculine support. One she could not afford to lean on indefinitely. “I don’t want to cling to you,” she informed him. “I want to stand on my own for once.”

“Then stand on your own. But let me stand behind you, a bulwark in this storm.”

She looked up at him then, perplexed. After a moment, she put a hand to his cheek, caressing it lightly. “You haven’t shaved.”

His dimples made a brief appearance. “I was in a hurry to get back to you.”

Seeing his smile, Alexa had to fight the instant dart of attraction that burst through her. Then he tilted her face higher, kissing her gently, and she was lost.

As her lips parted for him, a flood of memories from last night washed over her. Her wedding night with Laslo had been about brutality, not passion. And though she’d been bruised by the former, her lonely heart still yearned for the latter. Sevin had been forceful with her last night, true, but it had been a thrilling sort of handling rather than a cruel one. And all the while, she’d sensed an underlying restraint, and had somehow known that he would not hurt her. Not physically. But he could wound her heart, this man.

“You’re a good man,” she murmured. “A strong one.”

He smiled in a self-effacing way, appearing bemused by the turn in the conversation. “Why, thank you.”

She traced the crease of one of his dimples with the tip of her finger. “And admirable in your loyalty to your family.”

“I begin to sound like a basset hound in your description. Cease, please, before I am further reduced.”

“I miss that sort of familial connection.”

“Then wed me, and join my family,” he urged.

“This from the man who considered me the worst sort of anathema only yesterday? One who was set to banish me?”

“Things changed between us last night.”

“Last night was last night,” she said, shrugging slightly. “A fantasy, not real life.”

His broad hand stroked her hair. “Marry me and your life could be full of such nights. We are bound to one another now.” He twisted a pale lock of her hair around one finger as if to tether her to him. “If you leave me, you will suffer a withdrawal.”

She laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Someone is rather full of himself this morning.”

“It’s no idle boast. You’re human. I have mated you during my Calling, given you my seed. Next Moonful, a month from now, you will pine and sicken for want of me, and I for want of you. So, you see, we’ll ultimately be drawn together. You’ll either become my mistress, or you’ll wed me. I’d prefer the latter, but I’m adaptable.”

Alexa tried to focus well enough to think things through. Though his proposal was certainly unconventional, it was appealing in its honesty. And he was appealing in every way to her. He was offering her admission into his inner circle. A place in his family. In his arms, in his life. Protection. Did she dare trust this turn in her fortunes?

She shook her head, mussing her hair against his chest. “I’ve been too impulsive of late and have learned to think before I act. And right now I’m too tired to think straight.”

She felt his kiss brush the crown of her head. “Then sleep.”