The Rose Master (26 page)

Her words made me smile for an instant, but then my own thoughts twisted that smile into a muffled sob. The ache of missing her mingled with the confusion I felt about everything around me. The manor, the darkness inside it, Lord Grey, the image locked in the armoire . . . nothing was clear or safe. I was lost. Even in my own head. Like my mother, I was paralyzed with fear.

At that moment, what I desired more than anything was to have Elsie next to me, telling me one of her awful jokes.

I folded the letter back up, my hands shaking with silent sobs.

The reality of my situation was a burning pang in my chest.

TWENTY-
three

I was kicking something that slid around me, attempting to brace myself, but finding no foothold. Hands were wrapped tight around my neck; so many hands, pushing their fingers in, digging with their nails. I tried to raise my own to pry them loose, but they wouldn’t respond. They were so heavy.
I
was so heavy, so tired. Water burned my eyes, and I could see my hair waving around me, oblivious to the danger, enjoying the water’s caress. I opened my eyes as the hands, the claws, tore at my throat. In front of me, smiling underwater, was a woman, her shining auburn hair encircling me.

With a yelp, I woke. I sat up, my forehead dripping with sweat, and heard that familiar low, crackling laugh.

A second later, Lord Grey was careening through the doorway, his hair a lovely mess. He glanced around the room and then released the tight coil of tension he’d been holding.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, just a nightmare.”

“Bloody hell, Anne. Do you think you can manage to dream without giving me an apoplexy?”

He shuffled into the room, while I tried to shake the nightmare from my head.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sure you are.” He moved across the room to the only chair, picking up the clothes I’d left there. I almost didn’t catch the care he took in placing them on the desk. As my eyes followed his movements, I saw his hands rest for a second on my gown, one finger tracing the line of black buttons. I frowned.

He pulled the chair forward and sat down, placing his head in his thin hands. I took a moment to check his injury. It looked clean and dry.

“Sir, does it still hurt? Your wrist?”

He looked up. “It’s fine. It has stopped . . .” His eyes trailed over me, taking in the gown I was wearing. I began to feel too warm.

“Sir?”

He met my eyes, his face remaining calm and severe. “The gown suits you, Anne.”

“Thank you, sir. It is a lovely one.”

“I thought so, when I bought it.” A red contraction of pain raced through his features and he looked down to the floor. He was quiet for so long, I thought he would not say another word.

My mouth itched to speak the question, to ask about the woman who had followed me into my dreams, but I didn’t dare.

Lord Grey cleared his throat and looked back up at me. “It’s perfect for you, Anne. Keep it.”

“Sir, I couldn’t.”

“It deserves to be worn, not to hang in a man’s closet picking up lint.”

I felt myself blushing and I dipped my head, allowing my heavy curls to tumble around me. My heart was beating with painful enthusiasm, sending pulsing thuds up to my throat.

A soft brush of warm air touched a lock of my hair, a caress that sent my hands tingling. I moved and the touch disappeared. Raising my head, I saw Lord Grey was still seated on the chair, his eyes dark and focused on me. Immediately, he lowered them and stood.

“Well, I’ll leave you and see if we can both get some more sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “It’s August, Anne.”

He closed the door behind him.

I got no more sleep that night.

“Again, Anne.”

He sent a jolt of searing power toward me with a flick of a long finger.

I was standing before him, already bruised and cut, and it wasn’t yet mid-morning. Raising my hands, I willed them to become shields, if not weapons, and for a few seconds, I felt Lord Grey’s energy pause, held back. I concentrated, but my mind faltered and the anxious wave of power slammed into me, knocking me down.

“Damn it!” I screamed. Rubbing my scraped elbow, I stood.

“That was better, though. It held up a bit longer. I don’t think, however, the creature would give you time to gather yourself off the floor.”

“Maybe not, but if we keep doing this, I might not make it alive to next week.”

Lord Grey’s lips twitched. “You have a knack for exaggeration, Anne. But if you’re tired, we can try something different.”

He walked closer to me and held up his hands. “I will not attack you now. It’s your turn. You will attack, and I’ll attempt to defend myself.” He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “I’m sure this will ease some of your frustration.”

He turned around and began walking back across the room. I smiled at the opportunity.

I began to feel that odd sensation of lightness, as if my body were made out of sea-foam and salt, everything around me taking on a sharper feel. The stones felt colder, more grooved; Lord Grey’s footsteps were more hollow.

With a deep breath, my blood seemed to warm, bubbling as it thumped down my veins in a thick current. When it became too painful to sustain, I released the power with a sigh.

Lord Grey felt the change in the air and snapped around, his mind raising up a defense that I couldn’t see. I felt it deep in my entrails when the energies met, smashing together.

Lord Grey fixed his eyes on mine, and I held the gaze, unblinking, as his reflection wavered like a fish. A flash of pain brushed through his face, and I felt his defenses splinter, then crack. He was thrown backward against the floor, his bones landing with a creaking twist.

The feeling passed in an instant, and I was back in the reality of the main hall, watching as the manor’s master bent his torso to sit up.

“That was certainly better,” he said.

I attempted to help him, but he waved me off with a trembling hand. “You seem to find it easier to strike first, vicious creature that you are. We need to remember that.” He coughed softly and stretched his arm to pick something up off the floor next to him.

“Where did this come from?” He held the object up for me to see.

“Oh, my cross, it must have fallen out of my pocket. Ms. Simple gave it to me.”

He turned it over in his hands, the sunlight shining on it. “It can’t really protect you, Anne. It has no magic.”

I gazed at the small object, then brought my eyes back to him. “Shouldn’t something given in affection carry its own brand of magic?”

He stood, walked over to me and handed me the cross. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

He didn’t back away, but remained close enough for me to feel his warmth playing over my gown. It became harder to breathe.

His cough broke the moment in two.

“I still don’t know what to do if the wraith attacks, sir,” I said, backing away.

His face darkened as if he’d been pulled back into the shadows.

“August,” he murmured.

“Sir, it’s not right. I would feel out of place.”

“You know, Anne, no one’s called me by my given name since my father died. Except for the wraith. I’ve begun to hate the sound of it. It’s one more name I’m trying to recover from the creature’s jaws.”

When he raised his eyes to me, they were a deep blue, the swirling and shifting colors having subsided.

I couldn’t stand that gaze, and I lowered my head. From my throat’s recesses, I pulled out the word he wanted to hear, tugging it up by its silver thread all the way to my lips.

“August.”

I didn’t see his reaction, if there was one. I just kept my eyes on the indifferent stone floors.

“Thank you.”

I could only nod.

TWENTY-four

In the afternoon, after I’d managed to sneak a few cleaning hours to myself, Lord Grey (or August, as I needed to accustom myself to saying) invited me to a walk around the grounds.

“Well, at least as far as we can make it without puncturing every artery on rogue branches, or finding ourselves in an uncomfortable drowning scenario,” he said.

I bundled up, rushing into my now glowering old room, my Bible’s residue still floating in the air, and snatched my cloak along with any other items I might need. I was trying to avoid further trips to that particular section of the house. It now seemed as much as part of the wraith’s domain as the fountain did.

As if to prove my point, all the doors in the servant’s quarter slammed open at the same time. I gave them a quick look with eyes too tired to be quaking in fear, and walked back to the front door.

“What was that noise?” August asked.

“The wraith. Obviously, the rooms needed airing.”

He looked at me. “You’re not afraid, then?”

“I was,” I shrugged. “I’m sure I will be again, but for now, I’m willing to enjoy the day.”

He nodded and held the door open as I stepped out of our frozen cocoon and into a cloudy but warming afternoon.

The roses had returned to their naked splendor, and as we passed by them, I caught a smile on August’s face.

“Will I ever be able to do that?” I found myself asking.

“What? The flowers?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Anne. Your powers are of a different sort than mine, more controlled even in their, as yet, untamed wildness. Not set so much to burst in exuberance as to quiet, to gather together, to calm.”

We continued walking around the corner and down toward the stables.

“Summoning, though, I think I could teach you. It’s not incompatible with your skills. After all, to banish something, you would need to first call it up.”

“I’m not sure that’s something I’m willing to experiment with, August.”

His voice was suddenly harsh. “Not when you have my example glowing before you.”

I stopped. He walked on a few paces, then also stopped. I saw his back, even through his clothing, swaying with the effort it took to avoid one of his coughing spells.

As I looked after him, memorizing every one of his angles, I felt what by then was a familiar dizziness. A stretching root of my thoughts traveled through the snow, over to the dark figure before me. I felt it encircle him, then brush against his skin like soft fur.