Touch of Passion (12 page)

Kian turned his head slightly and looked at her, a thin, mocking smile on his lips. “Do you think, Loris, that the
Dewin Mawr
is unaware of what's been occurring at Tylluan these past months? Of every disaster that's happened since I became baron?”

Surprise rolled over Loris at the words.

“But if Lord Graymar knows,” she said, “why hasn't he come, or even contacted you?”

Kian's expression was troubled. “I believe it's a test of sorts.”

Loris understood that. Considering the idea, it made perfect sense, and she could only wonder that it hadn't occurred to her before. Of course the Earl of Graymar would know what was happening in Tylluan. He was the
Dewin Mawr
, and it would have been nearly impossible for events with such dire consequences to take place without him either knowing or hearing about them. And using the circumstances as an assessment of Kian's nerves and skills made sense, too. Such tests were common among the magical Families, when wizards sometimes had to prove themselves worthy of particular honors. This, then, was Kian's test, and Loris knew that'd he'd not call for help unless there were absolutely no other options left to him.

“But that is only more reason why Dyfed and I should remain,” she argued. “You need to concentrate on solving what's happening here, and you can't do that if you're distracted with having to run the estate and tend to the troubles as well.”

“Loris,” he said wearily, “
you
are my greatest distraction. I know from long experience that you dislike hearing me speak of what is between us, that you don't even believe in our
unoliaeth
, but it is very real to me. It's difficult enough worrying about the safety of my tenants with my thoughts so fixed on you, and if you should become endangered by the evil that's befallen us, I doubt that I would care about anything else.”

He was right: she disliked hearing about the
unoliaeth
and was even more aggravated by the fact that he meant to send her away from Tylluan for such a nonsensical reason.
But what she thought didn't really matter. Kian believed that some mystical relationship existed between them, and it appeared to be impossible for him to think otherwise.

“I'll go to London for a short visit, then,” she said, “but only on the condition that I'll be allowed to return to Tylluan when I wish.”

“You would return even if you did not wish it,” he said. “We cannot be apart from one another for long and know any real happiness. Your heart will bring you back to Tylluan, even if you don't understand why. Always, it will draw you back.”

“I don't want to speak of your
unoliaeth
,” Loris said impatiently. “I want your promise.”

He looked away, out the window again.

“I give you my vow that nothing, and no one, will be able to keep you from returning to Tylluan.”

“Not even Lord Perham, if he should truly be my grandfather?”

“Especially not Lord Perham,” Kian said solemnly. “You alone will decide if you wish to visit his estate in Cumberland in order to establish a relationship, but Tylluan will always be your home, Loris. You do not need the permission of another to enter and remain, because it belongs to you and cannot be taken away. And no one could keep you from returning, because I would come for you and bring you safely back.”

She believed him, but wanted to make certain they understood each other perfectly.

“And what of you, Kian?”

“What of me?”

“Will you stop me from returning to Tylluan?”

He looked at her, his clear blue eyes piercing, and said nothing.

“I must hear you say the words,” she told him. “The Guardians must hear them, else they're not binding.”

He was silent for a long moment, then at last said, “I will never keep you from returning to Tylluan, unless it would be dangerous to you to be here.”

She shook her head and waited.

He made a sound of exasperation. “You're a stubborn female, Loris,” he muttered.

“Say the words aloud,” she said.

“Very well, then.” He set a hand against the wall and leaned closer to her, speaking very deliberately. “I make my vow before the Guardians that I will not keep you from returning to Tylluan. For any cause.”

Loris nodded and stepped back, away from their uncomfortable closeness. “I believe you, then,” she said. “I will go to London to meet my grandfather, if Lord Perham is indeed that man. But I will not stay a moment longer than I must, regardless of whether the troubles at Tylluan have been resolved. Just as soon as I have matters sorted out with Lord Perham,” she vowed, “I'll be coming home.”

“Another beautiful evening.” Morcar Cadmaran lifted his sightless eyes toward the sky and smiled. “I can feel it. The fog grows heavier, does it not, my sweet? A perfect night for the hunt.”

Desdemona Caslin pulled her cloak more tightly about her neck and cast an unpleasant glance at the tall, handsome man beside her. She disliked being called such silly endearments, even by the lord she had been brought here to wed. She was not sweet and never had been, as Morcar Cadmaran knew very well. And that was precisely why he'd paid her father so much for her hand in marriage. Lord Llew wanted a wife as dark in nature as he was, and equal in powers. Desdemona was both of these things, perhaps even more so. And that gave her pause. Lord Llew might believe that she was his ideal mate, but Desdemona wasn't entirely certain that she agreed.

Not that it mattered. Her father had abandoned her here and gone back to the Americas, leaving Desdemona without a way to get home. She knew no other magical beings in this foreign land, apart from Lord Llew, and was completely dependent upon him until she could either discover some way of escape or make contact with another wizard or sorceress who would lend her aid.

But the Earl of Llew was no fool, and his blindness did little to alter his powers. In some ways it made him an even more fearsome wizard, for it gave him the gift of complete concentration. Desdemona would find it a challenge to leave England without his knowledge—she couldn't even depart the castle while he was in it, unless she had his permission, for it was heavily enchanted—and as he'd paid such a large sum of money to get her, it was unlikely he'd let her go without a fight.

But Lord Llew would discover, if he didn't already realize it, that any contest between them would result with her as the winner. Only one wizard existed who knew the secret that could force Desdemona into complete submission, and her father was now too far away to perform the enchantment. When she at last found another haven for those of her kind—and surely there must be one, even in this awful land—she would leave Llew and its blind lord behind forever. And then, she thought with dark anticipation, she would repay her father for the treachery he'd practiced in abandoning her to Morcar Cadmaran's care. It wouldn't be a simple matter to best Draceous Caslin—no one had ever managed to do it before—but Desdemona would find the way, no matter how long it took or the price she had to pay.

“The beast should rest,” she told Lord Llew. “It's hunted for the past six nights. It will have no interest in food for some time.”

“It need not eat,” Lord Llew said. “Simply wandering will be enough. I don't want the Baron of Tylluan sleeping peacefully for another week, at the very least. Desperation will drive him to call the
Dewin Mawr
to his rescue. We need only keep pushing to break his stubborn pride.” Turning to Desdemona, Cadmaran reached out with seeking fingers, touching her arm and then sliding down to clasp her hands in his. “You don't mind terribly, do you, my love?”

“Of course not,” she replied, and meant it. She loved wandering the land at night, free from Cadmaran's—from anyone's—attentions. The few precious hours until daylight
gave her the only peace she'd known since she'd been brought to Wales. “How else will the beast be called to rouse itself? But I warn you, it will do little damage before it returns to its resting place.” Pulling her hands free, she moved a few steps away, gazing out over the terrace wall to the darkened valley beyond. It would soon be shrouded in fog.

“Even an hour will be enough,” Lord Llew told her, his voice slightly cooler. Using the staff that helped him find his way, he moved toward her, tapping the smooth stone beneath his feet with each step he took. Desdemona often thought he did it as a guise; he could sense well enough where she stood.

Reaching her, the Earl of Llew slid a hand about her waist and drew Desdemona near, up against the solid length of his body. His sightless eyes were turned toward her face, as if he could see her, and both his touch and voice were gentle.

“I realize that we have not known each other long, Desdemona,” he said, “and that you have little cause to trust or even like me, but I give you my vow that, when you are my wife, all that you wish, all that you desire, will be yours. No one else will be able to understand you as I shall, my sweet, for we are two of the same kind. We crave power, and are not afraid of that which we already possess. Together we will become the most feared of our kind, and our children will inherit unimaginable gifts. I shall worship you, Desdemona, as you deserve to be worshipped, and you shall be as a queen among our people. No one, and nothing, will dare naysay or deny you. I shall make certain of that.”

He bent from his great height and sought her lips, kissing them with a lover's care. Desdemona stood still beneath the caress, waiting for something to spark within her, but nothing came. Her heart was cold, as it always had been, and despite his pretty words, Lord Llew knew how immovable she was. But when he lifted his head he smiled, not in the least displeased.

“You are my perfect mate,” he murmured, and caressed her cheek with his fingers. “A hundred mortals might the beneath your hand and you'd shed nary a tear. I vow I have
never loved another woman as I shall love you. Go, then, my darling, and rouse your slumbering beast. Enjoy your wandering through the night and return to Llew come dawn. Your chamber will be ready to receive you.”

Why hadn't he come?

Loris opened her balcony doors and stepped into the cold, foggy night, straining to hear whether there was any sound of Liw's approach. She had never been quite certain about how it was that he came to her, except that it was always by way of the balcony. Whether he was able to fly or simply scaled the castle walls she neither knew nor cared, so long as he arrived safely.

But when would he come? And what had been keeping him away so many days? She needed him desperately, especially tonight. There were so many things to tell him—about Lord Perham and London. And there were questions she wanted to ask, as well, about what was happening at Tylluan. She'd never thought to ask him before, but surely Liw knew something that might help Kian put an end to the troubles. The faeries were powerful beings, and if they could but lend Kian their aid, matters might be made right far more quickly.

But more than any of that, she wanted to be in Liw's arms, to hold him and be held by him, to touch and kiss for perhaps the last time in many months. She wanted memories to take away with her, and to tell him that she was going so that he'd not worry and wonder if he should come one night and not find her there.

“Please come,” she whispered aloud. “You must come, Liw. I need you.”

Kian brought his mount, Seren, to a halt and cursed aloud, long and fulsomely. Horas reined in beside his master, waiting until he finished before saying, simply, “Aye.”

“Damn this night!” Kian said fiercely. “And damn this fog! We can scarce see our hands before our faces, let alone anyone bent on destruction.”

“Or thing, m'lord,” Horas added calmly.

“Aye, thing,” Kian agreed hotly. “
Damn!
”

Frustrated, he tossed a leg over the saddle and slid to the damp earth. Kneeling, he placed one hand upon the ground and closed his eyes in concentration.

“The faeries have gone deep into the trees and streams,” he muttered irately. “They'll be of no help to us until the trouble has gone.” A long, silent minute passed, and then he said, more softly, “Something moves a few miles from here. I can't tell where. It's distant. Faint. But it shakes the ground with each step, and disturbs the water.”

“The same as the other nights,” Horas said. “Is it a giant, do you think?”

“Perhaps,” Kian murmured, his eyes still closed. “It's slower tonight, expending far less energy. Its powers are dimmed.”

“Is the other still with it? The darker power?”

“Aye,” Kian said, frowning as he felt that power moving so close to his lands. It had to be Morcar Cadmaran; Kian could think of no other wizard who emanated a darkness so intense that it could be readily divined, even from a distance. “But where are they?
Where?
”

Why hadn't the Guardians gifted him with the ability to sense strangers on his lands with greater accuracy? It would have been a tremendously wise thing to do upon the occasion of his becoming Baron Tylluan. Instead, they'd given Kian the power to revive dying plants and increase the mating abilities of various livestock. They were both wonderfully valuable and useful gifts, of course, and would be extremely helpful once the troubles had gone and the herds and land needed replenishing, but at the moment they weren't any help at all.

“The others may find them, m'lord,” Horas said. “They're keeping watch on all Tylluan's borders. Tonight may be the last of it.”

“I pray God it is,” Kian said, rising full height. “I fear it's only the beginning.” With fluid ease he remounted his patient horse. “We'll go to each lookout, starting at the lake.
Dyfed and his men are there, and—” He fell silent and turned in the saddle, listening.

“Did you hear something, m'lord?” Horas asked, turning to look toward where Kian was gazing into the thick fog.